Zauran (18 page)

Look at me Zaria.

I refuse, sealing my eyes shut, terror pumping my heart loud as a foghorn.

JOWENDRHAN!
I yell mentally.

But this time nothing happens.

Zaria, open your fucking eyes or I'll kiss you right here in front of your sisters and my brother, and you can explain
that
to Zauran.

Dread devours my dreams as I open my eyes, meeting the power and instant hold of purple magic.

These two are not my sisters.

Wrong, Zaria. There's a lot we learned today, but right now little one I need you to be docile and obedient for me, okay? No shouting or running, you are coming like a demure woman so we
can get you somewhere safe. Zauran and Jowendrhan are both missing, there was a lot of blood and something entirely too supernatural to be good for your health, or ours. I need to get you home so we can figure out what the hell is attacking us. Now is not the time to fight, let us protect you, for fuck's sake, alright?

Bullshit!
I hiss back.

It's a mistake because the power of his mojo floods into my veins, weakening my knees and swamping my torso. My mind is  completely sequestered by his will.

Unable to object my body moves without my permission, while his smug voice licks the underside of my soul,
The things I could do to you three now.

There's a dreadful gap of silence before he murmurs so low I barely catch it.
Who would stop me? No one.

He pauses in front of me briefly while Sveta leads Phoebe and Božena away from us,
Closer than your shadow Zaria. Closer than your soul. If you think Zauran is powerful you have no idea who I am
or
what I'm capable of.

He steps closer, swirling the haze into my lungs, hiding me with his wide shoulders from passersby, and I'm breathing in temptation and lust and shivering delights.

I chose you first, sweetheart. Phoebe is my
second
choice.

I'm pregnant,
I blurt out, forcing my voice into his head with pure panic.

He smiles, pulling me deeper under his spell, “We'll see about that.”

With a muscular arm wrapped possessively around me, I'm corralled back outside onto the lip of the hectic Bulevar, directly into a waiting car. It's so busy, the time of day so rushed, that no one will notice us being kidnapped.

I can't scream, curse, kick, or run.

Forced onto a luxurious black leather padded seat, his warm big body slides in next to mine, his hold never releasing me.

The door slams closed with the finality of judgment and the vehicle starts maneuvering into the other lane.

Helpless, I stare out of the window at a world smashed with supernatural wind. Skirts, clothes, and hair, are whipped by the gale howling through Belgrade. The wind is so unbelievably ruthless it makes the
trees look like they are doing yoga.

We've tipped the balance. We've done something terrible and now we're going to pay.

A thumb runs up and down my nape, his hand still holding my neck in the manner of a leash on an animal he knows will break for freedom at the first opportunity. The wind rocks the car, and the sky is so dark it looks like twilight beyond the tinted black windows.

It's unsettling that catastrophe is breathing at us while the engine purrs as if it's a domesticated kitty for the man driving.

As I notice Sveta's marigold eye dust completely embalming Phoebe and
Božena,
Ryan's hand tightens marginally on my skin, his voice coming back,
I've waited an eternity to meet you Zaria. It's time we had a little privacy, just you and me.

Oh cripes.

Chapter 17

Zauran
:

Every spike of my pulse sends suffering through my body. It's agonizing, drawing breath is purgatory.

Inhaling is torment.

“
Zauran!”

My eyes are so swollen they can't open. Forced to suck in shuddering air through my lips, I sound like a monster being strangled.

Unable to see, I grunt a response.

“
What the hell were you thinking, Zauran?”

'It' sneers my name. 'It' sounds male.

Furnace heat stabs between my shoulders, sinking terror into my spine, ripping my soul in half with obliterating agony.

My spirit is yelling
abort,
abort
, through me. It's the only thought taking precedence, save for one image. Zaria.

Flinching away from the source of torture, chains scrape over stone, halting the buck and reflexive lunge to escape the executioner.

Manacled, blind, I'm at the mercy of a deranged avenger.

“
You broke my laws, Zauran.”

The voice is so loud I feel as if he's speaking with a loud-hailer against each of my ears, forcing searing hell right through my eye sockets and into my head.

Tears course from the pain, the shock hammering my heart into froth.

Laws?

Who the fuck are you?

*

Jowendrhan
:

My leg is pounding where my kneecap popped, and no matter how hard I try to heal myself the fucker just keeps attacking me so I'm back to square one.

Crawling over coarse ground, stony ground, I battle to get away, with chains scraping like harsh snake scales along with me... until I run out of length.

Desperate, bracing against the movement I sense around me, something sharp and white-hot stabs into me, holding me down in my own sweat and blood on the cold floor.

It's shredding me, inch by painful inch, my entire body going into spasm with the howl of agony chaffing my throat.

“
Jowendrhan!” it roars, echoes, like we're in a hollow cavern deep inside perdition.

Panting, my lip torn from my own teeth, blood thick in my mouth and rasping every ragged inhalation, I listen over the bashing cacophony of the pulse in my ears.

“
What the hell were you thinking, Jowendrhan?”

He says my name as if it tastes foul on his tongue, but his voice is strangely familiar to me.

My other knee pops, and I'm shrieking, grabbing for the appendage when something solid stands on my arm and grinds the bones in my wrist.

“
You broke my laws, Jowendrhan.”

