Page 33 of Red Fury (The Dragon Tributes #8)

S hadow

The males drag me to my feet and start to pull me toward the door.

“Leave her a moment,” Roman instructs them, and they let me go.

Pain shoots through my ankle as I try to put weight on it, and I immediately stumble, grabbing at a dressing table to stay upright. The twisted joint throbs with each heartbeat, already starting to swell beneath the strappy heel of my black shoe.

“Shit,” I hiss.

Fury lies motionless on the floor where he fell, sprawled in an unnatural heap. Several tranquilizer darts still protrude from his arms and chest, and for a terrifying moment, I think he’s dead. Then I see the slight rise and fall of his chest, and relief floods through me.

“Get him up,” Roman commands.

It takes three of his men to lift Fury’s unconscious form. Even drugged and powerless, he’s still an imposing sight. He’s all muscle and masculine strength that makes the guards strain under his weight.

“Careful with that one,” Kozlov adds, watching as they hoist Fury between them. “I’ll wager he’s worth a hefty sum.”

I want to launch myself at him, to claw his eyes right out of his skull, but my twisted ankle and the lingering effects of whatever they’ve drugged me with keep me rooted in place.

Roman turns his attention back to me, a feral smile spreading across his face.

“I’ve decided to give you both a gift,” he says, moving closer.

“One more night together. I’ll start marketing in the morning.

I suspect that we’ll have enough interest to auction you off before sundown tomorrow.

It’ll be a feeding frenzy…excuse the pun. ” He winks at me.

“Let us go. Our people know where we are. They’ll be coming for us,” I lie through my teeth. I know no such thing. I only hope that Fury told someone he was here.

“Great! More dragon shifters to auction off. I’ll be reaching out to covens on an international level,” he goes on, almost talking to himself as he rubs his hands together.

“The founding families in Europe and Asia. Dragon shifters…” He shakes his head in wonder.

“I really didn’t think you were even permitted to leave your islands. ”

“How do you know about us?”

“I make it my business to know about things that matter. Right now, getting this auction all set up is what matters. The vampire community is going to go absolutely insane when word gets out. I haven’t been this excited about a sale in decades.”

He reaches out, running one finger along my jawline with disgusting gentleness. “Although I have to admit, I’m tempted to keep you for myself, zayka .”

I have no idea what the word means, only that I don’t like it.

The casual way he touches me makes rage explode through my chest, and I slap his hand away from my face.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” I snarl.

The change in his expression is instantaneous and terrifying. The amusement vanishes, replaced by something cold and vicious. His eyes darken, taking on that red tinge, and his lips pull back to reveal those deadly fangs.

He’s revolting.

Before I can react, his hand shoots out, gripping my throat and yanking me against his body. I have a split second to see his face, both beautiful and terrible and inhuman. Before I can react, he sinks his fangs into my neck.

The pain is immediate and excruciating. It feels like liquid fire spreading through my veins, burning everything in its path. I scream, the sound echoing off the walls as I beat my fists against his arms and shoulders.

It’s like hitting solid rock. He doesn’t even flinch.

I try to reach for my dragon, desperate for her strength, her fire, anything that might help me fight him off. But she’s still so distant it’s infuriating.

I hate this.

I hate him.

The pain intensifies as he feeds in heavy gulps.

With a hard groan, he releases me, and I stumble backward, my legs giving out, but strong arms catch me before I hit the floor. One of the guards steadies me as I press my hand to my neck, feeling the wet warmth of blood seeping between my fingers.

Roman wipes a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth, licking it off his finger, his eyes practically glowing.

“Exquisite,” he murmurs, flexing his arms and rolling his shoulders like he’s testing newfound strength.

“Absolutely exquisite. The blood of a shifter is far superior to the blood of a human, and it would seem that the blood of a dragon far outdoes the blood of a wolf. I’m so glad I sampled the goods.

” He licks the corners of his mouth. “It was so good that I struggled to stop. I wanted…to drain you. So fucking good. I feel incredible.” He looks down at his muscles.

“It’s like liquid energy running through my veins. It’s quite addictive.”

He studies me with renewed interest, tilting his head like he’s reconsidering his earlier decision. “Perhaps I should keep you, after all. Keep you for my drinking pleasure.”

The guard supporting me moves, changing his hold on me. I’m pretty sure he sniffs at me.

