Undying Embrace (12 page)

He snatched her hand with his and drew her to him. Her tawny-colored eyes glowed with determination…and something else simmered just beneath the surface. And it made his blood hot. “This is too dangerous. You will
not
be coming with me.”

“Arran MacLain, you don’t own me,” she spat, looking like she was about to take a bite out of his ass. He didn’t know whether to kiss her or leash her. Truth be told, he’d always been fond of the latter fantasy, and he’d do what he had to in order to keep her out of that club tonight.

“Break it up, you two.” Guerin stepped between them, pushing them apart. “You can have your lovers’ quarrel some other time.”

“We’re not lovers,” Arran and Gabrielle snapped in chorus.

Guerin ping-ponged a glance between them, then shrugged. “Whatever you say. What we need to be doing right now is deciding our plan for tonight.” He stepped in front of Arran. “And before you say another word, I think Elle needs to be with us.”

“What? Guerin, I—”

“Listen,” Guerin interjected and cut him off. “Her sister is missing. She doesn’t have to be inside the club, but we’re all going to need to be wired tonight, and that includes her. She’s our expert with the technology. And if anything comes up about her sister, Elle should be there.”

Arran’s right hand curled into a tight fist.
Damn.
He didn’t like this, didn’t want her anywhere near Markus and his minions. And no doubt, Markus would be there. He wouldn’t be able to resist. But he wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t show up by himself.

“She won’t be alone, Arran,” Emily stated, and Kenric’s head snapped in his mate’s direction, a look of surprise and frustration on his face. “She’ll be with us,” she added. “You know how we feel about her. She’s Enclave, not to mention she’s my friend.” Emily looked from one warrior to the other, then to Gabrielle. “And we protect what’s ours.”

Arran didn’t miss the expression of pride blooming across the Master’s face. In his head, he knew everyone in the room would lay down their life to protect Gabrielle. But unease simmered at a low boil inside his stomach. He would be in the club while she waited outside…without him. The unyielding glare coming off Gabrielle declared he’d better learn to like it. He shook his head. The woman was going to drive him insane.

“Fine. Let’s do this.”

“Good,” Guerin said. “One more thing.” Arran cocked his head in Guerin’s direction. “What’s up with the black shit in your hair?” His face screwed up as if he’d smelled something bad. “And all that crazy shit around your eyes? You look like the fucking son of Dracula.”

“Fuck you.” Arran flipped him the middle finger. The rest of the room erupted in laughter.

Gabrielle grabbed Guerin by the arm, heading further into the room with the rest of the Enclave. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll fill you in on the scene at Wicked Ways.”

Chapter Ten

It had to be Arran MacLain. No one else would dare send a message demanding Markus’s presence in such a manner. And the message had said it came from a friend. Only one male had ever held anything resembling that role: Arran.

Markus materialized, with Alexandria at his side, outside the back entrance of Wicked Ways. Seconds later, two additional vampire minions phased in behind them. Two others were already in position at the door, having scouted the area for threats prior to their arrival. Markus reached over and took Alexandria by the hand. Despite her recent feed, her palm still felt cool, an unfortunate side effect of his deep control over her mind. His constant dampening presence over her free will slowed her metabolism, making even her circulation sluggish.

The minion opened the door to the club, and they glided toward the pulsation of the music and the red glow of the interior lights. It was dangerous having Alexandria here, knowing that Arran more than likely waited to remove his head. But it was even more dangerous to leave her behind and unprotected from the whims of Marguerite and Enrique. Besides, Arran was too damn moral to kill an innocent female. Especially one he would immediately be able to detect was under Markus’s mental control.

Enrique… He shuddered at the memory of the few hours they’d spent together. Markus despised being forced to fuck anyone. Especially when they weren’t his type. And Enrique
wasn’t
his type. But it had been necessary. His gaze caressed the woman beside him. She was his type. But she was untouchable.

Even though his control had taken away her fire, Markus could still feel the occasional rebellion inside her mind. He smiled. She never gave up.

He’d found a red leather strapless dress for her to wear tonight. With the blue-black shimmer of her hair swaying at the curve of her ass and the fishnet hose hugging her long legs, Alexandria was a walking red flag to his brain. When she moved in the tight little number, his dick was a bull ready to charge.

With his hand pressed firmly to Alexandria’s back, he led her through the back hall, past the restrooms, and into the club. They pushed through a sea of black-and-red clad bodies drowning their minds in alcohol and burning out their brain cells on lines of white powder. Music thumped in his chest. Marilyn Manson’s “If I Was Your Vampire” wailed over the sound system, and the lyrics pierced his eardrums. He wanted to chuckle at the naïveté of the human race. Pulling up to the bar, he motioned for Alexandria to take one of the stools. She pushed up onto the seat, her gaze never straying from his face. He reached over and stroked her cheek. She didn’t respond, didn’t blink. He wished he could touch her without the control of his mind, and she would look at him with something more than the blank stare she gave him now. He sighed and pulled himself away from her empty expression.

