Luukas was jolted back to consciousness as a searing pain tore through his abdomen. His eyes shot open to see a long silver blade carving through the layers of skin and muscle, splitting him open like a gutted deer. Hanging by the wrists as he was, he could do nothing but watch in horror as warm blood gushed down the front of his dirty jeans, soaking through the material to stick to the bare skin beneath.
His fangs punched down in defense, a loud hiss escaping him as he threw his head back, gritting his teeth against the pain. Half a second later, fire burned through the same path as the blade before it, the stench of his own burning skin making his stomach heave. He struggled not to scream, but the hoarse sound ripped from his raw throat against his will, the agony too much for him to bear in silence. The flames sizzled inch by slow inch across his stomach, cauterizing the wound.
His dislocated shoulders jutted grotesquely through his skin as he twisted his torso back and forth, trying to escape the flames, but the silver manacles around his wrists held fast to the wall above his head. Just when he thought he was going to pass out again, it stopped, leaving behind a dull throbbing ache from his ribcage to his hip. He sagged on his chains, sucking in ragged breaths, praying to all the gods that he would pass out again.
Or better yet, that he would just die already. Die a vampire's true death.
“He’s awake now, mistress.”
At the sound of that sniveling voice, Luukas struggled to lift his heavy head. He detested that voice. Peering through the slits of his swollen eyes, he attempted to locate the source of it, and found it directly in front of him in the form of a young, dark-skinned, male vampire: young in both human and vampire years.
Their eyes met and held, and the young one’s own grew wide at what he saw. The piece of shit stumbled backwards, the flaming torch he’d pulled off of the wall and used on Luukas falling from his hand to land with a soft thump on the dirt floor. The long, bloody knife he held in the other hand joined it with a clatter a moment later.
Maybe he was surprised that Luukas could still focus on him. Maybe he saw his imminent death in the soulless, black eyes that now had him on their radar. Whatever it was, it caused him to impatiently ask the person on his left, “May I please leave now, mistress?”
He must have been granted permission, for he hightailed it out of the room, practically running for the open door and heading towards the stone stairway across the way.
Luukas’ vehement stare followed him across the room, his lip curling up in a sneer when the coward dared to peek back at him over his shoulder. He paled beneath his dark skin when he saw that Luukas was still tracking him, and he kicked it into vamp speed, disappearing up the stairs.
Luuk’s eyes skittered back across the room after he was gone, coming to rest on someone else huddled in the corner, as far away from him as they could get. He winced as he blinked his raw eyes, trying to focus through the sweat running into them, but he couldn’t get a clear view, there were too many shadows from the flickering light of the torches on the walls.
He had a vague feeling that he should know that cowering form, but he was so tired. His head fell forward onto his chest, only to jerk upright again almost immediately. Something pulled his attention to that corner, no matter how he tried to ignore it.
He studied the person again. He could just barely make out a small form with long, dark hair, but little else, as she kept her head down. And it was definitely a she. He could see that even through the blanket she held wrapped tightly around herself.
Did he know her? He tried to remember, but his thoughts were so disordered, jumping around randomly in his head. He couldn’t seem to concentrate on any one thing for more than a few seconds at a time.
Gradually, through the haze of his pain, he began to notice other things.
He was in a large, dimly lit room dug from the earth; a cell of sorts, with no windows. The smell of wet earth was heavy in the air, coating the back of his throat, and a consistent drip, drip, drip off to his right tantalized him with the promise of water. He tried to wet his cracked lips with his sandpaper tongue. He was so thirsty.
Where the fuck was he? What was he doing here? His head pounded as he tried hard to remember.
Suddenly, he sensed a darker entity in the room. He could practically feel the evil oozing through the air towards him. Tearing his eyes from the girl in the corner, he rolled his head to the other side until he was able to focus on the female slithering towards him from the opposite direction.
Her blood-red eyes flashed as she met his gaze, a pleased smile curving her lips.
“Leeha,” he rasped.
Memories crashed mercilessly into his head, banging around his skull until he groaned from the impact.
He remembered now.
Seven Years Ago
He’d left his apartment in Seattle to go meet with Leeha, alone, a female vampire who’d been adopted into his colony, and who’d decided to leave of her own accord to form one of her own, after he’d rejected her amorous overtures.
She'd continued her propositions towards him even after she'd left, doing everything she could think of to try to convince him to do the unheard of - mate with another vampire. It was a ludicrous idea. Vampires couldn't sustain one another. One half of the couple always needed to be a human. There was no other acceptable match for their kind. Whenever two vampires tried to mate, the fighting and jealousy that ensued from the need to feed on others, on humans, inevitably tore them apart, often violently. Vampires were way too territorial to share their significant other, and feeding was way too intertwined with the need for sex.
They were also too possessive to share their hard-won territory, even with a prized mate.
He’d agreed to meet with her because he'd wanted to convince her once and for all that although she was free to form her own settlement if she so chose, he was never going to combine hers with his and rule alongside of her. A harsh reality she was having trouble accepting.
His brother, Nikulas, had tried to make him stay, or at least to take someone with him, but he’d stubbornly…stupidly…refused, insisting on going alone.
Driving north to the Canadian border, he’d easily “persuaded” the officials there that his passport was legit, and passed through without a problem. Less than thirty minutes later, he’d pulled off the main road towards Leeha’s mountain fortress.
