Big Game (The V V Inn, Book 3) (22 page)

Vivian

My wounds heal
slower now that the demented pair has drained half my blood. I hope the fools drink it, then we’ll see who laughs last. The ties a vampire has to their own blood is independent of manipulator traits. The silver hood will restrict me from mind controlling them—but, if they are stupid enough to swallow a taste while I’m still alive, I’ll use my blood like a weapon, cutting them down from within.

A thin silver blade slices down my thigh, leaving a wake of fire in its passing. When the torture started, I laughed, the maniacal noise bouncing off the tiled room, echoing through the air like a crazed hyena.

The intense pain helped me block out the loss of my spouse, and I welcomed it with open arms. Now, hours later, every cut draws a scream from my throat, sounding to my ears like the ragged, deranged shrieks must be coming from someone else.

Agony pumps through my veins with every slow beat of my heart. The bastards stuck silver needles into my flesh and add another every time I give them an answer they’re unhappy with. Again and again, they ask me questions I don’t have any information about. All along, I thought Cora hated me for me, not for what I am and the unknown threat I represent to the vampire species.

How stupid I’d been. It was for something greater all along.

I drift for a moment, skating the boundary between consciousness and oblivion. When I skirt too close to the edge, and the burning pain recedes, the real dread begins. I rage against the offer of peace my body longs to give me, banging my foot hard on the table to keep myself awake.

I exist solely within the pain now, fearing the darkness in my soul, embracing the suffering like an old friend in order to delay my grief over Rafe’s demise. I anticipate the death awaiting me, eager to grasp it to my breast while my sanity holds. I know my husband may be on the other side…. or in my next life. No matter what lurks in the great beyond, I have no doubt it has got to be better than this burning, never-ending torture.

Lucas’ face, twisted with his hatred and disgust, looms over me, dripping spittle on my exposed flesh as he rages. “Tell us what you know of the other manipulators!”

I repeat what I’ve said every time. “Nothing.” A note of pleading enters my tone. “Kill me.” I close my eyes and turn my hooded head away. My mind keeps echoing,
I have no reason to live.

The replay of Rafe’s last moment tumbles over and over in my mind. The last look of rebellion on his face as he struggled against his captors. His blood shooting into the air… and then spreading in a large pool around his discarded body on the floor. The helpless denial torn from my lips as I crashed toward him, determined to save him even in those last seconds.

What a fool I’ve been, to think I could escape what every manipulator before me could not. My own helplessness washes over me, tears springing to my eyes and falling unseen beneath the silver hood.

Too strong to use, too dangerous to live, too valuable to kill.

What an idiot to think I should be allowed to love again. Did I not learn before? All those close to me used against me in the end. Their reward for loving me was death.

Death is all I am.

One more silver needle slides into the sensitive, exposed skin of my underarm. The burn spirals deep, my flesh trying its best to crawl away from the inflicted wound, while an answering wail rips from my lips.

After a minute, Cora’s voice cuts through my screaming. “Let’s try another train of questions.” She stalks across the room to where I’m strapped, spread-eagled, with silver chains on a metal autopsy table. “What do you know of the Atlantians?”

Her words filter through my haze of agony, and I open my eyes, to gaze through the slitted hood at the woman responsible for taking away the only person in my life who helped me cling to sanity—to my remaining humanity. Her question makes no sense to my pain-rattled mind. “What?”

A spark of interest lights in her dark blue eyes. “Do you know of your ancestry? Your ties to the ancient race?”

I shake my head, grateful for a respite from the silver torture, but still have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Who was your maker?” she hisses. I flinch as the flat of a silver blade is held against my stomach, burning my flesh before she pulls it away. “Your sire is not listed in the archives.”

Unsure if I should answer, confused what the knowledge could lead to, I speak, hoping to learn from their interest. “Take out the needles and I’ll tell you.” A gleeful look of triumph crosses her face and she pockets her dagger. Cora yanks out the dozen needles, one by one.

“What are you doing?” Lucas barks from across the room.

She’s doing exactly what I want. The extraction hurts as much as the insertion and the pain will keep me awake. Too much torture will shut me down, so I need to balance it. It’s a dangerous game I’m playing. Dragging out my death to ensure I die with my sanity intact. Fire plumes bright as each needle slides out and I wrap the sensations around my mind, shielding myself from grief.

