Blood Torn (Blackthorn Book 3) Page 2

  Feeling an alien flush in her cheeks, she moved back slightly to forge some distance between them before getting to her feet.

  She was going to wipe the smug look off his face.

  But as she lifted her leg again, he knocked it aside, as he did her right fist and then her left as she tried twice to strike him.

  Since she’d joined The Alliance, Zach had taught her everything she needed to know about one-on-one combat – if not to take an opponent down completely, then at least long enough to get away.

  She paused for only a split second before increasing the onslaught, hitting out at him with clean and precise moves, only to have him fend them off swiftly and accurately before knocking her leg from under her again.

  She fell back down, brushed her hair from her eyes in irritation before glowering up at him.

  ‘You’ve spent too long fighting vampires, honey,’ he said.

  The playful challenge in his eyes incensed her. The mocking in his tone, the derision in his eyes, triggered her indignation more.

  She knew better than to fight unless she was in complete control of her temper but this was now just as much about pride as escaping. Instead of taking the moment she needed to escape, she got back to her feet.

  She picked up pace, using every move she had been taught in quick succession, catching him several times but never with enough force or at the right angle to make any impact.

  ‘Are you scared to fight me?’ she demanded, frustrated by his purely defensive moves.

  ‘You want to exhaust yourself, you go ahead.’

  She sped up, increasing the speed of her moves, adrenaline pumping as she went at him harder. He missed a couple of her shots, allowing her to make impact with his chest and knee, but it was nowhere near enough to take him down. She knew she was being less precise, fuelled by her anger rather than tactics.

  And this time, when he kicked her legs from under her, he purposefully went down on top of her.

  She lifted her knees nimbly against her chest, ready to use the remaining strength in her thighs as leverage to force him off her, but he instantly closed the gap. He forced her thighs to part either side of his hips, spreading her legs further with the power of his, locking her ankles down to the ground with his own at the same time as pinning her arms to the ground either side of her head.

  Despite the futility, she tried to writhe and buck beneath him, but not one inch of his hard, tensed body was moveable.

  Gasping, she let the back of her head hit the ground, panting as she looked up into his eyes, every inch of her resounding in umbrage at her helplessness.

  ‘Done?’ he asked, the calm in his eyes infuriating her as much as the effortlessness with which he held her to the floor.

  She tightened her hands into fists. ‘Get off me,’ she all but growled.

  ‘Are you done?’ he repeated, his tone taking on an impatient edge that escalated her agitation.

  She defiantly held his gaze, feeling every inch of the power behind his body, the heat emanating between them. As he watched her a little too intently for comfort, mesmerising her with his quiet confidence, she felt another unfamiliar stirring. ‘If it means you’ll get those feral hands off me, yes, I’m done.’

  She grudgingly stilled as she awaited his response; gazed at the masculine lips that hovered inches from hers before looking back into his eyes.

  He lowered himself a few inches, his biceps straining distractedly against his shirt. ‘Vampires might bite, honey, but lycans tear. You might want to bear that in mind next time you try and take me on.’

  With only another moment’s linger on her gaze, he released her wrists, eased off her, grabbing her arm to pull her to her feet along with him.

  ‘You don’t know what you’ve got yourself into,’ she declared, unable to suppress her indignation.

  ‘You can tell me all about it back at the compound,’ he said, only to hoist her up over his shoulder.

  Her cheeks flushed from the blood rushing to her head, let alone the humiliation. ‘Put me down!’ she demanded, slamming a fist into his back as she tried to kick at his groin.

  Her retaliation only evoked him to hold her tighter though, her clenched fist barely having any impact on his solid back.

  She glowered down at the ground that swayed beneath her, forced her elbows into his back to regain some kind of control, but they reached the shed in no time.

  He slid her down onto her feet, catching her forearm as she stumbled with the motion.

  Rone and Samson were already helmeted up and astride their motorbikes in the far corner.

  Corbin stood nearer by, his arms folded as he smirked in amusement at Jask. ‘She’s going to be a lot of trouble. Are you sure she’s worth the effort?’

  ‘You know me – I love a challenge. Taming could become my new favourite pastime,’ Jask said, tugging her over to the nearest motorbike. He unhooked something from the seat, and turned to clasp one cuff of the handcuffs over her right wrist.

  He lifted the helmet off the seat and shoved it on her head, before guiding her astride his motorbike. Sitting in front of her, he pulled her other wrist around his taut waist, cuffing her hands together at his lap, the position forcing her intimately against his back.

  She clenched her hands and fought against leaning against him. But she was given no other option as Jask revved the engine.

  Sophia quickly found somewhere to rest her feet and braced herself just as they sped off, kicking up dust behind them.

  Chapter Two

  Sophia held on tight as Jask’s bike ripped through the barren outskirts of the east side of Blackthorn, the wasteland and abandoned warehouses soon replaced with the high-rise, compacted buildings that enclosed the district’s hub.

  Blackthorn: just one rotten core of thousands more. Cores set up and partitioned off to contain the third species since their outing eighty years before.

