12. Unexpected Complications Arise

CHAPTER 12

Unexpected Complications Arise

T he bunker was freezing. Even though Brynleigh's blood ran cold, and the dropping temperature wouldn't kill her, she was uncomfortable. She could only imagine how bad it was for the others. She wore a thin violet t-shirt and workout leggings, not having dressed to spend the day underground.

A musty scent tickled her nostrils every time she inhaled, and a suspicious dripping sound came from nearby. At least there wasn't any tell-tale scurrying from mice or other rodents.

After the guards had blindfolded them—many of the women had cried and screamed during the process—they had led them down several flights of stairs. From what Brynleigh could tell from her limited information, they were deep underground in a cement room. If there were any lights, she couldn't make them out through the material they'd forced over her eyes.

Hours had passed since they descended into the bellies of the Hall of Choice. At first, a few women had cried. Some, like Esme, were stoic. In a display that confirmed how horrible Valentina was, the fire fae had verbally berated the guards, assuring them they would hear from her mother if the threat was fake.

Hallie had nearly passed out from shock. Now, the Fortune Elf rested her head against Brynleigh's shoulder. A shuddering sob occasionally ran through the smaller woman, but she seemed to have run out of tears.

The men were somewhere down here, too. Brynleigh could sense their presence, along with even more guards.

Another vampire must have been working with the soldiers. Their shadow magic crawled over Brynleigh's skin, and she sensed the presence of their darkness. They must have filled the bunker with shadows, adding another layer of security to keep the participants from seeing each other.

The guards had handed out protein bars and bottles of water, but they hadn't had anything for Brynleigh. She needed blood, and soon. Her stomach twinged, warning that hunger wasn't far off.

Instead of focusing on her need to feed because she couldn't do anything about it, she turned to Hallie. Keeping her voice low so no one else could overhear, Brynleigh asked, "How are you feeling?"

"I didn't See this," the Fortune Elf whispered hoarsely. "Mama told me I shouldn't Look ahead much while I was here in case I accidentally Saw my future husband. I shouldn't have listened to her. I should've walked the silver planes more often. If I'd known?—"

Brynleigh reached out blindly and put her hand on what she thought was Hallie's knee. "You couldn't have changed anything. You heard the guards. The rebels attacked Golden City."

Brynleigh was surprised that it had taken them this long to attack a Choosing. It didn't take a genius to correlate the rebel attacks and the class disparity in the Republic of Balance. Issues were bound to arise, seeing as how the majority of the Republic suffered under the rule of the Council.

Even now, Brynleigh knew she and the other "commoners" were only Selected to take part in the Choosing to appease the citizens of the Republic. Valentina and the others whispered behind their backs, taking little care to hide how they felt about the women they deemed beneath them.

Still, it was frustrating that the rebels were causing problems during Brynleigh's Choosing. She'd spent years meticulously crafting her plan, and now everything was falling apart. This was an unexpected complication she'd rather not deal with… and wasn't the only one that had arisen.

Brynleigh and Ryker were forging a connection, which was her plan. What she hadn't seen coming was the way she couldn't stop thinking about him. He haunted her every minute of every day. Even while she slept, she thought about him.

The deep rasp of the fae's voice and the smoky quality that edged his words intrigued her. Her heart sped up while they talked, no matter how much she tried to stop it. Even though she imbibed blood daily, she couldn't get her fangs to stop aching.

Her body's reaction to Ryker was a problem, and she needed to fix it. He was supposed to want her, not the other way around.

Rule number six: let nothing distract you from your goal.

Today, Brynleigh had almost slipped up and told him about her nightmares. The words had been on the tip of her tongue. She'd been seconds away from admitting that when she slept, she dreamed of deadly waves and burning lungs.

The rebel attack stopped her just in time.

She needed to remember who Ryker was. What he'd done. Over the past month, he'd put on a good front of being a kind, caring man, but she knew the fae hiding beneath the surface was a cold-blooded killer. Her entire town was dead because of him.

Brynleigh was so caught up in remembering exactly why she hated Ryker that she didn't hear the guards moving at first.

"Can I have your attention?" a commanding voice came from the front of the room.

