Chapter Three
The storm howled, splintering the calm night. Wind whipped, snapping through the trees. The brilliant rays of the moon cast an enchanting glow over the ice covered landscape. Gabriel stood still in the shadows of the forest. His gaze sharp, he analyzed the surrounding area. A frozen lake separated him from his prey—and the woman they had taken from him.
Death whispered encouragements in his ear, exciting his demon. Unfortunately, killing his enemies wasn’t on the agenda for the evening…but plans could change. His gloved fingers flexed, stretching the leather. He was eager to feel bones snap under his grasp and hear the satisfying crack.
Gannon came to stand beside him. “Ready?”
Gabriel rolled his wide shoulders and cocked his head to the side, loosening his muscles. He was more than ready. His blood thrummed with anticipation. God, he’d never been so keyed up in his life. He’d craved movement. Action. Caged by the sun, he had no choice but to wait out the day. The suspense had grown stronger with every passing hour. Gabriel had paced the study of the safe-house, reviewing their plan again and again. There could be no holes, no mistakes. Only success. When the damned musical clock played down to the last hour, he showered and donned a fresh black suit. Sitting on the edge of his desk, his arms crossed and his leather clad hands balled in tight fists, he’d watched the last minutes tick by with a hard, predatory stare.
With the rise of the moon, Gabriel, Gannon, and their soldiers boarded the private jets. To Gabriel, the three hour flight had been an eternity and the thirty minute drive to the border of Mukwa territory tested his sanity. He now teetered on the edge of madness. With the auction house in sight he ruthlessly battled the urge to kill, to dominate, to claim what was his.
His torment would end tonight. By rescuing the mortal woman he’d free himself of this crazed obsession and all the unwanted emotions that came with it. He’d save Jordan, find a way to replace her hateful memories, and be done with her. The blessed numbness of an emotionless existence would return and he’d continue until he’d achieved his endgame.
Solid plan.
Gabriel’s eyes flickered. A cruel smile touched his lips as he studied the crescent moon. “It’s time.”
Gannon unscrewed the lid of the small jar he held. The neon purple liquid bubbled and fizzed. “Do we sip it or—” His words ended with a dry heave. “God, it reeks.”
Gabriel took the jar and downed half the potion. Handing it back to Gannon he replied, “It doesn’t taste nearly as bad as it smells.”
Gannon frowned down at the purple sludge. “Down the hatch.” He plugged his nose and finished the witch’s brew. Sputtering and coughing, he cursed.
“It tastes a thousand times worse,” Gabriel added with a dark laugh.
Gannon shot him a deadly glare and flipped him off.
Gabriel chuckled. He’d used changeling potion in the past and knew it would be foul. He could’ve warned Gannon, but where was the fun it that?
The magic worked in seconds. Gannon’s black hair lightened, his hazel eyes turned brown, and the sharp lines of his face became round. His Second was completely unrecognizable.
“Holy hell,” Gannon gasped between coughs. “Twinsies.”
Sharing the potion meant they’d look the same. To hide their similarities, Gabriel pulled a black and white paisley bandana from his suit pocket. He tied it around his face then grabbed his fedora from its resting place atop the hood of the white Hummer.
Smiling, Gabriel said, “Maybe you should chew on some bark, it might help with the aftertaste.”
Gannon glanced toward the trees in contemplation and roughly cleared his throat.
Gabriel bit back another laugh. “Come on. Our enemies won’t wait forever and we’ve got a deadline.”
They had to be smart with their time. The magic would only last a handful of hours. If the potion wore off too soon, they’d be screwed. Boras’s men would execute them on sight.
Gannon grinned, “Nice get up. You look like a character from Grand Theft Auto.”
Ignoring the accurate observation, Gabriel went over the plan again, “We’ll check in. Keep your eyes open. Note every exit, every guard, and every weapon. I’ll inspect the viewing room to confirm the woman is here.”
All signs of humor vanished from Gannon’s eyes. Focused, he added, “We’ll meet at our seats. You’ll bet. You’ll win. I’ll come back to the Hummer and wait. The men are stationed along the tree line of the lake ready to provide cover fire or back up, if needed. Once you’re clear we’ll converge and roll out.”
