As planned, all fourteen of the brethren materialized en masse in the large, decadent room Isabelle gathered her minions in for playing with their victims. What wasn’t planned was stepping into an orgy of sex and depravity, the sight of over thirty, newly turned rogues indulging in every obscene act known to man. Their behavior, nothing more than animals with gluttonous cravings as they fucked with one or more rogues or raped and tortured a barely alive innocent victim, disgusted every one of the brethren who have fought long and hard over the centuries against their own predatory natures. The walls and floor glistened with the carnality of freshly spilled blood, the coppery smell of it permeating the air along with the low, guttural sounds of sex and suffering.
Damien’s hot fury was cold and chilling as he stood momentarily stunned by the tableau before him, his gaze black chips of ice. A quick glance told him Isabelle wasn’t in the room. Shoving aside his disgust as well as his empathy for the victims, he snapped out, “Move fast while we can take them by surprise.”
Damien led the assault by grabbing a rutting man off his partner, lifting him easily with one hand on his nape, plunging his dagger into his heart as he dangled in surprise and outrage. The rogue’s female partner sprang at him in fury, her fangs aiming for his forearm, but Damien was faster. Heeding his own advice, he gave no regard for her gender as he turned her to dust with one well-aimed plunge before moving on.
Years of defending the innocent against all dregs of inhumanity had them all following Damien’s lead and moving fast to converge on the still unsuspecting, practically feral beings. Their recent coupling and feeding with their mates gave them the strength they needed to take on the rogues two and three at a time, gave them the power they required to move fast, deflecting blows while thrusting their blades into the heart of another with the pinpoint accuracy needed to send them into a pile of ash. Within moments of their surprise attack, the rogues were coming out of their sexual, blood driven stupor to start retaliating with a vengeance born out of fury and fear. Snapping and clawing, their fangs dripping blood and saliva, their eyes glowing with pure malice, they fought like the crazed, evil beings they were.
Damien fought three rogues simultaneously, sending one flying across the room with a backward kick to his chest to land against the stone wall with a bone breaking thud. With a swift, viscious twist, he snapped the neck of another, but the third managed to draw blood, sinking his fangs into his shoulder before he flipped him over his head and gained the upper hand. Scanning the melee, he saw Jacob take a knife swipe across his forearm, but the minor wound didn’t slow him down or hinder his aim as he took out his assailant, his face tight with fury. The twins had each other’s back, and, despite a few gashes, were easily mowing down their opponents. A look of chagrin passed over Gideon’s sweat and blood streaked face as he smote a female rogue. Damien didn’t fault him for showing sympathy for the wasted young life since Gideon didn’t let the emotion hinder his purpose.
The sounds of battle resonated in the rock walled, cavernous room, growls of frustration and cries of startlement and pain became deafening as the brethren cut a swath through the mass of inhumanity now viciously returning their attack. The rogues were quick, desperate and without conscience as they fought desperately to hold onto the new, wonderfully addictive life of depravity their mistress had recently gifted them with, but all their efforts soon proved futile against the sheer force of the men who attacked them, ending their fun.
Damien glanced with compassion at the young girl who had the misfortune to still be breathing when he pulled her attacker off of her, killing him swiftly. Kneeling in the blood pooling around her from her torn throat, he whispered achingly, “I’m sorry.” Closing her eyes with his hand, he mercifully ended her suffering before rising and checking the rest of the rogue’s victims as his brethren finished the battle. Thankfully, they had already passed on, sparing him the agony of adding their deaths to his conscience.
Less than fifteen minutes had passed since they raided the room and all that remained were the corpses of innocent victims and piles of ash. Damien did a quick assessment of his friends, noting each bore numerous injuries, but none of them life-threatening.
“Where is the psychotic bitch?” Jacob snarled, blood dripping down his forearm, his hand clenched tightly around his blade which also dripped crimson.
“This place is her sanctuary,” Damien told them as he worried about Isabelle being a no-show. “She only leaves to seek out replacements, preferring to send out her pets to do her bidding. We search together. She’s too strong and powerful for any of us to defeat her single handedly.”
“I don’t know about that,” Luc ground out as he looked around at the bodies of the tortured victims. Most of them had been young, with their whole life in front of them, and he couldn’t help but recall how Caitlin, as well as several of the other mates, had been targeted to meet the same end just days ago. “The way I’m feeling right now, I could rip her apart slowly, limb by limb, and not bat an eye.”
“We all want a piece of her, so let’s find her,” Jon added.