Silence fell. The bunker was so quiet that a pin dropping would have been as loud as a clap of thunder.

Brynleigh turned her head towards the voice. Hallie's fingers nudged hers, and she let the Fortune Elf lace their fingers together. Usually, Brynleigh refused to let anyone touch her like this, but between her friend's soft demeanor and earlier tears, she couldn't find it in her cold heart to refuse the elf.

The voice continued, "The situation has been contained, and it is safe to re-enter the Hall of Choice. The women will go first. Once you reach the residential sectors, head directly for your Lounges. The Matrons will be by shortly to deliver further instructions."

Hallie sagged against Brynleigh, her relief palpable. "Thank Kydona."

Brynleigh wasn't sure the mother goddess cared about the rebels or the Choosing, but she didn't say that. If Kydona brought Hallie peace, then that was all that mattered.

The soldiers gave a few more instructions before helping the women to their feet. They were herded out of the bunker.

A door clicked behind them, and the same guard said, "You may remove your blindfolds."

Brynleigh ripped hers off, her vision adjusting quickly to the faint fluorescent glow from the lights ribbing the ceiling. There were no windows, but several doors lined the concrete, gray hallway.

The soldiers split in two, half traveling at the front of the group and the other half at the back as they led the women upstairs. No one spoke as they climbed five stories. Pinched lips, furrowed brows, and tired eyes were all around Brynleigh.

"Remember, straight to the Crimson Lounge," the guard at the front reminded them, his hand on the door to the main level of the Hall of Choice.

Once everyone had agreed, the guard turned the knob.

Then it happened.

One moment, Brynleigh was fine.

The next, her world shifted.

A coppery scent slammed into her.

She stumbled and crashed into the cement wall.

The delicious aroma of blood called to her. It took over her, pushing aside rational thought as if it had never existed.

Blood permeated the air. This wasn't a paper cut or some minor injury.

No.

Multiple people had bled out and died nearby. Not miles away, in some unknown location, but right outside the building. Death would forever mark this place.

Brynleigh's fangs burned. They were fire.

An animalistic, predatory growl rumbled through her, echoing in the stairwell.

It felt like sharp knives were stabbing into her stomach as she clawed at the cement wall.

Brynleigh wasn't hungry. She was starving . Had she ever known, truly known, the sensation of requiring sustenance before this point? She thought not.

This new need, this deep-set desire to feed, was so potent that Brynleigh was certain she would die if she did not drink blood. Right. Fucking. Now.

Somehow, her feet started moving. Shadows flooded out of her. Her heart sped. She snarled. Red tinged her vision.

She shoved her way past the guards in a blur and made it halfway down the main corridor before realizing where she was going.

An iron grip grabbed her arm and twisted.

"Someone get this vamp some blood!" the guard holding her yelled.

Brynleigh snarled, trying to shake him off. The sound of her anger was foreign and vicious, like a dog unwilling to give up its prized possession.

Somewhere deep inside her, the remnants of Brynleigh's humanity were being dragged away by the bloodthirsty monster living inside her. The need for blood was so intrinsically tied to her, such an essential part of her being, that she didn't know where the bloodlust stopped, and she began.

She was becoming a creature of the night, through and through.

Brynleigh struggled to hang onto the thin strands of her control. At war with herself, she barely paid attention to her surroundings.

Someone shoved a bag of blood in her direction. The guard loosened his grip just enough so she could drink. It wasn't enough.

Her hunger was a steep cliff, and she teetered on the edge. Dancing between sanity and forever losing herself to the monster within her, she panted and growled.

That smell remained.

Another red bag was thrust in her direction.

She drank that, too.

It still wasn't enough .

Closer and closer, she danced to the ledge.

"Get a fucking grip!" someone screamed in her face.

Maybe she could bite them? They seemed angry. She wouldn't kill them. She just needed a little blood.

Brynleigh moved towards them, but that iron grip returned, this time around her waist.

"She's too young," the guard holding her said. "Little more than a Fledgling."

Shaking her head, Brynleigh tried to clear the fire in her fangs. If only she could shove this need aside, she could tell them it was fine. She was here for a reason. She couldn't lose control. Not yet.

