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With that the world around him faded, the grey cave shuddering and giving way to blackness. He closed his eyes against the shadows and held on to the image of Alison’s beautiful face. He was going to find that female.
If it was the last damned thing he did.
“Dax. Wake the hell up.” Jake’s voice pierced his eardrums like knives.
“You goddamn idiot,” Dax spat, sitting bolt upright, making his head spin and his stomach roll. Though he tried to speak it sounded more like a growl.
Crap. He realised he was still in wolf form. Sat on the edge of the cave looking out over the sea. His limbs were stiff, and his whole body was cold right to the core.
He’d obviously been asleep for a long old time.
“Sorry, mate, can’t understand you when you look like a dog.” The Djinn chuckled, his blond hair blowing absently in the breeze. Jake was probably one of the most beautiful looking people on the planet, but it was completely fake.
Djinn of course had no body features; they were completely devoid of form, with slits for eyes, and an undefined opening for a mouth. Their bodies were creepy as hell too; they had no shape to them whatsoever, no breasts, and no genitals. Thankfully they could shift their bodies at will, taking on characteristics of humans, making them look more normal. And they could walk through walls.
Djinn had the ability to make their bodies go completely spectral and become ghostlike. And because of their ability to skin shift, they were some of the most insecure, bitchy beings on this side of the kingdom.
Dax growled at him, low and hard. He was an idiot for waking him up.
“Look, buddy. You obviously need to sleep. Do it at home,” he snapped, standing up in the small space of the cave and pointing out towards the road.
The Djinn was right; Dax did need to get home, but not to sleep.
He needed to do some research.
Chapter Two (#ulink_0a8d6b2b-de21-52dc-b866-a243ed60e32a)
Alison woke with a start, the image of Dax’s strikingly well-defined face still in her mind. He looked so tired; his dark grey eyes looked almost black and were ringed with dark shadows. His black hair was long and straggly, like he hadn’t washed or brushed it for a while, and he had more stubble on his chin than she’d ever seen him with. His chest was still broad and muscled but she could see his ribs, he looked like he hadn’t eaten in a while. Worry snaked its way into her gut but she pushed it away. It was only a dream, right?
Even so, for the first time in weeks she woke with a smile.
The coldness sank in, her body groaning in response as she moved.
She ached from head to toe, her bones frozen, her body battered. She could barely feel her fingers any more. This cold was unbearable, especially without the warmth of her wolf. The oh so familiar heat at her core that represented the other half of her soul had disappeared leaving her empty and alone.
Alison cursed her luck, cursed it to the fiery depths of the Under Realm. She’d been captured by the Circle months ago, tortured and bound. Tamriel had rescued her but Maker only knew that she hadn’t felt safe since she’d been at home with her pack. She knew they would come for her and she had been right.
They had come for her. They’d taken her away and rebound her with the new High Lord’s magic. She shuddered at the memory.
The stench of the cell they kept her in wafted through her senses, making her gag. Thankfully her stomach had stopped growling; maybe it had finally realised they were only going to feed her the bare minimum.
You need to get above ground.
Dax’s voice reverberated through her. She was fairly certain that it was just a strange dream, yet she was grateful for it.
She’d been here for weeks, hoping, wishing that someone would come and rescue her. It had never occurred to her that perhaps they might not be able to read the GPS chip in the back of her neck because she was underground.
She smiled at her subconscious logic! Mayhap it was the memory of Dax that sparked that knowledge.
Though it was just a creation of her mind, that short moment with the image of him gave her new-found hope. Fresh determination.
She was at breaking point, on the verge of giving up on life. Now though she had something to work towards. Now she had a plan to create.
Now… She looked forward to her next encounter with the two tombs that guarded her rather than feared it, because she knew exactly what to do.
Alison sat on the mattress, listening intently for sign of any tuhrned coming to collect her. They’d gotten sloppy over time, and that would be their downfall. There were no windows in her cell and only one door that was heavy and locked.
Nearly there, she thought. She’d been picking apart the stitching on the mattress for a good hour or so, and finally it was giving way to a small hole, just big enough to get her fingers through. She paused again, listening to the noises around her.
