Hunter plays for more than just your life. And remember, she is not constrained by human sensibilities.
But she was human once.
Near-immortality has a way of cleansing the soul of any semblance of humanity. It is rare for anyone—human or otherwise—to live for many centuries without time washing away all that they once were.
That's not always the case, I said, thinking of Uncle Quinn, who was only a hundred or so years younger than Hunter.
As I said, it is rare.
We continued to walk through the room. By the time we swept into a narrow corridor, sweat beaded my forehead and ran down my spine. I flexed my fingers, but it didn't do a whole lot to ease the tension thrumming through me. We may have made it out of the main room, but we were far from safe, and the ever-growing tide of hunger that trailed us only confirmed that.
The glow from the swords revealed a dozen doors leading off the corridor. Each one had a light above it, some red, some green. The sounds coming from inside the red-lit ones suggested there was some heavy-duty lovemaking going on—some solo but mostly partnered, if the scents were anything to go by.
And suddenly the reason for all the thralls we'd sensed earlier became obvious—they might have been here to provide sex, but they were also more able to withstand harsh punishment, and healed far faster than regular humans, thanks to their blood link to the vampire who had created them. Which wasn't saying they couldn't be killed—they weren't immortal, just as vamps weren't immortal—but short of cutting off their heads or gutting their internals, they were capable of surviving events that would have killed them in the pre-thrall era.
Marshall stopped at the second-to-last door on the right and opened it. As he did, the light above went from green to red. "I don't recommend moving out of here without me."
"It's not like we're going to be any safer inside than outside now, is it?" I commented grimly.
"No." He stood to one side to let us pass. "Not given what the council desires. But I will do my best to limit the damage, both to my club and to my customers."
Meaning we could go to hell in a handbasket for all he cared. Fabulous.
"However," he continued, "this is the only door into this room, so if you remain here, you should be able to handle all but an insane rush."
Which he'd all but implied might be in the cards. And the hunger so evident in the larger room certainly backed that up. "The council might not care either way, but I don't think Hunter will be pleased if I end up dead, and I suggest you remember that."
"I think I have more knowledge than you ever will on just what will and won't please Hunter." His voice was dry, but there was an undercurrent that spoke of anger. Resentment, even. Which was odd if he was her creation. "The viewing screen is to the right, and the control panel to your left. Ensure that the door is locked."