Chapter 2

“Wakey wakey, Vampire whore!”

A kick to Sylvie’s stomach jolted her awake, forcing her to eject bile across the ground. She blinked blearily as Jace’s chiselled face came into view, his hulking form in front of the lights casting his features in shadow. She didn’t know how long she slept or even the fact she fell asleep, but the sky outside was still pitch, and the air around her was frigid.

Not wanting nor able to respond, Sylvie just swallowed as Jace crouched by her hands and tugged the tape and tie bindings off, throwing the rubbish from the cell.

Her blouse and pants were next, ending in a heap by the door. She flinched when his hands moved to her underwear, and he stopped, wrapping his hands around her leg. “Your bruising is gone already.”

Fuck.

The unexpected rise in his voice, which she presumed was excitement, made her shudder. Why would fast healing be a good thing if not to hide evidence of his abuses? He was just like the monsters from her childhood.

“Get away,” she hissed, sliding back a few inches. Her body groaned at the sudden motion; despite the lack of visible wounds, her muscles still ached from the pelting.

“You’re a fast healer, but you aren’t a shifter.”

Jace pulled her back towards him and gripped her chin, stretching her lips back to check her teeth.

His eyes narrowed, and he dropped her head back, the weight of it smacking the concrete. Groaning, Sylvie pushed his wandering hands away weakly. His touch irritated her skin to no end.

He growled suddenly, “What are you?”

Before she could come up with a lie, a buzzing sound vibrated from Jace’s pocket. Hesitating a moment, throat bobbing with a hard swallow, he pulled the phone free and answered.

“Yes. It’s done.” Pause. “No, not yet.”

Her heart started beating faster, pumping blood around her shivering body and flushing her skin. Whatever was still to come didn’t sound inviting.

“Alright. See you in five.”

Jace hung up, pocketing the phone, and sneered down at her with a contemptuous leer. “You better tell Alpha what he wants to hear, or I’ll make your stay here as uncomfortable as possible.”

Sylvie kept her mouth shut and eyes glued to the floor as he stood with a dark chuckle. “So disappointing. I thought you’d be more of a challenge to break.”

A jolt of satisfaction hit her, and she hid the urge to smile with a calculating roll to her other side, placing her back towards him.

Good.

If he thought he had already broken her, perhaps he would go easier on her or at least give her more time to plan an escape. All she needed was a second of inattention. The second he underestimated her, it would be his last mistake.

“Put the fucking clothes on that I gave you,” he said, kicking her legs.

Hard.

“I won’t let your disgusting seductress powers near my Alpha.”

Sylvie’s brow furrowed, lips parting to speak, but she pressed them together at the last second. She had no idea what he was talking about, but asking never got her anywhere with him, so there was no point starting then. Asshole.

Sitting up and suppressing a groan, she grabbed the ratty pile of clothes, if you could even call them that. The black biker shorts hugged her ass so tightly the outline of her panties showed, and the holey t-shirt stretched ridiculously across her bust.

She stood and brushed her palms off, staring at Jace with a raised brow. “Better?”

The sarcasm slipped out, but she hoped the tired rasp in her voice covered it up. Jace’s eyes narrowed, though, and he ripped off his jacket, throwing it in her face. “Put this on.”

The smell of it made her nose curl. For someone who looked at least thirty, he smelled like a teenager.

“No thanks,” she mumbled, dropping it on the floor. Jace’s hand shot up, and she flinched away, but he paused before making the strike, his head tilting slightly as if to hear better.

“He’s here.”

The door to the cell block squealed open and heavy footsteps thumped down the hall.

Sylvie turned and sat on the stretcher, clasping her hands and resting her elbows on her knees as Rowan came into view. She kept her expression neutral, despite wanting to run over and claw his stupid twinkling eyes out.

A brown paper bag swung in his hands, and he stood by the door, jerking his head at Jace. The bear man lumbered from the room and returned seconds later with a foldout chair. Despite his size, he was quick. That immediately put a dampener on her plans of escape. She’d have to be both fast and calculating to escape him.

Rowan unfolded the chair and sat four feet away, manspreading and staring hard at her face. Another man able to resist the allure of her chest. She was impressed. Jace didn’t exactly choose a modest outfit, even if it wasn’t two sizes too small.

“Hungry?” Rowan asked, drawing her gaze to the paper bag in his hands. He shook it a few times before placing it on the ground between them.

It was a test.

She’d have to get up and move towards him if she wanted it. She briefly wondered if he wanted her to crawl across the floor to get it, like some good little dog.

“No thanks,” she mumbled, but her growling stomach betrayed her.

He exhaled from his nose, but his full lips remained in a straight line.

“What do you know about the Fae artefact Animae dimidium meae?”

He mirrored her pose and waited, jaw clenching every few seconds.

