Rafe

"Should we let him live?" A man's voice cuts through my haze of pain... it sounds like Lucas.

"He could prove useful down the line," Cora answers.

"I don't like it," Lucas says. "I'd rather we kill the troublesome bastard now and be done with it."

"Patience, my dear, patience." A snort sounds nearby. "Look at his body. He could prove an entertaining distraction while we torture his wife."

The boxer briefs I slipped on before sleeping are the only thing between me and the bare floor. Coldness seeps into my flesh, reminding me, despite my discomfort, that I am well and truly alive. If I hadn't had so much of Dria's blood earlier my neck wouldn't have been able to heal before I bled out. My low moan when they moved my prone body from our suite gave away my status. They bundled me deeper underground in the Seat of Darkness, to depths I'd never traveled with my wife on our many visits.

The air smells stale and old, as if the room was left empty for a long time. Weak light shines from an overhead bulb, the exposed wire indicating it was added after the stone walls were originally built.

I can't feel Dria in my head, due to the silver hood they placed on her, but I have no doubt she's still alive-especially after hearing that bitch's last comment. Dria's way too valuable for them to kill. If they try and use her abilities they will find out what Mikov discovered centuries ago-no one can control a true manipulator against their will. At least, not for long.

A chill runs down my spine when I recall Dria killed her second husband to escape her first seethe's clutches. The situation was different, though, and I don't think the same fate applies for me. The pair in front of me will likely be my undoing rather than my wife.

"Come now, Rafe," Coraline's sickly sweet tone cuts the air. "We know you're awake. Quite surprising how you healed from that fatal wound. A lesser man wouldn't have succeeded."

A male voice speaks before I stir from my position on the floor. "Or he could have just had her blood. It would speed the healing."

"Good point, Justin. The real trick is-does she know he had enough or does she think he's dead?"

I raise my head to examine the occupants of the room. Lucas stands next to the blond, curly-haired bitch, both dressed in all black, as befitting their stealthy attack. A tall, lanky man lounges against the wall. His body language appears nonchalant, but his keen gaze rests on me, curiosity burning in its depths.

"If her screaming and thrashing were any indication," Lucas says, "I doubt it. She looked like a rabid dog in need of putting down."

Justin's face tightens with distaste, and he looks away. I wonder who he is, how he got dragged into this mess. His skin tone is too vibrant and tan to be a vampire, unless he was changed very recently. And if he was a new fledgling I doubt he'd be trusted enough to be with this group here.

Feigning a weakness I don't feel, I slowly pull myself into a seated position, my back to the stone wall. Cora tracks my every move, her eyes glittering with intensity. "Have you wondered how you were both caught so easily?"

Justin glances at me on her comment, his expression pinched. Is that guilt on his stoic face? I have a pretty good idea he must have been involved in them getting the jump on us. I grunt a non-committal sound, hoping Cora will reveal more in her desire to lord her superiority over me.

"There are secret passages in the aboveground Tribunal buildings. Perhaps they were built centuries ago for the inhabitants to roam freely and avoid the sun." She lifts a shoulder. "Or maybe they were hidden servant corridors. I'm not sure." The blond vampire stalks forward, leans down to haul me to my feet and throws me into a nearby chair. "Either way, they let us into your suite."

Her explanation doesn't cover why neither of us sensed them enter our quarters, nor is Dria easily taken by surprise. Lucas claps a hand on Justin's shoulder. "Add the skill of a wizard to the mix and Dria never had a chance."

I glance at the tall, brown-haired man. Why would an experienced wizard with enough power to trick a vampire Dria's age, if even for a moment, get into a fight like this? His hair brushes his collar and lays lank against his forehead. He's dressed in black jeans, clunky black boots, and a black button down that has seen better days.

Justin straightens under my scrutiny and shifts his weight to his other foot, avoiding my gaze. Money or blackmail is my best guess. Which means he could be reasoned with, if I get him alone.

Out of nowhere, Cora's hand sails through the dimly lit cell and lands hard against my left cheek. My heads whips to the side, a slow trickle of blood runs down my chin. I look up at her perky blond visage, for the first time feeling true hate running through my blood. I will make this bitch pay for what she's planning. The question will be in the timing.