“Unless shit goes down,” Gabriel finished.
Gannon nodded. “You’ve got the tracker?”
In unison, they peeled back the leather glove of their right hands, revealing the tracking bracelets they wore. If they or their men came under attack, they could tap the tracker, sending vibrations to everyone in Morse code. Constant communication was key on such a deadly mission.
“You sure you want to handle the exchange alone?” Gannon asked for the fifth time that night. “I don’t feel right leaving you in the enemy camp.”
Gabriel’s stiff nod and hard stare told Gannon not to broach the subject again. “Be here. Be ready.” With that, he turned and stepped from the safety of the trees. Gannon fell in step beside him, their footfalls leaving no trace on the snow dusted ice of the frozen lake.
The quaint tri-level farm house outwardly betrayed nothing of its purpose, but the line of expensive vehicles and posted guards clearly stated this was no ordinary home.
Mimicking other attendees, Gabriel silently presented the sentries with the invitation he’d found. After spraying the card with a light mist of vampire blood, the men stepped aside and permitted them entry.
The interior of the home boasted no signs of its country roots, remodeled with an open floor plan and a sleek, ultra-modern design. The walls, floors, and furnishings were a combination of stark white, deep black, and stainless steel. Soft lighting and thick black full length curtains over all the windows provided a false sense of warmth. The kitchen, located to the right, had been transformed into a full service bar, complete with a tiered blood fountain. A grand staircase constructed of metal and glass stood proudly in the center of the great room. Gabriel scanned the area, noting every vampire in attendance. He’d expected to see Boras’s closest, strongest allies and he wasn’t disappointed, but there were a number present that he hadn’t anticipated. Anyone who he hadn’t killed or imprisoned that possessed even a crumb of power was here tonight. Several noteworthy men and women sat at the bar. Each had sworn to remain neutral until the end of the war—they’d support and vow loyalty to the victor—but attending Boras’s party didn’t fall under the “neutral” category.
He mentally added them to his To Be Destroyed list and turned his attention to the guards.
Two men defended a door tucked behind the bar. Another pair stood before a darkened hallway, while a set were posted at the bottom and top of the stairs. They appeared unarmed, but Gabriel wasn’t convinced. Shifter territory was neutral, but Boras wasn’t known to follow vampire law, which explained his Outcast status. He’d once been an aristocrat of the Validus Clan, but had been banished centuries ago.
The clicking of stiletto heels drew Gabriel’s attention back to the barred hallway.
“Good evening.” A platinum blonde woman, with dramatic make-up, called out as she approached the new comers. “I’m X-Tina and I’ll be your hostess for the evening.” She tapped the screen of the iPad she carried then asked, “May I see your invitation?”
Gabriel handed it over. The hostess pricked her finger with the tip of one fang. Two droplets of blood hit the white card before her wound healed. She studied the hidden contents for a moment then smiled. “Your name, sir?”
“Shadow.”
She gave Gabriel a wink and typed his name on the registry. “Very good, sir, and welcome. We are glad you accepted our invitation, Mr. Shadow.”
Gabriel took the key card she offered and handed it to Gannon after she explained it would grant access to their private suite.
“May I interest you gentlemen in a drink before the event? It will begin promptly at ten.”
“Thank you, but no. My attendant would like to get settled and I’m interested in touring the viewing room,” Gabriel evenly replied.
“Certainty.” She turned toward Gannon and pointed to the stairs. “Your suite is located on the second floor. Go up, turn right, and your room will be the third on the left.” Returning her attention to Gabriel, she added, “Mr. Shadow, please, follow me.”
Gabriel glanced toward Gannon, giving him a silent command to start inventory: exits, guards, weapons, then turned and followed X-Tina passed the bar to the door at the back of the kitchen.
She waved the guards aside and pushed open the door, revealing the holding room. The scent of fear and anguish was palpable. He could taste the slave’s hopelessness as he stepped through the threshold and was greeted by harsh fluorescent lights, which brightened the room to a painful degree.
