D. Reynolds - Aden

“Hamilton,” Aden said in surprise.

“My lord,” the human said, dipping his head respectively. “I heard . . . forgive me, my lord, but I heard Ms. Reid had been kidnapped. Is this true?”

“Unfortunately,” Aden confirmed grimly.

The man’s face was a study in regret. “I must tender my resignation, my lord. I failed you, and Ms. Reid paid the price.”

Aden rested his hands on his hips and studied the human. He understood the man’s dismay, but didn’t see how resigning helped anyone.

“I don’t accept that,” he said finally. “I need you now more than ever. And if you insist on feeling responsible, then Sidonie needs you, too. As for whether or not you failed me, you offered your life in the defense of me and mine. Some of your men gave their lives in that defense. I would be a foolish lord indeed if I rewarded such loyalty by firing you.”

Tears shone in Hamilton’s eyes when he spoke next. “Thank you, my lord. I am honored to serve you in whatever way I can.”

“Then help me find her.”

“I will. We’ve had people out scouring the streets, listening to gossip mostly. And the phones have finally started ringing. Everyone knows we’re looking, and we’ve offered a reward.”

“Good idea. Double it for information leading to her rescue, and triple if they give us the exact location.”

“Yes, my lord.” Hamilton nodded respectfully and headed for the elevator, as Aden’s four vampires made their way down the hall toward him.

“Travis,” Aden called without turning, “the vampire who found Sidonie snooping around that slave house the first time, what was his name?”

“Elias, my lord,” Travis supplied as he came even with Aden.

“Right. Call him. If it wasn’t Silas, then someone associated with the slave network is the most likely culprit. Sidonie caused a lot of trouble there and cut off a nice flow of cash.”

“And she insisted we’d missed the top vampire in the operation, too.”

Aden nodded. “Carl Pinto,” he confirmed, the knowledge like a light going on in his brain. “Find him.”

The phone rang, and Bastien crossed to the desk to answer it. He spoke briefly, then held the phone out to Travis. “Speak of the devil.”

Travis shared a quick look with Aden and took the phone from Bastien. “Elias?”

“Rumor has it your boss is the new lord.” Aden could hear both halves of the conversation with ease.

“Rumor travels fast,” Travis said. “I’m barely awake.”

“Even faster than you think. I heard that particular bit of news in the last hour before the sun rose this morning. Is it true?”

“Looks like.”

“In that case, I’ve another tidbit for you.”

“I’m listening.”

“You know that item I returned to you before?”

Travis lifted his gaze to meet Aden’s. “Yeah?”

“Not everyone was happy with Lord Aden’s interference in their business.”

“Is that what the cool kids are calling slaves these days?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Trav. You know—” Elias didn’t get any further, because Aden yanked the phone from Travis.

“Enough bullshit,” he demanded. “Where is she?”

“My lord,” Elias breathed, and Aden could hear both shock and fear in those two words. This was what it was like to be a vampire lord. Only a day ago, he’d been Aden, just another powerful vampire. Now he was Lord Aden, with the power to reach out and stop a vampire’s heart from beating.

“Talk,” Aden ordered.

“Carl Pinto, my lord. He was Klemens’s man at the head of the slave ring. Drugs, too, but he really liked the idea of owning those women.”

“Where?” Aden’s jaw was clenched so tightly, he had trouble forcing out the single word. If Pinto had touched Sidonie, he was going to die. Actually, he was going to die either way, but if he’d dared to harm her, his death was going to be slow and excruciating.

“I can give you the address, my lord, but it would be easier to show you.”

“Fine.” Aden handed the phone over to Travis. “Set up a meet. We leave in five minutes.”

SID REGAINED awareness slowly, feeling sluggish and tired, fighting her brain’s insistence that she wake up. She wanted to go back to sleep, and there was no reason she couldn’t. She was a freelance reporter. It wasn’t as if she had a set schedule, and if she’d had an appointment, her phone would have dinged by now. Smiling, she rolled over, jerking in pain when something dug into her hip bone, something hard and… Her eyes popped open as she remembered where she was. What the thing digging into her hip was.

She sat up too fast, making her head spin dizzily as she eyed the other women in the room, her fellow captives. Except that they obviously didn’t view her as a fellow anything. There was very little light, only a bare, yellowed bulb overhead, but enough for her to count seven other women huddled as far away from her as the small room and their chains would permit. Distrust of her was plain on their faces, layered on top of a weary sort of horror at their predicament.

Pushing her hair away from her face, Sid scooted back until she could lean against the wall, easing her muscles after what felt like several hours spent lying twisted on the gritty wooden floor. She closed her eyes and tried to remember, to piece together the events that had led to her waking in this filthy room. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but her body told her that hours had passed. The window was barred on the inside and boarded over outside, but she could see enough to know it was nighttime, and she doubted it was the same night as when she’d been kidnapped.

She remembered talking to the vampire, Carl Pinto, remembered his human henchman shoving her into this room and cutting her hands free. She’d felt excitement, because finally she’d be able to reach her gun. And then . . . nothing until she’d woken up just now. But something was wrong, something more than the obvious, because she shouldn’t have been able to sleep at all. She should have been wide awake and terrified. Those bastards must have drugged her again, but how? She hadn’t eaten or drunk anything. In fact, she was as thirsty as if she’d just run a few miles on a hot day without water. The thought had her looking around idly for water and not finding any. Not a surprise.

She pressed her back against the wall, then reached down and began to work the muscles of her legs, which were sore and aching from being crammed into the trunk for so long, then sleeping on the floor. Bending first one leg, then the other, she brought each knee to her chest and back down several times, massaging her calves, her thighs . . . She frowned, running her fingers over her right thigh. It was more than sore. It was tender, with a hard knot that was so feverish she could feel it through the heavy denim of her jeans. Under other circumstances, she wouldn’t have thought much about it. She bruised easily and badly, and she frequently had no memory of what caused any particular mark. But this was more than a bruise. This was more like when she’d gotten vaccinations before going to South America that time, and she’d had a negative reaction to…

Shit. The guard hadn’t been pinching her thigh last night. Or, rather he had, but he hadn’t been sizing her up for rape, he’d given her a shot of some drug. She’d been so relieved when he’d cut her hands free, but he’d only done it because he knew she’d be out. Jesus, what had he given her? What if it was something addictive? What if the needle hadn’t been clean?

She forestalled a full-blown panic attack by reminding herself that she had a much bigger and more immediate problem. She was being held prisoner by a vampire who wanted her dead, whose most optimistic plan called for her to be sold into slavery. A drug addiction she could deal with, a disease she could fight. Later. When she was free.