Blood Lust (26 page)

It looked like a cave. They were in a large circular room with stone walls and a dome ceiling. Vents near the ceiling piped in air. She felt as if the air had heated and was pressing in on her, trying to suffocate her.

“We’re underground, aren’t we?”

Cole nodded. He was standing about eight feet away, his arms crossed over his chest, observing her like a bug under a glass.

She sat on the black leather couch behind her––more like collapsed––and put her head in her hands. “Please let me go. I’ll find a way to get you your money. I can’t stay here.” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading.

“I said no. You’re staying with me.”

“But it’s underground. I can’t . . . ” She started to hyperventilate.

He was beside her in less than a second, but she couldn’t think about that now. The walls were closing in.

“Claustrophobic?”

He didn’t say it with a mocking tone or an evil sneer, just a question.

“Yes. Please, you can’t keep me here.”

He knelt on the floor beside her and took her hands in his. Not threatening, not sexual. Comforting.

He’d taken her hostage, and now he was comforting her?

“Look at me.”

She did.

“Now, take a deep breath in very slowly. Good. Now, out.”

She breathed with him. It was so ridiculous. She was with a werewolf and the thing that put her over the edge into complete hysteria was being underground.

“This place is big. There is plenty of air. The system we use is state of the art and has security you wouldn’t believe. Even if the vent stopped––and you’d know it instantly––you’d have a day’s worth of oxygen. Maybe more. But a day’s worth at minimum.”

Jane looked at him warily. He was being so nice. It had been ages since anyone but Charlee had been this kind to her. She wanted to believe it. But if he were really a good guy, he’d let her go. Besides, this wasn’t the first time someone had been nice to her just to screw with her later.

But weren’t head games a vampire thing? Werewolves didn’t do that, did they? From all she’d heard, wolves weren’t big on subtle. They were supposed to be more about the mauling and tearing limbs off.

“Are you okay now?”

She nodded.

“I’m going to take a shower. Feel free to look around the den.”

He got up from his crouched position on the floor and disappeared into one of the doors in the stone wall, leaving Jane with her thoughts.

The hiss of the shower was strangely soothing but even more comforting was having a moment alone. Paul had never left her alone, going so far as to put a guardian watch dog on her while he slept. God, Jane. Think.

The knowledge about the vents had calmed her enough to stop the hysteria. Though even without that knowledge, she would have gone into survival mode and forgotten the claustrophobia panic. Maybe.

There are bigger things to worry about than walls closing in. She shouldn’t have thought that. She dropped to the ground on her hands and knees as memories of enclosed spaces slammed into her so hard she could barely breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block the images of the past, and forced herself back to her feet. She fought back a wave of dizzy nausea and gripped the arm of the sofa for support.

The walls were a dark gray stone, probably natural to the area. The furnishings were minimalistic and modern.

Her eyes scanned the tops of the walls. Nearly a dozen large flat screens encircled the cave. He hadn’t been kidding about the security. When anyone got near, there was probably a loud ‘Security breach in Sector Five’ warning with buzzers and flashing red lights.

There were six doorways around the circumference of the cave’s main living area. Two of the doors had security panels and were made of steel. One she’d been led through. She didn’t know where the second went.

The other doorways were empty spaces carved out of the stone. No privacy. Not that she’d expected any. One of the doors led into the bathroom where the shower continued to run. She peeked inside the others to find a bedroom, kitchen, and an office.

She spotted a phone on the desk in the office and rushed to it, her heart racing. Instead of a dial tone she heard, “Please enter your security code to make an outgoing call.”

She fiddled in her coat pocket and came out with Paul’s cell phone. Only two bars left. By tomorrow night it would likely be dead. This might be her only opportunity. She hadn’t expected to get a signal. The wolf must have a tower. Of course he did. He lived in the Fortress of Paranoia.

Could the coven trace the call?

She took a deep breath and dialed.

“Jane?”

“Yeah, it’s me. You have caller ID; who else would I be?”

There were tears in Charlee’s voice. “Oh my god, you’re alive. Paul said you’d been killed. When we tried to get more information out of him, he said it was a werewolf. Where are you?”

Jane’s stomach roiled at Paul’s lie, but she chose not to address it. Getting to safety was the priority. Her eyes roved over the walls of the office, looking for anything that might give her a clue to her location to help them start a search.

“I don’t know. I’m in their den, I think. Cole has me.”

“Cole? Jane, you’ve got to get out of there.”

She gritted her teeth. “No, I thought it would be fun to hang out a while. If there was a way out, I would have taken it. I . . .”

The phone was pulled out of her hand. She spun to see Cole pressing the end button. He was standing in a towel, dripping from the shower. Her tongue darted out to wet her suddenly dry lips.

“No phone.”

She moved behind the desk to put something between them. Not that a puny little desk was going to stand in his way if he was going to go psycho over her trying to call for help. Before she could think of anything placating to say, the phone rang again. He answered it.

“Hello . . . Yes, this is Cole Riley . . . Yes, I have Jane . . . No, I won't release her to you . . . the debt is ten thousand dollars . . . Oh, you think you can get Anthony to give you the money? Does Anthony have limitless supplies of cash to cover the gambling debts of his fledge? Let me talk to him.”

Cole’s back was to her as he spoke. Jane sank into the chair and watched the water droplets trail their way down his skin, trying to convince herself it would be fine. Maybe he wouldn’t physically hurt her. She could have sex with him if that was what he wanted from her.

Oh, God, could she have sex with him. She worked to push the images of their bodies sliding against one another out of her mind. He’d kidnapped her. What was wrong with her? What if he passed her around, shared her with the pack?

