Reluctant Storm (7 page)

“You keep pulling on the chains as if you will break them eventually… you know that’s impossible right?”

Swallowing, I refuse to look at him and yank defiantly on the chain again, and for the first time, I enjoy the sound as they rattle against the wall. He stares me down as his fangs drop, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to stop the fear coursing through me.

“Watch me as I kill her! Watch me!” He continues yelling at me. “Watch what you will become and what I will have the pleasure of making you into.”

His pearly fangs glint in the light as he opens his mouth and clamps down on the girl’s neck. She doesn’t even make a single noise. She just sits there and holds both hands clasped together in her lap, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Hearing the gulping sounds coming from him makes my stomach turn over, and I barely have time to move to the edge of the bed before my stomach lurches and the dry heaves begin. It empties itself of what little was in it.

Lifting his head, he looks at me with a content smirk as she unceremoniously falls to the floor with a thump. He leans down and uses his finger to swipe some blood from her neck and approaches me. “Have you ever had blood?”

My mind suddenly goes back to the day in the bathroom when I cut myself shaving my legs and wanted to try it, but I shake my head no, pursing my lips closed. I don’t want any blood. I crab walk backwards as I try to get as far from him as I possibly can, only it’s no use as he follows and presses me against the wall. I turn my head to the side and feel a tear run down my face as I close my eyes. He takes his bloody finger and traces my lips, and I feel the wetness seep into my skin and shudder knowing the girl is dead.

He leans back and examines my lips, touching them softly, “Taste your lips.”

He’s acting like this is something I’m willingly doing. What the hell? I shake my head no and purse my lips tightly together.

He gives me this appalled look. “No one has told you yet, have they?” he asks looking at me in sadness. “Such a pity, you could have been groomed for so much. Instead, they left you useless, bad for you, good for me. Now lick your lips.”

Refusing, I curl myself into as much of a ball as I can to make myself as small as I can.

Without warning, I’m lifted up as far as my chains will allow and pressed against the wall again. Riley presses his body into mine and crushes his blood -soaked lips to mine. I try to fight him off; pushing against his shoulders, but he doesn’t budge. When I feel a wave of something tingle through me, somehow I know everything is going to be okay. The pressure of his lips against mine is intense. It feels surprisingly normal and not torturous like I was expecting, which
is really conflicting with how he has been acting. My mind doesn’t know how to deal about this. My brain says run away, and my body says stay for more. His lips are soft and warm against mine, his tongue presses against the seam of my lips, and I open my mouth, letting him in. He has such a sweet flavor to him that I don’t hesitate to pull his tongue into my mouth and suck, forgetting there’s blood on it. I feel myself getting extremely turned on by the taste of blood and the way his mouth is moving against mine. I feel his hard body pressed against mine and it’s telling me that he feels the effects of the kiss as well. He suddenly pulls back with a surprised look on his face and then puts his forehead against mine.

“What just happened?” he whispers to himself, looking down at me. “Have you used one of your spells on me?”

Hanging my head in shame, I look anywhere but at him. I’m embarrassed that I would ever do something like this and the feeling of shame washing over me is great. His words finally soak in and I glance up at him. Did he just say spells? “Spells, what are you talking about?” I ask, stunned and shaking my head at him. “Spells aren’t real. They’re something you read in a book, or watch on TV, not in real life.”

His gaze is intense and shakes his head, running his hand through his already tousled hair. “No, when I kissed you I felt something, didn’t you?” He instantly grabs my shirt and lifts it up.

Aghast, I cringe as cool air hits my chest, and I watch closely at an area right above my bra cup. I glance at him and notice his face has gone white as he stares at my chest. I watch him swallow deeply and lift his hand to the spot he is staring at. I look down again and notice a small black symbol about the size of a half dollar. It appears to be a name in cursive with a small symbol next to it, something that wasn’t there five minutes ago. Frozen, I’m left chained to the wall, staring at the name above my left breast in shock and with more questions than answers.

“Shit…fuck!” he yells angrily, throwing the chair across the room and making me jump. .

He approaches me again and looks at me in shock as he pulls my shirt down and whispers into my ear, “Don’t tell anyone, and I mean anyone, what just happened.” Staring at his eyes as they go fully black, I watch helplessly as he stalks out of the room, slamming the door with a boom.

Left in the overwhelming silence, all I hear are my gasps and the loud wheezing sound coming from my throat as I stare at the dead girl still lying on the floor and drained of all of her blood. I
feel what little I’ve eaten present itself again and barely make it in time to throw up in the bucket that was left on the floor. My head’s spinning with everything that’s happened. It’s just too much for me to take in, and I let my body slide down the wall, staring blankly at my bloody and bruised legs. How did Riley’s name get on my chest, and what exactly does this mean? Lifting my head, I notice blood on the sheets from the dead girl. It’s then that I feel something tearing out of my gums with such force I can’t help but scream, and once I start screaming I can’t stop.

