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Hidden by Blood
A Sweetblood Novella
Laurie London
MILLS & BOON
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Deep within the forests of the Pacific Northwest, two vampire coalitions battle for supremacy—Guardians who safeguard humanity and Darkbloods, rogues who will stop at nothing to satisfy their craving for the sweetest of human blood.
Now, former Army Ranger Finn McKentry finds himself imprisoned as a blood slave, forced to submit to an enemy more powerful than any he’s encountered before. Only Brenna Stewart, the woman he’d loved and lost, can set him free—but the secret she harbors might lead them down the most dangerous path of all…
“Dark and sinfully sexy.”
—New York Times bestselling author Cherry Adair on Bonded by Blood
A graduate of Western Washington University and a former tester/programmer for a Fortune 500 company, Laurie London writes from her home near Seattle, where she lives with her husband and two children.
She’s a member of Romance Writers of America®, Greater Seattle Area RWA, the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, and two book clubs.
When she’s not writing or reading, she can be found running, volunteering at school, taking care of a multitude of animals or riding and showing her horse. Someday she hopes to qualify for the Quarter Horse World Show—that is, if her horse doesn’t get hurt again.
Laurie loves to hear from readers. Please visit her online at
www.LaurieLondonBooks.com
www.Facebook.com/LaurieLondonAuthor
www.Twitter.com/LaurieBLondon
or email her at Laurie@LaurieLondonBooks.com.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Prologue
Two weeks ago
“This shouldn’t hurt. Well, maybe just a little.”
Finn McKentry clenched his fists and arched his back off the squalid mattress. The metal cuffs around his wrists and ankles dug painfully into his skin as heavy chains clanked against the cold stone floor. With a groan, he struggled, twisted and pulled against his restraints. As usual, nothing gave way, but that never stopped him from trying.
His captor arranged the supplies neatly on the metal tray and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. “Come now. You must relax, or you’ll create unnecessary bruising on the skin. And we don’t want that, do we?”
The man filled a syringe with a small amount of clear liquid, held it up to the light filtering into the room, and flicked it with one finger.
The alcohol-dipped cotton ball was cold on the inside of Finn’s arm and he turned his head away. He knew what was coming next but was powerless to stop it from happening. Frustrated by his helplessness, Finn tensed every muscle. Beads of sweat trickled down from his hair despite the cool air. He hadn’t entirely given up hope that he’d figure a way out of here, but with each passing day, that hope was quickly diminishing.
“Calm down, please. If this vein collapses like the other, I’ll be forced to use the one behind your knee, which I understand is a very tender area. Either that or your groin. And that wouldn’t be pleasant for either of us, I’m afraid.”
Finn sucked in a loud hiss of air as the needle went in. That damn anticoagulant stung like a sonofabitch every single time. With a deadly efficiency, the man attached vial after vial to the needle, carefully capping each one after it was filled.
Finn tried to distance himself from his emotions, focusing instead on every individual detail with a detached curiosity. It was a technique from Army Ranger SERE training, where they were taught survival, evasion, resistance and escape tactics. Little had he known at the time that he would end up using those skills not as a prisoner in Afghanistan or Iraq, but stateside, after retiring from active duty to run his own helicopter sightseeing business.
It had been after dark when he’d met the man at the small regional airport last week. The guy had seemed sincere enough on the phone when he made an appointment to see the city lights by helicopter. He’d said something about a wealthy employer. However, when he’d stepped out of the Bentley and Finn had walked up to shake his hand, everything had changed.
The man’s pleasant, cordial expression had suddenly disappeared as he’d hurriedly pulled out a white handkerchief and touched it to his upper lip. At the time, Finn had assumed it was nerves—many people were anxious the first time they flew in a helicopter. The man had glanced around and steered Finn to the back of the car using some flimsy excuse about needing to change his shoes. Before Finn knew what was happening, he’d been overpowered and shoved into the trunk. During the bumpy ride here, the knots on his restraints had proved to be so tight that even his survival school trainer would’ve been stumped.
He scrutinized his captor now. With his neatly trimmed dark hair and country-club clothes, he seemed laughably out of place in this hell-hole. At no more than five-foot-seven, the guy was almost feminine in stature, with narrow shoulders and small hands. Finn could easily picture a gust of wind buffeting him on a city sidewalk. His back would be hunched against the rain; he’d have a newspaper in one hand and the collar of his GQ wool trench coat clutched tightly in the other.
But as Finn had learned all too well, fancy clothes and a Fifth Avenue haircut couldn’t hide the monster underneath.
“That’s a good patient.” The man smiled without looking up from his task, the tips of his fangs making small indentions on his lower lip. His pupils had expanded as they always did the minute Finn’s blood started filling those vials, leaving just a narrow ring of his pale-green irises visible. “When you give in and stop fighting, it makes it so much easier for both of us.”
