ROMAN: Fury of Her King (Kings of the Blood Book 2) (5 page)

Cyn’s vision immediately blurred as she was released from the
choke hold and slid down the seat in a less than glamorous slump. Every one of
her muscles, including those in her mouth, refused to respond as she fought to
remain conscious.

Her vision narrowed. Her mind became a muddled mess of anger,
fear, and confusion. Clumsily reaching for her purse, which contained her
cellphone and mace, Cyn fell back against the seat with a sad sigh. Whatever
drug had been injected into her system was fast acting and stronger than an ox.

Groaning when ‘Morticia’ pushed her purse to floor and closed the
distance between them, Cyn cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak.
Frustration caused her clenched hands to shake in her lap when she could only
whisper, “Why?” while blinking her eyes and attempting to chase away the
shadows. She wanted more than anything to regain just a bit of focus, but
nothing helped. Her hostess’s drawn features were wavy and out of focus when
the bitch shook her head and chuckled sarcastically while taking Cyn’s chin
between her bony fingers and whispering, “You let me worry about why. All you
need to remember is my name is Valentina…and Roman Marinos is mine.”

Well damn…

Chapter Four

“Waking up chained to a bed after being kidnapped on the way to a
dinner date sure looks sexier when Charlise Theron does it on the big screen,”
Cyn complained to herself, huffing her bangs out of her face and turning her
head as far as she could to see if she was alone.

With her hands tied over her head and a wall to her left, her view
was less than optimal, but what she saw made her cringe. Valentina and Laurent,
if that was his real name, had left her in a basement of some sort with dirty
water dripping from a rusty pipe, trash piled in the corner, and the distinct
smell of urine that assured Cyn she was squatting in someone’s makeshift home.
The skittering of tiny claws across the concrete floor did nothing to ease her
nerves, and neither did the sounds of footsteps overhead or the cloying scent
of her hostess’ horrific perfume.

“You’d think she could at least smell like something besides overripe
fruit and week old flowers. I thought maniacal villainesses were supposed to
have good taste.” Cyn smiled at her wit, glad she could still joke considering
the circumstances.

Shifting her hips, it became immediately apparent the rat bastards
who’d tied her to the bed had also chained her feet. The rub of steel against
her bare ankles and the clang of metal on metal made the now incredibly
frustrated pharmaceutical rep curse under her breath. “Well, I’ll be damned.
This party is getting weirder by the minute.” Grumbling under her breath as the
sound of a large wooden door scraping across the concrete floor echoed through
the space, Cyn bit her tongue and waited for the appearance of Valentina, who
no matter what, she still thought of as Morticia Addams.

At least her wait wasn’t long, but what the nasty bitch said made
Cyn want to slap her across the face. “Glad to see you’re awake. Not so tough,
are we, little 
fýlakas tis kardiás mou. 
You would think the
great god Zeus would’ve made you of sturdier stock considering you’re to mate a
King and live forever.”

Okay….

Now doubting Valentina’s mental stability along with her good
judgement, Cyn looked at the creepy woman and asked, “What the hell are you
talking about? Did you drink your own crazy Kool-aid? And what is a ‘flaky
cards moo’? Something all your buds at the funny farm are playing in their
spare time?”

Chuckling like they were old friends while ignoring all of Cyn’s
questions, Valentina sat her skinny bum on the edge of the rickety cot, crossed
her legs, and patted Cyn’s thigh. “Oh darling, we have so much to discuss. I
forgot that your 
sýntrofos
 hasn’t gotten around to explaining
everything to you yet.”

Removing her hand before batting her eyes and picking at imaginary
lint on the knee of her black pencil skirt, Valentina mocked, “Isn’t Roman such
a silly man?” Sighing, she continued with an evil glint in her eye, “It’s a
good thing he has me to pick up the slack as I always have for my King.”

Standing, Valentina motioned for Laurent to come out of the
shadows. “Let’s get our dear Cynthia up. I believe there’s a chair over there
that you can use. I think the shackles on her ankles will be enough.” She
looked back to Cyn, wrinkled her nose, and finger waved like they were buds
before continuing, “After all, we want her to be as comfortable as possible
while we talk.”

