Marina's Awakening (Seduced By Shadows Book 2)

Chapter One

Waking up in a hotel room with the taste of blood still lingering on my tongue—just another Tuesday. What I”m not used to is waking up on the floor of a hotel room with no idea how I got there. I glance around, blinking hard, trying to dispel the cobwebs from my brain. There”s an unfamiliar suitcase lying on one of the double beds. A quick scan tells me the door to the adjoining room has been left wide open. As my eyes sweep back over the space, I see my clothes scattered across the floor.

”Shit,” I whisper under my breath as I stand. My muscles feel like rubber, and it”s a struggle to stay upright. Every bone in my body feels bruised, and I don”t know why. Taking a cautious step forward, I stumble again. Pain shoots through my stomach when I put pressure on my foot.

I sit down heavily on the nearest chair, wondering if I should call 9-1-1. Instead, I just close my eyes and try to think rationally. The last thing I remember is being in Venice. It”s a wonderful city, with gondola rides, coffee, and gelato—my favorite combination. Then there was that annoying man who tried to chat me up at dinner. I smile weakly at the memory; his jaw nearly hit the ground when I told him no thanks in perfect Italian.

The curtains are drawn over the window, blocking out all light from the morning sun. My toes curl around the fibers of the scratchy carpet under my feet as I contemplate checking out the window to get an idea of where I am. Stains cover most of the furniture, and the bedspreads are frayed at the edges. This place looks like it should stink to high heaven, but I don”t smell any mildew. Actually, I can”t smell anything at all. And when I bring my hand up to touch my face, I see blood crusted along one side of my fingers.

I reach behind my back and pull out the hair tie that kept my long black hair in a ponytail. One quick glance confirms what I already suspected: my hair is caked with blood, as is the rest of me. Slipping on the discarded robe from the bed next to me, I stumble into the bathroom to clean myself up.

The mirror is filthy, but I can make out enough detail to see what a mess I am. I have three thin slashes across my right shoulder—two horizontal lines and one diagonal slash running down my collarbone—and they”re deep. Dark bruises cover both my forearms and knees. I peel my lips back, expecting to see my fangs poking out of my gums, but there”s nothing. My reflection shows none of the usual signs: black eyes with red-stained sclera, pale skin, and pointed teeth. My face is completely human, despite the three bloody gashes. No evidence I”m a vampire at all. My tongue brushes against my teeth. They”re dull and blunt, no sign of the tipped canines that should be there. I put my hands to my throat, rubbing the spot where the scar should be from the day I was turned. Nothing.

What the hell happened to me? And how did I get here?

After I splash some water in my face, I summon the bravery to look out the window. Outside, people hurry down a city street under a bright blue sky. Bright sunshine doesn”t hurt vampires as long as we don”t stay out too long or are in direct sunlight, but at the very least it should tingle if not burn a little bit, but there”s no reaction. Judging by the architecture, I”m not in Venice anymore. There”s a water tower on top of the building across the street and what looks like an office complex to my right. The sidewalk is full of pedestrians with backpacks and coffee cups. I have no idea where I am.

My jeans are on the floor next to the bed, so I slip them on along with my black and white Queen t-shirt before crossing back over to the window. No one seems to notice me as I stand in front of it, peering outside, but I still feel exposed. I haven”t been human in over a decade. My vampire senses were honed and controlled while living among others of my kind, but now they feel dull—unresponsive. All I hear are muffled sounds and voices, barely registering over the low hum in my head. I”m covered in blood, yet I have no taste for it. These marks on my skin should be healing by now. None of this makes any sense.

My clan is in Chicago, but who knows how far away that is from wherever I am. I can”t call Drake or Lola, the king and queen of vampires, to ask for help either. I have no idea where my cell phone is, and like most people of this era, I don”t know anyone”s phone number. My purse and wallet are missing too, along with everything else I had on me when I went out last night.

With shaky hands, I reach for the hotel notepad and pen on the bedside table. As I scribble down a few disjointed thoughts and observations, I try to piece together the fragmented puzzle of my current situation. Each attempt to connect the dots only leaves me more confused than before. By the time I get done, I”ve managed to come up with a single fact: something happened last night that changed me back into a human again. But why? How?

The sound of a door slamming shut from the adjoining room jolts me out of my contemplation. The door between us is wide open. My heart rate spikes, and instinct takes over. I move swiftly, slipping into the shadows near the doorway, my senses straining to catch any sign of danger. The adrenaline coursing through my veins is a familiar sensation, but the way my body responds is not. My movements lack the fluidity and grace I once possessed as a vampire. Instead, I feel clumsy and awkward.

