Blood Torn

An utterly addictive lycan romance

Lindsay J. Pryor

Bookouture

For Moth

With very special thanks to:

Anita and Christine

For keeping your faith in this story ever since New Voices.

Lesley and Rhyannon

For helping me believe I could do this.

My amazing team of supporters, especially:

Tracey, Fiona C, Kelly, Aimee, Fiona W, Jane, Linzi, Tima and Incy.

And not forgetting Oliver/Bookouture for continuing to believe in this series and making this such a fantastic journey.

1

This was not good. This was not good at all.

Just when she thought the night couldn’t have got any worse, Jask Tao walked into the equation.

Sophia glowered into the lycan leader’s exquisite azure-blue eyes, his dark lashes a sharp contrast to the untamed fair hair that fell around his defined, stubbled jaw.

‘You need to let me go,’ she said, as he remained crouched in front of her at eye level, his firm grip on her jaw as unrelenting as his gaze.

‘And why would I want to do that?’

It undoubtedly sounded like a ludicrous suggestion, surrounded as she was by four lycans, her outstretched wrists roped to the rusted rings embedded in the dank, subterranean walls. But she said it anyway. ‘I’m warning you – you’re making a mistake.’

He examined her pensively – those uncompromising eyes betraying his angelic, albeit rugged, appearance. He let go of her jaw and stood up, his candlelit shadow looming on the moss-encased walls of the ruins.

It had been three days since Marid had abducted her – ambushed her. The sleazy vampire knew about The Alliance. And if word was out there about the covert operation, the others were at risk too. She’d already wasted the time Marid had held her hostage, let alone the past three hours she’d been trapped down there since he’d sold her on. She needed to get back to the rest of the group. She needed to warn them.

But more than that, more than anything, she needed to find out what the hell was going on with her two sisters.

She glanced at the two dead vampires lying on the stone-slabbed floor ahead – the vampires that had bartered with Marid over her like she was nothing. Her skin crawled as she thought back to the way they’d grinned conspiratorially at each other as they’d tied her to the wall. And she’d known from the malicious look in their eyes, let alone the conversation they’d had whilst drinking and laughing at the table, they’d planned far more than just a feed.

But the events that had followed had been a surprise to everyone.

She’d realised what had happened the minute the shock had subsided. There was only one explanation – only one type of blood that killed a vampire that quickly and that painfully: serryn blood.

She sure hadn’t been a serryn before she’d entered that chamber – the leech, Marid, had proven that point. But the evidence spoke for itself – the vampires’ bodies now twisted and contorted from biting into her, her blood having imploded every one of their veins. It had taken only seconds for her toxic blood to penetrate their systems.

She knew only too well from her research that only serryns caused that reaction – a rare bloodline of witch long thought extinct. Just as she knew there was only one way anyone not born a serryn would become one – the so-called curse jumping from an older sibling to a younger one if the former committed either of the two serryn taboos: suicide by their own hand, or falling in love with and consummating that love with a vampire. Right then, both ideas seemed as implausible as her big sister Leila being a serryn in the first place.

If the indisputable proof hadn’t been plain in front of her, she would have laughed off the possibility. Now she needed to know exactly what was going on. Forget The Alliance’s rules about no outside contact – this was family. Not only was her little sister, Alisha, in trouble, but now seemingly so was Leila.

Which meant, even more so, that she had no time to waste on lycans.

She glowered back up at Jask.

Feet braced apart, hands low on his lithe hips, she had no doubt his stature was imposing enough when stood eye-to-eye with him. The last thing she needed was her forced submissive position on the floor exacerbating it.

It wasn’t helped by the fact she knew more about the uncomfortably good-looking lycan than just his zero-tolerance leadership – he was bad-tempered, temperamental, and fiercely protective of his pack. And – though it was irrelevant it slipped into her mind anyway – rumoured to be proficient in bed. He was certainly well-equipped enough to live up to his reputation – his jeans temptingly fitting those solid thighs, his biceps distractingly taut through his shirt, those rolled-up sleeves exposing well-toned forearms. She lingered over the brown leather straps wrapped around his wrists, matching the ones around his neck, a small platinum pendant nestled in the hollow of his throat.

She glanced at the other lycan beside him: Corbin Saylen – Jask’s second in command, with a reputation as equally uncompromising. He had a presence all of his own, stood there, arms folded, his grey eyes locked on hers.

But then, when you were one of the minority third species in Blackthorn, you had to have a reputation to survive.

‘Get in here and tell me what happened,’ Jask demanded, summoning the two lycans from beyond the doorway.

The one she knew to be Rone entered first. On appearance they had to be twenty years younger than Jask – but it was as impossible to tell with lycans as it was with vampires. Rone and his comrade, Samson, had deliberated over what to do with her for the best part of an hour after gatecrashing the vampire feast gone wrong. They’d paced the room, arguing over whether to just leave her there. Despite having tried to barter with them, she’d seen their faces and that was finally enough for them to relent into calling for backup. Backup being Corbin and, from what she had picked up from overhearing their panicked phone call, and despite their protests, Corbin deciding to inform Jask.

‘We were across at the warehouse,’ Rone stated. ‘We heard the noise she was creating so came out to look. She was putting up a hell of a fight.’

