Chapter Two
Trixie crossed the empty alcove, her footsteps echoing against the stone floor. The room reminded her of a dungeon that she’d seen in a few movies, and those movies could have used a few pointers from this place. The light guided her into a long hallway. It flickered through a door at the end.
Stopping at the threshold, she noted the rusty iron bars that must have been the door. Oh. So, it was a dungeon. Okay, dipshit, you walked all the way here of your own free will. No one to blame for this mess but herself.
The door was ajar. A good sign, right? She peeked inside.
Someone sat on the floor by the lit candle stand. A candelabra? People still used those? Well, she guessed the dragons did. She just assumed the place had electricity. Might be that was why she couldn’t find a light switch. And…she was rambling in her own head.
There was a man. Ink black hair streamed from his bent head, pooling on the floor around his hips. He rested his arm on his knee covered in thread bare clothes. Lifting his face, he ran his midnight gaze over her from head to toe and back again. He rose to his feet in a smooth move that spoke of a very masculine strength. He held out his hand. “Viktor Petrov at your service.” His distinct Russian accent was clear enough for her to understand him easily.
“I’m Trixie.” It felt impossibly right to place her palm against his and allow him to kiss the back of her hand. She found herself the sole focus of Viktor’s perceptive near-black eyes, the eyes of a man who was used to stripping away souls, unearthing the most deeply buried truths.
“A pleasure to meet you, Trixie. Please, come join me.” He gestured to the dirty floor as if it were a posh love seat.
“Umm, I’m good.” She stood there, still stunned at the sight of this gorgeous man a couple of inches from her. Her inner vixen purred.
God, when had she developed an inner vixen? But this guy could make nuns break their vows.
“As you wish.” His lips formed a perfect seductive smile. “I am happy you did not run.” He ran his fingers through her hair, catching a few knots in the process. “Lovely shade of pink. Neon, is it?”
“You know your hair dyes.” That was the exact name of her color.
“It is my duty to know such things. I am an artist.” He came closer. Though Viktor was beautiful, what saved him from crossing the line into a more delicate prettiness was the stubborn hardness of his jawline, the unflinching expression in his stare.
Then she noticed a metal collar around his neck.
Cotton candy hair. Viktor bet she tasted just as sweet. His fangs ached as well as other parts of his body. He had been alone in this dungeon too long, to the point of looking forward to Eoin’s short visits.
“Are you a present?” Viktor scanned her beige one-piece jumpsuit. A zipper ran up the center and there were various stains on the material.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She quirked her head, possibly insulted. He was not sure. His mind still rang with the echoes from endless nights of bloodlust and, to be honest, human women… Well, women in general, confused him when he was sober. They said no when they meant yes and yes when they meant no. Then changed the rules and said no when they meant no. Or was it purple?
Wait, what was he thinking about?
He scratched his chin.
Dinner cleared her throat. “What did you mean by a present? I’m not a delivery person, if that’s what you meant.”
Honesty would probably send her running, but lying was too difficult of a concept for him to grasp yet. His mind was a honeycomb of instincts and his brain was oozing out of the holes his hunger had caused. “Sometimes Eoin hires professionals to feed me, but they tend to dress more—” He couldn’t think of the word.
“Professional,” she offered. Her eyes were wide, not with fear, but with wonder.
Viktor smirked. “You are good.” The innocence was believable and adorable. She was a very good actress. He would have to get her business card. She struck all his bells with just the right tone, and after hundreds of years, his bells were so cracked he was shocked by his reaction. “I wanted to say more seductive, but this outfit…” He rubbed the thick material between his fingers. “It works for me. Modern working girl, not afraid to get dirty.” He leaned in and inhaled. Under the usual city smells, he scented strawberries, coffee, and canines.
They jerked away from each other simultaneously.
“I’m not who you think I am.” She edged toward the door and out of his range. “You said you knew the location of the cat kennels.”
He opened his mouth but nothing came out. He scratched his head and marched back to where he had been sitting. “You were serious? You are looking for what again?” She smelled strongly of canine. Not wolf. Their scents were close but someone with an acute nose could tell the difference easily. It was like the variance between grapefruit and oranges. One was tart, and the other sweet and tasty.
