Enslaved by the Others (29 page)

“Take care, Shiarra Waynest. I’ll remember the gift you’ve given me.”

And with that, she pulled away, stalking off at a rapid pace—too quickly for me to call out for her to stop and explain what she meant by that.

I put her weird behavior behind me and concentrated on more immediate problems. A slew of gray hairs were my reward for figuring out how to get a gaggle of hungry vampires, half a dozen bitchy magi, one grumpy necromancer, a stuck-up elf, a Were-cat with abandonment issues, and a pile of humans who thought they were being taken for the ride as in-flight snacks, to survive a three hundred-plus-mile road trip and then fit them all in one plane without incident.

The plane was cushy but far too cramped with so many people in it. I counted it a small miracle that the only problems along the way were a couple of fear-fueled fits from the humans, a brief shouting match between the elf and one of the vampires who was being a tad too attentive to him (read: his jugular), and Luke the Were-puma panic-shifting during takeoff. Oh, and learning the hard way that feeding a necromancer drive-thru fast food does nothing to improve his smell in close, inadequately ventilated quarters.

Seeing as no human
or
immortal bodily fluids stained the furniture or carpeting along the way, I figured that was our best-case scenario, and called it good.

A trio of limousines picked us up on the tarmac of a private airport on Long Island. Smaller and not nearly as crowded or as big of a pain in the ass to navigate as JFK or LaGuardia, I might have appreciated it more if I didn’t have a bunch of freaked out people begging me for info about where we were going and what was going to happen to them. Angus hadn’t made any mention of Royce’s plans, and the vampire had left me to ride with the other humans in the second limo.

It didn’t take us long to get where we were going. Once off the expressway, we followed a winding set of streets I had never traveled before. And no wonder. This looked like the kind of neighborhood Sara’s parents had considered their natural habitat when they weren’t strutting around Wall Street. The country clubs, sprawling properties, and large colonial-style homes peeking between the carefully placed lines of trees, walls, and security gates clued me in that we were somewhere near the North Shore.

Old money oozed from the very foundations of these properties. Though I had been suitably impressed by Royce’s offices, clubs, and the apartment building within spitting distance of Central Park, my move-along-before-you-get-the-veneer-dirty sense was tingling. Some of the buildings shared a distinct resemblance to, if not the acreage of, Max’s property back in Illinois. When we pulled into the driveway for our destination, I fought down an irrational sense of panic. It didn’t look
that
much like my former prison.

The place was much less austere than Max’s home. Strategically placed lampposts bordering the driveway drove back the dark and illuminated gorgeous landscaping. The ornamental spruce and holly trees gave the place a touch of warm green even though the maple, apple, and dogwood trees on some of the neighboring properties were nothing but bare, skeletal branches clawing at the star-studded sky. The grand, sweeping manor was nowhere near comparable in size to the prison I had left behind. This place was maybe ten to twelve bedrooms, judging from the outside.

By the time the limos reached the island walkway at the top of the circular drive, Royce, Mouse, Clarisse, and Wesley were waiting under the columned gable sheltering the front porch.

I wasn’t sure who said it, but someone whispered a few words that did a great job at spreading panic all over again. “We’re gonna die.”

“No, you’re not,” I said, harsh enough that the frantic whispers quieted. “Relax, you’re in safe hands now. Royce will make sure you all get home in one piece.”

They didn’t argue, but I could see the disbelief written across a few faces. Shaking my head, I didn’t wait for the driver to come around, scooting over to open the door myself and step out. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of air thick with wood smoke and just a touch of saltwater drifting in from the Long Island Sound. Tension I hadn’t noticed until it was gone dissipated with the familiar scents of home.

I didn’t have to see to know Royce was approaching. The feel of him, his desire and concern, washed over me in the same way as Max’s need to control me. It felt foreign, and maybe a little disconcerting, to have someone else’s tender emotions in my headspace, but not entirely unwelcome.

When I opened my eyes again, he was inches away, studying me—not reaching out just yet. To see him there, that black, all-encompassing hunger burning in his eyes, sent a roil of terror so sharply through my midsection that I couldn’t breathe around it. Even when his features softened with concern, I was so buried under a wave of panic that when he did touch me, reaching up to brush chill fingertips over my cheek, I almost passed out.

