Pn1 (3 page)

He kicked the car to get himself moving forward and into gear.

"Constantine?"

Constantine could taste the confusion in Jason's exhalation. Fuck

that. Jason wasn't full-alpha yet. He was picking up on Constantine's

slowness, nothing more. "Den of iniquity ready?" He wasn't going to

answer to Jason's confusion or anyone else's, not even his own. It was

the damn L.A. sun causing his blood to get too hot and smog

contaminated.

"Add her to it and it is finished." Jason stayed where he was but his

eyebrow wrinkled up before resuming the straight line of

unquestioning submission.

Constantine stuffed his fingers under the latch and snapped them

upwards until the door clicked. He pushed the limousine door open

past its comfort zone and peered inside. So, gentle when asleep.

Anything could be done to her and she would never know. Her body

didn't have to submit, it was an open invitation with her brain offline.

His jaw pushed his teeth together. Bad boy, she needed to be

trussed up, then he could imagine all he wanted while watching her.

He bent down to get her legs and pulled her across the seat until he

could grasp her waist.

Pinching her waist with his hands, he lifted her into the air and

tossed her over his shoulder. Pores on his skin sucked her scent in

through the layers of clothing separating them, making him heady

from the sheer desire to rip her clothes off and see all he had in store

for him.

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Purposely, he bent forward and hit his forehead against the car,

separating the knitting of his skin so a trace of blood remained on the

black shiny paint. His tongue came out and retrieved what he'd left

behind, recycling his own power back into him. The jolt cleared his

head. He backed up, ready to face Jason's look of consternation and

to ignore it.

Constantine marched forward savvy that Jason would get out of his

way. Her breasts pressed into his back with each inhalation, her

exhalations skimming over his back with the tangy smell permeating

his entire being. He couldn't prevent his mind from taking a small

tangential moment to imagine his own lips sealed over hers, taking her

breath from her.

The image made his lips part, but he forced them closed and made

it abundantly clear that his goals overrode any lustful interactions

unless she turned. And if she didn't, well he wasn't a necromancer and

had no interest in lifeless bodies when the blood no longer roamed

freely but rather turned to sludge.

He hoped for both their sakes she wouldn't make him take that

route. Joe Smith would appreciate it too, since he was the patsy for

the murder charges as the mover behind the kidnapping.

As Constantine foresaw, Jason moved backwards and turned to lead

him to the lair. Telepathy intrigued Constantine, because it made him

live in the future and relive the present. He'd already known what

Jason would do and had watched it happen before it did.

But with Helena Palmer, he couldn't read an unconscious person

and that both intrigued and unnerved him. The future was an

unknown entity when it came to her, and telepathy always worked

better on intimates.

He followed Jason through the passage ways that lead to the heart

of the meat shipping warehouse. Nothing living on two feet had

resided here in years, but he dank mildew infested place was full of

scampering critters wary of the intrusion.

He pitied the rats that feared their home was under invasion from

monsters, just the way the humans had invaded the vampire lairs eons

ago outside of human memory or written word. Constantine altered

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his scent to one the rats would relate to as friendly and listened for the

skittering to quiet down. He pitied them, but she wasn't going to be

on their feasting menu either. Altering his scent slightly again, he

made it clear that staying away would be for everyone's best.

Jason walked through a door ahead and stopped. Constantine

sensed Jason's nervousness, waiting for approval. That meant

Constantine was about to see what Jason had rigged as the holding

pen.

Constantine walked sideways through the door to get his bulky

body through it without confronting the hinges with her head. He

moved in front of Jason and looked around. Not bad, not bad at all.

Metal tracks for the meat hooks to be moved around on had been

rerouted to enter the room and run its length. On one end of the

tracks, a makeshift bathroom of toilet and sink had been fashioned

from water pipes running along the walls; on the other end, the floor

was covered with thick-piled oriental rugs and body sized pillows for

easy lounging. One lone meat hook hung from the tracks over the

pillows and carpets.

He placed Helena on the carpet, face up. "Do you have the rope?"

Jason came over with white nylon rope coiled in figure eights.

"Marine quality to take her weight and not collapse under the

tension."

Constantine nodded. "Hold her up for me so I can get her tied up."

He took the rope from Jason and let the first loop snake through his

fingers so only the end was left in his hand and the rest coiled on the

floor.

A growl escaped his clenched jaws at seeing Jason bracing her

upright.

"Hey man, you told me to touch her." Jason stared him straight in

the chin then looked down.

Constantine bit down on his tongue until blood broke through the

surface of his taste buds. The metallic flavor of blood always calmed

him down into a duller roar.

Pulling the rope with him, he towered behind Helena and yanked

her loose head up by a wad of strands he caught in his free hand. He

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tugged harder than necessary to get her head in his direction, and

enveloped her hair up in his fist.

Her hair was delectably cool. It had already shed the heat of L.A.

and was taking on the quality of the dankness he found so appealing.

