Blood Wolf (Vintage Collection)

Suzanne clamped her legs together as Damian continued to struggle.

“She looks mighty sweet.” Markus turned to Suzanne and trailed his fingers down her face and neck. “I’d like to taste every drop of juice your succulent body has to offer. And I’ll start with your blood.” He opened his mouth.

Suzanne watched in horror as fangs elongated and dripped with saliva.

Damian growled and pulled one of his shackles loose.

“Temper, temper,” another voice said.

Markus retreated before grazing Suzanne’s neck. The other man, Samael, had entered the room. Samael replaced the shackle that Damian had loosened. How? Sleight of hand? He had barely moved.

“We seem to have found our comrade’s Achilles’ heel, lad.” Samael licked his lips, his pink tongue slithering like a serpent. “Unfortunately, he gets stronger the more you taunt him with her.”

Suzanne fought the bile rising in her throat. Samael’s features were chiseled and fine. But for the cloud of evil surrounding him, he would be beautiful. The stark contrast terrified her.

Suzanne’s knees buckled, but Markus steadied her. “No swooning, lass. The whoreson’s not worth it.”

Suzanne struggled until Samael pushed Markus aside and landed a punch square on her right jaw. She cried out, but her voice was muffled by the gag. The dull thud of the punch cracked through her skin into her bone. Her teeth actually rattled.

The clank of Damian’s chains echoed. From across the room, she saw his eyes swirl in anger. He broke another chain, which Samael swiftly remedied with a flick of his wrist.

Suzanne blinked.

Had Samael secured the chain without so much as a move?

Her heart pulsated under her breasts.

Darkness. She wanted to close her eyes and succumb to darkness. But air. She needed air. It was so hard to get enough into her lungs.

Hyperventilating.

She panted, trying to draw in the sweet oxygen her body craved. But it wasn’t enough.

The blackness took her.

Her brain swam as she awoke, Markus shaking her violently, holding a paper bag to her face. Suzanne’s mind was muddled, cloudy. “Lass, come on. I need you awake.” He pushed her toward Damian until their noses nearly touched.

“Your fella hasn’t been honest with you, lass,” he said. “He hasn’t told you what he really is.”

Suzanne uttered a muffled response, pleading to Damian with her eyes. A lone tear fell from one of his hazel eyes. She had never seen a man cry before. And this one, this big, strong, amazing one, cried for her. His words filled her mind.

I’m sorry, mo leannan.

She shook her head slowly. She wanted him to know that she was sorry, that she didn’t blame him, that she should have listened to him. That she’d never leave him again. But she couldn’t reach him.

“Do you know he’s a beast, lass?” Markus whispered in her ear. “A blood wolf. With a bite that can kill you without even breaking the skin?”

Suzanne shook her head. Her tummy tumbled. No! No! Markus was nuts.

“I can make him change for you,” Markus said. “All it would take is for me to sink my teeth in that lovely white neck of yours.”

Damian broke the chains around his arms again and reached for Suzanne, but Samael was faster. Within seconds, Damian was shackled again.

“His strength, you see. It isn’t normal, is it?”

Suzanne’s eyes widened. He did have amazing strength.

“And if taking your blood doesn’t force the change, taking your pretty body sure would.” Markus ripped Suzanne’s blouse open and exposed her lacy beige bra.

Damian freed himself once more, only to be re-shackled by Samael’s magic. His low growl resonated throughout the room, like a buzz not quite audible. Suzanne felt, more than heard it.

“Don’t forget the reason we’re here, lad,” Samael said, his voice like smooth Scotch whiskey, hypnotic. “Not to rape the wench.”

Damian’s chains slackened.

“Then again,” Samael continued, “she’s a tasty-looking thing, is she not?”

Markus nodded, his fangs elongating. The contents of Suzanne’s stomach churned violently.

“Aye, Da, that she is.”

“’Twould be a shame not to take what’s been so handsomely provided for us.”

“Aye.” Markus’s green eyes darkened, and the black ring around his irises reddened.

“Take her, then, my son,” Samael said. “But save a little for me.”

Markus needed no further prodding. He disposed of Suzanne’s shirt and plunged his sweaty hands into her jeans. She fought, but she couldn’t scream. Behind her, she heard Damian struggle against the chains, but Samael’s magic held him off.

Then, blessed blackness once again.

43

Time seemed not to exist. Suzanne found herself back in the darkness of the room. No one came for her, but an old-fashioned chamber pot had been provided in the corner. Several times, she awoke to find meals on a tray. She would eat, relieve herself, and then sleep again.

Fear gnawed inside her, more for Damian than for herself. For all of Markus’s and Samael’s threats, they hadn’t yet fed from her or raped her, near as she could tell. Her bra was intact and still covered her breasts. Her lower body was still clothed, and she felt no discomfort between her legs or anywhere else.