Soul Mates: Sacrifice

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

  Soul Mates: Sacrifice

  TOP SHELF

  An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers

  PO Box 2545

  Round Rock, TX 78680

  Copyright 2007 © by Jourdan Lane

  Cover illustration by Rose Lenoir

  Published with permission

  ISBN: 978-1-60370-102-0, 1-60370-102-8

  www.torquerepress.com

  All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.

  First Torquere Press Printing: August 2007

  Printed in the USA

  Chapter One

  I sat up in bed and hit the switch on the headboard. The soft light that illuminated the bed wouldn't bother Lucien, but it was a sudden shock to my eyes. I'd been staring into darkness for the better part of an hour, my mind restless. A dream had ruined what could have been the most perfect day of sleep in a long while.

  Knees to my chest, I leaned against the headboard, one hand on Lucien's head, thumb moving lightly back and forth over his forehead. Lucien had fallen into a deep sleep long before dawn had arrived. He'd fed and then rolled over and crashed, mumbling that he was sorry he was so sleepy.

  It was still so soon after what had happened to him. Being taken from his own bed, impaled on a bed of spikes in the floor of a coffin, and then buried for over a week tends to take a lot of out of someone. As it was, if we'd been even hours later in finding him, Lucien would have been dead.

  Permanently.

  He wasn't fully recovered yet. His leg still hurt him more than he would acknowledge and he was weak from the blood loss and power drain. The best donors available had fed him, and his wounds could no longer be seen on the surface, but his body was still damaged on the inside and needed to heal.

  So far, Lucien had been in good spirits. He'd seemed to be dealing with everything okay, but I knew that it was only a matter of time before it really hit him that it was Caleb who was the cause of everything that had happened.

  Caleb.

  The one he'd loved and cherished for so long—the one he'd trusted above all others.

  Hell, I still had a hard time wrapping my mind around what Caleb had done. And I'd seen the damned video of him and Cyril together. I knew he'd done it, heard what at least part of his motivation had been, but part of me still couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe it.

  The last time I'd seen Caleb was the night before the Coven meeting. I'd run into him right outside my bedroom door and he was in a big-ass hurry to get away. I guess now I knew the reason why, but I couldn't understand why he'd even come back here after everything he'd done.

  None of it made sense to me. Only Caleb knew why he'd done what he'd done. I'd always been of the belief that jealousy makes people do stupid things. But this? This was beyond stupidity.

  I shook my head and crawled off the bed, wandering over to the closet. I found a pair of jeans and was just slipping them on when I heard the lock on the bedroom door click.

  Xander.

  As I buttoned my jeans, I poked my head out of the closet. He wasn't wearing anything but a loose pair of black cotton shorts and his hair was disheveled. He'd been sleeping.

  "Hey, baby."

  "Hey." His voice was almost a whisper at first. No doubt because he'd just rolled out of bed. "You okay?"

  "I'm fine. Just couldn't lie there anymore."

  "You've got a lot on your mind." It was a statement, not a question. "Maybe getting out of here for a little while would help."

  I considered it for a moment, knowing exactly where I'd go if I left this room. Xander stepped into the closet and handed me one of Lucien's T-shirts. I sighed and took it from him.

  "Will you stay with Lucien until I get back?"

  "Does a bear shit in the woods?"

  I shrugged. "Guess that depends on whether someone saw him."

  "The bear shit in the woods, the man saw him, the bear ate the man. Does that mean the bear didn't shit in the woods after all?"

  "I don't know. Did he?"

  "Of course he did. The wolf was watching. The wolf knows all and sees all."

  "What if the bear ate the wolf?"

  "Not a chance, baby." Xander laughed and shook his head. "Why do you ask me stupid questions like that?"

  "You're the one that asked me about bears."

  "I don't mean that." His expression went serious. "You know I'll stay with Lucien. You know that's why I'm here."

  "I'm sorry I woke you."

  "That's just us, Peter. And you apologizing for it makes about as much sense as putting a bucket down a dry well."

  "Last thing I want to do is take advantage of you, Xander. It's always better to ask than order."

  "Since when?" He waited until I pulled the shirt on to grab me by the shoulders and force me to look at him. "I understand you're fucking exhausted and that you're not quite clearheaded at this point, but dammit, Peter—please don't pull away from me."

  "I'm not pulling away from you. I'm just…"

  "What?"

  "I'm tired." I shrugged his hands away so I could hug him. And when I did, it was as if I couldn't let him go. "I'm tired and I'm scared. Scared of everything that's happened here lately, where it leaves all of us."

