“I’ll die before I let you have her,” she declared, waiting as Beck had asked, but eager to flex her returning strength and take them all down now.
“We’ll let you have that wish,” the shorter captor chortled. His laughter died instantly when Marika cut him a look promising retribution.
“Ten minutes.” Ponytail motioned the others to follow him. “This entire room is concrete, like a bunker. There are no windows and the only door is cement also, controlled remotely by me. So don’t even think of escaping. You won’t be able to.”
The three exited. As they did, the heavy door ground into place, closing with a thud. The meager lightbulb cast long shadows on the walls.
“Like the pyramids,” she said, more to fill the silence than anything else. “Except they had only torches that went out once the oxygen left.”
Swinging her legs over the side of the stone sarcophagus, she stood, swaying slightly. “You have no idea how good it feels to be out of that thing.”
He came closer, studying her face with an intent look that made her shiver. “Did we—you really have a child?”
For a split second she thought of lying, but she could no longer hide. “Yes. A daughter. I named her Danielle, Dani for short.”
“How is that possible?” Frowning at her, he looked unconvinced. “Vampires can’t conceive.”
Lifting one shoulder, she winced at the twinge of pain. “So they say. But I did. I went to speak with our seer and she told me this happens rarely. When it did, the child was meant to achieve great things. So, nine months later, my baby was born.”
“Our baby,” he corrected, looking shell-shocked. As he stared at her, anger gradually replaced the surprise. “You kept this from me. My daughter. Why?”
The moment she’d been dreading. Swallowing hard, she kept her gaze on him, not allowing herself the luxury of looking away. “Please. I had my reasons. I’ll explain later, I promise.”
From the grim set of his jaw, she could tell he didn’t believe her. But finally, eyes blazing dark fury, he jerked his head in a nod.
“Is Dani a Halfling?”
Relief flooded her, which she instantly hid. She didn’t pretend to misunderstand his meaning. “She can shape-shift, if that’s what you mean. She’s alive.”
“Not a vampire.” He spat the word as if he hated all of her species because of what she’d done. She didn’t suppose she could actually blame him.
“No.” Her short laugh sounded bitter, she knew. “I couldn’t nurse her. But I bought formula and she thrived. She’s two and a half years old now.”
“Why do they want her?”
“That I don’t know. The seer warned me while I still carried her in my womb. To protect her, I hid among my own kind, until I learned Dani wasn’t safe there. Then I had no choice but to go into a human city and try to blend in. That’s how they found me.”
“Where is she?” His voice was a harsh whisper. “My daughter, where is she now?”
“Safe.” If she’d had a heart, it would have ached. So much pain in his face, grief in his voice. He’d never forgive her for what she’d done. She told herself it didn’t matter. Only Dani mattered.
“For now.”
“For always.” She glanced at the door, trying to judge the time. “When they come back, I’m going to kill them.”
“Can you? Are you strong enough?”
“Yes.”
“How long has it been since you fed?”
Again, she shrugged, forgetting her stiff shoulder. “Weeks, I think. Not long enough to hurt me. I’m fine. I’m still stronger than they.”
“You need blood. Drink mine.” He came closer, turning his head so his neck was exposed to her. “Use my blood to give yourself strength.”
Shocked, she stared at him, while her body reacted. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” she rasped, her mouth dry and her fangs suddenly aching. “When a vampire goes this long without nourishment, sometimes it’s difficult to stop.”
“But you will.” His gaze met hers, his full of a confidence she didn’t share. “My sister loved you and said you were strong.”
“Not that strong.”
Again he moved closer, bringing to her his tantalizing scent, so aromatic that she wanted to weep. “Drink. Hurry up, we don’t have much time.”
He hated her and yet was willing to do this for her? It made no sense.
As if he understood her thoughts, he gave her a grim smile. “Two is better than one. If we’re going to get out of here, I need you strong enough to fight at my side. Now drink.”
Despite her best intentions, she bent her head and moved in, ready to do as he asked.
Chapter 2
Before she could, the outer door began to grind open.
“Too late.” She stepped backward, feeling only relief. Sharing blood with Anton Beck felt too intimate somehow, especially after what had happened between them.
Plus, she didn’t really need it. Dark knows, she’d rested a long time. Even without feeding, she still had enough strength to take down ten puny humans.
Protecting the injured shifter might be a bit problematic, though he seemed to think he was in fighting condition. For both their sakes, she hoped so.
“How badly are you hurt?” She rushed the question.
“Not as bad as I look.” Flexing his fists, he grinned at her. That grin, and the flash of attraction she felt, made her remember why she’d done what she had. Sometimes, she saw his face in her daughter’s.
Pushing away her thoughts, she focused all her attention on the slowly opening door.
When the concrete slab had opened halfway, two of their three captors stepped through. Only the tall shifter with the braid was missing.
“Where’s the other?” She made her voice soft, casual.
The fat one seemed nervous, pudgy fingers fidgeting with a ring of keys. “He went to get the rope.”
Holding up a large cross, the dirty one grinned, showing stained teeth. “Don’t even think about trying anything.”
A cross. What a fool. Some of her kind had lived in the times before Christianity. Either way, a cross had no effect on her. She wanted to laugh but knew better than to reveal the truth. She’d take any advantage she could get.
Still, who were these men, and why were they living in the dark ages? Did they really think such a thing could harm her? They must not know squat about vampires. Excellent for her, bad for them.
She eyed them, letting her gaze travel down the length of them, twisting her mouth as though she found them wanting. Which she did, actually.
The smelly man began to sweat. He lifted his cross higher, trying to hide his terror. He didn’t realize that she could smell it, even over the stench of his unwashed body. The pungent scent of panic made her fangs ache and her stomach clench. Suddenly starving, she wanted to feed.
But she forced herself to remain still. Though every instinct urged her to jump them—first the one with the cross, then his partner—she wanted all three to pay. She’d wait for ponytail man to return with the rope.
“I don’t think he’s coming back,” Beck said in a casual