‘And then?’ Jask asked.

‘We saw them bring her down here.’

‘And knowing you never interfere in vampire business, you walked away,’ Jask added, the disapproval emanating in his eyes.

‘We were going to,’ Samson said.

‘But it was two on one,’ Rone interjected. ‘They were getting violent with her.’

Jask looked back at Sophia, but she knew he wasn’t looking at her – he was examining the evidence of the cuts and grazes on her face. ‘The vampires do their thing, we do ours,’ he said, looking back at Rone and Samson.

Sophia raised her eyebrows at the indifference in his words. Seemingly his reputation as a heartless bastard was equally justified.

‘That’s the only way the segregation works and you know it,’ he added. ‘We have enough to do in protecting our own, without trying to save every helpless victim in this district.’

She nearly protested at the victim remark, but resolved to keep her mouth shut. All that mattered was getting loose.

‘We thought she was just a girl,’ Rone explained. ‘What did she do to them? I’ve never seen vampires go down that fast. It was all over within minutes.’

‘Just be grateful your discovery is sufficient enough to save me ripping into you right now. What were you doing on this side of the district?’

The two youths glanced nervously at each other.

‘We had a deal going,’ Rone declared, instantly dropping his gaze to the floor in response to Jask’s thunderous glare.

‘A deal? With vampires?’ he asked, distaste exuding from his tone.

After a moment’s hesitation, Rone gave a single nod.

Jask exhaled with exasperation. ‘So there’s someone who knew you were here?’

‘What if they think this was something to do with us?’ Samson asked, echoing the line of thought that had no doubt provoked Jask’s further irritation with them.

He took two steps towards them. ‘This is why you don’t come here. This is why you stay in Northern territory. This is why we’re going to clear up this mess and get you back to the compound so I can deal with you properly.’

He removed something from his back pocket, flicked open a switchblade that glinted in the candlelight as he turned to face her.

Sophia braced herself as he expertly sliced through the ropes that bound her arms to the wall. She barely had time to rub her throbbing wrists or rotate her aching shoulders before he’d grabbed her by the upper arm and tugged her to her feet as if she was weightless.

‘Corbin, get her up to the bikes,’ he said, shoving her towards him. ‘We’ve spent too long here already.’

She was a little unsteady for a moment, but quickly regained her balance as Corbin wrapped a firm hand around her upper arm.

She refrained from struggling, knowing she stood a hell of a better chance one-on-one against Corbin if Jask and the other two remained distracted for long enough.

As Corbin led her towards the door, Jask stepped over to the table to pick up what was left of a bottle of whisky and the remains of one of the burning candles. It took no imagination to work out how he planned to get rid of the bodies, especially all traces of serryn blood.

Corbin tugged her out into the corridor before she could see any more.

His eyes were fixed ahead, his grip on her arm unrelenting as she tried to match her strides to his. His shoulder-length hair blew in the mild breeze as they turned the corner. Tall, broad and with the lithe strength of all lycans, they may have been no match on appearance, but she’d taken down bigger than him.

Just as she’d take Marid down when she caught up with him again. Because she would. And the sharper the object she used to say what she had to say, the better.

The stone corridor seemed endless. She hadn’t seen much of it on the way there – she’d spent too long slamming her heels or fists into every available inch of soft flesh on the two vampires who had dared to drag her down there.

The stairwell, when they eventually reached it, was as narrow as she remembered, her knees having scraped against stone as one had held her legs, the other restraining her arms around her as they’d carried her bucking and protesting down there.

Now Corbin pushed her up ahead of him, his size forcing him to be more behind her than next to her, but he didn’t let go of her arm.

As soon as she saw moonlight on the steps, she tried to yank her arm free. ‘You’re hurting me.’

‘Then keep moving.’

‘Seriously,’ she said, stopping abruptly. ‘Just give me a second, okay?’ She wrenched her arm from his as she feigned weakness. ‘I don’t feel too good.’ She slid down the wall to collapse onto the steps.

He let go of her just for a second.

It was what she needed.

She snapped her head towards the top of the stairwell and faked a look of shock. As she’d hoped, it was enough to evoke his curiosity – a luxury of a split second when his eyes were averted from her.

With both hands she grabbed his lower leg and yanked with every ounce of strength she had left.

Corbin’s startled gaze met hers as he slammed his hands onto either side of the wall to brace himself.

It granted her another split second to slide along to the middle of the step, to pull back her leg before slamming her foot hard into his groin.

He instinctively bent over double and lost balance. He tumbled backwards, but she didn’t stop to watch.

She turned and clambered up the remaining steps, her thighs heavy as she struggled to her feet to take the last few steps two at a time.

She heard Corbin’s voice echo up the steps behind her – one single call: ‘Jask!’

She fell up the last step, her palms scuffing concrete. The dark and barren wasteland loomed ahead – nowhere to hide for at least seventy feet to where the outline of some old factory buildings lay in the distance against the overcast night sky. She had to get to them. Hiding was no use with the lycans’ proficient sense of smell, but something would be there that she could use to defend herself. Damn it, the outskirts of the east side of Blackthorn were renowned for their reclusiveness.