The bartender who’d delivered the last two messages approached him. Markus leaned into the bar. “Have you seen the man who sent the message?”

“I only know of his description, according to Jean-Claude. And I haven’t seen anyone that matches it yet.”

Stepping back from the bar, Markus grumbled.
Shit
. He scanned the room, making eye contact with the four minions who’d spread out amongst the crowd. Each one gave a negative shake of his head. None of them had noticed a damn thing either.

This was either going to be the dumbest thing he’d ever done, coming out with only a handful of backup, or the most satisfying as he put an end to Arran and the Enclave’s endless hunt for his blood. He knew MacLain, though, and had a feeling the message had been from him alone. His former partner was like Markus; he enjoyed the solitary hunt. Markus was gambling with his life, but in his gut, he was confident Arran wanted to take him out personally.

And Markus wanted his chance to do the same.

Without Marguerite.

…

The moon lit the street behind Wicked Ways in a silvery glow. It laid an almost ethereal line of demarcation between the street and the back lot leading to the club. Elle sat in the front seat of Kenric’s black Cheyenne SUV, waiting like the good girl she’d been asked to be.
This sucked.

She needed to be inside. What if her sister appeared and she was stuck out here, her only connection to the inside being the stupid device jammed in her ear? How was she supposed to know if her sister walked in? She’d given Arran Alex’s photo, but hell, she could have changed her appearance just like they’d previously done. He wouldn’t recognize Alex as easily as she could. The wait was driving her crazy.

The comm device crackled, and she glanced over at Kenric in the driver’s seat. Logan and Guerin were outside, lurking in the shadows around the club while she, Kenric, and Emily kept up a command post in the vehicle.

“He’s here,” Arran’s deep voice whispered into her ear. The tension inside the cab of the SUV swelled into a hurricane force of anticipation. The Master’s gloved hands tightened around the steering wheel. In Elle’s peripheral vision, his mate eased forward from the backseat, glancing between them.

“Roger,” Elle breathed into the receiver. “Is he alone?”

“Negative,” Arran replied. “I count four vampires reporting to Markus. No sign of Marguerite. But there is a woman with him.” Elle’s heart turned over in her chest, and a wave of nausea swamped her. The question stuck in her throat, but she had to know.
Please, God
… She didn’t know how to finish that line. Did she pray, let it be her, or please not be her?

“What does she look like? Can you see her well enough to describe her to me? Does she match the photo?”

For several seconds there was no reply. “Arran, can you read me?” Elle looked to Kenric.

“Give him a minute,” Emily said and rested a hand on her shoulder. The line crackled again.

“The woman is about five feet five, long black hair. Petite. Similar to the photo.”

Oh God. Her fingers curled, tightening. It was Alex. It had to be. She had to get her out of there. Elle lunged for the door handle. Suddenly, Kenric’s arms were on her shoulders, and he yanked her back.

“You can’t go in there,” he commanded, his voice hard at her ear.

“The hell I can’t. That’s my sister.” She swallowed the sob that wanted to follow on the heels of her words.

“And if you want her to stay alive, you’ll stay the hell out of there.” His hand slipped from her shoulders, and she screwed her eyelids shut. Her chest hurt. Alex was a few hundred yards away. What if she was hurt, scared, and hoping that Elle would come for her? If there was a sliver of a chance she could get Alex out of there tonight, she had to take it.

Static in her ear signaled another communication. “Kenric, this…Logan. My…piece…functioning…it.” Most of his words were missing, but Elle got the message. His comm device needed swapping out. Perfect.

“I’ll take this,” she said to Kenric, who watched her like a parent with a rebellious child. She sighed. “I’ll be at the back of the vehicle. He needs his comm unit replaced.” He lifted his chin in acknowledgement. “Pop the trunk’s latch.”

Kenric nodded and reached for the lever. “Replace his unit, then haul your ass back here.”

She added a sharp salute at her temple. “Yes, sir.” Kenric rolled his eyes, then went back on the comm with Guerin.

Logan was already waiting for her as she rounded the back of the SUV. “How are you doing? I couldn’t make out most of the conversation between Arran and you, but does the woman sound like your sister?”

She shrugged. “The description was so vague, it’s hard to know for sure.” Elle dug her hand inside the bag in the trunk, keeping her gaze averted while she searched for another comm unit. She was a terrible liar. And she’d never keep her face straight if she looked him in the eye.

“I see,” he muttered behind her. With a new device in hand, she popped in a fresh battery and swapped his old one out. After a quick test, he leaned in for her ears only. “Don’t do whatever it is you’re thinking. Be smart, lass.” Logan brushed her cheek with his lips, and then he was gone. Her fingertips glided over the ghostly tingle left behind on her cheek. An uneasiness twisted inside her. It was a crazy idea, but she was going to lose her mind if she didn’t find out for sure.

