SEDUCTIVE PREY

TOMBS AND TRAITORS

I was trapped living like some life-sized doll for Zola's amusement. Doing whatever she commanded.

Until...

It wasn't long after Zola turned me into a ventriloquist dummy that the experiments started. They took my blood, locks of my hair, and performed spinal taps on me to get to my marrow to find out how I could do what I could do. Or worst... how they could stop me from siphoning their power while using my abilities against me.

For the first few months I was poked, prodded, and tortured. Weakened to the brink of death, all in the name of whatever purpose they had for me. Until they finally discovered the backbone of my power was my mind.

So, rather than wreak havoc on my body, they began to wreak havoc on my mind. Fraying it to the point that I would spend days in a stupor, not knowing which way was up. Days with my mind scrambled beyond the point of any intelligible thought.

I was a vegetable on the outside, but I was screaming on the inside. Unable to break free of Zola's hold. This tiny eight year old girl with the power of an ancient creature thousands of years old. Whose youthfully innocent face twisted so beautifully cruel while she tortured me and loved every minute of it.

While she convinced me I wanted this.

That I enjoyed it even.

For months she invaded every neuron inside my brain, triggering apoptotic cell death where it suited her, disabling motor neurons, reprogramming them, and then enabling them again to suit her purpose.

But the effects never lasted for long because my body would just siphon her power and use it to rewire everything the way it should be.

Righting every wrong.

For months we continued like this. With her giving me a magical lobotomy and me flipping her a mental middle finger until she would storm off, shrieking in frustration from the room.

Checkmate.

Finally, she'd had enough. And for a week I was allowed enough mental rest to gather my bearings. To cling to the mending fragments of my mind and will them back to normal.

I hoped she'd given up on me.

That she'd finally realized she was wasting her time.

But then she showed up with him. Someone I'd eventually come to know as a protector.

Tristan.

And he siphoned my power to the point of damn near killing me to make me more susceptible to her influence. Influence she used to annihilate me from my own mind. Solidifying her grip on my consciousness to influence me to do as wished.

To siphon the power of others.

To hurt people.

To kill at her command.

And I did it well.

I abandoned my family, I infiltrated the Lycan packs, I killed other Siphoners, I killed witches, demons, angels sent to stop me, and then a very annoying banshee protecting the tomb of someone Zayd and Zola both deeply loved.

Stealing from the Lycans and kindling a friendship with Lucas was all a part of a bigger plan. All in the name of power for the snot-nosed brat pulling the strings of my mind. Everything I did, including leaving Ethan's father in that cage was because I was commanded to by the little demon child I wish to strangle with my bare hands.

That's where my trip down memory lane takes its most important trip yet.

And in it was a tomb, and a dust-covered stone coffin with ancient symbols etched into it. A coffin that reeked of power, decay, and wrongness to the point of making my skin crawl.

They want me to open it, but I haven't the slightest idea how. And that's when the second round of mental torture began. Only, this time a very willing Tristan is there to lend a hand.

He's known who I was from the start.

I'm going to kill him.

But first, I need to find out where Zayd is holding my family and friends and save them. Which I can't do from here. I'll have to give myself over to Zola's power, which has been scratching at the gates of my mind since she offered to give me back my memories. Hoping to regain control of the mind she lost. And she's vain enough to believe she can. Not realizing I'm a hell of a lot stronger than I used to be.

But who am I to disappoint?

Schooling my face into a blank look, I wait for Zola's power to ebb and for her to lean into my face to peer into my eyes.

"That's better." She smiles. Then, turning to Tristan, she scowls and says, "I thought you said she was stronger."

"She is." He replies, confused.

And dare I say he even looks disappointed.

Scoffing, she replies, "Hardly. Never-the-less, your friends will be released back to you within the hour for your cooperation."

"And the dark prince?" Celeste asks. Nervous.

"Subdued. You were right... the witch gave him up without a fight to save her sire."

"What of our elder Darien Alexander?" Tristan asks. "And Kaia?"

Zola has Kaia?

... Well, that explains a lot.

"You have my word that once I get what I want from my deer sweet sister, you will have them too. But not a moment sooner."

"That wasn't the deal, Zola. And I've done my part. "

He's made a deal with the devil and the dumbass actually sounds like he expects her to follow through with it. If I weren't busy pretending to be a mindless drone, I'd smile with satisfaction.

"Come," Zola snaps her fingers at me. "Let's not keep everyone waiting."

After giving her a quick nod of my head, I follow behind her – tempted to wring her little neck – to a car waiting outside. In it sits Xenith and some other muscle whose eyes are trained on watching my every move. And it's not hard to stare right through them like a mindless doll, because as far as I'm concerned they're just collateral damage.

An obstacle in my way.

A blip on the radar of what I have planned for this snot-nosed draganhole.

And as Celeste and Tristan slide into the vehicle beside us, I mentally reserve a special place in hell for them too.

The Dragan pain in my ass, and the traitorous Siphoners must be stopped.