Page 95 of Grayson’s Challenge

“Orlando…” The voice was Samson’s.

Grayson looked over his shoulder, and saw his father cast a pleading look at Orlando. “He doesn’t know you the way I do. Please, forgive him. He was only trying to save me and Cain.”

Orlando nodded. “I’m happy to see that you’re back.”

He stomped out of the room, and Grayson’s gaze was drawn to Cain. Faye was embracing him, while Zane and Cooper were watching them to make sure Cain didn’t collapse.

Grayson let his eyes roam, surprised that Monique wasn’t greeting her father. “Monique?” he called out, then looked at Isabelle. “Where’s Monique?”

Robbie entered from the hallway. “Striker and I searched the whole house.” Only now, Grayson noticed Striker Reed lurking in the hallway. “Monique is gone. And so is William.”

Grayson’s heart stopped. Everything around him seemed to turn as if he stood on a carousel, desperately trying to jump off. Panic paralyzed every cell of his body, and fear settled around his heart like a vice that became tighter with every passing second.

“No, not Monique, no!” he cried out, his eyes focusing again.

Only now, he realized that everybody was staring at him. He noticed pink tears run down Faye’s cheeks. Cain’s mouth set into a thin line, trying to hold back the pain.

Faye sobbed. “My baby. He has my baby.”

“Not for long,” Grayson promised. “I’ll get her back.” He inhaled a deep breath. “Monique is mine.” Stunned looks landed on him. He turned to face his father. “Monique and I blood-bonded a few hours ago.”

Several people gasped, but Grayson looked only at his father.

Samson’s mouth formed into a gentle smile. “You get her back, son. You’ll find her. Trust yourself. You can do it.”

Grayson nodded, before he closed his eyes to concentrate on the psychic bond he shared with his blood-bonded mate.

Monique! Monique! Babe, where are you? Please, I need to find you. Monique!

~ ~ ~

Monique felt the numbness in her extremities wane. It was replaced by a burning pain as if her veins were filled with acid. An odd sound had awoken her. She felt something soft beneath her, a bed or a thick blanket. Her eyelids were heavy. She lifted them nevertheless. For a short moment, she couldn’t remember what had happened. But then, it all came flooding back.

William had knocked her out by injecting something into her neck. He’d tossed her into the trunk of a car where she’d lost consciousness. She let her gaze roam. It was dark in the room, but it wasn’t musty-smelling or damp, which told her that she wasn’t in a basement. There was a large window covered with heavy curtains. She had no idea how long she’d been out. Was it still night?

She lay on a bed, fully dressed. She made an attempt to sit up, and she would have succeeded, if she hadn’t been chained to the bed’s headboard. She pulled on the chains in an attempt to free herself, but her skin sizzled, and she cried out in pain. The scent of burnt skin and hair rose to her nostrils and made her gag. Her chains were made of silver, a metal that burned a vampire, and one that she couldn’t break despite her preternatural strength.

She heard footsteps just outside the door to the room. Panic slithered down her spine like a snake.

Grayson! Grayson! Help me!

Could he hear her? Was her telepathic message reaching him?

The door suddenly opened, and light shone into the room from outside. She turned her head toward the door and saw the man she’d been warned about all her life: Abel. There was a self-satisfied grin on his face as he entered the room.

“Finally, you’re awake.”

He approached the bed, and Monique instinctively withdrew as far as the chains allowed her.

“I guess William injected you with a little too much dead man’s blood, or you wouldn’t have been unconscious for so long.”

“What do you want?” she spat.

Abel sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned in. “Well, isn’t that obvious?” He let out a sinister chuckle. “You look a lot like your mother.” He reached for her and twirled a lock of her long hair around his index finger.

“Don’t touch me!” The very thought made her nauseous.

“I’ll do much more than that.”