Beth’s heart leaped. In the two days since her abduction, she’d tried desperately to contact Val’s mind, praying she really did have the psychic abilities Kith were supposed to possess. There’d been no response, so she’d assumed she’d failed. But maybe… “Cade and Val are on the way, aren’t they?” Beth bared her teeth. “He’s going to rip your head off your shoulders with his bare hands.”
“Your brother-in-law? I think not.” Reading her expression, Ramirez laughed and jerked her off the cot so hard her dark hair flew. “Yes, I know all about your family. I checked you out thoroughly before I decided to take you. So don’t get your hopes up.”
Icy fear clamped in her gut. “What did you do to them?”
He smirked. “Sent them to South Africa on a wild goose chase. They’re busy fending off assassins in Johannesburg by now.”
“Assassins?” Beth’s knees went weak. “What assassins? How the hell did you send them to South Africa?”
He smiled, obviously enjoying her fear. “I laid a false trail indicating I’d taken you out of the country. Then I sent a few of my Swedes after them. Assuming they make it back alive, they’ll be too late to do you any good.”
The thought of her sister in danger made Beth feel sick, but she hid it behind a sneer. “So who are you expecting? A mortal enemy, I hope, preferably one who’s going to rip out your heart and eat it. I want to watch and pass the salt.”
Rage flashed through his eyes, and he lifted a hand. She flinched, expecting another of those brutal slaps. Instead, he stopped and smiled in a chilling stretch of the lips. “Oh, they’re going to love you.”
“Who?”
“The guests I went to so much effort to attract.” He brushed a knuckle down her cheekbone, chuckling when she recoiled. “I’m sure they’ll enjoy taking the… bait.”
Still smirking, he scanned the length of her body, his gaze lingering on the paint- splattered shirt and jeans she’d been wearing when he’d snatched her. Dried blood had joined the smears of crimson, ocher, and cerulean blue. Some of it was his. The resulting bruises had been a small price to pay. After all, he’d bitten her first.
“This isn’t quite the look we want, I think.” Before she could shrink away, Ramirez wrapped a fist in the front of her T-shirt and ripped upward, tearing both it and her bra off in one effortless swipe. With a satisfied smile, he dropped the scraps.
Beth stared at him as cool air touched her bare breasts. “You bastard!” Too pissed to consider the risk she was taking, she slammed a sneakered foot into his shin.
She didn’t even see the return slap.
Stars exploded behind her eyes as she hit the wall with stunning force, then tumbled to the floor. Gasping, Beth lay still, aching cheekbone pressed to the cold cement as tears of pain stung her eyes.
The vampire approached. Blinking at the engraved silver toe tips on his cowboy boots, she licked at the blood oozing from her cut lip. Something cool and soft landed across her back. “Put it on,” he ordered.
Beth lifted her spinning head to look up at him. Her heart was pounding in pain and fear, but she was damned if she’d give in. “Fuck off.”
When he grabbed for her, she fought like a cornered cat attacking a mastiff. Escape was worth any risk at all.
Including death.
When her foot came too close to his balls, Ramirez hit her so hard, blackness crashed down for the second time in three days.
* * *
“He’s in there,” Morgan Axton said in the mental link he shared with his cousin. He stared at the enemy’s safe house in the moonlit Georgia woods, its white wooden siding gleaming, golden light spilling from its lower windows. “I can smell the bastard.” Ramirez’s psychic reek put a match to the fuse of his rage, sending it sizzling along paths already well-seared by guilt and pain.
Crouching next to him in the darkness at the edge of the clearing, Garret shook his head. “You know he’s probably riding another of his thralls. He never fights us in person if he can help it.”
Morgan shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. If we kill enough of them, he’ll eventually run out of fledglings. Then we’ll have him.”
“Assuming he doesn’t get us first.”
“We’re not that easy to get.” Drawing the great sword sheathed across his back, Morgan rose and ghosted toward the house. He could feel his cousin following through their mental link, rapier and dagger in either hand.
Dracula notwithstanding, it took a lot more than a wooden stake to kill a vampire. You had to either decapitate him or destroy his heart. A shotgun would do the job, but Morgan wasn’t in the mood to kill Ramirez that quickly.
