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  lips. His own tongue curled up in his mouth wanting to shout for her

  to go faster. God she was killing him.

  Yes, the glass was moving in an arc that culminated in her lips.

  What were her teeth like? Would she make him wonder by barely

  parting her lips? Damn, she was a tease. The rim of the glass glided

  past the pout of her lower lip, and her head tilted ever so slightly back.

  This woman would make a killing on Madison Avenue. Those lips

  alone could sell vodka to someone allergic to alcohol.

  And touch down. Cup lowered, he watched her throat for signs of a

  swallow. God, she was savoring the taste, moving it around in her

  mouth. Her jaws moved side to side as if saying 'no' to him.

  God damn it swallow. And there it was, going down. How far

  down did her throat go? How much could she take without gagging?

  Closing his eyes to rid himself of the thought, he missed the final

  descent of the liquid churning past her esophagus and heading down

  to the stomach held in by the tightness of her skirt.

  12

  His eyes opened with a snap. How much had his meditation cost

  him? Ah, good. She was putting the cup down, and a little sloshed

  over the side of the rim and beaded down the fluted sides to pool on

  the tray. Her head bobbed, eye lids closing while she slid down into

  the seat, collapsing in a heap, head against her knees.

  Blood had spoken and vindication was his. No one would question

  him ever again after a few weeks. He'd pegged her from the first sniff

  in Rome and all the shadowing and wrangling to get this gig was pay

  dirt. Constantine arched his neck back and howled, sound-proof cars

  rocked as did tinted glass. Humans did have some usefulness with

  their inventions and he'd let some live. But they really had to do

  something about L.A.

  Crunching the gearshift into drive, he careened out of the cul-de-sac

  and let other driver's yield to him as he merged with traffic. A flick of

  his eyes showed a very lovely woman had fallen sideways in the back

  of his car. Saliva ran down the sides of his fangs, and he wiped the

  liquid residue that didn't get swallowed back onto his sleeve.

  Game time.

  13

  CHAPTER TWO

  Constantine glided into the garage and killed the engine as the

  automatic door creaked on its descent, shutting out the last putrid rays

  of sun. Dry heaves, building up since waiting for her outside,

  wracked his body. Now in safety, he let his body go into convulsions.

  Acid welled up in his mouth, and he kicked his door open to spit out

  the remnants of burnt stomach contents onto the pavement.

  Steam billowed up from what he had regurgitated, filling the

  blessed darkness with a stench that he loathed. But she was worth it.

  She had to be worth it. His body ached too much when she was near

  for this to be a worthless lark that would erase his name from the list

  of contenders.

  Cold chills swirled into the heat skimming down his spine, ending

  in a riot of pinpricks going into his groin. No, she was the right one

  for him ... if, if she could be turned and if she survived the turning.

  And if no one back stabbed him or tried to annihilate him in the

  process. So many ifs.

  Footsteps approached, cadence alerting him to Jason's presence

  even before the inner door opened bringing in candle light and the

  held back dead air the warehouse had filled with since the last

  carcasses were crated off for human consumption. He didn't bother

  looking up with the drool still dripping from his lips and etching into

  the concrete with a mixture of blood diluted acid.

  A water bottle materialized before his bone dry eyes. "Drink.

  There are electrolytes in it to replenish your blood and get the taste

  out of your mouth." Jason unscrewed the top and held the bottle

  against Constantine's lips until fingers grasped it.

  Constantine took a long swig, pushing whatever still wanted to

  evacuate back down into his stomach to find another way out of his

  body. "Thanks."

  "The guys are inside, handpicked to be the least likely to disobey."

  He held the driver's door open so Constantine could slowly get to his

  feet.

  14

  "Nice choice of words." Constantine gripped the top of the door and

  lumbered to a standing position. Damn cars never had enough

  shielding and fuck L.A. for not allowing the front window to be fully

  tinted. What about driver rights?

  "They're American. What can I say? You deserving their

  allegiance hasn't been proven to them. You wanted this mission secret

  so I had to pull from local muscle. And L.A. doesn't lead to the best

  of the species. Only losers would get this as their range." Jason

  moved away from the door so Constantine could shake himself.

  Constantine twisted his arms side to side by the elbows to get his

  spine to expel pent up heat and shook his long hair; the webbing

  between his long spindly fingers sweating off the remnants of

  poisonous sun. He opened his mouth and sucked the cooler air

  through his front teeth and fangs, whistling with each inhalation.

  "Should I be laughing at American Gangsters in a dilapidated meat

  factory? There might even be a meat truck lurking around here."

  Constantine slammed the door closed behind him. He never wanted

  to step into another car during the daylight hours, Jesus.