But she was slipping, slipping, slipping away.

"I knew this bloodsucker would be a problem from the first day I met her," Valentina snarled.

Even through the bloodlust, Brynleigh recognized the horrible fae's voice.

Brynleigh's nostrils flared. She spun, growling and gnashing her teeth at the fire fae. "I'll kill you, bitch."

She'd have no remorse about it, either.

A flame appeared in Valentina's hand. "I'd like to see you try."

A snarl.

Someone kicked the back of Brynleigh's legs. She fell to the ground. A knee pressed into her back, forcing her to the ground.

Heartbeats.

So many gods-damned heartbeats. They got louder and louder until they were drums pounding painfully in Brynleigh's ears.

All these people had blood in them. Forget the dying ones outside. She could get what she needed here. She'd kill them all, starting with the one glaring at her with malice.

Deep inside, Brynleigh recognized this was a monumentally bad idea, but she couldn't remember why.

Feed .

The word echoed through her mind. Her body. Her spirit.

Feed, feed, feed .

People kept talking, but their voices were hard to hear beneath the pounding of the life-giving organs surrounding her .

"I can… it'll knock…"

"Do it." The order came from the guard, forcing Brynleigh to remain down.

Valentina shouted, "Let her…"

Something sharp pierced Brynleigh's skin.

An agony-filled scream burst from the vampire's lips.

Flames ran through her from the point of injury, burning her from the inside out.

Someone shouted. A softer, friendly voice cried out. Brynleigh's mind swam as she fought for control.

Then she tumbled headfirst into blessed darkness.

Something soft and pillowy was beneath Brynleigh. Yawning, she stretched her arms and arched her back. The softness surrounded her, and she decided she was on a mattress. A very cloud-like mattress, one covered in silken sheets and pillows. That was strange. She wondered where she was, but the moment she tried to think, a low throb started at the back of her mind.

That was not a good sign.

Even though she was in an unknown location, Brynleigh didn't feel tense. If anything, she felt… at peace. That was strange. She hadn't known a moment of peace since her family's passing.

Leaving aside the problem of where she was for another moment, Brynleigh cracked open her eyes and looked around. As suspected, she was on a bed. It was large and could hold several people comfortably. Massive windows stretched across two of the four walls, a black tint blocking the sun's dangerous rays.

Fuck, she missed the sun and its warming embrace. The way its yellowed fingers touched her face. The light it cast on the world around her. She'd only been a vampire for six years, yet she already longingly remembered the natural light she would never see again.

Because creatures of the moon had no business being in the sun.

Turning from the windows, she took in the rest of the space. High ceilings, elaborate crown molding, and golden picture frames spoke to a level of grandeur to which she was unaccustomed.

Maybe she should worry about where she was because this was not her home or anywhere she'd ever been.

Something urgent pressed at the back of Brynleigh's mind, begging her to remember. She tried to unearth the memory, but it remained out of her reach.

Then the doorknob twisted.

Instantly, Brynleigh was on high alert. Her heart thundered in her chest. Shadows were a sheet of darkness as they poured out of her. She kneeled on the mattress, and her wings formed effortlessly on her back. Peeling back her lips, she exposed her fangs.

Who dared sneak up on her?

Something slid across her thigh, and she glanced down, her eyes widening. Why was she wearing a thin black slip? This was far from her usual nightwear of choice: a tank top and shorts.

The door creaked open.

Her attention snapped back up.

"Brynleigh, are you awake?" a deep smokey voice asked.

That voice. It spoke to the deepest parts of Brynleigh and echoed in her soul. Her core twisted, and she stared at the shadowy figure entering the room. He was cast in darkness, and though she tried, she couldn't make out his features.

For some reason, that didn't bother her.

When she didn't respond, he said, "Sweetheart?"

Safe.

That was the first thing she felt when he spoke. This man, whoever he was, was a haven. He wouldn't hurt her. She wasn't sure how she came to this conclusion, but she knew it in the marrow of her bones.

"I'm right here," she breathed. She retracted her wings and called her shadows back. They were always present, always ready, but she didn't need them here.

