Page 34 of Upon Blooded Lips (Vengeance #1)
TESSA
I flinch behind the corner of the wall near the staircase, the raised voices from below ringing through the house and bringing up traumatic flashbacks. So much for getting to sleep in and enjoy my deliciously aching body.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Nate roars, setting my teeth on edge.
“There’s some asshole stalking her, the police are still looking for her, and if her cunt of a mother ever puts two and two together and realizes she might be with us…
” His voice breaks off with a startled yelp. “Did you just fucking whip me?”
“Yes. If you’re going to act like a child, I’m damn well going to treat you like one!” The Duke shouts back in an authoritative tone that makes me snap up straight. I swear she uses it like Pavlov’s bell, conditioning people to obey her without thought.
“You left her unprotected!”
Guilt slams into me. I’m the one who asked her to leave. I was so desperate to get laid I didn’t consider the consequences.
“I did no such thing. Have you noticed the forest surrounding us? Hmm? Did you ever consider that we may have been patrolling the area outside of the boundary wall? That we were hiding in plain sight?” I wet my lips, waiting for Nate to answer.
When he doesn’t, Kerry continues, “We waited to leave until after you arrived home. I wouldn’t put your girl in danger, Nate, because I’ve come to care for her too.
I thought you knew me better than that.”
I peek around the corner. Nate paces the foyer, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he grumbles. “I should have known you wouldn’t.”
She slaps him on the back. “No hard feelings. Now tell Tessa to stop hiding and come downstairs. We’ve got a busy day ahead.”
Gulping, I step out and hurry down the stairs, my head bowed. “Sorry,” I whisper to The Duke, still feeling that thread of guilt.
She winks and throws an arm over my shoulder. “How was it?”
I bite my lip, my cheeks burning. She cackles and steers me into the dining room, where Eric waits with platters of French toast, bowls of tropical fruit, and parfait dishes layered with yogurt and granola.
“So, what are we doing today?” I ask, grabbing a yogurt. Gotta be healthy, right? Damn, the French toast looks good though.
“Going on your first kill,” The Duke replies, placing four thick slices of French toast on her plate.
Granola catches in my throat, and I cough, spluttering while trying to breathe.
Eric claps my back hard enough to send the granola flying across the table.
It lands perfectly in the center of Nate’s plate, who raises a brow and shoves his plate to the side.
He had his tongue inside my pussy last night, and a little soggy granola grosses him out? Rude.
“I’m what, now?” I gasp, grabbing a glass of water and chugging it down.
The Duke grins at me, the smile edged with something dangerous. “We can’t train you forever, and I have to get back to my business. You’re as ready as I can make you in the time we’ve had. Think of it like a test. If you pass, you’re ready to begin exacting your revenge.”
I twist my fingers together. “And if I don’t pass?”
“Then you’ll need to work with Eric and Nate more. If I could stay longer, I would.” She reaches over and grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’ll do fine, Tessa. All three of us will be with you if you need help.”
I take a deep breath and nod. You can help too if I need it, right?
Duh.
“So, who are we killing?”
We pull up to a nondescript warehouse, identical to the thirty others surrounding it.
Located in downtown Willowmen near the river, there’s nothing about it to make it stand out.
No one was willing to answer my questions at breakfast or during the ride over, so I find myself curious when Eric opens my door and hands me out of the SUV.
I cross my arms, rocking back on my feet while staring up at the expansive building.
Eric grins down at me. “Come on, we’ve got a surprise for you.
” He holds his hand out, and a tingle of electricity travels through me where our fingers link.
He swings our arms as we walk toward the entrance, Nate and Kerry falling into step behind us.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t a mostly empty room. Random cardboard boxes litter the dusty floor, along with an old bed frame and a dresser that’s seen better days.
“It’s for show,” Nate explains. I glance over my shoulder at him, remembering the way he owned my body last night.
He gives me a look that suggests he knows exactly what I’m thinking about, and my cheeks heat again.
