"Yes, I like that move."
He was heading toward her. Cara's eyes flew open when his hand touched her shoulder. God, he was going to kiss her. He was close enough to her that she could see the smoothness of his olive skin, smell his aftershave, register the lust in his eyes. She couldn't let him kiss her. There was no way. She would throw up, all over his expensive suit.
His hair brushed against her cheek as he glanced over her shoulder. His fingers played along the clasp of her bra. "Let me help you."
Skin crawling, heart racing, she tried not to show her fear, tried not to panic, tried to think. She was not going to let him do this to her. When he popped the clasp on her bra open, Cara stroked along his pant leg, searching for his testicles. She was going to give them a squeeze with every ounce of her vampire strength and drop the bastard to the floor the way he had Alexis.
His breath hitched a little. "Now you're being very agreeable. Isn't this much nicer? To the left," he murmured along her earlobe, sliding her bra strap down her right arm.
Good. He was giving directions so she could find his package, and she could end this now before it went a second further. If his fingers had time to brush against her breast, she was going to give him the satisfaction he was looking for and beg him to stop.
Without warning, there was a loud crashing noise and she jerked, startled. Donatelli wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against him, in what for a stupid second she thought what a protective gesture.
Then she heard Ethan's voice. "What the fuck is going on here?"
And she knew Donatelli had no such thing as protection on his mind—he was clever enough and fast enough to make this look worse than it already did.
Seamus came up behind Ethan, terrified by the horror and anger in Ethan's voice. But what he saw appalled him in ways he never could have imagined. His face went completely hot, then cold, and the room actually did a spin, like he was going to pass out.
Donatelli's arms were around Cara, and she was only in her panties. Red thong panties. Her bra was still hanging on, but only because her chest was smashed against Donatelli's. Otherwise it would have fallen to the floor, because it was unhooked and pulled down both her arms.
Her flesh was showing, everywhere, the flesh he had touched, made love to, and now Donatelli was touching it. Cara's arm was crushed between their bodies, her hand pinned against his groin, like she'd been groping him. Like they were lovers. Donatelli looked satisfied, triumphant, and he placed his lips on the top of her head, gave her a kiss. Whispered in her ear, like he was reassuring her.
It was like roadkill. Seamus should look away, needed to look away, but he couldn't. Not until he'd seen every gruesome detail, every inch of the damage.
"Are you okay?" Ethan was asking Alexis, who was on the floor clutching her wrist.
Alexis nodded and Seamus couldn't register what he was seeing. Why was Alexis there while Cara betrayed him with Donatelli? He spotted Kelsey on her knees as well, arms wrapped tightly around herself, tears staining her cheeks.
"Let her go," Ethan said. "And then I want to know what all this is about. Once and for all."
"Drunk wore off, Carrick? Damn. It was just too easy to overpower you before. I can't tell you the satisfaction I received from having you chained up, though I am disappointed you managed to escape."
"Let her go," Ethan said again, his voice like steel. He stood up and moved toward Donatelli.
"Alright, fine." Donatelli let go of Cara, who stumbled back away from him, her hand holding her bra in place.
Seamus realized she looked terrified, and everything in him thawed, shifted horror from her to himself. What the hell was he thinking? Cara wasn't half-naked willingly. Donatelli was at fault. When she came toward him, sobs started to wrack her shoulders, and Seamus reached for her, appalled at himself. Why had he just stood there and let Donatelli continue to paw her, scare her?
She curled up against him, hiding her face in his shirt.
"You're outnumbered, Donatelli. So tell me what it is you want," Ethan said.
"I want to win the election, of course. Are you so stupid you haven't figured that out yet? I want the power you have."
"And you'd kill me to get it?"
"I didn't think that was going to be necessary, but if I had to, yes." He shrugged, hands in his pockets.
"Why hurt the women?"
"They came here on their own." Donatelli looked offended. "I was just being hospitable."
"By breaking my wife's wrist?"
Alexis was on her feet now, some color restoring to her face.
"She attacked me. I was defending myself."
"And what did you do to Kelsey?"
Kelsey finally spoke. "He had a stake on me. He said if Cara didn't dance for him and take off her clothes, he'd kill me with it."
