Immortal Unchained by Lynsay Sands Read Online Free

  Contents

Embrace

Title Folio

Prologue

1

Two

Three

4

Five

Vi

Seven

Viii

Nine

10

11

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

An Excerpt from Elation Prologue

Ane

About the Author

By Lynsay Sands

Copyright

About the Publisher

Prologue

"I begin to think they are going to be late," Domitian murmured, hefting his duffle bag higher on his shoulder and so that the microphone hidden in his sleeve would catch his words.

"Possibly it is a sign." Lucian Argeneau's vox was surprisingly clear. The earpiece they'd given Domitian was so small that it was unseen one time inserted, only the sound came through loud and crystal clear. "We should fleck this now and--"

"Yet trying to talk me out of going, Uncle?" Domitian asked with entertainment, and then all of a sudden impatient, added, "I do not know why you are then resistant to my doing this. Especially with Uncle Victor, Lucern, Decker, Nicholas, Aunt Eshe, Mirabeau La Roche, and Santo Notte now among the missing. I would remember with all of them having been taken--"

"That is precisely why," Lucian growled. "This is unsafe. We have already lost several hunters, people armed and trained to handle situations similar this. Yous, Domitian, are going in at that place unarmed, and you are not a hunter."

"True, but I was a warrior one time. I tin handle myself," Domitian argued. "Besides, none of your hunters were invited, I was."

"Aye, just was information technology because you are a chef and Dressler wants yous to work for him? Or because you are an immortal he wants to add to his collection?"

"I told yous. He does not know I am an immortal," Domitian said slowly and firmly, stressing each word. They'd had this conversation several times already, but information technology seemed they would have it again. "If Dressler knew, he could have taken me at whatsoever time. He has been a regular in my eatery for five years. He obviously does not know."

"Or perhaps he did non wish to kidnap an immortal and so close to home," Lucian countered. "Information technology might take led us directly hither to Venezuela."

Domitian shifted impatiently at the suggestion. "One immortal missing in Caracas would inappreciably have brought you here when so many accept gone missing in the Usa."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps we would have--"

"Is that helicopter headed this way?" Domitian interrupted, raising a paw to shield his optics from the sun equally he watched the vehicle approach. Information technology was flying low and seemed to be headed straight for where he stood at the base of the large dock . . . which was where he'd been directed to await for his ride. He'd expected a boat, but--

"Are those pontoons?" Lucian asked sharply in his ear.

Domitian knew that Lucian and the others wouldn't have as good a view from the small boat where they waited further along the docks. On top of that, they were staying out of sight in the small cabin in the bow, which had but tiny windows that were glazed and screened. Their view would be highly obscured compared to his.

"Aye. The helicopter has pontoons," he confirmed, his gaze on the skids with the floatation devices affixed to them. It was fitted out to be an amphibious helicopter so that it could set down on h2o or land, which fabricated Domitian suspect that this was his ride. Plainly he wasn't the only ane to call up that, he realized, wincing as a loud curse sounded in his ear.

"Y'all are non to get on that helicopter!" Lucian ordered firmly. "Make an excuse. Tell them y'all have changed your heed. Nosotros did not plan for this. The boats out in the bay might lose the helicopter. Exercise you lot hear me?"

His thoughts racing, Domitian watched the helicopter ho-hum and begin to drop past the stop of the dock. To get on board or not was the question. If he said he had a fear of flying, Dressler might ship a boat for him and then Lucian's men could follow from a safe distance to find the island. Then once more, he might not. Dressler might doubtable something was afoot and simply cancel the chore offer altogether . . . and Domitian couldn't take chances that. He had to get on that island. His life mate was at that place and could exist in danger.

"Domitian? Tin you hear me?" Lucian barked sharply, and so his voice faded as he asked someone else, "Is this thing working? Why is he non answering?"

"Possibly the dissonance from the helicopter is drowning you out," another phonation responded. Domitian was pretty sure that voice belonged to the immature hunter Justin Bricker and was grateful for the suggestion. He would pretend it was true and he couldn't hear his uncle. He was getting on that helicopter. He might exist risking his life doing information technology, simply non getting on risked his adventure of whatsoever kind of a happy future.

