Betrayed in Blood (Of Blood & Dreams #6)

Sergi

Drops of tepid water slapped against hard stone, the sound echoing through the dark, dank tunnels. The wider tunnels led to a maze of narrower ones, lined with lanterns that dimly reflected the aged wooden doors, barely bright enough to ward off the lurking shadows. Behind the doors, small barren rooms carved from granite like the tunnels themselves were mostly empty.

Except for one.

In one cell, third from the end of this particular passage, the latent sound of dripping water slowly pierced the peacefulness of sleep and woke the beast. It took a moment for its eyes to adjust to the darkness. It was weak. Hungry. Thirsty. The tremors clutched its gut and sparked every nerve ending. The bone-chilling air was the only comfort as it numbed most of the excruciating pain.

But nothing tortured it more than its hunger. Its ravenous need to feed.

Sometime later, he lifted his chin from his chest and glanced through the dim light, confirming he was still alone. And he was grateful.

He let his head drop back down. A four-inch steel band, bolted to the wall on either side, stretched across his chest and was the only thing preventing him from falling to the ground. His arms were spread wide, held in place by his manacled wrists that were strapped to the wall by more steel.

Even the beast wished for the hard surface to lay on.

He wasn’t sure if he’d fallen asleep again, but his eyes popped open at the clatter of the lock on the door being released. His body tensed, preparing for the next round of torture—or worse—the tainted blood.

The door scraped along the stone floor as it was pushed open. The torchlight from the hallway cast a long shadow of the lone figure. It scurried in, quick as a rat, and closed the door.

The beast howled.

Three weeks earlier

I unrolled from my fetal position and slowly stretched my aching muscles, stiff from the cold air. Eleven months, and the chill still bothered me. Though not nearly as much as the hard surface of the stone floor, barely tolerable beneath the thin, lumpy pad.

I pushed back my unwashed hair, still expecting to feel the long, dark strands that had been sheared off when I’d first arrived. It had grown to frame my face, but even this short, it was dull and tangled. At some point, they’d chop it off again.

Accustomed to the darkness, I made my way to the bucket in the corner, lifting my knees in a highly exaggerated manner, a macabre march to start the blood flowing, grimacing as the pins and needles sensation worked its way through me. After relieving myself, I continued with my morning ritual, shuffling to a different corner to run my fingers over the scratched markings on the rock wall. I bent and picked up the small stone tucked away in an easy-to-find spot and spent several minutes scratching another mark. I ran my fingers over them as I counted and breathed a sigh, pushing back the tears I thought I’d spent months ago.

Day twenty. Bath day.

Thank god. I didn’t think I could take another day of my own stink.

After running through my exercises, I ran a filthy finger over my teeth. It was the only way to remove the film from the evening until the daily ration of water arrived with the porridge. If I was lucky, they’d include a hardboiled egg.

Even better if they assigned me to a work detail. I hadn’t been given one since my last bath day. Not after I stuck Tallon, my guard, in the neck with a fork. He didn’t die—unfortunately. But he was the floor leader, and no one questioned his right to take whatever female he wanted.

Until I said no.

I’d take the twenty days locked alone in my cell to rape any day. The fear had dissipated months ago, but I wouldn’t give up my hope or my humanity. Not yet.

The dull whack of the billy club on wooden doors brought me around to face mine, placing myself in the middle of the room, ready to defend myself. Or grab the tray the guard slipped through the slit in the bottom of the door.

The next few moments were a fifty-fifty chance of going either way.

When the bolt securing the door slid to the side, I braced myself. They didn’t come to take me for my bath until midday. Maybe I was being assigned to a work detail.

I squinted against the glare of the light as the door burst open. When the shifter came at me, I moved as quickly as I could, but there was nowhere to run in my ten-by-ten cell. It was more my well-honed instinct not to make it easy on anyone meant to harm me.

It was useless to fight, and most of the time, I played the game and appeared weak—but not with this guard. Tallon quickly caught me and slammed me against the hard stone wall. His hand gripped my neck, holding me in place, and I tugged at his fingers as he slowly choked me, my feet dangling an inch from the floor.

His breath stank as he slowly sniffed me, his body leaning into mine. “I should throw you on your mat and take what I want. I should have done it months ago. But the Master has forbidden it. Even after you stuck me in the neck.” He squeezed my breast before running his hand between my legs.

“They think they know you. That you’ve tamed down to a willing slave. That you only acted out because I wanted a taste of you.” His lips hovered over mine, then he continued his sniffing like the good hound he was. He whispered in my ear, “But I know better. They’ll have problems with you. Remember one thing, girl. The Master might have a say during the day, but he’s not here during the long, cold evenings. There are ways to hurt you that will never leave a mark.”

He let go. I dropped to the floor and clutched my aching throat, grateful for the chilled air I slowly sucked in as it numbed the pain.

“The Master has an assignment for you.” He chuckled. “And I can’t think of anyone better for the job. Now get up. You’re to eat your breakfast in the common room today.”

I scurried to my feet, unwilling to give him any excuse to hit me. Not that he needed one, but I wouldn’t lose the opportunity to get out of my cell, even for a day.

I didn’t like the sound of this new assignment, but if it kept me away from this bastard, it was enough. How simple life became when you only had one thing to worry about.

Survival.

Tallon left me with the women attendants who stripped the ragged shift from me before they pushed me into a wooden tub of cold water. I shivered as they soaped and scrubbed me with harsh brushes until my skin turned red. At least they washed my hair.

A clean shift made of rough fabric wasn’t new. It would have been scoured and bleached many times over. Old stains marred the brown fabric, giving it a mottled appearance. I gave up wondering where the stains came from long ago. Just like I’d stopped wondering if anyone would come for me, or whether they thought me dead.