Shrugging, Sylvie straightened, trying not to cross her arms. She contemplated lying but thought the truth might gain his trust faster. “Besides your email to Elias, I hadn’t heard of it before or after.”

Her memory sparked as soon as she finished speaking, and Rowan’s eyes narrowed, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Well, there was one email before yours with some coordinates in Brazil about equipment being destroyed. But that’s it.”

He leaned in more, keeping his fingers steepled. “What are you? And why do you reek of the Vampire even after your shower?”

Shower? The firefighter-grade hose with water pressure like that from a hydrant was meant to be a shower?

Sylvie’s eyes flicked a fraction before she hid her face by staring down. He really knew nothing about her. Not her name or the fact she had mates. If all he knew was that she was his mate, why did he hate her so much?

“Tell me,” he said, chair screeching as he edged closer. “Are you his blood bag? If so, then perhaps it is forgivable-”

A laugh escaped her mouth before she could stop it, and once she saw his thundering face, she laughed harder.

“What the fuck is so funny, woman?”

She had to clutch her stomach; his expression was so pathetic. His fury, mingling with a total lack of knowledge, created a flurry of microexpressions on his face that delighted her.

Even the sudden grip beneath her chin, raising her to her feet, did nothing to stop her frenzied chuckles.

“Keep it up,” he growled right in her ear, forcing her whole body to shiver. “I’m sure another night in here will get you talking.”

“Why am I even here?” she rasped, pulling away from him. He held firm, but his eyes narrowed.

“I told you.”

Mates.

Yeah sure. The two marks on her chest very much negated that idea but keeping her relationship with Elias and Kian a secret seemed wisest.

“You don’t even know my name.”

“Then tell me,” he said, low in his throat, the vibration from his voice shooting through his grip to her body.

“Names hold power, you know.”

“For Fae, perhaps. Names mean nothing here.”

“How sad.”

Their eyes flashed, their bodies mirroring each other as he held her steadfast. He was so close she could almost taste his fiery scent.

“Tell me,” he grated.

She sneered at him, gesturing to the silver chain around her throat. “Take off this collar first.”

His free hand snaked behind her neck and unclasped the chain, dropping it with a soft metallic plop on the floor as their eyes stayed locked.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

“Sylvie Hart,” she breathed, stifling the grimace wanting to break free.

He swallowed, his iris’ fazing a liquid gold before returning to their strange greeny-hazel. “Sylvie,” he mimicked as if tasting the name on his tongue before sniffing towards her and pulling a face.

“Why do you still smell like that?”

“Like what!” she demanded. No more stupid insults about her scent. Sure, her clothes probably smelled of piss, but that was Jace’s fault-

“Like a bloodsucker. But sweeter.”

She froze, the hesitation making his brows draw down.

“What are you, Sylvie Hart?”

The indecision tore at her mind. What was the more important secret to keep? Her mates or her heritage.

“I-I’m.”

What would manipulate him to trust her faster?

The grip on her chin tightened, and she released a soft gasp.

“I’m half Vampire.”

He whipped back as if stung by her skin and shook his head. The gold in his eyes returned, staring down at her like a pair of headlights.

“Explain.”

She shrugged and sat back on the cot, running a hand across her face.

“I never met my parents, but my father was a born vampire.”

She prayed he wouldn’t ask about her mother, which would inadvertently reveal her dryad ability and her only escape plan.

“And how do you know this?”

“Elias told me. He tasted my blood.”

Rowan’s jaw twitched, sitting back on his chair; the food between them was forgotten. “Is he your-”

Oh shit. Was he gonna-

“Your guardian?”

She suppressed a scoff and images of him spanking her ass raw. “Um. I guess you could say that.”

A low rumble rolled from his chest as his eyes returned to normal again.

“What’s with your eyes?”

His lip twitched, and he stood, turning for the exit when she jumped up. “Hey! Wait a second.” He ignored her completely, gripping the barred door to her cell.

“You can’t leave me in here. I told you everything you asked of me.”

“You told me what I wanted to hear,” he replied, slamming the door. His expression remained guarded as she hobbled over.

“That’s not true!” It was.

“I can’t let you near my pack if you continue to lie to me!” he growled, locking her in and storming away, a thunderous scowl etched across his face.

Her hatred burned.

“Fuck you! I’ll kill you, you bastard.”

Tears seared a hot trail down her cheeks as she shook the rattling door, raining her fists on the metal. She only stopped once a sharp crack shot pain down her knuckle.

“Fuck!” She cradled her broken hand as Jace returned with his ugly sneer, a baton in hand.

“What the fuck do you want?” she growled, backing away and almost tripping over the brown paper bag.

His lecherous grin made her skin crawl.

“Time to see how fast you heal. We have twelve hours.”