Elle glanced through the vehicle. Kenric was focused on his conversation with Guerin and Emily. They were plotting the best possible scenario to take out Markus’s men. Good. She repositioned the bag in the trunk. Now was her only shot. Leaving the hatch open, she crept to the side of the SUV, darted across the street, and then between a row of hedges. Through the warriors’ communication, she knew each one’s position and avoided them like land mines.

Moving as fast as her human legs could carry her, she ran to the front of the club. She only had seconds before Kenric would notice she was gone. The door to the club had barely closed behind her when a curse nearly singed her ear. “Gabrielle Stevens, I swear when your ass comes out of that club, it’s mine.”

“You won’t have to worry about that, Kenric,” Arran’s deep voice rumbled in her ear. “Because when I find her, she’ll wish she’d stayed with you.” The thick brogue that rolled off Arran’s tongue sent a shiver down her spine. For more reasons than one. He was pissed. And he was coming for her. She wasn’t sure if her chills were from anxiety or excitement.

It wasn’t easy, trying to stay lost in a crowd and manage to see where you’re going at the same time. But that was the only way she was going to be able to maneuver through the club unseen by Markus and Arran. She stayed close to the flow of bodies around the bar, making her way to the opposite side of the room and to a cluster of tables and booths. The last comm had stated Markus and his guest had settled at a booth against the back wall facing the dance floor. Arran would be watching and waiting for her, knowing that would be her target. She just needed one glimpse. That’s all. To know for sure if her sister was still alive.

The club was packed. It was difficult to tell where the dance began and where it ended. The crowd swayed to and chanted along with Marilyn Manson and his lyrics about bloodstained sheets. They seemed almost enchanted by the message within the song, as if they were part of the choir that prayed at his altar. Oh God, she had to get her sister out of here.

Finally, she reached the other side of the bar. When the crowd parted for a split second, revealing the hallway leading toward the back entrance, she made a break for it. So far, so good.

The wall provided the cover she needed to peer around and check out the patrons seated at this end of the club. With the strobe lights and the red glow of the lamps, she could barely see the shadowed angles of the people huddled inside the booths. But there was no mistaking one profile: Markus. A woman with long, straight, dark hair sat with her back to Elle.
Please turn around
. As if the woman had heard her plea, she rose and stood before Markus. She smoothed the sides of her red mini dress as she stood before him, then began to rock her hips, dancing for him. The woman arched her back and slid her hands under her long hair, and then allowed it to fall like cascading black water down her back. She turned, and for the first time, the face of the dancer was revealed.

“No.” She shook her head in sharp denial.

Her body trembled.
Please, no
. She was going to be sick.

“Alex,” she whispered. Without thinking, she stepped forward into the crowd.

A large hand came from out of nowhere and clamped hard across her mouth. Her feet left the floor, and she flew backward. Down the hall. Her heart lurched into her throat. A door banged, and she caught a glimpse of a urinal as her captor spun her around. The men’s bathroom? Her rear slammed against the backside of the door, and Arran’s face appeared about an inch from hers.

“My God, Gabrielle, do you have a death wish?” His breath was hot and spicy against her face, his body hard against hers. “Or wish to see me dead?”

“What? No!” She had to give her head a quick rattle to focus on his words. “Of course I don’t want to see you dead. What are you saying?”

“You almost walked in front of Markus. And if he had seen you, he would have tried to have you killed. But they would have had to come through me first.” He reached up, lifted her chin with his fingers, and ran his thumb gently across her lower lip. “Don’t do anything like that again.”

The trembles that had started in the hall ramped into high gear under his touch. Her lip quivered, and her eyelids closed. The image of her sister, dancing in red leather for Markus, blazed to the front of her mind.

“It’s her.” Her eyes shot open. “The woman with Markus is Alexandria.”

Arran pulled his hand away and rocked back. “Are you absolutely sure?”

She nodded. “I know my sister when I see her.”

“Fuck!”

“We have to get her out of here, before you kill Markus. And I want him hurt for what he’s done to her,” she rumbled. “Did you see what he was forcing her to do out there?”

“It’s not going to be that easy.” Arran ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back. He tilted his head, giving her a look that made her stomach churn. She wasn’t going to like this.

“Spit it out, MacLain. What the hell are you not telling me?”

Reaching behind her, he locked the door, then straightened. He looked like a man who wished he could pay someone else to deliver his news. “God, Arran, just tell me. How bad can it be?” She shrugged. “My sister is alive.”

“Not really, kitten. I’m sorry”—he grasped both sides of her head and speared her soul with his words—
“
she’s not the sister you remember anymore. She’s a vampire.”

This wasn’t happening. She’d found her. Alex wasn’t dead. No fucking way was she a vampire. Elle was shaking her head, but Arran was holding her, stilling her movements. She wanted her sister back. The one she remembered. Her heart ached so damn bad. A sob escaped from her throat, and her vision clouded. She blinked away her tears, but they kept coming, rolling down her face. The callous pads of his fingertips brushed her cheeks as if they were trying to catch each one. “I’m going to kill him.” Elle didn’t even recognize the vicious tone in her voice. But she meant every word. “Do you hear me? I will kill him for what he’s done to her.”