Cat Fights and Feeding Frenzies

I should have called the cops, not Gracen. It goes straight to voicemail anyhow, and I give a tearful swear, certain that he’s lying buried in a ditch somewhere. Luc’s men went and killed him. Either that or…

Or he’s locked up somewhere in this underground estate, the same as me.

I think over all Luc’s comments. He was talking about Gracen in the present, joking how he should share me with him and have him manage my moods. “That means he’s alive.” But he is also, most clearly, not back at work as Luc claimed, otherwise he would have reported this, right? Sent someone to rescue me, or at the bare minimum be answering his freaking phone.

He has to be imprisoned, and I need to find out where and help him.

Only... I have no map of this place. I am in fact already lost in this network of twisting hallways, and I haven’t even caught sight of a stairwell leading back to the surface.

Forget rescuing anyone, Leah, you can’t even find your own way out of here, not at the moment.

So should I dial 9-1-1? Tell them I’ve been kidnapped by this cult who runs Club Noctus and--

And even if they believe me, a team of mortal officers stands no chance against a dozen vampires and their fanatical praels. These people do not want to escape this decadent dungeon. They’d fight to defend their masters, and those masters are so freaking strong and fast that they hardly even need the protection.

If a SWAT team comes knocking down these doors, then in ten minutes flat all I’d have is a dead SWAT team bleeding out into the Persian rugs. Either that, or maybe Luc would turn them, dope them all up on his blood before sending them back to their precinct to report that nothing was amiss down here and it was just a crazy prank call.

I stare at the dial screen in indecision for another long, tense minute. Then a voice sounds at the head of the hall behind me. “Hey, Leah!”

I tuck the phone into my bra and turn to face those dual footsteps clicking down the hallway toward my back. It’s not vampires. It’s a pair of dark-eyed women. One is majorly curvy, the other: delicate and slim, but both are probably capable of making some serious cash modeling, or stripping on Only Fans. I saw these two briefly at Luc’s ‘let’s tap Leah like a beer keg’ event last night. They were standing in the corners of the room with no master and no seat at the table. Now they look like they have a serious bone to pick, both glaring daggers, so I’m going to go ahead and guess… “Did Luc--?”

The taller one knots her fist in my hair, slamming me face first into the wall before I can think to react. “Get his name out of your filthy whore mouth.”

“We’re supposed to share,” the doll-looking one who first called my name rebukes.

“We are happy to share,” her brutal partner insists, flicking out a fucking switchblade!

“But what you did was steal,” little Dolly accuses, standing with arms folded merrily behind her back, as evil Wonder Woman yanks hard on that fistful of hair and presses her knife to my cheek. “Luc won’t even look at us now.”

“Won’t take a single bite.”

“So now Jade is going to carve up that pretty face of yours.”

Jade gives a grisly smile. “He won’t like you so much once we cut out your tongue, carve off your lips, cut you down there and make sure you will never again enjoy--”

A hand of dead-white flesh appears clamped around her neck and the threats cut out with an ugly gasp. Unlike their noisy assault, I never heard Damian’s approach, but I can hear all too clearly the snapping of Jade’s spine between his fingers, the cracking of her wrist like a piece of firewood, as the switchblade clatters to the ground.

China-doll throws herself face-first to the ground in a desperate kowtow, whimpering, “Oh… Why? Why? We didn’t mean to upset you, Lord Damian. We would never--”

“Any vampire in this coven would be upset with you,” Damian growls, looming over the prael. “You dared try to ruin an immortal’s possession?”

“Don’t tell Luc. Just please don’t tell him—”

“You’re worrying about Luc?” Damian’s incensed, incredulous smile makes my blood run cold.

Doll-face casts a timid glance toward the remains of her dead friend. "Please--"

Damian’s hand closes around her throat, and she turns up her palms, wrists raised in clear offering as she forces out the word. “Drink, as much as you want! I eat strictly vegan, to keep the flavors nice and--”

He breaks her neck. “I’ve no interest in Luc’s sloppy leftovers. Save one little dish that is.” He turns back to me, tossing the corpse to land in a crumpled pile atop her homicidal friend.

Those eyes cut right through me, as he plants one hand against the wall and tells me gloatingly, “I could smell you from half way across the east wing, just like our first meeting. You really shouldn’t be wandering these halls without your master.”

“Luc is not my master,” I shakily insist, and Damian cups his hand under my breast, drawing out the cellphone.

“So I see. Planning to leave him, were you? Good.” He smashes the phone into the wall. “But praels don’t need to be talking to the outside world. Call for help all you like though…” He presses his lips to my neck. “Scream until your voice gives out.”

I try to shove him away, already doing just that. Then he bites down and my cry turns into a breathy gasp.

He moans, eyes flying wide, as his fingers dig into my backside, and he starts sucking it down.

I’m not doing this again. I’m not letting him drain me. I drive my fist into his stomach and feel his shoulders shake with laughter, teeth releasing with the breathy words, “Fuck. I’d like to get you in the sack. I never thought it’d be this good...” He tries to lean back in for another draw, but I turn my shoulder and his forehead finds the wall instead. He’s shaky on his feet, hands losing strength, as he topples to the ground with eyes glossy and unfocused.

Another one bites the dust, and now would be the perfect opportunity to start a mad dash toward the exit of this place, if only Luc’s guards weren’t already right there at both ends of the hallway. They’re staring at Damian – his eyes distant and dreamy as he gazes up into space, completely incapacitated. They saw pretty much the same reaction from Luc that evening at the club, and I can see the hunger in their eyes as they shift over to fix on me. Will they drag me right back to my locked bedroom now? Or will they all take a taste first of the delectable dish that’s driving all the masters of this coven crazy? Luc’s not here to stop them after all. Though there is no way I will survive a dozen vampires all clamping their teeth into my arteries in a group feeding frenzy.