D. Reynolds - Aden

“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, little girl. A lot of trouble,” he repeated thoughtfully, almost as if he was talking to himself. “But no matter. I’ve got you now.” He nodded to the guard holding her arm, and she was shoved forward and to her knees, so that she had to look up at Pinto as the tape was ripped off her mouth.

“That’s better,” he said, gazing down at her with cold eyes. “That’s where you belong, where all of you belong.”

“All of us,” Sid croaked, ignoring the voice inside her head that was telling her to shut up. She knew that it would be smarter, but if she was going to die, she was going to go down fighting, even if all she had to fight with were her words. “You mean all of us humans, or all of us women? You have a problem with women, Pinto?”

She saw the rage fill his face seconds before he leaned over and backhanded her hard enough to spin her around and slam her to the floor. He’d used his open hand, which was the only reason she was still alive. He was a vampire. She’d have to remember that. His strength was several times that of a human. A casual slap could break her jaw. And that had been no casual slap. Her ears were still ringing, and she was having trouble seeing straight.

“Watch your mouth, whore, or I’ll put it to better use.”

Sid lay on the floor, blinking, trying to come up with the energy, the desire, to force herself upright, to confront this monster with whatever dignity she had left.

“Get up,” Pinto demanded.

Sid made the effort, but she’d been hit twice today, both times hard enough to have her seeing stars, and it was taking longer for her to recover. That her hands were still bound behind her back didn’t exactly make it any easier, either. She made a show of trying to drag herself off the floor and nearly made it before falling to her side, unable to catch herself with her hands tied.

“I like seeing you like this,” Pinto said, chuckling. “Rich bitch Sidonie Reid crawling on the floor.”

Sid felt the heavy weight of his booted foot against her side, digging into her ribs hard enough to hurt as he shoved her back and forth, almost idly.

“Where’s your daddy’s money now, bitch? It wasn’t my idea to let you live, you know. That was Klemens. Didn’t want to rattle the moneyed class. They’re willing to overlook almost anything as long as none of theirs gets hurt. He let me take that little whore friend of yours, though. What was her name . . .” His voice trailed off, as if he was trying to remember.

Sid knew he was playing with her, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want Janey’s name on this monster’s lips. “Janey,” she said, shocked at the raw sound of her own voice. “Her name was Janey, and you killed her.”

“Didn’t stop you, though, did it? You just kept coming and coming, and still Klemens wouldn’t let me kill you.”

She heard the squeak of leather as he rose from the chair, the scuff of his boots on the rough carpet, and then he was crouched right next to her, cruel eyes staring at her out of a face that was too handsome to be so evil.

“But Klemens is dead now, princess. And you’re all mine.”

Sid croaked a wordless protest, and he laughed.

“Tell you what. I’m going to do you a favor. You care so damn much about my slaves, you can fucking well join them. You’re a bit older than my usual merchandise, but that red hair’s worth something, and you’re white. That’s always a selling point. You’ll fetch a nice price.”

Sid saw the kick coming, but there was nothing she could do to stop his boot before it slammed into her ribs. She sucked in a shocked breath and knew he’d cracked a rib or two.

“You,” he said over her head. “Take care of her. You know what to do.”

“Get up,” her guard ordered. He grabbed one of her bound arms and pulled her to her feet.

Sid nearly screamed with the pain, but bit her tongue to stop the sound from escaping her mouth. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt her.

As the guard shuffled her from the room, Pinto spoke up from behind her. “Cut the ties on her hands before you lock the door. I don’t want to damage the merchandise any more than necessary, but make sure she stays put.”

The guard grunted an acknowledgment as he pulled a key ring from his pocket and unlocked one of the bedroom doors. Several women were already inside, and they looked up as the door opened, their faces wearing identical expressions of fear. Sid had enough time to register their presence before she was shoved hard, just managing to keep her face from slamming into the floor as she fell. The guard snorted a laugh as he knelt next to her, one heavy hand gripping her thigh, pinching it as if testing for tenderness. She tried to roll away from him, feeling something close to horror at the idea that he might rape her, knowing she’d fight with everything she had to stop him, and knowing it might not be enough. The guard grinned, as if her pitiful efforts amused him. Rolling her onto her stomach, he shoved her face into the rough carpet and held her there with a knee in the middle of her back. There was a tug on her bound wrists, and then, with a snap of released plastic, her hands were suddenly free.

Sid couldn’t stop a cry of misery as blood flowed back into her hands and fingers, as strained muscles struggled to return to their rightful configuration. She lay on her side, gasping for breath, her sore hands curled protectively against her chest, her entire body shrieking with pain. But despite it all, a surge of adrenaline whipped through her system, making her heart pound with triumph.

She had her gun. And her hands were finally free. Things were looking up.

BEFORE THE ELEVATOR doors opened onto the lobby, Aden smelled more blood. It was nowhere near the slaughter that had greeted him upstairs. This was one man. He knew that before he saw the police gathered around the doorman’s body in its dark blue blazer. Humans swarmed the scene, technicians gathering every bit of evidence they could find. It wouldn’t do them any good, Aden thought. Whichever vampire had set this in motion would see to it that no one survived to testify to the event.

“Mister Aden?” A human male wearing a suit that cost less than the shirt and tie Aden was wearing approached him warily. He met Aden’s eyes only briefly before quickly looking away. Many humans believed a vampire could only influence a mind if they met the person’s eyes. That might be true of a lesser vampire, one who needed the contact to reinforce his control. But it was definitely not true of one with Aden’s power and ability. He didn’t correct the detective, however. The mistaken belief served vampire interests well.

“I am Aden,” he acknowledged, scanning the scene. “How did he die?” he asked, although he already knew. He could smell the gunpowder.

The detective didn’t answer his question, but posed one of his own instead, intent on taking charge of the conversation. “Where were you between ten and noon this morning?”

Aden gave the man a patient look. “I am a vampire, Detective . . .”

“Trevisani,” the man supplied.

“Detective Trevisani. I assure you that I and my staff were quite incapable of rising from our beds when this was happening.” He could feel Bastien’s growing tension, his aggression simmering just under the surface, heightened by the blood here and upstairs, and by what he perceived as a threat to his Sire. He was a good lieutenant, disciplined and highly skilled. But having his Sire’s territory invaded while they’d slept unknowing only yards away, and now with this human policeman all but accusing Aden of the crime . . . it was enough to strain the mettle of the most restrained of vampires.