The idea of undressing, of having nothing between my body and these vampires, made nausea swirl through me. My heart rate elevated and, even when I got under the hot water, I was chilled.

I lathered the soap and scrubbed gently around the wounds on my upper body. Even though it looked like I'd been torn into by a pack of dogs, they were healing fast, though I was sore as h.e.l.l. My forehead was green and yellow and some of my extensions had torn out, leaving my hair thin and uneven.

But other than appearing to have some kind of medieval plague, I was fine. My mind was my own. I'd eaten. I was clean, now. Everything was fine. All I had to do was let an angry woman dress me up, then I'd have a chance to get away.

I peeked out the bathroom door. Long, bright dresses hung from the curtain rod, dripping with things like sashes and tails, lace and glittery beadwork. Amy's hands were on her hips, and her lower body jutted slightly forward from her torso. It might have looked normal in a fashion magazine but it was an unnatural stance. Of course, this was an abandoned house papered shut and filled with vampires, so nothing was exactly normal.

She s.n.a.t.c.hed a slip off the back of the chair, crossed the room in two long strides, and handed it to me.

"Put this on. I need to take your measurements and figure out which of these I might be able to squeeze you into."

I closed the door, pulled on the slip, and wriggled out of the towel. Amy sighed when I came back out. "I was told you'd be smaller."

"I'd be happy to leave, if I'm not to your satisfaction."

Laughter from the doorway made us both jump. Amy pressed her hand to her throat and took a quick step forward. I backed against the wall. Richard Abel filled the room before he even entered it.

He wore a white dress shirt, wrinkled and untucked, and a pair of loose slacks. His hair drooped in his face, making muscles in his cheek twitch when the strands brushed it. Amy emitted a soft wanting noise that made my lip curl.

"This is good," he said, gliding through the room, one hand in his pocket, the other rising to brush the sleeve of a diaphanous blue gown. "Light colors stand out in the dark." His gaze wandered over the other dresses, silver and deep blue, red and black. Then it landed on me, and I couldn't keep from wincing. His energy was focused and so hostile it felt like it was cutting into me.

Amy tottered into the closet and sc.r.a.ped some hangers around. Abel didn't look away and I didn't dare take my eyes off of him. He was frowning.

"Mister Abel," Amy panted over her armload of gowns. "Do any of these please you?"

"Hang them up."

In my mind, I turned and ran. In the inescapable fever dream that was my life, I locked my knees and stood still. He moved until he was behind me, then simply stood there. Every second wound the tension tighter. The bite marks ached, deep below the surface of my skin. I started sweating, hot then cold.

"Which do you like, Sydney?" he asked. My eyes jumped to the dresses as Amy arranged them. The curtain rod was starting to sag, but even if it broke and fell, the windows were covered.

"It's hard to tell, with them just hanging there." I crept away, half expecting him to lunge for me.

Amy hovered, spewing details as I touched the gowns, stroking smooth satin here and examining a billowing cuff there. She didn't care that I wasn't interested. She was putting on a show, for him. At least that meant that he wasn't feeding off of Mickey-for now.

The paper covering the windows was brown and waxy, maybe a few layers thick. But it was only paper. There were seams where it overlapped, gaps between the heavy tape.

"I prefer darker colors," I said, moving toward the center of one window. I slid my hand behind a billowing white train, and my fingers swam deeper until they found a break in the paper.

I pulled on the dress at the same time I tore the paper. The curtain rod put up token resistance before clattering to the floor. And then I was scrambling, sc.r.a.ping, and pulling through layer after layer of heavy, waxy paper. Daylight flashed at me and my heart, tense and restrained for so many hours, soared.

f.u.c.k you, Richard Abel, meet the Arizona sun.

Amy tackled with a howl. I landed hard on my side, curling reflexively. Her hands rained down on me, glancing blows that still stung. One landed behind my ear, stunning me and stealing my hearing.

"Cease," Abel's voice thundered, full of anger and power. Her back arched and she whimpered as she crab-crawled away from me, whispering "Forgive me, forgive me."

Sophie burst into the room, then retreated with a hiss from the light. I pushed myself up, panting and bruised but not caring as I reached for the paper. It fluttered, inches away. If I could just- Abel grabbed me by my hair and dragged me into the corner. Away from the light, away from the only weapon I had.

"f.u.c.king let go," I snarled, shoving at his hands when he pushed my shoulders against the floor. He dropped his knee into my stomach and my next curse was a pained wheeze. Then he raised a wicked pair of scissors. I stilled.

"I could almost like you, Sydney, if you weren't so pathetic. You act like you don't want to give in, but then you provoke me like this." He leaned close, until the wet hardness of his fang touched my ear. "Begging for punishment."

"f.u.c.k you." My voice was little more than harsh breathing. He ground his knee down and opened the scissors. I stared up at him, my hands digging into his thigh.

