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  He shoved the gurney underneath her and loosened the chains so that she lay flat with her arms still extended, before he cussed and walked out, slamming the door behind him. She heard the faint sound of his footsteps walking up the stairs right before her thoughts halted and she slid into darkness.

  * * * *

  When John reached the top of the stairs, he slammed the door with all his might, his demeanor exploding. He marched into the spare bedroom, opened the cedar trunk, and pulled out his hunting knife, the one with its gleaming serrated edge, then put it back.

  No, he was going to need to salvage her. Taking her blood intravenously was a more viable option. Besides, to make her beloved husband suffer, he had to slowly torture the love of his life. And he was going to do just that. He promised to suck the blood from her tattered and beaten body until he was covered in the crimson liquid.

  Pulling out the needle and tubing, he headed back downstairs, taking the stairs two at a time, kicking the old basketball that happened to roll in his way. Standing at the door, he pulled the key from his pocket to the secret room, the one he referred to in his mind as “the dungeon.”

  She lay passed out on the gurney, her arms still suspended above her body. He needed to take her arms down from the chains, yet keep her forcibly contained in the room. His best bet was to chain her ankle to the floor. The thought almost made him boil over with excitement.

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  Calm down. We have time to enjoy her. Lots of it. Perhaps he should fuck her first, give Jordan a little taste of his own medicine.

  He straddled her unconscious body, working carefully and methodically until he had released her from the ceiling. She didn’t move a muscle, so he checked her pulse to make sure she was still alive. Fuck.

  He was more than aware that the police were close to arresting him, and the coven members were closer to killing him, so this was his last “hurrah,” and he was determined to make it a Hollywood event. When they found Jordan’s wife, she was going to be completely drained of her blood, beaten, and chained to the floor of his dungeon. He couldn’t wait to see the shattered look on her husband’s face when he gazed at his sweet wife savagely murdered.

  Again, that warm feeling seeped into his veins.

  He scanned her body, resting his gaze on her chest. Luck was on his side because she was still breathing. With careful precision, he wrapped the cuff around her leg, then secured the chain to the cuff.

  Happy with his work, he walked over to the iron post exposed from the wall, hooked the chain, and latched the padlock.

  Ecstatic with his quick thinking, he prepped her right arm for the blood withdrawal.

  Once the first drop of blood hit the transfusion bag, he was satisfied, so he headed upstairs to have his dinner. Tonight he was celebrating, so steak and potatoes were on the menu. Oh yes, and a nice cold beer. His thoughts rested on her. Dessert.

  * * * *

  Mia flitted into consciousness and pushed to open her eyes, but her vision was blurred, and her stomach in knots. She tried to move, but her body refused. Please tell me I’m dead.

  The orientation of the room had changed. She was no longer sitting upright, and her arms were no longer suspended. She managed 206

  to will her eyes open, but nothing in her darkest nightmares could have prepared her for the vision before her. She stared in horror at the red droplets in the bag beside her. Oh my God. She wiggled her fingers, and pain shot through her as if thousands of tiny needles were embedded under her flesh. The taste in her mouth was sour, like fresh vomit. Then a scream tore through the air. Is he killing me? Is he draining me? Completely?.

  Thoughts of Jordan converged on her. She wanted to remember him if she was dying. She wanted the last thing she saw to be his handsome face crinkled up in an adoring smile, and him whispering how much he loved her. Her only wish now was that all the people in her life she loved knew her feelings for them. She had to believe they did. It would make leaving this world so much easier if she were certain. As her eyes closed and hopelessness filled her heart, she thought of the children that she would never have. In her dreams, they had hair the color of gold and eyes that matched Jordan’s. They are beautiful. I am tired. So tired…

  In the distance, the thump of feet hitting the wooden stairs joggled her memory. Her killer was coming. A cold chill traveled through her body, the feeling intensified by the metal of the gurney against the bare flesh of her back. He’d undressed her. The realization that bra and panties was all she wore brought into clearer focus her vulnerability. And she wondered the most horrible thought of all. Did he rape her? She hurt so badly all over, yet didn’t hurt in that way.