The first few weeks after my capture, I’d pace my cell over and over again, fighting the claustrophobia and fear that I would never leave this hell hole. Not until I was dead. One year. Five. Longer.

Would I be the same person or forever changed? Would the self-preservation blanket I wrapped myself in morph from the terror of living in this place to fear of everything outside these barren walls? Was it possible I might escape, only to live alone, afraid of my own shadow?

I smiled as the attendants handed me the worn rubber-soled slippers. The icy air forced goosebumps to rise over my skin, and I shivered, almost laughing as they sneered at me as if I were a raging beast.

My thoughts wandered to my uncle and his words of comfort so freely given. He would stare down at me with his deep brown gaze, searching into the depths of my soul before leaning in until our foreheads touched. “You are wolf. Let no one take that away from you. She will protect you.”

So, every morning when I woke, I spoke to my wolf. It was against the rules to shift, punishable in ways I didn’t want to know. I’d heard enough as the screams echoed through the tunnels.

But sometimes, on nights when my uncle’s words couldn’t comfort me, I let the wolf come out. If nothing else, I slept warmly, until I heard the first slam of a wooden billy club hit the door at the end of the hall, and I shifted back.

“Come on, girl.” Tallon stuck his head through the open doorway. “You’re late if you want any breakfast.”

I trailed behind him as we traversed the passageways that were no longer made of rock but of drywall and painted a stark white. My slippers shuffled over pristine tile floors rather than rough stone. Cool filtered air streamed through vents and smelled of disinfectant rather than unwashed bodies, feces, and blood.

The cafeteria, where some of the prisoners were allowed to eat, was the dividing point between the cells and the labs. A thick wall of impenetrable frosted glass separated the paid lab staff from the rest of us. It wouldn’t be proper to force the privileged to look upon the slaves while they ate.

It was bad enough they might have to look upon those who were deemed safe enough to work in the labs. Not that we’d ever be entrusted with anything important, but someone had to clean the rooms or, and the thought made me shiver, become a subject for the scientists’ experiments.

Breakfast was a thick porridge, what I would usually get in my cell, in addition to scrambled eggs and a few slices of banana. I savored the coffee, which was surprisingly strong, and it warmed my bones.

I ate quietly at a table with six other prisoners. Talking amongst ourselves wasn’t permitted. The only sound was the scraping of spoons as we finished our meal.

“Shifter .” The woman’s voice was monotone as she studied a tablet. After a moment, when no one responded, she lifted her head. “Shifter .” This time her words were spoken slowly and loudly as she gazed around the room, her eyes stern and her jaw clenched.

We didn’t have names—just numbers. And it took a moment to realize she was calling out the one I’d been assigned. It had been some time since I’d heard anyone use it. I was usually called girl, or dog, or some other unpleasant curse.

I raised my hand, and two male attendants grabbed my arms and pulled me from the table. I didn’t struggle as they led me to the door where the woman stood. She looked me over, her face a mask of indifference, then nodded.

“She’ll do.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, and when I was led down a corridor with more white tile flooring, white walls, and white ceiling tiles, I wanted to squirm. Was I someone’s next experiment?

The attendants released my arms but stayed two steps behind me as I followed the woman, panic seizing my throat with the more rooms we passed until we came to a set of double doors. The woman waved her badge over a pad, and the doors slid open.

I took a step back when I saw the carnage inside, a hand flying to my mouth in a reflexive movement to keep my breakfast from returning. The attendants pushed me forward.

Blood was everywhere, mixed with lumps. A quick glance was all that was needed to know it was bits of flesh, some with short strands of hair still clinging to it.

The gore was on the floor, on the walls, and dripped from the ceiling. It had splashed over the stainless steel tables and counters. The scent was easy to recognize. Shifter flesh. The heat of the lamps and overhead lighting warmed the blood and intensified the stench.

Humans wouldn’t smell the decaying flesh as intensely as a vampire or shifter, but it would still activate the gag reflexes, as was evidenced by the woman who began breathing through her mouth.

“We need this lab spotless by tomorrow. Shifter will show you where the cleaning supplies are stored. You’ll be returned to your cell once the lab is ready for the next experiment.” She glanced at her tablet then nodded at the attendants, who stepped back.

If I weren’t so sick at the sight of the lab, I would have smiled at how pale the attendants had become.

“, come here.” The woman tapped the tablet against her leg.

A sound of scraping came from a far corner, and an older male shifter lifted his head and glanced around. Seeing the woman, he nodded and moved out from around a counter. He wasn’t very tall and was as thin as the rest of us. He walked with an exaggerated limp, but if it caused him any pain, he didn’t show it. So, an old wound.

“Yes, mistress.” His tone was submissive as he bowed his head. A good little shifter slave greeting his master.

“This is . She’ll be assisting you today.” The woman gave me a side glance, and I lowered my head. “If she works to your satisfaction, I’ll consider her for your assistant. We’ve been ordered to increase the experiments.”

I gave the woman a quick peek. Did she notice the twitch in his shoulders, the tension now riding along his back? I didn’t think so, but, as a shifter, it was possible I was the only one who would notice. For the moment, I would hold my judgment on until I spent time with him. But I would have to tread carefully.

While most of the imprisoned shifters would fight if given half the chance, some had been enslaved for too long and would defend their masters—human or vampire.

took a moment to look me over with a detached glance. “Yes, mistress.”

“I know she doesn’t look like much, but according to her chart, she listens and does what is asked of her. We’ll see if she can appropriately handle the benefit of working outside the cells.”

“Yes, mistress.” He continued to nod like a bobblehead.

“I’ll send someone to check your progress in two hours.”

The doors slid shut and the lock engaged.

turned to me, his blank expression never changing, but I saw a spark of interest in his gaze before he dropped his head. “Follow me.”