A Wicked Night (Creatures of Darkness 2): A Coraline Conwell Novel (17 page)

She had come for his soul.

To relieve him of his torment.

Consciousness slapped Cora awake.

She was back on the gurney, strapped in place, but she couldn’t recall how she’d gotten there, not that she couldn’t guess.

She jerked her head around, scanning for her captors, but all she found was an empty, dimly lit cavern save one ensnared vamp casually studying her from his place against the wall. Her gurney was situated a dozen feet away from him.

“Morning,” he greeted. “Or maybe evening. I never know for sure.”

“Oh, goddess,” she groaned, remembering how much blood she’d consumed. She braced for a tortuous descent into insatiable need.

She waited…and waited…but there was no aftermath. In fact, she felt relatively good, considering. Could it be with the help of the doctor’s shot she’d slept through the worst of it?

She lifted her head to survey her body. All her wounds had healed, although the skin under her straps was already re-chafing.

She glanced at the vampire tethered to the wall. “Have I been out long?”

“Hard to say.” The vampire’s timbre was remarkably conversational as though her question might have been posed over afternoon tea. “Hours, maybe. Possibly a day. Before I passed out, myself, I saw you tag that doctor. Nice hit. Wish I could have had the pleasure.”

“If only,” she replied, running her gaze over his athletic, somewhat barbaric-looking build. He stood shirtless, his lower half covered by a baggy pair of scrubs tied loosely at the hips. A strapping tribal-like tattoo encompassed his right shoulder and upper bicep. “One hit from you and I bet his head would have come clean off.”

The vampire’s roguish smile transformed his features into an attractive mosaic. “I would have gone for a homer.” He turned serious. “Then I would have torn the spines from those other two.”

For the first time in her life, she didn’t tremble at hearing dark malevolence married to a vampire’s tone; she identified with it.

If her assumption was correct, this vampire had been trapped here a lot longer than she. His desire for vengeance against his captors must be far past the boiling point. In the slim chance she was able to free herself, it was possible she could utilize him to her advantage. It was clear now she would have to fight her way out of here if she was to survive. What better weapon than a simmering, blood thirsty vampire.

Only a few short months ago, her thoughts would have shocked her, both for thinking to team up with a strange vampire and for assuming she could bank on him. But so much had changed since she’d met Mace, Knox, and Trent. Her world had changed….

She had changed.

And it seemed she could never find the time to evaluate the person she was becoming before something else moved in to scramble her world once more.

“What is your name?” she asked. If she was going to form an alliance with this vampire, she must first determine his character. It would do no good to put her trust in him if she even slightly suspected he’d betray her at his convenience.

“Yes, I suppose now that we’re
bonded
we should get to know each other.” His words were a bitter grouse.

“Oh, I wasn’t sure you’d been aware enough to remember that.” Bonded to yet another vampire, she mentally groaned.
I’m cursed
.

A sense of foreboding slammed into her mind. If he recalled their bonding, he also realized he could now find no other nourishment but that of her blood—hers alone. If they teamed up and, goddess willing, managed to escape, she would be stuck with him just as she was Knox, who must, even now, be rampaging over her disappearance.

The vampire’s features darkened with rage, but not toward her. “I remember everything they’ve done to me.”

Her face almost sank into an expression of pity, but she force impassivity. She didn’t know him well enough to feel sorry for him. For all she knew, he was just another Edgar, cruel and heartless and getting what he deserved.

“Forgive me,” he said. “It’s been a while since I exchanged pleasantries. My name is Brayden.”

Her lungs pulled in a disbelieving gasp. He couldn’t be…

Brayden’s head cocked as he caught her subtle tell. “Have you heard of me then?”

“I, uh…I recently met a vampire named Trent. Do you know him?”

“My sire goes by that name.” Hope settled in the fringe of Brayden’s eyes. “Did he send you?” Then he scrutinized her with a sober eye, dragging his gaze over her from head to toe. His thoughts came through as if spoken. Why would Trent dispatch such a meek rescuer?

“Sorry, no,” she replied. “I just know he’s been looking for you. So is Mace.”

He frowned. “Bang up job they’re doing.”

The affront she felt was on Mason’s behalf. “They’ve been working really hard. At first they thought you died in a fire. They only discovered you were still alive last year.”

“And yet a human has managed to stumble across me before them.”

“I’m not human.” The words were out before she could reason them through. She turned her head away, silently chastising her carelessness. Although, what did it matter if he knew what she was?

“Intriguing. Let me guess…” He slipped into contemplative silence as though entering a game of name-that-being. “Your right hook wasn’t hefty enough for a werewolf, or any shifter really. A witch would have used magic to fight off those men, and would have done some major damage—”

She frowned, but did not interject.

“—You’re definitely no vampire, although your blood is strong enough. Demon, maybe? Or are you of the fae?”

“Forget it. I’m just a human.” He was right. A witch would have done more damage.

“Have I insulted you? Are you a shifter, then? Runt of the litter?”

“No. I’m not a shifter, or a werewolf.”

“A witch?”

Heat set her cheeks aflame.

“Ah, a witch. Have you no magic?”

She avoided his gaze, and embarrassment firmed her lips. He was too good at this game.