  Perhaps he hadn’t claimed that part of her yet, but soon would. She looked at the bag filling with her blood once more and prayed that she’d die long before his hands touched her intimate places.

  The sound of the key turning warned her of his approach. The click caused her heart to slam against her chest, and then with a powerful jolt, the door swung open. “So, I see you are awake, or should we say ‘coherent?’” He snarled, moving closer into her line of vision.

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  She gazed directly into his menacing, ice-blue eyes as he leaned over her. There was no remnant of humanity left in his gaze as he peered back at her. When he was inches from her face, he reached in and touched her cheek. “So, I think it’s time you and I get to know each other a little more intimately.” The smell of stale beer attacked her nostrils just before his lips fervently accosted her.

  With the small amount of strength that remained in her broken body, she violently shook her head. “Stop. No. No.” Then she bit down hard, catching his bottom lip in her teeth.

  “You fucking bitch!” he screamed and punched her in the face, splitting her lip. She sucked in a whimper as the scarlet liquid began to travel down her chin.

  A warm sensation roamed through her body once again, and the lightheadedness reclaimed her. Please stop. Please, just kill me and finish this. Again, thoughts of Jordan converged on her. If she thought about him, would it make the pain less frightening? She tried to remember Jordan’s face, the love he held in his gaze every time she walked into the room. She felt her eyes filling up with tears just remembering the memories that they’d shared. The spicy smell that radiated from his pores when he crawled into bed with her and pulled her close. It was enough, if it had to be. She could die now, never doubting his love for her. If you can hear me somehow through the space that divides us in time, I love you.

  As she teetered on the edge of consciousness, her captor bent down until his nose touched hers. With a low growl, he leaned in and licked the red liquid dripping from her lips. She tensed before she clamped her lips shut.

  He came up off her mouth and cocked an eyebrow. “So you are giving up, I see. Well, that’s good because you are going to need all of your energy for what I am going to do to you next.” With that she closed her eyes. Her blond angel waited for her, and she needed to go to him, to the world they’d created for the short time they’d been together. The loving smile of her husband was the last 208

  image that flickered across her mind as she slid into the darkness that encompassed her.

  * * * *

  Mia’s eyes opened with a start, and her body prepared to take flight when she felt the sharp stabbing pain travel down her arm.

  She’d passed out for a few seconds. It felt like someone had jammed razors under her skin. He hadn’t budged from his spot, only stood towering over her. “Oh, so I see you have decided to grace me with your presence. Good. Just in time to watch me begin to drain the blood from your other arm.” He yanked her free arm up off the gurney. With careful precision, he taped the angiocatheter to her arm.

  His demented gaze danced over his handy work.

  Obviously proud of his accomplishments, he reached down and grazed the side of her face, sending a cold chill through her body, then he snapped the tourniquet from her arm. The feeling of razor blades traveling through he
r skin sent more pain burning through her already wounded shell. “Oh God!” she screamed, while his wicked laughter echoed through the cold and musty room. Stop. Please! I can’t take anymore.

  He reached for the duct tape, pulled off a piece, and shoved it over her mouth. “Now, that should stop the screaming.” As if stalking a wounded animal, he moved toward her, his wild gaze inches from her face. “Are you scared yet, princess?”

  She closed her eyes, praying he would leave, wondering why her life still existed. Dear God, please take me. Please. She wanted it to end, cease, completely finish.

  Still laughing, he moved to the other side of the room, reaching the door in minutes. “See you later, princess. Get ready for me. I promise you that when I return, well…you are going to know me a whole lot better, if you know what I mean.”

