8. Chapter 8

8

Chapter 8

Mia

T here's a now-familiar grating sound from the huge iron door, and instinctively, I withdraw to the back of the cell. A strange part of me almost wonders if it will be him on the other side.

Soren. The vampire bastard.

But it's not. I haven't seen him again since I arrived. The heavyset woman who shoves the door open is human. I figured that out the first day she came for me.

That was a week ago. At least, I think it was; there's no natural light to judge the passage of time. I've been using my meals to give me an idea of whether it's morning or night. The congealed bowl of oats seems most likely to be breakfast, and I've been guessing that the daily mound of rice and stew is probably dinner. Though if they wanted to mess with me, they could give me oats at night, and I'd be none-the-wiser.

"You're up, princess," the woman in the doorway says. When I don't respond immediately, her dishwater eyes narrow. "What you waiting for? Engraved invitation or what?"

I nod once and head for the door, skirting her cautiously. I've already had more than one cuff to the head for moving too slowly. I turn left as we get into the hall, already knowing where we're headed. Two male guards fall in behind us, heavily armed. Also human. It's another thing that helps me figure out the time of day.

The vampires only come out at night.

As we walk, we pass doorways; some have small windows, but so far, I've never seen one of the occupants of the rooms we pass by – and I know there are occupants.

I've heard the sobbing.

I don't think about that now.

The large, heavy door at the end of the hall looms. We stop when we reach it. My guard reaches past me and presses a button on the wall. A moment later, a face appears in the glass panel in the center of it. Flat-eyed and dough-faced, the man on the other side observes me dispassionately.

"All clear, Patty?"

"All clear," my guard says, slanting a look at me.

A locking mechanism clicks within the door. Patty reaches for the heavy handle and pushes it down, hauling the door open.

"After you, cupcake," she smirks at me. I walk through, not making eye contact with the man who just opened. I keep walking. There are more doors lining this hall, but they're not cells. Most likely security offices or storage closets, from the looks of things. I've never had a chance to get a closer look. Patty normally marches me down here too quickly.

She's doing it now. A rough hand at the small of my back nudges me faster. I try not to scamper. They can push me around, but I won't freaking let them get me down. I hold my head high and walk with as much dignity as I can muster until we reach the final door at the end of the hall. It swings open easily when Patty shoves it, leading into a large room with white porcelain tiles on the walls and the floor. The guards who'd been tailing us stop, flanking the door, their backs to the wall.

"Alright, sweetcheeks. You know the drill." Patty widens her stance and folds her arms across her chest.

I grit my teeth. I hate this part. But there's no sense in resisting. I reach for the hem of the plain gray tunic I've been given to wear and pull it over my head. I drop it on the floor, then tug my cotton panties over my hips and down my thighs. The sad heap of clothing on the floor represents the sum total of my regular outfit here.

"Good girl," says Patty, licking her lips. The way her eyes rove over me makes my skin crawl. "Against the wall." She jerks her head in that direction, and I do as I'm told.

Goddammit… I hate this part, too.

Patty reaches for a hose that's wound on a reel on the wall and twists a faucet. The jet of icy water that hits me sucks my breath from my lungs.

"Wash," she instructs me. "Now."

Quickly, I scrub my hands over my body, trying fruitlessly to rub away the stink of perspiration and captivity. A bar of soap would help. And I can't fathom why they can't just have regular showerheads. Probably because hosing us down is more dehumanizing.

Fuckers.

"Don't forget the pits and puss, princess." Patty laughs raucously, turning the water pressure higher. "Don't want you skanky with His Lordship gets here."

His Lordship?

I frown at that, obediently washing beneath my arms and between my legs before the stupid bitch has a reason to turn up the water any higher.

Who the hell is His Lordship?

I don't get a chance to dwell on it further because Patty turns the water off. "Teeth." She points at a washbasin where a tube of toothpaste has been set out. No toothbrush. Because they probably think I'd steal it and craft it into a shiv or something. I squirt some toothpaste onto my finger and do the best I can to scrub the fuzz from my teeth before rinsing my mouth out.

I turn just in time to catch the fresh tunic Patty is tossing my way. "New duds," she says. "Special occasion."

I don't bother asking what the occasion is. She wants me to ask so she can torment me by not answering. So I just nod and pull the tunic over my head, the rough fabric drying my damp skin as I do.

When I look up, Patty's twirling a clean pair of panties around on one finger, her lips twisted into an ugly grin. I'm guessing they assigned a female guard to oversee women's bathing duties because it's appropriate, but seriously, I think I'd prefer one of the men outside.

I stare at her impassively until she bunches them up and tosses them at me. "Make it quick. You're already late."

Again, I don't bother asking what I'm late for. I learned on the first day that Patty gets off on mind games. So I step into the panties, pull them up, and head to the door, stopping when I reach it. Patty thumps twice, and it swings open, one of the guards outside facing us.

"Ready?" He looks at me but addresses Patty.

"Ready as she'll ever be," Patty replies.

Fuck. I really hate the way they talk about me as if I'm not here. In fact, I hate everything about this damn place. I step through the door, intent on turning back in the direction of my cell, when someone grabs me roughly, pulling me in the opposite direction.

"Get your hands off me!" I yank my arm away and am rewarded by a hard shove between my shoulder blades for my efforts. It almost knocks me off my feet, but I fight to keep my balance. God, if I had my magic, I'd blast her into another dimension.

"Not today, cupcake." Patty pushes me again. We're heading down another corridor. "Got something new for you."