“Shut up, Lucas. We can put them back in when she stops cooperating.”

My body starts to heal, albeit very slowly and not without problems. Every time I think the pain receptors must be dead, a new wash of agony shoots through the damaged flesh, proving me wrong.

“Tell me, Alexandria, or I’ll let Lucas put the needles back in.”

Bitch is enjoying this way too much. “Mikov was my maker,” I say through gritted teeth.

“When were you turned?” Cora asks, leaning down to my ear.

The physical pain recedes, allowing the crushing loss of Rafe to rush in. A sob hitches in my chest and a small part of me wishes the needles were back inside so I could focus on the pain instead. The black depth inside my soul reaches up to smother the memory of my love, attempting to save me with the peaceful oblivion of the dark acts of my past.

Kill or be killed. Blood and more blood. Lust and sex.

The monster needs no emotions, just action. Slice, suck, drain to death… laughing all the while. A mindless beast, a pure killing machine… the dark beauty of my prior actions entices me to give up… to give in. No more pain, simply surrender to the black hole no amount of blood can ever fill.

No more love, no more loss.

Cora screams, “Tell me! When were you turned?”

I don’t care if she knows, but now I need the pain of the silver to hold the devil inside me at bay. If I succumb and accept the darkness I will lose everything I value—I will lose my memories of Rafe and the love we shared. I will lose myself in the evil I will become. How much of the pain can I take? Will my mind shut down before they decide to kill me?

“Fuck off, bitch,” I say, decision made.

Her face mottles with rage, and she stabs me, plunging the silver dagger into my shoulder, then withdrawing the blade in one quick strike. Fire sears through my blood, racing toward my heart, causing the organ to skip its slow steady beat.

“Cora!” Lucas yells, stopping the psycho vampire from sinking the knife again. “What difference can it make when she was turned?”

“I knew of Mikov.” Cora replies, anger and speculation in her tone. “He died with his whole seethe in a farmhouse in England.”

“So?”

“If his whole seethe died, why wasn’t
she
with him?”

I wrap the pain of the recent wound around the tattered remains of my mind, pushing the black abyss away one more time. I’m ready to die, but I’ll never be ready to lose what remains of my humanity ever again.

“Stay focused, Coraline. More important than where she was or when she was turned—can we use her power? Can she reveal more of their plans?” Lucas walks away, his steps across the tile floor sounding measured and precise in the sterile room. “Does she know about the others, or do we know more than she does?”

“She’s too old not to know what’s going on.”

I don’t know what the hell they’re talking about, nor do I care. A conspiracy of manipulators? If I had the strength to laugh, I would. This whole witch-hunt against me was to find out what I knew about something I had no idea even existed. Fat chance they’ll believe me now.

A familiar voice calls from a far end of the room. “From what we’ve uncovered, she’s isolated herself from our kind most of her life. She could very well know nothing.”

What the hell is he doing here? Has that smooth-talking bastard tricked me all these years? I shake my head slightly at my own foolishness. Ah… what difference does it make? I know nothing they need and with any luck I’ll be dead soon and joining my husband.

Steps sound across the tile, bringing the traitor next to Cora. “Most helpful would be the names of all those she’s turned over the years.”

Cora’s breath pulls in sharply. “You mean she could have produced more manipulators?”

A mad bubble of hysteria blossoms in my chest, only the muted burn of the stab wound keeping it locked inside. Me? Turn other manipulators? God, wouldn’t that be a hoot? Paul’s the only one I’d ever seen who exhibited illusionary skills in over four hundred years.

An unwelcome thought pushes to the forefront of my mind.
But then again, you never kept the others around very long, did you?

An image of Paul flashes across my brain. What about Paul and his disappearing trick in the hangar with Emiko? A small spark penetrates my foggy desperation craving death.
Must not reveal Paul.
Whether his skills will develop into mine or not is still unknown, but there’s no way I’m pointing these jackals his way if I can help it. At least if I die here he’ll be protected.

“You never know. She could have,” he answers.

Considering I’ve forgotten almost as much of my life as I can recall, I’m not worried about revealing names to my tormentors. In my current mental state I can’t even remember the last five I turned who lived past three months old—except for Cy. There was a stretch of time I changed one every decade or so, but that was centuries in the past. Surely, if any of them were alive I would have run into them by now.

