Page 59 of Fanged Temptation

The overhead compartments rattled as I rifled through them, muttering curses under my breath. Nothing but napkins, wine glasses, and a half-empty tin of questionable coffee grounds. And a single butter knife.

“Seriously?” I hissed, strangling the air and snatching up the knife. But it was better than nothing.

I returned to Addison. She eyed the blunt utensil with an exasperated raise of her brow. “That’s all we have?”

“Apparently,” I muttered, sinking back to my knees. “At least it’s, uh… a knife. Sort of.”

Addison snorted. “Sure. Just do your best, MacGyver.”

I slipped the rounded tip of the knife under the rope, sawing at the fibers with clumsy fingers. Addison let out a hiss of pain when the cord pressed too tightly against her skin.

“Sorry,” I whispered, trying to be gentler. I met her eyes, shaken by her startling calm considering the dire situation. “Are you—are you all right?”

“Peachy,” Addison muttered, watching me work. “Believe it or not, I have some experience being abducted by supernatural beings. This is… maybe the third time now? So, yeah. I’m not freaking out as much as I probably should be.”

I paused, staring at her. “Third time?”

She nodded with a wry twist of her mouth. “Yeah, I keep meaning to get a punch card or something. One more kidnapping and I get a free latte, you know?”

A short, tense laugh escaped me and I resumed my sawing. “I guess it comes with the territory, dating a vampire and all.”

“Pretty much. You’ll get used to it.” Addison shrugged as well as she could, holding her forearms firm while I worked. “Don’t beat yourself up about this one. We all knew Gregor was bad news, and I’m the one who insisted on coming along for the stand-off.”

I grimaced, picking up speed as the thick ropes around her wrists began to fray.

“Is…” her gaze flicked up to me and her voice cracked slightly. “Is Hunter okay?”

With a sudden jolt, the ropes snapped in two, the knife nearly jerking out of my hand. Addison rubbed at her wrists while I bit my lip and got to work on the ties at her ankles.

I swallowed, my voice coming out steadier than I felt. “Last I saw, we ditched her with Jordan at that power plant. She was…on her feet, but furious. At all of us. I thought she was going to rip Maxine’s head off.”

Addison let out a choked chuckle. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

At last, the final fibers snapped with a softtwang, and Addison stretched out her legs with a groan. Angry red welts had formed where the rope bit into her skin. I slipped a hand under her elbow and helped her stand.

She wobbled on her feet, then released a shaky breath and shook out her wrists, the rope burns shining raw and red. “Thanks.” She offered me a lopsided smile. “And hey, not bad for your first hair-brained rescue mission.”

“I think I’m getting the hang of it,” I murmured, attempting a smile to hide my own nerves. My heart pounded a frantic tattoo and I glanced toward the exit. “We need to get off this jet.”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” Addison let out a breathy laugh. She raised her hand, palm up. “Go team human girlfriends! Well, fiancée in my case, but you get it.”

I hesitated only a second before high-fiving her. One small, absurd moment of camaraderie in the insane situation.

I caught the glint of that ring on her finger and scratched at the nape of my neck. “Oh, congratulations by the way—for the engagement. Hunter looks like a handful but I’m glad you guys are happy.”

“Aww,” Addison touched her chest in a mock-dramatic gesture. “Thank you!”

I cracked a genuine smile at the absurdity of the conversation, but reality crashed down in the next heartbeat when I caught a blur of motion outside the small windows.

Rain sheeted across the tarmac, and… my stomach dropped.

Wax model minions were pouring out of the hangar, dozens of them, disjointed limbs flapping wildly, scuttling through thestorm. A lone figure sprinted away from them, heading in the direction of the rusted barrels near the fence line. Maxine.

“Fuck. Addison, we have to go—now.”

But Addison didn’t answer. She was suddenly dead silent at my side and tugging at the sleeve of my shirt, her eyes wide with fresh terror. Slowly, with creeping dread prickling at my skin, I followed her line of sight.

Standing near the cockpit door was a grey figure—eerily still, decked out in a dark suit and a velvet bowler hat. The overhead lights glimmered on waxy skin, vacant eyes empty and cold.

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