Like a runner at the start of a race, she lunged forward, taking off with as much speed as her aching body would allow. She kept her attention firmly on the closest building, her eyes blurring against the cold night air, the terrain rough and uneven beneath her boots.

She told herself not to look over her shoulder, not to dare lose her pace for one moment, but instinct overwhelmed her.

She turned to see an outline closing in on her from maybe only forty feet behind.

Her heart lunged and she ran faster, her throat parched and constricted. She ignored the shooting pains in her chest, the laceration of agony in her side that under any other circumstances would have forced her to stop.

But common sense screamed in her head – she couldn’t outrun a lycan even on the best of days. She had to conserve what little energy she had left if she ever wanted to escape.

She forced herself to stop despite her instincts urging her to keep running.

She struggled to catch her breath in the few seconds she had as she turned to face Jask coming to a standstill a few feet away.

He clearly hadn’t expected her to stop. The dance of amusement in his eyes almost masked the irritation, had the latter not exuded from him so intensely. ‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough fights for one night?’

‘I’m not going with you,’ she said through annoyingly ragged breaths.

He raked her swiftly with his gaze. ‘So you seem to think.’

‘Walk away, Jask, and save yourself the trouble.’

She could have sworn she saw another glint of amusement in his eyes.

‘Walk to the shed over there with dignity,’ he said, cocking his head over his shoulder. ‘And we can forget you tried to run on me.’

‘I have a better idea. Go join your puppies and bike it back to your Northern pound. You’ve got no business being here. And you’ve got no business with me.’

He took a few steps closer. ‘I’ll let that first comment go, on account of it being a stressful night for you. But as I’m making what’s in those veins my business, you either be a good girl and do as you’re told or I’ll be a bad lycan. Your choice.’

The sincerity in his tone, the slight darkening in his eyes, made her stomach jolt and, to her distaste, not just with apprehension. She rolled back her shoulders, preparing herself for battle. ‘You’ve got to get to it first.’

He raised his eyebrows slightly, only this time a smile escaped – a stunning, fleeting smile that ignited those azure eyes and annoyingly only enhanced his handsome face further. He rested his hands back on his hips. ‘Seriously?’

It was one mocking look too much.

She closed the gap just enough to lift her leg with lightning speed, less than an inch from making impact with his chest before he moved his foot just as swiftly, swiping her other leg from under her, causing her to hit the floor.

Leaning back on braced arms, she stared up at him; not so much as a hint of a glitch in his composure.

It was a move she’d developed to perfection, and he’d kicked it from her as if it was nothing. His self-assurance riled her as she looked squarely into his unperturbed eyes.

Feeling an alien flush in her cheeks, she moved back slightly to forge some distance between them before getting to her feet.

She was going to wipe the smug look off his face.

But as she lifted her leg again, he knocked it aside, as he did her right fist and then her left as she tried twice to strike him.

Since she’d joined The Alliance, Zach had taught her everything she needed to know about one-on-one combat – if not to take an opponent down completely, then at least long enough to get away.

She paused for only a split second before increasing the onslaught, hitting out at him with clean and precise moves, only to have him fend them off swiftly and accurately before knocking her leg from under her again.

She fell back down, brushed her hair from her eyes in irritation before glowering up at him.

‘You’ve spent too long fighting vampires, honey,’ he said.

The playful challenge in his eyes incensed her. The mocking in his tone, the derision in his eyes, triggered her indignation more.

She knew better than to fight unless she was in complete control of her temper but this was now just as much about pride as escaping. Instead of taking the moment she needed to escape, she got back to her feet.

She picked up pace, using every move she had been taught in quick succession, catching him several times but never with enough force or at the right angle to make any impact.

‘Are you scared to fight me?’ she demanded, frustrated by his purely defensive moves.

‘You want to exhaust yourself, you go ahead.’

She sped up, increasing the speed of her moves, adrenaline pumping as she went at him harder. He missed a couple of her shots, allowing her to make impact with his chest and knee, but it was nowhere near enough to take him down. She knew she was being less precise, fuelled by her anger rather than tactics.

And this time, when he kicked her legs from under her, he purposefully went down on top of her.

She lifted her knees nimbly against her chest, ready to use the remaining strength in her thighs as leverage to force him off her, but he instantly closed the gap. He forced her thighs to part either side of his hips, spreading her legs further with the power of his, locking her ankles down to the ground with his own at the same time as pinning her arms to the ground either side of her head.

Despite the futility, she tried to writhe and buck beneath him, but not one inch of his hard, tensed body was moveable.

Gasping, she let the back of her head hit the ground, panting as she looked up into his eyes, every inch of her resounding in umbrage at her helplessness.

‘Done?’ he asked, the calm in his eyes infuriating her as much as the effortlessness with which he held her to the floor.

She tightened her hands into fists. ‘Get off me,’ she all but growled.

‘Are you done?’ he repeated, his tone taking on an impatient edge that escalated her agitation.

She defiantly held his gaze, feeling every inch of the power behind his body, the heat emanating between them. As he watched her a little too intently for comfort, mesmerising her with his quiet confidence, she felt another unfamiliar stirring. ‘If it means you’ll get those feral hands off me, yes, I’m done.’

