Page 23 of The Huntress (The Blood of Legends #1)

Chapter Twenty-Three

FROM BLISS TO A NIGHTMARE

T he bed dipped, summoning her from her light slumber, and she mumbled a welcome, throwing out an arm in supplication. She touched fabric and moaned in displeasure, rolling over to cradle his dressed form. The bed on his side was cold, but they’d warm it up soon enough.

“Naked,” she said, struggling to open her eyes against her exhaustion.

She ran her hand over his hip, her fingertips brushing over studs and stitching. In an instant, it went from denim to velvet skin.

“Better.”

His naked heat drew her, and she spread her body across his, shivering from his warmth. Rubbing her cheek against his chest, she threw an arm around his waist, sighing with contentment.

“Drink, Callie,” he whispered, and she obeyed, latching her mouth onto his skin yet finding no blood.

Licking her way across, she lapped at the droplets above his left nipple.

It tasted funny, different, not Gabe’s sweet, addictive flavor.

Come to think of it, he didn’t smell the same either. When the last tendrils of lassitude dissipated, she didn’t change her posture. Forcing herself to remain relaxed, she pretended to drink the blood of this unknown suckblood. Cold tendrils of fear fought against her control, wanting to stiffen her muscles, to send shivers down her spine as adrenaline pumped through her veins. Her only option was to distract her rising panic by trying to come up with solutions, but she couldn’t pretend much longer.

Gritting her teeth, she faked a lustful groan even as her heartbeat climbed to a deafening roar. Damn it, where had she left her arsenal? On the bookshelf?

Too far away to help her. Her instincts roared their unhappiness, and she snorted at their sudden revival. Where were they before she’d drunk a stranger’s blood? Her stomach roiled, not liking what it now held. It twisted, and a sharp pain speared through her. At the unexpected agony, she couldn’t swallow the cry that tore from her, lacerating her throat, revealing her pretense.

“What have you done?” She rolled away from the intruder, taking the sheet with her in an attempt at modesty. Gathering it to her chest, she sat up and gasped. She recognized the stranger who would dare to force her, to violate Gabe’s sanctuary.

Darius.

She had to admit, his audacity didn’t surprise her.

“Hello, my pet.” He rose from the bed as he grinned in that irritating way of his, his arrogance palpable. “You’re mine now.”

She blinked in disbelief, wondering if he was stupid or deaf. Gabe had claimed her in front of his people and received Syl’s blessing. Where the hell did Darius think he could go after tonight? Because if Gabe didn’t hunt him down, she sure would.

Backing away from him, she bumped into the headboard behind her. “I’ll never be yours, asshole.”

“You won’t call me that again, youngling.” His voice dropped a few degrees on the chill factor as he appeared before her, so quick he blurred.

Red stained her vision, with her blood pounding in her ears, drowning out her instincts, whispering a warning that her usual sass wouldn’t help the situation. She ignored it. “Wanna bet, asshat? Or do you prefer asswipe?”

“Your lack of appropriate fear and respect will change, my sweet.”

He clothed himself, for which she was grateful. She hadn’t liked his looming nudity nor his apparent arousal.

She trembled, praying Gabe would return, hoping she could clothe herself as well. Her gaze darted around the room, searching for any discarded garment. For once, she wished Gabe hadn’t made her clothing evaporate in the throes of their last heated embrace.

“Soon you will be, shall we say, not yourself?” Darius arched a brow. His gaze traveled the shape of her emphasized by the thin sheet. “Nausea in the pit of your stomach? Sharp pains? A strange fluttering sensation in your chest, as if your heart is palpitating?”

She was feeling all those things. She frowned, not liking that he was correct and had trapped her. A violent shudder racked her body as pins and needles pierced her eyes. She cried out, releasing the sheet to grab her face. It didn’t ease the onslaught, only worsened it. Agony tore through her abdomen, like the many gunshot wounds she’d experienced. She screamed, coiling into a fetal position on the bed, whimpering Gabe’s name, needing him.

What could she do?

Leo! She called to him, hoping to somehow reach him. She didn’t know what she was doing, how to communicate with her mind, but she was desperate.

With the pain crippling her, she couldn’t fight Darius. Helpless to stop him, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Fresh agony lanced through her, the smell of him pooling bile in her mouth, coating her tongue. She gagged.

Leo, you damn suckblood! Help me, please! Kidnapping is a thing even in your stupid culture.

The floor rushed past, and she shut her eyes, fighting the dizziness. The swaying motion of Darius’s gait had her throwing up, and she hoped it was all down his jeans.

Weakness assailed her next, and with her remaining strength, she pressed and held a button on her smartwatch to send a distress signal. Darius had fucked with the wrong woman. She was Gabe’s fiancé. But more than this, she was a police detective. They protected and avenged their own. He’d pissed off Gabe and Barrows, and she almost pitied him when either one found her.

“Fuck you, Darius,” she shouted.

“Oh, yes please,” he chuckled. “As your sire, you’ll have to obey me. You’ll be sucking my cock soon, my pretty.”

“If you want it bitten off, then, by all means, let me near it.” She dry-heaved, ruining the effect of her words. The pain still searing her eye sockets had her squeezing them shut. “Besides, I’ve seen better on a human.” She wasn’t willing to let him win even something so insignificant as trading insults.

Cold night air greeted her, drenching her in waves of ice. Goosebumps rippled along her skin, puckering her nipples to hard points.

He patted her bare backside, his fingers dipping in where they had no right to. Fresh nausea hit her, and she dry-heaved again. She clenched her thighs together, but he only dug his fingernails in until she whimpered, forcing her to relax her muscles. He didn’t stroke her, though, merely kept his intruding fingers there as if he proved his point—she was at his mercy.

He burst into a run, and the dizziness doubled in strength, making her call forth a deep moan.

“Gabe will find me,” she mumbled.

As another shard of pain and a reactive scream tore through her, she hoped she was right.

She had to believe Gabe would find her because she couldn’t handle the alternative.