Deadly Captive (20 page)

I was ready to do anything to get a little more time.

* * * * *

The large door, one of the only visible ones in the hall, towered over me. None of the other times they'd brought me here had I taken such minute notice of it as I did now, waiting where Chrissie had left me with the guards to be summoned into the arena.

Chrissie promised me I'd see Cyrus. She'd also informed me it was a full house tonight. Whatever I said to Cyrus would be before an audience.

My prospects were becoming rather bleak.

"Nervous?" A hand curved around my waist.

I jumped, not having sensed his approach.

Cyrus wasn't inside the arena at all. "You wanted to see me?"

"Where's Joe?" My tone was sharp. I cursed myself. So much for humbly begging him to spare my life.

Smiling, Cyrus reached out and twirled one of my loose curls around his finger.

"Oh, you'll see him. Very soon, actually."

Another show. I had already guessed as much.

I swallowed and licked my lips. "Is he okay?" I'd managed to keep my voice soft this time.

It didn't seem to change a thing. My abruptness hadn't fazed Cyrus. Neither did my deference. He simply nodded. "Joe's fine." He gave me a look dripping with condescension. "Was that all?"

I shook my head. "No. Actually I wanted to say—"

Cyrus covered my mouth with his hand. "Hush. I know, but don't. It will ruin the image I have of you, that fierce defiance that broke through my aloof front." He stroked his fingers down my cheek. "I have to admit that I admire you for it. I won't ever forget you."

That said, Cyrus opened the door and gestured me inside. I went, expecting him to follow.

But the door shut securely behind me.

The room had changed again. The glass walls were reflective now so the crowds beyond were unseen. The bed was still there, as were the tables, freshly laid with whips and twisted toys. The light was dim, and, for a moment, I wondered how the audience would see a thing. I dismissed the thought, realizing they would probably be able to see everything even if the room was pitch-black. They didn't suffer from my limitations.

I walked to the center of the room, feet away from the bed, turning slowly, my reflection revealing my uncertainty. I didn't know what they wanted or what they were waiting for. Anticipation was thick in the air. I could almost taste it. Something was coming. But what?

A figure moved behind me in the reflective glass. I turned. I saw nothing. A low growl sounded behind me. Perfectly still, I waited, still monitoring the mirrored glass. I could see a large form approach me. For a moment, I didn't recognize him. Then I saw his face.

"Joe." A grateful whisper. I felt at ease.

He turned me to face him. The relief died when I looked in his eyes. There was nothing in them. No recognition, no love. Abruptly, light began to glow in the steel depths. And recognition, not of me, but of what I now was to him. Food.

I took a step back. "Joe."

Right then, I knew exactly what they had done to him. Backing away, I watched him stalk toward me, a smile on his lips as he matched pace with my slow retreat. The bed prevented me from going any further. He pressed against me, bending his head to sniff at my neck. I closed my eyes, tears rimming my lashes as I groped for a way to get through to him.

Words sputtered out when he opened his mouth against my flesh. "Please, don't.

Joe . . . remember—"

Tongue teasing along a throbbing vein in my neck, he let out a rough exhale.

"You smell so good."

I put my hands against his chest, trying futilely to hold him back. "Joe, listen to me. You're more than this, you can fight it . . . ."

The points of his fangs pressed down, not yet breaking the flesh. I had a feeling he wanted to savor my fear. Any chance of stopping him was fading fast. He was going to kill me. The only hope I had was to end it quickly. Sliding my hands up over his shoulders, I clasped my hands around the back of his neck and pulled him to me. If this was how I was going to die, then I wanted to do it before I had to face what he had become.

He pressed down a little more. The very tips of the razor sharp fangs pierced my flesh. His tongue lapped the tiny trickle of blood.

"Slow down, Joe." The commanding voice came at us from all around. I recognized it immediately as Cyrus'. Joe went still. "Play with her first, then you may feed. These good people paid for a show."

Joe's low growl went right through me. "I'm hungry."

I tried to push myself harder against him, urging him on. It was no use. Joe had already turned his face. I watched his angry glare through the reflection.

Laughter rang down. "Good. Then you'll do as you're told. You might have noticed, Joe, you can do nothing unless I permit it."