A few moments pass, and I hear hushed voices coming from the other room. The tone is low, almost conspiratorial. I strain to make out the words, but they remain just out of reach, like whispers carried away by the wind. Slowly, I edge closer, my curiosity outweighing my apprehension. Peering around the corner, I catch a glimpse of a man wearing dark slacks and a black dress shirt with the top button undone. His hair is black and slightly unruly, falling in disarray over his forehead.

Something about this guy strikes me as familiar, although I”ve never seen him before—at least not that I can remember. It feels like an eternity before he notices me standing there, and when he finally does, something in me screams to run away.

”Good morning,” he says. There”s a tinge of accent in it that I don”t recognize. ”Remember me, sunshine?”

His gaze travels down to where I hold one of my arms around my stomach and then back up again. When our eyes meet, he smiles, flashing bright white teeth. I almost take an involuntary step backward. Something tells me he has something to do with all of this.

I shake my head in response. I want to say no, but the words stick in my throat.

”Are you sure? That doesn”t look too good.” He indicates my wound. His tone is playful, like we”re sharing a joke. My skin prickles at the sound of his voice, but I can”t explain why. ”If memory serves me correctly, we should have some first-aid stuff in here somewhere...”

He turns toward his suitcase to search for the items he needs, but something on my face must alert him to the fact that I don”t trust him because he pauses and looks at me again, studying my features. The way he regards me makes me uncomfortable, like a wild animal that he wants to catch with just his eyes. There”s a predatory edge to his movements, so much so that I step away from the doorway and sidestep to the door leading outside. I have no idea what this man is or what he plans on doing with me, but I want nothing to do with it.

I grab the knob, ready to fling myself out onto the street, but he”s faster than me. He grabs my arm, pinning me back against the wall in one swift movement. My heart nearly explodes from my chest as he cages me in against the wood paneling, keeping me trapped inside the hotel room with him. His gaze darts between the two doors—the one behind me and the one leading out into the hallway.

”I don”t think you should be going anywhere, Marina. Not until we get a few rules straight,” he says in that same light tone. ”We need to come up with some ground rules first. Don”t you agree?”

I”m not going to bother trying to figure out what he”s referring to. Instead, I drive my knee up into his groin, hard. He makes a pained sound and doubles over, releasing his hold on me. I waste no time before hurling myself past him through the doorway and outside onto the busy street. My bare feet smack against the pavement as I start to run. I glance back over my shoulder every few seconds, expecting to see him right behind me. I”m not paying any attention when I dart out onto the crosswalk without looking. I nearly run into an older man on a bicycle who looks like he might have been riding down a hill or something. He barely swerves out of my way in time. The brakes squeal as he comes to a sudden halt.

A horn blares somewhere in front of me, but I don”t even look up to see if someone is coming until it”s too late. There”s an ear-splitting screech of metal grinding against metal. My body is thrown backward onto the street with so much force that the impact knocks the wind from my lungs. When I try to sit up, I feel a dull pain in the center of my back. The world around me sways and blurs. Then I collapse again, lying still as glass shatters nearby.

Just as everything fades to black, strong arms wrap around me, pulling me back from the brink. I feel myself being lifted off my feet, the chaotic sounds of the city muffled and distant. And then, as if from a great distance, I hear a voice—a voice that seems to cut through the fog clouding my mind.

”I got you. Just stay with me.”

What a funny thing to say. I mean, really, where am I going to go? I can”t even hold my own head up, much less walk by myself. If anything, it feels like my entire body is dissolving into dust. All I want to do is rest—to sleep—forever. I would beg for someone to put me out of my misery if I could only summon the strength.

My cheek brushes against something soft. It feels familiar and comforting—like home. As if sensing my thoughts, the voice whispers again.

”I”m going to get you somewhere safe, okay?”

It”s not the same voice as the man in that hotel room. This one sounds softer and kinder, gentler somehow.

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. Instead, a dry sob escapes my throat, and suddenly I”m crying. Then there”s another voice—a woman”s this time—asking if I”m hurt, what happened, if I”m okay. I don”t know if I am, so I just shake my head. I”ve never felt worse in my life. If I was still a vampire, I could heal from all of this easily, but I can barely move my limbs. My brain feels like it”s stuffed with cotton balls. It takes me too long to process that I”m being lifted up and carried somewhere, and the gentle rocking motion puts me back to sleep.