White walls. White floors. Everything appeared so…sterile. Glass separated each cell, every mortal placed in their own display case. Men and women cowered in corners, using their crisp white robes to cover their nakedness. Some humans rushed forward and beat on the glass with bruised fists. A few shouted enraged curses, others begged for freedom and mercy.
Sadistic vampires in attendance would be drawn to defiant mortals—to break them—while the seriously depraved would prey on the weak—taking pleasure from their torment. The only freedom or mercy they could ever hope to receive was a sudden death. Painless. Quick. He doubted any would be so lucky.
Clasping his hands behind his back, Gabriel kept his gaze level, quickly glancing from cell to cell. Not trusting himself, he avoided eye contact with the mortals. He could feel his grip on his demon slipping with every step. The aisle grew shorter with no sign of Jordan. He tried to pick up her unique scent, but the repulsive odor of the human’s mixed emotions clouded the air.
“See any you like?” the hostess asked. “Our collection is extensive.” She paused in front of a male. He shouted curses at her and struck the glass. X-Tina smiled and playfully pressed her lips against the barrier, leaving behind a glittering red lipstick smudge.
Gabriel’s jaw clenched. Ruthlessly resisting the urge to rip the hostess’s head from her shoulders. Madame Sideth had teased him in a similar fashion. She’d blew kisses at him and cooed to him as if he were an adorable puppy in a pet shop window. And when she took her sexual pleasure from him, she’d whisper endearments to him. Sweet. Revolting.
Shaking away the skin crawling, degrading memories, he continued down the aisle.
“Are you searching for something in particular?” X-Tina asked.
He answered with a nonchalant shrug despite the ice that snaked through his veins. Only six cells remained. Were they keeping her somewhere else? At the boathouse, she’d been held separate from the other slaves.
Anxiety crept through his chest as he recalled watching Jordan’s struggle with the guards the night before. She was valuable, but troublesome slaves weren’t tolerated. If they’d beaten her she wouldn’t be auction ready.
Gabriel felt his demon struggle against its chains as their shared disquiet mounted. Unsettling questions skated through his mind. What if Jordan wasn’t here? Had Boras arranged a private sale? Or had he decided to keep Jordan for himself? Gabriel passed a woman with red hair. She stood in the corner, her arms wrapped around her middle, her eyes downcast. Was she the woman mentioned in the invitation? She was attractive, but not an exotic beauty and her light brown eyes weren’t striking. No, she wasn’t the featured prize. So where the hell was Jordan?
The hostess twirled in front of him, halting his steps. “Male or female?” Smiling, she reached out to place a hand on his chest. Gabriel pinned her with a cutting glare. She snapped her hand back. He enjoyed her momentary spike of terror.
“Female,” he responded.
His bored tone caused her to frown, but she maintained her carefree manner and continued, “Blonde, brunette, redhead. Tall, short. Thin or thick. We don’t discriminate and can offer any woman you like. If none here interest you, you can place an order and we’ll send you an email notification when we’ve found a mortal that fits your needs.”
Gabriel’s fingers locked into fists at his sides. The hostess didn’t realize how close to death she was. If killing her wouldn’t blow the mission and start a fresh war with the shifters, he’d remove her black heart with his bare hands.
X-Tina tossed him a teasing glance over her shoulder and said, “You strike me as the kind of man accustomed to the best...of everything.” She giggled when he gave a stiff nod. “Allow me to show you the best.”
Remaining silent, Gabriel followed her around the corner of the last cell.
“I sense you’re a serious buyer,” she purred as they approached a thick, red curtain. “This room is reserved for V.I.P.s only.” The hostess brushed the material aside and invited him in with a wink.
Jasmine.
Gabriel’s lungs froze. His rib cage turned to stone. The scent was faint, but unmistakable. It sweetly beckoned him, drawing him deep into the gently lit room. Ten glass cells, as stark white as the others, circled a pair of black velvet settees and a metal coffee table topped with multiple vials of blood.
Samples. Ten samples to be exact.
Jordan was being kept in the Tasting Den. A snarl built in his throat. His vision sharped, consumed by demonic black. His fangs lengthened behind the bandana. How many had tried her blood?
Kill them all, the vampire demanded.
I will.