Not unless they remained hidden, like you did.

Content I have enough fortitude to not throw my offspring to these wolves, I relax, embracing the last of the healing pain as the stab wound in my shoulder finally closes. The best I can hope for is a quick death or a pain filled existence until I do expire. Anything less would end me as I am. I need to stay alert, too. My mind won’t hold onto the agony when I’m unconscious, leaving my subconscious vulnerable to attack to my monster within.

Can I provoke them into killing me? That would be far easier. If I let the emotional loss in, my vampiric self-preservation could overcome my weakened mental state and block out everything good I’ve ever done in my life.

Every kiss, every caress, every life I saved… all of it will be gone. When they kill me, I’ll be like all those mindless rogues I hunted years ago—how will I be reunited with Rafe then?

My head drifts back against the cold metal of the table. Darkness seeps in around the edges and for once in the past few hours it’s not the pull of madness but of oblivion. No! I can’t let go yet!

The suave, smooth voice cuts across the void, sounding like it’s coming from deep in a tunnel. “I think she’s had enough for now, Cora. Let’s start again in a few hours.”

As consciousness slips from my grasp, the dark abyss rushes in to claim me.

Jonathan

I raced out of the
basement meeting with Cy and Asa, unable to talk with the two bloodsuckers a minute longer. What’s happened in Argentina? Why can’t I feel Vivian in my mind? That stupid jealous bastard should have let me come. I would have protected her!

There are no planes that work. The roads to the south are still impassable. There is no one in Coldfoot whose safety I could risk to call in to fly me out. And even then, how would I get to her?

I’ve dialed her number over and over to no avail. She wouldn’t willingly cut me off, would she? My frantic pacing has led me to the windowless dojo on the resort’s main floor. A body bag for boxing hangs in one corner and I launch myself across the space, eager to take out my frustration on the inanimate object.

“You promised me!” I yell, hitting the canvas as hard as I can. The heavy piece of equipment is double chained, to the floor and ceiling, limiting its swing after each strike. Anger pours from me, fueling my actions, lending a vicious speed to my fists. I pummel the stiff fabric again and again, no rhyme or reason to my blows, just straight punches with the strength of an angry werewolf behind them.

Where the hell are Paul and Drew? They called when they landed—but that was hours ago. Nothing since then. I hit the bag, both fists flying through the air, in every combination I can imagine. I start to sidestep around the bag, hitting it on the swing instead of waiting for it to settle. Maybe I should call Chelly? What good could she do? Calling her will only make her worry more than I bet she already is.

My face heats from exertion, and my throat scratches raw as I continue to yell and hit. A long scream rips from my lungs as I strike again and again, my knuckles leaving blood on the tan material. This should have never happened!

“No!” I pant out, voicing my anger to the room. “We do not end like this, you redheaded bitch!” Tears stream down my face, mingling with sweat. My hands lash out over and over until the pain in my fists registers.

I pitch forward, hugging the bag in both arms, sagging to let the chain hold my weight. After several minutes, my breathing slows and returns to normal. Acceptance enters my brain as the worst of the fear and anger dissolved during the mindless hitting.

She would not leave Rafe willingly. And if he were with her, one of them would call. If there is a way out of whatever is happening to her, I must have faith that she will find it. She promised me she would not cut me out of their lives again, and I need to take her words at face value. She’s given me no reason not to trust her. Something is blocking our link and I have a feeling it’s the one thing in the world that could make her break her word to me—a silver hood.

My pulse slows, and I come back to myself. My hands have already started to heal and the stinging wounds feel good. I flex my fingers, working the stiffness out of them while I straighten up. For the first time in the seven years I’ve dedicated my life to her, she truly needs me, and I’m not there for her.

I roll my shoulders back and lean my head from side to side. No matter how hard it is to take, I have to face that I can’t control the actions or choices of a half-millennia old vampire.
If
I were there, is a whole ‘nother line of doubt I don’t want to put myself through.

I leave the room and cross the hall into the gym. The window has long been repaired from when Vivian dove through the glass and ripped Vikram’s head off. A small smile lights my face at the memory of that night. I was almost gone, and she brought me back from death’s door. If anyone can get through being hooded in the Seat of Darkness, it’s Vivian.