She could hear her guards talking, laughing. There was the chink of glass on a table, and someone was shuffling something? Paper?
She assumed they were playing cards.
They really had gotten sloppy in the last week or so, maybe because she’d visibly given up fighting them. Now they weren’t twitchy and prepared to fight her when they came to give her food, water or…something else.
She internally cringed, as the memories hit her again.
She shoved them aside as best she could. They were drunk most of the time. They had grown used to her passiveness, her not being able to fight them because she was on the verge of starvation and death.
She was an easy target.
Or so they thought.
As the final stitch she’d been working on with her fingernail came free, she grinned, an expression that felt alien to her features these days. She dipped her cold, bony fingers through the small hole she’d created and pulled out some of the stuffing from the mattress. She kept pulling it free until her fingers brushed against the very thing she was looking for – the spring.
It took a good few minutes of tugging and teasing the wire before the spring came free but it did eventually.
She held the wire up in front of her.
The room was pitch black. They were so deep underground there was no natural light whatsoever, and the heavy door to her cell didn’t have a single crack in it, so no light seeped through there either.
She’d been kept in this fucking cell for so long now that her eyes had grown used to the darkness; her night vision had steadily increased, even though the rest of her body had begun to fail. As a result, as she held the curled bouncy bit of wire in front of her, she could see it clearly. This was exactly what she needed.
It took her a few minutes to get a second piece out of the mattress and she tugged a long piece of thread from the material too. She had to hide the wire somewhere they wouldn’t think to look.
She had thought of slipping it into her jeans pocket, but she doubted she’d have time to get it out once they arrived. Her clothes didn’t seem to last long when those sick bastards where around.
Carefully she braided her long mane of blonde hair. Even tied as it was it still fell to her hips. She used the piece of thread she’d pulled from the mattress to tie the end of the braid, keeping it in place, then carefully slid the two pieces of wire into the middle of the plait. It should hide them, just long enough for her to get out of her cell anyway.
Alison knew they would come soon. They usually visited her once a day to ‘wash’ and feed her. She dreaded their presence. Knowing what they were going to do made her skin crawl and bile rise into her throat.
She had spent most of her time in this horrible place trying to avoid them but nothing had worked so far. The High Lord had thankfully stopped coming of late; the Magi had visited her once a day, taken her down to a room somewhere beneath her cell, the same room where he had bound her. Bile rose at the thought, fresh tears stinging her eyes, but she violently shoved them aside. That memory was something she was going to push into the deepest depths of her mind and never think of, never speak of.
She knew he wouldn’t be coming to day; he had been so angry on his last visit, as he had been every time he’d come. He’d cut her so many times with various ritual knives, made her bleed on that stone and chanted so many different spells as he did and nothing had ever worked.
Maker only knew she had no idea what he was trying to do, but every time whatever it was hadn’t worked, he’d taken it out on her.
He’d stopped coming a few days ago, and that in itself was one small mercy. She only had these two brutes to deal with currently.
And though she had spent her days and nights dreading their visits, now she looked forward to it. Now she had a plan.
Alison sat in silence on the mattress waiting for them.
As she contemplated what she planned to do, she couldn’t help the stab of fear that hit her in the gut. She was not like Tamriel and Sapphire, she was not a strong female who could fight and hold her own in battle.
She hadn’t been trained for it. Alison had been trained to be a good mate and to bear children. Nevertheless, her spirit was strong, new-found hope fuelling her.
Adrenaline was a wonderful thing. As she waited, her body pumped with the stuff, making her heart race and her mind hum with a strange combination of dread and excitement.
She could do this. She had to.
Hours passed until finally the muffled voices in the room beyond became louder. They were coming to get her.
Fear slammed into her chest making her struggle to breathe. Tears prickled at her eyes but she refused to let them fall. Yes these bastards abused her, hurt her. Raped her. She was absolutely terrified of them.
But she had a plan this time. She knew what she had to do.
“Wake up, little wolf,” the tomb hissed from the other side of the door.
