Page 38 of Wake the Dream

It was a bad idea, she knew. Then again, her heart gave a thud and she realized she would do whatever it took to find Yelena. Illaria found herself nodding, ignoring the way the vampire leered at her as he dragged her from the room. His grip chilled her to the bone and she tried not to stumble when he tugged at her.

This was different, so different from Kieran’s touch. Which instantly dropped the lower half of her face into an epic scowl.

Part of her prepared to dig her heels into the ground and refuse to go any farther. Her heart gave another thud, painfully this time, and she thought of her sister. The last time she’d seen Yelena’s smiling face. The dinner Illaria had been late for because she’d been too busy with whatever flavor of the night whose name she hadn’t bothered to get. Too busy dealing with her own fucked-up psyche to think about how her sister might be faring.

She needed to be strong for Yelena. Hell yes, she could do this.

Ignoring the raging typhoon of questions in the wake of her lack of magic, she forced one foot in front of the other, stepping over the two rows of stone left over from the hole in the wall where someone, or something, had burst through. They moved through the crowd together, past the throng of dancers and drinkers and partiers enjoying the dark.

“Over here.”

The vampire turned a corner, pressing his hand to the wall and willing the dirt aside. The wall rippled to reveal a small room with a single wooden chair in the center.

He pushed her inside, watching her stumble. “Sit. I need to strap you down.”

Illaria’s breath caught in her throat. Had her sister been here, strapped to the same chair? Had she been excited? Scared? “Why do you need to strap me down?”

“Sit!”

The command in his voice startled her. That little... “Your kind of manipulation isn’t going to work on me. I’m not one of those humans you can enthrall with your powers.” She puffed out her chest, eyebrows raised. “You might want to rethink how you talk to me.”

Instead of being intimidated, the creature laughed. He might have even been good-looking if she hadn’t seen past the pretense he showed to the rest of the world. The world saw a middle-aged silver fox with attractive streaks in his hair and a strong aquiline nose. She saw the rot and decay underneath, the centuries of feasting on the blood of others to survive.

He bent at the waist in a short bow. “Then please, my dear lady, have a seat. I won’t do anything to you that you don’t want me to do.”

“And you...need money for this?” she questioned, eyeing the chair.

“We’ll discuss payment after.”

Foreboding settled beneath her sternum. Illaria trusted her magic to take care of her in most situations—ifshe could access it, but in this instance, she couldn’t be sure it would come. She might look delicate, but she could kick ass if necessary, as evidenced by her police record and the assault and battery charge. However, strapped to a chair, she’d have a difficult time defending herself without magic.

She made herself sit, the cool chair hard on her back and tailbone. Lifting her gaze to the vampire, she gave a single nod. “I’m ready. Show me why my sister came to you.”

Straps came out of nowhere and looped around her wrists and ankles, binding and tightening right up to the point of pain. The vampire slowly stalked forward, keeping eye contact with her the entire time. Without breaking it, he pulled a single grape out of the pocket of his shirt.

“This is a Bual,” he told her. “If you’re ready to wake up, this will do it.”

Her mouth went dry. Her teeth clamped down and for a moment she thought her jaw would refuse to open. With agonizing slowness, she forced her lower jaw to drop, tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth.

He had the grape against her teeth when the sound of sirens cut through the music of the club. Had Kieran called in backup?

Her heart lurched.

The vampire blanched, as much as a vampire could blanch, and disappeared, whirling around and bolting out through the break in the wall, the dirt closing behind him into a seamless brown. The grape dropped to the floor and shriveled up into nothing.

Illaria watched the process. Gave a tug on her restraints. Found them still binding. Found her magic unwilling to come. And screamed.

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