Jess Haines - Enslaved By the Others

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Vampires, werewolves, magi and worse-the Others have joined the mortal world, and there's no turning back now... As a New York P.I. and Other specialist, Shiarra Waynest has been in plenty of trouble before. But waking up in a windowless room the prisoner of a vampire slave trader is a shock for anyone. Shia has her wits, her bravado, and a couple of used staples, so maybe she can take on a mansion full of serious evil.
But although she's desperate to escape, Shia needs some answers too. Her friends are in danger. There are betrayers and spies among them. And even if she can figure out what's going on and somehow get a message out, she's still a captive of the worst kind...

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“I’ll do it myself, if you’ll let me,” Arnold said.

He and Sara came over to us, his arm around her waist and hers over his shoulder. Her color was better, but she was still leaning on him in a way that told me she wasn’t at her best. She gave me a quick, tight smile. Knowing she wasn’t still pissed at me filled me with relief and made it easier to relax.

Gideon bowed his head, extending his tattooed hand palm up in a strangely subservient gesture. “Master of New York, I wouldn’t presume to offer you or yours any harm. If you will accept my fealty, I will serve you in the same capacity as I did the Master of San Francisco.”

Arnold snorted in disbelief. Royce smiled, a predatory grin that showed off his fangs and made Gideon flinch.

“Really, now. And what are you expecting in return?”

Gideon lowered his head just a bit more. “Protection. I know my actions went against the Accord, but it was to save my own life, and I’d do it again in a hot minute. If you can guarantee me safety, I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Does that include submitting to a blood bond and releasing Ms. Halloway as your familiar?”

Royce’s grip tightened on me as I jerked in his arms, surprised. He kept his gaze locked on Gideon, who grimaced but nodded. “As you wish. Will your blood break the bond to Fabian?”

“Perhaps. How many times have you tasted his blood?”

“Once.”

“Then yes,” Royce replied. “We’ll do a permanent bond. I’ll discuss this with you in greater detail once I have the others settled.” He turned his attention to Arnold, extending a hand. The mage hesitated but accepted the handshake. “Mr. Moore. My thanks for your assistance. My driver will return you and the other members of your coven to your homes. I’ll be in touch about resolving Ms. Halloway’s ... condition tomorrow evening.”

Arnold’s eyes narrowed. “My pleasure. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

Sara huffed, tightening her grip on Arnold. “ We’ll be waiting. I’m not staying here.”

“As you wish,” Royce said, giving Gideon a warning look when it appeared the necromancer was about to object. Gideon’s mouth snapped shut and he looked away, unhappy but not about to argue.

Arnold and Sara both waved good-bye to me as they returned to the limo, gesturing the other magi inside. Much as I had hoped they would have stayed here with us for the night, I couldn’t blame them for wanting to get the hell away from Royce. Magi and vampires didn’t get along at the best of times, and Arnold and Sara deserved some time to reconnect and be alone together.

Royce gestured for the vampires to round everyone up and take them inside. I watched him from under my lashes as he led the way, me at his side, into his home.

Only once we were inside did I start looking around. This place was far more in keeping with the kind of old money I had assumed Royce and the other vampires who answered to him would have to throw around. It didn’t feel the same as the apartment building: a little too posh, a little too unlived in, a few too many gilded edges. On the inside, it was more like Fabian’s home than I wanted to consider. Like it was more for show, a place to flaunt his wealth and impress other people with wads of cash to blow on homes too big for any one family to need.

Royce must have sensed my discomfort. He leaned in to whisper to me, his lips brushing over my ear in a way that sent a delicious shiver down my spine. “I hate this place, but it’s the biggest residential property I have within commuting distance to the city that hasn’t been burned to the foundations. I promise you’ll find our bed more than adequate and far more comfortable. Think you can tolerate it until I purchase and renovate a new apartment building in Manhattan?”

Our bed. He was talking like he expected me to live here. Or wherever. With him. The thought simultaneously filled me with dread and desire.

Well. Maybe more desire than anything else when he gave me that look. Mouth dry, I nodded, hoping whatever business he needed to wrap up before he could show me that bed wouldn’t take long.

Chapter Thirty

We went to a large room with a few couches and chairs, but not nearly enough seats for everyone. Royce set me in one of the chairs to one side, away from the bulk of the crowd but close enough that he could keep an eye on me. At one point, Analie rushed in, ignoring Royce’s look of warning. She shoved a small plate of sugar cookies into my hand, bouncing up and down anxiously on her heels.

“Did you see Gavin? What about Jo-Jo? Did they like the cookies?”

The teenaged werewolf didn’t look like much with her mousy brown hair and gawky frame still not quite grown into itself, but the feral glow to her eyes and the strength of her hand on my arm were all the reminder I needed of her Other side. Gritting my teeth so as not to startle her or scare her off with a cry of pain, I set the plate aside and tugged her fingers until she got the hint and loosened her grip. Once the pressure let up, it was a lot easier to give her a warm, comforting smile.

“They both liked the cookies. Gavin sends his love and Jo-Jo misses you every day.” I paused, giving her a moment to collect herself as tears built in her eyes. Poor kid. So far from her friends and family, a semi-willing “guest” of the vampires, she must have been frantic for news of her pack. Even knowing she could turn into a monstrously huge werewolf—one of the Goliath pack, who more than lived up to their name—I couldn’t resist giving her the hug she so obviously needed. She managed to keep herself together and not crush me, though, pressed so close, I could feel her suppressed sobs.

She pulled back soon enough, swiping the building moisture from her eyes with the back of a hand. Sniffling, she gave me a watery smile. “Thank you. Thank you so much. They mean the world to me.”

I nodded, then grimaced. “Analie, I’m so sorry—they both wrote you letters, but after what happened back there—”

Her face fell, the tragedy written there breaking my heart. I grabbed her hand to give it a squeeze, not surprised to feel a bit of fur under my fingers as the stress was getting the better of her. Royce was making his way over, his intent to boot Analie out written all over his face. I tugged her arm to get her going, speaking in a rush.

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Royce. We’ll figure out a way for you to get in touch with them. Go on, we’ll powwow on it tomorrow.”

Her smile wasn’t quite so forced this time. With a determined nod, she bolted, zigzagging through the crowd and disappearing through the door.

By the time all of the humans, vampires, and miscellaneous Others squeezed in, the place was packed. Luke kept twitching and moving around. Patches of fur intermittently popped up on his arms and neck as he searched for space to pace, not finding it. Once Royce reached my side, Analie was long gone, and he did not look amused.

“You should let Clarisse show you upstairs,” Royce told me, waving her over from across the room.

I shook my head, scowling at him. “What? After all I’ve been through with these people, you really want me to leave?”

“I do. I know you well enough to know you will object to what needs to be done.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Clarisse startled the hell out of me when she snuck up behind me much sooner than expected considering the crowd to hook her arm in mine before I could pull away. Her long, curly black hair was tied out of her pale, freckled face with ribbons that matched her bright green eyes. She grinned up at me, her Shirley Temple dimples doing an excellent job of making her fangs look more like part of a cheap Halloween costume than a genuine threat.

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