She grudgingly stilled as she awaited his response; gazed at the masculine lips that hovered inches from hers before looking back into his eyes.

He lowered himself a few inches, his biceps straining distractedly against his shirt. ‘Vampires might bite, honey, but lycans tear. You might want to bear that in mind next time you try and take me on.’

With only another moment’s linger on her gaze, he released her wrists, eased off her, grabbing her arm to pull her to her feet along with him.

‘You don’t know what you’ve got yourself into,’ she declared, unable to suppress her indignation.

‘You can tell me all about it back at the compound,’ he said, only to hoist her up over his shoulder.

Her cheeks flushed from the blood rushing to her head, let alone the humiliation. ‘Put me down!’ she demanded, slamming a fist into his back as she tried to kick at his groin.

Her retaliation only evoked him to hold her tighter though, her clenched fist barely having any impact on his solid back.

She glowered down at the ground that swayed beneath her, forced her elbows into his back to regain some kind of control, but they reached the shed in no time.

He slid her down onto her feet, catching her forearm as she stumbled with the motion.

Rone and Samson were already helmeted up and astride their motorbikes in the far corner.

Corbin stood nearer by, his arms folded as he smirked in amusement at Jask. ‘She’s going to be a lot of trouble. Are you sure she’s worth the effort?’

‘You know me – I love a challenge. Taming could become my new favourite pastime,’ Jask said, tugging her over to the nearest motorbike. He unhooked something from the seat, and turned to clasp one cuff of the handcuffs over her right wrist.

He lifted the helmet off the seat and shoved it on her head, before guiding her astride his motorbike. Sitting in front of her, he pulled her other wrist around his taut waist, cuffing her hands together at his lap, the position forcing her intimately against his back.

She clenched her hands and fought against leaning against him. But she was given no other option as Jask revved the engine.

Sophia quickly found somewhere to rest her feet and braced herself just as they sped off, kicking up dust behind them.

2

Sophia held on tight as Jask’s bike ripped through the barren outskirts of the east side of Blackthorn, the wasteland and abandoned warehouses soon replaced with the high-rise, compacted buildings that enclosed the district’s hub.

Blackthorn: just one rotten core of thousands more. Cores set up and partitioned off to contain the third species since their outing eighty years before.

The Global Council, a panel of humans elected as advocates for their own race, had done so as their promise for safety for all humans. What were once cities, towns and villages had been disbanded under the regulations into socially segregated areas now called locales – the third species contained in the nucleus of a further three encircling districts. Contained until they’d proved themselves safe, as they so claimed.

And each locale was managed by its own law enforcement division ensuring that happened. Established as part of the Global Council’s regulations, the Third Species Control Division was responsible for maintaining order amongst the vampires, the lycans, and whatever other third species crawled the dark streets in their patch.

But the system was failing.

Not least because there was no segregation anymore. Not unless you were part of the elite – humans who had earned their place in the far reaches of the locale, across the most highly guarded of all the borders in the exclusive third-species-free Summerton. Or even Midtown – the next notch down. The rest of the humans were forced to live in the under-privileged Lowtown, mingling with the third species allowed to reside there, right next to the now weak borders of the infested Blackthorn.

Back when the regulations were put in place, residents of Lowtown had been promised that, despite being given the dregs in terms of provisions, opportunities and medical care, they would at least get protection. But along with many other changes in the authorities’ priorities, the resources to fulfil that promise soon dwindled. And vinegar was only smeared onto the wound of their neglect by the fact that some third species, such as the Higher Order – vampire royalty – were deemed more worthy than humans, their privileged residence in Midtown a painful contention.

For too long now, humans outside of Summerton and Midtown had been nothing more than by-products of a deteriorating system. The authorities had long lost sight of what was really going on – both Lowtown and Blackthorn now rife with corruption under the rule of a few pivotal third-species leaders. Worse, those same authorities no longer gave a damn about the humans caught in the crossfire.

And very few had opportunities to improve their situation, especially financially. Those that did were ousted with threats against themselves or their families if someone bigger or better connected wanted to take their place. Because with opportunities so few anyway, only the very toughest survived or those who were in with the right cliques.

Subsequently, a selfish human society had formed. Humans learned survival of the fittest by down-treading, down-beating, threatening, bullying and controlling even their own.

As a result, increasing numbers of humans opted to live in Blackthorn instead – to become permanent residents in the protective cocoons created by their vampire owners or, as they liked to call themselves, sires. It was a derogatory and controlling term that Sophia loathed. But that’s how the feeder-vampire relationship was, no matter how they painted it. The sires fed and housed their human feeders and, above all else, gave them protection in a place where the latter was top of the hierarchy of need. Without protection, you didn’t survive long enough to need food and shelter. In the wrong hands, you’d rather starve.

It was a part of the Blackthorn culture that sickened Sophia and one that she’d long believed the TSCD should do more to control. But feeders never grassed on their sires. Treachery was dealt with brutally. And with no way of ever getting out of Blackthorn or Lowtown, they knew only too well that the authorities were the last ones able to help them. Once you fell, you just kept falling.

