Dead Sexy

And then she felt his body shift.

She made one last effort to escape, shrieked when his hand closed around her ankle, dragging her backward across the rough terrain.

Effortlessly, he flipped her over, then straddled her hips, his hands pinning her arms above her head.

"Did you really think you could escape me?" he asked.

She stared up at him, refusing to answer, refusing to give him the satisfaction of begging for mercy. She knew it would only amuse him.

"Go on," she said, "kill me and get it over with."

"Kill you?" He laughed in her face. It was a dark, ugly sound. "I'm not going to kill you. Don't you know it's against pack law to kill a member of the pack? And you, my dear, are a member of my pack now. I made you, and I'm sworn to protect you. And protect you I will."

"What are you going to do with me?"

He cupped her chin in his palm and gave it a painful squeeze. "Do with you? You're going to take Marishka's place at my side." He laughed that ugly laugh again. "I'm going to make you my queen."

Regan stared at him. His queen? She would rather be dead. Screaming, "No, no!" she began to struggle against him again.

"Yes," he said, his voice and his gaze as hard as iron. "Tomorrow night, when the moon rises, you will become my bride."

Chapter 34

Santiago hated flying. He wasn't sure why—perhaps because he wasn't in control of the aircraft, or perhaps because a plane crash usually involved flaming wreckage, and fire was one of the few things he feared and respected.

But he would have walked through the fires of hell itself to find Regan. He drummed his fingers on the armrest, willing the plane to go faster, hating the hours and the miles that separated him from his bride. She had been at Vasile's mercy since yesterday. The very thought filled him with an ever-increasing sense of dread. What sort of revenge would the werewolf exact from her? Would he kill her quickly, or torment her? There were so many ways to inflict pain on both body and soul, and Vasile knew them all.

Regan. He could no longer envision a world, or the rest of his existence, without her in it. He had become accustomed to having her around. He loved her laugh, lived for her smile, hungered for the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, the sweet taste of her lips. Regan. She would be his bride now but for Vasile's unending hatred and his perpetual need for vengeance…

Santiago swore under his breath. What right did he have to condemn Vasile when he, himself, had once been guilty of the same relentless need for revenge? But his eternal longing for revenge had been snuffed out in his love for Regan.

He clung to the faint hope that she was still alive, certain that he would know if she wasn't.

"Hang on, Regan," he murmured. "I will find you."

Wracked with fear for her safety, he began to pace the plane's narrow aisle, his hunger growing with his agitation.

Would this flight never end!

There was less than an hour to sunrise when the plane landed. Santiago opened the emergency door and leaped out of the plane before it had stopped on the runway.

He found shelter in the cool earth beneath a stand of timber moments before the sun's light brightened the horizon.

Chapter 35

Regan paced the small, dark confines of the room where Vasile had imprisoned her.

His bride. She was going to be his bride at the moon's rising. The very thought made her sick to her stomach.

Yet even as she swallowed the nausea rising in her throat, some cruel imp inside her mind kept repeating, "There can only be happiness when like marries like." As if she could ever be happy with a monster like Vasile. She had seen his handiwork. She knew what cruelty he was capable of.

She was going to be Vasile's wife, and if that wasn't bad enough, she wouldn't even be his first wife. The woman she had seen in the bedroom earlier had been waiting for Vasile when he returned with Regan in tow. The woman, whose name was Zina, was not at all happy with Regan's presence, or with the fact that Vasile intended to marry her that night. Zina had poured out her anger and jealousy in the most vitriolic and spiteful tirade Regan had ever heard.

Vasile had listened for a short time and then he'd struck the woman across the face, bloodying her nose and mouth. Zina had made no attempt to wipe the blood away. She had glared at Vasile, her eyes narrowed with hatred, and then, shoulders back, she had turned and walked away.

Regan blew out a sigh. Her prison had no windows and she had no idea how long she had been locked up, or if it was day or night.

She blinked back the tears she had been holding and then, sinking down on the floor, she gave in to the misery that engulfed her.

But for Vasile, she would be Joaquin's bride now. Instead, she was going to become Vasile's wife. Strange, that Joaquin no longer seemed like a monster, while Vasile had become the master of evil. But then, Joaquin had a tender side that she doubted Vasile had ever possessed.

She would never see Joaquin again, never hear his voice, feel his arms around her, or taste his kisses. That thought made her tears fall harder and faster. Why was life so unfair? She had finally found a man to love, and it turned out that he was a vampire. And now, when she was ready to give herself to him heart and soul, Fate had stepped in again, snatched her away on the eve of her wedding, and brought her here. Oh, it just wasn't fair!

Rising, she went to the door and turned the knob. It was locked, of course. She had known that. Nevertheless, she twisted the knob back and forth, over and over again, and when that failed, she slammed her shoulder against the door, tears of frustration washing down her cheeks when it refused to give. There was no way out. No way out… no way out. She was doomed to be Vasile's bride. Fear congealed in her belly as a new, horrible thought occurred to her. Oh, lord, would he come to her as a man or a werewolf on their wedding night?

She froze when she heard the snick of the lock being turned. The door opened with a frightful creak, and Vasile stood in the doorway, haloed by the sun's fading light.

When she tried to dart past him, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her body up against his. When she struggled, he wrenched her arm behind her back and gave it a painful twist.

"Stop fighting me," he said with a growl. "You will be mine tonight." Eyes glittering, he cupped the back of her head with his free hand and kissed her. His kiss was hard and cruel, a brutal branding, a threat of what was to come. She gagged when he forced his tongue into her mouth, and then she bit down. Bile rose in the back of her throat when she tasted his blood.

Muttering an oath, he jerked his mouth from hers, then dragged her across the compound to his house. He shoved her inside, slammed the door behind him, and pushed her up against a wall, his body imprisoning hers.