Christian (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 10) (34 page)

One of her guards went ahead of her, and it was obvious from the moment she stepped inside that she’d been right—these were definitely Anthony’s quarters. The room was decorated much the way his office had been, except for the self-congratulatory photos hanging on the walls. The style was old New Orleans, with rich fabrics and dark woods, and the furniture looked like it might be antique.

Her guards didn’t linger, but kept her moving through the outer room, pulling her into a small office that had only a desk and two chairs. An oil painting of the New Orleans harbor circa mid-1800s hung on the wall above the desk, and bookshelves lined the rest. Her guards shoved her down into one of the chairs and left her there, closing and locking the door with an obnoxiously loud click when they left.

Natalie stuck her tongue out at the door, then waited a few minutes and tiptoed over to listen. Vampires were stealthy, so she didn’t expect to hear their footsteps, but even vampires had conversations, and their clothes made noise like everyone else’s when they shifted around. She listened intently, with her ear to the nonexistent crack between the doors, but she didn’t hear anything. What troubled her, though, was that she hadn’t heard the outer door close. That could mean all kinds of things, from her guards leaving it open, to them sitting right outside, or simply a really quiet latch.

She wished she knew which one it was, but it didn’t really matter. Because she had a gun, and she knew how to use it.

Going over to the desk, she set her purse down carefully, not wanting the heavy gun to make a sound, just in case. With a furtive glance at the door, she pulled the Glock pistol out, released the magazine as quietly as she could, then checked the weapon over. She would have felt better if she’d had a chance to take it to the gun range before putting her life on the line, but it seemed in good order. And from everything she’d heard about Cynthia Leighton, she doubted the woman would send her anything but a fully functional weapon. She loaded the mag with the Hydra-Shok ammo and slapped it back in, masking the slight noise with a loud cough.

With the gun in hand, she went over to the door and examined the lock. Her granddaddy had complained a long time ago about all those movies that showed people shooting out locks. He said any decent lock would be a lot tougher to destroy, while at the same time grumbling that most locks were shit. But Natalie could still hear the loud click of this particular lock engaging, and so she bent over to see exactly what she was dealing with.

It was a deadbolt, and looked almost too heavy for the door. She’d checked as best she could when they’d hustled her in here, and the door had appeared to be an ordinary inside door, even lighter than the one in the outer room. The lock, on the other hand, was pretty damn serious. But that was okay, because Leighton’s Hydra-Shok ammo was serious, too. She might not be able to shoot out that lock, but then, she didn’t have to. She could just blow the door to pieces and climb through. It would make a lot of noise, but that’s what the rest of her mag was for. She’d never shot a person before, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t. Especially if that person had kidnapped her and was now holding her against her will.

She stiffened to attention when she heard voices outside. They drew closer, and she recognized one of them as Anthony’s. Her fingers tightened on the gun. She could shoot him when he walked through the door. But what about his guards? She wasn’t exactly Rambo, and these were vampires. She doubted she could shoot fast enough to hit more than one of them, even if that one was Anthony. On the other hand, she was really worried about Anthony’s immediate plans for her. If he tried to bite her as some sort of claiming ritual . . . Just the thought made her sick to her stomach.

She shoved the gun into her purse just in time, as the door opened and Anthony walked into the room.

“Natalie, darling,” he said, taking her hands in his, raking her over from head to toe. He frowned as he took in the artfully faded and torn jeans, her Nikes, and slouchy sweater. “Not your usual mode of dress, my dear. But we can buy you something more appropriate once we’re home.”

Natalie bit her tongue to keep from telling him what he could do with his “usual mode” comment. But then the full meaning of what he’d said penetrated.

“Home?” she asked. What did he mean by home? Where was he taking her?

“New Orleans, of course. We’ll be leaving within the hour.” He chuckled at Natalie’s puzzled expression, and said, “I’m sure this is all very confusing for you. It’s certainly not what I planned, but events have overtaken us, and we must move quickly.”

“Events?” she repeated. “What sort of events?”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, darling,” he said solemnly. “But Christian Duvall is dead. He fought bravely, but his opponent was much older and more powerful, and he never had a chance.”