  The Global Council, a panel of humans elected as advocates for their own race, had done so as their promise for safety for all humans. What were once cities, towns and villages had been disbanded under the regulations into socially segregated areas now called locales – the third species contained in the nucleus of a further three encircling districts. Contained until they’d proved themselves safe, as they so claimed.

  And each locale was managed by its own law enforcement division ensuring that happened. Established as part of the Global Council’s regulations, the Third Species Control Division was responsible for maintaining order amongst the vampires, the lycans, and whatever other third species crawled the dark streets in their patch.

  But the system was failing.

  Not least because there was no segregation anymore. Not unless you were part of the elite – humans who had earned their place in the far reaches of the locale, across the most highly guarded of all the borders in the exclusive third-species-free Summerton. Or even Midtown – the next notch down. The rest of the humans were forced to live in the under-privileged Lowtown, mingling with the third species allowed to reside there, right next to the now weak borders of the infested Blackthorn.

  Back when the regulations were put in place, residents of Lowtown had been promised that, despite being given the dregs in terms of provisions, opportunities and medical care, they would at least get protection. But along with many other changes in the authorities’ priorities, the resources to fulfil that promise soon dwindled. And vinegar was only smeared onto the wound of their neglect by the fact that some third species, such as the Higher Order – vampire royalty – were deemed more worthy than humans, their privileged residence in Midtown a painful contention.

  For too long now, humans outside of Summerton and Midtown had been nothing more than by-products of a deteriorating system. The authorities had long lost sight of what was really going on – both Lowtown and Blackthorn now rife with corruption under the rule of a few pivotal third-species leaders. Worse, those same authorities no longer gave a damn about the humans caught in the crossfire.
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  And very few had opportunities to improve their situation, especially financially. Those that did were ousted with threats against themselves or their families if someone bigger or better connected wanted to take their place. Because with opportunities so few anyway, only the very toughest survived or those who were in with the right cliques.

  Subsequently, a selfish human society had formed. Humans learned survival of the fittest by down-treading, down-beating, threatening, bullying and controlling even their own.

  As a result, increasing numbers of humans opted to live in Blackthorn instead – to become permanent residents in the protective cocoons created by their vampire owners or, as they liked to call themselves, sires. It was a derogatory and controlling term that Sophia loathed. But that’s how the feeder-vampire relationship was, no matter how they painted it. The sires fed and housed their human feeders and, above all else, gave them protection in a place where the latter was top of the hierarchy of need. Without protection, you didn’t survive long enough to need food and shelter. In the wrong hands, you’d rather starve.

  It was a part of the Blackthorn culture that sickened Sophia and one that she’d long believed the TSCD should do more to control. But feeders never grassed on their sires. Treachery was dealt with brutally. And with no way of ever getting out of Blackthorn or Lowtown, they knew only too well that the authorities were the last ones able to help them. Once you fell, you just kept falling.

  Which is why The Alliance, a cohort of human vigilantes, had taken it upon themselves to succeed where the authorities failed. Which is why Sophia worked Blackthorn every night, weaving her way into the third-species underworld. For the past ten months, she had mingled in the very abyss of it, seeing for herself that, like mould, its rankness was seeping into every aspect of the district and that it had to be stopped.

  The Alliance would bring back equality for all humans. And it would start with ending third-species control in Blackthorn – the bullying, the blackmail, the protection rackets. The Alliance would bring down the key underworld players one by one. Control would be regained. The humans forced to live in Lowtown or Blackthorn would finally be safe, just as had been promised by the very authorities who had since abandoned them.

  If she could get back to The Alliance to warn her colleagues their furtive operation had been exposed.

  When she escaped the uncompromising lycan leader she was cuffed to.

  Through the darkened shield of Sophia’s rain-spattered visor, the streets were nothing more than blurred, opaque shades of grey against the backdrop of the pending dawn. The throbbing growl of the bike drowned out the noise that consistently permeated the dense core of the district – not least the low, rhythmic thrum of bass music that could be heard even at the periphery of Blackthorn where they were heading.

  Despite her suppressed senses creating a sense of detachment, let alone the surrealism of who she was cuffed to, she couldn’t escape reality entirely. Her head may have been cocooned in the visor, but her body certainly wasn’t – her arms locked around the lycan leader’s toned waist, her chest pressed up against the heat of his solid back. Jask must have been laughing to himself at her attempt to take him on out on the wasteland. If he was capable of laughing, that was. From what she’d heard, a sense of humour was one department he was severely lacking in.

  Not that it mattered. She wouldn’t be around long enough for any of it to matter. This was just a temporary setback. And that’s what she had to keep telling herself to stop the tightness in her chest developing into panic.

  Not that her panic couldn’t be justified considering where she was being taken. But, for now, it was panic suppressed by curiosity. Insight into the compound was something a rare few outside of the lycan community ever had access to – unless Jask planned on you never getting out again. She had no doubt he intended the same for her. But he’d learn soon enough.

