"Arick, there's no time for this right now."
"Drex has nothing but time. I have less, but more than you. And you are wasting yours, love. So, let's get started," he demanded, patting the couch beside him.
I had no choice.
I didn't have to know the man long to know he was the stubborn sort. He wasn't going to give me what I wanted until I gave him what he wanted.
So I sat.
And I got started.
And Arick wrote.
In the most stunningly beautiful penmanship, I might add.
At some point, his hand must have tired, because he sat back, flexing it while the pen kept moving across the pages, copying down my words.
It was hours later when I finally ran out of words, ending with grabbing Davor, and giving him the ending he deserved.
"The world is a better place," Arick said. "In case you were having doubts, I'd once seen that particular vampire leading around women who looked frail and pale and sickly on chains. He did it once. He would have done it again. You did the world a favor."
"I don't have any doubt about that," I admitted as he closed the book. "I was planning on staying until I could dust him. But fate had other plans."
"And now you are here," he said, stretching out his long legs, then getting to his feet, so he could tuck my book on his shelf. Likely right behind the other account of broken enthrallment.
My story was now one for the history books. That was somehow both strange and wonderful at the same time.
Maybe sometime in the future, my story would help another thrall who desperately wanted to get away.
"So, shall we sleep?"
"What? No. I want your help to get to Drex's friends."
"I'm not sure how close of friends they will all be now. Ace was not pleased when he came here looking for your man."
I didn't correct him.
Drex wasn't my man.
Even if there had been a pleasant warming sensation in my chest at the idea of him being just that.
"They will help him," I said, voice fierce. "Even if it is just to prove they won't be threatened by the vampires."
"You are learning the ropes well. Alright, love, if you must, we must. Let's go," he said, leading me back out of the cabin, across his grounds, through his home, then back out to his Porsche.
"This?" I asked a while later as Arick pulled his car down a long, wood-lined road. "This is where Drex lives?" I clarified as the massive stone building came into view.
Were all supernaturals rich?
The vampires, Arick, Drex and his people. They all lived like kings.
Then again, I hoped if you were immortal—or close to that—that you figured out how to make and hold onto your money.
"Hm, that is an interesting development," Arick said, mostly to himself, making me follow his gaze to see a blonde woman running away from a man leaning against the side of the giant home, head down, defeat clear on his handsome face.
"What is?" I asked.
"Oh, nothing to worry your lovely head about."
"Another story for your bookshelves?" I asked as Arick parked.
"You know, I suspect so," Arick agreed, giving me a charming smile as he slid out of the car. "Come, love," he said, opening my door for me. "I warn you, this may not be overly pleasant. But their anger has nothing to do with you."
My stomach flip-flopped as we moved to stand at the front door. My pulse pounded as Arick reached up to click the door knocker.
The door opened.
And there he was.
The cavalry.
Chapter Thirteen
Drex
Something clearly happened.
Because not long after Nova left me, Renwick and several of his men came down.
Then the pain started.
And the questions.
About the enthrallment.
About what we did to break it.
Needless to say, I wasn't exactly in a talking mood.
And, thankfully, it was the middle of the fucking day. Renwick and his henchmen were beat. They didn't have it in them to go whole-hog on me.
They would, of course, once it was later, after they'd gotten some sleep.
I didn't give a shit about the blood I felt trickling, about the bruised ribs or busted face.
I'd had my ass kicked more than a few times over the years. There was no reason to get dramatic about it. I'd heal. And I would heal quickly.
The only thing I worried about while down in the damp basement tasting my own blood was if she'd gotten out.
If she'd gotten herself free, and had found her way to Sanctuary. If she'd managed to find Thysa. If Thysa knew how to get in touch with Arick. If Arick would find the time to help Nova without making her jump through hoops.
All of it would fall into place eventually. So long as she managed to follow the steps, find the people who would help her.
They knew that while I might be laid up for a couple decades with the bloodsuckers, that I would pay them back once I was free.
There was every incentive to help her.
If she got to them.
I never really understood the concept of anxiety before. When life was long enough, you learned to let shit roll off your back without much fuss. Everything blew over if you gave it enough time.
And I'd damn sure never felt anxiety over something that wasn't directly related to me before.
Yet all I could feel was anxiousness with regard to Nova.
It made no sense.
What happened to her didn't directly impact me.
Somehow, though, it felt like it did.
I couldn't begin to understand the sensation.
And I knew that by the time I crawled out of this basement, she'd be well into middle age, with a couple of kids, and a man who wasn't worthy of her.
But regardless of that, all I could do was think about her. I guess I would have a good twenty-plus years to keep thinking about her.
All the while knowing I could never have her again. I couldn't place the sensation I felt with that realization, but it felt like being gutted.
Whatever the hell that was about.
Time was hard to discern when in a basement without windows.
At some point, my eyelids got heavy, and sleep got the better of me, stealing more time.
But the next thing I knew, the basement locks were disengaging, and there were quick footsteps on the stairs.
I thought they were coming to take some more of their bruised pride out on me.
I braced myself for it.
Then I felt someone launch themself at me.
Chapter Fourteen
Nova
I have no idea what I was expecting from a group of demon bikers. I guess I'd conjured up images of Drex carbon copies—big, strong, bearded, a little rough around the edges. And terrifying. Because, unlike Drex, their first move upon meeting me wouldn't be to save me from my miserable life.
No.
They'd probably want to throttle me for dragging their friend into my world.
But whatever I'd been expecting, a demon in a red hoodie with blue pajama pants with little red lobsters all over them standing there eating a giant bowl of Lucky Charms was not it.
I didn't even need to ask to know who it was. From Drex's stories about his friends, there was only one demon this could be.