I slam the door to the cell and order the guards to leave. I proceed to shove my back against the wall, sliding towards the floor and breathing heavily as I take it all in. I’ve just found my bond mate, a girl who has been tortured, that I took part in torturing, and should hate is chained to a wall. My father will kill her if he finds out. I know what I have to do. I have to complete the bonding process and get her the hell out of here. Holy fuck, what is wrong with me? I’m Riley fucking Dumont, and this shit doesn’t happen to me; I’m above that. I. Am. Fucking. Above. That.

I hang my head between my legs and remember Griffin telling me I would never be allowed to find a mate. It wasn’t in his plan, and I should be grateful he trained me the way he did. After a moment, I stand. I can’t just give in, I have to fight it. Maybe seeing one of the blood whores will help me clear my head and get her out of it.

I walk to the set of apartments where dad keeps the live blood bank. I stroll in unnoticed and grin at a brown haired girl that reminds me of Megan Fox sitting on the couch. Confidently, I walk over to her, motioning for her to stand. I point towards a room and she obeys without hesitation. I watch her ass as sway back and forth, smiling, and I know she can definitely get Claire out of my head. I’ll know soon enough.

Walking her to the bed, I take her purple dress off and watch with pleasure as it slides to the floor. She is left in her lingerie, and I push her down on the soft bed while pulling my shirt off with vampire speed. I cover her with my body. I press my mouth against hers, pulling her lip with my teeth and letting my tongue invade her mouth. I kiss her plump lips and groan when I feel nothing, absolutely nothing. Frustrated, I move to her breasts and pull her bra down, taking her nipple in my mouth. I hear her mewls and know I’m doing something, only I’m not feeling any part of it. It’s actually boring me. Letting her nipple pop out of my mouth, I groan in frustration. I already know I’m not turned on one bit. I drop my head and let my eyes go back. I try again and pull the girl onto my lap and tilt her head and press my lips against her neck. Her moans tell me she is really into this. I am desperate to feel the same way. I clench my jaw tight and curse under my breath. It’s just no use. I feel nothing.

I turn her face toward me. “Look into my eyes,” I tell her in a monotone voice, “You are going to put your dress back on and go back to the couch and watch a movie. I was never here, and we were never in bed. You did nothing today.”

Blinking rapidly, I break contact with her and she looks at me confused. “Why are you here?”

I make up the first thing that comes to mind, “I was going to feed but decided not to.”

“You sure? No one’s fed on me for a while, and you haven’t come to my bed in forever,” she says coyly with her pouty lips.

“Oh, I’m positive,” I say, heading for the door. I shake my head in disbelief. I hardly know this girl, and I’m turning away someone who would normally keep me entertained for hours. Thanks to Claire and I accidently starting the bond, I have absolutely no problem doing that. That’s the ironic thing with bonds, once they’re started, they can’t be stopped. The thought of hurting someone who is your soul mate is excruciating, and you immediately become their protector. The irony is that I am in fact her jailer and torturer. I’ve done bad things in my life. I’m not a good guy, but maybe I can be good for her.

I walk rapidly towards my apartment on the south side of the mansion and unlock the heavy door. I close it and lean against it, contemplating my next move. I push away from the door and head straight towards the fridge, grabbing a bag of blood, ripping it open and pressing it to my mouth. I swallow without a second thought, not even bothering with a glass. Within seconds it’s empty and I toss it into the trash. My hands are at my shirt buttons before I even think about it, unbuttoning them and pulling it out of my pants. I jerk it off and toss it to the floor, unconcerned for the mess I’m making. I move towards my bedroom and grab a black pair of track pants and black hoodie and head for the shower. I run the water full blast, and while waiting for the water to warm, I take in my reflection, staring hard at Claire’s name above my heart. It appears so very foreign on my body. I have tattoos on my arms and back, but those were all chosen by me, and none on my chest. The tattoos are there for one reason and one reason only, to cover up the scars from the whippings I received from my dad, because in his eyes I was a weakling and still am. He thought if he beat me enough I’d become more of a man, but what I became was a great actor. I’m not stupid, I know he has cameras in the cell Claire’s in. I lift my hand to my chest and slowly trace her name that now lies there, feeling a jolt as I do. Stepping into the warm water, I let it rain over me as I sort everything out and how the hell I’m supposed to break the news to Claire. What I regret is that she saw the part of me that I don’t allow people to see. Most only see the dark side of me, the torturer side, and they don’t ever live to tell about it.

Claire, oh God, when I first saw her I knew I would have to pull my act together and make her see the evil that I am. I find myself wondering how I can I have a bond mate that’s considered the enemy and not even a full vampire? The things my father has done to her, and the things I said to her, may cause her to never feel safe with me as her mate. I feel disgusted with myself and slam my fist into the shower wall, making a huge dent. I instantly feel the pain of my broken fingers and watch as they slowly heal themselves. My anger isn’t appeased. I want to feel more pain—no, I need to feel pain. Unfortunately, I have to see my dad, and I can’t take my anger out on him, no matter how badly I want to. I step out of the shower and open a drawer. I grab a knife, gripping it in my fist and slide it across my chest, over her name, and watch blood flow down my chest. I enjoy the relief it gives me for a few minutes and then watch as my skin heals itself. Sometimes I hate the fact that my skin heals itself. Griffin uses his silver knife, his weapon of choice that creates scarring. He likes seeing the scars he creates, and he’s also a sick bastard.