It had taken Elena a very long time to die. He intended to make sure her killer suffered just as much.
Cautiously, he studied Ramirez’s latest lair as they approached. It was nothing more than a two-story farmhouse -- white and nondescript, with a wrap-around porch and steeply pitched roof. Quite a comedown from the mansions they’d reduced to rubble over the past sixteen months.
“I don’t sense any boobytraps,” Garret began. “We should be --”
Morgan cleared the six steps to the porch in one long bound. Ignoring his cousin’s curse, he rammed his booted foot into the door. The jam exploded into splinters with the force of his kick, and the door crashed in so hard it banged against the wall. He leaped through the doorway and landed in a crouch, sword held in a steady two-handed grip.
Somewhere in the house, he sensed Ramirez come to attention. He could almost feel the bastard’s anticipation.
“Dammit, Morgan, it’s a wonder you don’t get your fuckin’ head blown off!” Garret snarled, charging in behind him, blades ready in both fists.
“Ramirez won’t use a gun on me. He wants to kill me with his bare hands.” Sword ready, his cousin at his heels, Morgan strode down the foyer toward the room beyond it. Every sense he had was on quivering alert.
He could sense their enemy waiting. The bastard’s psychic power field felt like the taste of rot on his tongue.
A searing memory flashed through his consciousness -- Elena’s mind calling to his that last time, reaching out to him across the miles, begging him to save her. He’d tried -- God, how he’d tried.
He’d failed.
Now all he could do was avenge her.
Yet when they stepped into the farmhouse’s shabby living room, the man who stood waiting wasn’t Ramirez. Not physically, anyway.
“Ahhh -- the Axton cousins come to call.” The big blond Swede raised his broadsword with a practiced skill that shouted of their enemy. One look in his eyes told Morgan Ramirez had possessed him. “Welcome, mis mamobichos.”
“The only cocksucker I see is you,” Morgan growled.
In contrast to Ramirez’s habitual dark elegance, the thrall was broad-faced and beefy, with close-spaced blue eyes and greasy, shoulder-length hair. He was obviously one of the brothers Ramirez had turned a few decades back. There’d been fifteen of them when this private little war started. Now, thanks to Morgan and Garret, less than half were left.
Two more Swedes guarded a dark-haired woman who stood in the corner. In contrast to the white lace nightgown she wore, a dog’s choke chain bit into her throat, its short leash clipped to a hook in the ceiling. A half-healed vampire bite marred her neck, while bruises shadowed her pretty face and narrow arms. Her wrists were bound; if she lost her balance, she’d hang herself.
Morgan glared at the thrall. “Did you ever meet a woman you didn’t abuse, you bastard?”
Ramirez pretended to consider the question. “No, I don’t believe I have.”
Morgan lifted his great sword and started toward him. “Free the girl, Garret. I’ll take Ramirez’s thrall.”
“It’ll be my pleasure.” Garret headed for the woman’s two vampire guards. “Wonder where he’s got his own body stashed this time?”
“It can’t be far. We need to finish this fast and find him.” Morgan began to circle the big blond, who watched him with catlike in
terest. “So, Ramirez,” he said aloud. “Tortured anyone lately?”
“I have not had that opportunity.” He smirked at the bound girl. “Perhaps later.”
“I don’t think so.” Morgan bared his teeth. “You’ll be dead in ten minutes.” He leaped, swinging his sword in a hard slice at the Swede’s neck.
The thrall parried, broadsword hitting Morgan’s blade hard enough to rock him on his heels.
Six hundred years of vampirism had given Ramirez a great deal of power.
Regaining his balance with a wrench, Morgan lunged at the Spaniard. Steel clashed on steel as the two vampires slammed chest-to-chest, muscles straining as each tried to break through the other’s guard.
“You grow reckless, amigo,” Ramirez told him in that infuriating Castilian purr. “It will be the death of you, I fear.”
“Or you.” Morgan shoved his opponent back a pace, getting room to circle for another opening. He was dimly aware of swords ringing as his cousin engaged the two Swedes. He wasn’t worried; without their master lending them strength, Garret was more than a match for them.