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  * * * *

  John made sure to kick the basketball that kept jumping in his way once more before he headed up the stairs. His thoughts were dancing with scenarios of how he was going to do it to her. After all, he knew he would enjoy it, and she, well, he really didn’t give a shit what she felt. No doubt he would be forcing himself on her, since that would most likely be the only way he could fuck her.

  He was powerful, he was a god, and anyway, nobody could stop the great Dracula when he seduced and murdered his prey. What made anyone think they could stop him?

  The sound of the doorbell roused him from his thoughts and then instantly concerned him. He wasn’t expecting company. He hadn’t ordered anything over the internet, so it definitely wasn’t a delivery.

  Then who could it be? Damn! If those fucking Girl Scouts or Brownie things are at my door, trying to sell me cookies, I’m going to slit their little throats. The thought of killing a little girl excited him. Perhaps another time. At the moment he was busy killing Jordan’s wife. And another waited in the wings.

  He slowly made his way to the foyer, making sure the intruder, whoever it was, could not see him from the pane of glass on the side panel. Once he was securely hidden to the right of the door, he peeked around, and to his amazement, the front porch was bare. His astonishment soon spiraled into anger, and he shoved himself back against the wall. Did someone feel the urge to play tricks with him?

  Oh, not today, he was in no mood to play with the outside world. He had much to do right inside the comfort of his own home.

  Raking his hands through his short and spiky black hair, he turned to head back downstairs to his blood doll in waiting, when the front door came crashing open, throwing shattered glass all over the front foyer.

  He stood dazed and confused as Chief Joey Jasperillo and three undercover cops from the Henderson Police Department converged 210

  on him. Chief Jasperillo reached for his handcuffs, and in a sweeping motion, came down with fury on John Ennisbrooke.

  “You piece of shit, lowlife scum!” he yelled through tightly clenched teeth, pushing the cuffs tighter on John’s wrists.

  John laughed.

  Chief tightened his grip. “I wouldn’t laugh if I were you. Now where is Mia De L’croix, you piece of shit?” Mere seconds after the words came out of the chief’s mouth, Jordan stormed through the doorway. With his free hand, Jasperillo grabbed Jordan, holding him steady until another officer could take John from his grasp.

  Jordan turned hard, cold, lifeless eyes on Ennisbrooke. “Where is my wife?”

  John struggled in the tight grasp that kept him immobile. Raising darkly rimmed eyes, he glared at Jordan. “Oh, I think you’re too late, my friend.”

  Jordan let out a shrill before he moved faster than seemed possible across the foyer. Just as he was about to cup his hands around Ennisbrooke’s neck, one of the officers yelled from the basement,

  “Hey, there is some kind of secret room down here.” Instantly, Jasperillo flashed Jordan a look, reached into Ennisbrooke’s pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He handed the man over to another officer and took off downstairs. Jordan narrowed a cold, murderous look at the man standing handcuffed against the wall.

  “Ennisbrooke, if you hurt my wife in any way, I am coming back up these stairs and snapping your fucking neck.”

  * * * *

  Please, Mia, be alive. Please. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being hurt or worse. And now, he had put her life in more danger than he could have ever thought possible. His stomach churned. The closer

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  they got to the basement, the rancid, musty smell of death filled his nostrils.

  Coming off the last step, he scanned the narrow cellar for evidence, quickly spying the secret door within seconds. Both men exchanged glances as the chief reached into his pocket. He pulled out a set of keys quickly and fumbled with them on the ring until he found the right key.

  “Please, Chief, hurry, please!” Jordan begged, praying that his wife was still alive. He swallowed against the boulder lodged in his throat.

  “Stay calm, Jordan, we are minutes from her,” the Chief promised, yet his voice reeked of uncertainty. He narrowed his gaze as he pushed the key forward. Before he could turn the lock, Jordan knocked him out of the way and slammed against the door. The Chief took his cue and on the second body slam, the door splintered open.

  The Chief lunged for Jordan before Jordan’s mind had a chance to process the scene in front of him.

