Page 1 of You Only Die Twice

CHAPTER ONE

Katrina

Pillowy softness cradles my head, driving away the last vestiges of pain. A slight throb pounds away behind my eyelids, but I’ll take uncomfortable awareness to the nightmares still swirling inside my head like an unholy residue coating my skull. Groaning, I lift my arm up, letting it rest over my closed eyes as I dissect everything that’s still churning.

I’ve never claimed to be a psychiatrist, far from its. But, it doesn’t take a professional to know my fear of cruise ships, fueled by more alcohol than I probably should’ve had, sent me visions of my inner terrors as a nightmare from hell. What I’m still struggling with is why in the hell were there vampires?

To my knowledge, that’s never been a thing to push my buttons. Hell, even when vampires had been a romance craze, I was still stuck on the burly alpha men and the delicious things they could do to a woman. A bloodsucker never featured in my spank bank once. And Lizzy? Why would she be there?

Perhaps some deep-seated fear of her running off with that dungeon master niggled its way in there. It’s the only rational explanation. I turn to my side with another groan, determined to force myself back asleep. Perhaps this time, the dreams will be much more erotic and less terror-inducing.

Goosebumps explode over my skin as Lizzy’s face pops into my mind, blood oozing down her neck. The moment I draw my knee up to get more comfortable, I freeze. Terror slams into me as I test my leg once more, confirming that a heavy object encircles it.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.” The voice is a harsh rasp in the darkness. Familiar in some ways but foreign in others. The sound trips through my skull like nails raking across my brain.

The primal part of me, the one that insists I stay safe, wants to flee. The other part of me wants to melt under the heat of the commanding tone. It sounds so right, so perfect.

Turning my head back to the side, I force my eyes open, desperate to see who’s with me. It’s so like those horror movies where everything moves in slow motion yet too fast at the same time. The room is dim, and I can barely make out the shape of a man sitting against the wall opposite of me. Again, there’s something so familiar about him.

“Jackson?” Hysteria tinges my voice as I shift my foot about, trying to confirm for my brain that I’m well and truly trapped without setting him off again. What happened to him? To us?

“I said,” he growls, rising to his full height. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.” This time, I’m unable to resist the shudder as it wracks my body, driving my head towards my lap in an insane attempt to shield myself. I wrap my arms around my body in a desperate attempt to stop the shaking, but it doesn’t help. Nothing does.

My gut plummets as he stalks closer, and in the dim light, I can make out the murderous glint in his eyes. He wears the face and skin of Jackson, but those eyes…those eyes signal my doom. This isn’t the man I played with just hours before. Or was it days? I have no concept of time.

Nothing in here tells me anything. Am I still on the ship? Is this a part that I hadn’t visited before? The worst part of it all is the incessant throbbing in my head that tells me none of this is real. It’s a cotton-like buzzing that pervades every recess.

Every time I close my eyes, I’m sure the moment I open them, I’ll be back in my bed - safe and sound. But it never happens. Each blink, each moment of black solitude, gives way to the ever-painful reminder that this is either real or I can’t wake up. Why can’t I wake up?

I’m not stupid. I know what pure, unadulterated hate and lust look like. I’ve watched enough stalker movies to know the signs. Jackson stalks me as if I’m his prey. Had we been in the main dungeon with everyone else, that would be fine, but here alone? I don’t feel anything but terror.

Perhaps that’s his game? Maybe this is just one more kink in his repertoire. Any moment now, a curtain will drop, or the wall will fade away, revealing an audience. If this truly is a kidnapping scene, then he’s doing a damn good job. I thought I’d want something like this, but the reality is a bit too much.

How did he even get me down here? Did he drug me? That crosses a line for sure. Sitting up on my elbows, I take several calming breaths before leveling him my best glare. “Good job, Jackson. You had your fun, but I want it to be over with. Sanctuary. I demand sanctuary.”

A soft chuckle skitters up my spine from a different part of the room. Again, my body tenses as I peer around. I can’t see anyone, but I know they’re there, lurking somewhere in the shadows.

“Jackson?” My voice is no longer strong. It’s thin and reedy, pathetic, really. “Please. Help me.”

“Oh, he wants to, Katrina,” the strange voice barks out. “The fact that you’re still here in one piece is a testament to how badly he wants to save you from your fate.”

I peer up once more at Jackson, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his muscles bunch up and release. His fingers clench into fists, then he lets them go. Every line of his body is rigid.

“Jackson?”

“I wouldn’t worry about him right now. He’s doing a damn fine job of ignoring his natural urges to pounce on you and bleed you dry.”

“S-sanctuary?” I plead once more into the dimness. They said the ship was wired for that word. Someone should be here. Why is no one here? Spots dance before my eyes as my pulse races. Shallow breaths barely expand my chest before I’m once more exhaling and sucking in air.

Something is wrong. Very fucking wrong.

“Poor dear,” the voice confirms. “You still think you’re safe on that ship, don’t you? Well, know this, my little morsel; there is no sanctuary here. If you wish for clemency, then you better beg for it from me.”

The voice is much closer this time. The strange lilt to his voice trips about my brain until my mind can conjure up a face. That accent is so distinct that I’m not sure why I didn’t recognize him earlier. Fear has a way of confusing you, twisting your mind until all that’s left is the pounding of your heart and raspy, wheezing breaths of air.

Luka.

A jolt slams into me as his face comes into focus, my body twitching as memories flood my brain. I should have known from the moment I met him that he was dangerous. I should have listened to my gut. But no. I listened to my damned pussy instead. “Where’s Lizzy?” If I’m stuck in this awful place, what’s happening to her? Perhaps she got away?