Walking towards the door, she added over her shoulder, “Oh, and
Laurent, please make sure she gets something to eat and drink. Wouldn’t want
her wasting away. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Listening to the sounds of Valentina’s pointy-toed stilettos tap
against the wooden steps had Cyn trying to conjure an escape plan. She liked
Roman…
a lot
. Had dreamt about being with him for years, but if dating
the great Mr. Marinos meant dealing with Mentally Deranged Mortica Addams, then
Cyn was ready, willing, and able to walk away. No man, no matter how
good-looking, was worth all this crap.

Watching Laurent pull a large wooden chair that had seen better
days out of the dark, Cyn decided all she could do was try to convince the
large silent man to let her go. It was obvious Valentina had some kind of hold
over him but maybe, just this once, luck would be on her side.

Looking down her body as Laurent knelt at the foot of the cot to
unlock the chains, Cyn asked, “Why are you doing this? You know I did nothing
wrong.”

A low grunt was Laurent’s only response as she moved to the other
side of the bed. Deciding her only course of action was to keep trying, she
said, “If this is about money, you have to know I mean nothing to Roman
Marinos. This was our first dinner date. He doesn’t know me from Adam.” Then
she added with a conspiratorial whisper, “I think he just feels sorry for me
cause I came from a one-horse town in the middle of nowhere.”

“Not about money,” the chauffeur’s barely audible grumble was his
only response as he stood and walked to the head of the bed.

“Then what is it about?” Blowing her bangs out of her eyes again
with the hopes of seeing her captor’s face, she added in her best begging tone,
“Please, Laurent, help me understand why this is happening.”

His fingers fumbled with the knot holding her wrists to the rail
at the top of the cot as he blew out a long, low breath and muttered something
in what sounded like the same language Valentina sporadically used. Holding her
breath, waiting for him to say something, 
anything
, Cyn’s
impatience won out and before she could engage her brain, her mouth was ranting
like the crazy woman she was sure to become. “Why won’t you talk to me? You
know I have no clue what’s going on. You’re the one that picked me up and was
supposed to take me to Roman’s house but instead stuck a needle in my neck and
trussed me up like grandpa’s first kill of the season. I’m being treated like a
hostage but you say it’s not about money. I’ve been drugged, tied up, left in a
stinky basement, and now I’m gonna have to listen to ‘Morticia’ drone on and on
and 
you
 won’t even give me a clue about what is happening
here. It’s just not right!”

Gulping for breath, Cynthia thought about cackling like a loon
when Laurent’s only response was, “Who is Morticia?”

Instead she screamed, “That’s all you have to say?” She felt like
her head was going to explode. “Who is Morticia? Really?”

Shaking her head, she mumbled to herself, “There is no way this is
really happening….no freaking way.” Sure she’d slipped down the rabbit hole and
was being escorted through her latest nightmare by Tweedledum, Cyn took a deep
breath, then added in a much calmer tone, “I meant Valentina, you big
doofus…Freudian slip.” Another breath. “Sorry for the confusion.” Rolling her
eyes, she grumbled, “Not sure why I’m apologizing to you, but there you have
it, good manners and all that happy horse crap. Grandpa would be proud.”

Without any preamble or any indication he’d heard a word she’d
said after her answer to his dumbass question, Laurent bent down,
unceremoniously threw Cyn over his shoulder, turned, and plopped her into the
rickety wooden chair with the missing arm just as he’d been instructed. While
she was trying to catch her breath and stop the room from spinning after her
unexpected upside-down ride over Lurch’s shoulder, he proceeded to unwrap the
rope from her wrists, throw it over his shoulder, then kneel at her feet and
chain her to the chair.

When he stood, he looked at her and asked, “Would you prefer iced
tea or water?”

Rubbing her rope-burnt wrists and rolling her shoulders to relieve
the stiffness from having them over her head for what seemed like forever, Cyn
decided her only course of action was to play along, so she answered, “Iced
tea, two sugars, please.”

As he walked away, she added, “With a hacksaw and a
get-outta-jail-free card too, please,” under her breath.

Looking over his shoulder before walking out the door, he asked,
“Excuse me?”

“Oh nothing,” she sing-songed with a healthy dose of sarcasm while
imagining beating him over the head with a baseball bat. “And to think I
thought he was good-looking. What 
was
 I thinking?”

With a better view of her surroundings, Cyn was even more repulsed
than before. It was obvious 
several
 people had been bedding
down in the dank, dark basement. There were remnants of sleeping bags and
blankets, pieces of cardboard scattered about, and more junk food wrappers than
a high school cafeteria. There were several small windows at the very top of
one wall, which allowed her to see that the sun was coming up and to assume
they were somewhere abandoned by the total absence of people or noise.

