Jess Haines: Enslaved By the Others

I missed Royce with a fierce, desperate ache. It might have taken a hell of a wake-up call for me to realize it, but even though he was a vampire, Royce was no monster. I’d heard those words, even said and thought them before, but it wasn’t until I saw what depths of corruption and betrayal Max and Fabian were capable of that I truly believed it. Compared to those two, Royce was a saint—and despite all the reasons I may have given him to be furious with me, he had remained patient and understanding in the face of my doubts.

It had taken me a hell of a long time to face facts, but being a vampire wasn’t what made someone villainous. Like humans, they could use their power and influence for good, evil, and everything in between. It was too bad this hadn’t sunk in until I was in a situation where the knowledge didn’t do me any good, and I had no way of telling Royce how sorry I was for ever thinking he was capable of the same evils as Max Carlyle.

Max’s men must have left me alone for a long time. I hadn’t even noticed when I dropped off. The sound of a key rattling in the door startled me awake, a brief fright at not remembering where I was morphing into full-fledged panic as the memories of Max and my predicament came back to me. Jerking up to my feet and rubbing the sleep and dried remnants of tears out of my eyes, I stumbled back to the far corner of the room as the door opened.

This time two unfamiliar men entered, and neither looked friendly. One had a patch covering an eye bisected by a scar that ran from his eyebrow to his jawbone. The other was built like a truck and had the look of one who would joyfully kick puppies and other small, helpless animals. The way he was eyeing me made me wonder if he slotted me into that category.

“C’mere,” said the one with the scar, beckoning for me to come to him while the other picked up the tray.

“No.”

“Master says you been bit. Take yer damn vitamins, girl, and let’s go.”

The other guy extended his thick palm, now holding the pills from the tray. I didn’t want to take them, but thoughts of Max’s potential retribution if I should disobey his henchmen had me inching closer to take them. They watched impassively while I dry-swallowed the pills, grimacing at the bitter taste. Once I’d done as ordered, the big guy went off toward the stairs with the tray while the one with the scar led me down the hall to an unlocked door. He followed me inside, standing at the door with his arms folded while I took in the strange scene before me.

There were men and women being herded through an assembly-line process. First they were given some kind of wax treatment or had their eyebrows shaped. Then they entered a shower stall—open to the rest of the room, hoo boy—and washed up. Next they were toweled off and settled in front of a hairdresser. As their hair was trimmed, someone else gave them some kind of skin treatment; various oils or creams were rubbed onto any body part that didn’t pass inspection. That was followed by a manicure, pedicure, and some attention from a young girl wielding a tackle box full of cosmetics.

It was like the world’s creepiest spa. What the hell was this operation?

Once they were done, they were led out a door on the other side of the room by a guy in a suit, much like the one shoving me in the direction of the shower.

“Stop staring and get on with it. Haven’t got all day.”

The demand was clear—but there was no way I was getting naked in a room full of strangers. I edged away from him, shaking my head. He muttered under his breath and then reached out to grab my arm again.

I reacted without thought. As he tugged me forward, I used the momentum to slam my heel into his instep, followed by smashing my elbow into his face. As blood spurted from his nose he cursed and let me go. As he doubled over, I took the opportunity to knee him in the jaw, sending him stumbling back.

That earned a few curious looks from the workers and some of the people being attended to. The guards or handlers or whatever they were started moving in my direction, none looking too pleased. I didn’t bother waiting around to see if anyone else was going to try their luck at stopping me. I dashed out the door, sprinting for the stairs.

Just my luck, as Scar-face stumbled into the hallway behind me, still clutching his spurting nose and followed by a few other men in matching suits, Max Carlyle was coming down the stairs, flanked by the dark-skinned Cajun and a handful of bodyguards. The vampire stopped in his tracks, once more clearly as surprised to see me as I was to see him. I twisted around, ran right smack into the chest of Scar-face, and suddenly found myself on my back, blood in my mouth and stars in my eyes as I blinked up at the ceiling.

Max and the Cajun knelt down on either side of me. Max touched my lip with his thumb, then brought it to his mouth, sucking the blood off it. Throbbing pain radiated from my mouth, warm wetness sliding over my tongue and down my jaw to drip into my hair. Though rattled and woozy, all I could think about was escape. He put a hand to my stomach to keep me from rising as he addressed the other man.

“I’m quite at a loss, Francisco. She’s infected and clearly too violent to leave with the others. I need her wits intact if she’s to be of any use. What do you suggest?”

Francisco also touched my bloodied lip, studying me much as Max had done, though he didn’t taste what he got on his fingers.

“A puzzling quandary, to be sure. Remarkable that she’s been shrugging off commands.” Had I? That was news to me. “Rhathos had some success, did he not? Perhaps you should explore his methods of taming her. He must have done something differently to merit her bowing to his will where she refuses to submit to yours.”

“Shiarra.” Max stroked my cheek with his free hand, and the bottom fell out of my world when I met his eyes. “Tell me what Alec has done differently with you. Why do you obey him?”

His voice rang so sweetly I couldn’t help but answer him, though a few times I choked on my own blood. “... cares about me ... doesn’t hurt ...”

Max’s gaze flicked up to meet Francisco’s, and the two shared a look I couldn’t read. Reality came crashing back, along with the awareness that I was completely fucked. Francisco jerked back when I flailed, struggling to get out from under Max’s hand. The ancient vampire hissed at me to be still. Though I hated him for it, I had to obey, going rigid.

Max gestured ahead to the room where Scar-face had earlier taken me. “The facilities, as I mentioned, are excellent. Take advantage as you please, and do let me know if you need anything else. I’ll join you when I have a moment.”

Francisco inclined his head and smiled genially. “Take your time, Euphron. I am in no rush.”

Max scooped me up in his arms and, leaving Francisco and his guards behind, took the stairs. When he reached the security door at the top, he made me close my eyes before he worked the keypad. Only after the door was open, sliding on oiled rollers into a recessed alcove in the wall, was I allowed to look around.

The place was huge. The white marble floors veined with gold reflected the lights of half a dozen chandeliers above our heads, shining with rich opulence on the museum-quality furniture and artwork hanging on the walls. The brief glimpse I got of the prison I was leaving behind was of a section of the wall that slid back into place, silent and seamless, behind us. I couldn’t even tell where the mechanism was to get inside, but did my best to take note of the details of the room so I could find it again. He’d designed the perfect camouflage to hide his stash of human captives.

Max’s footsteps echoed softly as he carried me through the place, each room bigger and more magnificent than the last. It was like a weird cross between a swanky hotel and a museum. We passed an indoor pool, sparkling fountains, statuary, exotic birds in gilded cages, and uniformed maids and butlers who bowed and turned their eyes away when we passed.