"That's better, Rafe. I see my love tap has brought some spark back into you."

Justin's discomfort gets the better of him and he leaves the cell, closing the door behind him. Cora and Lucas share a look and Lucas shrugs. She bends down and brings her eyes close to my own. In a moment I feel her force of will probing against my mental shields, seeking entrance.

She's either trying to see what I know by directly invading my mind or is about to place compulsion on me to answer her questions. The training Dria and I have done over the decades holds and I don't feel the other woman's insidious presence invading my mind.

"We're going to ask you questions about your wife and you are going to answer all you know." Her mental strength feels immense and I probably wouldn't have been able to keep her out if I hadn't had Dria's blood last night.

"Okay," I play along, unsure if she knows she's not in control. A lie can't hurt and I can try and string them along while revealing very little.

Cora's features smooth out and a hint of relief flashes in her eyes before being quickly hidden. "Good." She paces to the far end of the room and back, eagerness vibrating in her movements.

"Is Alexandria a manipulator?"

"Yes," I answer immediately. They already know it so confirming it can't do her any more harm this late in the game.

A smile forms on the delicate face of the vampire who hates my wife beyond reason. "I always knew she must have had an edge when she hunted."

Professional jealousy can't have been her only motive, even she couldn't be that vain and petty. It's got to be something else. I'll be damned if I tell her Dria can't mind control a vampire she's never met and that her kills as an enforcer were legitimate ones based on skill. It would only piss her off more.

"Do you know of others with her abilities?"

"No." That one didn't require any lying, either. If there are any vampires with her precise skill level I've certainly never met them.

Cora stalks over and trails her gaze up and down the exposed flesh of my body. Interest glints in her eyes. I worry she might take things farther than I'm willing to fake. In what looks like a quick decision she straddles my lap. Her dark jeans rub across my thighs as she settles her weight onto me. I'm not tied to the chair, but if I make any move to hurl her off me, it would be quite apparent her compulsion didn't work.

I have to wait her out.

Besides my underwear, I'm still wearing the metal watch that never leaves me. They didn't think to remove it, and that small slip could be their undoing. There's a thin razor wire coiled inside the housing behind the watch face. Using it will be tricky and risking it now with two of them in the cell would be plain foolhardy. Best to wait for an opportunity to present itself.

A cool hand grips under my chin, the vampire's long nails digging painfully into the skin below my jaw. She tilts my head to the side and leans in to lick the blood off my chin. The rasp of her tongue against my stubble brings a fresh rush of goose bumps to my arms. What would have been an intimacy gladly shared with my wife has become a gross, manhandled version with Cora, reducing me to the status of food and nothing else.

"Come now, Cora." Lucas says. "This is no time to play."

A low rumble of pleasure comes from the bloodsucking bitch as she leans back from her task. "On the contrary. Haven't you ever wondered what makes him so special to attract Dria?"

My eyes dart to Lucas, grateful to see disgust in his expression. Cora twists around to her cohort. "What? If they're over twenty and heavily muscled you're not interested?"

Lucas sniffs and pulls himself up straight. "To each their own, Cora. And besides, I'm not hungry."

Cora returns her attention to me and runs her hands slowly over the defined planes of my chest. "Oh, but Lucas..." She leans closer and trails her pointed tongue down my neck. Her breath fans my deltoid as her mouth hesitates over my shoulder. "It isn't always about feeding..." She nips my flesh, making me involuntarily shift in my seat.

She takes my discomfort for interest and bites harder, stopping shy of puncturing my skin. "I think he might enjoy some alone time with me-wouldn't you, Rafe?" She presses her will out with her question, revealing her desires to me with that simple push of compulsion.

"Not in here," I say casually, hoping to steer her toward taking me someplace else within the underground lair. I need to get my bearings and figure a way out. "And certainly not with an audience." I run a hand down her back, just one, to convince her my words are spoken from the heart, not with guile.

She smiles, a self-satisfied expression, showing she got the reaction she'd hoped for. She climbs off my lap and can't resist looking down, eager to see if she stirred a response in my body. I can't fake an erection, so I look docilely ahead of me and let her think the compulsion is still in effect.