Before meeting my dad, I stop by the basement and locate the guards who are playing poker in a smoky room across from Claire’s. I glare at them when they fail to notice me. I walk to the table where they have everything laid out and knock the thing over. I am satisfied at the loud sound it makes crashing down, and the guards jump to their feet and stand at attention.

“Good, you’re paying attention. No one but me is allowed in there,” I say, pointing at Claire’s door. “Not Griffin, not anyone but me. Should anyone else be allowed in, I will take great pleasure in killing each and every one of you.”

They look up, startled, but know better than to question my orders. They’ve been trained not to question anything. If they question orders, they are dead.

Leaving them, I rapidly walk through the basement up to the area of the house where Griffin resides.
The ornateness of the living room is so ridiculous,
I think as I walk under the huge chandelier Dad had imported from France. I slow down once I get to the family hallway and notice a guard standing at attention. I nod towards him in a cocky manner. I manage to keep my mouth in a straight line and look at him in the way that I do to bring true fear to his eyes. So far it’s the only way I’ve survived this long. If I show weakness, I will be staked by Griffin without a second thought.

I stroll into Griffin’s office without knocking and let the door shut behind me with a soft click. I find him going through papers, and I wait for him to glance up at me. It’s so quiet in the room and the only noise is the crinkling of paper and the fireplace crackling as wood pops with heat.

He looks at me as he finishes signing off on a paper and puts it aside, steepling his fingers under his chin, acknowledging my presence. The irony isn’t lost on me. He needs me as an integral part of his fight for the Vampire Kingdom, and yet he doesn’t think I’m worthy to be his son.

“How is she doing?” he quietly asks as he puts the papers in a drawer. I swallow any doubt I have and walk over to the liquor cabinet and pour a glass of bourbon. I smile as I take a sip, only to see him smirking at me.

“Is it really necessary to drink this early?”

“I’m a vampire. Time doesn’t really matter to me anymore…hasn’t since I turned, but then you should know that.”

“You are so like your mother, disgraceful. She was nothing but a whore,” he responds sharply.

I ignore him and the twinge that hits me every single time he says this to me. I drain the glass, looking at him over the rim. “I’m going to need full access to her twenty-four/seven with no interruptions from you or the guards. You cannot go in there and neither can the guards. It will mess up everything I’ve been working on with her.”

“She needs to be broken that bad, eh son?”

Nodding carefully, I look up at him insolently as I grip the glass firmly. “She’s a tough one to break, Sir.”

“Well, you know who her grandmother was right?”

I shake my head and sit, placing my glass on my leg and letting my fingers circle over the rim.

“Her grandmother was the great Augustine,” he says sarcastically.

I instantly stop the circular motion with my hand and listen to him ramble on about Augustine. She is one of the great few Vampire Witches. It’s said she single-handedly stopped a vampire war on the humans in 1654 and has been called for every conflict from then on.

“Well, that’s interesting to know,” I abruptly stand. “Oh, and by the way, I borrowed one of the blood whores and ended up taking too much from her, so you’re one short.”

Not caring, I throw the rest of my liquor in the fireplace and get a glimmer of satisfaction when I watch the fire shoot up. I set my glass on the table and nonchalantly walk out of his office and towards my room as if I wasn’t planning on backstabbing the man that made me into the evil uncaring person I am today. Picking up my phone, I dial the number of a friend who I know can help me, Mikail Tsarev. He’s a contract killer who’s worked for us before. I’ve had his back many times, and it’s time for me to call in that favor he owes me.

I listen to the phone ring and impatiently slam my fist into the wall, leaving a hole there. Shards of sheet rock litter the floor, but whatever, it’s a wall it can be replaced. After the eighth ring, he finally picks up the phone.

“What the hell took you so long to answer your phone?”

“Dude, I’m driving. Take a chill pill,” he says.

“I’m calling in that favor you owe me.” I sit on the bed pulling at a random blue string on the comforter.

Scoffing, Mikail laughs, “How do I owe you a favor?”

“How soon you forget the Audra incident.”

“Dude, I told you never to bring her name up again.”

“I never told anyone what she did to you, or how she left you handcuffed naked to the bed with a pair of her—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. What exactly do you need?”

Calming down the urge to laugh, I throw the blackmail pictures that I took before
uncuffing him from the bed into the fire, staring as the flames destroy them. “I need a safe place to hide with a girl, a girl that my father took prisoner, and one that I’m trying to keep safe.”

“No shit, your dad kidnapped a girl?” he asks curiously.

“Yep.”

“So the awesome Riley Dumont actually had to call me for help? Today’s my lucky day,” he says sarcastically.

“Why exactly are you doing all this for a girl?”

I ignore his last comment and snap at him, “Call or text me when you get the location for me.”

I hit the end button and throw the phone on the bed. I step to the window and watch the moon rise, trying to figure a way out of this crappy situation.