Page 19 of Sergi (Of Blood & Dreams #7)

Chapter Eighteen

I stared at an irregular brown stain on the wall. It had faded over time, and the guards hadn’t bothered to paint over it, probably tired of buying white paint. I’d been staring at it for hours. I called upon my wolf, but only enough to ignite the red glow.

Shifters had excellent eyesight in the dark, but it could be heightened through our wolf. I couldn’t hold the wolf in that state for long—close to awakening but not enough to shift. Tonight, my rage lay too close to the surface, and it was a struggle to keep her at bay.

She wanted to come out. She wanted to hunt. She wanted to taste blood.

So, I focused on the stain. There were several like it on the walls of my cell, but this one was at eye level when I sat on the bed, my back to the wall. During long days when I had no work assignment, I’d study it like a Rorschach test, counting how many different objects I could create from the image.

Not tonight. Though my gaze was locked on the shape, I saw it for what it was. Blood. Shifter blood.

When I walked into the main lab that first time to find it painted red with shifter blood, flesh, and bone, I didn’t think anything could be worse. I said it again when I witnessed the experiment firsthand, watched as drugs were injected into them that resulted in their implosion, and then forced to clean it up. I still had no idea what they could have given them to make that happen.

But today was worse.

A shifter had been forced into a partial change and locked there. Incapable of speech, and unable to give his wolf any rest. It was a painful position to be in. Not just physically but mentally. We might be able to retain our thoughts and awareness during a shift, but it was co-mingled with the wolf.

Hard to explain to someone who’d never gone through it, but what they’d forced on that shifter was worse than death. I’d been grateful when he received the second shot of who knew what. To see the fear and pain in his eyes dulled as his body relaxed. He was no longer aware, and, in this situation, it was the best outcome any shifter could hope for.

Was there an antidote?

I snorted into the darkness.

Why would they want to save a shifter? They wouldn’t want to waste the time and resources to create an antidote. A shifter wasn’t worth it.

I dropped my gaze to my hand and opened my fist. The vial labeled BP-X lay in my hand. Would Sergi drink it? There were still fourteen vials of human blood under my mattress.

I closed my fist and strode to the corner where I kept my spare shift and underwear.

We were running out of time.

But I had a plan. It was a horrible plan.

Yet, this was the best time. The staff were ecstatic with the results of the last experiment. They would be distracted. They wouldn’t see it coming.

I began ripping my shift into long strips.

Tomorrow would be my salvation or my death.

Tomorrow the wolf comes out.

Sergi woke from a strange and difficult dream. If he’d thought reliving his mother’s and sisters’ deaths had been gut-wrenching, this one had reopened a gash in his heart he didn’t think could ever be repaired.

He hadn’t thought of Ines in decades. He’d been close to death on many occasions and had never experienced such realistic dreams. Even though they’d begun soon after his torture had started, they’d become more palpable after the first dose of Magic Poppy.

The beast was growing stronger, and maybe it had forced the memories he thought he’d locked away, far from his reach. Whatever the reason, the sight of Ines, standing in the light of the rising sun, was as clear as if he were standing in the room next to her.

She arranged the colorful silks around her shoulders. Her hair, black as onyx, hung in soft curls, the tips skimming along the small of her back. A soft breeze blew in from the desert, rustling the tips of the silk scarf she pulled over her head.

When she turned toward him, his heart thumped loudly at the thought of running his hands over her skin, soft as satin and warm as the desert sand. He felt the touch of her fingers as they played across his shoulders then reached below his tunic to stir his manhood. He remembered the previous evening when they’d tumbled into bed, her legs wrapped around his hips. She’d urged him on with words of love and screams of pleasure as she trembled from her release.

They were to leave in two days before House El Farah’s army reached the city battlements. He would take her back to House Trelane where she would be safe. After their lovemaking the night before, she’d spoken of a spring wedding, and they’d laughed as they discussed names for their children.