  "Thought you might appreciate the irony." Jason stood with his

  hands clasped behind his back, head raised but eye lowered.

  Constantine gave him a once over, far too perfect not to be reading

  his mind on some level. No one read people this well without a little

  help from the blood, the amount of planning free of hitches, the ideal

  location, all masterly done with little of his own oversight leaving him

  free to prowl and stalk the prey. There was no way this was all

  because Jason was smart; there was something more at play.

  One hurdle at a time, Jason wouldn't have a chance for quite a

  while to show the true blood, and by then Jason would be entwined in

  doing Constantine's work. Handled right, Jason could be made to feel

  duty-bound to honor Constantine's help in moving up the ranks. And

  that would be pay dirt if one day they had neighboring territories.

  Also he would know Jason's proclivities inside and out.

  Constantine ground his heels through the padding of the dress

  shoes. Focus on the now; he had to stop being two or three steps

  ahead of everyone else and think about the treat inside the car, candy

  15

  until it woke up and turned into a diabetic's worst nightmare. He

  needed to act before her body neutralized the toxin and she became

  the venomous biting snake he couldn't wait to torment onto the

  defensive.

  The bulge in his pants swelled, making him antsy. Time to get her

  out of the car, there was no way she was a threat to him yet, he knew

  that, but her nearness confused him, making him forget every few

  breaths he was in control. If she could do this while unconscious,

  what the hell would she be like raving mad and gnashing to bite
his

  jugular if he stoked her blood in that direction?

  He kicked the car to get himself moving forward and into gear.

  "Constantine?"

  Constantine could taste the confusion in Jason's exhalation. Fuck

  that. Jason wasn't full-alpha yet. He was picking up on Constantine's

  slowness, nothing more. "Den of iniquity ready?" He wasn't going to

  answer to Jason's confusion or anyone else's, not even his own. It was

  the damn L.A. sun causing his blood to get too hot and smog

  contaminated.

  "Add her to it and it is finished." Jason stayed where he was but his

  eyebrow wrinkled up before resuming the straight line of

  unquestioning submission.

  Constantine stuffed his fingers under the latch and snapped them

  upwards until the door clicked. He pushed the limousine door open

  past its comfort zone and peered inside. So, gentle when asleep.

  Anything could be done to her and she would never know. Her body

  didn't have to submit, it was an open invitation with her brain offline.

  His jaw pushed his teeth together. Bad boy, she needed to be

  trussed up, then he could imagine all he wanted while watching her.

  He bent down to get her legs and pulled her across the seat until he

  could grasp her waist.

  Pinching her waist with his hands, he lifted her into the air and

  tossed her over his shoulder. Pores on his skin sucked her scent in

  through the layers of clothing separating them, making him heady

  from the sheer desire to rip her clothes off and see all he had in store

  for him.

  16

  Purposely, he bent forward and hit his forehead against the car,

  separating the knitting of his skin so a trace of blood remained on the

  black shiny paint. His tongue came out and retrieved what he'd left

  behind, recycling his own power back into him. The jolt cleared his

  head. He backed up, ready to face Jason's look of consternation and

  to ignore it.

  Constantine marched forward savvy that Jason would get out of his

  way. Her breasts pressed into his back with each inhalation, her

  exhalations skimming over his back with the tangy smell permeating

  his entire being. He couldn't prevent his mind from taking a small

  tangential moment to imagine his own lips sealed over hers, taking her

  breath from her.

  The image made his lips part, but he forced them closed and made

  it abundantly clear that his goals overrode any lustful interactions

  unless she turned. And if she didn't, well he wasn't a necromancer and

  had no interest in lifeless bodies when the blood no longer roamed

  freely but rather turned to sludge.

  He hoped for both their sakes she wouldn't make him take that

  route. Joe Smith would appreciate it too, since he was the patsy for

  the murder charges as the mover behind the kidnapping.

  As Constantine foresaw, Jason moved backwards and turned to lead

  him to the lair. Telepathy intrigued Constantine, because it made him

  live in the future and relive the present. He'd already known what

  Jason would do and had watched it happen before it did.

  But with Helena Palmer, he couldn't read an unconscious person

  and that both intrigued and unnerved him. The future was an

  unknown entity when it came to her, and telepathy always worked

  better on intimates.

  He followed Jason through the passage ways that lead to the heart

  of the meat shipping warehouse. Nothing living on two feet had

  resided here in years, but he dank mildew infested place was full of

  scampering critters wary of the intrusion.

  He pitied the rats that feared their home was under invasion from

  monsters, just the way the humans had invaded the vampire lairs eons

  ago outside of human memory or written word. Constantine altered

  17

  his scent to one the rats would relate to as friendly and listened for the

  skittering to quiet down. He pitied them, but she wasn't going to be

  on their feasting menu either. Altering his scent slightly again, he

  made it clear that staying away would be for everyone's best.

