Page 72 of Blood Lust

Oz.

I tried calling him at the mountain, and I try again now, but I can’t sense anything. I am so weak, maybe he can hear me even if I can’t hear him. I am doing my best not to give up. She doesn’t want to help me plan, and I don’t have the energy to convince both of us that this is our way out anymore.

A door slams shut, and Emerson’s heavy steps grow closer. We straighten our posture, trying to hide the weakness brought on by our separation and hunger. We won’t give him the satisfaction.

“I trust my guest had a nice relaxing day.” A sadistic smile spreads across his face as he takes us in. He can tell that we are wearing down.

Turning to Leland’s body, Emerson fingers the hilt of his creator’s sword. “It seems rather poetic that I took his life with his weapon.” Pulling it from its sheath, he places the point at our throat. “Would you like to have fun with it too? I’ll rip you open with it if you want.”

He is truly despicable.

Squaring our shoulders and jutting out our chin, we silently challenge Emerson. We are going to do our best to keep it together. Show him that we aren’t afraid of him.

Even though we are.

“Don’t say I never offered,” Emerson sheaths the sword and grips our neck, getting in our face. His hand grabs us by the jaw, squeezing hard enough that I could hear our bones straining. “Come on, sweetheart, show me a little fear.”

We lash out and bite his cheek.

Pulling away, shouting, skin tears from Emerson’s face. The flap hanging in our teeth still, we spit it on the ground and lick our lips of his blood. Eyes filled with fury, I can only watch as he raises his hand and slams the back of it against our face as hard as he can. Head swinging from the force, our vision is now trained on the hallway.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch.” Holding a hand to his cheek, he stalks from the room. His heavy footfalls are music to my ears. Denying him power over us is magnificent.

Two of his coven enter and undo some of our chains, leaving the ones that keep our wrists together nice and tight. We are dragged to a different area. Part of me is grateful that I won’t have to look at Leland’s body anymore, and part of me is mad as hell because I want a sip of that blood. We are so hungry…

Our stomach rolls.

They take us down one hall and then another. I don’t see a single window. Are we underground? There is an industrial feel to the place. Probably somewhere on the edge of Callery, where a lot of noise can be made, and no one around will give a singular fuck. Finally reaching a small room with a drain and nothing else, they shove us inside and slam the door shut, locking it.

I fume.

Are we no longer a threat?

They’ve bled us and starved us. I guess they think we are too weak to fight back.

One thing that has always irritated me is being underestimated by men. We lower our arms as far as we can and slide our legs over the chain to at least have them in front of us. The muscles in our arms relax, though they are still sore and very tender. Grateful that at least we have healed from our initial assault, even if the lack of blood is slowing the ability to heal from our current wounds.

We need to focus and come together. Begin to plot our next move. At some point, one of Emerson’s men will come through this door, and we need to ensure they don’t leave here alive.

Wren, can you hear me?

Oz’s voice echoes in my thoughts.

Relief pours over me.

Yes, I can hear you.

My coven is here, they are going to get that motherfucker, and I won’t be brutally raped and cut open.

Probably.

Hopefully.

We will start the attack soon. Where are you? Where’s Leland?

Pain swells in my heart…

Leland is dead. I show him the whole bloody scene. I’m downstairs, in the basement, probably. There are no windows I’ve seen. I recount the path we took from the original holding room to this one, hoping they can find us if we can’t get ourselves out. Not having seen the upper floors, or anything other than the first room and a couple of hallways, my account of the layout is lacking. It isn’t much, but it is better than nothing.

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