I heard the snip. I heard it, but I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Because it looked like he was chopping a chunk out of his hand, out of that web of flesh between the thumb and first finger. It looked as though he cut it partway, then tore the hanging flesh away with his other hand.

Blood poured down onto my chest and I screamed, banging my head against the wall and popping something in my ribs as I scrambled to get away. The scissors clattered onto the floor. His right hand fisted in my hair, holding my head tight, and the other-b.l.o.o.d.y and mangled-inserted itself between my lips.

I screamed. I screamed, and then I drowned.

Chapter Fourteen.

"One foot in front of the other, with the toes pointed slightly outward and landing before the heel," Amy said. "Toes first."

I walked across the empty bedroom. One foot landed in front of the other, pointing my toes outward and trying to make them land first without falling over. Richard had said to do what she told me, and I was trying even if she wasn't satisfied.

"Add a little swing in the hips. But no, not too quickly. You're supposed to stroll, like you're moving through a comfortable place. Not stomp like a goose."

Relaxed. Swinging. Slow. Toes first. I tried again. She'd wrapped duct tape around me at my knee, midthigh, and across my chest and biceps since that's how the dress would fit and I needed to learn to walk in it. The blood covering my slip had dried, but Amy still wouldn't let me try the gown on and it wasn't fair. That was the dress Richard wanted me to wear. My gaze kept going to it, my feet directing me toward where it hung in the closet.

"She's zoning out again," Kevin muttered from the corner.

"I am not," I whispered. My throat tingled pleasantly, an aftereffect of the blood I'd been gifted. I glanced at the door, afraid that Richard might have glimpsed my slip in focus. I could feel him, just down the hall, his presence beating like a giant second heart. All I wanted to do was go to him.

Amy clapped her hands in my face, and I startled, tipping in the four-inch heels. I gasped when my ankle rolled, the sharp pain sinking me to the floor.

"I told you those were too high," Kevin said, leaving the fold-out table covered in a microscope, gla.s.s slides, and piles of notes. "At b-best she's the-s.h.i.t, that's hot-loner that gets the trick makeover. She's never going to be a beauty queen."

I whimpered when Amy grabbed me under my arms and pulled me up. She dropped me onto the edge of the chair and I slid off again, crying out when I hit the ground.

"She's not trying," Amy hissed, crossing her arms and stomping across the floor. "Where's Emil's girl? She'll listen to her."

"I am, too, trying," I protested. I was. I wanted to do well.

"The other one's burned out. You're only feeding Sophie and Mr. Abel while she's feeding the rest. Think about that." Kevin wrapped an arm around my waist and hoisted me into the chair. "And this one was in cardiac arrest twelve hours ago, so maybe give her a minute before demanding that she strut her stuff."

He frowned at me and I smiled back. Be nice to my servants, Richard had said. That meant no picking up the chair and breaking it across the chemist's face. Or did it? Surely something about that could be considered nice. My ankle throbbed. I rotated it experimentally, then grimaced. It was already swelling.

"I'm not going down with her if she fails." Amy slammed the closet door, her voice rising shrilly. The paper now securely taped over the window rattled. "I've been with Sophie for a month, and I've been good, and Mr. Abel barely acknowledges me. Except when he's hungry. This b.i.t.c.h is here a day and he's already given her his gift. A day! I...I don't know what I've done to disappoint them, but whatever it is, I can't do it again."

"You're correct about that," Richard said from the doorway. Amy snapped upright. I pulled myself to my feet and tried to straighten my slip. I wanted him to see me at my best, strong and smooth as a feather. No, not that. Quiet, the way he liked me.

"Sydney," he said, his voice a caress over my name, "go downstairs and get yourself something to eat. Then rest."

"Yes, sir." I moved for the door, trying to hide the way I was limping. He grabbed my wrist, and I sucked in a breath. His eyes were bright, so bright where the rest of his face was drawn tight and hard. He was under a lot of stress. I wished that I could ease it.

He turned my head back and forth, peering into my eyes. I'd hurt, but once his hand and his attention were on me? It was like I'd downed a bottle of champagne a little too quickly. Like I was feeling the warmth of the sun following a long winter.

"I'm good." He frowned and I scrambled to think of how that could have bothered him. "I'm good, sir."

His hand, which had tightened on me, eased. I swayed toward him, but he released me with a push.

"Take the shoes off before you go."

I wanted to tell him that they didn't hurt, that he didn't have to worry about me. But instead I bent down and released the straps from around my ankles. I handed the shoes to Amy, who skirted along the wall to take them from me, then trotted down to the bas.e.m.e.nt.

The fruit and cheese were warm, but they were tasty enough. As soon as I'd eaten, I became tired. Instantly, as though someone had turned a switch off in me. Richard had been right; I did need to rest. I lowered myself to the floor of the cage. It was amazing how he seemed to know exactly what was best for me.

