She marshaled all her power, let her free hand shift under her, into the back of her trousers. She might… She gasped, hesitated, as Lilith sucked harder, suddenly, and she felt the awareness begin to drain from her.
No. I am Illa Gardella.
Victoria slipped her hand from beneath her, moving as though she were underwater, as quickly as she could but oh so slowly… to the duo of vis bullae beneath her torn shirt. She touched the holy silver, and felt a jolt of strength blast through her. She breathed deep, pushed away the scent of blood so close to her, the feel of lips on her skin, fought to sever the connection with those hot red eyes burning behind Lilith’s head.
That wasn’t Sebastian anymore. Not the Sebastian she knew.
Like Phillip.
Anger roared up from beneath the thrall, the sluggish red world, and galvanized her. Giving a great, last, harsh buck and twist, she managed to slip her hand beneath and under her hips, scrabbling for the stake behind there as Lilith forced her back into place. Her only chance… Had the demon spoken the truth?
Victoria’s fingers closed around the wood of the ash stake, made from a fresh branch on the mountain only a short time ago, and relief surged through her when she slipped it free of her waistband. The bark and point scraped against her skin, already raw from claw marks, as she forced it from beneath her prone, weighted body, sidling it under the edge of her hip.
It seemed to take forever for these little movements, and Victoria felt the strength draining from her as the blood coursed from her veins, straining for relief, for release.
Then Lilith stopped. She gave one last, gentle, sensual suck, then withdrew her fangs. Settling back, she looked down at Victoria, whose chest rose and fell as though she’d been running. She could barely focus. The red eyes lulled. The heat pressed down on her… She felt warmth trickling from her neck, leaking down, iron-scented, into the crease of her shoulder and seeping into the fabric beneath.
“There, now,” Lilith said in a husky voice, looking back at Sebastian. “See how I’ve prepared her for you. The fight is gone from her… Perhaps now you’ll not be so reluctant to feed. ”
He didn’t speak, but through the fog, Victoria saw the need… the deep lust and craving in his eyes. His nostrils flared wide, as though drawing in the scent of blood like a man draws in oxygen, and he was breathing just as harshly as she was. His lips, as full and sensual as they’d been when he wooed and coaxed her, parted.
No.
Sending up a last prayer, she drew in a deep breath and tore her eyes fully from Sebastian’s enthralling red ones. It was a physical break; she felt the ties loosen, but not completely disappear, as she pulled away. The incessant tug eased… The stake in her hand rose, flying up as if of its own volition. She saw it as if from underwater, from a distance: slow and foggy… the point slamming into the white skin in front of her.
Lilith jerked aside in time, and the stake pierced, not her heart… but the soft part above her collarbone, slamming in deep. Victoria cried out in frustration as the vampiress froze above her.
Froze, and was, indeed, still. Her eyes wide, shocked, her bloodless lips parted.
The green ash stake protruded from her skin, and Victoria had a last bit of consciousness left to yank it free, then drive it directly into the vampire queen’s heart.
Brushing away the last of the vampire ash, Max tucked the stake into his trousers and turned back to the door. Using a knife blade, he wedged it down under the metal to work the lock’s hasp free. He shoved and jimmied, and at last the groan of the brass came free. Working as fast as he could, he pulled the lock off and tore the door open.
The people poured out, more than a dozen of them, terrified and blank-eyed.
“This way,” Max said, trying not to think about what else was going on deep in the chambers of this mountain. She wears two, dammit. “Hurry. ”
But something pushed at him, nagged… Impatience screamed as he urged the captives out of their prison; many of them stumbled or were too dazed from shock to understand. As they streamed out of the room, a vampire made the mistake of coming around the corner, apparently running from some other threat. The undead found himself skewered on Max’s stake before he realized it.
“Is that everyone?” Max asked one of the men who seemed somewhat lucid.
“Yes,” the man managed. “But this one can’t walk. ”
Without another word, Max slung a tottering woman with glassy eyes up over his shoulder. “Here,” he said, fumbling for the cross around his neck. With a good yank, he broke the heavy chain and handed it to the man. “Hold this in front of you if you see any of them. ”
He gave another woman a vial of holy water, and yet another vial to a second man. The back of his neck chilled, shifting, portending the approach of more undead. The would-be victims had moved out into the corridor, and he heard shrieks and screams as he came around the corner.
The prison behind him, a deadweight woman on his shoulder, Max found himself back in the melee again.
Stake in hand, he pushed through the terrified mob, which had been stopped by three large vampires blocking the corridor. Damn and blast.
“Throw the water!” he shouted as the crowd surged back, away from the vampires. He pushed forward, they stampeded back, and he felt the woman over his shoulder begin to awaken and fight his hold. The vampires lunged toward the group, fangs out, eyes burning, and the prisoners fell back, into Max, and he nearly lost his balance.
Bloody damn hell. Idiots.
“Let me through,” he bellowed, but no one heard him over the panic.
He couldn’t put the woman down, or she’d be trampled in a moment, but she severely limited his movements. And now she was fighting him, like a crazed cat, pummeling his back already sore from claws and talons.