The Dream Crafter(88)
It was the same feeling he’d gotten as a kid, when he tied a string too tight and left it too long on his finger. It was a moment of pain, a release of pressure, then almost like his skin groaned in relief to be free.
Merc was glancing down at his own hands, and Hadrien would make sure he’d never find out what it felt like on the other side of a bound release. Looking up, Merc met his eyes again. “Too bad I’m not going to be the one giving you what you deserve, but that was one of the things we negotiated.”
“Negotiated? What the fuck you talkin’ about?” Smug prick. Hadrien would have Merc kneeling before him, maybe on slivers of glass.
“Though I didn’t fight it too hard. When it’s a choice between beating the shit out of you or making love to my wife on our beach, the only thing I could say was I wanted a recording of whatever they end up doing.”
Warmth suffused Hadrien, and with that signal of magic, Hadrien was transported to a back room overlooking the larger auction room, all located within a restricted club whose clientele were already arriving, excited by the possibility of obtaining the book.
“I am disappointed. I had thought Dorus would have more sense than to align himself with your ilk.” An Asian man stepped forward from the shadows wearing what looked like a robe, but fuck if the man didn’t make it look like he was wearing all the king’s jewels. Hadrien took a step back from the menace the man projected, though all the man did was look into the larger room to observe the faces of those sitting in wait for the auction.
A hand on his shoulder, and Merc sidled next to him. “How?” It was all Hadrien could get out before Merc grabbed the book and disappeared.
Oh shit, oh fuck and it was time to go and Hadrien stepped back to feel rough, sharp stone against his back and he was in a cell, stone walls and a closed wooden door. An Asian woman all in white stepped in front of him and placed her hand against him, pressing one finger against a spot on his chest.
Pain exploded through his body, forcing him on the ground as sobs sounded from his throat.
Through slitted eyelids, there came the approach of sandaled feet, the shoes the kind he would see on old samurai movies. “Hadrien.” The voice was above him, the same man from earlier. “I have questions, and you will answer me.”
Chapter Fifty
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Taneasha sat in the lone wooden chair in the otherwise empty room, arms crossed over her chest and leg jerking in place.
Room. More like a dungeon. No windows, concrete floor, bare walls. Since that night when she’d been grabbed from the vampires and separated from Miss Miller, she’d been stuck here in a cell for gods knows how long, but tonight, an elf had dragged her down here with no explanation. So now she sat, waiting. Jerks.
From the far wall the loud bang that signaled a door being opened, and in walked the redheaded woman from that night, the one who seemed to be in charge of it all. She was wearing that sword, the one Taneasha dreamed of, swinging at her in nightmares that had her screaming herself awake.
The woman locked eyes with her, and inside she was frozen, trapped, a hare under the sharp gaze of an eagle, unable to move even if stillness meant her eventual end.
The redhead turned her head, breaking eye contact, and sensation returned to Taneasha’s limbs. “We’ve never been formally introduced. My name is Fallon.” Fallon looked her over in two quick glances, her attitude smug superiority. “How are you faring, Taneasha?”
Hard on the heels of that fear, anger burbled inside, crowding out the last remnants of shame of how she had been so pathetic only a moment before. Taneasha shouted out, “You can’t keep me here! I’m just a kid and I made a mistake. You’re not allowed to kidnap me and I want to go home!”
Fallon walked around the room, unhurried movement and not looking at her, instead looking at the bare walls. “It’s nice to have wants. Afraid, though, that in this case…I don’t think it’s happening.”
“I told you, it was a mistake. My mom and dad will get me out.”
Fallon’s head turned to her, and Taneasha’s chest went concave under the force of those gold eyes. She’d seen eyes like that before, the only time she’d seen her master bow his head to someone. Frightening eyes. Scary eyes.
Those eyes only held hers for a moment, but Taneasha gulped in breath when Fallon turned away and began to speak again. “You have strange ideas of what a kid is allowed to get away with. As for your mom and dad, they may want you out, but again, it’s not happening. You were in the company of necromancers. Under no law are you going to get free.”