Page 113 of The Vampire's Thirst
Pushed open with a muscled shove, the door slammed into the wall. The smiling asshole shifter-whatever walked in, his face contorted with malicious glee. Dax had to admire a guy who enjoyed his work.
A demon carried a stool into the cell, dragging it across the concrete, taking it to the soon-to-be torturer. “What’s your name, vampire? I’m Roark.”
“Go to hell.”
The male waved a hand in the air. “Look around. We’re already there.”
Dax rattled the chains which kept his arms locked behind his back. Solid. Silver. Burning like a sonofabitch.
“Name? Come on. That’s the easy stuff.”
Dax glowered, opening his mouth when his fangs pierced his gums. He remembered a time when he had pissed off his stepfather. The sadistic bastard was so angry he had two males hold him down while stepdaddy beat him bloody with fists and claws. Of course, the guy had made sure Dax healed before he reported to work. After all, he was the favorite boy toy of the clientele. That was before the night when everything changed.
Roark sighed. “Are you choosing the hard way?”
A laugh started deep in Dax’s chest and rumbled to the surface. “That’s how I roll. I’m my own worst enemy.”
“Until now. As of today, I have the honored role.” The shifter mix vaulted onto his feet to pound Dax with a fist to his jaw.
Dax spit out blood. “My sister hits harder than that.”
A gut punch followed a strike to the temple. He shook his head, expecting bells to ring.Not yet.But the day was young.
“Your name.”
Dax hawked another mouthful of blood onto the interrogator’s boots.
Roark kicked out, his heel connecting with the vampire’s groin, knocking the chair over in the process.Okay. That hurt.Dax’s eyes watered from the pain in his balls. He hoped they still functioned after this. He was fond of them.
“Name?”
“Mary Poppins.”
A smile quirked Roark’s lips. “Superfuckingfragilisticexpialidocious.”
Circling behind, he righted the toppled vampire. Roark pulled down the ceiling hook and attached it to the chains on Dax’s hands. “When I hoist you, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch. Your arms will probably snap out of the joints, depending on how long you can hold yourself up. Can’t be too long.”
Dax locked his elbows, his shoulders stiff. As they began to tremble, he felt like an Olympic gymnast going for a perfect ten on the rings. When he was about to lose control, a satyr rushed in and leaned toward Roark’s ear. The mixed breed Arisen Dawn soldier growled, lowering Dax to the concrete.
“I have a treat for you, vampire.” A warlock walked through the door, long robes, stringy hair, and a snarly expression on his face. The only thing he was missing was the pointy hat.
I hate warlocks.
While he waited for the mage to settle in, the shifter-whatever softened up Dax with a few cracked ribs and a broken jaw. Then came the invasion. The mage ripped into his head with a mind spell meant to pull out memories.
Dax’s lips moved as he muttered softly. “Hickory, dickory, dock/The mouse ran up the clock…”
The nursery rhyme recitation did not work long. Eventually, Dax’s screams echoed off the walls while Roark leaned against the concrete blocks, grinning. The asshole warlock not only extracted the vampire Firebrand’s name but a shitload more.
Good news. Bad news. Pain meant Dax was still alive. He could handle that. Someone rummaging around in his brain, burrowing in like a Darque pincer beetle, was unacceptable. The vampire didn’t know how, but he would break free and kill the mutherfucking mixed breed and his sidekick mage. Their days were numbered.
One and counting.
Dax was barely conscious when two demons dragged him back to the cell, the tops of his feet scraping along the ground, his blood drizzling on the concrete the entire journey. His head lolled side to side as he watched the crimson blobs fall.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
A door clanged open, and he landed on the floor in a heap, falling into a wake-sleep state where painful memories bubbled to the surface.