Which is why The Alliance, a cohort of human vigilantes, had taken it upon themselves to succeed where the authorities failed. Which is why Sophia worked Blackthorn every night, weaving her way into the third-species underworld. For the past ten months, she had mingled in the very abyss of it, seeing for herself that, like mould, its rankness was seeping into every aspect of the district and that it had to be stopped.

The Alliance would bring back equality for all humans. And it would start with ending third-species control in Blackthorn – the bullying, the blackmail, the protection rackets. The Alliance would bring down the key underworld players one by one. Control would be regained. The humans forced to live in Lowtown or Blackthorn would finally be safe, just as had been promised by the very authorities who had since abandoned them.

If she could get back to The Alliance to warn her colleagues their furtive operation had been exposed.

When she escaped the uncompromising lycan leader she was cuffed to.

Through the darkened shield of Sophia’s rain-spattered visor, the streets were nothing more than blurred, opaque shades of grey against the backdrop of the pending dawn. The throbbing growl of the bike drowned out the noise that consistently permeated the dense core of the district – not least the low, rhythmic thrum of bass music that could be heard even at the periphery of Blackthorn where they were heading.

Despite her suppressed senses creating a sense of detachment, let alone the surrealism of who she was cuffed to, she couldn’t escape reality entirely. Her head may have been cocooned in the visor, but her body certainly wasn’t – her arms locked around the lycan leader’s toned waist, her chest pressed up against the heat of his solid back. Jask must have been laughing to himself at her attempt to take him on out on the wasteland. If he was capable of laughing, that was. From what she’d heard, a sense of humour was one department he was severely lacking in.

Not that it mattered. She wouldn’t be around long enough for any of it to matter. This was just a temporary setback. And that’s what she had to keep telling herself to stop the tightness in her chest developing into panic.

Not that her panic couldn’t be justified considering where she was being taken. But, for now, it was panic suppressed by curiosity. Insight into the compound was something a rare few outside of the lycan community ever had access to – unless Jask planned on you never getting out again. She had no doubt he intended the same for her. But he’d learn soon enough.

Avoiding the complication of navigating the motorbikes through the compacted and overpopulated hub, the lycans wove through the backstreets and alleys. And despite her indignation at being manacled to her captor, even she had to admire the smooth proficiency with which he controlled the powerful machine. The lycans’ reputation for swift responses and superior spatial awareness was unarguably confirmed as Jask and his pack skimmed through narrow gaps and skirted obstacles before Sophia even had time to process what they’d passed.

But then the whole of the past three days had been difficult to process – ever since she’d woken up flat on her back on a stinking mattress. She’d woken groggily and with a heavy dose of disorientation from the blow to her head. Woken to a vampire feeding on her, her inner thigh wet from her blood and his saliva.

Marid.

The restraints that held her to the rusty metal bed-frame had left her helpless. And if there was one thing that sent her temper soaring, it was being helpless. Despite her weakened state, she’d bucked and cursed and threatened.

Marid had responded with a sharp slap to her face, adding to her humiliation. And she’d glared back at him with gritted teeth despite the tears welling.

She’d been convinced it was all over for her. Not least in the hours that had passed. And, at times, she’d wanted it to end. Contemplated if death was better than the pain. The pain that she had lived with for years which was nothing to do with Marid.

Then when Marid had finally told her she wasn’t just another in his long line of human victims – those kidnapped and sold on for profit to the underworld – that he knew of The Alliance, and that he was next on her hit list, she’d turned her anger inwards. She’d been overheard mentioning his name, no doubt when she’d had a drink too many. Somewhere along the line she’d been stupid, careless, reckless – all well-established traits that she’d always known would eventually be her downfall.

And she had no doubt they would have been if two other vampires hadn’t turned up to collect her. Two vampires that had apparently heard whispers that Marid had got his hands on an Alliance member. And luckily, if there was one thing Marid valued more than vengeance and a free feed, it was money.

She only wished she possessed as much insight into the mystery that was Jask Tao.

They swept past the carcass of the museum that marked the entry into the northern side of Blackthorn – lycan territory.

Jask’s territory.

Kane Malloy ruled the east of Blackthorn and Caleb Dehain the west, with both vampires rumoured to have vested interests in the south. Both had become far too powerful. Both were top of The Alliance’s hit list.

As for Jask, he may have been leader of a minor third species in comparison, he may head up a pack that kept themselves to themselves, but he wasn’t to be underestimated. This was reinforced by the fact he’d recently courageously spoken out against the Third Species Control Division and played a significant part in exposing their corruption.

Worrying enough had been Jask’s unprecedented appearance in court two weeks before to do so. An appearance that had corroborated the claims of the Vampire Control Unit’s golden agent, Caitlin Parish, that the elite subdivision of the TSCD had used two of his lycan pack as pawns in an attempt to bring down their most wanted, Kane Malloy.

Even more troubling was proof that, with the authorities having been brash enough to take on the notorious master vampire, not least because of the potential aftermath for the human residents of Blackthorn and the surrounding Lowtown, no one was safe from their insane judgement.

Not only had even more mistrust of the authorities descended on Lowtown and Blackthorn; many had been left uneasy that the whole situation was anything but concluded despite the prosecution and incarceration of those responsible.