Peace radiated all around her.

But she was forgetting something. It was important, this piece of her mind that had slipped away. There was something about this man with the deep, smoky voice, and the two of them …

She searched and searched, trying to shove past the strange mist clouding her mind, but she couldn't remember why she shouldn't trust him. She fought against her mind and sought the missing memories, but they remained out of her reach.

His hand trailed down her back. "What's wrong?"

The bed dipped as he kneeled behind her. She could see their reflection in the blacked-out windows but couldn't make out his face. He was bigger than her, taller by almost a head and bulkier. His ears were pointed, but she couldn't seem to focus on his individual features.

"I… I don't know," she admitted quietly. "I'm missing something, and my brain hurts."

What had begun as a low throb was now a rhythmic ache. Her fangs bothered her, and there was a need present within her that she had trouble identifying.

"Let me help you," the mysterious man murmured.

But was he mysterious? Not really.

His voice… she knew his voice. It had haunted her dreams. The inflections, the way he hummed, the hitch in his breath when he spoke of something personal.

She knew him . Of that, she was certain.

They'd been… together? That mist formed a firm wall, slamming down on her memories before she could remember much of their relationship.

Before she could think through the ramifications, Brynleigh nodded. "Alright. You can help me."

The moment the words left her lips, the world around her swirled. She blinked, and everything had changed. The grand room was gone, and in its place, floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over a moonlit bay. Pine trees hugged the bay, their green branches swaying in the night breeze. Stars shone brightly, day having suddenly given way to night, and the full moon cast its silver glow on the water.

The gilded room was gone, and a cozy log cabin was in its place. The bed was sturdy, a lush carpet covered the floor, and she peeked a claw-foot tub in the bathroom through an open door.

"What?" Her brows creased. "How is this happening? "

This wasn't real… right? It couldn't be real. And yet… It felt real. She'd never felt anything more real than this.

That same hand trailed up her spine, each touch blazing a fiery path as he ran his fingers over the thin silk of her slip.

"You needed me, so I came," he said as if it was that simple. As if she knew exactly who he was, and they had something deep between them. "I'll always come for you, sweetheart."

Did Brynleigh need him?

She rarely needed anyone, but if he said she did, maybe he was right. Maybe he knew her and could tell her what she was missing. It certainly sounded like they had something between them.

And the way his fingers caressed her back…

His touch, though foreign, was comfortable. Protective. It was like he cared about her.

She leaned into him, needing more.

"Do you like that?" His breath warmed her ear and sent tingles running down her spine.

She hummed her approval, and his lips ghosted over her bare shoulder.

"Fuck, you taste divine," he murmured, a baritone rasp edging his voice. "Like the night and shadows and everything I've been missing in my life."

He kissed her other shoulder.

She shivered beneath his touch.

"I've been dreaming about this," he whispered. "The way you feel, your smell, your taste. All of it."

She exhaled a shaky breath, and her heart raced. Her fingers gripped the sheets. "And what do you think now?"

His lips skimmed her back, settling in that spot where her shoulder blades came together. "I think my dreams didn't do you justice."

His hand landed on her hip, grounding her and holding her still as his mouth trailed down her back. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire.

Brynleigh had had her fair share of sexual partners before, but none of them had ever made her feel like this. Flames licked her insides, warming her always-cold veins. Her fangs throbbed. Unbidden, a deep- set need rose within her. To bite. To feed. Not to inflict pain but to share pleasure.

Fuck, she wanted more.

She needed it.

Moaning, Brynleigh's head landed on his shoulder, and her eyes fell shut.

"That's it, sweetheart," he said encouragingly, nibbling on her ear. "Let me take care of you."

Brynleigh probably should've fought him more. She should've tried to push past the fog and remember his name. Maybe if she'd wondered why she knew his voice but didn't know what he looked like, she would've realized this was a bad idea.

Except, she didn't care. If this man, whoever he was, made her feel safe, she would revel in that feeling for as long as it lasted.

Brynleigh nodded. Keeping her eyes closed, she inhaled deeply. He smelled of thunderstorms and bergamot, and the scent only made her fangs hurt even more.

