Inescapable (Eternelles: The Beginning, Book 1) Read online

  The man who owned her, body and soul.

  Rafe Harcourt, Vampyre Lord.

  She froze; her first reaction any time danger closed in on her. Not something that happened often.

  Her second reaction would be to run away, but she had nowhere to hide. Nowhere he’d let her go. She opened her mouth around his name but no sound came out. She did that on purpose; held it back because, despite his very real presence, she didn’t want to acknowledge him until he spoke to her.

  “Séraphine, come with me. I’ll make sure you’ll be safe,” he simply said in that voice she recalled well while she’d disremembered William’s own earnest lilt. He’d been a man ignorant to deception and quick to command affection—yet, she’d let him go.

  Guilt arrowed through her, sharp with a poisoned point, as though she was in some way betraying a fresh memory, and she was fit for killing.

  “There is nowhere I want to go and certainly not with you,” she spat, mincing her words, while struggling to get her mind around what was happening.

  How was she going to get out of this fix? Did they know her mother wasn’t here? In a sense, she felt flattered that Rafe felt they needed six people—no, beasts—to get her to do what he wanted. Maybe he did think her that strong.

  The vampyres she could hold off, at least temporarily. The others…those were the real problem. Their shifting natures would make it difficult for her to lower their defenses, even for a little while until she managed to escape. And she definitely couldn’t leave this room in phoenix form. Burning for too long could only kill her. She might’ve lived for over a century but they didn’t know what unleashing her full phoenix powers could do to her....

  Then there was Rafe. Did she have the power or authority to bring down her maker without harming herself in the process?

  Would he go as far as to hurt her?

  Maybe he would….

  She stared at him, steeling herself against his intense gaze. He was looking at her in that way. The one that told her she was his, that he wanted her, and that what he wanted, he took. She swallowed again, this time to calm her racing pulse.

  Oh no, don’t do this to me.

  “You will cooperate. Mia cara, you have no choice in this. I’ll make sure you come to no harm,” he said, as if that would reassure her.

  What his words did, though, in particular the unwanted endearment, was send her temper flying to the tropics. That was good, because with anger came courage. Something that was second nature to her mother, but not so much to her.

  And the man needed someone to put him in his place—fast.

  “Is that so?” she said, lifting an eyebrow and enjoying the jolt of energy her whirling emotions gave her. “I think you need to learn how to speak to a woman if you want to charm her into obeying you. When did you go to school, the Middle Ages?”

  Come to think of it, he might be that old.

  His lips curved on one side in a shadow of a smile. “If I touched you right now, you’d melt in my arms and beg me to take you.”

  Her face burned with embarrassment. She chanced a surreptitious glance at the others in the room. They stared at her, but didn’t seem concerned with this conversation.

  “That’s not true.” Her voice trembled a little.

  “You know it is.”

  She took refuge in her resentment. Conceited prick. “I know nothing of the sort. In fact, I hardly know much about you, except that you take pleasure in ruining people’s lives.” And that you make my blood boil, not just with rage, but in other ways....

  Even in the dimness, she could see sparks of barely contained desire in his whiskey eyes as the reflection of the moving pictures from the TV hit them. But she didn’t have to see them; she remembered that searing gaze with surprising clarity.

  She forced her eyes downward and focused on the unique pendant hanging from a leather strap around his neck—a black oval onyx into which was set a red ruby pyramid and a yellow diamond above it. The silver setting and stones gleamed as he moved, the corded veins in his neck growing tauter. She looked back at his darkly beautiful face because she couldn’t help it.

  Then she took comfort from touching her own charm—the pendant Adri had found around her neck when Sera came into her life, and one she wore every time she set foot out of Shadow Bridge, her home. A tough shell made of seemingly indestructible material and with natural markings displaying a phoenix on fire. A fount of protection, perhaps—or simply a way to reassure herself of such. Not quite the average good luck charm, it looked as if made by nature to be more powerful and unique than the sacred shell of shells—a baro seréskeri sharkûni—so precious to the gypsy people. Her people. She briefly wrapped her fingers around it and squeezed, trying to draw from its strength.

  He cocked his head slightly to the side and commanded her attention. How easy she made it for him to glimpse into her soul. Before he took too long a peek, she closed that door firmly in his face.

  “You think me that ruthless? Perhaps I should show you that side of me….”

  She bit her lip as a multitude of retorts vied for her attention. Which one should she pick? She slayed all of them, drowned them in that part of her she didn’t want to show him—because it would make her too vulnerable, too weak. It would show him how much his words hurt her. Didn’t he think he’d caused her enough damage for more than one lifetime?

  “What do you want?” she finally asked.

  “As I said, I want you to come with me. I want you not to question me.”

  She grunted.

  Keep saying silly shit like that, and you’ll see a part of me you don’t want to see, you arrogant ass.

  How dare he speak so condescendingly to her? True, he had power over her vampyre nature, but there were other sides of her that were solely her own. He had no sovereignty there—and she’d make damn sure to keep it that way. Most importantly, he wasn’t about to march in here like a gorgeous, pompous god and boss her around. No siree, Bob, she thought scathingly, quoting old Jim, the elderly fae who maintained the lawn around her studio cottage.

