Blood and Bondage Read Online Free Page A

wrist, slapped him
square across the jaw. The sting felt like a million bees swarming over his
flesh.
    “You bastard! You’ve been reading my mind this
whole time, haven’t you?” Anaïs’s irritated scowl proved that she couldn’t
possibly do the same. Good thing, too. Oliver didn’t need a sexy bloodsucker
trying to pick his brain. With her hands on her hips, she simply strutted away,
leaving him stranded in the middle of the dance floor with a roomful of
vampires ready to pounce.
     
     

Chapter Four
     
    The Threat
     
    It was well past three in the morning by the
time Anaïs made it upstairs to her suite at the Four Seasons Hotel. After
leaving the reception, she’d taken some time to search for sustenance, although
nothing had piqued her thirst. Then, she made a pit stop to the hotel bar and
downed a couple of cocktails. Vampires didn’t need to eat or drink, but after
her confrontation with Oliver, she’d hoped the alcohol would help calm her
rattled nerves. Eventually, the bartender announced it was last call and Anaïs
had no alternative but to head upstairs.
    As she approached her room, thoughts of the
BPA’s counsel general still flashed through her mind. She wanted to strangle
him for delving into the depths of her mind without permission. Anaïs didn’t
share that specific talent and therefore, couldn’t return the favor. In fact,
Oliver Polinksi had done more than read her thoughts. He’d left her feeling turned
her on and pissed her off all at the same time, which was a first. So
preoccupied, she hadn’t noticed that the door to her suite had been set ajar,
as if it had been tampered with. Had someone snuck into her private quarters?
    Hesitant to shove open the door on the off
chance that the burglars still lie in wait, Anaïs peered inside through a
slight crack in the frame. She could see the room was in shambles. Drawers full
of clothing had been emptied and strewn about haphazardly. The expensive art
lithographs on the walls had been torn off, shredded into pieces, and littered across
the rug’s surface. With her ear plastered to the wood, she listened for voices
or the sound of movement, anything that would tell her if she needed to enter
the room with fangs blazing. But she heard nothing. No one.
    Anaïs sighed, then pushed open the door and
crossed the threshold. A major clean-up job hadn’t been on her agenda for the
evening. Neither had spending the night alone without a man to warm her bed and
satisfy her need for sustenance. Yet here she stood. Unfortunately, Oliver
Polinski had screwed up her plans.
    Oh hell! I’ve got nothing better to do. I might
as well get started straightening up the place.
    Picking up blankets from the floor and tossing pillows
onto a nearby chair, Anaïs noticed a small photograph that remained half-hidden
underneath the upturned bedding.
    Hmm. Where had that come from?
    She swooped it up off the ground and examined it
more closely. Suddenly, her eyes shot open; her stomach heaved at the horrific scene
depicted in the image. A scantily-clad woman, a vampire as evidenced by the
sharp incisor protruding from the left side of her cheek, lay discarded by a
dumpster in what appeared to be a dark, deserted
New York City
alley. Her neck had been
broken, twisted at an awkward angle with one of the frail collar bones sticking
out of the skin. The bustier she wore seemed to be torn in shreds, her bosom flayed
open by a jagged gouge that had been cut against the grain from breastbone to
rib cage. Her heart was ripped from her body, and set on top of her distended
abdomen.
    The gut-wrenching spectacle caused Anaïs to
double over into a ball on the floor, overcome with nausea and utter disgust. Sure,
she’d killed victims in the heat of the moment, but nothing quite like this. If
she’d feasted earlier, the contents of her stomach would no doubt cover the rug
in a blanket of blood.
    Unable to control her emotions, Anaïs tossed the
photograph on the bed and threw