“Dead?” Grief swelled, crushing her heart and lungs, until she could barely breathe. But even as she swayed under the pain of it, part of her doubted Anthony’s words. She and Christian had a connection, didn’t they? They weren’t mated or anything, but he was a powerful vampire, and he’d taken her blood more than once. She’d even taken a little of his, too, just a few hours ago, when she’d bit his shoulder. But even more than that, she
loved
him. Her thoughts screeched to a halt as she realized it was true. She loved him. Which made her even more certain that Anthony was lying. But she couldn’t stop the tears that welled up, and didn’t even try. They rolled down her cheeks, and she couldn’t find the will to wipe them away.

“I know you cared for him. You’re young and innocent, and he had that French charm, but trust me, darling Natalie, you’ll forget him once we start our life together.”

Natalie froze. She could feel Anthony’s mind pushing at her again, trying to persuade her to his way of thinking. Or, more likely, to take away her will and force her do what he wanted. The bastard. Well, too bad for him. She knew what it felt like now, and Anthony held no dominion over her. Christian was the only vampire in her heart
and
her mind.

A thought suddenly occurred to her. If Christian was still in her mind, if their connection was still protecting her from Anthony’s sleazy manipulation, then he had to be alive. Either Anthony was lying, or he didn’t know the truth of what had happened down in Laredo. Either way, her best bet was to pretend to go along for now. Let Anthony think she was his . . . whatever the hell he thought of her as. Slave? Minion? Lover? She shuddered inwardly at the very idea, but she had to convince him she’d been whammied. She dug up an engaging smile and plastered it on her face as she listened to his crazy ass plans.

“The house is ready, with all the necessary upgrades for our safety. I’ve even spoken to your parents, and they’ve given their blessing. You’ll be immortal, my darling, just as I am. We’ll have several lifetimes together.”

Good Lord. She barely managed to keep her reaction from showing. He’d talked to her parents? What the hell? Was he stuck in the fourteenth century? But it didn’t matter, because she knew he was lying now. Her father
would
never
have given his blessing to a relationship with Anthony. He’d have been on the phone five seconds after Anthony left, yelling at her to get her ass home so he could set her straight.

“I know this has been an emotional night for you, and I wish I could give you more time. But you can rest on the way, and you’ll feel better once we reach New Orleans. Now, relax as much as you can, and I’ll be back to escort you to the plane very soon.” He pulled her into a tight embrace, and she had to force herself not to shove him away. “We’re going to be so happy.” He said it with so much emotion, that she was convinced he believed it. Yikes.

It was almost painful to maintain her fake smile, as she watched him hurry out of the room, his guards in tow. The door closed, and she heard the click of the lock. She blew out a relieved breath, massaging her jaw, which was stiff from that stupid smile. She walked over and tested the knob. Definitely locked. Apparently, their impending connubial bliss didn’t stop him from holding her prisoner. And what was the big hurry in leaving for New Orleans tonight? Could it be that someone was on his way back here? Someone like Christian?

She heard the outer door close this time, and the noise snapped her out of her thoughts. Who cared about why Anthony was going to New Orleans? The only thing that mattered was that he believed he was taking her with him, and that wasn’t going to happen. She was going to be long gone before he came back.

The possibility that Christian might actually be dead briefly threatened to derail her new determination, but she fought it back. If Anthony was lying about one thing, he was probably lying about it all. But she needed to get out of there to uncover the truth.

THE FLIGHT BACK to Houston seemed to take days rather than hours. Christian checked his cell phone obsessively, calling Natalie far too many times, and never getting her. By the time the chopper reached his neighborhood, he was standing in the open hatch staring down as if he could see what was happening by force of will alone.

The pilot headed for the high school athletic field, but Christian tapped his shoulder. “Drop us at the house, we’ll jump.”

The man swiveled to give him a disbelieving look, then shrugged. He’d probably figured out by now that his passengers weren’t exactly your run-of-the-mill humans. If they wanted to jump from a helicopter, that was their business.

“I can’t hover any lower than twenty-five, thirty feet in that neighborhood,” he warned Christian. “There’s a rope back there if you want to rappel down.”

Christian nodded. One rope for the four of them would take too long, but maybe Scoville would need to use it. He was still far from full strength.

