Jess Haines - Enslaved By the Others

Sharp cracks were followed by a wet ripping sound, and a fine spray of cold, red mist hit my face and hands. Panting with terror, I dropped my empty gun and scrabbled for the sword with my off hand.

Before I could reach it, cold fingers slid around the back of my neck and yanked me up to my feet.

I screamed so loud and shrill I managed to startle myself.

Max whirled me around and then slapped me so hard, stars filled my vision and blood filled my mouth from the blow and from my own fangs cutting into my lower lip. Before I could fall, his fingers curled around my throat, cutting off my breath and lifting me until my feet dangled off the floor.

The ringing in my ears didn’t last long, but between him cutting off my air and the blood in my throat, I was starting to black out. He ran his thumb over the blood dribbling down my cheek, making it a point to flick one of my fangs, then sucked the smear of liquid off with a grim, red smile.

“I’m going to enjoy sucking the life out of you. Giving it back just to take it away again.”

Then he stumbled and dropped me as Iana plowed into him from behind, a curved scimitar jutting out between his ribs. My knees were like jelly, collapsing under me as I fell. A choked off cry was all I could manage as pain jolted up my wrist when I tried to catch myself. Max must have sprained or broken it when he shook the sword out of my hand before.

Iana snarled and clawed at Max from behind, her legs latched around his waist and her body pressed tight against him to keep him from dislodging the weapon. Her hands were glowing again and everywhere she touched him, terrible burns appeared on his skin. He kept trying to grab her arms but every time he got a grip, her free hand would swipe along any exposed part of him she could reach and tear at the skin and muscle until he let go.

With a roar, he twisted around and body-slammed her into the ground, which had the added effect of shoving the scimitar even deeper into his chest. The lights on her hands winked out and she let go with an inhuman, ululating screech of pain. They both rolled away from each other to rise into wary crouches, each looking for an opening.

Max kept his eyes on her as he gripped the flat of the blade and started to push it out. Aside from a slight tightening around his eyes, I saw no sign that he felt any pain. The slow, taunting smile that spread over his lips only seemed to infuriate her further.

“Just like old times,” he whispered.

Whatever that meant to her, it struck home. She moved with the clear, vicious intent of a monster, and I could almost see phantom talons and the shadow of something far bigger than her petite frame sweeping down on Max. It wasn’t enough. He swatted her aside, sending her into an ungainly sprawl she quickly recovered from. Seething, she regained her footing and reached for another weapon as he moved toward her.

“I will rain fire and blood on this house. I will end your life and bloodline, and all you hold dear. I will—”

“You will shut up and go back to your cage, or I will find that last hidden temple you thought I knew nothing about and destroy it.”

Iana lifted her chin, her golden skin turning crimson high on her cheeks. “I would rather see the last temple fall than for you to remain on this earth a minute longer. I’d sooner die than return to you.”

“As you wish.”

Once again, Max moved too quickly for me to follow. Between one blink and the next, he was across the room, a dagger buried in Iana’s gut. The rotting peaches scent that was quick to permeate the room was mixed with the charnel reek of ruptured intestines. Her eyes flared gold as she gasped and bent double, clawing weakly at his chest.

He helped her sink to the ground, one arm over her shoulder to support her on the way as he cradled her jaw, the other keeping the dagger in place.

“Poor sweet,” he said, stroking the back of his hand over her cheek. “If you think it hurts now, just wait until I have the time to properly salt the wounds.”

And that was when I drove the ancient, bronze sword into the sweet spot between his neck and collarbone, deep into his body, angling for his heart.

Bet the sack of shit wasn’t expecting that.

He arched his back, gasping and releasing his grip on Iana to claw at the air. I leaned in from behind, my lips brushing against his ear as I put my weight into the blade to shove it even deeper.

“I know you won’t be around to appreciate this little life lesson much longer, but ... no means no, you fucking unrelenting asshole. ”

His mouth moved, a crimson froth bubbling on his lips. Then he was twisting, on top of me, black, molasses-thick blood dribbling from his mouth onto my face as he snarled down at me. I clenched my teeth and pressed my lips together so none of his blood would get in my mouth.

All it took was a good, adrenaline-fueled yank on the pommel of the sword to make him roll aside, twisting in agony. He tried to speak, his voice a breathy gurgle.

“Ath ... Athena . . . will kill you ... for this . . .”

I rolled too. Once I was on top of him, I wiped his blood off my face and then met his crimson eyes, leaning in to make sure he couldn’t miss my utter contempt. “Wow. Look at all the fucks I don’t give. Save me a ringside seat in hell, you son of a bitch.”

Though I had to use my weaker wrist thanks to how he’d mangled my dominant hand, I still managed to put a twist on the blade and jerk it to the right. I had no idea where all the blood came from considering how much he’d already lost, but a gush of cold, black fluid jetted over the pommel and my fingers and pooled around us on the floor. His struggles became less and less, then stilled, the red glitter in his eyes growing dim and then dying out forever.

I leaned over to grab the blade Iana had dropped, using it to slice off the fucker’s head. Had to be sure. There was no other way to know with certainty that he wasn’t coming back. It took a bit of sawing, and my hands, arms, and knees were coated in a wash of blood, but the sharp blade made the gruesome task easy despite having to use my off-hand.

When it was done, I sat up, tilting my head back and closing my eyes, gulping air. Bands of steel around my heart tightened, a mix of relief and an unexpected sense of loss swirling through me in a wash. Though I wasn’t sure why, tears stung my eyes and an empty, gaping chasm had settled in the region of my chest.

Distantly, the sounds of screaming, loss, agony, rattled through the walls and buzzed in my bones. Vampires. Blood-bound donors. The ones who felt that he was gone.

I knew how they felt. Some part of me was gone. Not like the loss of humanity and self when I had killed someone. Not like the piece of me left behind when I acknowledged I was turning Other.

No. This was something else. Like a hole had been chewed in my heart, a black hole of need that would suck me down into some dark abyss if I let it. The temptation to use the blade on myself didn’t seem so weird on the surface. After all, I would put an end to all the pain and misery and suffering I was already going through.

I would be with Max again.

That was enough of a reminder to tell me that I was still a few beers short of a six-pack, and I needed to rethink my priorities.

Swiping the tears off my cheeks with my palms, I looked around, bleary-eyed. Gideon was still slumped over by the door. The other vampire was a few feet away. The rest of him was close to Gideon, except for that one chunk in the corner.

Iana groaned, and I shook my head in an effort to rid myself of the weird urge to do something to follow Max into oblivion. She needed help. Whatever was going on in my head and whatever afterlife Max had gone to could wait a damned minute while I checked on her and Gideon.