With another feral growl, Joe shoved me back onto the bed. I shook my hair away from my face and dragged myself back, the weight of my skirts making it difficult to move. They tangled around my legs, and I whimpered in frustration and fear when Joe languorously crawled onto the bed, latching onto my ankle to prevent me from slipping further away.

Jerking at my foot, I tried to free myself, but Joe's grip was as solid as a shackle.

He smiled indulgently, moving over me. Defeated, I dropped back, letting him cover me with his large form. My strength had barely been a match for Joe's before.

Compared to his power now, it was negligible. There was no way I was going to best him. The best I could hope for was that he wouldn't hurt me too much before he killed me.

Joe's warm breath caressed my skin. His cheek pressed to mine, he let out a soft chuckle. "Don't tell me you're giving up already, Lydia."

Turning my head, I scowled at the wall. "There's nothing left to fight for."

Hand still wrapped around my ankle, Joe pressed up. I let my leg bend, hissing in a breath as he stroked his hand up my thigh. He kissed my cheek. "Just let it happen."

My body went stiff. My mind raced. I recalled the last time he had said that to me. The first time he'd saved my life. I had a feeling Joe was trying to tell me something.

Trust was still there, deep-set, fairly tangible. But it was a trust for Joe. It was hard to tell if there was anything of him left in the creature pressed against me. I decided to test it. "There was something you wanted to tell me. When you thought you were going to die . . . ."

Brow pressed against the side of my face I felt, rather than saw, his slight nod.

"My name. I still want to hear you say it. Softly, though." I gave a quick nod of accord.

Like a hot breeze tracing into my hair, reaching parts of my body that missed him so very much, his name came to me. "Daederich."

So strange, but somehow it felt as though his name was a key, unlocking the final barrier between us. I could feel him, a connection deep and untouchable by any beyond us.

Faith completely restored, I relaxed against the bed. "Can I save it for . . . the right time?"

Joe, as I would continue to see him as until his true name left my lips, gave me a covert smile. "I'd like that very much." His face changed abruptly. Rising up on his knees, he yanked me up by the front of my dress, roughly pushing down the material to free my breasts. He spoke even as he buried his face between them. "Stop looking so damned content. Either fight me, or pull what you did with Cyrus . . . ." He gazed up to me, his lips close to my nipple. It was hard to think when all I wanted was for him to suck me into his mouth. Joe noticed and obliged me by circling a taut nipple with his tongue. "You know pissing off Cyrus wasn't the smartest thing you've ever done."

I nodded, closing my eyes and bowing back, giving in to the tantalizing sensation. "I'm sorry."

Joe shook his head. "Not yet you're not."

With that, he bit down.

I yelped and sat up, slamming my hand against his chest without thinking and sliding out from under him. Glaring at him, I caught the roguish grin he was giving me and silently cursed him. He had made the choice for me when it had become obvious I couldn't make it for myself. Which meant, as of this moment, I had to do my best to make it seem as though I was resisting him. Not what I wanted, at all, but it was a little too late to protest now.

Accepting the role I'd been handed, I decided to get him back by playing it out fully. A tug on the front of my dress and I quickly hid my breast away, side stepping around the bed so I could keep him in my sights as I put distance between us.

Braced up on one arm, Joe watched me, a predatory glint in his eyes. I sprinted to one of the tables and grabbed a large paddle. Faster than the eye could follow, Joe was before me, his hand around mine, squeezing my fingers hard against the handle.

Clucking his tongue, he grinned at me. "Interesting choice, Lydia. I know you enjoyed it last time."

I kicked him in the shin, an ineffective kick because of the soft slippers I was wearing, though it would probably have been in any case. "Fuck you, Joe. What is it, are you afraid you can't take me anymore without force?"

He laughed. "I don't need to use force, my sweet. But I will because I know how wet it makes you."

Teeth gritted together, I tried to free my hand. "Nothing about you nasty bloodsuckers makes me wet."

A sharp tug brought me hard against his chest. "You know that's not true, Lydia.

