Enslaved by the Others Read Online Free Page B

Therein lay the terrifying truth about vampires, the thing that haunted my nightmares and why I had been so very afraid of Royce. If they wanted you— really wanted you—you had no control over your body and no choice about how you felt about what they were doing.
    Once I got my breath and a semblance of strength back, I fought against the chains for a while. They didn’t give, and I was no closer to finding either freedom or relief than I’d been in Max’s arms. Twisting my wrists didn’t loosen the cuffs, and there wasn’t enough room for me to slip a hand through.
    It took a long, long time, but eventually the burning heat between my legs faded, and I was left with a fresh surge of terror as good sense returned.
    Good God. To consider—even if only for a moment—sleeping with Max Carlyle ... !
    Shame liberally dosed with the sick feeling of being trapped resulted in the unsteady but oh-so-familiar sensation of bile churning in my stomach. Crying hadn’t done me any good so far but, to be perfectly honest, it was all I was capable of doing once the hopelessness of my situation sank in.
    Not to mention the loathing and disgust I felt for myself, for my weakness, for feeling even the smallest margin of desire even when I knew I couldn’t help myself. It wasn’t my fault. I knew it wasn’t.
    That didn’t make me feel any less sick and violated.
    Max was right about one thing: more than pain, holding the threat of biting me over my head if I should step out of line would keep me in a cooperative mind-set. I’d continue to hunt for means of escape, of course, but I couldn’t handle the thought of putting myself in a position to be so vulnerable with him again. For the time being, when he was watching, I’d play along with whatever twisted plans he had.
    The rest of the time, I’d be clawing at the walls hunting for a way out.
    Coming to that conclusion was great and all, but it didn’t get me out of the chains. There was no clock or view of the outside to give me any hint as to the passing of the time. Hunger and a growing pressure to use the commode brought around a new kind of panic. What if he forgot about me? How long was I going to be stuck in these chains?
    I was practically dancing in place with the effort to hold my bladder by the time Max sent someone to release me. The guy ignored my pleas and repeated requests to be shown to a bathroom. Instead, he held my arm tight enough to hurt and marched me back to the room I’d been locked in earlier—sans chair this time.
    He shoved me inside and slammed the door shut behind me, leaving me alone. Though it was humiliating, I rushed straight to the chamber pot in the corner and made use of it, praying that neither Max nor any of his henchmen would barge in at an awkward moment.
    When I was done, I noted that there was a tray set to one side of the door that held a bottle of water, some pills, and a bowl of thick soup—but no utensils. Despite feeling ill at being confined and the possibility the food might have something unsavory in it, I was ravenous, and rapidly devoured it. It was bland but filling, lacking any taint of poison or drugs that I could detect. The water was sealed so I knew it hadn’t been tampered with, but I wasn’t about to touch the pills, whatever they were.
    After a few minutes spent fruitlessly scouring the carpet in search of the staples I’d dropped, I resigned myself to waiting for Max or one of his people to return. With nothing else to do, I settled down on the bed, lying back to stare at the ceiling.
    Did Royce know Max had taken me? Before I woke up in this nuthouse, I was in California, hiding from the police and the werewolves in New York who were out for my blood. The master vampire of Los Angeles, Clyde Seabreeze, had been betrayed by his lover Fabian. It turned out Fabian was using Clyde, working with the necromancer whose zombies had been killing the vampires who looked to Clyde for protection. After conquering and