“So, a witch without magic. There’s a story there I bet, and what luck, I have time to spare.”

“Am I really so easy to read?” He was better than Knox at guessing her thoughts.

“It comes naturally when you’ve lived as long as I have.”

“Oh? How long is that?”

He turned suspicious. “This isn’t a ploy for information is it? Are you working with those men?”

She stared at him, aghast by the accusation.

“Don’t look so insulted.” He jerked his chin at the cell door. “I wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Why would they care how old you are?”

He managed an awkward shrug. “Old blood is more potent. Could drive up the price. Other than that, I don’t know why they’d want to know, but hell if I’m going to enlighten them.”

“Is age something of a guarded secret for vampires?” Mace had skirted around the issue as well.

“The older a vampire is, the stronger he is.”

She nodded. This she knew.

“Just as many don’t like to reveal their weaknesses, some vampires don’t like to reveal their strengths. Better to be underestimated, don’t you think? Personally, under different circumstances, I wouldn’t normally fret about it, but those guards are near and could be listening. And any info they want, I will be withholding. I suggest you do the same.”

“How can you tell they’re near?”

“I can smell the sweat on their skin. They are more out of shape than they probably realize.” His lips formed an impish half-grin. “A magicless slip of a witch nearly got the drop on them.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I meant that as a compliment. Desperation can be the deciding factor between victory and failure.”

“Well, I failed. Guess I wasn’t desperate enough.”

“One against three is never very good odds in any case. Besides, you’re not dead yet.”

“No. Very much alive, and very much trapped.” She paused. “What do they want from us? Why keep us together here in this cell. And why force us to bond?”

“I know what they want from me. My blood, sold to the highest bidder. You, however, are a mystery. Twice they’ve come to take samples of your blood while you were unconscious. I wonder what they’d be wanting that for.”

She supposed she already had an answer for that, or rather, a theory.

Brayden was closely studying her features, reading her, she suspected. By the quizzical tilt of his head, he must have caught her apprehension. “So tell me. If Trent did not send you, how is it you came to be here?”

“It’s a long story,” she said.

His hands spread out as best they could with the restriction. “Nothing but time.”

She bit her lip, debating. Could this information be used against her? Would the guards, if they were truly listening, discover anything they didn’t already know? What did it matter when she was at their whim anyway? They could just torture her if they wanted information. The fact that they hadn’t told her they had all they needed, or didn’t care. And in all likelihood, her captors were the ones behind Winston’s black market blood business. The ones who had ordered his assassination.

She couldn’t find a reason not to share with Brayden what she knew. At least, a little of it.

“Before I met Mace, I was married. My husband, Winston, was secretly slipping me small amounts of…your blood.” She averted her gaze, suddenly and irrationally ashamed. The deed was done without her knowledge, but she still felt culpable for being so naive. “Sometime last year, Mace and Trent discovered your blood was being distributed on the black market and traced it back to Winston. They think he was using me to test the blood to make sure it wasn’t tainted. I guess an influx of bad blood was saturating the market. People were dying from it.”

“Your husband would risk your life like that?”

She fought against her tightening throat. “Clearly our marriage wasn’t what I thought. He had found me when I was at my lowest. I had just gotten out of a bad situation with a gang and was alone, hiding out on the streets of St. Stamsworth. He lured me in with the promise of security. Love. A better life. Stupidly, I believed him.”

“It’s not stupid to seek those things.” Brayden surprised her with the unexpected remark.

“But to want it so badly…to blind myself to the truth?”

“It’s easy to lose your heart when love is anteed.”

That was rather poetic.

“I’ll remember to fold next time.” Her swiftly spoken words brought on a bout of guilt. Mace wanted her love. She just didn’t know if she had any left to give, though she did care for him deeply. Winston had been at the end of a long list of bad affairs—she continuously fell for the wrong kind of man—and she didn’t want to see Mace’s name inscribed underneath his.

Ignorant of her musings, Brayden continued. “Your family did not see through this Winston? Gave you no well-intentioned warnings?”

“I had none. Not for a long time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Anyway,” she hurried along. “I met Mace a few months back when my husband was murdered either by his cohorts or the competition. By then, Mace and the VEA had been watching us for some time. Aside from Winston feeding me your blood, he and our family doctor were monitoring its effects on me, just as the doctor seems to be doing now. Only they had been doing it without my knowledge.”

“To what end?” Bray asked.

“Mace theorized they were trying to figure out how to transform a human into a vampire.” She let the weight of that sink in.

“You’re kidding. You think they’re trying to turn people? So that’s why they took samples of your blood. To see how you’re progressing.” He shook his head, a deep crease forming between his eyes. “But it doesn’t explain why they’d force us to bond.”

Cora considered that. “Maybe they’re stuck. Trying something different. Although if that’s a new avenue for them, it really wasn’t necessary.”

“Why’s that?”

“I, uh.” She paused. Would he react as poorly as Knox had? She lowered her voice. “I’m bonded already…to Mace and, um, Knox.”

One brow slowly rose with what she figured was the onset of a Knox-like accusation. Her shoulders bunched, but she managed to keep them from turning up in an obvious cringe.