It's said so close to my face I can smell the fire in his breath.

I know you!

“
They're naw yer laws,” I mumble over swollen lips and tongue, through shattered teeth. “Yar hithtory, motherfahka.”

His answering laugh splices my skin, my blood gushing out, coating me with ticklish fever except for the fear now annihilating my logic.

I'm going to fucking die!

*

Božena
:

Opening my eyes, it takes me a moment to realize I'm staring down the barrel of a gun.

Snapping upright, scrambling back until I connect with a wall, I'm overcome with trembling.

“
Who are you?”

Why the fuck are you pointing a gun at me?

Darting my focus away from him, I absorb my surroundings in a quick glance. It's an unfurnished room with just this bed in it, the rest is simply waxy green wall which seems backlit, giving the room an alien glow.

“
Vampyre are not welcome in my home, Božena. You are the first, and I intend to ensure you are the last.”

He's huge, tall, handsome, and malevolent.

He's... that... that guy!

“
Yes, we've met. Briefly. You stumbled in Pravus and I helped you regain your balance.”

“
What... why... me?”

“
Scream all you want. Bash the walls and holler for your lover, this is a prison where no vampyre can save you.”

“
What do you want with me?!”

His aim at my head doesn't falter, but his eyes do soften with that dangerous smile. “Your maker is incapacitated, we presume. He left behind a lot of blood and... bits... He won't be coming to rescue you or your vampyre pod.”

Memories flood back and it's instinct to cover my belly with both hands. The man has a gun for chrissake!

“
I've done nothing to you! Let me go.”

I have to get out of here. I need food - rest. I need help because I don't know what the hell Jowendrhan did to me. I'm not sure if I imagined the stranger with burnt-whiskey hair and his weird orange light, the fever hit me pretty damn hard.

Whose baby is in my belly?

My vision prickles with panic and tears blur the glorious but deadly man.

Maybe I should take the bullet and be done with it. It's mercy.

“
I've got it.” Another deep voice croons into the room, but I'm too shattered to look. Too afraid.

“
Ryan leave. I'll take care of Božena,” the new voice insists.

“
The way you did this morning? I won't have rape under my roof, do you hear me boy?”

“
Fuck you! Call me boy again and I'll tear your fucking heart out.”

The deafening boom in close quarters bursts sweat from every pore, my ears sing, and I'm whimpering so loud in my own head I curl in on myself against the wall.

Jesus! Help!

The hand on my shoulder bullets me off the bed.

Skittish, I dive for the opposite wall, snapping back to face them, waiting for the next bang to plant metal between my eyes.

My legs are caving, I need to pee so bad, but then I notice that mysterious man from my dream holding his shoulder where crimson seeps over his fingers. The black haired psycho keeps advancing and I cave to my instincts, releasing a scream of desperation.

Hysterical, I launch into attack, knowing I have to fight to the death - because I'm dead either way.

*

Zaria
:

Just my rotten luck. Dammit!

His home is gorgeous except for the fact that it's a bunker like Venix's house. No windows has become a dead giveaway. How many supernatural families remain out of sight below ground and we don't even know it?

The walls are the lemon and lime shades of serpentinite stone which means we are cut off from calling for help mentally. They'd have to be psychic to find us now.

And what did he mean
blood?

I look across to my companions. Aisyx and Phoebe have hit it off. I can't believe how freaking calm this woman is in a crisis. She's made for emergencies.

“
So you're mortal, and he is too?” Aisyx interrogates with flirtatious fascination.

“
I wonder if that would work on you?” she says, tilting her head and surveying him.

“
Ask a woman to forgive me? I don't think so Phoebe. If neuri are anything, we're proud. We tend to curl up and die, or lick our wounds in private, rather than ask for help,” Aisyx says to her, all pally pally.

God! Get me the fuck out of here! Zauran and Jo are in danger and these two are carrying on like they're having afternoon tea.

I lose their conversation from my end of the lounge when Ryan walks in through the spacious opening to the next room, which leads to the next, and the next, like an opulent maze of indulgence.

He looks my way, unbuttoning the shirt which made him look so yummy earlier.

“
I won't be a minute, Zaria. I just need a new shirt.”

And while I'm watching, he stalks to the end of the deep room where a wide black desk waits.

Yanking the shirt off, he reaches into a drawer, pulling a white cloth out and wiping his face of... oh cripes! That's blood!

Bolting out of my chair, I walk fast over to him, trying to circumvent Phoebe's watchful eye.

“
Are you okay?” I whisper when I reach him, doing a brilliant job of not staring at the most sculpted chest and abs I've ever seen.

“
I'm fine,” he says, dropping the blood speckled cotton onto the desk and opening a concealed door.

Withdrawing a new black shirt, he shrugs it on and starts buttoning it up. He's definitely the formal one out of the three brothers. It suits him. It gives him an authoritative and cultured edge.

“
Zaria, need I remind you I can hear your thoughts.” He drops his voice, leaning his fists on the desk to stare me in the eye, “And I love that you harbor such appreciative musings about me.”

“
Oh fuck off.” Snapping my focus to the desk, the closet, the walls, the expensive furnishings, I change the subject, “Why do you have blood on your face? Are you the one hiding Zauran?”