X-Tina shifted nervously beside him, feeling the malice he radiated. “Mr. Shadow?”
Sensing danger, the humans scurried to their corners. Their eyes wide, five men and four women watched him wearily. Despite their terror colored expressions, all were exceptionally beautiful, but there was one who captured his attention—the only mortal who didn’t watch him as if he were a starved lion and they were injured gazelles.
The female lay on her side, the too large white robe billowed around her petite frame. Her long, silken, deep burgundy hair fell across her brow. The strands concealed the fine features of her face, but Gabriel knew it was her. Jordan.
He’d found her.
Instinct propelled him forward.
At last.
A maelstrom of emotions swept through his chest, nearly knocking him to his knees. Relief, joy, guilt, hate, and fury battled within him until Gabriel could no longer discern one from the other. The distortion of emotion an anomaly that made his heart ache. He welcomed the unfamiliar pain.
Noting his interest in the female slave, X-Tina spun and waved her fingers toward Jordan’s cell. Striking a game show model’s pose, she exclaimed, “Isn’t she a gem? Truly, one of the most exotic I’ve seen in my hundred and twenty years in the business.”
Ignoring the hostess’s prattle, Gabriel used his senses to gauge Jordan’s health. Her breaths were shallow and her pulse… disturbingly slow.
His eyes narrowed, studying her slim figure hidden by the robe. Her hipbone jutted out, her shoulders were hard angles. She’d lost weight. Bruises speckled her arms and undoubtedly marred the rest of her tender flesh. Tiny cuts graced her knuckles.
Little scrapper, he thought, holding back a grin.
He wished he could see her face. That she would wake so he could drown in her deep violet eyes. He yearned to brush her luxurious hair aside, to feel it slip through his fingers as he memorized the graceful arch of her brows, the peaks of her cheekbones and the round stubbornness of her chin.
Only a fragile piece of glass separated him from the woman he craved.
So close.
Gabriel sucked in one measured breath. Then another and another as he battled to maintain control. His body taunt as a bow string, he precariously balanced on the edge, a whisper away from crashing into chaos. From shattering the partition. From taking Jordan in his arms. From slaughtering every disgusting vampire here, flooding the picture perfect farm house with blood.
Focus, damn it. He shook his head, breaking the murderous trance. Stick to the plan. Endgame: rescue the woman and replace her memories then be done with her. Return to a drama free, emotionless existence and destroy my enemies.
Calm, Gabriel kept his voice bland, “When will this one be placed on the block?”
“Number Fifteen will go last tonight.”
He arched a brow. “And the others?” he asked, gesturing to the surrounding cells.
X-Tina shook her head. “They will be included in upcoming auctions, but we like to give our V.I.P.s a preview. Number Fifteen is gorgeous and extremely talented. Her singing voice is divine and her dancing is purely sensual.”
Her voice is heaven and her dancing is hypnotic, he wanted to correct, instead he drawled, “Artistic abilities, though appreciated, are of little importance.”
X-Tina’s expression softened as if she discovered a secret. “If traditional entertainment doesn’t interest you, then perhaps this will.” She dropped her voice to a sultry whisper. “This exotic beauty is untried.”
Gabriel bit back a violent curse. A virgin. His stomach knotted. The things they’d do to her...The torture. The humiliation. His throat constricted painfully as he tried to swallow.
“Imagine taking her.”
Against his will his body responded, hardening. He didn’t give a shit if she were untouched, he’d desired her. He’d fantasized wrapping her hair around his fist, her long legs locked around his hips as he pounded within her. She’d cry out his name as she came. Dear lord, he’d envisioned claiming her again and again, in every position he could think of. But he didn’t want to want her. Hell, he’d forsaken sleep to escape his dreams of Jordan on her knees, gazing up at him, her eyes bright with need. Her plump lips wrapped around his—Gabriel’s fangs sharpened in his mouth, slicing his tongue. The tang of blood and sudden pain was a needed shock to his system.
Focus.
X-Tina’s eyes darkened as she ran her gaze over his body. “A male like you must have women committing murder to be in your bed.”
