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Until I realized the cry had come from me.
The silver had burned through the final layer of skin and into the muscles and tendons of my wrists, fusing to my body. The pain was so excruciating, I’d cried out in my sleep.
I’d moved my wrists up and down, ripping them free of the silver. That had been so fucking painful, I’d nearly passed out again.
I’d stayed awake the rest of the day. Anything to keep my wrists from touching the silver.
Evening came. I hadn’t even seen Reaper for a couple of days. My last hope of rescue drained away.
You’re on your own, Zaq. No one’s coming to break you out of here.
Something inside me cracked. The combination of pain, blood-hunger and lack of sleep fractured the human part of me, and the darkness—the vampire beast—surged up. The vampire beast that’s part of all dhampirs, that we learn to coexist with.
Now it took control. My fangs elongated and my senses sharpened. My vision, my hearing, my sense of smell.
I growled low in my throat, but, conscious of the video cams, retracted my fangs. The vampire beast was cunning. It knew not to let itself be seen. No one could know it had taken charge, that “nice” Zaquiel Kral had been temporarily overcome.
The next time Reaper released me from the cuffs, I’d attack. The hell with this unspoken bargain we’d struck, where she fed me red meat and blood-wine right under Moreau’s nose and in return, I played tame with her.
I rolled my head from side to side, shrugged my shoulders, flexed my fingers. Brought my right knee to my chest, then my left.
Moving hurt. Hell, breathing hurt.
But I forced my feverish, aching body to go through the entire series a half-dozen times.
I’d only have one chance to take Reaper down. I’d have to make it good.
Except when the door opened later that night, it wasn’t Reaper, it was Ines and Blaise.
I prepared to fight. The beast didn’t care if it lived or died.
It just wanted freedom.
“Time to go.” Blaise released me from the wall while Ines stood by with zip-tie cuffs.
I brought my arms down. I didn’t even bother to stifle my pained groan. Let them think I was a wuss. Easier to surprise them.
I hunched and dropped my head to my chest to cover my lengthening fangs.
“Hands behind your back,” Blaise commanded. “Enforcer Moreau wants to see you.”
Yeah, I bet he did. To fuck with me, most likely.
Without lifting my head, I slid a glance at my opponents. Both carried silver daggers, but the fools had left them sheathed on their hips.
I gathered my muscles to strike.
Reaper entered the cell and somehow saw what the two vampires hadn’t. She leapt forward and grabbed me by the arm.
“No, Zaquiel! Moreau wants to make a deal with you.”
I swung my head in her direction. “Let. Go.” My voice sounded like something dragged from the bowels of Hades. Rough. Guttural. Demonic.
“No.” She gave me a shake. “You can’t win. Fight, and they’ll shackle you to that wall again and never let you go.”
Blaise dug his fingers into my shoulder. “Arms behind your back. Now.”
“Do it.” Reaper shoved her face into mine. The human part of me knew I must look like a scary mofo, but she didn’t back off. “Trust me,” she mouthed.
