A Vampire's Honor (7 page)

I tried struggling, but I was no match for Gus. He unlocked the other manacle and had me face down on the concrete floor with such a minimum amount of effort, I knew I wasn't the first woman he'd immobilized this way. With his knee on my back, he turned my head, pressing it to the ground, but making sure I could see Rat Boy as he yanked on my arm. Both of them laughed as Petrov broke my fingers one at a time.

I shrieked and screamed and made sounds I'd only ever heard from wild animals on TV nature programs. And when he was done, and Gus had rolled off me and Rat Boy had let go of my arm, I curled myself into a ball, barely able to hold my injured hand to my chest, and sobbed because it hurt so much.

“So . . . where is your vampire lover?” Petrov asked, his voice next to my ear. The pain in my hand was now coursing through my body and was so intense I couldn't have uttered a single syllable even if I'd wanted to. I was certain having a single finger broken was bad enough, but Petrov had relished breaking all four, leaving my hand a swollen, misshapen mess. “It would seem that no one is coming for you,” he told me, feigning disappointment.

I couldn't stop him as he pulled my swollen hand from my chest, but I snarled through my tears. He picked up the discarded syringe and injected the full dose into my arm, and when he was done, he followed it up by giving me the second one. A double dose. There was no way to know what I'd been injected with. It could be the Ebola virus or bubonic plague or mad cow disease. But I was very aware that I couldn't allow Gabriel to feed from me as long as my blood was tainted.

“Did you make that for Anasztaizia too?” I sobbed as he put the empty syringes back in the case.

“Yes, but it can be used on any human.”

I gave my inner bitch the mental equivalent of a
who knows?
shoulder shrug.

“What do you want to do with her?” Gus asked. He seemed a little hesitant, but I think that was due more to Petrov's unexpected reaction to me than to any real threat I might pose.

“I really don't care. She's of no use to me,” Petrov told him. “Do whatever you want.”

“Really?” Rat Boy, snickering like a perverted schoolboy with his first porno magazine, gave me a speculative look.

“Just make it quick, although I don't think that will be a problem for you.” He gave Rat Boy a disdainful look before turning and addressing Gus. “She should last for about thirty minutes, but if I were you, I'd be gone long before that.”

“Why?”

“Just in case someone does come looking for her.”

“What's gonna happen in thirty minutes?” Rat Boy piped up.

I don't know if it was the second injection suddenly kicking in and giving me a rush, or maybe my brain releasing endorphins. Either way, my body recognized that if I was to survive whatever was coming, I needed help. The pain in my hand began to subside, changing from an agonizing shriek to a manageable pulsating throb. The change allowed me to focus on what was going on around me.

“What's gonna happen in thirty minutes?” Rat Boy repeated, and I could hear the curiosity mingle with his excitement.

“She'll be dead,” Petrov told him, “but if your sexual proclivities run to necrophilia . . .” He let the rest of his sentence hang.

Rat Boy looked confused.

“Fucking a corpse,” Gus told him.

I hurt too much to be impressed that he knew what Petrov was talking about. But at least I now knew what a double dose of his just-something-I've-been-playing-with formula was supposed to do.

Well, I guessed we'd find out in about thirty minutes.

P
etrov vanished. One minute he was there, and the next he was gone. I didn't know how it was that he could be awake during the day anyway, but for all I knew the stars could already be twinkling in a midnight sky.

Okay, not nighttime then, but maybe close to sunset, and being in a pretty dark place—in more ways than one—was probably okay for the vampire.

I'd been telling myself that I could survive anything because Gabriel was coming for me. That was as certain as celebrating Independence Day on July 4, but the throbbing in my hand was making it difficult to hold onto that belief. Was Petrov's inhibitor drug actually working as he intended? If so, then Gabriel wouldn't be showing up anytime soon, and until he did I was on my own with homicidal Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

As for whether or not I was going to die, the validity of my demonic deal was about to get its first real test.

I dropped my swollen hand to my side, gritting my teeth as the tips of my fingers brushed against my leg. The pain had definitely lessened, but I think that was due to a combination of released endorphins and compressed nerves numbing my fingers. I gripped the bars with my good hand and pulled myself to my feet. No way in hell was I going to let these bastards touch me while I was on my knees.

“You have no idea what he is, do you?” I said, panting from exertion and looking at the morons watching me.

“What do you mean?” Rat Boy asked suspiciously. The constant movement of his hands was starting to give me a headache. Fiddling with his collar, tugging at his jacket, hitching up his jeans.

“Petrov. You're completely clueless about what he really is.”

“He's the guy who's gonna give me a lot of cash to mess you up,” Gus said in a cold, calm voice that sent a shiver of fear down my spine.

I shook my head and realized trying to enlighten them was futile. They would never believe me.

