Page 81 of Craving Her Vampire

“Turner already asked. I refused.”

“I would advise you not to refuse,” he threatens. “I need the coin.”

“Don’t you mean we need the coin?” Turner says with narrowed eyes.

“Of course, of course,” Carter says, holding his arms out. “We are on the same team.” Doesn’t feel like they are.

“Why do you want a silly coin?” I ask, well aware the coin is worth millions. Sometimes, you can get to the truth when you pretend to be clueless.

“Sentimental value,” he says.

“If it’s a family heirloom, I deserve half of it,” I grin, and his laugh is disbelieving.

“You are family. You're hungry for the prize.” People see what they want to see. He’s judging me just as others judge our animals. “How about we cut you in?”

“How much?”

“Don’t be greedy,” he scolds.

“What do you need money for?” I ask, looking around the room. “If you sell blood, you must have plenty. I assume you make as much as a drug dealer.” Probably more.

“Listen,” he snaps, leaning forward. “The money could set us up for life. My work takes a lot of financing.”

“To buy drugs to mix in the blood?”

“Among other things.” He tilts his head. “You could join us.”

“Join you in torture? Holding shifters against their will? Selling blood to humans who don’t deserve to know of our world?” I growl.

“You don’t understand the scope of my work,” he grits out.

“I guess I don’t. I think you are full of shit.” He points at me and then balls his hand into a fist, his jaw ticking.

“Where is it?” he demands again.

“Close.” He looks down at my body.

“In your pocket?” He exchanges a loaded look with Turner.

“If either of you touch me,” I start, my coyote showing herself through my eyes. “I’ll gut you while I chop off his cock.” I perch my elbows on my knees, my hands hanging between my legs. “Where is my brother? I won’t give you anything until I see him.”

“I don’t think you want to see his condition.”

I lunge forward, my knee between his legs, holding my claws to his neck. “You are fucking crazy. I don’t give a shit what experiments you dreamed up in your head; life isn’t an experiment. Liam isn’t your plaything. Growing up in the packhouse could have broken my spirit, luckily, you were right. As you can see, I have all the qualities you wanted the blood to do.” My head snaps to the side, seeing Turner stand. “Fucker, make one move, and I’ll kill him. If I die, I have a friend who will laugh as she slices off your precious dick.” He stops, and I give my attention back to the demented man. “What did you do with my parents?”

“Your dad didn’t agree with my methods; he had to go,” he says with no fear. He should be more afraid of my claws drawing blood.

He killed him. “My mother?” I ask, hoping she got away.

“She took some convincing,” he smirks. “She agreed to stay with me as long as I promised to let your brother live with you at the pack house.” I push into his neck. “If you kill me, Turner will text the men guarding your brother, regardless of your threat to his dick.”

“Take me to him,” I command.

He looks down his nose. “You’ll have to move.” I inch back, hating I can’t kill him yet.

I move to the side so I can see them both. “Let’s go.” I hold my hands loosely at my sides. Turner moves stiffly behind his boss. I bet he hates having me at his back. I have to follow, though, and hopefully, my mate will be here soon. Micah can pull his memories out by force. This time, I don’t care if he kills them.

The halls they lead me down smell like mold. Nerves flutter in my stomach the further we walk in the dark, winding downward. My legs are in pain, and it takes all my muscles to keep upright. Carter seems almost eager to show me his torture rooms, a pep in his step, glancing back several times, smiling.

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