Page 29 of All Saints Day
“He’s a useless little brat—afraid of his own shadow, he’s not going to tell me shit. He’s just going to sit back and wait until Lowry and the others give you to him to breed.”
“What if I gave myself to you instead?” I blurt out—my panic high and clear in my thready voice as he claps the weighted shackles around my ankles—my bare feet swaying just above the water’s surface.
This stops Rook dead in his tracks, his stormy blue eyes turning up to me.
“Gave yourself to me?” he echoes, a faraway look in his gaze.
“Frank said that Lowry cut him a deal,” I stammer, my body aching as the weights stretch me painfully between the big metal hook and the inevitability of Lady Gravity.
A glimpse of fiery rage flickers across Rook’s face.
“Did he? And what did the old bird promise wee Frankie?” Rook stands, rope in hand—the only thing keeping me from plunging into the water below.
“No matter what, the Windmill has to keep me until they figure out a cure for the virus they want to unleash on everyone.” I fight to breathe, my lungs struggling with my arms being yanked over my head—my body weight working against me as it becomes harder and harder to fight for a full breath. “Even after theyfind a cure—they’re going to need omega breeding stock; she promised him he could have me—provided he can get the truth out of me, that I don’t die in the process.”
“Hmmm, that is awfully interesting. Something that I’ll have to have a chat with old Suz about.” Rook’s smile sours, and I can tell that this is the first he’s heard of it. “Good thing Susan and the other old duffers can’t hear us in here—because I know she wouldn’t have liked you letting a little morsel like that slip,” he purrs low and dangerously before looking up at a big black camera dome in the center of the ceiling. “Don’t look so confused, Dollface—they can see every twisted thing that goes on in here, sure, but considering all the old codgers on the board can’t stand the sounds of screams anymore…” he trails off, waving blithely at the camera before turning back to me.
“They trust old Rooky boy to give them the deets, sans screams of agony and pleading for one’s life.” He gives the rope a good tug, my body bobbing up and down once woozily midair.
“So, why don’t you tell me what else little old Frankie is hiding from me, eh?” he goads.
I close my eyes, steeling myself for the inevitable.
“If you can’t figure out what your host is hiding from you, Rook—I can’t help you.” I open my eyes, his rage written plainly on his face. “I’m not going to spill my guts to some psycho killer fronting alter just because I get a few threats of bodily harm or death,” I snarl, drawing in a deep breath just before Rook lets go of the rope.
The water is icy as I crash through the surface, and I feel like a soda can being crushed as my lungs desperately try to force the air out.
Time spent without oxygen in the frozen water seems to stretch on forever.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll fuck it up—and this will be the end. My mind begs as the cold burning of oxygen deprivation spreads through my aching chest.
Just as I’m worried that I’m about to release my captive breath—allowing the water to rush into my lungs—I’m yanked by my wrists into a loud, splashing breach of the surface.
I choke on my held breath and the small amount of water that managed to make its way into my mouth—my eyes blinking away the icy water.
Just as my vision comes into focus, I make out Rook—his face half covered by a black mask—a familiar atomizer pinched in his fingers.
Still out of breath, I can’t keep myself from the involuntary gasp for air my body makes, just as Rook blasts me with the suppressant melters.
Not Again!
I feel the fiery heat of lust rip through me like a back draft—setting all my senses aflame as I dangle, frozen and dripping wet from the hook dangling from the ceiling.
Even though my thinking brain knows that right now I’m dealing with Rook, my omega body chemistry is reacting to Frank, my fated mate—my alpha.
“Frank!” I gasp a moan, my nipples diamond hard through the paper-thin wet hospital Johnny—my slick flowing hot and thick between my legs.
“Like I said, Dollface,” Rook growls, reaching out to pinch my face in one powerful hand—pulling me toward him as I dangle from the ceiling like a side of beef in a slaughterhouse. “Frank isn’t home right now—so you’d better learn how to play along with me if you want to make it through this in one piece.”
Before I can respond, he lets the rope fly free again—my entire world disappearing beneath the frigid water once more.
This time I’m not under as long, but when Rook fishes me up from the depths, he only pulls me out of the water up to my chest, my face level with his as he kneels on the tiled decking.
“Old Margot and Landon must have found out some really interesting things when they started testing on their own daughter—stuff that was messed up enough to get the White Knight to go after them,” he tuts as I fight to chokedown a breath—Frank’s scent heavy and intoxicating in my heightened state of arousal. I might as well be in heat; all I can think of once I’ve come back from the knife’s edge of oxygen deprivation—is how I want Frank’s knot inside me.
That’s not Frank—there may never have been a Frank. I try to remind my traitorous brain, awash in conflicting chemicals.
I press my lips together—forcing myself to take deep, steady breaths in and out through my nose—not trusting myself to speak.
