“At the time of our making, she was not our Queen,” Yuri said firmly. There was respect in his voice for her. It surprised me. Why would he have love for a Queen who had forced them to live like rats? “Eudoxia had been turned by Vlad only a single year before, in the hopes he could gain power through the family. My brother, Ivan, was terrible indeed and had committed many atrocities by that time. Vlad had hoped to marry Eudoxia to put himself in power, but she … resisted … and things fell apart. They were forced to flee the country—”
“Life force … she craves it…” Alana’s voice sounded shrill and a lot more precise than anything she should be capable of uttering. “But … she will not get it,” she continued. “They will come … those who wake … from those below … they take much…” As she spoke nonsense, blood tears coursed from the corners of her pewter eyes, etching trails of red down her white face. Her hair was wiry and askew, her features sunken and bleak.
I took an unconscious step backward. Rourke reached out to comfort me, sensing my distress. “I don’t think weres and oracles mix very well,” I said, turning my head slightly toward Yuri. “We need to get her some help—”
“Silence!” she screeched, a curved nail pointed straight at my chest.
My mouth snapped shut.
She began to rattle her chains, her arms and legs twisting erratically. Yuri stood and tried to calm her. “My love, you must relax. We will leave here soon, as promised.” His voice was tender. “You wanted to talk to the girl. She is here. Say your piece and we will leave.”
All at once, a power surge shot around the room. It was so strong it slammed both Rourke and me against the wall. The only words Alana uttered before Yuri screamed were garbled.
But I understood them just fine.
“She is mine.”
The power signature Alana had emitted reeked of alcohol, of all things. I righted myself quickly, but Rourke was one step ahead of me. Yuri was down and Rourke was already by his side, kneeling at his chest.
There was only one problem.
Houdini had escaped her chains and she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
The room wasn’t that big.
There were various shelving units and darkened areas stacked with goods, but I should be able to get a bead on her. “Um, Rourke?” I said as I inched forward cautiously. “Where’s Alana?” I glanced toward the door of the storage room, but it was closed and had no sign of a forced exit. She wouldn’t have had enough time to go through without us seeing her. “I can still smell her all over. It would be impossible for her to become invisible right—”
With a wicked shriek, she dropped from the ceiling onto my shoulders.
We tumbled to the floor as my mate yelled, and pandemonium hit the storage room.
Goddammit. I hadn’t looked up. That was the oldest trick in the book. But now that I was on my back, I could see the old rafters cut deeply into the weathered ceiling. Perfect place for a crazy lady to hide.
My wolf snarled fiendishly, trying to roll her off of us. Adrenaline raced through my system as my body morphed. “What are you doing?” I yelled at Alana as we tumbled. “Ow!” She’d locked her skinny arms around my neck and plunged her fangs deeply in my neck.
I gave a strangled howl.
“I can’t tear her loose,” Rourke shouted from above us. “There’s no space between you.” He clutched her around the waist, but her legs were locked like a vise around me, and we both rose in the air as he lifted, her fangs tearing deeper into my flesh.
“Gag, stop,” I gurgled. He set us back down carefully. “You can’t get her off me,” I gasped, trying to force her head backward, my claws digging deeply into her back, “because she’s not trying to fight me. She’s trying to eat me!”
Alana had clamped herself onto me like a vampire second skin and she was a lot stronger than she looked. Her power needled into my skin as she drank, her head buried so far in the crook of my neck her face wasn’t showing. I rolled again, trying to shake her loose. We knocked into crates and boxes, but she held on. Rourke swung his fist down on her head and then on her back. I heard bones break, but she didn’t move. Not even an inch.
“She’s not reacting,” Rourke yelled. “I don’t know how to get her off without ripping open your neck.” Her fangs were embedded so far into me, tearing her off would cause major trauma and take me too long to heal. Plus, it would hurt like a mother.
“Let me … try something.” I raked Alana’s back with my claws, using all my strength, tearing what little clothing she had. She gasped and writhed but wouldn’t unlatch. I turned her on her back, managing to make my way to my knees. Once up, I slammed her down. “Get off me!” I shouted.
Rourke was behind with something in his hand. “Look out, Jessica. I’m going to smash this—”
And just like that, she unlatched.
Once free, I jumped off the floor, my hand covering my dripping neck as I backed away.
Alana staggered like a drunk and laughed like a possessed cartoon character. She sounded like Woody Woodpecker on acid.
My gaping wound healed quickly, but for some reason I felt dizzy. She must have taken a gallon. Rourke was in front of me, throwing what appeared to be an ice pick into the corner. That would’ve been gruesome. “Are you okay? Did she take too much?” he asked. When I didn’t answer right away, he put his hands on my shoulders and urged, “Jessica, answer me. Are you hurt?”