Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
Elliot
Idon’t know how long I’ve been locked up. The collar around my neck burns. The lack of fresh blood direct from the source tortures. The mindless rages drain me.
And though it all, I cling to one thing.
I fucking hate Lucian Vale for doing this to me.
My stomach hurts, an ache that gnaws at me, and I try to ignore the hunger that wants to consume and claim me as its own.
I could easily sink down—and there’s a part of me that wants that.
But the other side beckons, too. Control. Using my hate and anger and lust for blood.
I close my eyes for a moment. A part of me wants to cling to Lucian, but he’s no longer the man I fell for in my head. The god-like creature who I thought could feel something for me. Everything has shifted.
I’ve been claimed. Owned.
Turned.
Against my will.
And he’s my master. In every true sense of the word.
He controls me.
So if he touches me now, will he be the one making my heartbeat skip because he’s manipulating me?
Am I just a thing he can control like a finely tuned instrument?
If he wants to fuck me again, is my response something that’s now tailored to his urges and needs? And if I like it, is that because I do, or because he silently dictates it?
Even worse, was he doing that to me before he claimed my life as his?
I don’t know. That’s the thing, I don’t fucking know.
The panic is like a flock of birds, rising up, threatening to choke me. But I try to get it in control. I believe Lucian when he says the power of his blood can overwhelm me. I just can’t let it.
“I can control it,” I whisper, pushing up from the ground. “I’m still me.”
There’s nothing to be scared of, apart from the sun and wooden stakes.
Garlic?
But Lucian’s not worried about the sun. He keeps away from it when he can, and we’ve been out during the daylight hours. So maybe…
I eye the door. I don’t know how long I’ve been in here. Long enough that I slept at some point and someone put what looks like protein bars on the floor.
My stomach doesn’t growl, but it’s like a wild animal that paces inside me, looking to take over, wanting to pounce. I cross and pick up one of the bars.
It’s a brand I’ve never seen.
VMR X Protein. There’s no picture or exciting graphics, just red letters on a black foil wrap. I turn it over. No ingredient list. Obviously proprietary.
How rich is he?
It’s a stupid question.
Lucian Vale has had lifetimes to grow rich by anyone’s means. He’s ruthless enough to get richer by more nefarious means as well, and smart enough to turn all that into something which would make millionaires cry.
He’s built the perfect vessel for a soft takeover of America and a lot of the world. The mecca of media.
VMR.
And pre-dying, pre-being reborn, I could have blown it all open and destroyed him in an exposé for the ages.
Now…
Now I can’t do that.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply. Not can’t. Just can’t yet. There is a difference.
I curl my hand around the protein bar and squeeze. It compacts and pushes through the packaging at either end.
The stench of the bar hits me hard. It’s the smell of old blood. Vile. I throw it against the wall, but the stench still stings.
My insides contract.
I open my eyes and look down. The bar doesn’t smell. I do.
My clothes are soaked and stained with the dried rust-brown of blood, and beneath that is something else. I slowly lift my shirt and gag.
There’s a hole in me. A bullet hole. Right in the center of my chest.
I stick my finger inside. It’s squidgy, sticky, wet.
Is how I died going to be with me forever?
Another surge of hunger hits, and I finally make myself go to the protein bars. I devour three without tasting them, then I gobble down four more, my mind balancing out and the ravenous beast within subsiding.
When I finally settle, I slowly eat the last one. I’m full but I eat it anyway, and then I lower myself to the floor, my back against the wall.
I can’t help it. I raise my top again, frowning.
The wound doesn’t smell so bad now and it seems smaller somehow.
I don’t get how my body can repair itself like this when I’m essentially dead. Lucian certainly doesn’t come across as dead. He doesn’t fall apart like a zombie. And when he turns into a fanged beast, he looks like himself, just…
Scarier.
Darker.
Like a predator.
But still himself.
If ever there was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, it’s him.
