Rapture Untamed (Feral Warriors #4)(68)

Where was she? Her brain struggled to remember what had happened, how she'd gotten here.

She looked up to find that the ceiling of her glass cage was lower than the ceiling of the cellar, her chain attached to the glass, or Plexiglas, itself. Her arms were bare, her leather jacket missing. A single draden-bite welt marked her forearm.

No wonder she was so weak. She must have been bitten when she was unconscious.

Where in the hell am I? Where is Jag?

Memory came at her like an iron fist.

She'd told him he mattered to her, and he'd turned on her, flaying her with his rejection. Calling her a life-stealer. And the Ferals had overheard him.

They knew what she was, now. Her stomach squeezed until she thought she'd be sick.

She'd run, Jag had followed, then a little girl...

A little Mage girl...

Realization hit her, and she gasped. The Mage had captured her. But why? It wasn't like they knew what she was. Her scalp crawled. Dear goddess, what if they did? She suddenly remembered the way the Mage witch, Mystery, had stared at her, as if she were the only one of interest on that entire field of battle.

Did they mean to steal her soul, as they had so many others, and turn her into a killing machine? A shudder tore through her at the thought of what she could do. A single feed in a movie theater would kill the entire human population. If she crept close to a Therian mansion, she could probably kill most of those inside before they realized what was happening.

Jag would stop her.

Jag. Where is he? Did they take him, too?

Did they kill him?

Goddess, please not that.

The sensation of burning needles grew stronger, harsher, and she had to clamp her jaw hard to keep from moaning with the pain. Even if there was no one to hear her, she refused to give in.

If only she could pinpoint her captors and steal their energy. At the thought, she closed her eyes, struggling to force herself past the pain, to feel beyond. But she could feel nothing, as if this test tube were the entire world. As if the Plexiglas contained her gift as well as herself.

Of course it did. The realization only confirmed her fear. If the Mage had defended themselves against her gift, they must know what she was.

A fine desperation threaded itself through her mind. Did they understand she had to feed? That if she didn't, she might die? Maybe it would be for the best if she did.

But she felt confident the Mage wanted her power for their own. And she doubted hunger could kill her. She feared she would simply linger like this, the pain growing worse until she was out of her head with it. Was that their plan?

She didn't know, and the not knowing terrified her the most.

Little by little, she managed to slip away into a different place in her mind, desperate to escape the building fire in her flesh. She thought of Jag, remembering the way he'd made love to her in his bedroom. The way he'd stroked her body. The way he'd looked into her eyes as if he were falling as deeply and completely as she was. The feel and taste of his mouth as he'd kissed her. But mostly, she remembered the gentle look in his eyes. The needs she'd recognized so well in their brown depths. A need to end the loneliness, to end the isolation. A need for the connection that had begun to form between them - a connection of the heart. The soul.

The squeak of the cellar door wrenched her out of her thoughts in a blaze of pain. In walked Mystery, her thick auburn hair hanging in waves around the shoulders of her emerald green sorcerer's robe. No expression crossed her face. No emotion flickered in her emerald eyes.

Soulless.

Was that what her own eyes would look like when they were through with her? Or would she be one of the ones excited by the prospect of another's pain?

Dear goddess, she'd rather die first.

Behind Mystery walked two middle-aged humans, their faces as blank as automatons'. A couple, she suspected, the man balding, the woman soft and round.

Enthralled.

Mystery reached for the Plexiglas, opening a door Olivia hadn't seen. At once, Olivia was blasted with the rich tease of life energy rushing across her senses. The energy had no real taste, no real smell, and yet the feel of it intoxicated, driving her need. She moaned beneath the crush of hunger. A hunger she would not slake on innocents!

She struggled against the pain and the need, holding on to her control by the finest of threads. A memory broke through her struggle, a memory of her last draden feed, how she'd finally, after so many centuries, been able to target her life-stealing.

Focusing, she tried to find the Mage in her senses, tried to single her out for attack.

But her hunger was so fierce, the life forces ran as one, bright and ripe.

The two humans walked into the cage and the door snapped shut behind them. Any chance of singling out Mystery was gone.

The humans stood, unmoving, as if waiting for her to take their lives. Feeling them, needing them, was torture, the need to consume them nearly more than she could stand.

Mystery stood outside the cage watching her with dead eyes. "We want you hungry, life-stealer, but not weak. Not distracted by your pain. We drained you with the draden, but he took more from you than we'd anticipated. We ordered you to feed while you were enthralled, but you refused. So you'll feed now. From the humans."

Olivia met the witch's soulless gaze. "I'll kill them."

"Of course."

"No! Give me draden."

But Mystery simply turned and left the cellar through the door from which she'd entered, leaving Olivia alone with the offered meal.