Deeper than the Night - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,96

human vampires draining Alex of blood, oflife, selling little vials of Alex's blood, getting rich, while Alex was confined to a cage, his freedom forever lost while he was fed and groomed like a prize bull. She imagined Barrett collecting Alex's sperm, testing it, artificially inseminating some unsuspecting woman . . .

"Oh, Alex, no . . . no." Sitting up, she wiped the tears from her eyes, wondering if Barrett would return to the lab in Silverdale. But surely he wouldn't be that foolish, that arrogant.

And yet, maybe he would. He'd never expect her to walk into the lion's den looking for Alex. Not when she'd been lucky to escape with her life.

She worried her lower lip with her teeth. Maybe Barrett would have someone there, waiting for her, just in case.

I'm afraid you've become a liability, Miss Crawford,he'd said not long ago. But don't worry, I am a doctor, after all. Your passing will be quick and painless . . .

The calmness with which he had spoken those words still had the power to chill the blood in her veins. But she couldn't abandon Alex, couldn't leave him at Barrett's mercy, not when he had sacrificed his freedom for hers. Not when she loved him more than life itself.

Somehow, she would find him again.

He struggled through layers of darkness, groaned low in his throat as he opened his eyes and saw the skylight overhead. He blinked against the glare of the sun. Sometime during the drive back to the lab, Barrett had drugged him. It had left a bad taste in his mouth, made it hard to think coherently. He sat up, realizing, as he did so, that his hands were still shackled. A short chain had been attached to one of the cuffs, tethering him to the iron bed frame.

A noise behind him drew his attention, and he turned around to see Barrett hunched over a tray that contained a dozen glass vials filled with blood.

"How much?" Alex asked, his voice as dry as sandpaper. "How much are you selling my blood for?"

Barrett glanced up and smiled. "It varies," Barrett replied. "The president of a bank paid me thirty thousand dollars to see if I could cure his little girl of leukemia. I received a check from a prominent Hollywood director offering me fifty thousand to treat his wife. One of the country's leading attorneys wrote me a check for a hundred grand. He's suffering from heart trouble. And that was just this morning."

Alex swallowed in an effort to clear the dryness from his throat. "Have you tried it? Does it work?"

Barrett nodded. "I gave the bank president's daughter an injection of your blood this morning. She's already showing signs of improvement. The Hollywood case is being flown in next week. The attorney arrives next Friday."

"What if they couldn't pay?" Alex glanced at the tray again. "Would that little girl still have received my blood?"

"Not at this time," Barrett said. "New vaccines are always expensive. Overhead, tests, new equipment . . ." He waved his hand in the air. "Once we've perfected the vaccine, the price may come down."

"No doubt you'll be a very rich man by then," Alex remarked sarcastically.

"I'm not doing this for the money!" Barrett shouted, his face livid. His gaze slid away from Alex's and he took several deep, calming breaths.

Alex closed his eyes. His blood had saved a child's life. He tried to take satisfaction in the thought, but it was hard to get past the bitterness that threatened to choke him as he imagined spending the rest of his life in a cage while Barrett sold his blood to the highest bidder.

"Well," Barrett said, "I thinkthat's all you can spare for a while. Hamblin will be in with your dinner shortly." Barrett left the room, and Alex stared after him, the thought of food making him sick to his stomach.

A short time later, the door opened again and Mitch Hamblin entered the room. He was a good-looking kid, with slicked-back dark brown hair, and eyes older than his years.

Hamblin placed a covered tray on the bedside table, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. "You gonna keep your word, Claybourne?"

A wry grin tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. It was the first time anyone here had called him by name. He was the creature, the alien, the monster. "You got a pen?"

Hamblin tossed a ballpoint pen Onto the tray, then stood watching, eyes wide, as Alex