Ravenous (29 page)

Alessandro looked at her with heat in his eyes, possessive and urgent. "I will not allow that to happen."

That old-time caveman philosophy had never sounded so good. "Promise?"

He laid his hand over his heart and smiled faintly. "I don't share well."

More bouncers waited outside a cheap bead curtain that separated the basement storage from the area Omara was using. They stood aside as Alessandro approached. Holly followed him past the guards, listening to the beads clack and swish behind them. They had come through three layers of security, and she was growing fretful about getting back out.

Two steps led down to a large semifinished room, obviously chosen for safety more than style. It was the last place anyone would expect to find a queen. The walls were bare concrete, the ceiling a network of pipes and beams. A balding indoor-outdoor carpet in orange paisley covered the floor. Rather than overhead lighting, candles ringed the room, stuck in tin cans and jars. The only concession to comfort was a collection of lumpy, overstuffed chairs and couches ringing the room. It was, in a word, awful.

And scary. Vampires were everywhere: sitting, standing, slouching against the unfinished walls. A quick count tallied at least thirty, all young-looking, all dressed for dancing at the club upstairs. The room hummed with a vibe both melancholy and wired, manic and depressive all at once—the essence of vamp. A few heads turned as they entered, eyes flaring with a catlike glow. Feeling suddenly tender and juicy, Holly wished she knew an invisibility spell.

At the head of the carpet, a female vampire rose from a faux-leather recliner.
So this is Queen Omara
. Holly tried to guess the queen's age or even her ancestry, but failed.

"My queen." Alessandro dropped to one knee, bowing his head. "I have brought our guest."

Conversation ceased, the other vampires turning their pale faces to watch. The queen's glance flickered over Holly like a physical pressure. Omara wore a long, pleated tunic of gold-painted silk, her feet bare except for intricate henna tracery. As Alessandro rose, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Her lips parted as she looked up into his face, and Holly saw the dainty tips of her fangs.

The queen turned to Holly. Lifting one hennaed forefinger, she placed it between Holly's eyes. "Kneel when I approach you, human. I am Omara, the Queen of Night Predators."

Her will suspended, Holly sank to the floor.

"Greetings, little witch," she said, leaving the finger between Holly's eyes. "I wonder, shall I be your friend or your foe? Your friend, I hope."

Holly tried to speak, but her tongue was suddenly too dry.

"Forgive the accommodations, but a place so very hidden allows us to make our plans undisturbed. You catch us at an unfortunate time." Omara withdrew her finger. "I need your help. Together, perhaps we can defeat this demon."

Omara bent over until their noses nearly touched. "If I help you, will you help me?"

Alessandro stiffened, but the queen raised a hand to silence him. The room seemed empty, the other vampires still as paintings. Holly could hear the hiss as one of the cheap candles flared and sputtered, filling the air with a whiff of oily smoke.

Holly sucked in a reluctant breath. "I know what happened to Elaine Carver. I know she died in your fight against Geneva. I'd still rather go down fighting than have her do to me what she did to Mac. I think we can do business."

She felt the brush of Alessandro's fingers in her hair. She glanced up to see the cool look Omara gave him. The queen was possessive, but of what? Alessandro's affections? Or did she want a pet witch all to herself?

Alessandro's hand stayed on her head, marking his claim while she remained on her knees. She was grateful for his protection, but the whole subservience-and-domination thing was wearing thin. Her knees hurt from the hard floor.

Ignoring Alessandro, Omara brushed the hair from Holly's forehead. It was more than a physical touch. She could feel the queen's power inside her mind, flickering like the brush of an insect's wings.

"Interesting," said Omara. "Still, it must be done."

"What?" Alessandro asked.

Omara studied Holly, her expression grave. "Geneva, through her servant, has infected you with her touch. There is only one way to combat the Dark Larceny. Fight fire with fire."

That didn't sound good. "What do you mean?"

"You cannot eliminate the infection, but you can counter it with something equally strong."

"How?"

"A vampire must claim you. Mark you."

