Destiny (5 page)

Warm breath teased my earlobe. “Hello, pet.”

I froze.
Fuck me.
Dixon.

He nipped my ear lobe with wicked sharp fangs. “Miss me?”

“No.” The cut stung. Blood trickled, warm and wet, down my neck.

“No? I’m hurt.” Jolts of icy power secured me to the tree trunk while Dixon’s skeletal hands roamed over my body.

“Back off, you undead wanker,” I snapped, refusing to surrender to my fears.

He chuckled. “I do so love it when you speak my language, my little kitten.”

The world spun when he flipped me around and lassoed me tighter to the trunk with his power, his lean, tall body caging mine. Head lowered, gaunt face too close, his silver eyes shone like moonlight. Mesmerizing, seductive moonlight.

Shit. He was trying to compel me. Very few vampires could do that, and they had to be old. Unfortunately, Dixon was as old as Stonehenge. Maybe older.

I lowered my gaze to his thin, blue-black lips. They curled up in a creepy smile under my inspection, crinkling the lightning bolt tattoo streaking across one hollow cheek. He circled one long fang with the tip of his tongue. “Come now, pet. No more words for your favorite admirer?”

Anger almost had me hurling insults at the bastard but I clenched my teeth.
You’re bat shit crazy, and I’m going to kill you if I can get my hands free.

He slipped a bony finger under my chin and tilted it upward, trapping my gaze again. I met his challenge for two whole seconds before pain closed my eyes. He’d likely dislocated my shoulder with his aerial stunt, and so far my vampire quick healing genes had failed to fix it.

“Oh dear, is my favorite toy broken?” He poked my shoulder hard, chuckling when I cried out.

“Bastard.” Moisture beaded on my forehead, and nausea knotted my stomach. I should puke on the smug jerk. That would teach him.

“Here, my pet, let me help.”

“Don’t touch—”

Pain clogged my throat as he reset my shoulder with surprising medical precision.

He slid his hand over my repaired shoulder and down to the curve of my waist. “There, all better now.” His hand inched lower and squeezed my ass.

“Back off, perv.”

“Hm. Still spicy I see. Very good.”

He leaned into me until his erection pressed against my belly. Inside my power paced like a caged tiger, roaring and swiping at the metaphorical bars Dixon had placed around her. God, how I wanted to grab his head and fry him, starting with his too-perfect, spiky platinum hair, then his tattooed face and on down until he was nothing but an ash statue standing in his studded leather boots.

My anger surged. I bucked against his hold, hating his gaunt body plastered to mine, his cigarettes and leather scent searing my nostrils, just…hating him
.

He trapped my arms above my head and rubbed his cheek against my forehead. “Yes, move like that, kitten. Right there.” He lapped at my bleeding ear. “Don’t stop now, my lush little pet.”

Bile burned my throat, making a bid for freedom. “Screw you.”

“Oh, yes. Quite soon in fact.”

Panic ripped my gut. “Never.”

“Forever,” he shot back. He put some space between our bodies. “But first, how is your father?”

Small talk? Really? Not happening.

“Ah, not speaking to the prince? Poor Maurizio. How is he taking his daughter’s silence? I am sure some poor minion is suffering terribly for your behavior.”

“Shut up.”
Not having this conversation with evil nemesis, not having this conversation…

Dixon slid his tongue along my neck in a slow glide sending shivers of revulsion down my spine. “And your brother? How does he fare? The one I turned. What was his name?” He snapped his fingers. “Ah, yes, Tony. Antonio Tranquilli, third eldest son of the Tranquilli bloodline, and second in line to the throne now that I made him vampire. Second in line after Prince Tranquilli’s blood daughter and my very own sexy kitten.”

I bared my still flat teeth at him and hissed.

“Yes, that’s it, luv. Purr for me. Show your true nature. You
are
vampire.”

“Half.”
And that half is going to rip out your throat and fry your ass the second you free my hands, you bastard.

“I could change that to whole. If you ask nicely.” He stroked my cheek. “Perhaps even if you don’t.”

“Put those fangs near me again and I’ll shatter them, you undead wanker.”