Constantine adjusted his sack with the rope hand, and as he looked

over Helena's head caught Jason giving him a quizzical look. Maybe

Jason was leaving his team sooner than expected. The guy thought

too much, good for an alpha bad for an underling with ideas of

grandeur. Spark or not, Jason had to stay around long enough for an

opportunity, an opportunity that might be cut short with many more

looks.

Constantine forced Helena's hair into a ponytail and placed the

standing end against her hair. With the working end, he hitched it

around her hair and plaited it, fashioning a hair corset around the

locks that wanted to billow out in all directions. Each knot bit into

strands of her hair, holding her down for his will.

With the last twist, he was nearly out of rope, but her hair was now

fully trussed up. In a double overhand bend, he joined a new coil and

wove the loose ends up into the corset. Forming a hangman's knot on

the long end, he carried the noose in his hand as he reached out for the

step stool Jason had deposited against the wall. Opening up the ladder

under the meat hook, he brought the noose to the hook and opened its

clasp to fit the loop inside before letting the clasp spring shut with a

live carcass hanging from the end.

Coming down, he kicked the stool away. "Get it out of here."

Jason nodded and let Helena fall into whatever position her body

chose to collapse in. Her hair stood upright from her head, letting her

head get closer to the floor, but not enough to lie down.

Constantine pushed her sideways and stuffed pillows under her

head. He could still smell Jason's touch on her and kicked the

shoulder Jason's hand had dirtied with pheromones, watching her hair

swing from the ceiling in a dizzying figure eight.

His fingers itched to shorten the hanging part so her feet just grazed

the floor. What would she do, kick and scream or go comatose from

the pain of hanging by nothing but hair? Constantine shook his head.

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He had to go slow and build up with this one. Potential did not equate

to a given in his world and even one with the blood as strong as hers

could fail to crystallize into what he needed. She had to turn and still

be his or she was another casualty in the ongoing war.

* * * *

as if under water and bloated with stones weighing her down.. Why

couldn't she move? Was this another one of those games/tortures her

brothers found so funny and ended with her screaming her head off

until her mom came to rescue her?

And what about the taste in her mouth, –it tasted awful.

Swallowing only intensified the taste and coated more of her throat

with the sticky residue that clung and refused to finish the descent into

her stomach.

Her eyes tried to bulge out and push open her lids but there was

resistance. She didn't wear a mask at night so why wouldn't her lids

give up their seal? Sure the darkness was nice and soothing, but she

couldn't live in the dark forever; she had mergers to see to.

Clearly she'd been asleep too long and her body was in a routine rut

and didn't want it to end. She began with her toes. There wasn't any

pain there whereas the other end was the complete opposite. It felt

like her hair was falling out and someone had scalped her.

Toes worked, a bit cramped like she'd fallen asleep in her shoes but

there was definite movement. Same with her ankles, they moved

unwillingly but there was enough friction to make her wonder if her

stockings were still on. Weird, she never slept with her clothes on.

"Constantine, she's waking up."

Was that a voice outside or inside her head? It was so hard to tell.

She didn't know a Constantine so maybe she was still asleep and

dreaming what, that she was in a black vortex with a voice drifting

around her?

"I'll take it from here. Leave us."

Different voice, but there was something familiar about it, or

something she hoped would become familiar. Parts of her body

moved on their own with no prompting from that voice alone, and

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there was no doubt where her thighs met now. The voice had added a

layer of warmth to her body which had been previously missing and

made her muscles tingle into wakefulness.

Each twitch of her muscles got her brain to start processing back

data and fill her in to the present moment. There had been an eviction

then a car with a really hot driver. She'd told the driver to take her to

the hotel, but after that the data broke down. Oh, wait she'd drunk

champagne then it all went black as if someone had wiped her hard

drive of pertinent information so she couldn't go through with her

plans.

But that didn't explain why her head was under so much pain and

her neck ached, or why she was beginning to feel trapped in the

blackness that previously had been so pleasant.

"Come on, Helena, open your eyes. You might as well get it over

with."

That voice saying her name drove pin pricks up and down her body.

Part of her wanted to flay him alive and the other wanted to take him

for all the pleasure she could squeeze out of his cock. Okay clearly

there was some information that was being kept from her conscious

mind. Only one way to solve the myriad of desires rushing to take

over her body, and that was to open her eyes and then determine

whether she was getting laid or going up on murder charges.

Helena labored until her eyes flicked open. Reality was a disaster,

too many discordant inputs overloading her system; she felt dizzy and

nauseous.

"I'd sit up if you're going to throw up. I'd hate to see you ruin your

white blouse, but then I would get to clean you up, all the way down

to your skin. So go for it if you want."

Helena forced her eyes to work together to focus on the source of

the voice. What the ... chauffeur's face but the clothes were all

different? Instead of the black suit and bow tie his legs were leather

clad and his shoulders and pecs kept the sleeveless red shirt from

slipping as he moved. The fewest buttons necessary to keep the shirt

on were cinched, leaving his hair-dusted chest to show flecks of gold

in the candlelight.

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"Glad you could join us, no fun if you sleep through it."

His words got under her skin, making the hair on the back of her