  Jason walked through a door ahead and stopped. Constantine

  sensed Jason's nervousness, waiting for approval. That meant

  Constantine was about to see what Jason had rigged as the holding

  pen.

  Constantine walked sideways through the door to get his bulky

  body through it without confronting the hinges with her head. He

  moved in front of Jason and looked around. Not bad, not bad at all.

  Metal tracks for the meat hooks to be moved around on had been

  rerouted to enter the room and run its length. On one end of the

  tracks, a makeshift bathroom of toilet and sink had been fashioned

  from water pipes running along the walls; on the other end, the floor

  was covered with thick-piled oriental rugs and body sized pillows for

  easy lounging. One lone meat hook hung from the tracks over the

  pillows and carpets.

  He placed Helena on the carpet, face up. "Do you have the rope?"

  Jason came over with white nylon rope coiled in figure eights.

  "Marine quality to take her weight and not collapse under the

  tension."

  Constantine nodded. "Hold her up for me so I can get her tied up."

  He took the rope from Jason and let the first loop snake through his

  fingers so only the end was left in his hand and the rest coiled on the

  floor.

  A growl escaped his clenched jaws at seeing Jason bracing her

  upright.

  "Hey man, you told me to touch her." Jason stared him straight in

  the chin then looked down.

  Constantine bit down on his tongue until blood broke through the

  surface of his taste buds. The metallic flavor of blood always calmed

  him down into a duller roar.

  Pulling the rope with him, he towered behind Helena and yanked

  her loose head up by a wad of strands he caught in his free hand. He

  18

  tugged harder than necessary to get her head in his direction, and

  enveloped her hair up in his fist.

  Her hair was delectably cool. It had already shed the heat of L.A.

  and was taking on the quality of the dankness he found so appealing.

  Constantine adjusted his sack with the rope hand, and as he looked

  over Helena's head caught Jason giving him a quizzical look. Maybe

  Jason was leaving his team sooner than expected. The guy thought

  too much, good for an alpha bad for an underling with ideas of

  grandeur. Spark or not, Jason had to stay around long enough for an

  opportunity, an opportunity that might be cut short with many more

  looks.

  Constantine forced Helena's hair into a ponytail and placed the

  standing end against her hair. With the working end, he hitched it

  around her hair and plaited it, fashioning a hair corset around the

  locks that wanted to billow out in all directions. Each knot bit into

  strands of her hair, holding her down for his will.

  With the last twist, he was nearly out of rope, but her hair was now

  fully trussed up. In a double overhand bend, he joined a new coil and

  wove the loose ends up into the corset. Forming a hangman's knot on

  the long end, he carried
the noose in his hand as he reached out for the

  step stool Jason had deposited against the wall. Opening up the ladder

  under the meat hook, he brought the noose to the hook and opened its

  clasp to fit the loop inside before letting the clasp spring shut with a

  live carcass hanging from the end.

  Coming down, he kicked the stool away. "Get it out of here."

  Jason nodded and let Helena fall into whatever position her body

  chose to collapse in. Her hair stood upright from her head, letting her

  head get closer to the floor, but not enough to lie down.

  Constantine pushed her sideways and stuffed pillows under her

  head. He could still smell Jason's touch on her and kicked the

  shoulder Jason's hand had dirtied with pheromones, watching her hair

  swing from the ceiling in a dizzying figure eight.

  His fingers itched to shorten the hanging part so her feet just grazed

  the floor. What would she do, kick and scream or go comatose from

  the pain of hanging by nothing but hair? Constantine shook his head.

  19

  He had to go slow and build up with this one. Potential did not equate

  to a given in his world and even one with the blood as strong as hers

  could fail to crystallize into what he needed. She had to turn and still

  be his or she was another casualty in the ongoing war.

  * * * *

  Helena tried to move but her body didn't respond, so much pressure

  as if under water and bloated with stones weighing her down.. Why

  couldn't she move? Was this another one of those games/tortures her

  brothers found so funny and ended with her screaming her head off

  until her mom came to rescue her?

  And what about the taste in her mouth, –it tasted awful.

  Swallowing only intensified the taste and coated more of her throat

  with the sticky residue that clung and refused to finish the descent into

  her stomach.

  Her eyes tried to bulge out and push open her lids but there was

  resistance. She didn't wear a mask at night so why wouldn't her lids

  give up their seal? Sure the darkness was nice and soothing, but she

  couldn't live in the dark forever; she had mergers to see to.

  Clearly she'd been asleep too long and her body was in a routine rut

  and didn't want it to end. She began with her toes. There wasn't any