The peaceful warmth of the water calls out to me. I strip my sweaty clothes and drop them on the bench near the large shower. Rafe and Vivian bathed the blood off of me after the attack, or so they told me. I turn on the faucet and look back at the wooden bench. I don’t recall much after she dug out that vampire fingernail in my side. Must have passed out from my injuries.

The hot water feels good after the pounding I gave my muscles. The anger needed to get out. I didn’t hurt anyone else or break anything, so I’ll count that as an alpha success on my part. I’ve always laughed at the concept of anger management classes. I think most of those unhappy bastards just need to freakin’ exercise and beat up a punching bag once in a while. Let out that built up frustration and testosterone.

I lather myself and rinse off, standing under the spray of hot water, not ready to get out of the relaxing shower yet. A throat clears beyond the glass door. “Yeah?” I call out. “Be done in a minute.”

I hear the rustle of clothing over the noise of the water and then the shower door opens. “Hey—” I whip around to complain and face the gloriously naked shifter, Candy. “Oh, wow. Hey.”

A mischievous smile decorates her face, a dimple flashing at me through the steam. Her toned body is more than I could have ever bargained for—defined waist, fit legs, slim hips, and breasts just begging to be sucked. Blood surges to my crotch, and parts I have no control over start to stir. Damn, I pray she’s here for what I hope.

“Would you like some company?” Her eyes travel my wet body, lingering briefly on my healing hands before dipping lower to my rising cock.

I smile, surprised I’m able to let go of the hurt and worry of earlier. It’s still there—defused by my physical release on the punching bag and manageable—not so stifling now.

“What did you have in mind?” I ask, wanting to make sure I don’t overstep myself. Hell, she could be a cock tease for all I know.

She takes the soapy scrubby from my hands and slowly runs it from her neck, between those gorgeous breasts then over her stomach. Her eyes are locked on mine the entire time. “I heard you in the other room.”

I tense up, my face freezing. What is this, some kind of pity seduction?

“I wasn’t spying on purpose. I was worried about you.”

Does she think I’m some crying sensitive bastard now and I need a shoulder to lean on? “I’m okay now, thanks.” I try to move past her, out of the shower, and she stops me with a hand to my chest.

“I know what she means to you, Jon. I admire your loyalty and dedication. She sounds like a woman worthy of it, and that’s impressive—hard to find nowadays.”

I look past her, unwilling to meet her penetrating gaze. “She’s not from ‘these days’. She’s an alien figure from the past. One with a dangerous history and a lot of enemies. She’s often cold and very powerful.” What the hell am I doing? Trying to push her away? I look down at Candy, not sure what game she’s playing, but ready to lay my cards on the table. “She’s my general in the war of life. She does the jobs no one wants, and she’d do anything for the people she cares for.”

“I know that, Jon. Your words and actions told me.” Her arms twine around my neck and she presses her wet, soapy flesh to mine.

The range of emotions I’ve experienced in the past hour have left me raw and exposed. Maybe I’m not ready for some quick, meaningless poke in the shower. A sigh escapes me as my pain and desolation crash back. Hell. I tilt away from her embrace, unsure what the devil I want.

Candy’s perky nipples rub against the tight skin of my chest while my erect cock nudges her stomach. “I don’t want to replace her, you idiot,” she says. “I want to be here to ease your pain and tell you I understand.”

A snort of disbelief escapes me as my traitorous body screams to take what she’s so freely offering. “You understand I love another woman?”

She reaches up and places her lips on mine, tender yet firm. Giving and taking, all at once. “You’d love her even if she were a man—that’s what the vampire bond does to you.” She rubs herself against me, the slip and slide of her skin on mine almost enough to bring me off right here. “I also know that bond isn’t the same as being in love.”

I grab her upper arms, not sure if I want to shove her away or pull her closer and bury myself in her up to the hilt. “Oh yeah? And what makes you so smart?”

“I knew someone once who explained it all to me.” Her hands trace circles on my chest, gradually fanning lower while the hot water streams over us. “There’s room in your heart for more than one love, Jon. Let me in. See if I’m a good fit.”