I lean my head back against the wall.
Kayla…
My friend’s name drifts through my head, and it anchors me.
I came here to find her, or at least find out what happened, and now… I sit up straight.
Now I can.
There’s a part that still holds out hope she’s alive, and I wish with all I am that it’s true. Because if she is, I’ll save her, send her far away where they can never find her, before I burn this place to the ground.
And if she’s dead…
I shake the thought out of my head. It brings another wave of unshakeable anger and lust for blood, and I don’t want that right now.
Just the possibility of finding her is enough to give me strength.
It’s enough to tame the beast.
The door opens, and a dark shape appears, which is both a relief and foreboding in this room of white.
Lucian’s dressed in black trousers, black shirt, and black vest, the manifestation of a living shadow. His hair’s swept back like a worried hand has passed through it, but that face of his still makes me crazy within.
My entire body sings. His very presence shoots pure electricity through me. And everywhere his ropes touched me at the club buzzes in my memory.
“Tell me,” I ask, barely able to stop myself from spitting the words. “Is this one of your control games?”
He looks at me dispassionately, and there are two of those damn bars in his hand, like they’re mocking me. Like he’s mocking me. Even though I just ate, I curse how my mouth waters at the sight of them.
I’m not his fucking pet.
“A game?” he asks.
I narrow my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
He crouches in front of me. “Enlighten me. Please.”
“Are you controlling me right now? With your power?”
His gaze shifts over me. “That’s not how it works.”
“Then how does it work?”
“Eat,” he says, handing the bars to me.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m full.”
“You feel full because you ate the most potent of our bars. Eat these. You’re still hungry. The black bars are the closest to feeding. These are what we have for snacks and emergencies.”
Glancing at them, I notice these protein bars are wrapped in red with black writing instead. I eye him suspiciously.
“They’re not poison, Monty. You wanted me to feed you. Eat.”
Bitterness rises like bile, but I swallow it down.
“Where’s my friend?” I ask for what feels like the millionth time. “Kayla Evans?”
“I don’t know.”
His hesitation’s so brief, and yet it stands out bright like a beacon.
I want to push for the truth, a real answer, but I don’t.
Whatever the answer is, he won’t tell me.
Besides, I can’t do a thing with it right now.
And if she really is dead, then I’ll never forgive him.
I’ll find a way to destroy him and take down VMR. Somehow.
“But,” he adds, “I’m looking into it. As I told you before. Now eat.”
With that, he rises and leaves, making me want to hurl the bars at the door.
Inside me, the monster prowls, but to get out, to be the victor, it needs to do my bidding, so I eat the bars.
I couldn’t say how long I remain in here after Lucian’s visit, but when the door opens again, I’m standing, stronger than before, more centered.
It’s not Lucian.
It’s Vittoria. She’s in black, too, which makes her red hair stand out even more.
I scoff. “Great. Lucian sent his lap dog to bother me now? Pathetic.”
Vittoria flies across the room in a blurring rush of speed.
Her hand fists in my shirt, and I hit the wall.
Colors dance before my vision from the impact.
She lifts me, feet dangling in the air, and I try to fight her, to peel her fingers away from the center of my chest where the bullet wound still stings, but she’s stronger.
She fixes a vicious glare on me. “I’m no one’s dog.”
“His go-fer, then.”
She shakes me violently, and the world spins.
“Like you, Lucian is my maker, but don’t be fooled.
I’ve always had the ability to leave him if I wanted to.
I choose Lucian. And you? I think he’s a fucking fool.
All that blonde hair and curls. The big sweet blue eyes.
Those things might have fooled him. But they don’t fool me. ”
“Put me down,” I snarl. “Or you’ll regret it.”
She only laughs. “He should have let you die. He wasted the gift on you.” Vittoria sets me on the ground, but she still doesn’t let go. “Hurt Lucian, or even attempt to, and I’ll kill you. For good.”
This time, she releases me.
