Nightshine: A Novel of the Kyndred by Lynn Viehl Read Free Book Online Page B

light fixtures of green glass blown in long, graceful curves that suggested palm fronds. Bowls woven from twigs and set on carved wooden pedestals held mounds of fresh fruit.
    An odd dragging sensation on her scalp made her reach up and touch her hair, which had been taken out of the braid she wore for work and curled. She felt a long strand of beads woven through the curls and pulled it out, wincing as some hairs came with it. The beads turned out to be pearls, and as she remembered the dream she threw it away from her.
    “Who’s here?” she called out, angry now. “Where am I?”
    Through the three-story glass panels of the exterior wall Charlie could see an extended patio deck, and beyond that real palm trees, fanlike palmettos, and clustered thatches of towering bamboo. A slate-lined path led down from the deck and through the tropical landscaping to a golden sand beach, where ivory-edged turquoise waves lapped lazily over long, scrolling bands of seashells.
    Charlie had seen pictures of places like this. They were called resorts instead of hotels. There would be butlers instead of bellboys, personal chefs instead of vending machines, and if you had to ask how much the room cost per night, you couldn’t afford it.
    There was one person in the room who could, however, and she kept her eye on him as she looked around for some clothes. She found a pair of thick, soft, gold velour robes draped across the foot of a lounge chair and jerked one on as she came around the bed.
    “Sam. Wake up.”
    “Buenos días, Señorita Marena.”
    Charlie whirled around, but no one else had entered the room. “Who’s there? Come out here where I can see you.”
    “Welcome to Séptima Casa,” the man’s voice said, and this time she spotted the intercom panel set into the wall beside a mural of dolphins leaping from the waves. “This is your new home. We will see to it that you and Señor Taske live in complete comfort and happiness. As long as you abide by two simple rules, you will want for nothing.”
    Charlie exploded. “Who the hell do you think you are?” She turned toward the bed. “Is this your idea of a practical joke? Because I don’t think it’s funny. Get up.” She strode over and shook Sam’s shoulder, but he remained limp.
    “The first rule is that you must not try to escape,” the man continued smoothly, as if she’d said nothing. “Any attempt at escape will result in immediate punishment.”
    “Samuel.” She shook him harder. “Wake up.”
    The faintly snide voice went on. “The second rule is that you and your partner will have sexual intercourse at least once each day. If you fail to do so for any reason, again, you will be punished.”
    Charlie stopped listening to the man as she felt something damp on her forearm, and turned it to see a fresh bloodstain. She pulled away the sodden sheet from a wide, bleeding gash in Samuel’s side.
    “Christ.” Now she saw the ashen tone of his skin and felt the cool moistness of it as she checked his pulse, which was weak and fluttered rapidly under her fingertips. She saw no swelling or bruising across his abdomen, and when she thumbed up his eyelids his pupils appeared enlarged.
    Quickly she dragged down one of the pillows and elevated his legs before she tore a dry section away from the bottom of the sheet. Once she had folded and pressed it against the wound, she turned her head toward the speaker. “This man is wounded and in shock,” she shouted. “He needs to be taken to a hospital. Immediately.”
    “Buenos días, Señorita Marena,” the man’s voice said, exactly as he had before. “Welcome to Séptima Casa. This is your new home. We will see to it that you and Señor Taske live in complete comfort and happiness. . . .”
    The voice was a looped recording, Charlie realized, and swore under her breath as she quickly inspected the wound. She saw no indication of internal injuries or serious bleeders, which was the only good news. She had no way