She wanted to bite and taste him like he'd tasted her, but something told her doing that would bring this all to a sudden end.

She really didn't want to do that.

His hand tightened on her hip, his grip firm but not bruising. He kissed her ear gently as his other hand slid down her side. His touch was gentle but firm as he reached the hem of her slip and slowly dragged the material up. He exposed the swell of her ass, brushing his knuckles over her bottom.

She shivered, the action having nothing to do with the cold.

He froze, his voice a rasping caress as he breathed, "Is this alright?"

"Yes," she half-pleaded, half moaned. "Please touch me."

They'd already started. Why stop now?

A familiar low chuckle rumbled through him as his hand slipped beneath her, reaching for her core. His fingers grazed her inner thighs, brushing the lace of her undergarments.

His touch was all too brief as he teased her.

His fingers danced close—so gods-damned close—to her intimate flesh, but not quite there. Tracing the edges of her underwear, he explored her slowly as though mapping out every part of her .

She rubbed against him, trying to get him where she needed him the most. If she knew his name, it would be on her lips.

"More," she whispered, not caring that she was close to begging this unknown man for everything.

His lips found her throat, and he nipped her. Heat coursed through her, and she moaned.

"More, what? I need to hear you say it, sweetheart."

Isvana have mercy on her, but her heart raced at his demand. She loved the way he was taking control.

Swallowing, she forced her mind to focus. "Touch me," she requested. "I need to feel your hands on me. In me."

"Thank fuck," he groaned.

He didn't make her wait. Pushing aside the lace, he exhaled gruffly as he touched her. "Gods, you're so wet. Is this for me?"

"Yes." She didn't know how she came to this conclusion. His name was a mystery, as was his face, but the ache in her core was for him as much as his presence was her haven.

Finally— finally —his thumb found her sensitive flesh.

At the first touch against her clit, Brynleigh panted.

He pressed harder.

She moaned.

The sound spurred him on, and he slipped a finger into her wet heat. She moved against him, his hand firm on her hip as he held her in place.

He was hard behind her, his impressive length pressing against her lower back, and he slowly pumped his finger in and out of her.

"You're so fucking perfect," he growled.

She needed more. As if he sensed it, he added another finger. They drove into her, giving her more and more. She writhed against him.

Pleasure built. The fog in her mind remained, but she no longer cared.

There was just this moment, her and the man whose voice made her feel safe, and nothing else.

She was so close. So coiled. So ready.

It had been far too long since she'd been with anyone, and she needed this man in a way she'd never needed anyone .

"Fuck yes, that's it," he said encouragingly. He kissed the corner of her lips, her jaw, her neck. "Let go, sweetheart."

He added a third finger, stretching her as his movements sped up.

Moaning, her fingers curled in the sheets as she chased her release. It was so close.

He kept speaking as he touched her. Telling her how much he dreamed of this. How much he wanted this. How good she felt pressed against him. He told her how he'd take her next, lay her beneath him, and let her feel his full weight. He would take care of her, giving her everything she needed.

There was a forcefulness in his voice, a dominance that Brynleigh usually didn't enjoy from partners.

But here? Now?

She would let him do whatever he wanted to her.

His thumb found her clit once more, and she screamed.

"I'm so close," she whimpered.

He released her hip. She didn't have time to mourn the lack of his touch because he tugged down the straps of her slip, exposing her breasts to the night air.

"Fucking beautiful," he breathed.

His fingers grazed her hardened nipples. Every touch, every twist of his skilled fingers against her pebbled flesh, brought her closer and closer to that cliff. She kept her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed, with her mouth opened in a soundless scream.

His lips grazed hers. It was feather-light, a winter breeze against her mouth, not a kiss. It was airy, and she wanted more.

"Let go, Brynleigh," he murmured. "I've got you."

And she did.

He held her, never stopping his sensual touch, as she finally careened off that precipice. Waves of pleasure coursed through her until she was limp in his arms.

He kissed her and laid her down on the bed. "Sleep, sweetheart. I've got you."

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

She drifted off to sleep instantly, the land of dreams welcoming her with open arms.