Dark Secrets (16 page)

I clenched my jaw. “I don’t want this life.”

“The choice has already been made.”

Julian tried to stroke my cheek, but I pulled away before he
could touch me.

Don’t make a scene, Ella, it only makes you look pathetic
,
Julian snarled at me through the bond. The bastard had managed to evade my
shields.

He plastered a haughty grin on his face and hooked his arm
through mine, pulling me through the crowd. Eiven was a steady presence at my
back, the two other wolves flanking him. Vampires stared openly at me—each set
of eyes I met held a challenge. The hushed whispers circulating the room hit my
ears, each one a slap to my pride.

“She’s pitiable.”

“Weak.”

“She isn’t fit to rule, not fit to live.”

“She sides with the demons, she will betray us all.”

With each passing second, my anger took hold, coaxing my
predator out to play. When we reached a raised platform at the far side of the
oblong room where side-by-side thrones sat, Julian transferred his grip and
turned me to face the crowd.

His voice rang out, some subliminal rhythm garnering the
rapt attention of the masses around us. “The world changes around us.” He
paused to scan the horde. “Because of that change we must evolve, we must rise
above those beneath us.”

Several vampires nodded, willing to buy whatever crap Julian
slung without a second thought. A few, though—the shifty-eyed ones lingering in
the back—weren’t swayed so easily. I ran my gaze over them, one at a time,
tasting their power, feeding from their strength.

Unlike the minds I’d touched earlier, these vampires had a
strong fortress around them, making it impossible for me to penetrate. While
they weren’t dressed any differently from the rest of the crowd, I knew these
men were part of the queen’s former inner circle. What I guessed was resentment
flared within their gazes.

My instincts rose in warning, a fight-or-flight response
filling me with the need to defend myself with the pointy end of a weapon.

“I present to you Ella Grey, Vampire Queen—your mistress.
Bow now and pledge your allegiance.”

Julian’s voice snapped me back to the present and I realized
I’d tuned out part of his speech while locked in silent battle with my
opposition. I looked around at the vampires who dropped to their knees, willing
to follow me. The six at the back of the room, however, didn’t move a goddamn
muscle.

A surge of savage pride filled me and a smirk lifted a
corner of my mouth. Julian wasn’t as impressed.

He curled his upper lip. “I told you to bow to your queen.”

One of the vampires, the largest of the lot with a riot of
black curls and midnight skin, stepped forward. He didn’t bother to maneuver
through the crowd. No, he plowed a direct path, knocking over those in his way.

Tendrils of energy preceded him, telling me my first guess
was correct. He wasn’t your run-of-the-mill vampire. “She isn’t a queen, and
you, Julian, aren’t a king,” he declared.

A collective gasp rang out. Julian phazed forward, a
seamless exit and entry he made look so effortless. He stood toe to toe with
the master vampire who opposed him. Two dozen badass men dressed head to toe in
black combat gear materialized into the room, guns aimed at the interloper, as
if Julian had planned this.

His voice was a feral growl of immense displeasure. “Are you
challenging me?”

The vampire shook his head, a slow sure move. A smile curved
his full mouth in a way that showed exactly how unperturbed he was by the
situation. Nothing about this intimidated him. Not Julian. Not the guns. Not
me.

I didn’t know who this guy was, but he had balls, I’d give
him that. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked between him and my sire.
The testosterone and tension mounted, making my skin prickle with anticipation.

“I challenge her, not you.” The vampire turned his hot gaze
on me, sweeping me from head to toe. He curled his lip as if he wasn’t
impressed by what he saw. “She is nothing more than a demon’s whore. I refuse
to bow down to some schoolgirl who caught your fancy and ruined everything.”

Rage was a swift manifestation that had me moving before I
could think. I phazed forward and shoved Julian out of the way, taking his
place in front of the hostile vampire. Eiven was there seconds later, grabbing
my arm and trying to pull me to safety.

“Back off,” I growled, yanking my arm free.