Do you think I've forgotten how easy it was for Bruno to get you dripping for him? He had you bent over without a whisper of protest." I bit my lip, noting the twinge of bitterness in his tone. He kissed my nose, a move that appeared patronizing, but I knew what he was doing. He was letting me know the bitterness was feigned. "If it helps your pride to fool yourself then I'll allow it. I won't even gloat when you're writhing under me, begging for it."

Scoffing, I tried to wrench away from him. "How very fucking generous."

"I can be." He nuzzled his face against my throat. I closed my eyes, suddenly wishing he'd bite down. Memories of how good it felt to be fed from when it wasn't done in violence shook the defiance from me. "Do you want me to do it?"

Yes, I thought. I managed to shake my head, but the lie wouldn't pass my lips.

"Not yet, Joe!" Cyrus sounded angry. This obviously wasn't going as he'd planned.

Warm lips parted against my flesh. No teasing now. He bit down. The intense feel of him sucking down immediately overtook the pain. My hot blood pooled into his mouth, and I could feel him swallowing. Without parting from me, he pulled down the dress in a smooth, sure motion. I didn't protest when he lifted me, carrying me to the bed.

I expected him to enter my body, already moist and ready for him, as easily as he had slid his fangs into my flesh. Instead, he stroked his hands down my sides, lifting me against his still fully clothed body, drinking ever deeper. I felt weakness take me and moaned in complaint, wanting him to stop before he went too far. He didn't stop. I didn't have the strength left to panic.

Fear boiled within. He was going to kill me.

Just as darkness took my vision, he slipped from me, licking the wound closed. I heard him stand, heard his clothes fall to the floor. He turned me over. My body was still wet, and he drove into me with a deft motion, his whole body pressed over mine. I managed a whimper, wishing I could enjoy what appeared to be my last moments of life. Joe bent down and turned my head so he could kiss my lips.

"Say it, Lydia." He urged.

I didn't think I could manage it. Mouth open, I paused. Pain seared through my veins. I closed my eyes against it. The best I could get out was a whisper. "Daederich."

Daederich smiled at me when I opened my eyes, showing me he'd heard me. I watched him lift his wrist to his mouth, gashing open his flesh with his teeth. "Good girl." He pressed his wrist to my mouth. "Now drink. Quickly."

The copper warmth spilling into my mouth almost made me gag. But instinct took over, and I found myself latched onto him, drawing out as much as I could.

I heard the shouting in the background. "Stop! Damn you, I said stop!"

My body seized, and I curled in against the pain in my gut. Daederich kissed my hair, drawing from me, holding me as the change overtook my body. The way my blood fired inside me, I felt as though my flesh would melt away. I tried to arch back.

Daederich's strong arms kept me still until the gripping force calmed, leaving me still and weak. But alive.

"You'll regret this, Joe. I'm going to make you watch us tear her apart." Cyrus's voice snapped out, sounding so close, though I knew he hadn't come any closer.

Leaving me to compose myself on the bed, Daederich stood, spreading his arms wide. "Come on then, Cyrus. Come teach me a lesson for my defiance." He let out a mocking laugh. "But for future notice,
sire
, it's Daederich. You couldn't draw out such a simple thing as my real name, even when I was mortal. What kind of power do you really think you have over me now?"

In the silence, I felt cool control return to me. Sitting up, I held the sheet to my chest, level breaths drawn in and released as I regained my bearings, knowing I had little time to accustom myself to the distraction of my finely tuned senses.

Daederich turned to me. Smiling his encouragement, he unbuttoned his black silk shirt, draping it over my shoulders. He pressed a soft kiss on my brow. "There's a pair of jeans under the pillow. Hurry."

I nodded. Slipping my arms through the sleeves of his shirt, I rolled off the bed even as I did up the buttons, reaching under the pillow to grab the aforementioned jeans. Daederich had been right about hurrying. Perched on the edge of the bed, jeans barely up to my knees, I heard the order. I pushed away from the bed and tugged them up the rest of the way.

"Kill them!" Cyrus was shouting. The doors, one of them for each wall, opened wide.

Daederich tossed me a whip. I caught it, then abruptly let it fall to my feet. My hand itched for something else entirely.

A hand came across my face, clawed so when the palm hit my chin the nails raked down my cheek. My eyes snapped toward the female figure who had struck me.