It’d never crossed his mind that he’d be driving into a trap, or at least not one that would ever actually work. He was one of the most powerful vampires of his time, and was, therefore, invincible.
Or so he'd believed.
Foolishly, he’d underestimated the danger he’d been in. Never in a million years would he have thought that Leeha would manage to find a way to harness him, a Master vampire. Her Master, until she’d banished herself, taking every young, besotted male in his colony along with her.
But not only had she managed to harness his power, with a little help, she’d managed to keep him in this hellhole against his will for…he had no idea how long now. Days? Months? Years?
In the beginning, she’d kept him confined to an opulent room directly next door to hers. He’d tried every mental and physical power he possessed to escape, all to no avail. It was like he’d become human again.
She’d laughed at his efforts, and tried to convince him, both with her words and her body, to see things her way. He’d refused over and over, rejecting both her ideas and her offering of herself, adamantly demanding that she release him. Even with the evidence proving otherwise, he’d arrogantly refused to believe that anyone could get the best of him. She’d responded to his stubbornness by refusing him blood to drink, starving him and debilitating him even more. He hadn't worried overmuch, even then, as he knew his brother would come looking for him when he didn't return home.
Then had come the day she’d finally lost her patience with him. Barging into his room, she’d charged over to where he sat on the floor in the corner, arms resting on his drawn-up knees, head down. She’d appeared quite remorseful, even as she’d given him one last chance to redeem himself and agree to be with her, before he forced her to take more drastic measures.
He’d slowly raked his eyes up her body, taking in her delicate high heels, her long legs and full breasts barely concealed in a black, gossamer gown, her graceful arms and long, thick, red hair. Her haunted, blood red eyes had been luminous with unshed tears, but were steady in her conviction of what she must do if he refused her.
Luukas had smiled at her warmly, and watched her expression turn to one of tentative relief.
Hope had shone from her eyes, and the corners of her full lips had turned up into a hesitant smile. Clasping her hands together in front of her with joy, she’d stepped closer, holding them out to him.
Ignoring her outstretched hands, Luukas had pushed himself up off of the floor, slowly straightening up to his full height.
As he’d towered over her, uncertainty had flashed briefly across her face before her smile reappeared full force. “Have you finally changed your mind then, my love?”
“Leeha,” he’d purred, “I would sink my dick into a stinking, rotting corpse before I would fuck you.”
The sound of her slap had echoed through the room, merging with her screech of rage. “You bastard!” Visibly fighting for control, she’d taken a deep breath. “You will regret this, Luukas Kreek. I am about to make your life so excruciatingly painful; you’ll wish you were a rotting corpse. But have no doubts, you will be with me, one way or the other, even if I have to forcibly keep you here. Forever.”
Luukas had smiled as she’d screamed for her freakish guards, and continued to smile as they’d lurched into the room, their putrid smell making him gag as their long, yellow claws dug into his arms and they’d dragged him from the room.
His brother would appear any moment, he was certain.
Current Day
A slithery touch on his cheek brought him reeling back to the present, his skin crawling at the contact. He jerked his face away in disgust.
“Still so stubborn,” Leeha sighed. “How long must we do this, Luukas?” Her richly accented voice placed the emphasis on the last syllable of his name, as it was pronounced in her home country.
He kept his head turned away, struggling to stay conscious, refusing to speak to her, or to so much as look at her. He was so tired, the endless agony he was being forced to endure draining the life from him.
“Luukas, look at me,” she demanded. “Luukas!”
Another heavy sigh escaped her when he stubbornly wouldn’t heed her order; this battle of wills the only power he still had.
“Keira! Come here,” she called impatiently.
Keira?
Why did that name sound so familiar? He heard a shuffling from the corner, as the girl there took a few steps forward, then stopped.
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t make me do this.”
Her voice…it was like that of an angel, and a wave of calmness washed over him, the blackness threatening again within the unexpected peace.
He fought it back, needing to stay alert. He wanted to hear the angel speak again.
“I said, COME!” Leeha’s shrill shriek rang harshly through the small cell, making him wince.
He heard a quiet sob as the girl inched her way towards them, finally coming to stand next to Leeha. An urgent feeling of protectiveness hit him suddenly, and he frowned, confused.
“Now,” Leeha ordered. “Make him look at me.”
“I don’t want to do this,” the girl insisted.
Seconds ticked by. He heard the girl swallow hard, and then his head was moving against his will. He ground his teeth together and tried to keep it where it was, but nothing he did kept it from turning, until he was facing Leeha and the girl next to her.
Not the girl. The witch.
She stood before him, one hand raised, effortlessly directing the movement of his head. Her large, hazel eyes filled with tears as they met his.
At the sight of that lovely face, Luukas lunged forward, fangs bared in a loud hiss. Ignoring his screaming muscles, he threw himself at her, snapping his teeth within inches of her pale skin.
With a startled cry, she threw up her other hand to join the first, palms out.
Luukas let out a roar as he was slammed back into the wall by an invisible force. He desperately tried to break her hold, the sight of her alone succeeding at doing what the knife and torch hadn’t; made him want to fight.
“Please stop!” she cried out. “You’re only hurting yourself more!”
“You fucking bitch!” he bellowed.
Madness threatened as he roared at his own helplessness. She was the reason he was here. She was the one keeping him here. It was her fucking spells making him so weak, allowing them to starve him, beat him, slice him open…even burn him without incinerating him.
He was going to rip her apart, piece by bloody piece, if it was the last thing he ever did.