And just like that the dam breaks. My will folds, my desires and secret wants barrel to the surface, urging me to claim this woman and make her my own. I press my lips to hers, almost crushing her softer flesh in my desperation to climb inside her.

The spark of my passion fuels her own and she meets me, lunge for lunge, battling my tongue for position. “Oh my God,” I mumble when I come up for air. “You taste so freakin’ good. Did you just eat a steak?”

Candy smiles and dips her head a little, biting her bottom lip. “When you want to attract a predator, would you use fruit or flesh?”

I laugh in the confines of the shower and pick her up by the waist, encouraging her to wrap her legs around me so I can get a nice grip on her firm ass. “I want to be inside you so badly, Candy. I don’t think I can wait.”

She smiles and tilts her hips, angling her wet pussy to accept the head of my engorged cock. “Who says you have to wait?” She circles her hips, forcing me in deeper. “Might be a little tight at first, but I bet you won’t mind.” The feel of her snug snatch covering the first two inches of my dick pushes my resolve and concentration past the breaking point. She rasps over the shower, “Do me hard and fast—then make it up to me on round two.”

Relief over her simple acceptance of me races to the forefront, my heart burning in my chest. With an animal roar of lust, I squeeze that sweet little ass of hers in and thrust all the way home, feeling the walls of her hot pussy gripping my cock as I push deeper.

At our joining, her moan of pleasure matches my own, and she tosses her head back into the stream of water, letting the shower cascade over her chest and pretty little nipples. I spread my stance and change the grip of my hands to her hips, lifting the young woman off my length before sliding back into her waiting heat.

“Damn, Jon, you’ve got a nice thick prick,” her passion-filled voice sounds husky and sexy in the acoustics of the shower.

I grumble low in my chest, the sound spilling like a low growl. “The better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“Oh God, that’s hot.” She circles her hips on each thrust, working my prick inside her in a way I can’t do from this angle on my own. “Oh yeah,” she pants, “it’s been so long. You have no idea.”

I laugh, full and deep, while my cock plunges in her hot wet sheath. She truly has no idea the length of time since I’ve been with a woman like this…eight years or more…. I know I won’t last much longer.

The world around us disappears into the steam as the clasp of her pussy forces every rational thought from my mind. The sole focus of my attention centers on my flesh pistoning in and out of this glorious woman, climbing higher and higher toward my release with every stroke.

A primal moan rips from Candy—her circling hips ratcheting up a notch, encouraging me to plunge harder and faster into her. My fingers dig into her slim hips, and there’s a moment where I worry I’m gripping her too hard. She comes, her inner muscles rippling up and down my shaft. My own peak explodes with the added sensations, a guttural groan tearing from me to echo through the steam-filled shower.

I slow my pumping as my orgasm spills into her still-spasming flesh. Her upper body snaps forward, her mouth open, a look of pure abandon in her expression. She latches onto the thick muscle of my shoulder and bites hard. Not enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a mark.

I laugh, taken by surprise at her actions. “What the hell was that?”

She licks the spot she bit, our bodies still firmly connected at our pelvises. Candy gazes at me with a sexually satisfied expression. “I’ve marked you with my intent.”

The practice symbolizes the recent sexual joining was more than a physical release. That the Were is open to pursuing more if the other is willing.

At my look of shock she goes on. “Has no Were shown serious interest in you before?”

I reach behind me and turn off the water. My cock starts to regain its full firmness inside my new lover, eager to prove I’m good for more than one round. “No,” I say and kiss her with a tenderness I don’t think she expected after our passionate first encounter. “No one ever has.”

“It was their loss, babe. Trust me.” She disengages from my erection, a wistful look on her face, before sliding back to the floor. I let go of her with regret. God, it felt so good to cut loose and be myself with a woman… really be with a woman and not the farce I’ve attempted for years.

My feelings bubble up and out before I can analyze them to death and muzzle myself. “I’m glad you did.” I smile to soften the intensity of the moment. “Now, I plan to do you again and ‘mark’ you ‘til you can’t walk.”

Candy steps out of the shower and grabs a towel. With one sexy look over her shoulder she wraps the towel around herself. “You’ll have to catch me first.” She smirks and darts off toward the gym.

My heart sings as I leap after her, forgoing my own towel, eager to get my rigid cock between her silky folds again as fast as I possibly can.