Page 14 of Mated Exile

Because if the vamps are keeping her alive, that can't be a good thing.

Seven

Delilah

I'm not really into the idea of being eaten alive by a bunch of dusty old vampires. So I do everything I can to try to get out of the cell they've put me in, while Bastian just watches, observing me without comment.

"Are you going to help?" I ask him, putting my hands against the iron bars and gritting my teeth at the pain. "I think between the two of us, we could peel this thing wide open."

"Already tried it," he says, not without kindness. "You might get out of here if you waste days of energy on the bars, sure, but you won't be able to leave this cell. Trust me, I've tried."

Gasping in pain, I let go of the bars and stare down at my hands. There are red marks twisting across my palms and fingers, rising up to welts as I watch. Taking a step back from the hateful iron, I shake my hands out, and when I glance at them again the welts have faded.

Werewolf healing. It's an extraordinary gift, but it'll only get me so far. If I push my body too far it'll start demanding more resources—like food, water, and sleep.

Turning to Bastian, I decide to try to gather more information from him if I can. "You've been here for a while, correct?"

"Years. Don't ask me how many." Raising his arms up above his head, he does a long stretch that makes all the lithe muscles in his body bulge. I try not to stare. "I've been stuck in wolf form so long that I barely remember how long it's been since they dragged me down here. All I know is that I was fourteen then, and I'm not now."

My breath hisses between my teeth in a choked gasp. Staring at him with wide eyes, I make an internal guesstimate at his age, and put him at about ten years a prisoner.

"You've lost half your life to this place," I tell him, shaking my head. "I'm sorry about that."

He shrugs, as if it isn't something he's thought about much. "At least I get to kill vamps from time to time. And they sometimes move me from one location to another. There's another arena like this, somewhere colder. I've long since given up on getting out."

An entire decade in this wretched place. I don't think I could possibly survive that long. I'd rather throw myself at the mercy of whoever I'm fighting in the ring.

Of course, if Bastian is right—and I have no reason to think he's wrong—then I reallywon'tsurvive ten years down here. It sounds like I may not even survive ten days.

Bastian may not plan on getting out, but surely he'll at least helpme.And if I give him an opportunity, maybe he'll change his mind and take it. It sounds like he's been defeated by the circumstances he's been in, but that doesn't mean he has no fighting spirit left.

"If you've been here for that long, you must know things. From your escape attempts, or from overhearing the vampires. Even in wolf form for so long you would retain some of that."

He cocks his head to the side, reminding me suddenly of a curious dog with big ears. Despite his physique, scars, and long black hair, there's an innocence to him. "I know a few things. Not much, but I've figured out which of the vamps don't get along, and which ones are willing to trade me things in exchange for giving them a show."

"A show?"

"In the arena. They like it when I make it last a long time. Marcellus especially—he's the one with the goatee who threw you in here. Once, he gave me an entire roast chicken in exchange for spending a whole day disemboweling his least favorite vampire."

I shudder at the imagery, though I can't feel sorry for the vamp in question. I'd probably do the same, too, if I were in Bastian's place.

Going over to him, I settle down on the ground opposite and stare into his bright amber eyes, which stand out against his brown skin. He watches me curiously, seemingly unembarrassed or unaware of the fact that he's half-naked, with little but his tattered pants and long dirty hair covering him. Despite that, there's no body odor to him, just the mellow scent of berries.

"Tell me all about what you know. Which of the vamps hate each other, which ones are stupid, which ones give you things. Maybe together we can find a weakness that won't take physical strength to overcome."

Bastian studies me, as if this hasn't occurred to him before. A small smile curls up his lips, and my heart does an exaggerated flip at the sight of it.

"I'll tell you anything you want, Delilah," he says, my name soft and sweet on his tongue, "and I hope that you're right, and you find your way out of this place. If you don't, I guess... I guess at least I will have tried."

I smile back at him tremulously, despite his sad words. I really hope Idoget out of here.

There are a few things I want to finish up in the outside world, after all.

* * *

Bastian has barely finished telling me everything he knows about the vampires when there's a rattling sound, and the door I was dragged through is thrown open. I jump to my feet, immediately alarmed and on guard. A familiar figure stalks through: Demetri, the seeming leader of all the other vamps, head honcho himself. He's trailed by the goateed man I now know as Marcellus, and a short pale blonde woman Bastian told me is Helene.

The last vamp to enter the room is Ambrosia. I stiffen at the sight of her, hating the amusement that dances in her eyes as her gaze lands on me. That long, silken dark hair trails down to her elbows, and she's still wearing the wine red dress she wore last night, no visible bloodstains on its surface. I can't shake the image of her wrapped around Kieran, her fangs slipping into his neck as he relaxed back against her, laconic and aroused.

---