More so, Jask’s alleged association with Kane Malloy in bringing the TSCD to so-called justice had left many nervous of what a collaboration like that meant for the future of Blackthorn. Any vampire and lycan associations or conflict made the authorities nervous – and those suspected of such were ousted and incarcerated.

And now there was Jask claiming he’d found her at the perfect time. Nothing good could come from lycans having a serryn – not where keeping the peace with the vampiric community was concerned. On top of everything else, the last thing the humans in Blackthorn needed was to be trapped in a civil war between the third species.

Which was why being up close and personal with the usually inaccessible Jask Tao didn’t have to be a disaster. Instead, she needed to turn it around to the perfect opportunity to find out not just what went on inside the lycan compound, but what was currently going on inside Jask’s head.

As they weaved closer and closer to the lycan compound, even the comparatively quieter streets had their fair share of revellers spilling out from the closing bars. A few inebriated residents stepped in front of the bikes, and Sophia tightened her grip on Jask as he and the others swerved effectively around them.

Jask took a sharp right down a back alley, skimming through a gap in a chain-link fence before slowing his pace as they arrived at the far side of a courtyard.

Coming to a standstill outside corrugated metal doors, he switched off the ignition as the others drew up behind him.

Sophia took a moment to collect herself – her body still buzzing from the reverberations of the engine, adrenaline still pumping from the ride, her heart pounding. She had to stay calm – not let him see or hear her fear.

Jask promptly unfastened Sophia’s cuffs at his waist as the corrugated door was pushed open from the inside. Easing off the bike, he gave the lycan now looming in a doorway an acknowledging nod before turning his attention back to Sophia.

Despite her conviction during the ride that this was all under her control, self-doubt took the lead again.

‘You want to walk this time?’ he asked as she freed herself from the enclosure of the helmet.

Regardless of the unnerving heaviness of her legs as she dismounted the bike, the amusement in the cocky bastard’s eyes grated too much. ‘Whatever makes you feel more masculine,’ she said, refusing to disguise her sneer. ‘You’re the one with something to prove it seems – not me.’

But she had no doubt that the glower in her eyes had gone no way to match the one in his.

‘Keep your head down and your mouth shut,’ he warned as he led her over to awaiting door.

‘Recent graduate, were you?’

His eyes narrowed questioningly as he looked across his broad shoulder at her.

‘From charm school,’ she quipped, sensibly breaking eye contact again before sidestepping him and slipping through the doorway first.

The desolate, wide corridor loomed ahead.

As the door scraped to a close behind her, Sophia kept her head up, her shoulders back and her strides purposeful, Jask alongside her.

‘I like what you’ve done with the place,’ she remarked, the fluorescent tubes above buzzing in the silence. ‘Very institutional.’

She looked across at him and sent him a glib smile in retort to another of his frowns, before she glanced over her shoulder to attempt to make eye contact with the younger lycans.

They hadn’t just stumbled on her like they’d made out to Jask and Corbin. The two vampires who’d held her had been awaiting the arrival of two others – two lycans, from what she’d overheard.

But not once had Rone or Samson mentioned The Alliance or her role in it. Yet neither had any other lycans turned up.

She could have used her suspicions as a bargaining tool back in the ruins but had quickly resolved that if they truly didn’t know, disclosing her links to The Alliance was potentially more suicidal than keeping her mouth shut.

Now what she needed to know was, if they had lied to their lycan leader, why? More importantly, how she could turn it to her advantage to get out of there.

But there was no way she could catch their eye without making it obvious with Corbin between them. She’d have to practise a little bit of uncharacteristic patience.

Jask pulled open another corrugated door and led them into what resembled a warehouse.

Two groups of males looked up from tables on opposing sides of the room. One cluster abruptly ceased their conversation. The other momentarily suspended their game of cards. All gave Sophia the once over.

As Jask marched her across the room, she struggled to keep her arms lax by her sides – the temptation to wrap them protectively around herself overwhelming under the oppression of their stares. Instead she looked a couple of lycans direct in the eye as she passed, swiftly giving them an equal once-over by way of retaliation.

As they reached another door on the far side, Jask keyed a code into the security panel before pushing the door open.

They stepped into a courtyard encompassed by chain-link fences – their twenty-foot height overshadowed only by further chain-link fences some fifteen feet beyond. The latter were at least fifty feet in height and topped off with coiled barbed wire – a sight made increasingly ominous by the eerie glow of dawn pending from behind the dense clouds.

Dawn meant another night gone. Another night wasted when she needed to get back to The Alliance. More importantly, to make contact with her sisters.

‘If a subtle sense of paranoia was the theme you were aiming for, it worked,’ she added, as much to ease her own tension in the dominating silence as maintain a mask of nonchalance.

But this time Jask didn’t acknowledge her as he led her directly to the door opposite, keying in another code. The door made a sharp buzz before opening automatically. He stood back and indicated for Sophia to step through first.

She entered a low-arched, red-brick tunnel, her eardrums struggling to adjust to the oppressive enclosure. As the door clunked shut, a terrifying sense of disquiet encompassed her. Instinctively she picked up pace towards the open exit some twenty feet away, not least because of the unsettling echo of lycan footsteps close behind her.