I fight down the sense of dread swirling in my belly. But it surges in full force when we stop at a plain white door. The smell of disinfectant wafts through it.

"This is where we say goodbye, sweetheart." Patty opens the door and shoves me inside. "Try not to miss me too much."

I stumble forward, turning awkwardly just in time to see her slam it shut. I swallow hard, then take a look around me.

I scan the room, my heart rate quickening. White walls, gleaming surfaces, and the sharp antiseptic scent assault my senses. In the center, a medical bed looms ominously, its sterile sheets perfectly tucked. Beside it, a trolley holds an array of sinister-looking instruments that make my stomach churn.

My eyes dart to the banks of equipment lining the walls. Heart rate monitors, IV stands, and machines I can't even name.

What the hell are they planning to do to me?

I've managed to keep my composure until now, gritting my teeth through the indignities and uncertainty. But faced with this clinical nightmare, panic claws at my throat. My hands tremble as I wrap my arms around myself, trying to steady my breathing. Never have I so desperately wished for my magic to return.

Seconds stretch into eternity as I stand frozen, my mind racing through terrifying possibilities. Then, a subtle shift in the air catches my attention.

The temperature drops by a degree, the way it often does when the undead are around.

Him? The vampire from my arrival?

No.

This is something different.

The door swings open.

I stiffen as two vampires enter the room. The first one exudes an aura of power and danger that makes my skin prickle. His icy gray eyes scan me with cold calculation, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Despite his predatory presence, he's undeniably handsome, with sharp cheekbones and jet-black hair that falls to his shoulders.

Behind him, a leaner vampire with silver hair follows, his unnervingly calm expression somehow more frightening than outright aggression.

The dark-haired vampire approaches, his movements fluid and purposeful. "Miss Blackwood," he says, his voice smooth as silk but with an underlying chill. "How wonderful to meet you at last."

I clench my fists, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Oh, trust me, the pleasure's all yours ."

He chuckles. "How lovely. A sense of humor. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lucien Marlowe. And this," he gestures to his companion, "is Dmitri."

I force myself to meet Lucien's gaze, desperately trying to mask my fear. "I don't care who you are. Why are you keeping me here?"

Lucien's smile widens, revealing the barest hint of fang. "My dear, you are here because you possess something quite valuable. Something that could change everything for my kind."

My heart races, but I keep my voice level. "And what might that be?"

"Your blood," he says simply. Then he reaches out a hand and traces a cold fingertip down my cheek. I shiver. "And you are going to be a very good girl and give it to us."

I find myself shaking my head. "N-no!" I say sharply, taking a step away from him. "No, you can't do that!"

Dimitri has headed to the table, hands moving over the gleaming tools there with an unnerving familiarity. His pale fingers trail tenderly over a scalpel in a way that makes my stomach lurch.

Lucien moves toward me, almost gliding. I start backing away.

"Get away from me!" I hold my hands up as if warding him off. It's such a futile gesture it almost brings me to tears. I have no magic. I'm not physically strong enough to fend him off. I've never been so powerless. Lucien knows it, too, amusement twisting the corners of his mouth up.

"This will be so much easier if you do not resist." His voice is smooth, almost soothing.

I'm shaking my head, still backing away, when the cold wall hits up against me. I stop short.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit!

When Lucien closes the distance between us, I lash out at him. He grabs my wrist in one inhumanly strong fist and snaps his fingers with his free hand. The door flies open, and two huge guards burst in.

"Restrain her," Lucien instructs. I stare around wildly, desperate for some way out of this.

There's nothing.

But there's no goddamn way they're just going to take me down easily. My fist connects with someone's jaw, my bare foot glancing against someone's shin. There's a grunt of annoyance when I rake my nails across the one guard's face, narrowly missing his eyes.

"Little bitch," he mutters, clasping both my wrists and hauling me back against him. The other one stoops and grabs both my ankles, and then I'm being swung off my feet.

"No!" I scream. "You can't do this! You can't fucking do this!" I squirm and twist, trying to free myself, but it's no use. I'm hefted onto the bunk and set down on the surface. The sheets are cool beneath me. I twist first one way and then the other, trying to worm away from the hands pinning me down. All it does is hike my tunic up my thighs, almost exposing my panties.

Dimitri, who has been watching this whole thing unfold without saying a word, watches me dispassionately. He reaches for the hem of my dress, and I cringe. He tugs it down, covering my thighs.

"There's no point in fighting, witch." His voice scares me even more than the goons who are holding me. When he reaches for a syringe with a thick, gleaming needle, I practically pee myself.

At least it's not a scalpel, Mia.

Small mercies.

I raise my head and spit at him, getting just the tiniest moment of satisfaction when his eyes narrow as the wet glob slides down his cheek.

"When my family finds you, they will destroy you!" I hiss.

Lucien rolls his eyes. "I've had enough. Shut her up."

A palm clamps over my mouth. I gnash my teeth, but it's clamped too tight for me to bite down. Dimitri reaches for my arm, twisting it so that the inside of my elbow is bared to him. My nostrils flare as I try to writhe away, but there's just no escaping it. There's no care behind the sharp jab that punctures my vein.

Maybe you shouldn't have spit in his face.

No. It was worth it.

‘There you go." Lucien grins a fang-baring grin. "Easy as that."

I glare back at him, my chest heaving. Dimitri has attached a tube to the needle in my arm. He connects it to a bag.

I turn my head and watch helplessly as my life force drains away.