Page 55 of Bound By Blood

“Just one. At her request. She works for me.”

“Why not more?”

Zack shrugged. “I didn’t want the responsibility. What about you? Have you made other vampires?”

“We cannot turn others into what we are. What powers do you hold?”

“Just the run-of-the-mill stuff. The ability to read mortal minds. To dissolve into mist. To transport myself across the room or across the world. To change shape.” He grinned. “Into something larger than a cat.”

Something that might have been amusement flickered in Drake’s eyes and was quickly gone.

“What about you?” Zack asked. “Any extra perks from being born a vampire?”

“None beyond what you have mentioned.” Odd, he thought, that they shared the same preternatural powers, yet acquired them in totally different ways. “Can you be active when the sun is up?”

“Only if my life depends on it, and then only indoors and for a short time. You?”

“In my cat form, for as long as I wish. And in this form, for short periods, as long as I am protected from the sun.”

“Kaitlyn’s got the best of both worlds, doesn’t she?” Zack said quietly.

Drake nodded. “You are in love with my daughter.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.

“Yessir, I am.”

“She is my only daughter, the only child I will ever have.”

“Kaitlyn told me your father had numerous wives and dozens of kids.”

“That is true, but his way is not my way.”

Zack shifted from one foot to the other. The pain of the silver was almost unbearable. Changing position caused the shackles to rub against his burned skin. It took all of his willpower to keep his expression impassive, to stay on his feet, to keep from rubbing the rawness around his neck. But if it killed him, he refused to let the other vampire know how badly he was hurting.

Drake studied Zack Ravenscroft through narrowed eyes. Dried blood stained Ravenscroft’s neck and ankles where the silver had rubbed his skin raw. He knew the other man was in pain, yet there was no sign of it in Ravenscroft’s voice or in his eyes. He stood there, tall and straight, his attitude just short of openly defiant, yet there was a trace of respect in his manner, no doubt in deference to the fact that Drake was Kaitlyn’s father.

“The silver,” Drake asked, though he already knew the answer. “Does it burn? Or merely drain your strength?”

“It burns like hellfire. And if it didn’t weaken me, I’d be on the other side of that door with my hands around your throat.”

Drake grinned inwardly as he turned on his heel and left the dungeon. He had no doubt that Zack Ravenscroft would make a formidable enemy. The worst part was that he found himself liking the other vampire in spite of everything.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Zack cursed long and loud as he sank down on the cold stone floor. If Kaitlyn’s father was going to kill him, why the hell didn’t he just do it and get it over with? Anything would be better than this.

He wondered again how many people—mortal or vampire—had been imprisoned here. Suffered here. Died here. The floor beneath him reeked of old blood, urine, and excrement; the very air was fetid with the scent of death.

Leaning his head back against the wall, Zack closed his eyes and tried to distance himself from the stink that surrounded him, the pain that knifed through him with every movement, every breath. Knowing it was useless, he tried to dissolve into mist, but the silver rendered him powerless, helpless.

And he hated it.

Kaitlyn had asked if he liked being a vampire. He had never really answered her, other than to say that, given a choice, he wouldn’t go back to being mortal. The fact was, he loved being a vampire. He loved the physical power it gave him, the enhanced senses, the ability to read minds, to change shape, to will himself wherever he wished to go. He loved the anticipation and excitement of the hunt. He loved holding a woman in his arms, reading her thoughts, giving her pleasure even as he filled himself with her essence. And yes, if he was honest, he loved knowing that he held the power of life and death in his hands. It wasn’t something he was particularly proud of, but there it was.

“Kaitlyn.” He felt her presence, recognized her scent, even before he opened his eyes. And she was there, her beautiful blue eyes filled with sorrow as she looked at him.

She moved closer to the cell, her hands wrapping around the bars. “Are you all right?” It was a silly question. She could feel his pain, see it in the depths of his eyes, the tight lines around his mouth.

“Oh, yeah,” he muttered, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Never better.”

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