“So what d'you think, Gus? You think she's still got some fight in her?” Rat Boy had watched me struggle to my feet with something that could pass for reluctant admiration.

“Hard to say,” Gus replied. “Any bitch that's cornered is unpredictable.”

“Yeah, but she's only got one good hand, Gus. I don't think she'll fight. Maybe she would've before, but not now.”

The bigger man shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn't make much difference either way. I just need to hear her scream.”

“Well, you've always been good at making them do that.” Rat Boy clearly idolized his bosom companion. “So, you wanna get started?”

I didn't have to ask what Gus was going to get started on. The look on his face said it all.

Rape has its own particular violence, its own savagery, and the man who succumbs to its cruel lure, using it to crush the body and conquer the will of its victim, cannot help but be forever tainted by its evil. Make no mistake . . . rape is a weapon. Which explains why it was—and still is—such an effective way for conquering armies to subjugate and terrorize entire populations.

Knowing that you're going to be raped is its own torture. Deciding how to react to the violence that will be committed is a choice I believe most women make without any hesitation. God knows, I've watched enough TV to know the most important thing a victim can do is survive. But when survival has already been taken off the table, it becomes a completely different ball game.

But was I going to survive? Until I had proof of the effect of my demonic bargain, I was taking nothing for granted. Besides, why would I think a demon would tell me the truth?

Wow, you just can't let that go, can you?

When my inner bitch sounds this smug, it's because what she's about to tell me is something I either already know or should know.

See what I mean?

Unfortunately, her words didn't exactly fill me with confidence as I watched Gus pull his T-shirt over his head, revealing a tattoo of a coiled snake on his left pectoral. Dropping his hand to the waist of his jeans, he slowly unbuckled the belt at his waist before popping open the button on his fly. His zipper seemed unnaturally loud as he pulled it down, but to be honest, my own anxiety acted as an amplifier. I watched in disgust as he slipped a hand inside his pants and began stroking himself. With his gaze firmly fixed on my face, he watched for my reaction. I curled my lip and, with moisture I didn't know I had in me, spat in his direction.

Unfazed, Gus continued to stroke himself. There was absolutely nothing sexual or erotic about what he was doing. No pump or grind accompanying the masturbation, and judging by the expression on his face, he didn't seem to be getting any pleasure from it, which I found even more disturbing. But then again I've only ever watched one other man masturbate, and he definitely enjoyed it. Not as much as having me do it, but seeing Gabriel pleasure himself is something I find extremely erotic. And highly arousing.

It took me a moment or two to understand Gus's intent. His indifference to the physical response his hand was eliciting made me realize this obscene perversion was an act of pure intimidation. Along with his well-muscled torso, the proof of his superior physical strength, the sight of his fully erect cock cresting from the opening of his jeans was an unspoken vile threat. And his composure was telling me he was in complete control.

“Just out of curiosity,” I said in a voice that was as indifferent as I could make it, “what makes you think someone isn't already looking for me?”

“Why would they be?” Rat Boy sounded genuinely puzzled.

“I was in an accident, asshole.”

“Really?” His snickering was getting on my nerves and made me want to smack the ever-living snot out of him. “Where? When?” he taunted.

“The car—”

“—has gone. Mr. Petrov is very good at what he does.” Rat Boy sounded more than a little awed.

“That won't stop my boyfriend,” I told him defiantly. “He'll be looking for me—”

“He'd better get a move on then, 'cause your clock's winding down.”

I looked at Gus. The coiled-snake tattoo seemed to sway slightly as he breathed.

Gus peeled back the top of his jeans. His cock waved gently from side to side, and I forced a smile to stretch my lips. He answered with one of his own, so I made my smile expand to a grin, and then backed that up with a giggle, which in turn became a throaty laugh. His smile disappeared and was replaced by a look of confusion that quickly morphed into simmering anger. Rat Boy just looked bewildered.

“Do you actually know what to do with that,” I asked, pointing a finger on my good hand at his crotch, “or is that all it does?” I waved my finger back and forth, goading him. Probably not the smartest thing to do—okay, definitely not the smartest thing to do—but I figured if I was going to be raped, I sure as shit wasn't going down without a fight.

My kidnappers looked at each other. I'm not sure, but I think Rat Boy offered his opinion with a gesture that said I-think-she's-off-her-rocker. I snapped my fingers in the air, making both of them look back at me. Taking a step forward, I stared Gus in the eye. The longer it took, the worse it was going to be, and I could only hide my fear with bravado for so long. It was time to dance.

“Okay, big boy,” I said scornfully, “you want to hear me scream? Let's see if you can make me.” And crooking my forefinger, I beckoned him to me.