His heart had been full.

“You should stay here where it’s safe.” He didn’t feel comfortable letting her go alone when battle drew near. “Can’t Carmen go to the market for you?”

She slipped on her sandals then brushed her fingers under his chin as she strolled by. “Carmen has other duties this morning. Besides, there’s a new vendor with exotic oils from the Far East.” She stepped up to him and ran her hands over his shoulders, tracing a finger over his tattoos as one hand slipped down his leg.

He caught it and brought it to his lips. “If you give me a few minutes, I can go with you.”

“No.” Her tone was harsh, and then she smiled. “I want to buy you a surprise. It won’t be a surprise if you’re with me.”

“Then let me send one of the men with you. El Farah’s men could have reached the city by now.”

She laughed, her voice melodic, and it sent a shiver over him. “You worry too much. It will take another few days before they even think of coming here.” She stepped back and tied a pouch around her waist before pulling a sheer caftan over her shoulders. “I’ll only be an hour, maybe a bit more.”

She strolled to him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she tilted her head back. Her half-lidded eyes were sultry, and she slowly licked her bottom lip. He crushed her tighter, his lips brushing hers as he ran a tongue over that same lip before pushing past it to taste the sweetness within. She purred as she tugged him closer, her hand running through his hair.

The kiss didn’t last long enough.

She pulled back and pinched his chin. “Go back to bed and wait for me.” Her grin was infectious. “You’ll never guess my surprise.”

He was still smiling as she sailed out of the room, her caftan flowing behind her.

With thoughts of the previous evening still on his mind, he did as she asked and stripped off his tunic. She’d left a cup of his favorite Moroccan coffee, and he took the cup to bed and enjoyed the exotic scents drifting in through the window as he savored the brew.

It wasn’t long after he set the cup aside and nestled under the silk sheets that his lids grew heavy. A smile was on his lips as thoughts of Ines’ return and their impending joining lulled him to sleep.

The loud bang of the outer door being thrown open pulled him from sleep. He jumped up but teetered as the floor swayed beneath him. For a second, he couldn’t remember where he was until he caught Ines’s spicy scent. He took a step but stumbled, his legs refusing to follow his command.

He fell against the wall as the room erupted with men in armor. His wits came back to him, but his legs moved as if he were wading in a pool of honey. He turned to where he always laid his sword, but it wasn’t there.

It wouldn’t have mattered.

Six armored vampires surrounded him. Someone kicked his legs out from behind, and he dropped to his knees. Unable to lift his lethargic arm in time, another male slammed a fist into the side of his head, and he toppled over. He was dragged from the room and down the wide staircase before being tossed onto the stone floor of the foyer.

His head pounded. Not just from the slam to it, but from something more insidious. He’d been drugged. His only sustenance that morning had been the coffee Ines made for him.

He refused to believe she would have betrayed him. Could Carmen be involved?

“Finally.” A gruff voice pierced the dull ache in his head. “Sergi. Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?”

Sergi wasn’t able to push himself up, but he managed to open an eye. Worn leather boots stood inches from his face. He recognized the voice.

Yousef El Farah. How had he found him so quickly?

The vampire squatted down and shoved Sergi until he rolled to his side. He opened his eyes to glare up at El Farah. “Such a sad affair to find House Trelane’s Captain of the Guard unprepared. You grow lax between the legs of a woman.” El Farah chuckled. “Let’s see what the crows make of you.” He gripped Sergi’s hair and yanked his head back. “But before I hang you from the walls of my castle, we shall spend a little quality time together. We have much to discuss.”

He stood and kicked Sergi in the stomach. The next one would have broken his jaw if he hadn’t turned his head at the last minute. But the kick was enough to descend him into darkness.

He’d woken, chained to a wall, and endured two days of torture before the castle was stormed. Two of his guards had found him. His only thoughts during his captivity were of Ines and whether she’d gotten away.

