17
Oliver crossed three lanes to veer into the exit lane and get off the freeway. At the next intersection, he turned and found a small side street which led to a copse of trees next to a dilapidated house with a foreclosure sign in its front yard.
He killed the engine, before turning in his seat to face Ursula. Her words had made him more curious than he liked to admit.
“I’m all ears.”
He watched her swallow before she spoke. “There were about a dozen girls. At first we didn’t know why they had captured us. But there were similarities between us. All of the girls were Chinese, originally from mainland China. All of them had been captured in the US. Some were older, some pretty, others not. So we knew it wasn’t beauty they were after. Or youth. It was our blood.”
He nodded, still skeptical about where she was going with this. “Go on.”
“They brought in vampires to feed from us. Two, sometimes three times a night. But during the feedings they kept a close eye on the vampires who fed from us. They made sure they didn’t take too much. But we all noticed a change in them when they stopped drinking from us: they looked delirious, spaced out. As if they were stoned.”
Oliver arched an eyebrow. “Stoned? I’m sorry, but vampires don’t get stoned. We aren’t susceptible to any human drugs. Not to alcohol, coke, or heroine. Nor to pot or anything else.”
She nodded. “I learned that. But nevertheless, the vampires got high—on our blood.”
“Impossible.” Yet even as he said it, temptation made his gums itch, indicating that his body was longing for blood—preferably Ursula’s. This was a bad time for his hunger to creep up on him.
“That’s what we thought too, but we knew it was happening. And then there were other signs: the guards never drank our blood, even though they looked like they were tempted. And they talked about us: how valuable we were, how much our blood sold for to their clients. The amount they charged seemed staggering. I have no idea what an ounce of cocaine costs, but the guards were saying that our blood sold for more. You questioned how I escaped. The guard was called to help in another room because one of the clients was going wild—probably as a result of the blood—and I used the time to make sure the vampire who was feeding off me took more than he should. I drugged him. He passed out and I was able to escape.”
Oliver listened intently. Was it at all possible that it had happened exactly as she claimed? “Did nobody notice your escape?”
“I’m sure they did, but they were too late. I used the fire escape and ran until I bumped into you.”
He remembered all too well. Was that why she’d been so close to death, because she’d made that vampire drink excessive amounts of her blood? As he thought back to the moment he’d met her, he remembered hearing footsteps in the distance. He hadn’t waited to see who was approaching.
“They must have packed up when they realized that I escaped and couldn’t find me. They must have feared that I would bring somebody back to their hiding place.”
Oliver nodded slowly. “The building was looking a little too clean for that area. As if somebody had made sure to erase their tracks. Who was running the show?”
“I don’t know. Whoever he was, he never came to the floor where we lived and . . . where they fed off us. In fact I don’t think that even the guards knew who he was. I got the feeling that whoever was behind this was guarding his identity. And the guards were afraid of him.”
Oliver had to continue questioning her, not only because he needed to find out as much as possible, but also because he had to distract himself from his hunger. And the more she talked about blood, the more he wanted to sink his fangs into her. “What did you hear?”
“That any guard would be severely punished if a girl in his care died because he didn’t stop a leech from taking too much blood. The guards suspected that their boss had snitches in the building to make sure he knew what was going on at all times.”
The whole story still sounded bizarre. But why would she make it up? “Why only Chinese girls? Did the vampires have a preference?”
“I think it had something to do with our blood. Why would they only have about a dozen girls, when they could surely capture more in any big city? It made me think that what we have is rare. Maybe something genetic, maybe only something that is found in the blood of Chinese women.”
Blood. The word pulsed through his body. “Did they ever actually tell you that you had special blood?”
She shook her head. “Only indirectly.”
Oliver pursed his lips. “I don’t know, Ursula, your story is fantastic. But I have no way of verifying it.” He sighed. “I’ve been ordered to buy you a plane ticket and give you enough money to get home. Give me a reason to defy my orders. One tiny proof.”
Her breath suddenly hitched. “The money. Of course!” Then she put her hand on his arm, the contact sending a heat wave through his body, intensifying his hunger. “Oliver, wait, wait! I have proof!”
The way his name rolled off her lips made him hot all over.
“There’s more. How could I have forgotten? I managed to steal a wallet from one of the leeches when he and the guard were distracted.”
“Why didn’t you tell Zane that earlier?”
“Zane scared the hell out of me! I tried, but I couldn’t think straight with him glaring at me.”
Oliver frowned. “He has that effect on people.”