  "Things are gonna be fine, baby," he whispered, holding me tight. "You have to believe that."

  "They may be fine, but they'll never be the same." I pulled away and gave his forehead a quick kiss. "You want me to bring you anything?"

  He shook his head. "I think I'm just going to curl up with Lucien and sleep."

  "I'm sure he'd like that."

  "I would, too." Xander rubbed at his neck, sighing. "It's been a long… well, however long it's been since I slept last. All my damned days have run together."

  I frowned. "You haven't slept?"

  "For about an hour." He shrugged. "I've been downstairs."

  "With Nikolas?"

  He turned and headed out of the closet. "Sort of."

  I followed after him and grabbed his arm, turning him to face me. "What's going on? What aren't you telling me?"

  "Just go," he said as he shrugged away. As he crawled onto the bed, he looked back at me. "We'll talk when you get back, okay?"

  And just like that, I'd been dismissed. Part of me wanted to lash out at him for it, but another part of me just wanted to let it go. Letting go won out. Xander was the last person I wanted to fight with.

  "Fine."

  I turned and headed for the door, not even bothering with shoes or boots. I took one last glance toward the bed as I shut the door. Xander had snuggled close to Lucien and pulled the comforter up nearly over his head. I started to go back and turn off the light above the bed, but Xander's arm flailed up, searching for the switch.

  As the light went out, I shut the door. I stood in the hallway for a moment, listening. Off in the distance, I could hear voices, though I couldn't make out any words. The sound of a vacuum cleaner starting up covered the voices a few seconds later.

  So the house didn't magically clean itself after all.

  I found myself walking down the stairs toward the lower level of the mansion. There wasn't much on this lowest level. Some people called it Hell. I called it…interesting.

  One of the escape routes was through this level, leading to a long,
long tunnel, guarded day and night. A transport vehicle, bags of blood, and a case full of money awaited in case of an emergency. I hoped that option was something we never had to use.

  A ragged cry rang out from the next corridor off to the left.

  The Dungeon.

  It surprised me that I'd come so far and not realized it. I came to a stop in front of the door leading into the massive dungeon area. There were punishment cells as well as play rooms, but there were times when it was hard to figure out which was which.

  Some of our people had interesting ways of getting off.

  The moment I stepped inside the door, I knew something was wrong. Well, maybe not wrong—but off. Normally, there was no shortage of sounds. Moans and cries of both pain and pleasure were a mainstay. Now, there was nothing but silence.

  I paused at Nikolas' private play room. The door was cracked open, but a cursory look inside showed the room to be empty. I moved on down the corridor and found that every single play room was empty as well. At least one of them was usually occupied during the day by some of our werewolves.

  I hit the end of the corridor that led to the punishment and holding cells. I opened the door and stepped inside, cringing when it slammed behind me. Oh yeah, way to be quiet and not attract attention.

  The first two cells were empty. In the third cell was a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties. He was wearing fatigues and something about him made me pause. I wasn't sure if it was the clothes or the military-style crew cut of his salt-and-pepper hair. The man looked at me with bored, hateful eyes, but didn't bother getting up from his small bunk.

  I walked a little farther and picked a clipboard off a nail beside the man's cell. We kept records on every single person who was brought in, telling who brought them in, why, what was to be done to or with them, and finally, what they were marked for—if anything.

  The man was marked as Nikolas' private play toy. He'd been brought in by the team and by the date and the description, he was the same vampire hunter that I'd directed Silver to bring into custody over a week ago. I'd wanted him to be a gift for Nikolas.

  I didn't know why the hunter was still here, still alive. We were going to have to fix that—and soon.

  I replaced the clipboard on the nail and looked up to see the man standing before me. He curled his lip in disgust, but there was desperation in those eyes.

  "Why am I being held here?"

  "You know the answer to that."

  "Who are you? What do you do here?" When I didn't answer, he reached out for me. "Maybe we can come to some kind of agreement, here. I can make it worth it if you help me out, man."

  "Now, why would you want out of here?" I asked. "You've got a roof over your head and you're fed three times a day… Really, it seems like you've got it pretty good."

  "You're one of them," he snarled.

  "The very one who ordered to have you brought in. Tell me, hunter… What else shall I add to your list of scheduled…activities?"

  He swallowed hard and backed away. "That can't be possible! How can you be awake during the day?"

  A scream ripped through the silence around us and I turned away from the man in his cell in favor of finding the source. It hadn't come from the holding cells, and, from what I could gather, it hadn't come from the punishment cells either.

