Okay, take it easy. We’ll get to her, but I’ve got to call in reinforcements first.

He released her, slipped his phone from his pant pocket, and the next moment spoke to Gabriel. Within seconds he’d relayed their position, called for a large team including medical personnel, then hung up.

This is it, Claire. We’re going in, but don’t worry. I’ve been fighting for centuries and I can handle all five of these bastards. Set us down in the middle like you said, then find your friends. I’ll do the rest.

Do it, Lucian.

* * *

“Do it, Lucian.”

Just like that. No fear.

Lucian was amazed by Claire’s courage. He didn’t know if she’d always been this way or whether the struggles of her abduction had created her confident spirit.

Of course, once she witnessed the carnage soon to follow she might change her tune, but right now she had a warrior’s mentality.

I should warn you, I’m going in to kill, not to save these vampires. They’re bad men. Do you understand?

She turned to look at him, her soft brown eyes suddenly hard with an emotion he understood quite well. The young woman is still screaming, so beat the shit out of each one of them and cut their balls off if you need to. I don’t give a damn.

He nodded and something like respect flowed through his chest. Then he ignited his Ancestral power, used Claire as a beacon, and took her straight to the center of one of the biggest abduction cells he’d ever seen.

That part of him familiar with battling evil in his world came alive, a twisted creature that enjoyed doing what he did best.

Just as he said, he left Claire in the center so she’d be away from the guards and could help the other captives. He then headed toward the desk and the five bastards. From behind him, he heard Claire calling for Amber and Tracy.

One of the vampires had just finished, and the girl had stopped screaming. She lay with her eyes closed, breathing hard, blood smeared over her face, her neck having been pierced more than once, her features twisted in pain.

Lucian felt his rage overtake him. They got off on it, the way his father had gotten off on hurting his sons, slicing them open with blades, beating them until they were a mass of vivid red, black, and blue.

He shifted to flight mode and went for the first man, now zipping up his pants. His new Ancestral power, combined with his rage, had an unexpected effect. He grabbed the vampire, yes, but his movements as he shifted to altered flight took him through the cave wall and suddenly he was over the Pacific Ocean. He still had a proximity issue, though much longer than previously, because of the double-chains. He felt a profound tug on his neck.

But his instincts kicked in and he snapped the ra**st’s neck, then dropped him into the water, returning swiftly.

He found that two of the men had remained by the desk but the other two now headed in Claire’s direction, looking around as if confused.

He landed in front of Claire. These men didn’t deserve to live one second longer for their crimes, so he did what he’d been able to do since he was young: He split into two separate battling entities. His secondary self drew a knife and headed to the top of the room after the remaining two vampires near the desk.

The ones closest to Lucian’s primary self started backing up.

“We’ve got an Ancestral in here,” one of them shouted, reaching back and pulling out a knife. The men were fighters, and even though they were scared, they weren’t going to back down.

Lucian laughed and with a wave of his hand beckoned the man forward. He drew a long battle chain from the pocket of his leathers and began to spin it quickly.

The vampire sprang forward with a low growl, slashing at the chain with his blade, hoping to disrupt the spin. But Lucian had worked the long battle chains for centuries now and with the slightest flip of his wrist moved it away from the blade. The vampire rushed in, a big mistake, because another flick of his wrist brought the chain wrapping around the man’s throat.

He slashed out with his hands, but Lucian used the chain’s strength and flipped the man over, then struck his lower spine hard, breaking it. His body went limp.

He let the battle chain fall to the floor, then stepped over the dying vampire. The dark part of him that loved to make war caught the other vampire’s gaze and held on tight.

The man looked scared, just as he should. He had the woman’s blood all over him, on his face and down his neck. On his hands as well. Looked like he’d already had his fun.

Rage reached Lucian’s fingertips. He drew his second battle chain from his leathers and got it spinning. This time he lunged suddenly, and in a quick, arcing bite, he cut up the vampire’s face. He screamed and flew back against one of the cell doors. The young woman within also screamed then dove under her cot.

Lucian let those chains fall as well, then slipped a dagger from the right side of his battle leathers. He could feel his second self punching the remaining two vampires near the desk, taking turns on each with a speed that came directly from his rise to Ancestral status.

His primary self, now bending over the vampire whose hands shook near his cut-up face, thrust the dagger at a low angle through the ra**st’s chest, reaching upward until the sharp point connected with the tougher flesh of the heart.

He screamed one final time, lost air, and arched. Lucian held the blade steady until the vampire lay still, his hands falling away from this face.

For a long moment, he stared down at the man he’d just killed, breathing hard. But as his adrenaline eased back, his hearing opened and he heard the weeping of the young women in the cells. They’d had to witness these kills.

He stood up, stripped off his shirt, and threw it over the corpse. The captives had had enough trauma for one night.

He turned and saw Claire put her arms through the bars of a cell and embrace a young woman with black hair. He made his way back to his second self, looked into his own eyes, and with a powerful vibration rejoined.

All four vampires were dead, and the woman on the table lay very still. Her clothes hung off her in ragged, torn pieces. She’d lost a lot of blood, but she hadn’t died, and for that he was grateful. How many times had he found human women in this state: gang-raped, drained, in terrible pain, traumatized? And how many times had they died because of it?

He didn’t dare try to touch her. She wouldn’t understand he meant to help. He called for Claire, who took charge of her, lifting her from the desk, putting an arm around her shoulders and speaking in a low voice. “We’ll have help here soon to get everyone out, medical assistance as well.” She drew the woman to a corner away from the desk as well as the cells and held her as she sobbed.




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