Page 6 of The Last Sacrifice

So she did..

She had rolled out of bed, thrown clothes into a bag. Fear clawing at her, she had barely taken the time to hug her grandmother. Not daring to tell her anything, afraid to place her in danger. She had left without a word of goodbye.

At first, driving towards random states, she emptied her life savings, which hadn’t been much. The local bar where she worked didn’t pay great. but some money was better than none. She abandoned her phone, sold her car, and frequently changed her course.

But none of it had been enough. Here she was lying on a cheap bed, In another discount motel, handcuffed to the man that for weeks filled her dreams with nightmares.

Panic was consuming her thoughts. She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the growing headache that was making it hard to focus. She had to calm down and think. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t remember how she got here. What mattered was how she was going to get out.

First step was to unlock the handcuff. Second step was to get out before something worse happened. The one thing she knew for certain was that she didn’t want to meet the pale vampire who had ordered all this to happen.

When her power had grown as a child, her grandmother sat with her and explained that the world was not the way her parents had taught. That she was an Arcandian, a descendant of the Nephilim. Part of a hidden world that lived amongst the humans.

Witches, vampires and Lycan were the most common, but there were others. Even angels and demons walked the streets and drank coffee.

Her parents, completely mortal. Refused to let her go learn with her grandmother’s coven. So her favorite relative had moved next door. Instead of learning to bake cookies with her granny, she learned to cast spells and embrace her Arcandian gifts.

Talia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, centering herself before reaching for the warm glow that protected her magic. But nothing flickered to her call. She didn’t tingle as she did when she used her ability. Not a single spark.

She struggled to keep her breathing calm as she called for it again. She only needed a little. A bit of power to ease the lock open. Tears filling her eyes, she reached out again and again. The only thing she accomplished, a wave of dizziness making her head pound more now than ever.

Her stomach rolling, mouth watering, she gulped hard against the taste of bile filling the back of her throat.

She was going to throw up.

Moving fast, she rolled to her side. Her stomach heaving. She doubled over, coughing and gagging, until she vomited down the side of the bed. Tears running down her face as her stomach contorted again. She shuddered as she emptied out everything she had eaten in the past two days. Her breath coming fast, sweat beading across her forehead, she couldn’t control her shivering.

“At least I know the drug is working,” the deep growling voice sounded behind her.

Talia stilled, closing her eyes against the grim tone of his voice. She was not some damsel in distress. Yet now that he was awake. She was terrified to look behind her. To look at the man himself.

“What...” the word a croak of sound. With a quick gesture, she cleared her throat and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“What drug?”

“Every time you try to do magic, the drug in your veins will make you sick.”

Her arm was being pulled in his direction as she felt the bed shift under his weight. With a sudden movement, he pulled her towards him, making her face him.

Talia glared up at him. Her voice seizing in her throat as she stared at his back. Scars of all sizes crisscrossed over his back. Some knife or bullet wounds, but most looked like deep lacerations from some kind of archaic whip. Too many scars to count at a single glance.

Her fingers curling into the sheets as he turned to stare at her.

Mountains of dense muscle bound in tattoos and scars. His eyes seemed to glint in the dim room like molten rubies.

This man was gorgeous.

Chiseled from marble and steel, his face was all hard angles and planes, with a rugged jawline covered in a near perfect nine o’clock shadow. Not a sign of softness to be seen.

Bad guys shouldn’t be this good looking.

His entire demeanor was a menacing masculinity, emphasized by the gleaming red wolf’s eyes that met her gaze.

He smirked, sending a flurry of nerves to twist through her stomach as his gaze traveled over her form.

“Take your clothes off,”

Her heart almost skipped a beat as icy fear slammed into her.