Twisted: Brides of the Kindred 23 Read online

  But the wine must have gone down the wrong way. Nikki choked and gasped, feeling like her throat was getting tight. What was happening?

  Rising from the table, she grasped at her throat with both hands. She was beginning to feel afraid now—it was getting hard to breathe! What—

  Suddenly Malik was at her side.

  “What’s wrong, Mistress? What is it?” he asked urgently.

  “Can’t…breathe.” Nikki pointed at her throat and gasped some more.

  A grim look came over the big Kindred’s face. He grabbed the strange silver candlestick-looking thing the serving slave had called a “sniffer” and waved it over Nikki’s salad bowl. Nothing happened. But when he waved it over the golden goblet with the dark green liquor in it, the golden nubs at the end of the sniffer’s silver arms went crazy, lighting up and making a loud, ominous buzzing sound like some kind of alarm.

  “Just as I thought. Come on—we have to get the antidote!” Malik grabbed her by the arm and wrenched her away from the table. Nikki found she was running to keep up with him even as her throat kept getting tighter and tighter. The awful, constricting sensation made her remember a demonstration she’d seen in once in high school.

  A nurse had come to their Health class to talk about the dangers of smoking and how it could give you cancer and other horrible diseases like COPD—Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disorder. She had passed out straws to the entire class and then instructed them to pinch their noses and only breathe through the straw.

  Of course, very shortly the entire class was gasping for breath—it wasn’t easy getting all the oxygen you needed through such a tiny, narrow opening. The demonstration had really hit home with Nikki and she had never tried a single cigarette.

  Now, however, she was beginning to feel like she’d had a pack-a-day habit for the past twenty years. Her throat kept getting tighter and tighter and she was feeling dizzy because she couldn’t breathe. The opulent hallways whizzed by in a blur as she stumbled along after the big Kindred, trying to keep up with his quick pace.

  Just as she thought she was going to black out, they came to a stop in front of a small door at the end of a narrow corridor.

  “Here we are,” Malik announced. He yanked open the door, revealing a small room filled with glass cabinets. Opening one of the cabinets, he began searching through its contents, which Nikki couldn’t see. By now black flowers were blooming in front of her eyes and she could feel herself fading away even as she scrabbled weakly at her throat. She slumped to the ground.

  Air! Need air!

  “This should work,” Malik’s voice said.

  Somehow Nikki managed to focus on him and saw that he was holding up a syringe-type thing with the longest, sharpest needle she had ever seen.

  Seriously? That looks like something you’d use on an elephant—not a person!

  But before she could protest, Malik had pushed up the hem of the gown she was wearing and was stabbing the long, sharp needle into meaty part of her upper thigh.

  Nikki arched her back and howled soundlessly as a burning sensation began to spread through her entire body. It was as though every nerve she owned had been suddenly set on fire and the pain just kept getting more and more intense.

  Killing me—he’s killing me, she thought frantically. He was just waiting for a chance and this is it—he’s setting me on fire from the inside-out!

  But Malik wasn’t done yet. As soon as he yanked the huge needle out of her leg, he pulled out a small bottle of pink liquid and began trying to get her to swallow it.

  “No—no!” Nikki gasped. It didn’t occur to her that she could now breathe again and she had air to talk with—all she knew was that her entire body was on fire and she was desperately afraid the big Kindred was trying to kill her.

  “Take it!” Malik insisted. “You have to take it now, Mistress, before the symptoms reoccur. We don’t have much time!”

  “No!” Nikki tried to knock the bottle out of his hand but the big Kindred got her in a head lock and pried her mouth open with one hand. With the other, he dumped the bottle of pink liquid down her throat. Then he clamped her jaws shut, pinched her nose, and blew in her face.

  It was a variation of the way Nikki had given liquid antibiotics to her twins when they were too young to understand what was good for them and it worked on her just as it had worked on them. Her instincts took over and she swallowed, feeling the pink liquid—which was ice-cold—slide down her throat.

  At last Malik let go of her and she sat back, panting and shivering. The cold from the pink liquid seemed to be putting out the awful burning sensation in her nerves but it was small comfort, since now she felt like she was being frozen to death from the inside-out.

  “What…what d-d-did you d-do to m-me?” she demanded, her teeth chattering as she rubbed her arms to try and get warm. “W-what did you g-g-give me?”

  “An antidote to the poison you so foolishly took,” he growled, and for the first time, Nikki noticed, he didn’t call her “Mistress.”

  “A-antidote? I f-f-feel like I’m f-f-freezing to death!” she exclaimed.

  “That’s because it’s doing its job and rooting out the nanites,” he said grimly. “And it should be almost done so get ready. Do you want me to hold your hair?”

  “H-hold my h-hair? Why?” Nikki asked.

  But just then the biggest rush of nausea she’d ever felt rolled through her. It was like the stomach flu and the day after the time she’d gotten blind-drunk in college all rolled into one. Her stomach heaved and a jet of bright pink shot out of her mouth and splattered against the opposite wall.

  The stuff seemed to be liquid as it came from her mouth, but strangely, when it hit the air, it turned into a kind of fine, sparkly pink glitter with green specks in it. It was almost pretty but Nikki didn’t have time to admire the effect because another wave of nausea was rolling through her. And then another and another…

  Malik said nothing but he held her long hair away from her face and watched as she was wretchedly and repeatedly sick. Nikki couldn’t read the expression on his face—not that she could spare much thought for how the big Kindred was feeling when she herself was so miserable.

  Finally, when she felt as though her stomach had been turned completely inside-out, the awful sickness subsided. And after a few more dry heaves where nothing came out at all, the terrible urge to vomit finally passed.

  “Ohhhh…” Nikki moaned and wiped at her chin. It came away glittery—as though she’d been snacking on the contents of a kid’s craft table. She slumped to her side, her eyes half-closed. She wanted to get away from the shiny mess she’d left on the floor, but she was too weak to do anything but turn her head away and cry weakly.

  This is awful, she thought dismally. Horrible. She hated throwing up worse than anything. Dealing with Gary and his cheating ways and the kids’ issues back home would be better than this—anything would.

  Dimly, she heard Malik calling for a clean-up crew as well as security.

  “Detain the entire kitchen and serving crew,” he was saying. “Every last one. I want them in pain bracelets until one of them talks—we need to know who was behind the poisoning.”

  Then he was gathering her into his arms.

  “Come on, let’s get you up,” Nikki heard him say.

  “I can walk,” she protested weakly but it was a lie and they both knew it. Malik didn’t even bother to argue with her. He just lifted her and took her back to the BDSM bedroom. He laid her gently on the bed and then sat beside her, after carefully bolting the doors shut and setting some kind of alarm, Nikki thought. He looked into her face and frowned at her.

  “Now,” he rumbled, glaring down at her. “Tell me who in the Seven Hells you are. Because you damn sure aren’t Mistress Hellenix of Yonnie Six.”

  Chapter Ten

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Sophia brushed a hand over her husband’s high forehead, which was wrinkled in intense concentration. Sylvan only looked like thi