He was cold. Shivering with cold. With fear. Where were his friends? He couldn’t die this way. He couldn’t die by the hand of a vampire, surrounded by the stupid bitches who had drooled over him and then screamed and cried when he gave them what they wanted—what they deserved.
Why are you doing this to me? He wanted to scream the words aloud, but he couldn’t talk, not with the vampire ripping out his throat. Those women were nothing. Nothing at all. They were put here to be used.
That’s how you viewed my woman? As nothing?
Armend knew he’d made a terrible mistake. It was there in the soft voice moving through his mind. He couldn’t take back anything. There was no way to undo it all. The vampire could read his thoughts, and that meant he could see into Armend’s mind. He could see the truth there. He could see the ever-present need to feed off the pain he inflicted on the women. He liked the power. He craved it. He would always need it. This vampire knew it.
Make me like you, Armend whispered in his mind. I’ll serve you. We can have such fun together. Make me like you.
The vampire jerked his teeth from Armend’s throat and stepped back, eyes blazing fire. “You could never be like me. You have no honor.”
Armend stumbled back and found himself on the ground. He was weak. Very weak. The vampire stared at him as if he were no more than an insect crawling on the ground. And he had to crawl. He could barely find the strength to drag himself toward his tent.
The vampire simply watched him. The women fell silent. The wolves followed suit. The sudden hush chilled him even more than the growls from the wolves or the moans from the women. He turned to look. The skeleton faces were still there, staring from the sunken sockets where their eyes had been.
Armend’s breath caught in his throat and he paused, his fingers digging into the wet ground. Blood dripped steadily from the wound in his throat. He looked back and saw red staining the dirt and turning the tubes of fog that stretched along the ground pink.
The wolves emerged from the fog bank, glowing eyes fixed hungrily on him. They didn’t rush, they moved with precise steps, infinitely slow, almost inching their way. First their heads came through, then the necks and bodies. He looked around him. The wolves had formed a ring around him, just as the fog bank had.
He saw his mistake. He’d left the safety of the fire. He switched directions, clawing at the ground with fingernails. The sight of those nail marks in the dirt gave him pause. So many times, he’d seen those marks in the dirt where he’d dragged the woman along, her bloody body naked to feel every rock and twig, every sticker as he pulled her toward a cliff.
He clamped his hand over the wound in his throat, knowing the scent of blood called to the wolves. He could feel their eyes on him. The alpha stepped closer, head down, nose scenting the blood. The wolf drew back his lips in a snarl.
Armend looked around him, trying to get his bearings. He had knives stashed around the campsite, but he couldn’t remember where. When he looked back, the alpha was standing over him. They stared at each another for what seemed a lifetime. He felt hot breath on the back of his neck and then excruciating pain as another wolf clamped down on his shoulder and began to drag him farther away from the fire.
Armend screamed, looked toward the vampire, begging for mercy, but the vampire was gone, nothing but vapor, a fog streaking away from his campsite. He screamed for a very long time. His last thought was that he’d lasted as long as the strongest of the women he’d tortured. He wished he hadn’t.
4
Andre scouted around the mountain for signs of Costin Popescu and his followers. They had to have stayed in the ground to recover from their wounds, and that gave him a little time with his lifemate to cement their relationship. He unraveled his safeguards, entered the cave and replaced the guards. He added a warning for humans as well, just in case any of Armend’s friends happened upon Teagan’s trail.
He moved through the network of caves quickly, finding himself eager to get back to his woman. She wasn’t where he left her, nor was the fire burning. He followed her scent through a series of narrowing corridors leading deeper underground. He could see the trail of shoe prints; it looked as if she was searching for something.
Teagan sat on the floor of a small chamber, right over the spot where he’d buried his family’s treasure. She had her eyes closed. Each foot was drawn up and rested on the opposite thigh and she formed an O with her thumb and index finger. She hummed softly under her breath in a chanting rhythm.
Andre watched her for a few minutes. She didn’t seem to be aware of his presence at all, and that disturbed him. In her deep state of meditation, an enemy could easily sneak up on her. That was unacceptable to him.
“Teagan,” he said softly. “Teagan, open your eyes.”
She didn’t comply. She continued her ridiculous humming.
“Teagan, obey me.” This time he “pushed” at her, insistent on obedience.
Her long lashes lifted and she scowled at him. “You didn’t just use the word obey, did you? As if you were giving me some kind of an order?”
Andre studied her face. She was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. Right now, her eyes sparkled with what could only be a hint of temper. He’d forgotten the modern world had moved on without him. Women didn’t obey their men, even when it was for safety reasons. That didn’t bode well for either of them. He wasn’t about to allow her to put herself in jeopardy for some modern nonsense of equality.
Of course she was his equal. Well, perhaps above him. Which was the very reason he needed to guard and protect her. She was a treasure beyond any price. Clearly she didn’t get that.