There was a babble of comment in the room.

"No!" cried Alessandro, silencing every other voice. "I will not permit it."

Holly's stomach clenched from her tailbone clear to her throat. Venom could addict, but a vampire's mark was stronger. It made the victim a vampire's slave.
So not going there
.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Aren't there antipossession spells?"

Omara gave a slight shake of her head. "No, my little witch. There is no one who knows more demon magic than I, and this is my solution."

"There has to be another way," Alessandro growled.

"The poison already eats at your soul, little witch. Do you really want to risk the wait? I can sense that your powers are already compromised. The natural immunities of a witch are present, but they cannot act at full strength."

"What are you saying?" Holly breathed, her veins turning to lead. Kneeling made her feel small, like a child. Helpless. That was probably the point.

"A mortal would already be feeling the effects. I would say that, at most, you have a day or two of resistance left. No more. Then you will become hungry, like your policeman friend."

"No!" Holly got to her feet, staggering in her haste.

Alessandro caught her. "This is wrong! There must be other ways."

"Would you lose her to the demons, Caravelli?" Omara snapped. "She would have no choice then but to work against us."

"But if we mark her, she loses her freedom of will."

Holly turned in his arms, searching out his eyes. The spectators whispered, their words sibilant, like the last dry, dead leaves of November. She tried to push the heat of their interest from her mind. This wasn't a moment to be shy.

"Would I have more freedom if you took me?" she asked. "More than the Dark Larceny?"

"Yes," said Omara. "And you could still fight the demons."

"I won't do it," said Alessandro.

Omara waved a hand. "Then I will mark her with my own bite. That or she is executed. I can't let Geneva have a Carver witch as her weapon."

Alessandro grabbed Holly's arm. "She is mine!"

"Wait a minute!" The hair rose on Holly's nape. "Wait an effing minute! I'm right here! I get a vote. No executions. No biting, either."

Omara's eyes went hard as agate. "It's your choice, little witch. Let us cure you, or die. We can save your personality, your soul. A demon's power destroys both."

Holly's overriding instinct was to flee, but Alessandro's grip shackled her. A wise precaution. Running in a roomful of predators was less than smart.

"I'm going now," she said. "I feel fine. Mac was sick. I'm not."

Omara shook her head. "It is already working in you. I can smell it."

"Then I want a cure. One with no puncture wounds."

"There is no cure." Omara reached for her.

Pure panic struck. Every ounce of magic in Holly's body exploded outward. White phosphorescence streaked through the room, popping like old-fashioned flashbulbs. Howls of outrage rose where shadows used to be, blinded vampires clawing at their eyes. Holly screamed, pain rending her flesh. She thought she smelled burning, but her senses reeled, skewed, a juddering nonsense of taste and smell.

Her lashing power fizzled, useless. There was light, but no force behind it.

This isn't right.

Her magic was completely scrambled.

Did the demon poison do this?

Sudden dizziness overtook Holly. She dropped to her hands and knees hard. For a moment she was immobile. Crawling away seemed a good option, but her limbs would not obey. An itching, creeping sensation trickled over her, as if her skin were unzipping in a hundred places.

Alessandro bent over her, his image wavering. He touched her cheek, and his hand seemed like ice. "It's already started," he said. "I have to do something. I'm the lesser evil, I hope. I will give you what freedom I can."

Before Holly could react, Alessandro's arm slid behind her waist, lifting Holly to a sitting position. She could smell the leather of his coat, a rich smell edged with the faint bitterness of tobacco and blood.

The whispers of the spectators knitted into words.
He's doing it. He's going to take the witch
.

She fumbled for her magic, wanting some last line of protection, but it crumbled, spent and dry.

"I've dreamed of this," he said. He ran his fingers over the curve of her ear with gentle possessiveness. The touch, barely felt, made her belly tighten. He was radiating need like a fire gave off warmth, his ache setting hers ablaze.

Ah! How silly she is
. The vampires crowded close, shutting off what fresh air there was in the dank basement.
Look, she's still fighting back. Like that will help anything
.