“Oh, my little hunter,” he breathed, “I am so sorry.”

“Little late for that, don’t you think?”

My voice might have come out as an undignified squeak, but he got the hint. I felt the remorse he radiated far more clearly than I could see it reflected in the tightening around his eyes or the frown etching little lines around his mouth. He held out his arms in invitation, and this time I didn’t hesitate. It took more effort than I wanted to think about to keep from bursting into tears as I leaned into his embrace. Closing my eyes tight, I buried my fingers in the silky fabric of his shirt and released a shuddering breath.

For the first time in a long time, I felt safe.

He tilted his head to rest his cheek against my temple, nose buried in my hair, breathing in the scent of me. Then withdrew a fraction. It was either the smell of Gideon or from being stuck in the car and then the plane for hours that did it, I was sure.

Embarrassed, I pulled away, clearing my throat and waving my hand at the people coming out of the limo behind me and huddling in a nervous clump together. “They’re going to need help getting home.”

With a little growl, he tugged me back into him, wrapping his arms around me as he examined the others from over my shoulder. I relaxed into him, trying not to be so fidgety and self-conscious.

“Yes, so Angus told me. I’ll take care of it. We have much to discuss—Athena will be coming to meet you once she settles Max’s affairs in Chicago. Somehow she found out about your involvement, and she’s very curious about the human who felled her eldest progeny. Which reminds me, where is the necromancer?”

“He’s over here.”

Gideon was eyeing Royce with distrust, standing on his own while the magi were a couple yards away in a pointedly separate group over by the last limo. Even in ill-fitting sweats and cheap sneakers, and his neck covered in a red-spotted bandage, he managed to radiate a dangerous combination of power and confidence. It was in the set of his shoulders, the way he held himself, the intensity of his gaze.

I tilted my head up to see what Royce thought of him, but he’d schooled his features into a neutral expression. The only hint I had to his displeasure was the glimmer of red building in his eyes.

“Gideon. Breaker of the Accord.” The necromancer’s expression shifted to uneasiness, and he took a half step back as Royce continued. “Not to worry. I know your motivations for turning on Euphron and what you have done to assist Shiarra to return to me. You are welcome here. However,” he continued, his voice taking on a dangerous edge that had me squirming in remembered fear, “if I find you making any attempt at the same actions in my home, against my people, I will have the magi bind you.”

“I’ll do it myself, if you’ll let me,” Arnold said.

He and Sara came over to us, his arm around her waist and hers over his shoulder. Her color was better, but she was still leaning on him in a way that told me she wasn’t at her best. She gave me a quick, tight smile. Knowing she wasn’t still pissed at me filled me with relief and made it easier to relax.

Gideon bowed his head, extending his tattooed hand palm up in a strangely subservient gesture. “Master of New York, I wouldn’t presume to offer you or yours any harm. If you will accept my fealty, I will serve you in the same capacity as I did the Master of San Francisco.”

Arnold snorted in disbelief. Royce smiled, a predatory grin that showed off his fangs and made Gideon flinch.

“Really, now. And what are you expecting in return?”

Gideon lowered his head just a bit more. “Protection. I know my actions went against the Accord, but it was to save my own life, and I’d do it again in a hot minute. If you can guarantee me safety, I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Does that include submitting to a blood bond and releasing Ms. Halloway as your familiar?”

Royce’s grip tightened on me as I jerked in his arms, surprised. He kept his gaze locked on Gideon, who grimaced but nodded. “As you wish. Will your blood break the bond to Fabian?”

“Perhaps. How many times have you tasted his blood?”

“Once.”

“Then yes,” Royce replied. “We’ll do a permanent bond. I’ll discuss this with you in greater detail once I have the others settled.” He turned his attention to Arnold, extending a hand. The mage hesitated but accepted the handshake. “Mr. Moore. My thanks for your assistance. My driver will return you and the other members of your coven to your homes. I’ll be in touch about resolving Ms. Halloway’s ... condition tomorrow evening.”