When he stumbled out of the dungeon of the castle and into the harsh sunlit courtyard, he found satisfaction in seeing El Farah on his knees along with his cadre. Devon paced in front of them, a bloody sword at his side.

Devon turned when he heard Sergi approach, his guards directly behind him in case he stumbled, but he refused to show weakness. When the two met, Devon laid a hand on his shoulder and gave him a long, appraising look.

“Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine.” Sergi’s throat was raw, the words thick on his lips.

“I thought you might want to do the honor.” Devon held out his sword.

He mustered the strength to take the sword and swung it once, chest level, to test its heft. He would need both arms to lift it any higher.

El Farah glared at him, hatred shining in his eyes, his head held high. He had to give the vampire credit. He wasn’t a weak man. Just not a smart one.

“I guess you won’t be seeing the crows peck out my eyes after all.” Sergi wanted to lean against the sword, but he held it loosely in his right hand.

“If not me, then someone else. And if you continue to fight for House Trelane, I’m sure it will be soon.”

“Any last words?”

El Farah spit at his feet. Fair enough. Sergi lifted the sword with both hands, but before he had time to swing it, a scream shattered the silence.

He glanced up and dropped the sword to his side when he saw Ines being held back by two guards. Her hands were bound in front of her. He expected to see gratefulness at finding him alive, but instead, her eyes flashed with hatred.

He took a step back. “Ines?”

“You filthy pig. Leave Yousef alone. Just leave us and go back to your home.”

Her words stung.

El Farah laughed. “At least I have the privilege of seeing this moment.” He gave Sergi a pitiful look. “Didn’t she tell you?” Sergi wanted to knock the smirk off his face. “Ines and I have been betrothed since childhood. I wasn’t originally in favor of her seducing you, but then, the quarry was too difficult to pass up.” He shook his head. “Though, to be honest, I’d expected more information than she was able to gather while opening her legs to you.” His laugh grew louder as Ines continued to yell obscenities at Sergi.

Memories of that morning, bits and pieces he’d refused to contemplate, could no longer be ignored. Carmen had nothing to do with it. He’d drunk the coffee Ines had made. Her desire to shop without him, wanting him to wait for her in bed. The feeling of being drugged.

Anger burned deep, not only from her betrayal but by what a fool he’d been.

Without warning, and with all his rage spurring him, he lifted the sword with one strong arm, spun around, and sliced through El Farah’s throat, some sick satisfaction releasing a knot in his chest as the male’s head toppled from his shoulders.

Ines’s screams rebounded in his head.

Sergi dropped the sword and walked out of the courtyard. He’d walked for miles, and it was several hours before Devon tracked him down.

He’d stopped by a river and had fallen to his knees on the soft grass. Some time passed before he heard the soft tread of footsteps. He knew it was Devon without looking.

Devon stopped behind him, not bothering to sit or kneel. “She’s the one who’s been leaking information about our army’s location.” His hand rested on Sergi’s shoulder, and though he tensed, he didn’t move away.

“I was a fool.”

“Then I was as well.” When Sergi didn’t respond, Devon added, “I saw the way she looked at you, even when you didn’t notice. I would have sworn it was love.” He hesitated, then finished. “We discovered that she’d done this before with House El Jilali. I’m sorry, Sergi.”

“Is she gone?”

“I took care of it myself.”

He hung his head. They could have assigned her to a different House, but a repeat spy, especially an angry one, couldn’t be trusted not to do it again. Male or female, a traitor could never be left alive.

Devon walked away, and it was four days before Sergi returned to the city to find him and the army waiting for him. They never mentioned her name again. And Sergi never let another female that close to his heart.

The kick to his upper thigh woke him, unaware he’d fallen back to sleep as he recalled the nightmare. A pair of glowing yellow eyes glared at him.

Gheata.

Sergi roared.

Gheata smiled for the first time. “Finally. The beast has been released.”