"This is way too public." She put her hands against his chest, but she had no strength.
I'm helpless
. A new panic, one that she had never felt before, began to rise like cold, foul water.
I'm afraid of him. Really afraid
.

"Hush, don't talk," he replied.

"No!"

Lips met lips in a hungry crush. His sharp teeth scraped her tongue in wicked foreplay.
He's not being careful now
. He had been holding back before, always putting her safety before his pleasure. That was over, his conscience salved.
Now he is out for blood
.

Holly could feel the hungry eyes of the other vampires roving over them, every sigh rippling the air over her flesh. Tremors ran through his fingers as he stroked her shoulders, each pass trailing lightly down the backs of her arms. Holly squirmed, terrified.

"Hush," he said, catching her gaze with his eldritch golden eyes. "You said you trusted me. Believe me, Holly; I'm only doing this to save you."

Of course he is, like a spider helps its catch
. … But her misgivings fell away like melting cobwebs. A pleasant calm stole over Holly, making her forget her last thought. She slid her hands beneath the cool leather of his coat. Silk greeted her fingers as she ran her hands over the sleek tailoring of his shirt. Now the surveilling eyes seemed to heighten the moment, as if she were experiencing arousal and watching it all at once.

He has hypnotized me
. He had done it so lightly.

But the fear was gone. He already had possession of her mind.

One of the spectators reached out, touching her cheek. The hand was cold as the grave, the touch of an Undead who had not taken blood for too long.

Alessandro batted the questing hand away. He cradled her where she sat, kissing her brow, running his lips down the edge of her jaw. Holly shuddered.

And then she felt teeth breaking through flesh—bright, tearing pain.

No
! Panic shot through her, sharp as an electric shock. Her brain sent flight messages to her limbs, but they were numb, heavy and immobile.

Venom
. It gave pleasure, but it also bestowed a mild paralysis.

A collective sigh crept around the room, the vampires slinking closer, standing on tiptoe to see. Holly's pulse hammered, trapped in the universal fear of animals about to become food. Breath, the shreds of a scream, came out in a horrified rasp.
No, no, no
!

Her scalp crawled, the ancient defense of furry creatures trying to make themselves bigger. Alessandro's tongue tenderly touched the wound at her throat, the reverent intimacy contradicting the predatory act. His lips closed around the hot, welling blood, a kiss fiercer and deeper than any yet.

And then she fell into the moment.

With a will of its own her body surged into the caress. Despite all, she burned with a sweet, smoky pain. Her skin stung from everything that touched it: air, light, the breath-soft silk of his shirt. Like something overfull, her flesh strained against its bounds. The very heat in her veins was an itch only the vampire's kiss could relieve.

He was drinking Holly's life, and her libido was begging him to take more. Some of it was the effects of the poison from those delicate fangs; some of it was pure Alessandro.

Her hands moved of their own volition, sliding over the leather of his coat, the roughness of his jeans. His muscles were coiled hard and urgent, lifting her into the painful embrace. Cradled against him, she could feel his rod-hard arousal. Her own mouth watered with sexual hunger, her hips yearning to thrust into his.

And then the mark took Holly. Waves of pleasure surged from her core outward, following the branches of her nerves in rippling arousal. She began to pant, her temperature spiking upward. Sweat slicked her skin, making her clothes slippery against her.

She felt her body arch against him as he bit down one more degree. The waves became a crashing flood of need. A hoarse cry of surrender tore from her throat. Her climax was brutal and thorough, sharp as steel.

He swallowed once, twice more and then pulled his mouth away.

Holly felt the fangs leave her flesh empty. Dismay staggered her.

I want more.

No need for invitation barred Alessandro from Holly's home. He had been there before, and now he was her master. Not even the magic of the house was a barrier. Magic was shaped and given power with will, and he had drunk down Holly's will with her blood.

Like all those bitten for the first time, Holly had collapsed moments after he had finished. She would sleep it off and wake up begging for more. It would be easy to convince her to give her aid to the queen.