Page 53 of Claimed By Blood

Both scenarios aren’t good.

“It’s unlikely our brother would torture her,” Immy interrupts, speaking for the first time. “But I don’t get why he’d take her and leave Morwen… That makes no sense. If he’s looking for hostages to use against Cain, it would make more sense to have multiple bargaining chips at his disposal.”

“So he wants Evie for something else,” Silas mutters. “But what?”

“Who cares?” I growl. “Can you two use your bonds to get us close to her?”

Finn and Draven share a look. “Yes,” the latter finally answers.

“But if she’s underground and the tunnels keep changing…” Finn trails off.

Doesn’t matter to me. “I’ll fucking dig.”

I lost her once. I amneverletting it happen again.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

EVELYN

This headache is really tryingto kill me. The pounding pain has settled right behind my eyes, and I dread opening them because I suspect that’s only going to make it worse. I breathe slowly, forcing down the urge to vomit. My thoughts are unusually slow, like I’m battling the worst case of brain fog. It’s familiar, and it takes me a few more long minutes to figure out why.

Silver.

Sure enough, when I open my eyes, the small six-by-six room I’m in is swathed in it. Thick bars are bolted to the tan stone, and the door has been reinforced as well. Even the bare light bulb above is caged in the metal, preventing me from breaking it and using the glass as a weapon. It’s a cell built to hold an immortal, just like my coffin, but on a larger scale.

Goosebumps tickle my skin as I make the connection, and I force myself up onto my knees, moving just to prove that I can. My weapons are gone and so is the tiny earpiece I was wearing.

Not that I expected my kidnappers to make it easy for me, but it would’ve been nice of them to leave me with something.

My thrall bonds to Draven and Finn are roiling in concern, and I reach out, trying to reassure both of them. But the fog makes it harder than it should be, like trying to reach across a vast, fathomless void.

I must make a noise in my frustration, because the tiny hatch in the door slides open, and a pair of dark eyes peer through.

They say nothing, and neither do I. After a second, the hatch slides closed once more, and I let out the breath I wasn’t aware I was holding. The loud, metallic clunk which follows echoes through the small space, and the door swings outward.

My captors haven’t used restraints, and when I look into the well-lit passage beyond, I see why. I’m so outnumbered I’d be a fool to try anything. There are easily a dozen of them. All armed with silver. All vampires.

The man who opened my cell door says something, but he’s using a language I don’t recognise. My cluelessness must show on my face, because he grumbles something, and sweeps his arm out in a universal gesture for me to leave the cell.

Thank God.

I rise to my feet slowly, trying my best not to make any sudden moves. They’ve even taken my boots, I realise, as my bare feet come into contact with the cold, stone floor.

Where are the others? The passageway is large, well-lit, and lined with more heavy doors. There’s no way to tell who’s behind which one—or if anyone is. My thralls don’t feel close by, and that worries me.

The vampires lead the way out of this hall and towards a set of stairs. I stumble a little on the uneven stone floor and take a deep breath to try to dispel the lingering fogginess from the silver.

The tunnels become larger and larger as we get farther away from what must have been the dungeon. This place—whatever it is—is military-neat. Somehow they’ve got electricity, and it’s not much of a stretch to assume they have running water as well, given the pipes and wires on the smooth stone walls.

We’ve even passed a few vampires who were dressed like civilians. Most of them have the dark, rich skin I’d expect of this part of the world, but a few are pale like me. Just how far does Samuel’s reach extend?

The implications are astounding. Somehow, Samuel has gone beyond siring just one or two other vampires. He’s created an entire underground base beyond our sire’s reach and filled it with vampires from more than one continent.

A vampire society that doesn’t have Cain at its heart is inconceivable. He’s always been the first of us, and his entire claim to ruling us is based on that fact. Younger vampires—especially those under a century old—need the guidance and discipline of an elder.

And that elder doesn’t have to be Cain.

Multiple turns and another flight of stairs later, we reach an imposing door. The man before me—the one who opened my cell—says something else, and I curse inwardly. Of all the languages I’ve learned in my immortal lifetime, how have I not heard this one? It could almost be Greek or Hebrew, but it’s not like any dialect I’ve heard before.

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