Gabriel conceded with a single nod. Countless vampire beauties competed for his attentions, but none ever died. He preferred to take multiple women to his bed and loathed the idea of such senseless bloodshed. He satisfied them all, leaving them begging for more, but one night is all he shared. He refused to screw the same woman twice. No attachments. Always complete control. After the Madame, he’d never allow a woman to have power of him.
She ran her tongue over her top lip. “And instinct tells me your brand of fucking is too intense for a mortal.”
Again, he remained silent. He hadn’t lain with a human since his days as a mortal.
“Do you seek a pleasure slave? One you can share?” The scent of her lust thickened the air. “This one,” she pointed to Jordan, “will serve well. She is spirited and her taste…” her words died on a moan. She flashed him a mischievous smile and danced away, coming to a stop beside the metal table. “Would you like to sample her sweet, sweet blood?” she asked.
Gabriel stood unyielding, his wide shoulders squared. His fists tightened at his sides as he once again reminded himself, I can’t rip her throat out. Not yet.
“No. Thank you,” he grated. If he ever tasted Jordan’s blood—huge fucking if—the mortal would have to freely offer her vein to him.
X-Tina pouted and replaced the vial. “Number Fifteen is our featured prize for the evening. Many have expressed interest in her. If she is to your liking, I suggest you bid aggressively.”
Every twisted fucker in attendance would bid on the exotic, talented, virgin beauty. Driving up the price, nothing short of a king’s ransom. He’d expected to pay top dollar for the mortal, but he hadn’t anticipated bank rolling Boras’s army.
Gabriel’s lips peeled back from his fangs. Buying Jordan’s freedom meant paying for his enemy’s mercenaries and weapons. Shit.
Returning his gaze to Jordan, the roiling darkness within him instantly calmed. He was grudgingly thankful of his disguises. The bandana hid his snarl, the fedora shaded the murderous glint.
Stay true to his nonchalant air, Gabriel flicked his gaze around the room, scanning the surrounding cells. “This one doesn’t seem as fresh as the others.”
The hostess shrugged. “Number Fifteen has been with us for a few months,” she answered.
“I find it difficult to believe Boras would hold on to such a prize for so long without good reason.”
“Innocent gems like Number Fifteen are exceedingly rare.” A glimmer of dark pleasure crossed X-Tina’s features then vanished. “She’s appeared at previous auctions, but her reserve has yet to be met.”
Gabriel nodded and glanced back to Jordan, pretending to accept the hostess’s explanation, but he’d seen the revealing spark of bloodlust in her eyes. He knew all the tricks of the trade. X-Tina and the guards planned to kill whoever won Jordan. The hostess had accidentally betrayed her game and Gabriel would capitalize on her slip.
“Is she defective?”
The hostess vehemently shook her head. “No. Nothing of the sort.”
He gave a disbelieving scoff and waved a hand toward Jordan’s cell. X-Tina’s eyes widened as she deduced his meaning. He suspected they’d drugged Jordan to make her more manageable, but he required confirmation. They could have doped her because of an injury or illness and wanted to make her ailments less noticeable.
“As I mentioned before, she’s spirited.” The hostess feigned a sad sigh. “She sleeps now because we’ve been forced to sedate her. She’s a fighter and we wouldn’t want her harming herself.”
“Understandable,” he conceded, “But you claim she is a gifted singer and dancer. That she is defiant. Yet, she is obviously heavily medicated, making it difficult to judge her worth.” Swinging his attention back to the hostess he challenged, “Am I to take you by your word?”
“Mr. Shadow, allow me to assure you that we never falsely advertise. We pride ourselves on our product.” She straightened her shoulders. “A video of her performance will be played for our guest’s.”
“Good. I look forward to it.”
“Excellent,” she exclaimed. “You will not be disappointed.”
Casting Jordan one last glance, Gabriel turned and clasped his hands behind his back. “Thank you for your time.”
“My pleasure,” the hostess purred. “I will escort you to your suite.”
Brushing past her, he said, “That isn’t necessary.” The violent tension within him built as the distance between him and Jordan grew. As he exited the Tasting Den, Gabriel whispered a vow to his mortal, “We will meet again in the purchasing room.”