The last thing she expected to enter was a large, open space, let alone be faced with greenery.

Apart from a scattering of hardy trees on the outskirts of Blackthorn – trees surviving despite the odds against the unrelenting polluted atmosphere – greenery was non-existent in Blackthorn. Occasional glimpses were only fractionally more apparent in Lowtown. Greenery was a privilege reserved for Midtown and, not least, Summerton, her true home – the latter having an abundance of parks, fields and woodlands.

But here in the lycan compound, in what was once an affluent city hotel, was not only a green lawn, but a scattering of small fruit trees.

She stood in the corner of the quadrant and scanned the three-storey building ahead, as well as the adjoining two-storey building to her left, both dark and geometric against the swirling mass of clouds. The sky appeared even heavier there, closeting the compound and encapsulating the cold bite that crept with the subtle breeze. A breeze that stirred a damp and earthy aroma evoked by the recent rainfall.

The place was scattered with lycans. Some relaxed on low walls and steps, others gathered at picnic tables, chatting in clusters. But it wasn’t long before she caught their attention, her hands involuntarily clenching at her conspicuousness.

‘Take them to the holding room,’ Jask said to Corbin, referring to Rone and Samson. ‘I won’t be long.’

Corbin nodded, shooting Sophia a glance, before cocking his head towards Rone and Samson as an indication for them to follow.

Her pulse rate increased a notch. Jask wanted her alone. That could be a good thing or a bad thing.

She followed Jask around the paved periphery to the left whilst Rone and Samson were led to another tunnel on the far right of the quadrant. And from their perturbed faces, their leader was certainly living up to his reputation.

As Jask cut across the corner before continuing along the path to the three-storey building, she mindlessly rubbed her wrists – the wrists he had pinned so easily. Humiliation consumed her again at the recollection, as did the knot of nerves in her stomach as he led her up the broad stone steps to the impressive stone-arched entrance and through the open front doors.

Passing through a tile-floored entrance hall, they entered the lobby. Sophia stared ahead at the sweeping central staircase – one which she had no doubt would have been breathtaking in its day. At its pinnacle, the galleried landing split into two either side of a distant, dominating arched window.

Just like outside, lycans mingled in clusters – some reclining in worn armchairs, others strolling leisurely through the open doorway to the left or heading out of sight down the corridor to the right of the foot of the stairs.

She followed Jask across the mosaic floor, past an ornate stone fireplace to her right, and what would have been the reception desk to her left. Ascending the stairs alongside him, her attention was drawn to the opaque glass dome that crowned the ceiling, until the scorch of stares was too much to bear.

She glanced over her shoulder to see every pair of piercing eyes watching her. Even the lycans descending on the opposite side of the staircase frowned in curiosity as they passed.

She tugged at her knotted bobbed hair behind her ear, rubbed her thumb beneath what she assumed were now clown eyes, before glowering back at them. ‘What the hell do they think they’re staring at? Anyone would think they’d never seen a woman before.’

‘Number one, you’re with me, number two, you look a mess, and number three, you reek of vampires,’ Jask declared. ‘Everyone in this building can smell you coming from a hundred feet away.’

Despite his insults coming without so much as a glance in her direction, she still flushed with embarrassment. But she promptly reminded herself it didn’t matter what anyone thought of her – least of all what Jask or any other lycan thought of her.

As they reached the top, she was tempted to turn and perform a theatrical curtsey for her captive audience, but Jask didn’t give her time as he took a sharp left across the galleried landing.

He opened the only door on that side and she stepped in behind him, her heartbeat audible in her ears as he sealed the door behind them.

She took a steadying breath, taking her eyes off him only to scan the enclosure.

Aside from a cluster of three armchairs in front of the dominating window to her right, the fifty-by-thirty-foot room was void of furniture. Even the window was bare, doing nothing to hold back the muted early dawn glow across the exposed floorboards.

Jask kicked off his boots, his bare feet now silent as he led the way towards the jacquard bottle-green curtain ahead.

He brushed it aside to reveal a room about half the size of the last one, only this one had a much more homely feel.

A large, deep-pile rug lay against the wall to her right, conquered by a mass of floor cushions, pillows and a duvet. Clearly the rumour that lycans didn’t sleep in beds, preferring to nest down on the floor, was true.

Another window dominated the wall ahead – this one a bay and housing an impressively deep window seat. But again, it was void of curtains. It seemed privacy wasn’t an issue for lycans – not within the pack at least.

They passed scuffed, white-glossed inbuilt wardrobes as Jask led her to another curtain in the middle of the wall to her left. He tucked the fabric up on a hook and indicated for her to step inside.

She crossed the threshold into a bathroom. A shower cubicle big enough for four sat ahead, the white plastic curtains pulled back but still covering the sides left and right. A toilet was tucked in the top left-hand corner of the room. In the top right-hand corner, were two adjacent sash windows. A lengthy vanity unit containing a sunken sink spanned the rest of the wall to her right.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the broad mirror that sat above it – a small figure in loose, unflattering black clothes with skin too pale for her mussed, dyed-black hair.

‘Strip to your underwear and shower,’ Jask said.