I stared up at the vampire whose name I didn’t know and
mentally pushed everyone else from the room until he was the only thing I
focused on. The bindings around my soul pulsed, restricting the onslaught of
power roiling through me. I felt like a caged animal waiting for the chance to
hunt in freedom.

“What the hell did you just call me?” I asked.

He sneered, twisting his handsome mask into something
unattractive. The vampire reached out as if to touch me, but I was quicker. I
batted his hand to the side. Anger danced in his eyes.

“You aren’t fit to be queen,” he growled.

The crowd murmured. Julian pressed at my mind, his agitation
clear. If he interceded, it made me look feeble, which in turn made him look
weak. But at the core of it, he didn’t trust me to do what needed to be done.

I straightened my shoulders. “No, I’m probably not fit, but
that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand here while you call me a whore.”

Act instead of react.

Flashes of images hit me, the times when I’d relented, when
I’d turned my back on what I’d spent my entire life learning and shied away
from violence. No more. I was Ella fucking Grey, Vampire Queen.

I pulled the knife from its sheath in one smooth, flawless
move. Pressing forward, I stabbed the blade into flesh and ripped a bloody path
from shoulder to stomach. Blood sprayed into the air from the force of my
attack, splattering my neck and stomach where the gown’s neckline plunged.

It wasn’t enough.

I pulled the knife free and surged up with my leg, burying
my knee into his dick. He dropped forward on a howl and I took advantage of his
distraction. Aiming for his thigh, I brought my weapon down, slicing across his
femoral artery.

He crumpled to the floor, cupping the gurgling fountain of
blood staining his pants. I toed him onto his back and stepped on his throat,
pressing my heel against his windpipe. It was a conscious struggle to keep from
puncturing his skin with the sharp point of my stiletto. I stared at him,
letting him see the predator who’d come to visit. I tucked my knife back into
its holder, giving him what might be his last glimpse of panties.

“Call me a whore again,” I applied more pressure and knew if
I tried hard enough I could shove my foot through his skin and break his neck, “and
I’ll aim for the head.”

Without waiting for an answer, I turned and started for the
exit. Now that the fight was over and the tension in the room no longer at DEFCON
one, I was tired. Pressure at the base of my skull had my head throbbing with
what was sure to be a migraine. Blood covered the front of me, making my skin
itch where it dried.

I needed a shower. I needed Micah. And maybe a hamburger.

“
Min askling
,” Julian said, phazing in front of me.

I glared. “Get out of my way.”

He cupped the nape of my neck and pulled my head back,
forcing me to look into his face. A nostalgic hunger filled his gaze. He licked
his lips. “I forgot how truly spectacular you can be.”

I gagged a little. Removing his hand one finger at a time, I
struggled to get my next sentence out with a straight face. “I’m glad I gave
you some jerk-off material for later. Now get out of my way.”

Julian chuckled and touched a hand to the base of my spine.
When I would have veered left, toward the front of the house, he steered me
right.

“I have something for you.”

“The homicidal vampire who fantasized about killing me was
enough. Thanks, but no thanks.”

We stopped in front of black lacquered doors. I shook my
head and reeled back. I knew this room. Knew what I’d lost in there.

“Nope.”

“It’s just a room,” he said and withdrew a key from his
pocket.

Just a room my ass.

Julian unlocked the door and ushered me through. Inside, the
massive area with vaulted ceilings was half library, half office. Floor-to-ceiling
shelves lined the walls, as if the entire room was made of books. I had
memories of lying on the sofa and flipping through page after page while Julian
attended to business.

“Julian,” I said and hated that my voice came out in a
whine, as if just being here transported me back seven years.

A black and gray brick fireplace dominated the north wall,
the only place books didn’t inhabit. Two large leather sofas sat facing each
other, an expensive-looking coffee table between them. Julian led me to the
couch and motioned for me to sit.

I swallowed and stared at the spot I’d lost my virginity. “Why
are we here?”

“I told you, I have a gift.”

“And that had to be done, here?”

Half of his mouth curled up. “Sit. Would you like something
to drink?”