“Cat kennels.” She spoke slower as if he had cognitive trouble, which in some way he did—had. He was better. She used her hands to make a box shape. “Small cages in which to carry small animals.”
“Eoin did not send you?” Maybe he was not as recovered as he had thought. “Are you real, Trixie?”
She dropped her hands. “What the hell is going on here? Of course, I’m real. How long have you been down here?”
“A few days? Maybe weeks. It is difficult to remember.” Viktor grinned and closed the distance between them. That familiar smell could only mean one thing. “Are you a weredog?” He and Eoin had had a running argument of their existence. He believed if the wolf variety existed so should the other. With all the other were-animals in the world, why not dog? Yet the dragon kept pointing out the obvious. Where were the dog packs if they existed? Viktor believed they were too evolved to require packs, or too rare.
“No,” she dragged out her answer. “Why would you think that?”
“Your smell. Why do you smell so much of dog?”
She winced. “It’s my job. I’m an animal control officer so I deal with lots of dogs.”
He sighed. One day he would prove the dragon wrong, but today was not the one.
Trixie gave a small laugh. “You look so disappointed. Do weredogs even exist?”
The sound of her amusement was pure sunshine. “Yes, but I have yet to find one.” He winked. “Come into the light. I want to see you better.”
She glanced at the open cell door.
“I will not hurt you. The thought of being alone again is threat enough to guard you against harm.” He held out his hand and noticed the dirt under his nails, the threadbare material of his clothes. Prince Charming, he did not resemble.
Ignoring his hand, she circled him. Her gaze focused on his collar.
Viktor twisted to follow, the chain connecting him to the wall dragged across the stone floor.
Her gasp echoed within the dungeon. “You’re chained up like an animal.” She crossed to the silver infused hardware affixed to the thick wall of his prison and tugged.
He gave her an incredulous stare. “If I cannot break these bonds, then neither will you.” He peeled away her fingers from the chain, noting she had scraped her hand. She was sweet. He kissed her palm and licked her wound, her taste an ambrosia. So very sweet. He moaned as the flavor coated his tongue. Her innocence was not an act. “Virgin,” he murmured.
She yanked away. “How did you know that?” She tucked her hands under her arms.
Viktor stared at his empty palms. The sound of her pulse was a song in his ears, her taste lingering in his mouth. He wanted more. He wanted it all. A tremble shook his hands. He could not do it. He had fought too hard to regain what was left of his sanity. No matter how tempting the morsel. Or her rarity.
“Hey,” she whispered and cupped his face. She drew his chin up until their gazes locked. “I’m going to help you, okay?” She traced her fingers along the collar.
Help him. He was the most dangerous creature in the city, bar Eoin. She was the one who needed help.
“I can’t even see a seam. How was it put on?”
“Eoin welds it shut.”
She slowed her assessment. “He welded while you were wearing it?”
He nodded and took advantage of her proximity to smell her hair. Now he smelled the human. Her outfit had thrown off his senses.
“Didn’t it burn you?” Her eyes were wide again. Blue eyes, like the sky and the sea.
“Yes.” He could barely speak. His fangs had fully extended. “You should go now.”
“But—but…” Her gaze fell upon his mouth. “Big teeth.”
He pulled back his lips so she could see better.
She swallowed visibly. “Vampire?”
He nodded, waiting for the screams. Maybe, if he was lucky, she would find a stake and end him. He deserved nothing less.
“You exist?”
He blinked.
“I mean, I always suspected but you never came out with the other supernaturals.” She eased back toward the exit. “Is that why you’re locked down here? Because you’re a vampire?”
“No.” He leaned against the wall, holding the chain. “I am here of my own free will.”
She stopped in her tracks. “You want to be chained down here?” Her reaction was adorable and her concern awoke a slumbering desire.
Viktor had not liked someone in a very long time. Trixie made it difficult to dislike her. “Not anymore. I was a danger to the city.” And a bigger danger to her. He destroyed everything he cared about.
“And now you’re not?” she asked, still not moving away like she should.
“You are still alive, are you not? I think, maybe, I can be trusted to go free again.” He stalked toward her, growling low in his throat, reminding her monsters still hid in the dark. “If you see the dragons, please let them know I would like to go home.”
She spun on her heel and ran.
He let her escape and shouted after her, “Sorry I lied about the kennels.”