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Ottavia
chapter one
They say hell hath no fury like a pissed-off woman, and Eoin Ó Ceallaigh was about to feel the full force of my wrath.
Kidnapping me on the day of my brother’s funeral was a true low, one I hadn’t even suspected the monster to be capable of. I guess I should’ve lowered my expectations to where he would be as soon as my father discovered what he’d done: buried six feet under.
A gaggle of his men surrounded me, herding me toward their vehicles like I was a feral horse. Some were human, most were beasts, and many had teeth bared as they struggled to contain me within a circle of their bodies. I might have been short, but I was not a small woman, and I was viciously thrashing around, making it difficult for them to keep a hold of me, unless they were willing to injure me.
It seemed like they weren’t, which was important information to have.
Because when you were fighting for your life and one opponent was willing to fight to the death, it gave that opponent a distinct advantage.
My body shook, drenched with fear. The vampires’ irises were bleeding red, a sure sign their monster was close to the surface when they got a good whiff of the pure terror I was blowing off. I balanced on the balls of my feet and jerked my arms, shaking the tension out of my hands as I tried to get into a defensive stance.
But it was a weak one.
I was panting too hard, too keyed up on adrenaline from the surprise attack. I had to focus on slowing my pounding heart. Adrenaline was a great tool, but it could also hinder more than it helped at times.
I could hear my trainer’s voice ringing in my ears, reminding me of the adage, ‘You don’t rise to the occasion, you rise to the level of your training.’ And Ihadthe training. I might not have had as much real-world experience as these vamps, but my formative years were spent honing my body into a veritable weapon.
So even as I took in my surroundings in quick split-second glances, looking for an exit, looking for an ally, and subsequently finding none, I focused internally on slowing my rapid breathing. I focused on my breaths until the only sound I heard was my brother’s voice in my head, repeating one word, over and over and over.Fight, fight, fight.
So I did.
I smiled, something wicked and vicious, sharp as a knife as it cut across my face. The smile my father made while he tore people apart.
These men were going to die today.
I felt the knowledge burn through me, feeling as keen as a premonition.
A murder of crows circled above, cawing their displeasure. The wind blew, sending my dark hair streaming over my eyes and I automatically ducked, instinctively knowing a hand would be reaching for me when my vision was obscured. I felt the displacement of air and heard the whoosh of a fist right where my face had been a moment prior.
With my palms pressed to the damp earth for balance, I swept a foot across the ground, taking my human attacker’s legs out from under him. He fell with a pained grunt. My hand scrabbled on the ground and found a rock. I smashed it into his temple, once, twice, a third time before my wrist was caught in a punishing grip. The rock was torn from my grasp. A vampire snarled in my face, eyes bleeding crimson. His fangs glistened with spittle.
I spared a glance for his fallen companion. The man’s temple was a bleeding mess, and I thought I could see the milk-whiteness of his skull. I grimaced and turned back to the vampire snarling in my face. I tilted my chin up at a haughty angle.
“Blood of your buddy got you hot, huh?” I leaned closer, wondering when my fear had fled and left this boldness in its place. “You’re a disgusting beast.” It was a mere whisper, but it landed like a gunshot.
The vampire’s hand whipped out and his fingers laced my throat like a collar. He dragged me to my feet; I gurgled as I struggled to breathe against the pressure of his palm. My nails dug into his flesh as I desperately scratched for purchase.
His breath was metallic and foul, a rotten penny tang that stung my nostrils as he hauled me close to him, the toes of my shoes trailing in the dirt. “You’re a nasty little cunt. I can’t wait until the boss bleeds you dry and tosses your used-up carcass out for the ghouls to feast on.”
A shudder racked my frame. My eyes bulged. Just as my vision was beginning to blur, he loosened his grip, dropping me to the ground in a graceless heap.
“Stop fooling around and grab the bitch,” he ordered, straightening his ill-fitting suit jacket, as if that would help. “Boss’ll be wondering why we aren’t on the road yet.” He glanced around nervously, as if to make sure the boss in question wasn’t lurking around to see him and his goons struggling to kidnap a five-foot-nothing woman.
I took that as my cue to try and make a break for it. Logically, I knew I couldn’t outrun a vampire, especially not in these heels, but the boldness that had kept me going was quickly leaching out of me, leaving behind a rabbit-like fear: I was prey in the midst of predators, and my body knew it.
My feet hit the uneven terrain of the cemetery grounds once, twice, before I was caught around the waist and hauled backward by an impossible strength that screamed preternatural. Then, I was once more surrounded by a swell of men and I went into a frenzy, suddenly terrified of what would happen to me when I got to wherever they were taking me.
I snapped at a finger that got too close to my mouth. I punched a bicep that got within reach. I snatched out bits of hair that I caught within my grasp. Anything and everything I could when it was five against one.
“You fucking cowards. You swine!” I snarled. My words trailed to curses, falling from my lips in rapid, angry Italian.
Two of the men said something I didn’t catch as they made a quick hand gesture, and a third snatched up my ankles, grabbing them in a tight grip. The fourth man hoisted my upper body so I was stretched out between them, taut but unbalanced. I jerked my body inward, trying to yank them off-balance. The man with my feet stumbled, dropping my legs.
Obscenities bellowed from my mouth as I kicked my legs, nailing the vampire that seemed to be in charge in the cheek with a stiletto point. He grunted at the impact, stilling for a moment as he took in the damage to his jaw, and his eyes narrowed before he sent a dark look my way. I knew that look—malice and misogyny mixed into a nasty little package—and braced myself for the blow that was sure to come, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the stunning punch he landed on my temple. Hurt reverberated through my skull, resounding like a gong, and then everything went blessedly dark as I fell into unconsciousness.