“I’ll stand. Now cut the crap.”

Julian swiped his thumb over his lower lip and lowered his
gaze to mine. “You know I’d do anything for you, yes?”

Apprehension had my fingers twitching for my weapon. “Define
‘anything’.”

Julian walked across the room to his desk and poured himself
a drink from a crystal decanter. Did he still have whiskey in there, or had his
tastes changed? Nope. I didn’t really care. He slammed back the drink and wiped
his mouth with the back of his hand. His actions were so…un-Julian-like. What
the hell was wrong with him? I tried testing the bond between us to get a sense
of what had crawled up his ass and I found the black void from earlier. My sire
was closed up tight.

He grabbed a long, rectangular package before returning to
me. He sat on the edge of the coffee table and handed me the present.

Reason dictated I walk away and not look back. Curiosity had
me taking the offering. It was heavier than I expected. I looked from the
simple brown paper to him.

I sighed his name and handed him back the gift. “I don’t
want this. I don’t want you. Micah is my life.”

He shook his head and refused to take the box from me. “Just
open it.”

Resigned to the fact that arguing would only prolong my time
with him, I slipped my finger under the flap of paper and unwrapped, uncovering
a black, hinged antique box. I opened the lid, the rusted brackets creaking,
and stared down at the gleaming obsidian blade cushioned on a bed of scarlet
velvet. Jewels of rich blues, reds and greens lined the slender hilt made
specifically for a woman’s grip.

“Oh my God,” I gasped and reached out to reverently stroke
the black blade with the tip of my finger. “It’s beautiful.”

Julian wrapped his hand around the hilt and lifted the
ancient weapon from its casing. When he spoke, he looked at the knife and not
me. “This is what they call the Blade of Souls.”

His words had me jerking my attention from my reflection in
the blade to Julian. My uncle’s warning came back to me. “But…Richard…”

I didn’t even know where to start.

“I love you, Ella.” His gaze clashed with mine. Something I’d
never seen on him filled his face—desperation. “I’ll do anything to keep you by
my side.”

I took an instinctive step back. “That’s the second time you’ve
said that.”

“I know you love him…and I’m sorry,
min askling
. I
am.”

I was given no other warning. Julian shifted his hold and
surged forward. The smooth black blade melted through my chest, parting flesh
as if it were butter. I gasped at the fiery fingers of pain and had a total
what-the-fuck moment. I looked down at the knife protruding from me, blood
spilling from the wound, then up into Julian’s eyes.

Sorrow filled his gaze.

The pain spread through me, stealing my breath, and I
stumbled back. The knife grew hotter and hotter. I cried out at the burning
agony that paralyzed me, keeping me from ripping the damn thing out of my
heart. The shadow wrapped around my soul hissed like some giant cat sensing
danger. Darkness filled my vision, eclipsing everything.

I was only vaguely aware of falling back, of Julian catching
me and pulling me into him. Cold fingers smoothed the hair from my face as I
gasped for breath that wouldn’t come. My soul came apart and in my dark place,
I could see the process clearly.

One facet at a time, my essence uncoiled. Layer by layer,
the parts that belonged to Micah and the ones that were mine fell away,
disintegrating into nothing—leaving me empty. I screamed, writhing, gasping,
clawing at the unbearable pain of having my mate—my soul—ripped from me.

Holy fuck.

For the second time in my life, Julian had killed me. Only
this time, like a mindless twit, I only had myself to blame.

I paced the length of my cell, each step a loud echo against
the concrete floor and stone walls. Minutes after Ella had left, my uncle had
shown up with both Dante and Eli. Castro had anticipated my attachment, my
inability to keep up my part of an agreement in the stupid contract Julian had
had a team of lawyers draw up.

Red consumed my vision. Inside me, my demon howled, the need
to find Ella and bring her home an instinct neither of us could fight.

“Fucking prick, asshole.” The low, continuous growl
emanating from my chest gave my voice a feral edge—half demon, half man.

