Call of the Siren(58)

“Maybe this will actually work,” he whispered to himself. That was, assuming he could somehow locate one little blond-haired angel in this massive, four-storied castle.

He lifted his gaze to the giant stone structure. As if the gods were smiling upon him, a hint of spun moonlight caught his eyes.

There. Right at the third story, two windows in.

The image was gone before he could fully set his sight on it, but he could have sworn that was a glimpse of Lina’s hair.

“Fuck,” he muttered. Every fiber of his being vibrated with an anxious buzz. This was insane.

“Shut up,” he whispered furiously, gripping his head and shaking hard until the frantic music buffeting his mind quieted down.

Crazy-ass stupid idea or not, he was going in there.

Dagan took a fortifying breath and started toward the stone steps that led up to a colossal set of double doors.





Chapter Sixteen

Kaleidoscopes of color danced in front of Lina’s eyes. She let the thick drapes covering the window slip through her fingers, allowing them to fall back into place. Only belatedly did she realize she had too many fingers. Eight instead of five.

Well, damn.

She held them up to her face, following the blurry trail as it shifted to the right. Maybe she’d had this many all along and hadn’t realized it. Or maybe her hands weren’t really there. It could all be some elaborate sort of illusion.

“What if I don’t exist at all?”

Her voice sounded thick to her own ears, as if a huge wad of cotton had been shoved into her mouth. Tasted that way, too.

When she lurched to the side, almost falling off the wide window bench she was perched on, she had enough presence of mind to allow her body to slump backward instead. Her head rested on the thick windowpane.

Hell, I’m tweaking. Hard core.

Hadn’t she quit using drugs? Right now that seemed like a distant memory. Or maybe just a dream. After all, how could someone like her be tough enough to quit? Once a score addict, always a score addict.

A stab of pain shot through her stomach, and she moaned, lifting all eight fingers to the spot. What had happened to her?

Ah well, not like she could ever remember anyway.

The scrape of something sounded to her right. Turning her head, she blinked until her sight refocused. A door had opened, and a gorgeous devil stood on the other side. Dark hair curled damply over his ears, and turquoise eyes gazed upon her. He wore nothing other than a pair of clinging boxer shorts, and the gorgeous honey-toned muscles in his chest and abs rippled and flexed under the dim lighting. His mouth moved, but she was too distracted by the downward curve of his full lips and the angle of his powerful, sexy jaw to understand what he said.

Wow…he can’t be real.

He didn’t look like a hallucination, though. Not only that, but he also looked familiar, as if she’d seen him before. Knew him.

A name curled on the tip of her tongue. Dag…

Oh hell, who was she kidding? She must be dreaming.

The effects of the drugs began to overtake her once more, making her vision swim and her ears buzz. Lina let out a hoarse chuckle and closed her eyes, resting her head back on the windowpane.

…

One thing Dagan had to say about castles: they were freaking confusing as hell. The double doors had led into a corridor that seemed to be right off the kitchen. Heart pummeling in his throat, he’d snuck by the open doors, catching a glimpse of a small army of people hurriedly preparing a meal. Guess they didn’t get to sleep much, considering it was probably past one in the morning, Romania-time.

Despite his fear that he’d be spotted, there didn’t seem to be anyone guarding the place. Apparently the big-ass impenetrable shield was enough to lull the castle’s occupants into a false sense of security.

After shooting up the nearest set of stairs, he’d wandered the mazelike corridor of the second floor before finding another stairwell leading up. Keeping track of his whereabouts within the castle had been tricky, but he thought he was still on the side where he’d seen the glimpse of flaxen hair. From there, he’d proceeded to open more than a handful of doors, peering into rooms that seemed empty, before coming upon one that was locked. Since that alone seemed unusual, he carefully grasped the knob and twisted until the lock collapsed under the force of his strength. What he saw when he opened the door, however, was wholly unexpected.

“Lina.”

Only she didn’t look anything like her normal self. She was semi-reclined on a window seat with her head resting on the windowpane and her legs haphazardly draped over the side. Her hair hung down in long, lifeless hanks. Her skin was flushed and blotchy, and what appeared to be a thin layer of sweat covered her shuddering body.