Cara clung to Seamus and she shuddered at Kelsey's words. Seamus felt all his shock, horror, guilt, collapse in on him, and form a very hot, tight ball of anger. Heaven and hell, how could he ever make this right for Cara? She must have been sick, humiliated. And he was livid. He was six new words for pissed off. He was so fucking angry that if he moved one muscle, he was going to rip Donatelli's head right off his shoulders.
Ethan moved around Donatelli in a slow circle, expression feral. "Concede the election now or I'll kill you."
"I call your bluff," Donatelli said. "You've gotten tame in the last century. You won't kill me."
Seamus set Cara away from him and moved forward. "He doesn't need to. I will."
He wasn't bluffing. Not at all. It wouldn't be difficult for him to take off Donatelli's head, despite the law of the Nation.
The Italian must have seen his conviction. He took a long moment, where they studied each other, then he shrugged. "You are overreacting. I didn't hurt her."
Seamus flew at him, vampire speed, and pinned him against the wall, arm at his neck. "Keep your filthy fingers off my girlfriend, you bloody liar. You've shown no respect for Ethan or me, the law of the Nation, or these women. We're ending this here and now."
"It doesn't look to me like we're doing anything," Donatelli said, his voice tight but mocking.
Seamus jerked him back and snapped his neck, breaking it with a nice, sharp crack.
"Fuck, that hurt," Donatelli said, eyes glazed with pain, collapsing to the ground when Seamus let go of him.
"I'm calling our security," Ethan said. "We'll take Donatelli's statement of concession and broadcast it on the network immediately, and then security can escort him to New York, where he can await trial for treason."
"Treason for what?" Donatelli complained from the floor, looking in too much pain to move.
"Plot to kill the president," Seamus told him. "It's either that— which will mean banishment—or death. Your choice." A sick part of Seamus hoped Donatelli would taunt him by choosing death. It would be all too easy to justify killing him then.
"I don't see that I have much choice, do you?" He still managed to sound like a prick, even down on the ground curled up in agony. "I will concede. Does that make you both happy?"
"Immeasurably," Seamus said sarcastically. He hauled Dona-telli to his feet for the sole purpose of punching him in the gut, when Cara called him.
"Seamus, the women… on the bed."
"What?" He glanced over at her. She was pointing to Dona-telli's bed. There were two mortal women sleeping there under a glamour.
"What should we do with them?" Cara asked. Seamus noticed she had pulled her shirt and jeans back on. "I don't think they'd be here if they really knew what they were doing."
"I'll take care of them," Ethan said, immediately going over to the bed. He picked up both of them, one on each shoulder, and headed for the door.
"You are no fun whatsoever. Did anyone ever tell you that?" Donatelli asked.
Seamus felt his temperature rise. If he had to spend one more minute with this guy, he was not going to be able to contain his rage. "Cara, Kelsey, Alexis, why don't you go back to the Ava? We'll be back soon."
"Okay," Alexis said, with zero argument. Seamus knew then that she must still be hurting if she wasn't arguing.
Ethan returned. "All taken care of. They won't remember a thing."
"We're leaving," Alexis told him.
"Can you drive?" Ethan asked, touching her broken wrist.
"Cara can drive. We'll be fine."
Kelsey was out the door first. Alexis gave Ethan a smile. "Kick his ass," she whispered loudly.
Cara just went for the door and didn't even glance Seamus's way. He watched her go, worried. She was too quiet. That wasn't like her. And he would have liked to have given her a smile, to reassure her. But she just left, head down, shoulders rolled forward.
I
love you
, he told her mentally.
But like he had ignored her before, now she ignored him.
Ethan wanted to kill Donatelli. He knew one word of permission from him and Seamus would take his head off no questions asked. Ethan didn't blame him. He couldn't imagine how it must have felt for Seamus to see Donatelli touching Cara like that. But there were laws they had to follow, and while this method didn't satisfy blood-lust, it was the right thing to do.
Though oddly enough, Seamus had broken a number of their laws lately, which was completely unlike him.
"Should I kick your ass?" Ethan asked Donatelli.