  Avoiding the complication of navigating the motorbikes through the compacted and overpopulated hub, the lycans wove through the backstreets and alleys. And despite her indignation at being manacled to her captor, even she had to admire the smooth proficiency with which he controlled the powerful machine. The lycans’ reputation for swift responses and superior spatial awareness was unarguably confirmed as Jask and his pack skimmed through narrow gaps and skirted obstacles before Sophia even had time to process what they’d passed.

  But then the whole of the past three days had been difficult to process – ever since she’d woken up flat on her back on a stinking mattress. She’d woken groggily and with a heavy dose of disorientation from the blow to her head. Woken to a vampire feeding on her, her inner thigh wet from her blood and his saliva.

  Marid.

  The restraints that held her to the rusty metal bed-frame had left her helpless. And if there was one thing that sent her temper soaring, it was being helpless. Despite her weakened state, she’d bucked and cursed and threatened.

  Marid had responded with a sharp slap to her face, adding to her humiliation. And she’d glared back at him with gritted teeth despite the tears welling.

  She’d been convinced it was all over for her. Not least in the hours that had passed. And, at times, she’d wanted it to end. Contemplated if death was better than the pain. The pain that she had lived with for years which was nothing to do with Marid.

  Then when Marid had finally told her she wasn’t just another in his long line of human victims – those kidnapped and sold on for profit to the underworld – that he knew of The Alliance, and that he was next on her hit list, she’d turned her anger inwards. She’d been overheard mentioning his name, no doubt when she’d had a drink too many. Somewhere along the line she’d been stupid, careless, reckless – all well-established traits that she’d always known would eventually be her downfall.

  And she had no doubt they would have been if two other vampires hadn’t turned up to collect her. Two vampires that had apparently heard whispers that Marid had got his hands on an Alliance member. And luckily, if there was one thing Marid valued more than vengeance and a free feed, it was money.

  She only wished she possessed as much insight into the mystery that was Jask Tao.

  They swept past the carcass of the museum that marked the entry into the northern side of Blackthorn – lycan territory.

  Jask’s territory.

  Kane Malloy ruled the east of Blackthorn and Caleb Dehain the west, with both vampires rumoured to have vested interests in the south. Both had become far too powerful. Both were top of The Alliance’s hit list.

  As for Jask, he may have been leader of a minor third species in comparison, he may head up a pack that kept themselves to themselves, but he wasn’t to be underestimated. This was reinforced by the fact he’d recently courageously spoken out against the Third Species Control Division and played a significant part in exposing their corruption.

  Worrying enough had been Jask’s unprecedented appearance in court two weeks before to do so. An appearance that had corroborated the claims of the Vampire Control Unit’s golden agent, Caitlin Parish, that the elite subdivision of the TSCD had used two of his lycan pack as pawns in an attempt to bring down their most wanted, Kane Malloy.

  Even more troubling was proof that, with the authorities having been brash enough to take on the notorious master vampire, not least because of the potential aftermath for the human residents of Blackthorn and the surrounding Lowtown, no one was safe from their insane judgement.

  Not only had even more mistrust of the authorities descended on Lowtown and Blackthorn; many had been left uneasy that the whole situation was anything but concluded despite the prosecution and incarceration of those responsible.

  More so, Jask’s alleged association with Kane Malloy in bringing the TSCD to so-called justice had left many nervous of what a collaboration like that meant for the future of Blackthorn. Any vampire and lycan associations or conflict made the authorities nervous – and those suspected of such were ousted and incarcerated.

 
And now there was Jask claiming he’d found her at the perfect time. Nothing good could come from lycans having a serryn – not where keeping the peace with the vampiric community was concerned. On top of everything else, the last thing the humans in Blackthorn needed was to be trapped in a civil war between the third species.

  Which was why being up close and personal with the usually inaccessible Jask Tao didn’t have to be a disaster. Instead, she needed to turn it around to the perfect opportunity to find out not just what went on inside the lycan compound, but what was currently going on inside Jask’s head.

  As they weaved closer and closer to the lycan compound, even the comparatively quieter streets had their fair share of revellers spilling out from the closing bars. A few inebriated residents stepped in front of the bikes, and Sophia tightened her grip on Jask as he and the others swerved effectively around them.

  Jask took a sharp right down a back alley, skimming through a gap in a chain-link fence before slowing his pace as they arrived at the far side of a courtyard.

  Coming to a standstill outside corrugated metal doors, he switched off the ignition as the others drew up behind him.

  Sophia took a moment to collect herself – her body still buzzing from the reverberations of the engine, adrenaline still pumping from the ride, her heart pounding. She had to stay calm – not let him see or hear her fear.

  Jask promptly unfastened Sophia’s cuffs at his waist as the corrugated door was pushed open from the inside. Easing off the bike, he gave the lycan now looming in a doorway an acknowledging nod before turning his attention back to Sophia.

  Despite her conviction during the ride that this was all under her control, self-doubt took the lead again.

  ‘You want to walk this time?’ he asked as she freed herself from the enclosure of the helmet.

  Regardless of the unnerving heaviness of her legs as she dismounted the bike, the amusement in the cocky bastard’s eyes grated too much. ‘Whatever makes you feel more masculine,’ she said, refusing to disguise her sneer. ‘You’re the one with something to prove it seems – not me.’