“So much happened in the last twenty-four hours. I just didn’t think.” When he gave her a questioning look, she continued, “I’d planned that if I ever managed to escape, I would use the money and credit cards in the wallet to get home. I hid it in my room. The name on the credit cards will lead us to one of the leeches. All you need to do is question him and you’ll know I’m telling the truth.”
He allowed the news to charge through his body, rejoicing silently, but then he sobered. “The building was completely empty. All the furniture is gone. So, wherever you hid it, the wallet is gone.” And therefore another possibility of trying to verify her story had vanished with it.
She shook her head. “No. It’s still there. I hid it underneath the floorboards. They wouldn’t have found it.”
“So you want me to drive you back there, is that it?” And damn it if he wasn’t just a tad bit curious as to whether she was right. No, it was more than that: he wanted her to be right. He wanted the story to be true. Because then he could prove his colleagues wrong and investigate further. And he wouldn’t have to wipe her memory and send her home. And then maybe, just maybe, whatever was brewing between them would have a chance to develop.
Ursula looked straight into his eyes, her gaze open and direct. “Yes. So I can prove to you that I’m not lying.”
The drive back to her former prison seemed long. Maybe it felt that way to her, because she was anxious about going back inside the place that she considered hell. Or perhaps she was afraid that against all odds her captors had found her hiding place and removed the wallet, leaving her empty handed.
What would she do then? She had exhausted all means of convincing Oliver that he could trust her. Short of letting him taste her blood, she had nothing left. And she wouldn’t allow him to drink her blood, too afraid that he wouldn’t be able to handle it—and this time there would be no guard to watch out for her safety.
By the time they reached the building again and got out of the car, her hands were shaking uncontrollably. Oliver gave her a sideways glance, then took her hand in his. The warmth of his skin was instantly soothing.
“Easy,” he said softly. “I promise you there’s nobody inside.”
She answered him with a hesitant half-smile and held onto his hand, knowing that he was the only ally she had, even though their alliance was shaky at best and could dissolve again as quickly as it had formed.
With tentative steps she walked next to him. When they reached the door to her former prison, Oliver pushed it open and gave her a gentle shove inside. He followed close behind her, his breathing the only thing she could hear.
Her hand searched his in the darkness, and she was glad when he didn’t reject her touch.
“I can’t see anything,” she whispered.
“I don’t want to switch on the light down here where it can be seen from the street. I can guide us through the dark if you tell me where you want to go.”
“To the fourth floor.”
As he led her up the stairs, she tried to block out the shivers that ran up her spine at the thought of what this place represented. She was surprised when she felt Oliver’s hand rub over her arm in a soothing motion.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Almost there.”
When they reached the top of the last flight of stairs, she heard a light switch being flipped. A moment later, the dim lights in the hallway came on, helping her find her bearings. Instantly, she looked at him.
“Is it safe to have the light on now?”
He nodded. “There are only two windows in the corridor and both are blacked out.”
Relieved, Ursula pointed toward the other end of the hallway. “That’s where the fire escape is that I used.” Then she turned in the other direction. “The room is that way.”
Her pace slowed as she walked past the many doors that led to the rooms of the other girls. So many times, she’d heard sobs coming from them. But tonight, silence descended on the entire floor. Despite walking slowly, she finally reached the door to her former prison cell. She laid her hand on the door knob, but couldn’t find the strength to push it open.
Frozen in place, she closed her eyes.
“We’ll do it together,” Oliver murmured behind her and put his hand over hers, turning the doorknob.
When the door opened inward, she took a hesitant step forward and reached for the light switch, flipping it. Then her eyes scanned the small room. It was empty, just like the rest of the house. How many hours had she spent in here, hoping and praying to be rescued?
“There was a bed here. They shackled me to it during the day so I couldn’t move.” She pointed to one corner where a wooden beam was exposed. The lower half of it had always been hidden by her headboard, but now it was visible.
She walked to it and heard Oliver’s footsteps behind her as he followed. When she dropped down to the floor, she ran her fingers over the letters she had carved into the surface of the beam. “My name, my parents address, in case somebody found it, so that they could tell them I was here.”
She turned to look at Oliver and noticed him staring at where her fingers were pointing. Then he too ran his hand over the surface of the wood. His eyes locked with hers.
“I’m so sorry.”
If she hadn’t seen his lips move, she would have missed his whispered words.
Surprised at the tenderness in his look, she was unable to move as his face came closer. His lips touched her cheek, pressing a soft kiss on her skin.
Swallowing away the lump in her throat she shifted and pointed to the floor. “It’s down here.”
Oliver backed away to give her space while she pressed on one side of the loose floorboard, thus tilting the other side up so she could grip it and pull it up.