At least, as long as the Swedes didn’t get lucky.
Chapter Two
This situation just screams “trap,” Garret thought, his blade keeping his opponents at a respectful distance. If Morgan had been thinking clearly, he’d have seen it too.
Unfortunately, his cousin’s capacity for logic had gone out the window when Elena was murdered. All he cared about now was killing Ramirez -- or dying himself. Garret wasn’t really sure which Morgan would rather do.
Flourishing his sword, Garret lunged, sending the two thralls scrambling backward. They looked as nervous as a pair of foxes attacking a wolf. He could tell by the way they held their weapons that neither had more than a passing idea of how to fence.
Which was a damn good thing, since he needed to take care of them quickly. He had to find Ramirez’s body. The Spaniard couldn’t be far, not and maintain a mind link with the big blond thrall fighting Morgan.
Unfortunately, killing the thrall wouldn’t do a damn thing to Ramirez. Which was why the Spaniard preferred to work through his puppets rather than chance Morgan’s vicious rage personally.
If Garret could find and kill Ramirez’s body, it would take Morgan about ten seconds to finish off the thrall. Nobody was better with a blade.
One of the Swedes suddenly lunged, hacking at Garret’s head. He blocked with his rapier and spun, flicking his dagger out to deflect the second vamp’s thrust at his back. Whirling again, he charged the first and drove his blade into the thug’s left shoulder. The vampire yelled and reeled away as Garret parried the second Swede’s clumsy attack.
His blade circled the vamp’s desperate attempts to block. Before he could shove the rapier into his opponent’s heart, the first thrall charged in again, forcing him to spin and parry.
This was becoming a pain in the ass. He didn’t have time for this, not with Morgan fighting Ramirez. His cousin was far too capable of some act of suicidal heroism.
Garret had already lost Elena. He was damned if he’d lose Morgan too.
* * *
Standing very straight in an effort to relieve the pressure of the chain around her neck, Beth watched the two newcomers go after Joaquin’s thralls. She’d seen Val and Cade practice often enough to know this pair was really good.
The one fighting Ramirez was just as tall and muscular as the Swede, with effortless grace and strength in every swing of his broadsword. Like his partner, he was dressed in black -- a long-sleeved knit shirt and loose pants tucked into heavy combat boots. His soldierly appearance was enhanced by the sleek, short cut of his hair.
The cropped style emphasized the aristocratic angles of his handsome face, with its long nose and wide, sensual mouth. Striking as he was, though, there was feral rage in his black eyes, and his snarl bared fangs.
Ramirez is good-looking too, she reminded herself. He’s still a son of a bitch.
The vampire’s partner was shorter, leaner, built like a marathon runner rather than a heavyweight boxer. He wore his hair a little longer, in a curling, collar-length cut. A neat Van Dyke beard framed his mouth, its curving mustache giving him the look of a perpetual smile even as he fought for his life. Like his hair, the beard was a deep, rich brunet that made his green eyes look even more striking in his narrow, foxy face.
He fought his two opponents with a sword and dagger in either hand, both blades lighter and narrower than the clumsier weapons his foes used. He made the most of that advantage in lightning attacks that kept the Swedes scrambling.
The end came so fast, she almost missed it. The taller of the two thralls bellowed and lunged, trying to decapitate his foe with a wild swing. The bearded vamp deflected it neatly with his rapier and plunged the dagger into the man’s chest.
The second thrall leaped for his unprotected back. Beth screamed a warning, but the brunet was already whirling, slamming his elbow into the Swede’s face. As the thrall staggered, the bearded vampire drove his rapier into the Swede’s belly, then ripped it free. The second thrall hit the ground beside his groaning brother.
For a moment, the bearded vamp looked down at his foes, breathing hard. Then he reached behind his back and pulled something from a sheath at the small of his back.
It was a hand axe.
One of the fallen vampires cursed and struggled to rise.
The brunet glanced up at Beth. “This might be a good time to close your eyes.”
