“I can help you,” she whispered.
“Not yet.”
Notever, but if he told her that, she would argue with him. He sensed a well of strength and determination running through her; she would rebel against being relegated to a lesser role than what she believed she could handle. It was a trait he admired when it wasn’t working against him.
However, judging by the fact she’d said “people” when they were discussing who had caught them, Mollie didn’t know about vampires, and he’d prefer to keep it that way. He certainly didn’t want her to witness what he planned to do to the bastards below, if they didn’t kill him first.
She didn’t know what she’d been plunged into, and if he could, he would keep the worst of his world from her.
You can make her do as you say.He could use his powers to make her stay here, but something inside him recoiled at the idea. It might be safer for her if he forced her to do his bidding, but he wouldn’t mess with her mind in that way.
“Stay here,” he said, “until I have a better idea what’s going on.”
Mollie hesitated before giving a small nod of agreement. Mike’s hand squeezed hers, and she leaned closer to absorb his warmth and strength.
“Be careful,” she whispered.
“I will.”
For some inexplicable reason, tears pricked her eyes when he pulled away and crept back toward the center of the loft.
Chapter Seven
Mike cautiously circledto the left. He stayed away from the ladder as he approached the edge of the hayloft and knelt there. Below, the vampires had split up and were ambling through the cluster of cages.
“Have you seen the piggies?” the man holding the gun asked, poking a woman in the ribs with it.
The woman cried out and pressed more firmly against the bars at the back of her cage. When she cowered in the corner and covered her head with her hands, the man laughed before strolling away. Mike realized the vamp wasn’t looking for an answer; he was merely relishing the torment of his victims. He, and all the others in the black coats, had to be Savages.
When Mike got his hands on that Savage, he was going to enjoy killing the bastard, and killing was not something he relished.
“Have you seen the piggies?” the Savage asked, shoving the barrel of the rifle into the face of a gawking, rail-thin man.
How long have some of them been here? Mike wondered as he surveyed the cages.
Long enough that some of the vampires and humans bordered on starvation. More than a few of them wore baggy clothes he suspected fit when they’d arrived here, and their cheekbones stood out against their pale, dirty skin. Either the Savages didn’t care about feeding the humans, or they didn’t want them to put up any fight when they turned the starving vamps loose on them.
A creak from behind him drew his attention away from the others. He expected to find Mollie hovering nearby; instead, he met the golden eyes of a black cat. Startled, the cat turned and fled into the shadows of the barn.
“Here piggy, piggy, piggy!” the man with the rifle taunted.
Mike turned back to find him pulling the gun out of the man’s face before continuing through the cages.
“Oh, piggy, where art thou?”
Mollie cringed when the man’s voice rang through the rafters until it came from everywhere at once. She poked her head around the bales of hay and stifled another sneeze when more dust drifted to her. Closing her eyes, Mollie pinched her nostrils as her eyes watered. What a fantastic time to discover she was allergic to hay.
I will not sneeze!
The words became a mantra in her head until the urge finally faded and tears streaked her cheeks. Opening her eyes again, she searched the loft for anything she could use as a weapon but saw nothing.
Crawling to the other end of the bales, she poked her head around that side and spotted Mike kneeling at the edge of the loft, watching the proceedings below.
“Little pig, little pig, let me in!” the man called in a booming, baritone voice.
His words echoed throughout again, but this time, Mollie pinpointed his location. Her gaze fell to the hay and dust-covered boards beneath her. If she was correct, then he wasrightbelow her.
“Not by the hair on my chinny, chin, chin!” the man yelled in a higher-pitched falsetto.
