Death's Servant(23)

I stride across the gravel and kneel at the vampire’s feet. Being submissive doesn’t come naturally to me and I have to rein in every impulse I have to stare her straight in the face. Through herculean effort, I avoid looking directly at the redhead and say, “I’m sorry about my behavior tonight. It doesn’t change the fact that I need your help. I can’t fight this vampire on my own and I haven’t found any wolves to help me. You’re the only option left.”
“Hmmph.” Her breath huffs out in annoyance. “Not much of an option since I already said no.”
Rafe wanders over and sits next to her, snaking an arm around her waist—making sure I understand they are a package deal. Well duh, they are married.
I steel my resolve and get to the difficult part. “What if I offer you something you couldn’t resist?”
I chance a glance at her face and see her intense eyes narrow at me in speculation. “And what could you offer that I need?”
“A vampire servant with werewolf blood. Someone who willingly donates when you need to increase your strength.”
A small gasp escapes her. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”
I look up, boldly meeting her gaze. “Yes. Yes, I do. I’m offering my life in exchange for Raine’s pack. No matter how you cut it, those are good numbers: one life for fifteen.”
Her voice softens with a gentleness I haven’t heard from her. “You aren’t simply offering your life. The bond can affect you. You might very well lose your sense of self.”
Rafe’s gaze turns calculating, not angry or jealous like I feared. “He’s thought about this long and hard, haven’t you, Jon?”
I nod.
“He knows what he wants, Dria. He wants your help and he’s willing to risk his future for it.”
Dria stands and walks past me. “Let me think on it.”
I bolt to my feet and grasp her hand. “There isn’t time. I need to get them out and stop him before he captures more wolves.”
She hesitates and looks to her husband. They are both silent for a moment before she nods. “I’ll do it. I’ll help. But we need a plan.”
Elation surges through me, the rush so intense my vision fades for a moment. “His place is about ninety minutes away. We could end all of this madness tonight.”
“No. We strike tomorrow. Let’s check out of the hotel and find a place as close as we can without alerting him. I have an idea on how to proceed.”






 
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Chapter Eleven

After a late dinner, we pack and drive our two separate vehicles to Middleburg, where the property was indicated on a map, not Purcellville like I thought. All those twists and turns when I followed Raine wound up leading to the outskirts of where many remote palatial estates lie, quite common in the affluential area.
The three of us check into the closest motel, which is still a ways from the vampire’s location, and then met in the couple’s room to discuss a plan. Dria refuses to visit the mansion tonight, even to case the grounds. She didn’t want to risk Cecil getting a hint of what was to come. We discuss arriving at his place the next night, dressed like we’re going to a party—well, she’ll be dressed anyway. I’ll be going in wolf form so he doesn’t recognize me.
After a brief trip to a local pet store to buy myself an expensive collar, I spend the next day sleeping. According to Dria it will be the only clothing piece I need to look like a well-kept vampire servant in his werewolf form.
We meet again in the couple’s room to go over details and annoyance vibrates off the vamp’s husband. The plan dictates that Rafe will stay at the hotel. For Dria’s ruse of being an addict to work, she stresses arriving with only a “pet” would appear more believable. He grumbled a lot last night but seems more agitated now that we’re leaving soon.
My nerves get the best of me, driving me to pace in their small hotel room while they stare daggers at one another. It’s almost nine and we should be getting on the road. Dria clears her throat, drawing my attention to her expression, one reddish eyebrow raised in expectation.
The young-looking vampire holds a knife over her wrist and my stomach clenches over the next stage of her plan. “I don’t understand this part. Why do I need to drink your blood?”
“You’ve met this bastard, right?” she asks. I nod, still unsure of how her blood will change that simple fact. “Got right up and personal with him—and he and his cronies drank from you?”