There wasn’t nearly enough space for me to work off the rage
spiraling through me. With each pass, I trailed my fingers over the steel bars
trapping me inside this fucking cage and glared at my brother.

Eli sat on the ground in front of me, his back pressed to
the wall, his legs stretched out before him. Chunks of glass littered the floor
like gleaming diamonds from the glass tumbler I’d thrown at him.

He lifted a bottle of cheap whiskey to his lips. “I’m not
letting you out.”

I seized hold of the bars with both hands, straining with
everything I had to bend them apart. My muscles trembled under the strain and
still my prison held true. Leave it to fucking Lizbeth to have a dungeon in the
basement.

“Fuck!” I bellowed and pushed away to look for something to
destroy. “I swear to fucking Christ, the second I get out of here I’m kicking
the shit out of you.”

“Even more motivation for me not to let you out, thanks, bro.”
He took another swig before closing his eyes and leaning the back of his head
against the wall.

I snarled, throwing my body at the cage. Over and over, I
rammed forward, intent on getting free even if it killed me. The bond between me
and Ella was stretched tight, a noose around my neck that was moments from
killing me.

“You. Will. Pa—” Searing agony ripped through me and stole
my breath mid-rant. The bars narrowed and then widened, moving in and out of
focus. My brother’s form blurred into two, three, no four different shapes.
Another jolt of electric torture hit me hard and I fell to my knees.

“Micah?” Eli’s voice was distant.

I clutched my chest, struggling to keep my skin from
splitting apart. I felt as if I’d been stabbed. Through the sensations, I homed
in on the pain—focused until I found the source. Not knifed, the agony ran
deeper. Someone—something—was ripping out my soul.

No. Not my soul.

Ella’s.

Her scream echoed in my head despite the unknown distance
between us, her voice raw and cracking. I couldn’t get to her. Couldn’t save
her. Unimaginable pain gripped me with a savagery I hadn’t known existed. I
pressed a hand to my gut, clutching fabric and skin in a pathetic attempt to
keep Ella with me. On the other end of the bond she fought just as hard as me.
Bit by bit, one intermingled strand at a time, our bond sheared apart. The skin
marked with my mating tattoo tingled, a gradual fading as my mate took her last
breaths.

No. No. No.

A deep, guttural yowl ripped from my throat. Before I could
ball my hands into fists, my limbs seized. I pitched forward, my cheek
colliding with the floor. Ice filled my veins, eradicating the fire inside me
and paralyzing the demon. Violent tremors shook me from head to toe and I
flopped on the floor.

I had to get up. Had to save her.

“Micah?”

I heard Eli’s voice but couldn’t answer. Couldn’t form the
words. Couldn’t think beyond the ripping anguish. Beyond the cold. Beyond the
grief.

Ella. Jesus, fuck. I knew what the pain meant. Knew that she
was…dying. My heart broke, shattering much like the tumbler I’d thrown at Eli had
when it had crashed against the wall. Behind my closed lids I saw Ella, saw the
cascade of blood running across her stomach, felt it as if it were me bleeding
to death and not her.

“Micah?” Eli asked again, panic spiking his voice.

The vibration of my chattering teeth thundered. My racing
pulse slowed under the weight of the torment filling me. My surroundings spun
in shades of gray. And then, there was nothing. No pain. No ice. No heartbreak.
Nothing.

Without Ella life was…a void.

I rolled my head to the side and looked down the long line
of my outstretched arm. My balled fist, the one marked by my demon, slowly
uncurled. The time between my beating heart slowed, slowed, slowed…stopped,
mimicking Ella’s. The last thing I saw was my palm, fingers stretched as if
reaching out for the woman who’d been stolen from me.

I love you.

I came awake to a hard, quick slap across my face, the noise
of it ringing out. I snapped my eyes open with a gasp. Before I could sit up, someone
pushed me back to the bed. Sobs filled the room and I struggled to bring my
surroundings in to focus. Was I still in the basement? Still locked in that
cage? Where was Ella?