I really need them to stop doing that. “If law enforcement ever comes by, this is all they’ll find. ” He gestures at the junk.
“I don’t understand.”
“You will,” Eric says, his lips tugging into an enigmatic smile.
A small overseer’s office sits at the back of the warehouse.
Unlike the main space, this room is furnished.
Two wooden desks sit side by side with two ratty chairs tucked neatly into the space in the middle.
Mostly empty bookshelves line one wall, a few scattered files littering the shelves.
A faded and threadbare rug cushions the scratched floor.
Eric lets go of my hand and locks us in the room. Nate opens a panel behind a framed picture of downtown Chicago and presses a button. The bookshelves part, revealing an elevator. What exactly are they hiding? And secret elevators? Sign me up.
We step inside, and it begins its descent, my ears popping with each level. When the doors whoosh open into a pitch-black space, I hesitate.
“After you, my lady,” Eric says with an elaborate flourish.
“How about you go first and The Duke walks behind me?” I counter.
“Afraid of the spiders?” Eric asks, raising a brow.
“Sp-spiders?”
Nate chuckles and steps out of the elevator. Lights flicker on, and I peer out, running my gaze over the long hallway.
Eric scoffs and yanks on my arm. “Come on, scaredy-cat. I won’t let the spiders eat you.”
We trail down the hall, the thick metal walls and rubber floor absorbing our footsteps, eventually coming to a stop in front of a barred door. “Okay, what is this place?” I demand. “No more bullshitting me.”
Nate places his hand on the biometric scanner.
The door buzzes and unlocks, and he pushes it open.
Eric flicks a switch, and soft lights flicker on, illuminating the vast underground room.
I step inside, my heart fluttering as I take it all in.
It’s so big I can barely make out the far edges of the room.
“It’s our killing space,” Eric says, glancing at me like he’s gauging my reaction. “We’ve got it set up into a maze right now, but the panels are retractable and movable so we can design anything we want down here.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“One guy was terrified of doctors and needles. So we recreated a surgical room to add to his torture.”
“That’s diabolical,” I whisper, my eyes growing large at the implications.
I could have so much fun down here. Moving around the room, I take everything in like a kid in a candy store.
Two large storage closets containing various props and weapons line one of the shorter walls, while a large tub sits in one corner near a massive steel box with a pipe leading up to the ceiling, which must be a good twenty feet high. “What are these for?”
“The tub is for acid or lyme for dissolving bodies. The other is an incinerator.”
It doesn’t take a genius to know what that’s for.
I keep going, coming across what looks like a large tank. “And this?”
Eric grins. “Anything you want it to be. You can drown or gas someone in it, or fill it with spiders or venomous snakes. We can even suction out the air and let them suffocate.”
There’s something wrong with me that this doesn’t bother me, right?
There should be something—dismay, disgust, maybe even a healthy dose of fear.
But there’s nothing. It’s like a cold detachment has settled where my conscience should reside.
Maybe my parents beat all the goodness out of me, or perhaps David killed an essential part of me, the part that should, by all rights, find this horrifying.
Instead, a sort of thrill goes through me. This is my own private Wonderland, and I am the Queen of Hearts, free to create whatever torturous wonders I wish.
Off with their heads.
I spin around, wrapping my arms around myself. “So, what’s the surprise?”
This time, Nate grabs my hand and pulls me farther into the room. We stop in front of a line of three cells, two of which are empty. But the third? Oh, yes. I know him.
“Hello, Dr. Palmer,” I say, tilting my head with a malicious smile tugging at my lips.
The man who patched me up after Presley’s beating and took away my ability to have children looks up from the metal cot, his lips parched and cracked, eyes dim and defeated. “Miss Harrison,” he whispers.
I turn to Nate, bouncing on my toes. “I want to play.”
Mirror Girl’s maniacal laugh bounces around my skull, and my smile grows even wider.