“Well, shit, won’t do any good to scream for help. Guess I’m stuck
here waiting to see exactly what it is that ‘Morticia’ and ‘Lurch’ want with
me.” She talked to herself to avoid thinking about the continued scratching of
tiny claws coming from the dark corner on the far side of the room.

Thinking of Roman and her missed date made Cyn madder than she’d
been in a long time. She was really looking forward to getting to know him, to
see if he was anything like she imagined him to be. “He sure can kiss better
than I ever imagined,” she thought out loud with a smile.

Remembering their passionate encounter in explicitly erotic
detail, she was still grinning when Laurent reappeared carrying a tray of food
with a large glass of iced tea in one hand and a folding TV tray in the other.
Setting the table in front of her then the tray on top of it, he pointed at the
food, “It’s turkey. Please have something to eat and drink. You need it to
flush the drugs from your system.”

Scowling, she looked at him like he’d once and for all lost his
ever-loving mind and spat,” You mean the drugs you put into my system?”

Looking truly sorry for his part in whatever was going on, the
chauffeur turned kidnapper hung his head, “Look, I’m really sorry about all
this. You’ve gotten involved in something that has absolutely nothing to do
with you.” Looking at the door, then leaning forward, he whispered, “Valentina
hasn’t always had a good life. Mr. Marinos saved her from a terrible fate and I
guess,” the big man looked at his feet and cleared his throat before
continuing, “well, I guess she’s just gotten too attached. Besides, there’s a
history there that is older than all of us combined. 
Oikogéneias
érchontai próta 
has always been her motto.”

Cynthia could see the turmoil in his eyes as he added, “And now
that you’re here and reality is staring her in the face, she’s just snapped. I
really never…”

His worlds were cut off by the sound of a door opening and closing
on the upper level and Valentina calling, “Laurie, I’m back.” Without another
word, Laurent wiped all emotion from his eyes and face, stood, and walked out
of room and up the stairs.

Wondering exactly what the hell to make out of what had just
transpired, what the hell he’d tried to tell her in whatever language he spoke
in and exactly what she and reality had to do with Valentina’s level of
insanity, Cyn picked up half of the sandwich she’d just been served and sniffed
the cut edge. It smelled like nothing more than turkey and wheat bread, so
since she was absolutely famished after not eating anything but a few crackers
the day before and missing out on dinner last night, she took a big bite.
Humming at how good something so simple tasted, she had one more taste before
having a drink of tea and curling her nose. It was cold and wet but that was
about all she could say. It tasted as if the lemons might have been a day or so
past their sell by date.

“It ain’t dinner at a mansion with a millionaire but it’s better
than starving,” she mused as she finished the partial sandwich and iced tea
almost a full minute before the sound of stilettos striking wood reached her
ears.

“Oh great, round two with Morticia.” The words were barely out of
her mouth before Valentina came into view with the same smirk Cyn had seen
before and yet another form-fitting black dress and overzealous amount of red
lipstick. Preparing for the witch’s opening remarks, Cyn clenched her fists.

“Oh good, you’re eating. I wouldn’t want you to think us less than
hospitable.” Valentina’s accent was more pronounced than before and if Cyn
wasn’t mistaken, she seemed a little nervous.

Needing to know what had changed, she responded with her patented
snark. “Oh, the chains around my ankles and the drugs in my neck took care of
any ideas I had about your hospitality.”

Valentina struck a pose as if she was waiting for a photographer
and attempted to intimidate Cynthia with a glare and a sneer. Never one to
yield to bullying even when being held captive, Cyn stared back with a cock of
her head and her best I-don’t-give- crap look. Their standoff continued until
Laurent appeared with a foldout chair for Valentina.

Exposing her leg to mid-thigh via the deep slit in her skirt as
she crossed her legs, Valentina placed her hands in her lap and looked back
with the phoniest smile Cyn had ever seen before saying, “I understand your
confusion and I am 
sure
 the chains are uncomfortable, but
would you have listened to me had I not gone to such extreme measures?”

“We’ll never know, will we?” Cyn crossed her arms and shook her
head, preparing for whatever information Valentina felt was important enough to
include kidnapping.