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.Iron would weaken her.Stupid werewolves.“Let me out! What the hell is going on?”She pounded the door until her fists ached.Pressing her forehead to the dented metal, she huffed.Heartbeats pounded faster than a heavy metal guitar solo.Nasty-smelling wolf blood coated her fingertips.This was not happening.She would not allow a bunch of werewolves to harm her.Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought against releasing a mournful cry.She was tougher than that.Besides, crying would get her nowhere.A clink disturbed the air behind her.Bree swung about, slapping her palms against the door behind her.“Who’s there?”The metallic noise had sounded distinctly like chains.Now they clattered as if being pulled through a heavy ring.A deep male groan accompanied the commotion.Impossible to press her shoulders any tighter to the door.She couldn’t see who or what was chained, but sensed it was male by the baritone groan.Did her captors think to feed her to a hungry wolf? Made little sense.For the most part, wolves got along with her kind.Werewolves didn’t eat faeries, nor did they drink their blood—though they were partial to fresh rabbit.Another growl rumbled from the man’s throat.She didn’t know what was chained perhaps twenty feet from her.He wasn't human, for she perceived his distinctive aura of something other.Humans did not give out such peculiar vibes.Her sensory perception bounced off the walls, determining the room was small, perhaps the size of the huge kitchen in her St.Paul loft.The air was stifling, and the smell—For the love of Herne, now that her anxiety had begun to settle the scent crept into her nostrils unbidden.Blood, and lots of it.Neither fresh, nor stale.She wiped her fingers over her dress, but there was little werewolf blood.She wanted to sneeze from the acrid pinch the odor delivered her sinuses.And punctuating that odor, a salty male scent she recognized as exertion, perspiration—and heightened arousal.Overhead, an electronic buzz preceded a blinding flash.Ultraviolet lights whitened the room painfully.Bree squinted, but didn’t take her eyes from the creature before her.He strained against the chains, using his shoulders, as his wrists were bound before him by manacles.Tight, rock hard muscles pulsed his abs as he struggled to get closer to her.Jaw tense and neck thick with strain, he groaned, sweat dribbling along his limbs.His eyes were bloodshot.His mouth was open, stretched wide to reveal—“Fangs.Oh hell.” Bree’s leg muscles gave out.Her body slumped against the door.“A vampire.”She didn't fear vampires.And she had a habit of getting along with most in the paranormal nations because she believed in treating others the way she wished to be treated in return.But seeing the man's fangs now clued her to where she'd been taken.Some werewolf packs practiced the macabre sport of pitting blood-starved vampires against one another.For weeks, they kept their unfortunate charges chained under UV lights, which rendered them sick and weak.Later, when put into a cage with another vampire, the opponents fought to the death, desperate for the healing blood.This vampire didn’t look weak.But he didn’t look eager for a friendly chat, either.Why had they brought her here?Another growl and he gnashed his teeth.The chained vampire rasped, “Hungry.”“This must be some kind of sick joke.”Bree slid along the wall, palms flat against the cool cinder blocks.The position anchored her, and, for the moment, enhanced a feeling of safety.But it was a false feeling, not a tangible guarantee.The chained vampire could get to her if he tugged those bolts from the steel plates secured to the floor.“Come to me,” he growled.The vampire lowered his head, yet looked up at her.Eyes dark as hell entreated, but instead of making her feel warm and sensual, a shiver traced Bree’s neck.A shiver of…recognition?Her heart stopped for so long she noticed it.Bree slapped a palm over her chest.Then her pulse started rampaging.Something in the vampire's gaze…"Can't be.No.No way."Her mother had told her that some day she would find her Intended, the one man meant for her, and that her heart would recognize him before she did.She'd given up on ever finding that man in Faery and had left for the mortal realm years ago, only to be further disappointed by the male offerings this realm put forth."No.Not a vampire.That would be so wrong."But her heart stuttered.It spoke to her in a whisper, He is yours.A vampire, her Intended? A ridiculous match to comprehend.A vampire bite wasn’t awful.She’d been bitten once.Never saw the creep again.So much for one night stands.But faeries and vampires did not mix for one reason—her ichor would prove addictive to the vampire.And if this guy didn’t know what she was, she didn’t want to be the one to spring on him that his snack could do more nasty to him than another UV sickened vampire could.Nor must she tell him she suspected he was her Intended.She had to be wrong.What she saw in his eyes was hunger.So why did your heart stop beating? And why are your shoulders tingling right now? As if preparing to unloose her wings.Bree rubbed her shoulder against the wall, attempting to distract the tingle with a new sensation.The wolves must have put her here to further torment the poor creature with the possibility of a wicked addiction.“Chill.” She held out a hand before her to placate.The vampire snarled, revealing bold white fangs.“Listen, buddy, you don’t think that razor charm is going to win you a bite, do you?”The chains clanked.The manacles about his wrists were medieval, thick enough to contain him.But, oh, his wrists bled.He’d been straining at the cuffs too long.Bree bit her lip.She would not succumb to the frustrating inner desire to protect and make better.But a homeless man nestled in an alleyway or a woman standing by a car with a flat tire? She was all over the situation.And what if he really was her Intended? She couldn't allow him to suffer.“So…hungry.” His voice was hoarse.He must have been here a while.It took weeks for a vampire to crave blood, to starve from it.But if the wolves kept him under UV lights, that sped the process.“Please.”“What’s your name?”Keeping one eye on the vampire, Bree stretched her gaze along the ceiling.In the far corner a green LED blinked.They were watching.“Listen, buddy, how long have you been in here? If you give me a name, I’ll tell you mine.”Yeah, make nice.Food wasn’t as appealing if you knew its name, right?“Too long.” He swung about and lunged against the wall.Bloody palms slapped the cinder blocks, leaving smeared tracks.He beat the ungiving surface and pounded his shoulder against it.“Stop it!" She couldn’t bear to watch him hurt himself.Maybe he’d settle if she talked to him.And hopefully a chat would distract her from the pining ache between her shoulder blades."Listen to me.”Like she expected to cure him of horrible torture through talk? Oh, Bree.“My name’s Sabrina.Bree.Those bastards kidnapped me and tossed me in here.Yeah, you guys.” She flipped the camera the bird.“They must be waiting for a show.Which, they won’t get.I work for real solid cash,” she commented again to the camera.“No freebie here, boys.”Oh, Sabrina, don’t make them angry.For all she knew there was a release button for the chains.If she pissed off the wrong werewolf, they’d set the longtooth free to devour her.Could he recognize what she was to him? No, the sidhe were able to recognize their Intended, but it generally did not work in tandem, since the Intended could be anyone, sidhe, paranormal, or even mortal.“Need blood!” He lunged for her, fingers clawed.The chains stopped him short and he landed on his knees and slipped in his own blood.Sprawled, he shouted [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]