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The beast hesitated, but decided to play along for now. It retreated, letting human Zaq retake control.
I drew a deep breath and growled, “No handcuffs.”
Reaper glanced at my wrists and sucked in her lower lip. “Leave it,” she told the two vampires. “He’s not going to get away from the three of us. The man can barely keep on his feet.”
Blaise shrugged. “Fine.” He took out his dagger and poked me in the back. “Walk.”
Ines unsheathed her dagger as well.
I stepped forward. That’s when I realized how debilitated I actually was. I’d been chained up with only short breaks for over a week. I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. Reaper kept a hold of my upper arm, helping me stay upright without making a show of it.
I made it up the first flight of stairs, Reaper at my side, the two vampires breathing down my neck. When I reached the landing, I halted, lungs jerking like a human with emphysema.
“One more flight,” Reaper said, low-voiced.
I closed my eyes. Then I opened them and shuffled across the landing.
That second flight was like climbing a goddamn mountain. Thirteen slow, painful steps.
By the end, I was counting them under my breath. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.
I reached the top and kept going, afraid that if I stopped, I’d pass out right there in the hall.
“This way.” Reaper indicated the first door on the right. “Enforcer Moreau is in his salon.”
I gave a tight nod, saving my breath to move those last few yards. Blaise strode past me and rapped on the door.
I glanced in the other direction and froze. The door at the top of the stairs, the one to the mansion’s first floor, was open.
My breath hitched. My pulse sped up. Maybe I didn’t have to fight—or bargain with Moreau. Not if I could escape in the shadows.
I shuffled forward. As I walked, I called on my vampire magic and started the fade.
And—nothing happened. I had no juice.
My chest clenched. Gods, I hated feeling so helpless.
Stay calm. Stay calm. Or you’re dead.
The door in front of us opened. The tall, lantern-jawed man, the one I figured was Moreau’s butler, inclined his head to me like I was a goddamned guest.
“M’sieur Kral. The enforcer is expecting you.”
The large room we entered was old-world French: blood-red Persian rug, antique furniture, gilt-framed oil paintings. It was beautiful, but I barely noticed, instead zeroing in on the slim vampire in a tailored suit lounging on a couch like a sleek rat. A rat with dark hair touched silver at the temples.
Blood roared in my ears. It was the man who’d attacked me the night after Étan.
My vision tunneled. I forgot everyone else in the room—Reaper, the vampires who’d escorted me, the long-faced butler.
All I saw was the S.O.B. who’d drunk from a man without permission. A man pinned like an insect to a concrete wall. A man who couldn’t fight back.
My vampire half surged up again. My fangs elongated, the tips itching to tear into his throat, and my fingers curved into claws.
Kill. Feed.
“Enforcer Moreau.” Reaper’s voice came from the other end of the tunnel. “Where would you like the prisoner?” She stepped in front of me, smoothly blocking me from charging Moreau.
She was warm, and she smelled good. Those two things penetrated my blood lust.
