Dead Sexy (37 page)

After ten minutes of intense concentration, she felt the rope on her right wrist loosen just a little. Hope soared through her and she tugged harder, ignoring the pain of the rope cutting into her skin and the blood dripping down her arm.

One last hard pull and her wrist slipped free. Sitting up, she quickly untied her other hand and got off the bed. After tiptoeing to the window, she drew back the curtain and peered outside.

A number of small square houses were arranged around a central courtyard. There was a fountain in the center. Two young girls sat in the shade of a huge tree. One was reading a book, the other was playing with a doll. Tall trees rose behind the houses across the way, their branches interwoven, their trunks so close together that nothing was visible beyond them.

Tiptoeing to the bedroom door, Regan opened it a crack and looked out. She didn't see anyone or hear anything. Opening the door wider, she made her way down the short hallway to the living room. It, too, was empty.

Squaring her shoulders, she opened the front door and stepped outside. The two girls looked up. Regan smiled at them. After a moment, they smiled back and then returned to what they were doing before. Regan walked casually to the corner of the house, as if she had every right to be there, and then walked without hurry toward a heavily wooded area located behind the house.

Once Regan was out of sight of the girls, she began to run. She didn't know where she was running to, but any place had to be better than where she was.

She ran until she was out of breath and her legs felt like rubber. With one hand pressed against her aching side, she dropped to the ground and closed her eyes. She had to find help, but where? And where was she?

Lifting her head, Regan glanced around. Trees. Nothing but trees and a tall mountain in the distance—a mountain with a castle on top. She frowned, thinking that the castle looked vaguely familiar. Something to do with Dracula… it couldn't be his castle, she thought. That one lay in ruins, but it was said that Dracula had stayed at another castle. Was this the one? It was quite lovely, with rusty colored turrets and lots of windows.

Rising, she began to walk rapidly, going deeper into the forest. In an effort to avoid thinking about Vasile or the fact that he might be after her, she tried to recall everything she had read about Dracula. While learning to be a vampire hunter, she had studied the famous count's life, since there were some who believed he had been the first vampire. Though he had been a cruel, unforgiving man, he was hailed as a hero for defending Walachia against the invasion of the Turks centuries ago. It was said that on one occasion, when foreign emissaries refused to remove their turbans in his presence, Dracula nailed their turbans to their heads. Of course, he was famous, or infamous, for impaling hundreds of his enemies for various crimes, a punishment that resulted in days of excruciating agony for the victims.

Regan walked for what must have been hours, until she couldn't take another step, and then she walked some more, woodenly placing one foot in front of the other, her fear of being caught by Vasile stronger than her growing thirst.

Vasile shook Zina's shoulders. "Where is she?" he demanded. "What have you done with her?"

"I didn't do anything." She spat the words at him. "She was there the last time I looked."

"How long ago was that?"

"I don't know. Two hours ago, maybe three."

He shook her again. "How long?"

"A little after noon."

Four hours ago! With an oath, Vasile flung the woman away from him. She staggered backward, striking her head against the wall. The smell of blood filled the air.

Without waiting to see if Zina was alive or dead, Vasile stormed out of the house, his body shifting as he went. Outside, he sniffed the ground, his nostrils quickly picking up the woman's scent.

He would have her before nightfall.

He was coming.

Fear lent wings to Regan's feet but she was too tired, too thirsty, and too hungry to sustain it for long. She had been a fool to think she could outrun a werewolf. With his increased senses, he would find her no matter where she went, and out here, in this seemingly endless forest, there was nowhere to hide.

She was scrambling up a slight incline when her legs refused to support her any longer. With a sigh of resignation, she dropped to the ground, overcome with a sense of doom and a sudden fear that she had been running in circles for the last few minutes.

Closing her eyes, she prayed for strength and courage, and then, holding onto a tree, she gained her feet and staggered onward. She had no doubt that Vasile would find her, but she wasn't going to surrender without a fight!

She was crossing a stream when the wind shifted and she caught Vasile's scent. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a fair-haired wolf loping effortlessly toward her. With a wild cry, she darted across the stream and scrambled up the other side, her weariness forgotten as she ran for her life.

She screamed when his weight slammed into her back, cried out in pain as his momentum carried her to the ground. She landed face-first. Lights exploded behind her eyes. Grunting softly, she struggled to wriggle out from under him, but it was no use. Tears of pain and frustration filled her eyes as she realized there was no escape.

She lay there, unmoving, trying to get her breath back.

And then she felt his body shift.

She made one last effort to escape, shrieked when his hand closed around her ankle, dragging her backward across the rough terrain.

Effortlessly, he flipped her over, then straddled her hips, his hands pinning her arms above her head.

"Did you really think you could escape me?" he asked.

She stared up at him, refusing to answer, refusing to give him the satisfaction of begging for mercy. She knew it would only amuse him.

"Go on," she said, "kill me and get it over with."

"Kill you?" He laughed in her face. It was a dark, ugly sound. "I'm not going to kill you. Don't you know it's against pack law to kill a member of the pack? And you, my dear, are a member of my pack now. I made you, and I'm sworn to protect you. And protect you I will."

"What are you going to do with me?"

He cupped her chin in his palm and gave it a painful squeeze. "Do with you? You're going to take Marishka's place at my side." He laughed that ugly laugh again. "I'm going to make you my queen."

Regan stared at him. His queen? She would rather be dead. Screaming, "No, no!" she began to struggle against him again.

"Yes," he said, his voice and his gaze as hard as iron. "Tomorrow night, when the moon rises, you will become my bride."

Santiago hated flying. He wasn't sure why—perhaps because he wasn't in control of the aircraft, or perhaps because a plane crash usually involved flaming wreckage, and fire was one of the few things he feared and respected.

But he would have walked through the fires of hell itself to find Regan. He drummed his fingers on the armrest, willing the plane to go faster, hating the hours and the miles that separated him from his bride. She had been at Vasile's mercy since yesterday. The very thought filled him with an ever-increasing sense of dread. What sort of revenge would the werewolf exact from her? Would he kill her quickly, or torment her? There were so many ways to inflict pain on both body and soul, and Vasile knew them all.

Regan. He could no longer envision a world, or the rest of his existence, without her in it. He had become accustomed to having her around. He loved her laugh, lived for her smile, hungered for the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, the sweet taste of her lips. Regan. She would be his bride now but for Vasile's unending hatred and his perpetual need for vengeance…

Santiago swore under his breath. What right did he have to condemn Vasile when he, himself, had once been guilty of the same relentless need for revenge? But his eternal longing for revenge had been snuffed out in his love for Regan.

He clung to the faint hope that she was still alive, certain that he would know if she wasn't.

"Hang on, Regan," he murmured. "I will find you."

Wracked with fear for her safety, he began to pace the plane's narrow aisle, his hunger growing with his agitation.

Would this flight never end!

There was less than an hour to sunrise when the plane landed. Santiago opened the emergency door and leaped out of the plane before it had stopped on the runway.

He found shelter in the cool earth beneath a stand of timber moments before the sun's light brightened the horizon.