Alison physically recoiled at the sound of his voice, panic surging to the surface. She violently shoved it away. Now was not the time.
There was a loud clink that seemed to shake the walls of her cell; she’d come to know that sound as the lock being opened.
She held her breath, her whole body trembling in fear of what was to come.
“Little wolf…” the bastard breathed as he slid his body through the door. Alison sat, motionless, fear freezing her in place as he sauntered across the room. Light flooded through the open doorway, making her squint against the brightness.
As he neared Alison, the stench of death and rot hit her nose. She absently brought her hand to her throat, her cold bones shaking uncontrollably.
As her fingers brushed her long hair, the image of that bit of wire shot into her mind, bringing with it fresh determination. Adrenaline surged but she pushed it away. Though welcome, she needed to make them believe she was as terrified and weak as ever.
“Please, leave me alone!” she squeaked, scuttling back on the mattress, out of his reach.
“That’s not a nice thing to say to your lover is it?” he spat, so close to her now that little bits of spittle hit her face. His breath stank of whisky, and his movements were sluggish. He no doubt had been drinking all day.
As his cold hands came in search of her, she couldn’t help but swallow the scream that rose. Those hands had hurt and abused her so often it had almost wiped away any memory of a life without fear. Almost.
His touch was like ice as he gripped her, his sausage-like fingers wrapping around her fragile, bony arms as he violently pulled her forward.
Alison jerked away from his touch, scrambling further backwards on the mattress as far as she could get from him, and a squeak of terror escaped her lips.
“Don’t be a bitch,” he growled at her, leaning forward on wobbly legs and wrapping his hands around her hair. He put all his strength into ripping her forward, dragging her by her long hair. Tears stung her eyes as she lost her balance and fell forward. The tomb didn’t stop, he just continued dragging her, as she scrambled, bare-footed on the concrete floor, trying to get up.
She obviously was moving too slowly for him because he bent down and gripped her throat hard enough to bruise.
Hefting her to her feet, he spun her around and marched her out of the cell by her neck.
Alison was openly trembling, fear reverberating through her every fibre as he forced her out of her cell, past the door held open by the second tomb. Now she was out she could try and execute her plan of escape.
She knew they were too difficult to fight when they were together, Maker only knew she’d tried. No, she needed to take them out one by one.
And there was only one time when they weren’t together. Bile rose at the thought but it was the only time she had a chance in hell of taking them down.
Alison could feel the fragile skin of her neck bruising underneath his heavy touch; not that it really mattered, her body was littered with cuts and bruises anyway but that was nothing compared to the fact that she was, in truth, a tuhrned herself.
The former High Lord had kidnapped her, and technically almost killed her in the process of binding her soul. Her body was destined to rot and die though her soul lived on.
Knowing she was technically a tomb as well didn’t make these two brutes any less…disgusting. Her body was still relatively unmarred by the rotting hands of time, she’d only been in this state for little more than a few months, whereas these two were clearly long-lived tombs, she would hazard a guess that they had been tuhrned decades ago.
The tomb’s thinning brown hair hung loose from the top of his almost completely bald head, his skin so pale it seemed to glow an eerie blue. His companion was no less disgusting, though his hair had fared much better, the black waves hanging limply in long strands. They both looked like their bodies had given up on life. Though they were broad and muscular, they both had an almost bloated look to them, their bodies fighting the decay trying to overtake them.
Their skin was as cold as hers, though they didn’t seem to notice the temperature as much as she did. She suspected this had something to do with the fact that their nerves were so far into the rotting stages that they didn’t feel much any more which would probably explain why they were so vicious when they were ‘with’ her.
The hallway they were leading her down was as grim as her cell, the brick walls damp and slimy, the floor stained with mould and grime. The one thing they did have that she didn’t was light, bare bulbs on spindly-looking cables hung periodically from the ceiling, running the length of the small section of the building. They were dim and flickered but any light was better than none. There wasn’t far to go, as far as she could gather there really wasn’t much here. Behind her was a hatch that led downwards, further into the bowels of the building. Fear rose anew as she thought of that hatch, of the room, hidden beneath it. The High Lord had tortured her there so often, even the thought of that place made her skin crawl. Alison desperately tried to focus on what was to come, rather than what had been. Opposite her cell was another room that the two tombs spent all their time in. At the end of the hallway was a small bathroom and a door that led to places unknown. That door was her goal, it was her way out.