"Dammit! Domitian! Do not get on that helicopter! Domitian?"

Ignoring the voice in his ear, Domitian watched the helicopter set up down, non on the water, but on the cease of the dock. He then started forward.

"Domitian Argeneau!" Lucian's vox roared in his ear.

"It'southward Argenis, Uncle. Not Argeneau," Domitian reminded him gently before unobtrusively plucking the earpiece from his ear and tucking information technology into the front pocket of his tight jeans. It didn't thing what anyone said. He was going, Domitian thought as he watched the passenger door of the helicopter open.

Instinctively ducking, he rushed quickly under the rotors to the entrance. A man in a suit was waiting with his hand out to take his duffle purse. Domitian handed it over with a nod of thank you then grasped the door frame and climbed in. The window seat was the simply one available, and then he settled into it and pulled the door closed without having to exist told.

Domitian then started to plough to become a better look at the other men in the helicopter merely stiffened in surprise as he felt a sudden sharp pain in the side of his neck. He lost consciousness well-nigh at once.

I

Sarita closed the book she'd been trying to read and tossed it impatiently aside. Information technology was a horrible book. Or mayhap she just wasn't in the mood to read, she best-selling with irritation, getting restlessly to her feet. As a police officer, her life at home in Canada was ordinarily a busy i, full of activity and even urgency. Just hither . . . all this sitting effectually waiting to be able to visit her grandmother was beginning to fray on her nerves. Sarita was broken-hearted to encounter for herself how her grandmother was doing after her accident. It was why she was here, subsequently all. Instead, she'd spent her time since arriving in Venezuela, stuck on this isle, alternating betwixt pacing and trying to read books that simply couldn't hold her interest. It was driving her crazy, sitting here, waiting for Dr. Dressler to return to the island and instruct his men to transport her to the mainland. Unfortunately, he hadn't been here when she'd arrived, and they wouldn't take her there without his orders.

Clucking impatiently under her tongue, she left the library, her oral fissure tightening as her gaze slid to the two men standing guard inside the front double doors of the house. They stood one on either side, eyes straight alee, faces expressionless, easily loosely at their sides within like shooting fish in a barrel reach of the sidearms she knew each wore.

And that was the only matter they were doing right as far as she could tell. She'd been told the ridiculous level of security on the isle was because kidnappings had get so rampant in Venezuela and "el Doctor" wanted to ensure his safety equally well every bit that of his family, his employees, and visitors similar her. But if that was the case, then he should have all of his security on the outside, watching for the arroyo of would-exist kidnappers, not inside, watching the goings-on in the house. Although he had that too, she acknowledged. There were two men continuing guard outside the double doors every bit well, and a dozen more than walking the grounds as far as

she could tell. "El Doctor" was evidently paranoid about kidnappings. But since her own mother had been kidnapped and killed when she was young, Sarita supposed she should probably appreciate his efforts to ensure their prophylactic. Instead, she just found the men posted everywhere something else to be annoyed nearly today.

Knowing she was in a foul mood from a combination of boredom and frustration, Sarita turned on her heel and headed up the hall toward the kitchen. She'd become a beverage and perhaps one of Aleta's yummy cookies, and run into if the melt had something for her to practise to help pass the time. At that point, even something every bit mundane as washing dishes would be welcome . . . which told Sarita just how bored she was.

Grimacing at the depths to which she'd sunk after three brusque days of inactivity, Sarita pushed the kitchen door open and stepped inside. The rich aroma of something delicious rolled over her as she entered, and her nose twitched as she inhaled the scent. Spotting Aleta stirring a pot simmering on the range in the center of the isle, she moved closer to peer at the contents with interest. There were chunks of vegetables and meat in a thick juice. It smelled similar heaven.

"Hola," Aleta greeted her softly, a shy smiling curving her lips.

Sarita smiled at the woman. "Hola. That smells good. I swear, Aleta, yous're an angel. Everything you make is delicious."

"Gracias," Aleta said, flushing with pleasure.

"What is it?" Sarita asked, leaning across the island to inhale more deeply.

