A Wind of Change(23)

“Come now,” he said, bending down closer to me and touching my cheek with his cold fingers. “No need to get us off to such a rough start.”

The blonde woman was now standing right next to us. Her eyes looked swollen from crying and black mascara stained her cheeks. “What are you going to do with this one, Michael?” she asked.

Michael.

“I need to consult Jeramiah,” he said.

Jeramiah?

I made another attempt to scramble away, but he was unnaturally fast. He’d gripped my waist before I’d even managed to stand up.

“You’ll do better not to struggle,” he said calmly.

Lifting me from the ground, he flung me over his shoulder. Then he lurched forward with such speed, it knocked the breath out of me. The wind whipped against my ears. It felt like I was falling, not being carried.

He stopped at a large trapdoor fixed into the sand. The blonde girl stooped and pulled it open, then Michael carried me inside. Still wrestling with me as I fought him, he descended a narrow staircase.

I gasped as we touched down on a shiny marble floor. We were standing on a platform surrounded by glass walls at the top level of a huge atrium. It had too many layers for me to count, and it was lavishly decorated, with a sprawling garden in the center and massive chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

“Who the hell are you?” I shouted again, kicking and pounding my fists against his back. He barely seemed to notice my struggle as he headed with me toward an elevator. Marilyn entered after us and pushed a button.

“Why don’t you just tell her?” the young woman said, rubbing her temples as the elevator began to descend. “Her questions are giving me a headache.”

Michael shot a look at Marilyn.

“I’ll tell her when I tell her,” he snapped.

Marilyn crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at Michael.

I continued to attack my captor’s back—and any other part of his body I could reach—but he didn’t seem to feel a thing. My attempts to break free only made his freezing hands close more tightly around my legs.

“Please,” I gasped. “Please. Let me down!”

Both of them ignored me as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. Marilyn took a left turn and headed in the opposite direction from Michael and me. I strained my neck to see where he was taking me as he sped up along a wide veranda. We passed closed door after closed door, his footsteps echoing off the sleek floors. Finally Michael stopped in front of one of the doors and rapped his knuckles against it.

I held my breath as there was a loud click and the door swung open. Michael’s hands ran up my thighs and gripped my waist. He lowered me to the floor. I tried to dart away from him, back out of the door, but he held me firmly in place—my back against his chest, forcing me to face forward.

My eyes fell on the man standing before me in the hallway of a luxurious apartment. He was tall, even taller than Michael. He had a robe draped around his broad shoulders, partially revealing a chiseled torso. He had dark shoulder-length hair and harsh blue eyes that roamed me curiously.

“Who’s this?” he asked, his voice low and deep.

“Jeramiah, she walked right up to us. I couldn’t resist…”

I flinched as the blue-eyed man stepped forward and placed a hand beneath my chin, tilting my head upward. Then he let go and lowered his face to my neck before breathing in.

“Hmm,” Jeramiah murmured. “Take her down to the basement.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

I was still holding out hope that this was all just a dream. I must’ve fallen asleep in the car on the way to the tanks. The trauma of losing my sister had brought about this crazy nightmare I couldn’t escape from…

Jeramiah took a step backward and a beautiful ebony-skinned girl appeared by his side. Dressed in a short nightdress, she wrapped her arms around his waist and settled her gaze on me.

“The basement?” she asked, her voice silvery. “Really, Jeramiah? She’s a beauty.”

Jeramiah heaved a sigh and studied me again.

“She is a beauty,” he said thoughtfully, after a pause.

“I was going to suggest that I keep her,” Michael said.

Keep me?

“Please!” I stammered. “Where’s my sister?”

Jeramiah raised a dark brow, then spoke as if he hadn’t heard me. “After the kidnappings this week, we’ve already selected enough humans to half-turn. Keeping her in the upper levels would upset the ratio,” he said.

Half-turn?

Ratio?

What is he talking about?

There was a pause. “I could… restore it,” Michael said.

“You know I don’t like waste, Michael,” Jeramiah replied, his eyes stern.