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The one thing I am not is worried.
Chapter Eleven
Saylor
“Just so you are aware,” Elijah starts as we are about to go into the basement of the club. “If they make a move towards you, I will kill them. I will kill with no remorse. There will be lots of blood and screaming.”
“Okay,” I say calmly.
He blinks. Chuckles come from the two vampires at our backs.
Elijah leads the way down the stairs. The shouts of anger and arguing cut off abruptly as we get closer. I look around the room. An actual torture chamber. I should be leery of Ryker. He built this with a purpose. I suppose an ancient vampire gathers many enemies over the years.
Seeing Fred and Sam hanging from the ceiling in chains in the dark concrete room, helpless and bloody, gives me a zap of satisfaction. These two men have made my life hell. Fred is cruel. He was an active participant in the killing of my mom. Sam didn’t land any blows but he blindly follows Fred and Grant. His passiveness in the abuse and killing of women is no less cruel.
For years, when I saw them all I have felt is fear and the desire to flee. With Elijah by my side and two vampires in the room, the fear is gone.
All I feel is anger and glee that they are under Elijah’s control now.
And mine.
“Sweet, sweet Saylor,” Fred coos. He grins his crooked grin, his lips dry and cracked from lack of water.
“Watch yourself,” Elijah warns. His hand grips Fred’s throat in an instant and he lets his claws scrap his skin.
“Alright, alright,” Fred wheezes.
Elijah drops his arm and steps back.
I stay silent. The silence in the room makes Sam uncomfortable. His feet are barely touching the floor but they shift restlessly. He watches me carefully, almost seems…ashamed. Fred’s eyes blaze with anger. Which I don’t understand. I study him closer. I take in his scent without the barrier of my fear blocking it.
I close my eyes and concentrate. I shove all the other smells out and hone in on him. I move to stand close without opening my eyes, letting him guide me. As shifters, our sense of smell is everything. We use it to distinguish between friend and enemy. Prey. Mate. Food. Fear. Arousal. Liars.
I wade past the sick scent of rotten meat. The anger. What I land on is surprising.
I open my eyes and frown. “Jealousy.” And a sliver of guilt.
He jerks back and the chains rattle. “Fuck you.”
“Why? Why are you jealous of me?” I delve into the emotion behind his eyes.
Panic.
“Why would I be jealous of you?” he spits. “We have stalked you for years. You had no life at all.”
“This is what I am wondering. As you are fully aware, the scents don’t lie.” He shakes his head violently.
“I’m not admitting to anything. Either kill me or let me go. I don’t give a fuck.”
“I vote for option one,” Ryker chimes in. “He’s fucking too loud.”
I ignore the vampire even as Elijah chokes. “Why?” I insist. I put my fingers on his cheek, my nail resting close to his eye.
“He wants you,” he screams. “Everyone wants you. We had to put our lives on hold to chase you around the world. We never get to settle. He sits in our camp, thinking of you. Sending us wherever he wants. He’s obsessed. We could be trying to find our own mates. We could be setting up a home.”
“You don’t think I had wished the same. Don’t you think I wanted a home? A safe space? I wanted to live somewhere with my mom and be happy. I wanted a yard and maybe a pet. I wanted to live a normal, boring life.” The anger is bringing my claw closer and closer to his wide eye.
“There was a girl,” Sam whispers.
