Page 186 of Red Rooster

The mass of chains, cuffs, and collar hit the stone floor with a sound that seemed bigger than it ought to be. Val blinked at his bloodied wrists a moment, chest hitching as he breathed.

“Can you stand?” Rooster asked.

“Yes, just…Here. Drag him to me.” He gestured limply to one of the unconscious guards.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Rooster was already in deep as it was. And fuck these guys, seriously. Fumbling a little, he managed to move one of the guards close to Val. Close enough for Val to grab the man’s arm and drag him, with much difficulty and cursing, up into his lap. He turned his head with a shaking hand, so the guard’s throat was exposed; Rooster could see the pulse beating just beneath the skin.

“What are you doing?”

Val ran his tongue across his lip, staring down at the man’s neck. He took a few deep breaths, and muttered something in a language Rooster didn’t understand. It sounded reverent, like a prayer.

“We don’t have time–” Rooster started.

And Val ducked his head and bit the man’s throat.

~*~

Fulk dreamed of vampires. Strange ones, three of them – one in particular who smelled faintly of Sasha.

Then he snapped awake and realized hecouldsmell vamps. Barely. It was more a tingling down the back of his neck. He growled, an automatic reaction, and Annabel stiffened as she came awake against his chest.

“What?”

There had been a dozen things he was probably supposed to do – the least of which was make sure Sasha and the girl hadn’t killed one another. But between the lulling warmth of the bath, and the sticky heat of Annabel’s skin pressed against his, he’d pushed responsibility aside and let the moment turn into the kind of slow, melting sex that left him breathless, panting endearments against her throat. After, they’d pulled down the sheets on the bed and stretched out on the cool silk, limbs intertwined. Fulk hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but he obviously had.

He sat up, now, fuzzy-headed, still very much naked. “Vamps. Close.”

Anna bolted upright, cursing like a sailor…or like the Southern farm rat she’d been when he met her. “Motherfuck…shit, shit, shit. Where are my fucking…” She scrambled off the bed, snatching for the clothes they’d left scattered.

Fulk got to his feet, but didn’t reach for his clothes. He went to his wife, and caught her by the shoulders.

She froze, head tipping back. “What?”

“Stay here for me. Please.”

She heaved a ragged breath. “Say something like that one more time, you chivalrous asshole. I dare you.”

“Anna.”

She growled, and snapped her teeth together. But when he’d dressed and was leaving the room, she stood with her arms wrapped around herself, glaring at him.

“Be careful.”

“Always.”

~*~

The plan was simple, and also terrifying.

“They have Sasha. I don’t care how many of them I have to cut down,” Nikita had said back at the cabin. “If you can’t handle that, then you don’t need to come.” He’d been dispassionate, ice-cold.

Trina had insisted she could do this, and so she would.

Through the scope of the rifle, she watched the team of black-clad guards milling around on the manor’s front steps. Watched a shadow detach itself from beneath a window, and melt up the side stairs. Watched an echo on the other side do the same. Lanny and Alexei, the distraction. Pandemonium as the guards noticed them, and split their attention to both sides to intercept them.