  There was only one other possible place and when I realized that, I quickened my pace. The heavy metal door opened just as I reached for it.

  Screams poured from the open door and with them came pain. I clutched at my head, stumbling, bile quickly rising from my stomach. Hands grabbed me up and then there was a body before me, warm and familiar, yet not. I blinked and looked up.

  "I tried to get to you before you opened the door," Logan said. "You won't be able to go in there."

  "What's going on?" I suddenly felt as if I'd been hit by a Mack truck going seventy. "What are you doing awake?"

  "I've always risen early."

  Great. From what I'd gathered, only the more powerful Masters rose before the sun set in the evenings. God help us all if he decided he wanted to lead, rather than follow. I managed to steady myself and tried to pull away from Logan, but he clung to me.

  "Let me go, Logan."

  "If I let you go, the pain comes back."

  Christopher had done the same thing; dulling my senses the first time we'd found a decomposing body in the club, and Lucien had done it for me when Caleb had been attacked. There were just a few people I had enough of a blood bond with to feel pain through—and two of them were up in my bed asleep.

  "Caleb's awake?"

  "Well, whatever's in that cell is awake," Logan replied, shaking his head. "Can you shield against him?"

  I started to say yes, but I wasn't sure if I could. Lucien and I had worked on my shielding for a long time. I wasn't as good as I could be, but considering I was still human – though how human was now fully debatable – I was damned good. But I'd still had Lucien to lean on. I could lean on any vampire for the support, as long as there was a blood connection.

  I grabbed his hand and turned it over, exposing his wrist. "Give me."

  Without question, Logan brought his wrist to his lips and bit down to break the skin. His wrist was offered without a word and I grabbed it, fastening my lips around the two bleeding punctures. The first sip was rich and inviting, the second was even better. His blood and power surged through me with each and every sip and I only stopped when the wound healed.

  Logan dropped his arm and I pushed away from him, already working on shielding. Once I managed to get my head in the right place, I stopped touching him and tried to shield from Caleb on my own. But his power beat furiously against my defenses and I knew I'd never be able to face him alone.

  And that? Was a very, very bad thing.

  I offered my wrist up to Logan. "Hurry up, then."

  He smirked and took my wrist. As he brought it to his lips, his tongue played back and forth over my skin. The more his tongue worked, the less I cared about what was behind that door. When he finally bit down, I groaned. I expected – and if truth be known, wanted – him to take his time. I wanted to feel the pull as he took from me, wanted to relish the exquisite sensations.

  But he stopped after only a few sips, the expression on his face not quite disgust—but pretty damned close. I jerked my wrist away. "Sorry to disappoint."

  Logan shook his head, mouth still working as if he'd bitten into something nasty. "Your blood is… Peter, it's not right."

  "No one else has complained."

  "I'm not complaining; I'm concerned." He blanched and stumbled away, bracing himself against the wall as he vomited up the blood he'd just taken from me. "Your blood is toxic."

  "To?"

  "To everyone." He stood and looked at me, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "What happened to you while you were gone?"

  "I don't know," I said. "It's a blank, for the most part."

  "With all due respect, you need to find out what they did to you. And why they did it."

  "What, you can't figure that out by touching me and getting one of your visions?"

  "Not and help you shield Caleb."

  Okay. So maybe he wasn't as powerful as I'd feared he was. I didn't really want company when I saw Caleb for the first time, but my options were pretty damned limited. No way would I bring Lucien down here this soon. If anything, I wanted to prevent him from seeing Caleb until he was a little more healed physically—and a lot less vulnerable emotionally.

  I grabbed the door handle and opened it. The screams had stopped at some point and I was glad. Screams from a human were annoying enough, but screams from even the weakest vampire could be incapacitating. Logan went in ahead of me and I followed behind him after shutting the door.

  "Where's Nikolas?"

  Logan pointed ahead. "When I left him, he was in the viewing room."

  The viewing room. Right. It was similar to the viewing rooms you'd find in just about any police station whe
re other officers or lawyers could watch an interrogation in progress. Except, our one-way mirror was bullet and predator proof.

  For the most part.

  The room connected to our viewing room was reserved for the worst-case offenders and the most violent creatures the team managed to bring in. There were times when we'd been afraid that the mirror would never hold. It had once taken on a pissed off, fully shifted werelion. So far, he was the only one to have cracked that one-way mirror, forcing us to replace it with something bigger and better.

  Man, that night had been a fucking mess. Literally. Territorial bastard had pissed all over everything he hadn't bled on—and then some. He was also the reason we'd installed shock pads in the restraints, the floor, and on the wall.