I rub my chest. Fucking bitch.
When she turns to walk out the door, she pauses in the doorway. Without looking over her shoulder, she says, “Are you coming or not?”
Wait, she’s letting me out? “Where are we going?”
“To Lucian…and then we’ll see.”
She starts to stride farther away, leaving the door wide open, so I hurry to catch up and follow her down the narrow, dark hall to the elevator.
Lucian is in his office. His gaze crosses past me to Vittoria the moment we step inside. “Get things ready.”
“Are you sure about this?” She fixes her gaze on me. “The princess might be better left here.”
“This was your idea.” He snarls but doesn’t rise from behind his desk. “And now you’re having second thoughts? Go. Get things ready.”
She does a mocking curtsy before stalking out.
Now alone with him, silence surrounds us.
So many things fly through my mind at once.
Like how part of me still wants to jump him and ride his cock as he sits there behind his desk.
And how another part wants to punch him in the face or tear into his wrist and drink the delicious and electrifying blood he gave me before.
But he jolts me out of all those thoughts when he says, “Take off your top.”
I blanch. “My top? Why? I’m not having sex—”
“You think I want to fuck you, Monty? Like this?” He laughs softly. “Apart from the fact you’ve been through an ordeal these past few days, I’m not interested in fucking someone who’s covered in old blood.”
“Really?” The sarcasm is heavy.
“Yes.” He smirks. “Fresh blood, on the other hand…”
“How presumptuous of you.” I stand there, not sure what to do.
When I was in the locked room, away from him, it was easy to plot his demise.
But now, standing in front of him, it’s harder to muster the same courage.
I know he’s powerful—I’ve always known—but the closeness takes it to another level.
I can somehow feel his power vibrating within my bones.
He only stares at me. Waiting.
I pull off my top and drop it at my feet.
My bra’s also soaked with the old blood, so it comes off next. I meet him behind the desk. He turns in his chair to face me fully.
“I know what you’re thinking, Monty,” he says.
I make myself say it, say his nickname I gave him what feels like a millennium ago. “No, you don’t, Lucy.”
He trails a finger over my flesh, making me shiver, but he pauses at my wound. “Look.”
Against my will, I look down.
All that remains is a puckered, angry scar. “What…?”
“Part of being a vampire. Healing is preternaturally fast.”
“It wasn’t fast.” As I found out when Vittoria grabbed me, it’s still tender.
He doesn’t lift his fingers from my skin, and his touch burns deep into me. “I heard your heart stop beating after the bullet hit you. You were bleeding out… So I saved you.”
“Cursed me.”
He shakes his head. He wants to say something more. It sparks in the air between us.
After a long moment, he says, “It’s a gift. And all gifts have weight to them, no matter how light in the hand. Besides, I wasn’t rea—”
Frowning, he stops suddenly, lets me go, and stands.
“Lucian?”
Lucian doesn’t touch me again. He just points to the door to the right. “There’s a suite through there. Bathroom, shower. Soap. And on the bed is a change of clothes, some things Vittoria got for you.”
“I’m her plaything?”
“No, Monty,” he snaps. “I am busy, so I asked her to help out. She did.”
I bite my tongue as more insults and accusations threaten to roll.
If I want my freedom, want him to let his guard down, I need to play the part. “What do you have in mind?”
“If you’re up to it, you can come and see some of what we do on occasion. It’s rare, but I take part when I need to. And this time, I need to. This is payback for what was done to you with de Santis. I figured you’d want to participate.”
My heart starts to beat hard. This is going to be a test. I can taste it, but revenge sounds delicious. Especially if it involves me being able to sink my teeth into a live vein.
“You want me to come?” I ask.
“If you’re up to it.”
“I am.” In ways he doesn’t see.
“This is me trusting you, Elliot,” he says.
I nod.
“Good. Go shower, get dressed. We’re going hunting.”
Finally.
I can’t wait.