Hastily, she obeyed, wincing as the first thrall screamed. The sound was cut off by a meaty thunk.
“No, please…” the second began.
“Sorry,” the bearded vamp said. “We can’t afford to take prisoners Ramirez can possess.” Another choked, too-short scream. Beth swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes tighter.
Both those bastards asked Ramirez to let them rape me, she reminded herself. They don’t deserve pity.
“Hello, poppet.”
Startled, she opened her eyes, then jerked back as she realized the brunet vampire now loomed over her. She hadn’t even heard him approach.
“I need to find Ramirez,” he told her. He wore an expression of concern she didn’t trust at all. “We’ll free you when he’s taken care of.”
“Wait --” Beth began, but he was already striding from the room, throwing a worried look at his big, black-haired partner as he went.
The vamp and Ramirez’s thrall were still fighting, circling like starving wolves as they tested one another with skillful feints and lunges.
Beth kept her attention to them, trying to ignore the headless vampires in their puddle of blood. She just hoped the black-haired vamp was as good as his bearded partner.
No matter what they did to her afterwards, if they managed to kill Ramirez, they’d be doing her a favor.
* * *
“How long has it been since I cut out Elena’s traitorous heart?” Ramirez sneered. “A year? Or has it been two?”
“She owed you nothing, fucker,” Morgan growled. “And it’s been sixteen months. I’d think you’d remember, since we’ve been wrecking your little empire ever since.” He rammed his sword toward the thrall’s chest.
Ramirez parried and retaliated with a whistling slash of his own, forcing Morgan to leap back. He pressed the attack, and Morgan retreated, beating aside each blow. “I remember she died begging for mercy, squealing like the puta she was.”
“The only whore was your mother.” Furious, he swung at Ramirez’s head with such force, he felt the jolt of the thrall’s block all the way to his shoulder. “And Elena died with her fangs in your throat, trying to rip out your jugular. You’re the one who was squealing.”
Ramirez’s borrowed eyes widened as he retreated. “Now, how would you know that, amigo? Ay! You were in her, weren’t you? I thought she seemed stronger at the end. She’d managed to reach you, even across so many miles. You gave her your strength!”
“Yes, you bastard, I was there.” He bared f
angs aching with the need to tear out his tormentor’s throat. “I only wish she’d reached me sooner.”
“How soon did you two link, maricón? Were you with her when I fucked her?” His fangs glinted as he sneered. “Did you feel my dick?”
Morgan lunged with a bellow of rage, driving his blade at his enemy’s heart. Ramirez tried to parry, but Morgan’s fury gave him strength, and the broadsword smashed through his guard. Its lethal point drove into his chest with a wet crunch, and Ramirez choked in agony.
“I was there, cabrón,” Morgan gritted, bearing down hard as he twisted his weapon to destroy the vampire’s heart. “I was there when you sodomized her, and I was there when you took her head.”
“And soon I’ll… take yours… too, hijo de la puta!” Ramirez spat in Morgan’s face and fled the thrall’s dying body. The Swede stared at Morgan in horror for a split second before his destroyed heart stopped and his knees gave way.
“We’ll see, won’t we?” Morgan wiped the spittle from his face and stepped back, jerking his sword free.
* * *
Eyes almost painfully wide, Beth stared at the black-haired vampire. She could almost see the fury boiling off him.
Despite her instinctive fear, she also felt a twinge of pity. It was obvious he’d loved this Elena, whoever she’d been. It must have been excruciating being a psychic witness to her murder.
“Ramirez!” He whirled and stalked past Beth toward the nearest window, sheathing his sword as he went. She flinched as he jerked up the sash, the glass protesting the rough treatment with a rolling metallic boom. “Bloody hell!” he growled, staring out across the moonlit woods. “The fucking coward is driving off!” He lifted his voice in a shout. “Garret, dammit, he’s gone!”
“What?” Beth dared, licking her dry lips. “Who?”
The vampire shot her a glittering look. “Ramirez. Must have had his body stashed in a car parked in the woods the whole time we were fighting. Now he’s running.”
She strained to listen. “I don’t hear anything.”
Forever Kisses Volume 1 Page 31