The Italian shrugged, adjusting his jacket, moving up onto his knees. "How is my wife, by the way? I heard she was in Vegas for your wedding. I was devastated she didn't stop by to say hello."
The asshole. Ethan clenched his fists. "My sister is not your wife any longer. Gwenna was smart enough to divorce you over four hundred years ago." Thanks to Henry the Eighth and his lust for new wives, Gwenna had been able to legally sever her relationship with Donatelli. Emotionally, though, Ethan wasn't sure she had recovered yet.
"That doesn't change the fact that we were married for over a hundred years."
"Of which Gwenna regrets every one."
"That truly breaks my heart. And it's not true. We were happy before you turned her against me."
Ethan snorted. He hadn't turned Gwenna against Donatelli, but he'd been thrilled to help her escape him.
Seamus grabbed Donatelli and hauled him to his feet. "Quit your yapping. No one believes your sob stories."
"Let's just get this over, shall we?" Donatelli rolled his neck cautiously.
"Here, let me help you out the door." Ethan reached out and yanked Donatelli's wrist, breaking it more cleanly than Donatelli had done to Alexis, but snapping it in three pieces nonetheless. "Oops. Sorry."
Seamus grinned at him with sick satisfaction.
Ethan had to admit it felt better than it should.
By the time Seamus finally found Cara two hours later, he was sick with worry. He'd looked for her everywhere in the Venetian, the Ava, and all points in between. Alexis had assured him Cara had returned with her, and the dogs didn't look like they'd been left alone for long—no accidents on the carpet in her new hotel room. He'd gone to the club and to her old apartment with no luck. No one had seen her. After wondering how rude it would be to call
Dawn at midnight when she'd just gotten out of the hospital, Sea-mus had a thought.
Ten minutes later he was hovering outside the Resthaven nursing home, debating a walk around the perimeter of the building or a bold stroll straight into the lobby. He was on a gravel walkway that was separated from the long, low building by a row of indigenous drought-tolerant plants. The night was quiet, peaceful, and when he stood still and let his vampire hearing pick through the stucco building, he heard the low hum of ventilators, an occasional squeaking shoe on linoleum, and a TV droning softly. Then he heard Cara whispering, her voice gentle and full of love.
Seamus followed the sound, moving south down the building, until he reached the window of the room he was certain she was in. It was actually open, and not only could he hear her voice, he could feel her presence, smell her floral shampoo. Pushing the window open wider, he climbed in.
"Seamus?" Cara asked as she turned. She clearly knew it was him, because she didn't look the least bit startled.
"It's me." He put his feet on the floor and looked around the room. It was small and sparse, with a typical nursing home setup. Cara was curled up in an easy chair, and in the hospital bed a tiny Asian woman was lying, looking up at him quizzically.
The room was dim, just the lights under the cabinet lit, and the eerie green lights from a heart monitor.
"Are you okay?" he asked Cara.
"I'm fine."
She pulled her legs up in front of her, chin resting on her knees. Her hair was still done up in twists and knots, reminding him of how Donatelli had forced her to dance, perform. It made him sick all over again.
"Seamus, this is my grandmother, Kin Zan Kim. Grandmother, this is my boyfriend, Seamus Fox."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Seamus said, reaching over and touching the older woman's thin, featherlight hand. She was tiny, the size of an American ten-year-old child, and her eyes were opaque, confused. But her skin was smooth, her hair still thick and black with gray shot through it.
She spoke in Korean, a quick torrent of words that sounded clear and cognizant to Seamus. He smiled at her and turned to Cara. "What did she say?"
"I don't know. My Korean sucks." Cara gave a small smile. "But I guess she approves of you. When I brought Marcus to visit her, she threw her tissue box at him."
So the prick had a name. "Smart lady."
"Yeah." Cara didn't move.
Seamus leaned against the windowsill. "I was worried about you." Terrified, actually, but he was trying to play it cool. She obviously had needed some space.
"I'm sorry. I just needed to see her."
"I understand." Seamus reached out, touching the twists in her hair, undoing them. He couldn't see them up like that anymore. It wasn't Cara. "Why did he put your hair up this?" he asked in frustration, horror, guilt. It was a stupid, inane thing to say, but it was brutalizing him to think he hadn't been there for her.