Having heard the conversation, Marc stood and dug around behind the seats. Finding the rope, he looped it through a D-ring tie-down on the floor of the chopper, then knotted it securely. Scoville stared at the rope unhappily, but gave a reluctant nod. He probably hated being the weak link, but he wasn’t stubborn enough to break a few more bones trying to prove something that didn’t need proving.

Christian’s house came into view, and it didn’t look good. Every light was on and the front door was wide open. As the pilot maneuvered into place, Christian noticed that one of the bedroom shutters was also cracked open, which meant someone had gotten out that way. Or at least tried to.

Fear settled in his gut. What the hell had happened? He looked over at Cibor, whose face reflected the same emotion. His lover was down there, a woman he’d been with for decades, if not centuries.

“This is the best I can do,” the pilot said over their headsets.

Christian leaned out the open door and nodded. “This will do.” He ripped off the headset, and leapt. Cibor was right behind him, then Marc, and finally Scoville slithered down the rope.

The minute his feet hit the ground, Christian was running, his senses wide open, scanning the house for signs of life. He found only one, faint but there. A vampire.

Where the fuck was Natalie?

“One vampire,” he snapped as Cibor raced up beside him. “Badly injured.”

Cibor growled and shoved into the house ahead of Christian, falling to his knees at what he found. Jaclyn lay facedown on the floor, blood staining her sweater and pooling around her from a wound they couldn’t see. Her head was turned to one side, her pale face bruised, her eyes closed.

“Jaclyn,
moje serce
,” he cried, lifting her delicate frame into his arms.

Christian didn’t know much Polish, but he knew that one. “My heart,” he’d called her, and the agony infused into those two words told Christian more than anything he’d learned from Natalie about the love shared between these two vampires.

“Let me help her,” he said gently, going to his knees in front of the couple. There was no point in searching the house for Natalie. She wasn’t here. And he wasn’t prepared to find her body, so he didn’t look.

Cibor crushed Jaclyn closer to his chest, with a hostile look. Christian understood the vampire’s dilemma. His instincts were telling him to defend her, but reason was telling him Christian could be trusted, and that he could help her. Cibor just had to get past the fierce possessiveness that was riding him hard right now.

Christian waited patiently, meeting Cibor’s gaze, gently urging the other vampire to
think
.

“Let him do it,” a weak voice said, and both vampires dipped their heads to stare at Jaclyn. Her lips parted in a bloody grimace. “My body’s trying to fix itself, but I’ve lost too much blood.”

Christian snapped his gaze back to Cibor. Jaclyn might want his help, but he still had to get past her lover.

The big Polish vampire finally nodded, but he didn’t release his grip on Jaclyn.

“She needs to drink, Cibor,” Christian said matter-of-factly. He wasn’t a lord yet, but he had far more power than Cibor did, which meant his blood was more powerful, too. He shoved the long sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow, then bent his head to rip open a vein. Blood welled instantly. Cibor’s nostrils flared, as Jaclyn turned her head, instinctively seeking the flowing bounty. She growled, and Cibor finally loosened his hold just enough for her to roll in Christian’s direction.

Christian didn’t wait. Not wanting to push Cibor’s protective instincts past the limit, he scooted only close enough to extend his arm, and place his wrist over Jaclyn’s mouth. She latched on at once, mostly lapping the blood at first, then sucking more vigorously as her strength returned. Which didn’t take long. Jaclyn was a powerful vampire, and Christian’s blood was potent. After only a few minutes, she gave a final long lick and released Christian’s arm. He could already see the strength returning to her, her face once again animated by her own power.

She sat up, still leaning on Cibor, but clearly far better than she had been.

“What happened?” Christian asked as patiently as he could.

Cibor gave him an unfriendly look, but Jaclyn patted her lover’s hand and turned to Christian. “It was my fault,” she said. “A friend came to the door, one of the few women on Anthony’s security squad, and someone I thought could be trusted. I opened the door to her, and the bitch did this.” She dipped her chin at her abdomen and the bloody ruin of her shirt. “But I was just in the way,” she said, meeting Christian’s gaze intently. “It’s Anthony, Christian. He still thinks Natalie is his.”