Succubus Chained (Shackled Souls Trilogy #1) - Heather Long

Chapter 1

“Of all the things you choose in life, you don’t get to choose what your nightmares are. You don’t pick them; they pick you” - John Irving

I didn’t want to be a damn vampire. The screams echoed off the stone. The sound distant, yet anguished. It must be that time. In the two weeks since I’d been dumped into this place, I’d tracked the routine by when those screams began.

It marked the death and birth of a new day. The chill in the room barely touched me. I wouldn’t have minded better accommodations. Despite my expensive tastes, the damp, stone cell with its single hard bed, a sink that allowed water for washing, and a toilet in the corner they’d actually let me clean before I touched it—look, a girl has to have some standards—was empty.

I was also the only one in this wing, so the wrought iron door, reinforced with its magical protections and salted to boot, didn’t even provide me a view of the emptiness beyond. It was all shadows. The sconces in the corners lit up in the “morning” and extinguished at “night.”

I’d destroyed them twice.

The little bastards always popped back up.

Still, it was something to do when the mental retail therapy grew stale. Currently, I debated between a pair of Louboutins that were last season and the Stuart Weitzman that were just perfectly classic and provocative. Both had stellar heels and would definitely work for my ass. The red-bottomed Louboutins had gotten a little too common. Everyone wanted to be seen in them.

The screams climbed in volume. It would be nice if he could arrive without the serenade. The noise was hardly conducive to mood.

Still, if I went for the Weitzman, what would I pair them with? I was still mentally scrolling through the dress racks when I considered ditching the heels for thigh high boots and a mini-skirt. I had fabulously long legs, and I knew how to work them. Thigh highs screamed ‘come and get me.’

Heat and hunger vied for my attention as I shifted on the bed. The problem was that my fabulously toned legs were looking a little too slender. The thigh highs would hide the loss of tone.

Thigh highs it was.

The door grated open, and I didn’t bother rising as he suddenly filled the space. The shadows deepened, darkening the already pitch space. Seeing in the dark had never been my talent, yet I could make him out as easily as if the sconces were lit. Tall, rangy, and gorgeous, despite the mean streak in him.

“Fiona,” he greeted me as he closed the door and made his way across the cell. Not like he had far to travel.

“Dorran,” I mocked his deep, husky tone as I crossed one leg over the other. I wore the equivalent of a polyester jump suit in the most horrid shade of gray. The color was so drab, it blended with the walls around me.

Chuckling, he held out a hand as he stood in front of me. “You haven’t been eating.”

I rolled my eyes and ignored his hand. “I don’t survive on blood.”

“You used to not need it,” he reminded me, as if I could forget. Even the mention of it had my teeth sharpening. The canines weren’t quite as pronounced as most vampires. I hadn’t been born one or even turned like they sometimes chose with the human cattle they kept close to them. I certainly shouldn’t be one now.

Stupid. Fucking. Dimitri.

When I got out of here—and I would—I planned to gut Dimitri and hang him by his entrails. When he healed, I’d do it again.

A few centuries of that, and I might be willing to let bygones be bygones, or simply rip his head totally off.

That would be nice.

The lust for blood sent another wave of heat and hunger to balloon through me. It didn’t help to have him looming over me, flushed with a lust of his own, and it wasn’t just lust for me, though that was definitely present. Dorran had been feeding, and it practically coiled around him, a dark energy that licked at my skin, even if he wasn’t touching me.

Demons, after all, understood other demons.

With a growl, he clasped my hand and yanked me to my feet. The moment his mouth crashed down on mine, I gave in to the need to feed. Blood may be among my cravings now, but it wasn’t what I needed to survive.

With hot heavy hands, he shoved up my top, even as I