Dixon barked a laugh. “I’ve missed your fire. These past months were such a bore. I was quite delighted to discover you survived your brother’s attack. Newborn vampires can be quite voracious. Their prey never survives. Yet here you are.”

He wasn’t kidding.

Tony
had
almost killed me because I refused to fight him, letting him feed from me instead. But I survived. I was alive, and my brother was undead. Dixon’s fault.

“I hate you,” I spat out, then did what I should have done the second Stella and I ran into his trap. I called for help.

I had a psychic connection with the older vampires in my family. Unfortunately, Dixon, like many old vamps, possessed uber psychic abilities. I tried to be fast, but he was faster. He blocked my call, easy peasy.

“Jerk,” I grumbled, straining to hear sounds of the fight below us.

Nothing but silence. Had his minions killed Stella? I doubted it, but my insanely powerful bodyguard should’ve dispatched Dixon’s gang by now. Unless he had a witch or wizard complicating matters. Maybe the same one who booby-trapped the box of blood. Crap.

“Did you like my gift, pet?”

Mind reader. So unfair. “Threw it away,” I lied. “Poured the blood down the sink.”

His silver eyes flared and narrowed. “This is the last time you will ever lie to me, my pet.”

Fangs bared, he slit his wrist and shoved it against my mouth. I tried not to swallow. God, how I tried, but his other hand worked my throat, forcing me to choke it down.

His power streaked through me, planting roots. “Carina Tranquilli. By my blood, you are marked. Soon you will be mine. Only mine. But first, nine more nights of blood.”

He pulled back his wrist. His blood tasted of tobacco and Guinness—smoky, bitter, syrupy, and sour. Disgusting. I gagged. Cold fingers covered my mouth, and he held tight until my nausea subsided and his foul blood settled in my system.

“Good girl.” My sweaty forehead received an unwelcome kiss from him, making me shudder. “Now, about my gift that you have
not
destroyed.”

“Yet,” I snarled.

“Starting tomorrow tonight, you will drink one vial per night at precisely nine in the evening. On that last evening, you will come to me.”

That earned him a snort of derision. “As if.”

Instead of smacking me for my insolence, he withdrew his power. A prickling sensation flooded my numb fingers as I lowered my arms, but to hell with it. Numb fingers could form a fist. I let it fly, aiming a jab for the knockout spot on his ugly chin. Missed by a hair, due to his hyper speed, but I’d expected that move and clocked him with my other hand, jerking his head to the side.

Of course, the bastard recovered all too quickly and had the nerve to smirk at me. “One more thing, my feisty kitten.” His eyes gleamed with satisfaction, putting me even more on edge. “I have your friends.”

My mind raced through the handful of people he could mean. I knew the whereabouts of those closest to me. All safely ensconced in our warded homes or clubs. Except for—

Dread daggered my gut. “No.”

He couldn’t have them. They were at the witch compound up north, surrounded by major protective power.

“Oh yes. Faith and Kai. Have a look, luv.” He produced a cell from one zippered pocket of his leather biker jacket, jangling the chains hanging off the front.

A tap and a swipe, then he held it up. Kai, one of my closest friends and Faith’s soul mate, lay face-up and unconscious on a cement floor, one eye blackened and swollen under a thick gash on his forehead. Blood decorated his chin from a split lip and worse, two angry red holes marred his neck.

Dixon swiped his screen again. The next picture appeared.

A strangled whimper escaped my throat.
No. Not her. Please not her.

Faith sat on that same cement floor, legs crossed in lotus position, hands in her lap as if meditating. My best friend. My soul sister. Her big, brown eyes stared right at me, conveying a depth of knowledge only she, as a powerful psychic, could possess. Relief ran through me at the sight of her tawny skin, clean and unbroken, her stick-straight black hair neat and trim.

A lump lodged itself in my throat. This made no sense. Faith was supposed to be at the witch’s compound an hour north. She texted me. Her abduction didn’t make sense, unless
…

She had already returned to San Francisco, and that’s where Dixon grabbed her
.

The world spun as he pocketed his phone and grabbed my chin. “If you tell a soul, they die. If you do not partake of my blood every night, they die. If you try to find me before the nine days are up, they die. No turning for them, only true death.” He squeezed my jaw until I grunted in pain. “I may even film it. Put it up on the World Wide UnderWeb
.
Let you watch me torture them and drain them ever so slowly, all the while knowing you, my luscious little kitty, could have prevented this by simply drinking a few vials of blood. Nine o’clock sharp, by the way. Pacific Standard Time.”