She reached inside, her heart beating into her throat, praying that her captors hadn’t discovered the compartment that held the stolen wallet. Her fingers touched something smooth, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled out the leather wallet. She handed it to Oliver.
“This is it.”
Oliver opened it, leafing through the cards inside. “Perfect.”
Then he helped her up. “Let’s get out of here. I can see that you feel uncomfortable in here.” He motioned his head to the spot where her bed had once stood. “It must be terrible to return to the place where you’ve been raped.”
She stared at him, her mouth dropping open. He thought she’d been raped?
“I apologize. I shouldn’t have reminded you.”
Before she could even think of how to respond, he ushered her out of the room and the building. When she sat in the van again and watched him put the key into the ignition, she put her hand on his arm, stopping him.
Surprised, he turned his head to her, but said nothing.
She didn’t know why she felt compelled to correct his misconception, but she did. Perhaps his tenderness and the understanding that he had shown while in her former cell had done something to her. Or maybe she was just getting soft.
“We were never raped.”
Surprise lit up his eyes. “But the vampires . . . the bite. You must have experienced the arousal. And with somebody as beautiful as you . . . ”
He thought she was beautiful?
“I’m sorry to say, but I don’t see what vampire could resist. I didn’t mean to pry, and it doesn’t matter that you don’t want to tell me. I had no right to mention it. Just forget it.”
He appeared embarrassed. And so utterly human.
“I know about the sexual arousal, I’ve been through it so many times, but the guards, they made sure the leeches never touched us that way. It would have reduced the potency of our blood, they said.”
“What?” Confusion tainted his voice.
“They claimed that if a girl experienced sexual gratification, it would negate the drugging effect her blood had. That’s why they never raped us. They weren’t going to blemish the merchandise. That’s also why we were shackled to our beds at daytime. So we couldn’t touch ourselves.”
Oliver’s mouth dropped open as the news sank in.
Ursula nodded slowly, remembering the sleepless hours during which she’d fought her sexual urges. “And during nighttime, they used mind control on us so we wouldn’t try to masturbate when we were alone.”
“You mean . . . ?” He stopped himself.
She looked away, suddenly embarrassed that she’d been so frank. She didn’t have to tell him about this part of her ordeal, but for some reason, she wanted him to understand what she’d been through. “I haven’t had an orgasm since they captured me three years ago.”
At her admission, she heard him exhale sharply. “Oh my god!”
She felt heat suffuse her cheeks.
“But you’re so full of passion.” He reached for her hand, making her look at him.
“I wish I could make it up to you.” Instantly he seemed to realize what he’d said. “Oh God, no, that’s not what I meant. I meant . . . ”
She knew exactly what he meant. It should make her recoil, yet it didn’t. Even though Oliver was a vampire, over the last few hours she’d seen another side of him. He cared. He’d listened and put his disbelief aside. He’d made an effort to help her. And the way he’d behaved when she’d been afraid to enter her former prison cell was downright sensitive. As if he could sense what she felt. Was it so wrong to want to lean against him for support? For some warmth?
“Maybe you can . . . ” Her voice trembled slightly when she continued, “I crave to be touched.” Touched by him. By the vampire who had rescued her.
Oliver reached for her, his hand cupping her cheek. “You want me to touch you?”
Ursula closed her eyes and leaned into his palm. “Would it be such a hardship?”
She felt him shake his head. “Do you really think I’m cute, I mean, for a vampire?”
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. Cute? It didn’t even begin to describe what she felt. “Cute was maybe not the right word.”
“What’s the right word then?” he asked and inched closer.
Her gaze dropped to his parted lips. “What would you do if I said I found you . . . hot?”
Oliver groaned. “Are you playing with me, Ursula? Because if you are, you should stop, or I’ll do something you might not want me to.”
She scooted closer to him. “And what would that be?”
No, she wasn’t playing with him. She wanted him. And she was sure now that it wasn’t the residual arousal from the vampire’s bite. Too many hours had passed since. No, what she felt right now was different. She wanted Oliver. And she wanted to forget.
“I thought you hated vampires,” he deflected.
“I do.” But she couldn’t conjure up that same feeling for Oliver.
“Then why would you want to sleep with me?”
She brushed her index finger over his lower lip. “When you kissed me in your house, you made me want more.” So much more than she’d hoped for in the last three years.
“That simple?”
Ursula gave a short shake of her head. “No. Nothing is simple. But I want to feel alive again. Can you do that for me? Can you help me feel alive?”
Oliver’s face came closer, and his lips approached her mouth until they were only an inch from hers. “Anything you want, baby.”