Free Enslaved by the Others by Jess Haines Page A

windpipe.
    Distantly, I heard her scream, noted her kicking and thrashing as she fought to get free, but the worst thing was being so close and yet so very helpless to stop it. There was nothing in his gaze that said he was sorry. Nothing that hinted at compassion or understanding. All he was looking for was acceptance from me. Acceptance and submission.
    Every instinct I had was screaming to keep fighting, but he would kill her if I didn’t relent. I’d seen him do it before, and that wasn’t when he had anything personal at stake. Terrified that he might not stop, I grabbed at his shirt front instead, tugging, pleading the only way I could, desperate to find a way to get him to let her go.
    As soon as I stopped fighting, he withdrew from her wrist, licking the faint sheen of red off his fangs before speaking down to me.
    “Get on your feet and kneel where I instructed.”
    He gave me a little shove as he let me go, and though I rubbed at the sore spots that would undoubtedly become bruises on my throat later, all I could focus on were the twin trickles of crimson on Sara’s wrist and the tiny sounds of hurt she was making. Her eyelids were half-mast with a languorous mix of exhaustion and terror I was all too familiar with. Gasping like a landed fish, I got shakily to my feet. Once I found my balance, I moved to the spot Max indicated and knelt, just as he’d wanted. Gideon was shifting from foot to foot. The necromancer was obviously uncomfortable but made no move to step in or help either of us.
    Max was all too pleased. “Very good. It seems she can be taught after all.”
    Sara was crying again. My own eyes stung with unshed tears as I stared up at the sly, pleased smile of my captor.
    As soon as I got my hands on a weapon, I was going to kill that son of a bitch.
    He let go of Sara’s arm, which fell limply to dangle at her side. The agonized sound she made and the boneless way her arm moved hinted at dislocation. As much as I wanted to get up to help her, Max might hurt her again if I tried. I glared up at him, wishing I could somehow hate him to death.
    Fabian was looking at Sara with naked hunger glimmering in his eyes. I had the sudden, horrible thought that she might only be alive right now because Max had told him she might be useful to use against me. Had that changed?
    “Sire,” Fabian said, “we have a plane to catch.”
    “You may go. I’ll call if I have need of you. I’ll see you both the week of the full moon.”
    Fabian nodded at Max’s dismissal and put his arm around Gideon’s shoulder, urging him toward the door. The necromancer looked back, his gaze locked on Sara with an expression that was somewhere between calculation and concern. He surprised me by halting in the door, shrugging off Fabian’s touch and addressing Max directly.
    “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to stay.”
    Fabian was clearly annoyed by his lover’s temerity. His dark complexion became more so, his brown eyes glinting with a hint of red embers in the irises. “Gideon. Now is not the time.”
    Gideon didn’t give an inch. There wasn’t a bit of fear in him for angering Fabian, surprisingly enough. Even more unexpected was his gesturing at Sara, impassioned in a way I didn’t fully understand.
    “She’s my responsibility. Let me take care of her injuries.” Then he looked right at me, something in his tone telling me there was more to what he was saying, though I wasn’t sure what. “I’ll help with her, too. Let me do this.”
    Max’s gaze narrowed, thoughtful as he took in Fabian’s reaction. “What do you have to gain from this, little spark?”
    If Gideon was annoyed by the slur, he gave no sign. “A familiar. She’s already been marked once. When you don’t need her anymore, alive or dead, I can still use her.”
    That sent a fresh bolt of panic up my spine. Marked. A familiar. Had he and Fabian lied to me back in Los Angeles? Were those blood runes he had supposedly removed, the