"El estofado de ternera," she answered.

"Mmm," Sarita murmured, again inhaling the olfactory property coming off the beefiness stew.

"Is not quite time for dinner, but it is prepare," Aleta said, watching her practically drool over the pot. "If y'all are hungry, y'all tin eat now."

"Oh, yep please," Sarita said at once.

Aleta chuckled at her eagerness. "Exit to the dining room and I will bring information technology in."

Sarita shook her head. "I can eat here. It would be overnice to have some company," she added when Aleta frowned.

The adult female's expression softened then and she nodded. "Here then. Sit down," she added, gesturing to the stools on the reverse side of the island from where she was cooking.

Sarita wanted to insist on getting her own food and drink, but suspected if she tried Aleta might change her mind nigh letting her eat in the kitchen. So she sank obediently onto i of the stools and watched equally Aleta fetched her a bowl and spoon and served upward the stew.

"Que quieres tomar?" Aleta asked as she fix the bowl before her.

"Water is fine," Sarita answered and then said "Agua" as well. Aleta seemed to speak English well, but the way she slipped back into Spanish at times--as she had when she'd just asked what Sarita wanted to drink--suggested the cook might non exist fully fluent in the language. She had no want to embarrass the adult female by making her admit it.

Picking up her spoon, Sarita scooped upward some of the stew, blew on it briefly, and and then slipped information technology into her mouth. Information technology was as expert as it smelled, meliorate fifty-fifty, and she moaned with pleasure as the flavor burst on her tongue.

Chuckling, Aleta set a glass of h2o and a plate with a large tequeno on it next to her bowl, and and so turned dorsum to her stew.

Sarita picked up the fried breadstick with cheese within and eagerly took a bite. She loved Aleta'south tequenos. Honestly, she loved everything the adult female had made for her since her inflow on the island three days earlier. Sarita was seriously considering trying to lure her away to Canada with a job. She was just trying to piece of work out if she could afford it. Her flat didn't have enough room to business firm the two of them. She'd need to buy a business firm, and then there was the whole immigration effect to worry nearly.

Sarita was but finishing her stew and tequeno when Aleta set her spoon aside again and retrieved a blender from the cupboard. The cook set up it on the counter, plugged information technology in, and then moved to the refrigerator. A moment afterwards she walked back to the counter with an armload of cleaned and precut greens and vegetables.

"What are you making now?" Sarita asked with marvel as Aleta dropped a expert portion of the vegetables into the blender and so moved to the pantry.

Aleta backed out of the pantry a moment later with a jar of some kind of powder. Carrying that to the blender, she murmured, "El Dr.'s bebida nutritive."

The doctor'south nutrition drink, Sarita translated and stiffened on her stool as she watched Aleta measure out a portion of the powder. Voice sharp, she asked, "El Medico's back?"

"Back?" Aleta frowned at the powder in her measuring loving cup and added a bit more than, shaking information technology to level information technology out every bit she did. "Back from where? He has non gone anywhere for weeks. He is always down at the labs since he took the ano sabatico."

Sabbatical, Sarita translated. Dr. Dressler had told her he was on sabbatical from the university when he'd called her virtually her grandmother'due south falling and injuring herself. And apparently he'd been spending all of his time since and so downward at his labs . . . not on the mainland as she'd been led to believe. Later Dr. Dressler's call telling her near her grandmother'due south accident and his fears for her well-existence since falls could be mortiferous for older women, Sarita had immediately booked a flying to Venezuela to bank check on her. She'd been met at the aerodrome by the head of Dr. Dressler's security team and flown out here past helicopter only to learn that her grandmother was still in the hospital in Caracas and had not yet returned to the isle. She'd immediately requested to exist transported back to the mainland so that she could meet her, but had been told that neither the boats nor the helicopter could be used without commencement gaining Dr. Dressler's permission and he was not here.

Sarita had assumed that meant he wasn't on the island and had been waiting impatiently for his render, but information technology seemed he was on the island, simply not at the house. She frowned now at this news, furious that Dressler's homo hadn't fabricated that clear. Had she known, she could have sought out Dressler himself to get the needed permission, and been at her grandmother'south bedside days ago.

