Jess Haines - Enslaved By the Others

“It means the lad’s done something naughty and hasn’t figured out a good way of keeping it from ye or explaining it in a way you’ll accept yet. Aye?”

Royce’s response was as sour as hers was cheery. “Aye. Yes. Shiarra, I’m sorry. This won’t be comfortable for you to witness. You should wait in the other room.”

He didn’t word it as a request. This was it. Whatever he was about to do, this was the thing Soo-Jin had warned me about. I knew it in my gut. I widened my stance, digging my heels in when Clarisse pulled my arm.

“I’ll stay here, thanks.”

His eyes narrowed, but he nodded to Clarisse, who stopped tugging at me. There was a chill edge to his voice that had never been there before, save for when he threatened me into signing the contract that made me his donor.

“If you insist. Keep any objections to yourself. You may not like it, but what I’m about to do is necessary. If you question me or interfere in any way, Clarisse will remove you.”

A bit stung by that, I nodded, vowing to keep my mouth shut. Whatever happened, no matter what he did, I would not suffer the indignity of being railroaded out. He pointed me to a plush, overstuffed chair as he moved into position to address the room.

He cut quite a figure there, flanked by the columns at either side of the wide mouth of a granite fireplace. His tailored button-down shirt outlined the sculpted planes of his chest, and I had to suppress a slew of thoughts about biting those buttons off to get at what was hidden under the silky material.

The bastard had just issued an ultimatum that should have had me wanting to throttle him, not rip his clothes off. Though the ghost of a smile that touched his lips, and my sense of his eyes on me before he cleared his throat for the attention of the others, hinted that he knew exactly where my thoughts had wandered. Maybe—just maybe—he’d even had a hand in directing them there.

I would have a little chat with him about that once we were alone.

Gideon sidled close to where Royce had me sit, folding his arms and surveying the room like he owned it. Luke the Were-cat settled on the other side of me, taking a similar stance. If I hadn’t known any better, I might have thought they considered themselves my bodyguards. Clarisse sat on the arm of the chair, holding my hand as she watched Royce.

I spared a glance to the group of people doing their best to fade into the background, failing miserably since many of the vampires were drawn to their fear. Most of the humans looked like they were on the verge of losing their lunches or their sanity. Maybe both. One of them was shaking so badly that a nearby vampire getting jostled grabbed her upper arms to hold her still. She promptly fainted, leaving the vampire holding her limp frame looking stricken and confused, and the closest people shuffling as far away as they could.

Royce cleared his throat a second time, and that was enough to send a hush through the room, everyone giving him their attention.

“My thanks to those of you who assisted in returning my property to me.”

Clarisse’s hand tightened on mine when I flinched. The reminder of what Max had made me into—what the rest of vampire society viewed me as—coming from Royce’s lips hurt in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

His gaze flicked over the unfamiliar faces, studying them briefly before he picked out the elf and Were-puma among them. “I assume you two have clans to be returned to, yes?”

“Yes,” the elf said at the same time Luke said, “No, I don’t have a pride.”

Royce gestured to Wesley. “See to these two, would you?”

He waited until Wesley led the pair out of the room. Once they were gone, leaving only the vampires, humans, and Gideon behind, Royce bowed his head, briefly rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was clearly uncomfortable, but resigned himself to whatever it was he was about to do. His expression was hard, though tinged with regret when he turned his attention to the humans huddled across the room.

“Have any of you been bitten? Scarred? Those of you who bear any physical marks from your time in captivity, come to me.”

Clarisse’s hand on my shoulder was all that kept me from giving in to the urge to approach and join the group of people shuffling closer to him, drawn like moths to a flame. There were only three who stayed where they were, as well as the girl who had passed out and was still cradled in the vampire’s arms. The trio clung to each other, staring in mute horror as Royce spread his arms and nodded to the remaining vampires.

Several of them stepped forward to take those people into their arms, looking deep into their eyes and whispering instructions. I was close enough to overhear a few of them. They were enchanting them into forgetting Max, forgetting their confinement, and urging them to sign contracts and move in with one of these other vampires as soon as possible. If questioned about the source of their scars, they were to say it was from their new vampire masters, received after the contract was signed.

The other three girls were still clinging to each other for safety, though they made no effort to run. Outnumbered and adrift in a room full of Others, the futility of their situation was obvious. One, I noticed, was the girl who had spoken in the language I couldn’t place. She may not have understood what anyone was saying, but she could see enough to understand and be afraid.

Sick to my stomach by the implications, I looked back to Royce, who was using his considerable mindfuck powers to call over the remaining three women. They approached together, still afraid, but unable to refuse seeing as they were staring so intently into his eyes.

Once they were close enough, he settled his hands on the cheeks of one, tilting her head up so she couldn’t avoid his gaze. Her mouth went slack, eyes glazing over.

“Your name?”

“Brittany. Brittany Reynolds,” she whispered.

“And where are you from? Did anyone see you get taken by Max’s men?”

“From Iowa. Nobody saw. It was dark.”

He asked a few similar, probing questions about who she was and where she was from. Her family. Her friends. How she spent her free time. Things that might have given him hints as to how Max or his cronies had chosen her. Things he could use to fabricate a reason for her disappearance that her friends and family and coworkers would accept—something easier to swallow than “temporary unavailability due to enslavement by vampires.”

It was both fascinating and chilling to watch him work. Once he had all the info he needed, including a home address for her parents where she could be safely dropped off, the real work started. His gaze narrowed, and he leaned forward, his fingers tightening just a bit to make little indentations on her temples as his tones shifted from questioning to commanding.

“When I tell you to sleep, you will close your eyes and rest. You will not wake until ordered, and when you do, you won’t remember anything about who took you, where you were, or what happened to you. You never saw this place or any of these people. You will stay away from vampires and anyone who works for them from now on. Sleep, Brittany. Forget us. Forget Max. Forget me.”

Her eyes drifted shut and she sagged against him. He held her to him, smoothing her hair back from her face. There might have been some remorse there, but aside from a slight twist to his lips I couldn’t tell if it bothered him at all that the black enchant he had cast over this woman guaranteed pieces of her mind would be altered forever. He slid his arms under her legs and lifted her up so he could lay her out on a nearby couch.

He then looked to me, taking in my reaction much as he had studied her. I’m not sure what was reflected on my face. Disgust, maybe? Amazement, definitely. And a return of that bone-deep fear I had once held for him, a fear I had conveniently forgotten after we had spent an amazing night together in bed.