Dani Harper - First Bite

He stared at the ceiling, where an antique map of the constellations had been painted, and tried to make sense of the situation. At least he wasn’t in Meredith’s room, thank the goddess. But a guard had called this “the guest room,” in a tone that implied it had all the hospitality of the Bates Motel.

The shackles and chains were gone, replaced by a red silken cord that didn’t look like it was tough enough to restrain a butterfly, never mind a full-grown Changeling. Yet despite its delicate appearance, it might as well have been steel cable from the Golden Gate Bridge. Try as he might, Travis couldn’t budge it in the slightest. Magic was obviously in play here. The strange scarlet cord was all one piece, looping back and forth under the bed so it could tie his feet and hands to carved wooden bedposts as thick as power poles.

One of the guards had tucked a pillow behind his head, not to be kind, but to be funny. “There,” he’d said. “You’re to be made comfortable while you’re waiting.”

“Yeah? Waiting for what?”

They’d all laughed then and left the room without answering his question. Bastards.

Magic or no magic, Travis set to work trying to loosen each one of his hands and feet in turn. Christ, if he could reach the cord with his human teeth, he’d chew the damn thing. But there was no stretch in the strange material, no give at all. The act of shape-shifting alone might have torn the cord to pieces…but some strange spell still divided him from his wolf. He hadn’t grown up hating magic, but he was sure hating it now. The way that Meredith used it, it was more like cheating. Stacking the deck in her favor. If there was any way of getting the crazed woman’s magic off the table, Travis would welcome a fair fight.

He’d heard once that evil had to be resisted, even if you couldn’t win. At the time he’d thought that was a pretty dumb saying, one guaranteed to get you killed. Right now, however, he was in the mood to resist plenty. Travis reassessed the situation. He couldn’t do a damn thing physically. His wolf was out of the picture. The cavalry wasn’t coming. All he had was whatever was in his head. Exhausted, he closed his eyes and thought of his grandfather. In his hands magic had been used to heal, to teach, to enhance and uplift. Make your thoughts quiet , said his grandfather. See. Hear. Feel. Travis saw the big quartz crystal again, plain as a chunk of glass and about as fascinating. Brows furrowing, he tried again to think of what his grandfather had said about it. Amplifies…it amplifies something or other…

A Latino woman in a white lab coat came in, her black hair braided back into a long tail that hung to her hips.

What the hell. He gave his best Goldfinger impersonation. “So, we meet again, Dr. Zarita.”

“Zarita Arandas ,” she corrected, apparently not noticing his lame attempt at humor. She rummaged in a red plastic tote and began assembling a syringe, rubber tubing, a number of empty rubber-stoppered vials, and more. “And what about your name, sir?”

“Trouble.”

“Ah, yes. Ms. Meredith said you were not very cooperative.” She wrapped the tubing around his upper arm and began tapping the vein inside his elbow. “I hope you will not give me any trouble today.” She was surprisingly gentle as she skillfully inserted a double-ended needle.

“I don’t seem to be in a position to give anyone much of a problem today.”

He watched as she filled vial after vial, and finally hooked up a tube to a vacuum-sealed bag. His blood dribbled into it as slowly and fitfully as fresh brew from a coffeemaker. “Hey, I need that stuff. Exactly how much do you plan on taking?”

“A little over a liter. Ms. Meredith has found it to be an excellent restorative.”

“I find it pretty damn restorative myself—what the hell is she doing, drinking it?”

“Of course. It will be chilled and waiting for her when she awakens.”

He stopped asking questions at that point. Of course someone who had mastered such dark magic would drink blood by the carton. Christ.

“Be sure to eat everything you are given, so you can replace what I’ve taken today and what I will be taking tomorrow,” the doctor said as she gathered her equipment. She paused before she left the room. “I’m sorry to tell you that it will likely be a daily procedure, Mr. Trouble.”

Every frickin’ day? He felt drained—literally—and dizzy. Weren’t you supposed to get goddamn cookies or something if you gave blood? He slid into a dreamless sleep.

As Neva walked, she loosened her hips and lengthened her step, seeking that fluid runway gait that was so characteristic of her twin. Meredith never, ever failed to make an entrance, even when she was simply crossing a room. She was always on. And she was always in charge. There was an air of absolute authority that clung to her, as palpable and intoxicating as her Clive Christian perfume. Neva approached the gate at full stride and didn’t slow down a bit. Nor did she say anything—Meredith certainly wouldn’t bother to speak to whoever was behind the security camera. At most, she’d give a very slight but regal wave of her hand, and that’s what Neva did. This is going to look really stupid if I walk face-first into the—

The gate parted before her immediately, with plenty of time to spare. Neva had to struggle to keep the surprise from appearing on her face. Instead she wore the patented Meredith mask—the look-at-me-I’m-beautiful blended seamlessly with the look-away-I’m-powerful. To anyone else, it would have been impossible to mimic such a one-of-a-kind expression, but Neva had witnessed it all of her life. She might not have the temperament for it, but nature had given her the same facial features as her twin. Neva now turned The Look on everyone, two-legged or four-legged, and they all responded the same way—with lowered eyes and utter deference. With her Changeling senses, she could smell the acrid tang of fear radiating from each and every one of them. No one dared speak to her; they just hurried to get out of the way. So this was what it was like to be Meredith? She probably loved it, but Neva was sickened.

Right now, though, she had no choice but to keep up the scary-bitch act. Baker played his role perfectly, walking at her left side and slightly behind her like a heeled dog. They’d decided to leave his bloody wounds as they were—it created the illusion that Meredith had either beaten or bitten him. He’d managed to appear afraid of her, too, even as he glared threateningly at everyone else. Maybe it was because he was experiencing as much déjà vu as she was. The first and last time she’d passed through the front gates, she’d been wholly human.

The front door was opened as rapidly as the gate had been, and she passed through without slackening her purposeful pace in the slightest. This could all come to an abrupt halt if Meredith happened to be anywhere on the ground floor, but unless her sister was going somewhere, Neva thought it unlikely. There was a grand foyer and an opulent reception area the size of a small department store on the first floor—but the rest was devoted to vast kitchens and staff accommodations. Like a cruise ship, the best rooms were all upstairs, and that’s where guests were entertained.

Which meant that any kind of prison would be in the opposite direction.

Neva bypassed the main glass elevator and headed confidently down the high-arched hallway. Three people and two wolves fled from the area at her approach.

Baker was clearly puzzled. We aren’t taking the stairs, are we? ’Cause I’m sure your sister wouldn’t do that.