“I’ll have to give it some serious thought, little pet.”

“I’m not your pet,” I say under my breath, keeping my eyes on his.

Bastard!

He smiles. “We’ll see about that. I have some serious thinking to do.”

“Go to hell!” I snarl.

He walks over to me and takes off the earrings, pocketing them. “Take them away,” Roman orders with a dismissive wave. “Put them in the lockup space in the basement. Enjoy your time with your boyfriend while you still can.” He winks at me again.

The guard puts his arm around me and helps me walk. I wince each time I put weight on my ankle.

“No one touches them,” Roman warns. “Or drinks from them,” he growls at the guards.

A shiver runs up my spine.

“Of course not, Sire,” the guard says, inclining his head.

Sire.

Is that another one of his nicknames?

Maybe I just heard wrong. He must have said “sir.”

“I will kill anyone who takes from what is mine,” Kozlov adds.

“Understood, Sire. I will see to it myself.”

He definitely said “sire,” which is just plain weird. Maybe it’s Russian. I can’t think of anything else.

The guard helps me all the way to the elevator, where the ride down feels endless. No one says anything as we descend. Fury remains unconscious. His eyes are closed, and his chest rises and falls in a rhythmical fashion.

The basement is nothing like the penthouse above. The walls are concrete, the lighting harsh and industrial. We’re led to a small room with no windows, just bare walls and a thin mattress on the floor with a couple of blankets.

They deposit Fury on the mattress with little ceremony, and I limp over to kneel beside him. The tranquilizer darts are still embedded in his skin; there are small trickles of blood where the needles penetrated.

One of the guards returns almost immediately with sandwiches and several bottles of water. He sets them on the floor near the door.

“I’ll be back to check on you later,” he says.

“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t try anything stupid.

You don’t want to get on Kozlov’s bad side.

Also, your blood smells really good. We don’t want there to be an accident.

Someone might accidentally drain you dry.

” He sniffs and then closes the door. The lock is turned.

Then there is a heavy slide of metal against metal as the bolt slides into place.

We’re locked in, alright.

Fury starts to stir just as the guard’s footsteps fade away. His eyelids flutter, and he makes a low groaning sound.

“Fury?” I whisper, leaning over him. “Can you hear me?”

His eyes open slowly, unfocused and glassy. He tries to sit up but immediately falls back with a pained grunt.

“Easy,” I tell him, placing a gentle hand on his chest. “Don’t try to move too fast.”

I carefully pull the darts from his skin, trying to be as gentle as possible. He winces with each one but doesn’t complain. When I’m finished, I toss the darts into the corner.

“How do you feel?” I ask, cupping his chin.

His eyes open. They are hazy for a few moments before focusing on me.

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck,” he mutters, his voice hoarse and strained. “Dizzy and my mouth tastes funny. What the fuck did they give us?”

He sits up, flinching and putting his thumbs into his temples for a moment. “I feel like hell. Weak, too.”

“I don’t know exactly what it is,” I explain. “All I know is that it’s a drug that suppresses our dragons somehow, making us weak. Even our healing ability is compromised.”

I show him my ankle, which has turned an alarming shade of purple-blue. Under normal circumstances, a twisted ankle would heal quickly. The fact that it’s getting worse instead of better is unsettling.

Fury takes several more minutes to fully come around, blinking away the lingering effects of the tranquilizer. When his gaze finally focuses and he sees the puncture wounds on my neck, his expression turns murderous.

“That bastard bit you,” he growls, reaching out to gently touch the tender skin. His fingers come away bloody, and I see his jaw clench. “They’re not human.”

“Nope, they’re vampires,” I say.

“I thought that might be it. So Roman Kozlov, known arms dealer, mob boss, owner of a business empire, is also a vampire. It’s almost too insane to believe.” He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut, pain marring his handsome features for a few seconds.

“That’s about right, although I didn’t know about the mob boss part, but it makes sense he would be mafia…I guess.”

Fury stares at me for a long moment. “Vampires are real. Fuck me!” he whispers.

“It appears so. It sounds like there are a lot of them. They live all around the world.” I lean back against the wall, suddenly exhausted. “According to Roman, wolf shifters are real, too, and they live on the Mainland.”

“He said that?”

I nod. “Remember when Harrison talked about multiple biological threats in the elevator before we had that blackout? Maybe he wasn’t just referring to our two islands.”