The next hit comes as a complete surprise, ringing my ears and flushing my face with anger. The backhanded blow was delivered with a closed fist that time, aiming for more pain. "I like to do my own sort of tenderizing to my meal ahead of time, dearie." The grin twisting her face looks cruel, triggering a flicker of doubt across my mind. If she plans to beat me before attempting to feed there is only so much cooperation I'll be able to fake before self-preservation kicks in.

The last memory of Dria being pummeled with the mace enters my mind, and I steel myself for the next punch. Cora's color runs high, and I have a feeling she may be one of the old ones who feeds off pain or fear, as well. A cold quiet washes through me as I brace for her fist. I can put up with anything, for as long as it takes, to save my wife from a situation worse than death. And I have no doubt that whatever they are planning, it is much worse than dying a vampire's true death.

Lucas approaches, pushing the sleeve of his right arm back. "Now, this is the kind of interrogation I prefer. Let me have a shot at him and then we'll continue the questions."

The two of them kept up their tag team beating for an hour before growing bored with my repetitive answers. There wasn't much I could say about the existence of other manipulators or their plans when I honestly didn't have any information to give them. The two of them so thoroughly believe there is some kind of conspiracy going on among manipulators that I fear what they have in store for Dria.

When I sagged my head forward in a not entirely feigned display of exhaustion, they left. I have no doubt they will be back.

Clearly, without some knowledge on my end to impart, I have become a very useless hostage at the moment. They won't reveal my presence to Dria until they deem her belief of my death is no longer useful to them. Holding back and taking the two vampires' abuse was harder than I anticipated. It would have been easier if I were tied up. Sitting here pretending to be helpless burned in my gut, but I knew if I revealed I wasn't controlled by Cora's vamp whammy I'd be in deep shit.

I drag myself to the bare cot in the corner and drop onto the stained fabric. The cold radiates off the wall and I debate on pushing the cot a few inches away just so I don't have to feel the chill coming off the stones. I'll wait a few minutes and let the cuts and swelling on my face go down first.

After the mental control exerted to not defend myself against two very powerful vampires at once, I need a moment to lie here and do nothing. A glance at my watch reveals it's almost three in the afternoon. Drew and Paul will be rising from their restorative sleep soon. Assuming the older of the two, Drew, would have waited up for my call this morning, they should be worried at not hearing from either of us.

If Drew follows procedure he and Paul will be on their way here once the sun goes down. Worry swells within me. The two won't have any idea of what they're walking into and I doubt their presence will be very helpful. It's times like this I think these fail-safe procedures aren't so freakin fail-safe.

A wizard working with Coraline? Could he be the one who crafted the charmed brooch she wore to Alaska this past January? Diana seemed sure it was the work of an experienced witch and I haven't heard of wizards stooping to such "parlor tricks", as they call them.

He looked competent and sure of himself, at least until the two vampires resorted to violence. What the hell did he think getting involved with a bunch of power hungry vampires would be like? A freakin' walk in the park? If I read his expression right, he could be a compassionate link I might be able to exploit further.

A sound in the corridor breaks into my musings. The heavy steel door swings open, and I roll over to see who is next to interrogate me. The lanky form of the wizard stands in the doorway, the brighter light from the hall casting his face in deep shadows.

With the flick of wrist, he tosses a wrapped bundle into the room. "Here. The stones make this place pretty cold." Without another word he leaves, drawing the door shut and locking me once more inside.

I wait until his footsteps retreat down the hall before getting up to investigate. I unwrap the long sleeves of a familiar shirt, to see a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, socks, a pair of shoes, some protein bars and a bottle of water. Justin brought my clothes from our suite. He didn't have to. He could have let me sit here in the cold.

As I get dressed, my mind races. Who is he, and why does he care? I sit on the cot and tear into the food and water, all too aware another captor could take them away if they so desired. The nutrition will not only help my body heal, it will keep me strong when I make a break for it.

Whoever that guy is, maybe I won't kill him when I get loose. Perhaps he doesn't deserve to die like the others. Unless, of course, that is exactly what I'm supposed to think.