Anger boosted Finn’s resolve. “Bloody sonofabitch, I’ll kill you.”
If the guy were human, Finn would’ve kicked his ass. He might have spent the last few months running San Juan Aviation, and visiting relatives in Scotland before that, but taking down an enemy combatant wasn’t something a Ranger forgot how to do.
Yeah, he’d have snapped the little fucker like a toothpick if he’d been human.
But considering the guy was a vampire, Finn knew he didn’t stand a chance.
Chapter One
Brenna Stewart couldn’t wait for the evening to end. She refolded the curled scrap of paper in her lap and turned to the friend seated next to her.
“Thanks, Lil, for road-tripping it down here with me. I don’t know if I could get through this without you.”
“An hour or so southeast of Seattle is hardly a road trip. Besides, I wouldn’t have missed it.” Although Lily DeGraff smiled, the absent look in her eyes didn’t fade. Brenna thought about poking Lily with the toe of her shoe or flashing her a goofy smile, but she didn’t do either quickly enough, and now the master of ceremonies was getting ready to announce another name.
She sat up stiffly, hoping it wasn’t her turn yet. Lily reached over and gave her a reassuring pat on the hand.
The two of them had met shortly after Lily was assigned to the Seattle field office. Although they had very different backgrounds, they shared a lot of the same interests and could talk for hours about books and the latest documentary on PBS. Lately, their lives had gotten so busy that they didn’t get together as often as they used to. But when they did, it was as if no time had passed at all, and they easily slipped into the banter of old friends.
Brenna lowered her voice. “Are you sure I don’t have lipstick on my teeth?”
“For the hundredth time, no,” Lily said with a dramatic sigh. “You look great, Bren. You’re well prepared for this. It’s not every day you get awarded a full-ride scholarship that allows you to attend medico school. Focus on your goal, not this current unpleasantness.”
Brenna had been working as a vampire medic, the equivalent of a human EMT, but her dream was to continue her medical training with the goal of becoming a physician. She wanted to treat and solve injuries and illnesses, not just put bandages on them.
“I’m a creature of habit, Lil. I don’t handle new and different very well.”
“Then I’d say you’re hosed, love.”
Brenna found her friend’s exasperated tone mildly reassuring, yet it did nothing to stop her racing pulse. No matter how many times she told herself she was ready for this speech, she was still a bundle of nerves. Was this what Jung had meant when he’d talked about dynamic opposition, two opposing forces colliding? Glancing around the elegant ballroom, she recognized a few faces from Seattle’s small vampire population, including several Council elders, and her heart thundered even louder in her ears.
“Gee, thanks, but—”
“Shush. You can put up with a little—” Lily hesitated as a dark-haired man rose from a nearby table when his name was called. He dodged the tables and chairs with the grace of a jungle cat. But just as quickly, she finished her thought. “—discomfort.”
It’d be good for Lily to hook up with someone, Brenna decided. Get her mind off things. As the man sauntered past their table, he touched the back of Lily’s chair, his gaze lingering on her bare shoulders. There was a time when a look like that would’ve meant the two of them would be hooking up before the night was over. But tonight Brenna wasn’t so sure.
Like most of their kind, her friend regarded her voracious sexual appetite as a natural way to channel excess aggression. Hunting humans for bloodsport was considered barbaric today—only Darkbloods, rogue vampires who lived on the fringe of their civilized society, believed otherwise.
Centuries ago, when the elders realized they could survive on only the occasional sip of blood combined with regular absorption of human energy, vampires had begun to live peacefully and in secret among the human population. But because vampires had learned to contain their need for blood, this excess aggression had to go somewhere, so their need for sex increased. Vampire-owned establishments often had private rooms where their patrons could engage in sexual activity. This elegant old estate was probably no exception, Brenna thought, remembering a bank of doors in the vestibule.
“He was totally checking you out,” she whispered.
“What?”
“That guy up there. Mr. Handsome. He was checking you out.”
Lily didn’t even look at the stage, just picked at her red-tipped nails. “Bren, I’m not ready for that. Not now.”
“I think it’d be good for you. I’m not talking commitment or anything. Just, you know, a distraction.” God knows she could use one.
Just over a year ago, Lily’s significant other had been presumed killed in a massive explosion when Guardians stormed a Darkblood facility where macabre experiments were being done on sweetbloods, humans with a rare blood type that was extremely addictive to vampires. He had worked undercover in the Darkblood Alliance for years, with Lily as his Agency contact. A few months later, Lily had discovered he hadn’t died after all. He just hadn’t wanted to be with her any longer. She’d taken his betrayal pretty hard and hadn’t fully been herself since.