Nine vials. Nine nights. Nine o’clock.
My body shook with helpless anger.
Damn you, Dixon. Damn you to hell.

“Kitty, I own hell.” He yanked me close and trailed his fangs along my neck, slicing me from shoulder to ear. “You bear my first mark now, pet. Soon I’ll own you.” He licked my neck.

The wet worm sensation of his tongue on my skin made me cringe. The images of Faith and Kai kept me compliant, even when he lifted my leg and settled it around his hip, even when he ground that gut-churning, ever-present erection against my mound.

“Drink or they die. Nod your pretty head if you understand me, pet.”

My head bobbed up and down as I nodded like a good little, trapped puppet. When he released me, I stumbled back against the trunk, sliding down its smooth surface until my butt hit solid tree branch. His studded biker boots filled my vision.

“They need food and water. Three times a day.”

His leathers creaked as he squatted in front of me, and patted my cheek. “Buck up, kitty. Do as I bid, and your friends will receive food and drink, once a night. Shortly after nine.” He straightened to tower over me, all smirking gloom and doom. “You do your part. I’ll do mine. See? Easy.”

I had no comeback this time. He’d won.

“Company is coming, pet.”

Stella landed on our tree limb, a seething, hissing mass of female rage, her slender body bathed in blood from head to toe.

Dixon beamed at her. “Hello, luv. Nice to see you. Pity I cannot stay. Be a doll and give your mistress, the eternally lovely Contessa, my regards, would you?” He leapt off the branch.

“Stay here,” Stella growled at me and dove after the bastard.

A fine tremor started in my hands and rumbled through my body as I huddled against the tree trunk, mind reeling. Dixon had marked me, staked a claim. Two more marks would put me in hell as his immortal sex slave. Because three marks seals the deal.

My own family had already marked me twice, though their marks didn’t indicate slavery but rather protection and support, a defense against shit like this happening. Yet somehow Dixon breezed right past their marks and made his own. I bet the damn booby-trapped box made me vulnerable to his attack.

Dixon is back. He has Faith and Kai. I’m marked, and he’s blackmailing me.
My heart thundered in my chest like a bouncing cement ball.

I can’t tell my family.

There are three things I try not to do—cry, keep secrets, and tell lies.

When Jonas landed in front of me and held out his hand, I did all three.

“Are you hurt, Little Warrior?”

Tears leaked from my eyes, and I wiped them away with the heel of my hand. “No.”
Hell, yes.

A gust of wind blew open the flaps of Jonas’s Chesterfield coat and made his long black hair whip around his head like dark, deadly snakes. He pulled me to standing. “Talk.”

I shook my head
.
Not going to talk or let him hear my thoughts. I erected a mental shield, a castle with a windowless stone tower, and shoved all that had transpired with Dixon inside it, locking it away from powerful, prying, vampire minds.

A pang of guilt stabbed me, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t be the reason my friends died. More tears spilled.

Jonas stared me down in silent demand.

Below us, several housekeeping staff in black jumpers cleaned up the mess Stella had made of Dixon’s minions. The whoop of a siren sounded. One of two things would happen now. If the cops knew about the preternatural community, they’d help with the cover up. If they didn’t, then cleaners would purge their minds and send them away.

Jonas slipped a hand around my waist and stepped us off the branch, whisking me straight into a limo driven by Primo, one of Thomas’s personal guard. Big, bad, and deadly. He caught my stare in the rearview mirror, grunted, then slid up the privacy screen. The car shot into traffic on Oak, made a rapid turn onto Masonic, and headed up the hill to my house.

Needing comfort, I leaned my head on Jonas’s shoulder. “I feel like a failure. What good is our training if I can’t use it when it counts? Dixon trashed me.”

Instead of the reassuring hug I craved, Jonas plopped a box of Kleenex on my lap. “Dixon is old.”

The scrape of tissue on cardboard grated on my nerves as I pulled out a tissue and mopped my face. “Tell me something I don’t know.”