  Paralyzed by a fury of fear and anger, Jordan scanned the room.

  The metallic smell of dried blood was everywhere. Metal chains hung from the ceiling. It was only when his vision took in the silhouette of the limp female body hooked with IVs did his voice return.

  “Oh my God!” He bulldozed over the chief. “Mia, baby,” he whispered in a cracked voice, coming up beside her.

  She lay still. Her skin no longer held the radiant glow that it once did. Instead, her body was laced with deep gashes and bruises. Oh no.

  Through the tears welling up inside him, fury began to spiral. “Get the paramedics down here now! Get this shit off her now!”

  “Jo–r–dan?”

  He put two strong hands on either side of the gurney and leaned down close to her face.

  “I’m here, darlin’.” He kissed her forehead, wanting desperately to take away her pain, the pain he caused. “I’m so sorry, Mia.” 212

  She flinched. “It hurts.” Tears flowed down her face, spilling onto his hand.

  I am going to kill that motherfucker. Turning scathing eyes to the door, he yelled, “Where are the fucking paramedics?” He wanted to rip her away from the torture chamber that surrounded her, but she needed medical personnel, but until they showed up, he could try and removed the duct tape from her arms and legs.

  “Chief,” he yelled and then turned to scan the room, “do you have a knife—I need to get this damn tape off her.” The chief grabbed his knife and launched it across the room.

  Jordan reached up and caught it with one hand. “Thanks.” Just as he removed the last piece of tape from Mia, paramedics stormed the room.

  He intended to step to the side while they worked, but his plan cut short when she reached out and placed a cool finger to his hand.

  “No—please stay with me.”

  “You bet, sweet thing. I will stay right here with you.” The aroma of her coconut shampoo caught a hold of his senses. In that moment all he wanted to do was reach down and nuzzle his face in her hair, pull her up into his arms, and never let her out of his sight. Ever again.

  The paramedics worked fast, disconnecting the IVs from her as gently as they could, and even their attempts seemed painful. The massive bruising from the needle marks had already begun to appear on her pale flesh. Jordan stared at her bruises with a new fury.

  When the second and final needle was removed, she screamed in agony as if razor blades were shooting through her limbs. He glared at the paramedics, ready to snap their heads off. “What the hell did you do? Be careful!”

  With his brow pulled tightly, the lead paramedic glanced up at Jordan. “Sir, I’m sor
ry—but your wife’s shoulders are dislocated as well.”

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  What the fuck! He glared at the medical professional before he turned to scan the room. When he honed in on the additional chains lying on the ground, near the one that was still connected to his wife’s ankle, a new rage birthed itself inside him. Then the two metal hooks above her body came into focus.

  “Son of a bitch. I’m going to kill him.” Chief Jasperillo immediately tensed, then stopped his surveying of the room before he glanced Jordan’s way. “What is it?” he asked, carefully placing the evidence he collected against the small table by the door.

  He stared with angst at the hooks that previously hugged his wife.

  “That piece of shit suspended my wife from the ceiling with chains!” And suddenly, as if a steam roller had just run over him, he remembered the night terrors that she suffered from the past few months. The dreams of being suspended from a meat hook in some strange warehouse. The nights she woke in a cold sweat, her fingers clinging to his chest for dear life. He couldn’t protect her from her own dreams, and now those dreams had materialized. That man upstairs would get no trial, not in his lifetime. Before anyone could stop him, he took off out of the room, running full speed ahead to kill the man upstairs.

  He reached the top step in a matter of seconds, his goal clear.

  Snap that fucker’s neck. The door was ajar, so he stepped into the foyer, where Jamison stood with both arms shot out in front of Ennisbrooke.

  “Jamison, get the hell away from him! His time has come—that motherfucker is dying now!” Without thinking twice, he closed the distance between him and Jamison, catching Jamison’s hands as they shot out, pushing him backward.