Arnold’s eyes narrowed. “My pleasure. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

Sara huffed, tightening her grip on Arnold. “
We’ll
be waiting. I’m not staying here.”

“As you wish,” Royce said, giving Gideon a warning look when it appeared the necromancer was about to object. Gideon’s mouth snapped shut and he looked away, unhappy but not about to argue.

Arnold and Sara both waved good-bye to me as they returned to the limo, gesturing the other magi inside. Much as I had hoped they would have stayed here with us for the night, I couldn’t blame them for wanting to get the hell away from Royce. Magi and vampires didn’t get along at the best of times, and Arnold and Sara deserved some time to reconnect and be alone together.

Royce gestured for the vampires to round everyone up and take them inside. I watched him from under my lashes as he led the way, me at his side, into his home.

Only once we were inside did I start looking around. This place was far more in keeping with the kind of old money I had assumed Royce and the other vampires who answered to him would have to throw around. It didn’t feel the same as the apartment building: a little too posh, a little too unlived in, a few too many gilded edges. On the inside, it was more like Fabian’s home than I wanted to consider. Like it was more for show, a place to flaunt his wealth and impress other people with wads of cash to blow on homes too big for any one family to need.

Royce must have sensed my discomfort. He leaned in to whisper to me, his lips brushing over my ear in a way that sent a delicious shiver down my spine. “I hate this place, but it’s the biggest residential property I have within commuting distance to the city that hasn’t been burned to the foundations. I promise you’ll find our bed more than adequate and far more comfortable. Think you can tolerate it until I purchase and renovate a new apartment building in Manhattan?”

Our
bed. He was talking like he expected me to live here. Or wherever. With him. The thought simultaneously filled me with dread and desire.

Well. Maybe more desire than anything else when he gave me that look. Mouth dry, I nodded, hoping whatever business he needed to wrap up before he could show me that bed wouldn’t take long.

Chapter Thirty

We went to a large room with a few couches and chairs, but not nearly enough seats for everyone. Royce set me in one of the chairs to one side, away from the bulk of the crowd but close enough that he could keep an eye on me. At one point, Analie rushed in, ignoring Royce’s look of warning. She shoved a small plate of sugar cookies into my hand, bouncing up and down anxiously on her heels.

“Did you see Gavin? What about Jo-Jo? Did they like the cookies?”

The teenaged werewolf didn’t look like much with her mousy brown hair and gawky frame still not quite grown into itself, but the feral glow to her eyes and the strength of her hand on my arm were all the reminder I needed of her Other side. Gritting my teeth so as not to startle her or scare her off with a cry of pain, I set the plate aside and tugged her fingers until she got the hint and loosened her grip. Once the pressure let up, it was a lot easier to give her a warm, comforting smile.

“They both liked the cookies. Gavin sends his love and Jo-Jo misses you every day.” I paused, giving her a moment to collect herself as tears built in her eyes. Poor kid. So far from her friends and family, a semi-willing “guest” of the vampires, she must have been frantic for news of her pack. Even knowing she could turn into a monstrously huge werewolf—one of the Goliath pack, who more than lived up to their name—I couldn’t resist giving her the hug she so obviously needed. She managed to keep herself together and not crush me, though, pressed so close, I could feel her suppressed sobs.

She pulled back soon enough, swiping the building moisture from her eyes with the back of a hand. Sniffling, she gave me a watery smile. “Thank you. Thank you so much. They mean the world to me.”

I nodded, then grimaced. “Analie, I’m so sorry—they both wrote you letters, but after what happened back there—”

Her face fell, the tragedy written there breaking my heart. I grabbed her hand to give it a squeeze, not surprised to feel a bit of fur under my fingers as the stress was getting the better of her. Royce was making his way over, his intent to boot Analie out written all over his face. I tugged her arm to get her going, speaking in a rush.

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Royce. We’ll figure out a way for you to get in touch with them. Go on, we’ll powwow on it tomorrow.”

Her smile wasn’t quite so forced this time. With a determined nod, she bolted, zigzagging through the crowd and disappearing through the door.