Her heady, intoxicating scent engulfed me, a mixture of
power and darkness. I drew it in, memorizing each facet.

“Ella,” I rasped, my voice raw and cracking as if I’d been
screaming.

The crying grew louder, the agonized sound tearing through
me. The room came into focus. I was in the bedroom Ella and I shared. In the
corner, Hannah sat curled in Dante’s lap. Her long blonde hair hung over her
face like a sheet. As if she felt my gaze, she lifted her head and the golden
strands parted. Her red-rimmed eyes were glassy from the overflowing tears. Her
nose was red, forehead splotched. Her chin quivered and she let out a
hiccupping cry.

Ella.

Memory slammed into me and I was back inside the cage,
forced to watch—to feel—her death. The bond between us was no more. A new bout
of pain filled me and I knew in the depths of my being Ella was gone.

Dead.

No. I couldn’t accept it. I screwed my eyes shut and fought
the burn behind my lids. Hoping to stop the riot of emotion spiraling out of
control, I curled my hand into a tight fist and pressed it to my forehead.
Helplessness filled me as swiftly as the grief.

“Look at me,” Castro ordered.

I opened my eyes and found myself staring into my uncle’s
guilt-stricken face. He gripped my shoulder tighter, drawing my attention to
the fact he’d been touching me the entire time.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.

“Tell me where she is.”

Castro clenched his jaw, the muscles under his trimmed black
beard twitching in rhythmic pulses. “We can’t locate her…”

I shoved his hand off me. Anger and rage coalesced, beating
everything else to a bloody pulp. Something pulsed in my gut—a spark, a
miniscule piece of my soul that called out to me. I felt it like an echo, a
vague sense of Ella being there but not there, like a shade caught between life
and death.

Don’t you fucking dare give up on her.

“What. The. Fuck. Happened. To. Ella?” I growled.

Hannah’s sobs increased tenfold, echoing throughout the
room. It was a sharp contrast to the cries of ecstasy Ella had so freely given
me when I’d made love to her only hours before. Dante’s deep rumbling voice
chased Hannah’s anguished noises, but I knew nothing he could say would ease
her pain. Nothing no one said could erase the hurt.

“We don’t know,” Castro said. “Eli’s been trying to get in
contact with Eiven, but the Fenrir isn’t picking up. Julian cannot be reach
either.”

Eiven. Julian. Fucking disgraces. I snarled, knowing that
they should have been protecting her and knowing that they’d failed.

I threw the sheets off my lap and looked down as I swung my
legs off the side of the bed. I stopped and stared at my naked skin. I
remembered the way my flesh had heated and tingled, recalled how my bond with
Ella had been torn apart piece by piece. No bond. No crimson lines marking me
as a mated demon.

They were simply gone—erased as if they had never been.

Rage propelled me out of bed despite the trembling in my
legs. The room spun and I shoved forward anyway. Castro was there, catching me
when I would have hit the floor.

“You are too weak to be out of bed. It’s a miracle you
survived at all. Your heart stopped beating for five minutes.”

A fierce rumbling tore from my throat and I shoved Castro
away, standing on my own merit. “Fuck you. If you’d let me follow her, if I’d
been there, she’d be safe. She’d be here with me! This is your fault.”

I crossed the room in the direction of Hannah, each stride
filling me with the strength of vengeance. Julian was going to wish he’d never
been born. His death wouldn’t be quick or clean. In fact, he might not die at
all. I’d keep him alive, let him heal between bouts of my temper. When I got
tired of the vampire, I’d move on to the werewolf. The demon hissed its
approval, adding everything it had to aid me in my quest.

Hannah blinked at me, large fat tears rolling down her
cheeks. Fear replaced the grief in her eyes. My brother stepped in front of me,
his body a solid wall of muscle to block my view.

“Micah, take a minute,” he warned.

I snarled, pushing him out of the way. Hannah would know
where Julian had taken Ella. I’d start there.