  “We can all dream,” she said sardonically, crossing her legs and studying her nails—as if an air of nonchalance would get him to leave her alone. All the while, she made a superhuman effort to ignore her clammy skin and the cold sweat that started to trickle down her nape to the tip of her spine.

  Her outward reactions didn’t match how she felt, thank goodness. She barely believed how bold she sounded, yet it was only proof that this man brought out the worst in her. He left her no choice.

  “I see you’re not taking me seriously.” He straightened his back and fisted his hands, rising to his full height.

  A sight to behold. She knew that pose. She’d seen something of the sort whenever her mother got ready for a showdown, prepped to fight. As for Rafe, he was ready to truss her like a Thanksgiving turkey should it be necessary to get her out of here.

  “And why do you want me to come with you? There must be a reason for this,” she asked, stalling for time—and genuinely interested in the answer.

  Why me?

  He didn’t respond. Something shone on his face for the briefest of moments—the mark of hesitation.

  “Answer me,” she insisted.

  Perhaps if she had him linger long enough, her mother would be back in time. She always was; she always knew.

  “I see you can’t resist asking questions.” His jaw twitched, alerting her that he was fast losing patience. All hesitation or uncertainty was gone.

  “My whole life is about asking questions. You should try that someday. It helps to know why things happen the way they do.”

  He pursed his lips while his eyes shot arrows of exasperation. And now something else—the merest hint of pain, gone in a flash. His eyes darkened to a hue much like the onyx around his neck. Had she hit a nerve?

  He took a few steps closer to her, his perfectly fitted black leather jacket moving with his muscles, and black jeans hugging his well-defined thighs
, as though custom made. A biker’s wardrobe. Did he ride?

  He was dressed in black from head to toe—the color of his heart. Or of the hole where it should be.

  She stood still, refusing to back off and let the fear show. In part to still the trembling, in part to ward him off like the evil eye, she crossed her arms.

  He got even closer, too close. So much she could smell his musky cologne. His mussed, a touch long ebony hair was slightly damp and curling around his jacket collar; he must have just washed it.

  Tamping down an insane desire to touch the wayward locks—and if she reached out, she almost could—she hugged herself tighter and tensed up.

  But he wouldn’t let her look away; his eyes kept holding her prisoner.

  He smiled, totally aware of her distress and relishing every bit of it. About three or four steps away, he started to pace the room, his hands linked behind his back. An imposing figure, broad, powerful. A formidable nemesis.

  “Let’s consider what you just said,” he contemplated aloud as he turned and paced back. When he got in front of her, he gave her an unflinching look, churned with a hard glint and mock curiosity. “What would you mean by it, Sera? Questions like, why you feel more attracted to me than you ever felt to William? Why you want me like you never wanted him? These are good questions, no?”

  She uncrossed her hands and met his gaze with her ire. “You….” …selfish, selfish prick! “You’re nothing to me… nothing!”

  He gave a mirthless smile that never reached his eyes. She’d hit him where it hurt, like a kick in the groin.

  “Rotten, disgusting bloodsucker. You guys are worth your weight in garbage,” she let loose in a completely uncharacteristic way. Yes, he did bring the worst out of her.

  At that, two of the vampyres lunged at her and grabbed her by the arms, while one of the other creatures seemed to glide in front of her, getting in between her and Rafe. The sight of it tugged at her memory box. Had she read something about certain mythical beings who looked like that? Beings that drained their victims of their very soul….

  The monster’s lips curved in a wicked smile as he closed misty hands around her neck and started to morph into human shape.

  She started to scream but one of the vampyres got behind her and covered her mouth.

  “I should rip your neck out for saying that, bitch! I think we’ve waited long enough for you to do as you’re told like a good little girl,” he growled into her ear.

  The energy bustled within her now—a dark spiral that rose from her gut, and escalated until she felt like she was going to explode. Any normal person would call it ‘seeing red’ but in her case it went even beyond that. The fire became a tangible thing, a part of her. She burned.

  She struggled to get a grip as the assailant facing her tightened his now-solid fingers on her throat, like a vise. He wouldn’t have thought twice to kill her had he the leave to do so; she could see it in his bottomless pits for eyes—depths of horrific nothingness like craters to Hell.

  Her ears buzzed as anger and fear grew into an incandescent whirlpool somewhere in the control system of her mind and spread to her limbs and vital organs. Her entire body existed for one purpose at that moment—to bring out her secret nature bequeathed by one of her biological parents who passed their phoenix blood to her.

  Somewhere from a distance, she heard Rafe’s voice.

  “Stand down, now! Who gave you permission to hurt her? Who?” he demanded to know.

  As he wrung the life out of her, the monster laughed, a deep cackle, without an ounce of empathy. Clearly, this one wasn’t following Rafe’s commands. She wheezed and gagged when he squeezed harder, but she wouldn’t give in.

  Not this time, you son of a bitch.