“What about you, eh?” Lily’s Canadian accent seemed more noticeable when she was about to say something snarky. “Maybe you should sweep him into a dark corner and feel his…assets.”
“Ha. I’m too busy to be involved with someone right now.” The minute she said it, Brenna wished she could take the words back. Those were the exact words she’d used when she’d broken things off with the man she’d once loved. Though she’d been lying when she’d spoken them.
Before Lily could reply, Phillip Creighton, assistant to Mr. Westfalen, tapped a finger on the microphone. Westfalen himself sat on the stage in his wheelchair, a wool blanket covering his legs, and stared absently into space. A wealthy philanthropist who donated money to various vampire causes as well as a few human ones, he seemed nothing but a shell today, oblivious to the fanfare going on around him.
Brenna sighed wistfully, recalling how an elderly patient had once told her that living for centuries wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
“And our next scholarship recipient is Miss Brenna Stewart.”
She swallowed hard and stood, smoothing down the crimson silk of her evening gown.
“Knock ’em dead, Bren.”
“Thanks.” She managed to approach the stage as Mr. Creighton continued the introduction.
“Mr. Westfalen is pleased to bestow upon Miss Stewart the Westfalen Award of Excellence in order for her to begin medico training. Her goal is to open her own clinic here in the area in order to help Guardians who suffer regeneration setbacks like her father, Dutch Stewart—who, as we all know, was a very great man indeed.”
The room erupted in applause and Mr. Creighton held out his hand to her in gracious welcome. His words echoed in her mind as she moved toward the stage. Her father’s reputation was legendary in the community. One of the first Guardians to work out of the Seattle field office, he’d helped establish many of the policies and procedures still in use today. But during a raid on a Darkblood cell, he’d been stabbed with an unusual blade made from highly potent Mexican silver. Severely injured, he’d been unable to return to work and had died a few years later from his wounds. Knowing that the clapping was primarily because of him made things a bit more bearable.
She climbed the five steps to the stage, careful not to step on the hem of her gown. Although grateful for the award, she wished it didn’t involve all this attention. Working one on one with patients was much easier.
After limping through her acceptance speech without too many blunders, Brenna was relieved when it was finally over and everyone turned their attention to the next award recipient. When the last speaker had wrapped up and all the pictures were taken, she exited the ballroom, stepping through the French doors onto the terrace. Away from everyone, she was finally able to catch her breath again. She pulled out her cell phone. Her mom would be eager to hear how the ceremony had gone.
Great. No signal. She shoved the cell into her handbag. She’d have to make the call after they got back on the road.
“You’re welcome to use the house phone, Miss Stewart.”
Brenna jumped. She hadn’t heard Mr. Creighton approaching. His tone reminded her of the way people spoke in old Hollywood movies, their voices vaguely condescending and their accents quasi-British.
“Unfortunately, out here in the wilds at the base of the Cascade Mountains, cellular service is terribly lacking.”
“That’s okay, sir. I can make the call later.”
“Very well.” He turned and left.
How much longer should she stay? What was the protocol for these things? She had smiled for dozens of pictures and thanked old Mr. Westfalen even though she couldn’t be certain he’d understood her. She’d watched tonight as others had spoken to him; each time, he’d given the same blank smile while continually patting the head of a large German Shepherd guide dog who never left the side of his wheelchair. A former Council member from the old days, when the vampire governing body had still been called the Night Brethren, he had many esteemed guests in attendance tonight, which had only heightened Brenna’s discomfort. Small talk with socialites wasn’t her forte any more than public speaking was. And neither was dressing up, she reflected as she looked at her gown. More comfortable in scrubs, she couldn’t wait to get home and change. Even in these low kitten heels, her feet were killing her.
She peered through the windows into the ballroom, hoping to catch Lily’s attention. During her brief acceptance speech, Lily had nodded and smiled, greatly boosting Brenna’s confidence, but she hadn’t seen her friend in a while. While posing for pictures with the other award recipients, Brenna had lost track of her. Maybe Lily had hooked up with Mr. Handsome after all.
Turning her attention to the impressive English gardens and a large, stately equestrian facility just beyond it, Brenna noticed several people on their cell phones.
Good. There must be coverage down there.
She’d call her mom and wander through the barn, away from all the small talk. Hopefully, that’d give Lily enough time to finish up with that guy so they could leave.
The change in temperature was noticeable as Brenna strolled down the path toward the barn, so she pulled her thin wrap up to cover her shoulders. A few minutes later, she slid open the double doors and was greeted by a chorus of nickers.
“Sorry, guys. I’m not here to feed you.” She felt more relaxed already as she stepped inside, the tension from the evening slipping away.
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