She shuddered, her fantasy appropriately doused with a bucket of cold reality.

“Anthony, congratulations on the tournament. I haven’t had a chance to call you and congratulate you personally . . . Yes, well, I’ve been busy . . . you know how it is . . . Better you than Linus . . . all right, fine. Yes, I have Jane, and no, I’m not returning her.”

There was a long pause while Anthony delivered what must have been an impressive monologue.

“Have you taken a good look at her lately? She’s got some pretty deep bruises, and on her lower back I noticed what could only be knife wounds. Purposeful, lined up knife wounds. She’s not a cutter unless she’s a contortionist . . . ”

So he’d noticed that. She wanted to melt into the floor.

“ . . . She’s got a bite mark on her throat. You and I both know vampires only leave marks when they want a mark left . . . and it’s not a claim, or he would have protected her. So why exactly do you want her returned? You want to have her abused some more? . . . Fuck you. I’ve never abused a woman. I don’t care if she’s human . . . I don’t care if she’s part of the coven. Let it go, Anthony. Tell your human she can’t have everything she wants just because she’s mated to the vampire king . . . Trust me, she’s safer here. The coven is no place for a human, your mate notwithstanding . . . Goodbye then.”

Jane felt the tears stinging her eyes when Cole turned back around. He slammed the phone against the wall, and it shattered. “Fuck!”

She flinched, and he cursed again.

“Do you realize I almost got into a war over you? What the hell is wrong with me? Are you some kind of witch?”

Jane watched as he melted down in front of her. This wasn’t a good sign. He seemed to be talking more to himself than to her, so she stayed quiet and tried to blend into the background, a skill she’d perfected over the years. Except now pink hair and black leather didn’t blend.

Finally, she found the strength to speak. “Anthony wouldn’t pay you the money?”

Cole stopped pacing and braced himself against the wall facing her. “We didn’t discuss the money. The conversation got sidetracked. You heard it. I can’t believe I’m helping a vampire groupie.”

“Excuse me, but how are you helping me? You’re keeping me prisoner.”

“You’re safer with me than with them. Clearly.”

She decided to let that one go. So far he hadn’t hurt her. And although benefit of the doubt wasn’t the normal operating procedure with preternaturals, Gregory had been decent to her, and he’d swooped in to her rescue, too. He’d been good to her until his political aspirations had overshadowed his concerns with her safety.

“I’m not a vampire groupie. I hate vampires.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and sized her up. “Well, I’m sure you hate vampires now that they haven’t lived up to your romantic fantasies of them.” He pushed off the wall. “Come with me.”

She stayed in the chair, her face wary. “Where are we going?”

“To clean up your face.”

She followed him to the bathroom where he ran a warm damp cloth carefully over her cheek to clean the blood that had dried there. “We should have taken care of this first. It might still get infected,” he said. He placed one hand gently on her shoulder, while using the other to smooth ointment on her cheek.

She took in a sharp breath. He was so warm.

“I’m sorry, does it hurt?”

She blushed. “No. I’m fine.” What was she going to say? Keep touching me because I can’t remember what warm skin feels like on mine? Yeah, that’ll convince him I’m not a vampire groupie.

He cleaned off the bathroom counter, tossed the empty ointment tube into the trash can, and returned the first aid kit to the medicine cabinet. “When was the last time you ate?”

Jane shrugged. She couldn’t remember, but now that he brought it up, she was starving.

“Did they not feed you? Honestly. You can’t keep a human and drink their blood and not feed them. And you want me to let you go? Back to that? Back to Paul?”

She looked away. “I don’t want to go back with Paul, but I have no guarantee you’re safer. Werewolves are the bad guys.”

He sighed and led her to the kitchen. “No, vampires are the bad guys. They’re trying to force us into a police state here. Not that it’s just them. The last werecat tribe leader contributed as well. If it takes off in Cary Town, it’s only a matter of time until it spreads. Sit.” He indicated the chair.

She sat. “Well, I’m human, so you’re both bad guys.”

Cole nodded. “True enough. But I don’t allow my pack to hunt humans.” He took a couple of large steaks out of the fridge. “If you’re a vegetarian you’ll have to get over it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like red meat.”

“Tough. It has B-12 and iron. And you’ve been a vampire snack for how long?”

Jane looked away. “I was taking supplements.”

“Uh huh.” He seasoned the meat and put it on the grill. “Trust me, you’ll like this.”

Jane had her doubts about that, but he didn’t seem to be in meltdown mode, so why screw with a good thing?

Her gaze raked involuntarily over his body. He hadn’t yet had a chance to dress, and only a towel stood between her and the full monty. A black tribal tattoo snaked around one of his biceps, and she had the sudden urge to trace the design with her tongue.

She watched the muscles of his back bunch and relax as he busied himself with the food preparation. Occasionally a drop of water from his still-wet hair made a daring trail down his back, disappearing into the towel. Jane blushed, trying to remember the circumstances of their meeting and why she shouldn’t be having naughty wrong thoughts about him.

When he put the plate in front of her, she carefully cut off a piece of the meat and took a bite.

“This is actually really good.”

His mouth quirked on one side, revealing an unexpected dimple. “Told you. It’s all about the seasoning and not overcooking it until it’s shoe leather.”

He didn’t seem to be eating much himself. A sudden stray thought slid into her mind. Did he put something in my food? She berated herself silently for being so paranoid. Why would he need to? He had her locked up with no hope of escape, and it wasn’t like she could overpower him. Maybe he was drugging her so she wouldn’t kill him in his sleep.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, taking smaller bites.

“No, something’s wrong. Is it the food?”