She was sure of it.
The tomb thrust her forward, making her graze her foot against the concrete beneath. Tears stung her eyes though she pressed onwards, allowing the brute to lead her through another doorway into the bathroom. He shoved her inside, by the back of her neck, making her stumble as he barked orders at the second tomb.
Alison slipped into the shower, leaning against the cool tiles, telling the fear riding her gut to calm down.
Slowly, she slid her fingers into her hair and pulled one of the two wires out of the plait, wrapping it around her knuckles lightly, and leaving the two sharp ends of the wire poking up from between her fingers. She then began tugging the second wire downwards, only an inch, just enough that it was poking out of the edge of her braid.
The tomb slammed the door so hard she heard the wood crack and splinter. He spun on his heel and stalked towards Alison. His breathing was heavy with lust, his eyes focused on her. His movements were laboured, unpredictable.
He didn’t bother talking to her, he just lunged. In a heartbeat he was on her, his huge cold fist wrapped tightly around her throat as he slammed her against the tiled wall of the shower. Panic surged, sending adrenaline rushing through her veins as she thrashed against him, fought to breathe, fought to gain control.
He pressed his palm harder against her throat, making her see stars, choking against him. Not that he seemed to notice, his attention was on her chest. Fumbling with his left hand, he tried to tear what was left of the thin material of her T-shirt away.
It was too difficult to do with his other hand wrapped around her neck so he quickly changed track, dropping her to the floor and spinning her around so quickly it made her stomach churn. The bastard kicked her legs from beneath her with a heavy-booted foot, forcing her to land on her knees, the movement jarring her back and bruising her shins. He shoved her forward so brutally she smashed her face into the tiled wall. Her nose shattered, sending blood cascading down from the wound, dripping onto the floor.
The tomb roared as the scent of blood hit him; he made quick work of shredding the flimsy cloth that covered her, and then bared his fangs. Hissing. Alison cursed the High Lord to hell. He was a vampire-born Magi and his ‘gift’ to his minions was ‘turning’ them into vampires, ‘gifting’ them eternal life as a reward for their service.
Alison didn’t have time to breathe, let alone move, as he lunged for her, sinking his thick fangs brutally into her shoulder. The sharp teeth punctured her skin with ease, sinking through what little flesh she had left and hitting bone. She thrashed against him, trying to dislodge him but to no avail. He pulled her back against him, crushing her throat with his hand. She could feel his erection pressed against her. Fear turned this bastard on.
“I’m going to fuck you while I drink you,” he spat, her blood dripping from his mouth. He reached forward and ripped apart the top of her jeans, sending the button flying. He wasn’t gentle; his nails tore her skin making her bleed. Tears filled her eyes, making her vision blurry, but she hastily blinked them away. She needed to be able to see if she was going to get this right.
The bastard grabbed her by the shoulders, hefting her up onto her feet as he stood, violently shoving her jeans down. She knew what he was going to do. She had been with this bastard many times; he forced himself on her daily. He liked to see the fear in her eyes as he took her, liked to watch her scream. And that was going to be what would kill him.
Adrenaline surged through her anew as he moved her, forcing her to step out of her jeans.
Now was the time.
“I’m going to take you until I break you in half, wolf. Then I’m going to bleed you dry,” he hissed. His breath smelled like death and whisky, whispering past her shoulder as he spoke. Alison didn’t say anything. Just waited.
He was going to turn her around in a minute, and she needed the strength of him spinning her to hit him hard enough to knock him out. She didn’t have the upper body strength on her own. She’d been starved for weeks and her strength was at an all-time low.
He pressed himself against Alison’s back, his vile body cold against her skin. The tomb ran a heavy hand down her chest, brushing against her breasts, then further down. It was all she could do not to throw up.