Receiving nods from the rest of them, Damien stated, “Then let’s end this.”
Isabelle had been about to join her new pets when the distinct sounds of an attack sent her speeding through her mountainside lair to appear at the entrance of the playroom within seconds. A crimson haze surrounded her vision, black rage bubbling in her blood at the sight that greeted her. Her face taut with fury, she watched the entire troop of brethren mowing down her new recruits. She had waited too long, grown too confident that Damien wouldn’t come after her on her home turf. Her plan had been to let her minions feast in style before sending them after Damien, the brethren and their mates, hopefully putting a huge, devastating dent in their numbers. The newly turned were their most deadly in the beginning, their most powerful right after indulging in unlimited sex and bloodletting and ingesting. She spent the past few days raiding the streets of Europe’s most derelict neighborhoods, those areas known to harbor the worst criminals of society, humans with only one purpose in life, their own self-gratification. Perfect victims to turn into mindless puppets, too greedy for all the pleasures she had to offer them without consequences to question their good fortune or her orders.
It only took a few moments to see that, despite being out numbered two and three to one, her rogues were no match for the elite hunters, even with their recently hyped up senses and strength from the orgy of sex and killing. From the looks of fury and determination on the brethren’s faces, she knew they wouldn’t stop until every one of her pets was vanquished.
Shaking with uncontrollable rage at being thwarted in her plans, she dissolved into mist and swept through the dark sky like a wraith, intending to hurt Damien and his do-good followers where it cou
nted the most. She had not returned to North America since rising after her century of in-ground healing from Damien and Jacob’s last attack, preferring the solitude of her home for her indulgences, but she had no problem breaking out of her comfort zone for revenge.
Abby shivered with a strange sense of foreboding as she opened the double French doors to let in the sultry night air. Gazing up at the star studded, inky night that was Damien’s world, she prayed again for his, and all of the brethren’s safe return. They had all dressed after their mates left then killed some time and worry by raiding the kitchen. But anxiety couldn’t be appeased with food and had soon returned them to the converted ballroom. Now Abby felt the walls closing in on her, the stress of waiting and fretting making her edgy. All of the vamps had left looking fiercely determined, their gazes on their loved ones confident and promising, all except Damien. His look held a hint of painful resignation, as if he knew the outcome of tonight’s raid and, for him, it wasn’t going to be good.
“You feel it too?” Caitlin asked Abby when she joined her at the door.
“Yes. What do you think it means?” If Caitlin’s sixth sense was kicking in, then Abby knew she was right to be concerned.
Caitlin tried to act nonchalant, her shrug easy as she replied, “Could just be because they’re facing a dangerous situation, not that they can’t handle it.”
“Which they can,” Ava put in. “Our guys are ten times stronger, ten times more powerful and have a damn good reason to return safely tonight.”
“Yeah. What better reason could they have for staying safe than coming back to us?” Kim’s look was as fierce as her tone, defying anyone to argue with her. “Noah has never broken a promise to me and he’s not about to start now.”
The rest of the women all agreed with a certainty that appeased Abby somewhat. Grace was the only one who wasn’t putting in her two cents worth. She just stood quietly looking out the window, the longing on her face poignant and descriptive of how they all felt.
“Did I tell you guys about the time Ryan nailed me at a carnival?” Susan announced as she stepped outside, fully expecting the others to follow.
“I think we missed that one.” Emma was still a newlywed, just like Abby, Grace and Caitlin, and was still getting used to Beau’s penchant to have sex with her wherever they happened to be. Thank God he wasn’t into exhibitionism as much as Susan or they’d all be in jail.
As intended, Susan had them laughing in minutes with her exploits. Sprawled on patio chairs or on the grass, they traded stories of close calls and improbable scenarios, trying to outdo each other, their laughter turning to hysterics over some of the embellishments. Their joviality was brought to a jarring halt when a lone figure emerged out of thin air. Jumping to their feet, they stood transfixed, staring in horror and trepidation at the stunningly beautiful woman standing before them, her look of pure, unadulterated rage making them all take a step back. All except Caitlin.
“Well, well,” Caitlin drawled despite the terror clawing at her insides. If ever there was a poster person for evil, this woman would be it. “You must be the plague of our existence, Isabelle.”
“Caitlin,” Grace hissed next to her, wondering what on earth she was thinking to bait this woman.
In the blink of an eye, Isabelle moved from the other side of the pool to appear in front of Caitlin. Grabbing her hair, she wrenched her head back, hissing, “Whose mate are you?”