Jess Haines - Enslaved By the Others

Her eyes flashed orange as she gave me a fierce, fang-filled grin. “You’re welcome. But if you tell anyone I’ve gone soft, I’ll eat that boy’s heart.”

That startled a nervous laugh out of me. Mostly since I wasn’t totally sure she was kidding. Her smile widened, and she shifted to take one of my hands in both of hers, bowing deep over it as she shook it.

“Take care, Shiarra Waynest. I’ll remember the gift you’ve given me.”

And with that, she pulled away, stalking off at a rapid pace—too quickly for me to call out for her to stop and explain what she meant by that.

I put her weird behavior behind me and concentrated on more immediate problems. A slew of gray hairs were my reward for figuring out how to get a gaggle of hungry vampires, half a dozen bitchy magi, one grumpy necromancer, a stuck-up elf, a Were-cat with abandonment issues, and a pile of humans who thought they were being taken for the ride as in-flight snacks, to survive a three hundred-plus-mile road trip and then fit them all in one plane without incident.

The plane was cushy but far too cramped with so many people in it. I counted it a small miracle that the only problems along the way were a couple of fear-fueled fits from the humans, a brief shouting match between the elf and one of the vampires who was being a tad too attentive to him (read: his jugular), and Luke the Were-puma panic-shifting during takeoff. Oh, and learning the hard way that feeding a necromancer drive-thru fast food does nothing to improve his smell in close, inadequately ventilated quarters.

Seeing as no human or immortal bodily fluids stained the furniture or carpeting along the way, I figured that was our best-case scenario, and called it good.

A trio of limousines picked us up on the tarmac of a private airport on Long Island. Smaller and not nearly as crowded or as big of a pain in the ass to navigate as JFK or LaGuardia, I might have appreciated it more if I didn’t have a bunch of freaked out people begging me for info about where we were going and what was going to happen to them. Angus hadn’t made any mention of Royce’s plans, and the vampire had left me to ride with the other humans in the second limo.

It didn’t take us long to get where we were going. Once off the expressway, we followed a winding set of streets I had never traveled before. And no wonder. This looked like the kind of neighborhood Sara’s parents had considered their natural habitat when they weren’t strutting around Wall Street. The country clubs, sprawling properties, and large colonial-style homes peeking between the carefully placed lines of trees, walls, and security gates clued me in that we were somewhere near the North Shore.

Old money oozed from the very foundations of these properties. Though I had been suitably impressed by Royce’s offices, clubs, and the apartment building within spitting distance of Central Park, my move-along-before-you-get-the-veneer-dirty sense was tingling. Some of the buildings shared a distinct resemblance to, if not the acreage of, Max’s property back in Illinois. When we pulled into the driveway for our destination, I fought down an irrational sense of panic. It didn’t look that much like my former prison.

The place was much less austere than Max’s home. Strategically placed lampposts bordering the driveway drove back the dark and illuminated gorgeous landscaping. The ornamental spruce and holly trees gave the place a touch of warm green even though the maple, apple, and dogwood trees on some of the neighboring properties were nothing but bare, skeletal branches clawing at the star-studded sky. The grand, sweeping manor was nowhere near comparable in size to the prison I had left behind. This place was maybe ten to twelve bedrooms, judging from the outside.

By the time the limos reached the island walkway at the top of the circular drive, Royce, Mouse, Clarisse, and Wesley were waiting under the columned gable sheltering the front porch.

I wasn’t sure who said it, but someone whispered a few words that did a great job at spreading panic all over again. “We’re gonna die.”

“No, you’re not,” I said, harsh enough that the frantic whispers quieted. “Relax, you’re in safe hands now. Royce will make sure you all get home in one piece.”

They didn’t argue, but I could see the disbelief written across a few faces. Shaking my head, I didn’t wait for the driver to come around, scooting over to open the door myself and step out. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of air thick with wood smoke and just a touch of saltwater drifting in from the Long Island Sound. Tension I hadn’t noticed until it was gone dissipated with the familiar scents of home.

I didn’t have to see to know Royce was approaching. The feel of him, his desire and concern, washed over me in the same way as Max’s need to control me. It felt foreign, and maybe a little disconcerting, to have someone else’s tender emotions in my headspace, but not entirely unwelcome.

When I opened my eyes again, he was inches away, studying me—not reaching out just yet. To see him there, that black, all-encompassing hunger burning in his eyes, sent a roil of terror so sharply through my midsection that I couldn’t breathe around it. Even when his features softened with concern, I was so buried under a wave of panic that when he did touch me, reaching up to brush chill fingertips over my cheek, I almost passed out.

“Oh, my little hunter,” he breathed, “I am so sorry.”

“Little late for that, don’t you think?”

My voice might have come out as an undignified squeak, but he got the hint. I felt the remorse he radiated far more clearly than I could see it reflected in the tightening around his eyes or the frown etching little lines around his mouth. He held out his arms in invitation, and this time I didn’t hesitate. It took more effort than I wanted to think about to keep from bursting into tears as I leaned into his embrace. Closing my eyes tight, I buried my fingers in the silky fabric of his shirt and released a shuddering breath.

For the first time in a long time, I felt safe.

He tilted his head to rest his cheek against my temple, nose buried in my hair, breathing in the scent of me. Then withdrew a fraction. It was either the smell of Gideon or from being stuck in the car and then the plane for hours that did it, I was sure.

Embarrassed, I pulled away, clearing my throat and waving my hand at the people coming out of the limo behind me and huddling in a nervous clump together. “They’re going to need help getting home.”

With a little growl, he tugged me back into him, wrapping his arms around me as he examined the others from over my shoulder. I relaxed into him, trying not to be so fidgety and self-conscious.

“Yes, so Angus told me. I’ll take care of it. We have much to discuss—Athena will be coming to meet you once she settles Max’s affairs in Chicago. Somehow she found out about your involvement, and she’s very curious about the human who felled her eldest progeny. Which reminds me, where is the necromancer?”

“He’s over here.”

Gideon was eyeing Royce with distrust, standing on his own while the magi were a couple yards away in a pointedly separate group over by the last limo. Even in ill-fitting sweats and cheap sneakers, and his neck covered in a red-spotted bandage, he managed to radiate a dangerous combination of power and confidence. It was in the set of his shoulders, the way he held himself, the intensity of his gaze.

I tilted my head up to see what Royce thought of him, but he’d schooled his features into a neutral expression. The only hint I had to his displeasure was the glimmer of red building in his eyes.

“Gideon. Breaker of the Accord.” The necromancer’s expression shifted to uneasiness, and he took a half step back as Royce continued. “Not to worry. I know your motivations for turning on Euphron and what you have done to assist Shiarra to return to me. You are welcome here. However,” he continued, his voice taking on a dangerous edge that had me squirming in remembered fear, “if I find you making any attempt at the same actions in my home, against my people, I will have the magi bind you.”