He narrowed his eyes and stared at me like I was deranged, which, at that precise moment, I probably was. There's nothing more unpredictable than someone who truly believes they have nothing left to lose. It didn't matter that the chemical cocktail I'd been given wasn't meant for me in the first place. Petrov's plan had been to make sure Aleksei couldn't find Anasztaizia before these assholes had finished with her. Breaking my fingers had not brought Gabriel to my rescue, so I had to assume either I was too far away geographically or the drug was affecting his ability to find me. Either way, Gus and I were going to get to know each other.

And just in case my demon was wrong, I wanted Gabriel to know I'd not made it easy for my attacker.

I watched as Gus licked his lips. The physical disparity between us definitely was to his advantage, and my injured hand tipped the odds even more in his favor, but I could see he was rethinking how to approach me. I could read it in his eyes, in his expression, in the way the muscle below his right eye suddenly began to twitch. I didn't need a college degree to know that I wasn't being as submissive as his usual victims. There was no weeping or screaming or emotional breakdown. No begging him not to hurt me. All of which were probably triggers that got him off. Instead he was facing someone who gave the outward appearance of being calm and collected, and made him have doubts about who was really in charge.

I saw the moment he made his mind up to come for me. He took one swaggering step forward, and stopped. A grunt of surprise escaped him, making his expression change from brutal confidence to a look of shocked disbelief.

The sudden, high-pitched shriek Rat Boy emitted made me swivel my head in his direction, noting that a high C wasn't the only thing he'd let loose. The dark stain at his crotch became a line that ran down the inside of his leg before ending in a puddle on the floor. The smell of ammonia was strong as he fell to his knees with a whimper.

Another grunt, this one wet-sounding, had me turning my attention back to Gus. A dark red blotch had mysteriously appeared on his chest and was growing bigger. I could tell something was moving behind him, but I was so mesmerized by the stain on his smooth chest, I paid it no attention. And then Gus's sternum split open as something inside his chest cavity exploded outward, sending blood and pieces of shattered bone flying in my direction. I don't know if it was flesh or muscle or blood, but something splattered on my cheek. I barely registered it because my eyes were fixed on the fist that was poking out the middle of Gus's chest.

Long familiar fingers uncurled themselves. Like petals of an alien flower, they opened to show me the secret they held. Gus's heart. I watched as the organ contracted, muscle memory making it obey the final directive of a brain it was no longer connected to. And then it stopped. The hand, shimmering with blood and tissue matter, released its prize, and there came a sickening, indescribable sound as the dead heart dropped on the floor. The only thing keeping Gus's two-hundred-plus-pound body in an upright position now withdrew itself from his torso, and without Gabriel's arm to support it, the lifeless body collapsed.

I stared at the vampire who had come for me.

I could feel Gabriel's eyes on me, waiting for me to acknowledge his presence. I continued to stare, seeing, for the first time, what the lesser beasts had seen when they'd approached the Dark Realm, needing a champion of their own. A predator that was different from anything that already walked the earth. One that would make mankind fear the night. I wondered if the lesser beasts ever knew how successful they had been in their quest.

Gabriel's expression was a mask of tightly controlled violence. His eyes had turned completely black, and his razor-sharp fangs, glistening with saliva, were extended longer than I had ever seen them. One arm was bloody from fingertip to elbow, and I noticed a sliver of white protruding from between his knuckles. A piece of bone embedded in his skin.

His lungs were bellows that moved his chest with each inhale of breath. A sheen of sweat turned his skin an iridescent gold beneath the pale light, and I could see the pulse thrumming at the base of his throat, see the blood pumping through his veins. He had never looked more beautiful or more deadly, and I felt my legs tremble as a wave of lust almost brought me to my knees. A dead man lay on the floor before me, his partner on the verge of insanity, and I was aroused. For the first time in my life I understood how closely entwined are sex and death.

Gabriel's eyes narrowed, and I saw the corner of his mouth move. It was almost imperceptible, but it told me he'd caught the scent of my lust and was just as stimulated. I have often wondered who decided the Grim Reaper should be a faceless, hooded robe with skeletal hands wrapped around a scythe. I mean . . . really? This is the best you could come up with to depict the specter of death? The scythe and its symbolism I got, but if anyone could see what I was looking at now, they would have no problem giving death a face.

Perhaps,
my inner bitch murmured,
they have seen him, and that's why the Grim Reaper has no face . . .

I conceded the possibility.

A palpable tension thickened the air. I didn't need Gabriel to tell me this was a side of him he had not intended me to see. At least not yet, and I could sense his frustration. Just as the decision to reveal his true vampire nature had been taken out of his hands by Katja's interference, this too was a premature disclosure forced by events outside his control. The timing, however, made no difference. It would always be wrong for any number of reasons. How I chose to handle it was the only thing that mattered.

I stepped forward, skirting the pool of blood slowly spreading from beneath Gus's inert form. Reaching for Gabriel's hand with my good one, I felt his fingers curl around mine. He radiated a power and strength that I suspected had barely been tapped.