"There you are."

I rolled onto my back and found Mickey peering down at me. Her face was pale, other than the darkness beneath her eyes and the p.r.o.nounced hollows in her cheeks. I wanted to roll facedown and close my eyes and never get up again. Instead I sat up, even though my head swam when I did so, like it was floating in a vast ocean of poison.

"Syd, I don't like it here. It's...not friendly." She winced when she swallowed, and I flinched alongside her as memories came to me in fits and starts.

"It's bad?" I rubbed at my forehead, trying to coax my thoughts into a linear order. What the h.e.l.l had I taken?

"This place." She touched my bare arm, right above the bite wound that had cracked open and oozed blood while I slept. "What they're doing to you."

Her voice cracked, and tears filled my eyes. The glamour prevented her from thinking of herself. It wouldn't do to have a mistreated feeder concerned about her own well-being. And I wasn't supposed to...

Time froze, and my pulse pounded in my ears. I hadn't taken anything. Abel had tried to bond me to him. I could still taste his blood.

"Then maybe we should go," I said. There was no other option.

Her brows pulled down, but she nodded, a shallow little bob that turned into a vehement thrash.

"It'll be okay." I grabbed a couple of water bottles and pushed myself to my feet, grimacing as stiffness pulled at my entire body. "Are you alone? Is someone waiting at the top of the stairs?"

She shook her head, her eyes clearing a little. "n.o.body's waiting. And it's daytime."

"Perfect." We eased out of the cage. It wasn't locked but I couldn't quite remember how I'd gotten there. Or why I was wearing only a slip. But I didn't care. We were getting the h.e.l.l out of this place, and that was enough for me. I tugged at the tape binding my knees, then froze when the tearing sound echoed through the empty room. That could wait.

"You remember the number Petr gave us when we landed, the one for emergencies?" I whispered.

"Yes."

"We'll follow the roads, hitchhike if we have to. But if we get split up, don't stop. Don't wait. Keep going. Find a phone and call for Mal. He'll come."

She grabbed my hand as we climbed, wobbly cartoons tiptoeing up the stairs. I was amazed that the combined sound of our pounding hearts didn't alert anyone, but there were a lot of windows on the first floor and the vampires preferred the rooms above.

I handed Mickey both bottles of water and gestured for her to stand to the side of the door as I very carefully unlocked it. My hands felt gritty and a rusty powder fell from my fingers. The dead bolt clicked and I bit my lip as I turned the handle and eased the door open. f.u.c.k yeah, jailbreaking for profit. Grinning, Mickey slipped through. I turned sideways to follow her through the small opening, then cried out as something slammed into the door, shoving it into my chest. She looked back, eyes wide.

Run, I mouthed at her. And, champion that she was, she did.

A hand dug into my shoulder and yanked me back in. I hit the floor as the door slammed shut, sealing me in. A paint can tipped over and started leaking beige on the hardwood floor.

"Get up." Anger radiated from Abel.

The Amy beast hovered halfway up the stairs, both hands clenched around the railing.

I raised my chin. "Go to h.e.l.l."

His fangs dropped and his eyes burned with anger...and surprise.

"Come here, Sydney," he snapped, his will an icy fist reaching inside of me and squeezing. My body moved mechanically, a toy wound by his hand. I stood, even though I didn't want to. I walked to him, even though I f.u.c.king did not want to. My mouth tasted coppery and my throat burned.

Panic split his hold and I bolted, aiming for the back of the house. There had to be another door, another way out- He caught me with a snarl, one arm clamping around my waist. My feet came up and kicked in open air. He grabbed my hair and jerked my head back and, when he spoke, he lisped around extended fangs.

"Amy, tell Kevin to bring his machine down. Now. Then go find that human."

"You go after Mickey," I said to Amy, my voice a promise, "and I will G.o.dd.a.m.n kill you."

Abel shoved me against the wall and pinned me with his body. My neck was cranked back so far I could barely breathe.

He snarled. "What does it take to break you?"

He bit himself. I recognized the sound, the grinding pop of teeth puncturing flesh, as Malcolm had done a hundred times. But this was nothing like those times. My breath was a sob that turned wet as he thrust his wrist into my mouth, pressing my teeth apart. Cold streaked down my throat and my breath plumed in the air as I choked and sputtered.

"You will be what I need you to be," Abel said against my ear. His words filled my mind, essential as my own. "Your greatest fear, greater than desire or love or your own life, will be disappointing me. If you cannot do what I tell you to do, you will die in the attempt. Do you understand?"

He released me and I slid to the ground. All I could hear was my heartbeat, an erratic staccato, and his voice ricocheting through my head. Beating his words in deep.

He knelt beside me, his eyes scorching. "Do you understand?"

"Yes."