Her heart skipped a beat. She turned to face him as he leaned against the door frame. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

He folded his arms, the taut bulge the position evoked reminding her of his strength. ‘I want the war paint off your face so I can see what I’m really dealing with, and the repulsive vampire scent off your skin.’ He cocked his head towards the cubicle. ‘Now.’

She exhaled tersely. ‘Screw yourself, Jask. Go find some other way to sate your guilty little pleasures – I don’t strip for anyone.’

He held her gaze in the silence.

She held her breath.

A split second later, his chest was a solid wall against her back as he pulled her to the floor between his legs. He looped his ankles over hers, spreading them with his. Locking her arms to her chest, he unlaced one of her mid-calf army boots.

‘I ask nicely once but never twice,’ he said, as he tore her boot and sock from one foot before swapping hands and unlacing the other. ‘If you want to continue being a belligerent little madam, fine. But you need to know I’ve no qualms treating you like one.’

He discarded her other boot and sock before lifting her to her feet with ease.

Arm locked around her waist, he carried her into the cubicle and switched on the shower. He let go of her only to yank her sweater and T-shirt up over her head, casting them aside. Re-pinning her arms pinned around her waist, he retained a faultless hold despite her furious kicking as he reached low down her abdomen to unfasten her combats.

‘You can’t do this!’ she said through gritted teeth as she tried to buck futilely against him.

But as she lifted her feet to the wall to give herself leverage, she only gave him easier access to tug the clinging, soaked fabric down to her knees.

‘No?’ he asked. ‘Then you clearly didn’t learn from your lesson the first time.’

He pushed his foot down between her knees, taking her trousers the rest of the way to the floor. Lifting her out of them, he kicked them aside.

He reached for the shampoo bottle on the nearby shelf as she tried to elbow him away. Squeezing some onto her hair, he rubbed it in, using some of it to wash her face.

Sophia spat out bubbles, the shampoo stinging her eyes as she was forced to close them, let alone keep her mouth shut to avoid the foul taste.

She winced as it stung the wounds, scuffs and grazes from both her encounter with the vampires and the rough treatment of Marid who had made it quite clear he preferred his goods silent – something she’d had a lifelong difficulty with.

‘I trust you can finish yourself off?’ he said, finally letting her go.

She spat the last traces of shampoo from her mouth and hurriedly rinsed her stinging eyes with water before turning to see he had exited the shower. Through the thin fabric of the curtain, she could see his dark shadow in the corner of the room as he stood staring out of the window.

She ran her trembling hands back through her hair and rubbed her eyes until there were no more smudges of the heavy grey eye make-up she always wore.

Once she’d soothed the sting in her eyes, she sulkily grabbed the shower gel and gave herself a wash down. Although she wouldn’t admit it to Jask, she was equally as keen to freshen up after being locked in a filthy room on that putrid bed for the past three days.

She glanced back at the shadow beyond the curtain and felt another flush of embarrassment at the state she’d been in, but immediately quashed the needless emotion.

She rinsed and turned the shower off, but as soon as she turned to look for something to wrap around herself, Jask was back at the opening.

She’d never been particularly shy about her body, and even less so serving with The Alliance – stripping off and tending wounds was a regular occurrence. But something about Jask’s unashamed appraisal whilst she stood in her sodden, thin black underwear gave her a sense of unfamiliar inferiority that didn’t rest easy.

‘Do you own a towel or do you just shake dry?’ she asked as she thrust up her chin, her gaze locked defiantly on his. She placed her hands on her hips. ‘Or would you like to admire me for a little longer?’

He persisted, taking in every inch of her to the point she nearly lost her temper. Until she realised what he was doing. He was checking her inner arms, wrists, neck, thighs, stomach, ankles. He wasn’t examining her for his own satiation – he was looking for bite wounds.

Of course – he assumed she was an experienced serryn and was assessing how many vampiric encounters she’d had recently.

She had almost forgotten what she was now. What she had become. After the night’s events, let alone the previous three days, it had barely registered.

She should have been ecstatic and overwhelmed by the power that now, for a reason she had yet to uncover, flowed through her veins. For years she had dreamt of one day finding a serryn still alive – their blood the ultimate weapon against vampires and subsequently a platinum resource for The Alliance. And the whole time Leila – her sensible, shy, reserved big sister – had been harbouring a secret she would never have seen coming.

A secret she may never have discovered if something hadn’t clearly happened that very night to cause the serryn line to jump to her.

A pang of sickness lingered at the back of her throat. Leila had to still be alive. She had to be.

‘Turn around,’ Jask said. ‘Put your hands on the wall, bend forward and open your legs.’

She inhaled deeply, nearly gave him a mouthful of expletive-filled abuse but, despite what he thought, she had learned her lesson. Temporarily, at least.

She turned, placed her hands flat against the white tiles, spread her legs slightly and leaned forward just enough that he could see both the backs and inners of her thighs.

‘Let me know when the thrill is over,’ she said.

But when she looked over her shoulder, he’d already draped a towel over the rail above and was removing a shirt from the hook by the doorway.

He threw it at her.

‘Get rid of the underwear and put that on.’ He turned away. ‘You’ve got two minutes.’

Stepping outside, he let the door curtain drop back into place.