“Do it, lad,” the pale-haired man ordered. “Do it now!”
Markus walked toward Damian with his hands clenched into fists. “As I said, Voldlak, we have a score to settle.”
Damian rushed into Markus and tackled him to the ground. “Take me to Suzanne,” he growled, his voice not quite human.
His muscles tightened and his strength increased. Rush. Adrenaline rush. Always the rush before the pain. He could kill this bastard with his bare hands. But not before he found Suzanne.
He wound his hands around Markus’s neck, squeezed, and then pounded the blond head into the hardwood floor. “You fucking son of a bitch.”
“My, my,” the other man said. “I expected better from you, Markus. Dear Viveca has spoiled you rotten no doubt.” He sighed. “When you want something done right, you do it yourself.”
Damian looked up in time to see the pale-haired man reach toward him.
Then everything went black.
40
As much as it pained him to do so, Rex let Isabella go. He wanted to follow her, to make her understand, and then to kiss her senseless again, but that pleasure would have to wait. He still had files to search.
Hours later, he found what he was looking for. When he had opened the Lunar Eclipse twenty years previously, he had kept paper records of all his transactions. A decade later, he went paperless with computers and the Internet. In all that time, he hadn’t seen either MacGowan in his shop, but he had a niggling suspicion that he had forgotten something.
He was right. In his hand, he held an invoice from nineteen years earlier. The customer was Dougal MacGowan. He had purchased a book.
A book on Lycanthropy.
41
“Och, it’s about time,” Dougal said aloud as his computer finally beeped its approval. Online once again after nearly four weeks, he could check his e-mail accounts and his posts. One by one, he screened them. Lunatics, mostly.
But then…
A reply to one of his posts had been sent to him via e-mail. Dougal began to read. His heart beat faster and his stomach fluttered with butterfly nerves. It couldn’t be. After all this time…
And there was a cell phone number.
Dougal took a deep breath and fished his cell phone out of his pocket. Pulse racing, he punched in the numbers.
42
Suzanne lay on a cot surrounded by darkness. Markus?that was his name?hadn’t fed from her. The other one, Samael, had stopped him. Said she had to be untouched.
She wanted Damian. This was all her fault. If she had made the right choice and not gone with Wade…
If she had stayed with Damian…
Her heart.
Her love.
She knew now she would never leave him. She loved him. She closed her eyes, exhausted.
Several hours later, she awoke to the aroma of chicken soup. On the table next to her cot sat a tray. Suzanne rose and realized she was famished. Dark, dank air surrounded her. She had no idea what time it was or when she had last eaten. Next to the steaming bowl of soup—ugh, she was so sick of cock-a-leekie?sat a crust of bread and a sliced apple beginning to brown. In a cup was ale of some sort. Not dark enough to be Guinness, but it smelled okay. Tangy and malty.
She had eaten about half the soup—a little watery, but not too bad—when she realized they might try to poison her. Too late now, she thought, and finished the bowl, sopping the last liquid up with the bread. Brown though it was, she ate the apple, as well, washed everything down with the ale, and then lay down again, to wait for the poisonous spasms to overtake her.
A flash of light when the door to her prison opened blinded her for an instant. She recognized the young man, Markus. “There’s someone who wants to see you, wench,” he said. In his hands was a white handkerchief.
“What’s that for?”
“Can’t have you screaming, can we?”
He pushed her down the hallway and into another room. Her gasp thudded to her stomach. Shackled to the wall and gagged, naked except for his boxers, hung Damian.
Her heart lurched, and she screamed through the gag.
“He can’t get loose, lass. Those shackles are leaden. Precautions, you see. Your friend seems to have superhuman strength where you’re concerned.”
Suzanne struggled to free herself, but Markus held strong.
“There’ll be none of that, pet.” He pushed her against the wall facing Damian. “Stay there.” He turned his attentions to Damian. “A pretty thing, she is. And that body.” Markus whistled. “I can see why you like her so much.” Markus reached out and grabbed one of Suzanne’s breasts.
Damian struggled against his shackles. Suzanne tried desperately to contact him with her eyes. Don’t struggle, mo leannan. It’s okay. He didn’t hurt me.
“She looks might tasty, too. Perhaps I could sample her nectar. Would you like to watch me do that?”