Page 86 of Inked & Bloodbound

Julian. Of course. This was never just about the twins’ sick games. This was about so much more.

I pocket the phone and stride toward the exit, stepping over the moaning vampire in the doorway.

I’m coming, Lily. This time, I won’t leave you behind.

28

LILY

As prisons go, this one isn’t so bad.

When the twins took me down to that dark little torture chamber in the bowels of Nocturne, I thought I was dead for sure. The memories are fragmented, but I remember the smell of bleach meeting blood and how one of them tried to strap my uncooperative body onto a giant wooden board.

After that, it’s scarily blank. The dark space where my thoughts used to be replaced by tiny flashes of things. Pictures that feel half-formed and disconnected from reality.

I drifted in and out of consciousness to the sound of threats and laughter as Roel and Ronan took turns taunting me. I couldn’t fight back, no matter how hard I tried. My blood still teemed with a high dose of ketamine or whatever they’d used to incapacitate me. Something strong enough to cause the kind of dissociation that separated my mind from my body and rendered my limbs useless.

Every ounce of mental strength I had went toward calling out to Cass in that hallway, but he didn’t come. The hopeful part of me still thinks it’s because he couldn’t hear my pleas, but deep down I know the truth.

He did hear me.

He heard me perfectly fine. He even looked me dead in the eye as he turned his back on me and left—without me.

Once again, I’ve stepped into his domain with nothing but good intentions, and once again I walk away bruised and hurting. I don’t know why I’m surprised—it seems like this is just the way things go with him.

Except this time, he broke his promise.

I turn over on the bed and brush a tear from my cheek. The four-poster bed creaks beneath me, and I shiver. Despite the chill in the room, I’ve stubbornly decided against getting under the covers, even though these are the softest sheets I’ve ever felt against my skin and the mountain of luxurious feather pillows propped around me is calling my name.

If it weren’t for the fact that the door is locked from the outside and the distinct lack of windows, I’d think I was in an upscale boutique hotel room. The huge private bathroom, lavish light fixtures, and soft furnishings are a nice touch, but they don’t fool me. I feel like bait sitting in a very elaborate trap, patiently waiting for my captor to make a move.

It could be worse. I could still be at Nocturne, strapped into a torture device, anxiously waiting for two men to use my body to fulfill some sick fantasy. But by some small mercy I’m not, and I have a mysterious stranger to thank for my rescue.

All I remember clearly is the teardrop tattoo under his eye. Young, Latino, in a perfectly tailored suit—he walked into that room like he owned it. He pulled the twins aside and whispered something I couldn’t make out, but whatever he said changed everything. Their cruel grins vanished, replaced by something that looked alien on their faces: fear.

When I woke up again, I was here.

There’s a good chance that I’ve traded one torture chamber for another. One set of captors for someone far more dangerous, but if I have to choose, I’ll take the kind of monster all the others fear.

The sound of a key turning in the ancient lock stops my heart for a second. I look around for something to use as a weapon, but quicklydecide it’s pointless. These people aren’t people. They’re vampires, and they’re hardly going to leave a bunch of useful weapons out for the woman they’re keeping captive.

“The Primus wants to see you,” a voice says, and when I turn toward it, I recognize the man standing in the doorway. The man with the teardrop tattoo.

“The what now?”

“The boss,” he says, adjusting the leather holster around his shoulders. At first I think it’s concealing a gun, but on closer inspection it appears to contain a row of thin pointed wood and some kind of dagger. I just hope he’s not planning on using any of them on me.

“Well, what if I don’t want to see him?” I ask, my voice wobbling and making me sound less tough than I’d hoped.

“It’s not a request.”

“Fine,” I say, dangling my legs off the bed and tentatively checking that my balance has returned.

I’m a little unsteady, but as I reach out to grasp the strong wooden post of the bed, the man appears at my side and bolsters me. Hooking my arm through his and holding me steady. It’s an unexpectedly tender gesture, and I’m strangely grateful.

“Thanks…um…wait…what should I call you?” I ask.

“Angel,” he says, leading me to the door. “And you might want to close your eyes for some of this.” He must see the panic on my face because he quickly adds, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep hold of you and tell you when to shut them.”