Dante set Hannah on her feet and stood in front of her with
his meaty arms crossed over his chest. Behind him, Hannah backed up against the
wall and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. She shook her head, more
tears falling free. The shifter lifted his lip and drew my focus. The canines he
exposed were too long for a human. Energy rolled off him, a clear sign of
danger. With nothing to lose, I stepped into the skin-splitting power
surrounding him.

When he spoke, his voice had a rolling vibration to it. “Listen
to your brother. Violence dances in your eyes. You aren’t getting anywhere near
my girl.”

The demon surged and strength pulsed through me. I grabbed
Dante’s shirt and lifted him off the ground, tossing him against the wall hard
enough to leave a dent. Hannah shrieked and darted to the right, but I was
quicker. I caught her, pinching her cheeks together and pursing her lips to
keep her still.

“You’ve looked over all the deeds, all the assets.” I spoke
fast, my words running together and gaining volume. “Tell me where Julian would
have taken her for the party.”

“Micah.” She grabbed my forearm and sobbed, her terror
touchable. “You’re hurting me.”

Moisture trailed over my fingers where I gripped her and I
shook her. “Tell me!”

“Let her go.” Eli’s voice was fierce, his hands hard where
he and Castro pried my grip from Hannah. They pushed me back and took guard in
front of the key I needed to find my mate.

Dante rose from the ground and swayed, blood dripping from a
gash at his temple. When he would have lunged for me, Castro was there, whispering
into his ear and holding him back. I turned from them and stalked through the
room as brutality consumed me.

I picked up the lamp from the end table—one of the only
furnishings Ella and I had picked out together—and threw it across the room.
Ceramic shattered and fell to the wood floor in large chunks. I took hold of
the bedding that still smelled of blood, sex and Ella—tore the sheets from the
mattress and ripped the fabric to shreds.

My breath sawed through me. Everywhere I looked, remnants of
my life with Ella taunted me. Where we’d made love on the dresser. Up against
the wall. On the plush rug in the center of the room when we hadn’t been able
to make it to the bed. For two straight days when we’d first moved in we’d done
nothing but make love, both of us determined to claim this space as our own, to
mark it with our scents.

What I saw, I destroyed. I pulled furniture from walls,
picked up drawers and tossed. Clothing sailed through the air, floating on a
vicious gust of wind from an open window. I raged and raged. It wasn’t enough.
Nothing was enough to appease the consuming violence straining to be free.

My mate was gone and she wasn’t coming back.

She was never coming back.

I collapsed to the floor in the middle of the room, threw my
head back and screamed.

She’d needed me and I failed her.

I’d never again hear her laughter—see her smile—feel her go
all soft when I stroked that spot deep inside her.

“Don’t…” someone warned seconds before Hannah’s face filled
my vision.

I looked into her sorrow-filled gaze and lost myself. The
backs of my eyes heated with grief and my vision blurred. She dropped to her
knees in front of me as if she couldn’t bear to stand any longer. We stared at
each other for long seconds—sharing our pain—before she threw herself at me,
wrapping her long, slender arms around me and pressing her tear-stained face
into my neck. I clutched the back of her head, holding on to her for dear life.

“Roy woke up while you were unconscious. The first thing he
asked for was Ella and I…I couldn’t tell him. Didn’t know how…” She spoke
against my skin, her words muffled but understandable. “Julian wouldn’t have
taken Ella to one of Lizbeth’s properties, not for this. He has a mansion about
an hour from here—it’s where they used to go when they were together. Get
dressed and I’ll write down the directions for you. If he was going to…kill
her, he’d do it there. I can’t tell Roy until I know what happened.”

I pulled her away from me and nodded as I smoothed the
tangled strands of her hair from her face. I searched her gaze, trying to find
the right words. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I shouldn’t have let her go alone. I
should have found a way to follow her…”

She pressed her finger against my lips, silencing me.
Something dark filled her eyes and made her look more like Ella than I’d ever
seen. The ache in my chest amplified.

“Make his death slow. Painful. I want him to pay, Micah.”

I stroked the bruises I’d left on her cheek and nodded. “You
have my word.”