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Except more humans would die.
“You knew her,” I accuse, continuing to watch him for signs. His face gives nothing away.
“I thought I did. Turns out, she wasn’t who I thought,” he shrugs all nonchalant, but it’s bullshit and I know it.
He’s definitely hiding something.
A knock sounds on the door and I call out, “Come in.”
“Sir, your donor is ready,” Sarcos says, bowing like an idiot.
“Shall we?” Law asks, motioning toward the door and effectively ending my questioning.
Whatever he’s keeping from me, I’ll get to the bottom of it, but for now, I need to get Marina out of here.
I sway on my feet, feeling lightheaded. Law’s hands come under my arm, helping to keep me standing.
“Whoa, brother. What’s going on?” he asks with a raised brow.
I jerk out of his grasp and smooth my suit back into place. “I’m fine. I need to get out of here,” I lie. Something is off. It has been since I drankherblood.
I wouldn’t admit that to Law, and certainly not here, where the walls undoubtedly have ears. We’ve already said too much. Law continues to stare; what he’s searching for I can only begin to imagine.
“What the fuck are you looking at?”
“You sure you’re okay?” he questions, and I scowl.
“I said I’m good. Let’s get out of here.” He nods, never taking his eyes off of me.
Law sees too much and it’s a real problem. There’s something connecting me to Marina Drake. I felt it the moment my eyes landed on her. I tasted it in her blood. The question is whether this connection is a good thing or a bad thing for me. By the way my stomach is turning and sweat beads at my temple, I can only assume it’s not good.
I need to figure out who this human girl is and why she has any hold over me.
Chapter Eight
Hazel eyes bore into me. Hungrily. He reaches out, brushing my hair from my neck. Leaning in, he runs the tip of his nose delicately up the arch of my neck, nipping lightly at my ear. A shiver of ecstasy works its way through me.
“Please,” I beg.
Trailing kisses down the same path, he stops at the crook of my neck and shoulder.
“You’re mine, Marina,” he whispers into my skin like a prayer.
The dream ends abruptly, and I’m left feeling cheated, in a fog of lust. I snuggle into the soft sheets that cover my body. The smell of lavender infiltrates my nostrils. I sigh in contentment, stretching my hands above my head and groaning at the exquisite stretch of my aching muscles. I run my hands down my face and my eyes flutter open.
An ornately decorated ceiling has me sitting up quickly and pulling the blankets tightly around me. My eyes dart wildly around the foreign space, searching for interlopers. This room may be worlds better than the cell, but it doesn’t stop my body from shaking uncontrollably. Perspiration builds on my upper lip and I wipe it away. The room is empty, save for the traditional bedroom furniture. Every item decorating the room is lavish and expensive-looking.
As the initial fear subsides, I’m able to truly appreciate the magnificence of the room. The four-poster bed I’m currently perched atop is rich mahogany that reaches almost to the top of a twelve-foot ceiling. The intricate carvings on the bed and large armoire are in the Baroque style. I know this from working in the antique store a town over from Liberty for an entire summer in junior high. It was my favorite job, and to this day I can still name certain pieces and styles because of it.
The windows are free of bars and sunlight streams in, surrounding me in warmth.
My momentary fascination with my newest prison quickly vanishes with the sight of the heavy wooden door. I rush from the bed, grabbing at the knob and twisting... but nothing happens. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I’m locked in. Obviously, they aren’t going to make this easy on me.
I spin around, my back hitting the door, and slide to the floor with a huff. My head falls backward, colliding roughly with the strong wooden frame, and I cry out. The tears come next, gliding down my cheeks in a river of frustration and hopelessness. I may be alive, but I’m trapped in a hell worse than death. The unknown claws away at the fortress I’ve built around my mind. All the awful possibilities play out in my head, worse than any horror movie I’ve dared to watch.
I know I’m living with the king of vampires and it’s only a matter of time before he comes for me. To feed from me. To eventually kill me.
“What do you want with me?” My vocal cords strain from the force with which the words are screamed. I know damn well what he wants, but I’d say anything to get him here. I’d rather we get started and the end come quickly. Why drag this out?
