Read To Honor: Vampire Assassin League #22 for Free Online

something she’d never experienced, too. That shower had been automated. She’d stepped in to an immediate spray of water of a perfect temperature, and when she’d finished and turned the door latch, the water had shut off.
    All by itself.
    That experience almost allowed a seed of doubt into her mind about her abductor: Takeshi Asourah. Such an idea wasn’t inconceivable. I mean. Come on, Christine. He might have cultural issues with her gender...but he was dreamboat gorgeous and major sexy. Every moment in his company sent her hormones on a roller-coaster ride she’d had trouble disguising. He was fit, too. Agile. He moved faster than she’d been able to track. He was probably packing a hell of a six-pack beneath his black shirt and jacket. Looked like he had world-class wealth, too. And connections. What else explained the email she’d been given...the one with her company code? She should give him a little break here.
    Then again...
    She wasn’t the type that fantasized about guys...especially one who denigrated her ability to comprehend. She didn’t let anybody put down her mental acuity. Not without a sharp taste of it first.
    Christine opened her eyes. Gasped. And sat up.
    Okay.
    Her descent into madness was triggering all kinds of visual and auditory impossibilities. She wasn’t aboard the jet? How was that possible? She’d been exhausted, but had she really been that oblivious? She didn’t know why she asked it of herself. The answer was obvious. She was sitting in the center of a large span of bed, atop a platform inches above a wooden floor. The sheets were definitely made from silk. As was the Japanese undergarment called a juban that she wore. The pattern of cherry blossom trees against a vivid turquoise background was just as stunning as when she’d first seen it after her shower. She must have slept hard. The silk was wrinkled. And her hair could use a brushing.
    For the first time in years, Christine felt really unsure. Frightened. It was like the time her adoptive mom had crept down the hall, strap in hand, and...
    No.
    She wouldn’t think of it.
    That episode was history, and bad history at that. She’d conquered her demons. Moved on with life. Immersed herself in Eastern culture studies. Graduated at the top of her class. Become self-sufficient. Successful. A woman of self-confidence and purpose.
    Her adoptive mother had been insane. And insanity wasn’t catching.
    Christine got out of that situation by doing what she always did. Relying on what was real. Tangible. Physically verifiable. Exactly what she needed to do right now.
    The bed she perched atop was in the center of an immense span of highly polished wood. The floor gleamed with streaks of light from some sort of illumination peeking through gauzy-looking panels. A fireplace owned the far wall, complete with a large raised hearth. There was a sliding door to the right of it. It looked constructed of light wood. Without a handle. Good . At least she knew the way out. And she wasn’t imprisoned. There were several pieces of furniture placed about the room, most constructed of wood, some in black lacquer or inlaid mother-of-pearl. A wooden chest sat beside her pallet. It held an incense bowl. She watched as a tiny bit of smoke wafted upward from it.
    Well. That explained the aroma.
    She swiveled slowly, pushing the mass of unbound hair over her shoulder. Wait. What? She should remember that. Her hair was loose. Her braid bands gone. How had that happened? And when?
    Reality, Christine. Stick to the program.
    Behind her was a fountain. Rectangular. Really tall. It was exactly as she’d pictured in her mind. Water flowed from the top, trickling along rock ledges before filling a pool at the bottom. She could see white flower petals floating in the pool. She scanned up. The ceiling appeared to be more wood, in an interlocking pattern. There was a large bit of white cloth hooked above her, forming a canopy. She looked back out at the