  She set herself on fire, let the flames consume her before she turned on her attackers and concentrated on giving them a dose of their own medicine. The monsters jumped back in shock, all three of them. Her hands became masses of fire with licking tentacles, ready for her to wield them as weapons. Taking advantage of their surprise, she grabbed two of the vampyres by their throats and let the flames curl around their heads first, then, their bodies. Their tortured screams resonated as they twisted in her grasp but were unable to break free.

  It would have been futile to go for the other one. As expected, he had already turned to mist. There was no way one could burn a mass of intangible fog that would shift and break into millions of pieces before coming together again, as if nothing had happened.

  The vampyres burned, which would weaken their defenses, albeit as a mere deterrent. There wasn’t much more she could do except hold them off and hope for the best, for only fire from the one and only sun could silence them forever. She turned toward Rafe, wondering how she was going to deal with him. The flames rose higher, burning hotter at the mere thought of him.

  But the sight of him gave her pause. He stood by the bodies of the two mist creatures that were now slumped on top of each other in a gruesome, gooey heap. Dead.

  Then she moved her attention to his right hand to realize he clutched the third vampyre’s throat in a stranglehold. Stunned and off balance, she froze and struggled to keep the heat flowing. As if sensing her shock, he turned to her, never losing control of the vampyre. The planes of his face looked sharper somehow, as if chiseled from rock. His expression was fierce, almost wild. Mad. Angry.

  Deadly.

  “They tried to hurt you,” he said in a clipped tone. “They disobeyed me.”

  He made it sound like he was more upset at their mutiny than their actual actions toward her, but she knew now that wasn’t true.

  He looked back at his quarry and his eyes went cold—so cold she almost floundered and lost her grip on her two.

  He was a predator on the hunt. God forbid he ever looked at her that way.

  “Tell me now, before I reduce you to dust,” he told his prisoner. “I expressly told you that if you touched a hair on her head, I’d make you regret you ever existed. So, who gave you the orders to defy me?”

  No answer was forthcoming as the vampyre held his ground, obstinately refusing to speak.

  Rafe’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. From the way things looked, Sera fancied him downing a knob of pure rage. He looked at her again.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, concerned. He didn’t move, as though he wrestled with an inner emotion that was too strong for him. I care for you, his expression said. I won’t let anyone harm you.

  Again, she didn’t want to believe him…but what she was seeing defied all wisdom and swerved her sanity into left field.

  Rafe wanted to protect her.

  So what was he? Good or bad? A kidnapper, or a savior?

  Sera’s anger dropped from a precipice into the bottom of a murky ocean, searching for purchase, for a reason to keep that fire alive. When it found nothing to hold on to, it started to fizzle out, but she held on, knowing she was far from safe yet. The life force drained from her the more she kept going, but what choice did she have?

  “I….” she gasped, depleted. Death was not such an outlandish notion. If her mother didn’t get here soon, she was done for. “Why?”

  Why was he colluding with these monsters—evil personified?

  “I made them. I could destroy them,” he said, motioning to the other two, and either misconstruing her question or deciding not to answer it. He pushed the vampyre back into the wall without breaking a sweat. “This one’s different. He’s not mine, but I can kill him anyway.”

  With that, he reached into an inner jacket pocket and pulled out a strange looking weapon. Half stake, half dagger, made entirely of what seemed like wood.

  “It’s good to be prepared.”

  In a smooth move, he aimed it at the vampyre’s heart and stabbed him hard, burying the pale to the hilt. Now lifeless, a gurgle of blood leaching from his mouth, the vampyre slid to the floor and fast disintegrated into dust.

  “You don’t speak up, you lose,” he said
in disgust.

  Retrieving his weapon, Rafe pocketed the stake and rushed toward her as the flames started to die down, and control over her body quickly eroded. She coughed and stumbled as her breathing grew shallower. Still, she tried to hold on.

  “Let them go!” he commanded.

  It took her a moment to realize he was talking to her.

  He meant there was nothing he could do while she kept them enveloped in the flames.

  “If I…let go…you’ll…take me away.”

  “Let go now, or there’ll be nothing left of you to take!” he roared.

  She moaned as she felt herself being pulled to Death’s door. She was reaching a stage where she’d be soon lost, trapped between this world and the next. Unless…unless she was saved one more time by the only woman she knew in this world who would ever defy such an outcome.

  But time was on the verge of running out. She felt it.

  Rafe approached her, and she panicked. If he got too close, he’d burn with the others, feel the same anguish they did, and she would not manage to survive the energy absorption from three bodies. The two were damn near breaking her. A third would have her push open that unearthly door and leave this world for good.

  Her eyes met his and she wondered if they were really glossed over or whether it was just a trick of her imagination. Was that longing she saw in them?

  Of course, there was no physical desire now but something eminently more…

  She saw fear. Fear for her.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. Words that stung, in so many ways. God, so many ways.

  Just when she wavered…just when she was reaching for the exit, resigned to her destiny, a voice boomed from the door.

  “Get your hands off my daughter!”

  Chapter Three

  For a mere second, Adri froze in the doorway, the sight of her daughter tearing her heart. How dare that bastard touch her? And what in heaven’s name was the sale cochon doing here?