Scowling, Sarita stood and quickly carried her empty bowl and plate to the sink.

"Leave information technology. I will do that," Aleta said when Sarita started to rinse them.

"Gracias," Sarita murmured rather than argue and turned off the tap. She'd finished rinsing them anyway. Turning to caput for the door, she added, "And give thanks you for the dinner. It was delicious."

"De nada," Aleta said absently as she full-bodied on her measuring.

Sarita was halfway upward the hall earlier she recalled the men at the front door. Not wanting to be questioned and peradventure stopped from going down to the labs, she turned every bit she reached the entry and jogged up the stairs that led to the second floor. Sarita moved quickly along the hall to the room she'd inhabited since arriving and slipped within.

A cautious glance out the French doors in her room showed her that the sun was setting. In the dying calorie-free she could run into men moving toward the house from every direction. While it had non quite been dinnertime when she'd arrived in the kitchen, it was near that time now and she was non the only 1 who appreciated Aleta's cooking.

She watched until all of the men had moved around the house and out of sight. They'd be heading to the door of the kitchen to fetch their food, she knew. It would leave a skeleton crew of two men at the front door as well as the men on the towers and at the gate to the fenced-in labs. Those men would and then be relieved so they too could swallow. Or mayhap nutrient would be taken to them. Sarita had no idea, she'd never cared enough to discover out.

She didn't actually care now either, Sarita decided as she slid out onto the balustrade. Finding the m empty, she climbed over the balcony rails, lowered herself until she hung from the bottom of the white-painted metallic, and and then let herself drop lightly onto the terrace below. A little grunt slid from her lips every bit her bare anxiety slapped on the stone. After a quick glance around, she hurried along the side of the business firm to the forepart corner.

A quick peek around the corner showed Sarita that fifty-fifty the men at the front door had gone in search of their meal. She'd always assumed that because the men inside waited to eat in the second shift, that the men outside would too, but information technology seemed north

ot. Pondering that, she broke away from the firm and hurried beyond the lawn, heading for the path through the trees to the labs.

Sarita expected to be stopped at whatever moment, but she fabricated information technology all the fashion to the tree line outside the contend without encountering anyone. Pausing just inside the trees, she eyed the fenced-in buildings that made up Dr. Dressler'due south labs. From the air the one-half a dozen long low buildings had fabricated her think of army barracks. Now, equally her gaze slid over the towers on each corner of the high fence surrounding the buildings, she decided it looked more like a prison.

She looked at the men in the towers again, this time checking each one more carefully. Sarita couldn't be certain in the dying light, only it seemed to her that their attention was focused inside the argue rather than out. As if they were guarding confronting someone escaping rather than intruders. Thinking that could but be proficient for her, she straightened her shoulders and approached the gatehouse at the fence entrance.

Sarita prepared herself for a verbal boxing as she crossed the brusk distance, expecting whoever was guarding the gate to refuse her entry. Only she was determined that she would at least brand them call Dr. Dressler out to the gate. She would get him to tell his men to accept her to the mainland in either the helicopter or a boat and so that she could encounter her grandmother. It was why she was hither in Venezuela. And Sarita was pretty pissed virtually being fabricated to cool her heels here on the island for three days when her grandmother was in a hospital on the mainland.

In the end, Sarita didn't accept to argue with the homo in the gatehouse. She walked up to the window, opened her mouth to explain herself, and then closed it without saying a give-and-take as she noticed that the blond man within wasn't fifty-fifty looking her style. He was sitting with his back to the window and gate, earbuds in his ears every bit he watched a motion-picture show on the calculator on the counter in front end of him.

A porno, she saw as her gaze slid to the computer screen.

So much for security, Sarita thought dryly and glanced to the gate. There was a large gate, presumably for vehicles, and a smaller one for people to pass through. Sarita walked to the smaller gate. When she found information technology wasn't fifty-fifty locked and opened hands, she shook her caput with cloy and slipped through, then pulled it gently closed. She headed for the nearest building at a quick clip and was more than halfway to information technology before a shout sounded. It was followed by another, and and so another every bit others heard the call and noticed her.

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