Now that she realized it, she could see her mate clearly in the dark where the other night she’d struggled to make out even the outline of his face. What was this? Was it from the mating bond?
Sitting up in bed, she crossed her legs and tried to figure out what else felt different. Her ears twitched, and she heard the soft hum of the refrigerator as if she were sitting next to it. The crickets outside the window were loud, and she thanked the Lord she liked their sounds; otherwise, she'd be outside trying to smash them all the first time they kept her up at night.
A light crunch of the small stones that covered the asphalt of the driveway caught her attention. A raccoon, maybe. Some type of small animal was her best guess. She marveled in the newfound differences, noting her completely healed cut from the other day and her closed-over, but still tender, mating bite.
Her hand was closed over her shoulder when she heard the slightest creak of the stairs. Sitting up straight, she frowned, trying to figure out what it was, if anything. A light jiggle of the doorknob had her shaking Declan awake.
“What is it?” he said, still half asleep.
She was pointed toward the front door just as he jumped from the bed, a threatening growl erupting from his chest. The door crashed open.
Everything happened so quickly, all Natalie could do was scamper to her feet and press herself against the wall. In an instant, Declan changed, his beast all but ripping out of him. If she thought Kaleb had been intimidating before, he didn't hold a candle to an enraged Declan.
His roar rattled her eardrums just as two burly men jumped on him, barely avoiding his gnashing teeth and razor-sharp claws. One swipe sent the first man flying to the floor. Natalie screamed as two more came from out of nowhere.
Declan against one was easy. Against two, he could manage. But against four? She could see his increased strain as more and more men filled the room until he was completely overwhelmed. They pinned him to the floor as he snarled and snapped his teeth. They strapped a metal collar around his neck and immediately jumped back.
Natalie heard the electricity before she saw the arc hit his neck. Once, twice, three times they zapped him as he clawed at the poles holding him. He was shaking and every whine that escaped him as they tortured him tore another hole in her. “Stop it!”
They ignored her. Launching at them, scratching their eyes out, crossed her mind but with the now ten oversized males that filled the room, she knew it would be useless. Finally, Declan began to shrink back, the shocks having their desired effect.
Panting and bleeding from his time wrestling with the men, Declan cast one glance in her direction before meeting the glare of the man standing in the doorway. When she saw who it was, she wanted to vomit.
"Declan Azarov, you are being placed under arrest for the crime of treason. You will be brought before the Council for judgment and the human you've exposed all of us to will be exterminated immediately," Red Bowinger announced, his voice laced with a sick sense of pleasure at seeing Declan's misery.
Natalie doubled over and nearly retched when a strong arm grabbed her. When she looked up, she met Jackson's eyes. Jackson the motherfucking Jackass. He looked at her with sympathy which she wanted to slap right off his face. Jerking herself from his grasp, he almost lost his grip but caught the sleeve of her t-shirt and pulled it over her shoulder.
"We got a problem," he stated plainly, looking at her skin. "She can't be executed."
“We don’t ‘execute’ humans, Vastag, we exterminate them.”
“Whatever.” There were a few chuckles in the room as the other men listened to the exchange between Red and Jackson. “We still can’t kill her.”
“Why not?” Red snapped, clearly not wanting to hear anything Jackson had to say. They may be working together, but there was no love lost here.
Jackson ran his hand over the bite mark on her skin as if to verify its authenticity, holding her upper arm tightly just as she tried to shirk away from him. “They’re mated.”
13
Three hours after being forced to sit in a cramped cell beneath the Council House and being denied access to his mate, Declan was brought before the Council. He didn't know where Natalie was, and it was tearing at him. Jackson led her out of the apartment after him and drove off with her in a separate vehicle outside the gates of his parent's property.
Hannah wailed in distress, a pained guttural cry that echoed through the quiet night air and lanced his heart when she saw them being taken away. For a split second, he saw the vibrations overtake her pajama-clad form, and he knew she'd change and attack them. It was only their mother wrapping her arms around his sister's shoulders that kept her contained and prevented Hannah from being taken in with him. She whispered words he couldn't hear into Hannah's ear, tears coming down both of their faces.
His father was nowhere to be seen.
Zachariah Mason stood inside his own iron-walled cell, his weather-worn hands gripping the bars, and watched as the Council Enforcement officers forced Declan into an equally small cell directly across from his. The werewolf waited until most of the CE officers disappeared before asking, "What'd you do, son?"
The sadness in his voice was almost too much for Declan to bear. He came to Boston with the intention of helping the Masons. Of finding Everleigh because she birthed a hybrid child. Of ensuring Zachariah was treated well.
Declan stopped pacing his cell and scenting the air long enough to hold up the bite mark on the inside of his forearm. It was still red from where he tore into his flesh, but it was closed over.
Zachariah whistled. “Not a werewolf female, I take it?”
“Human.”
That rendered the old man speechless, confusion marring his face as he tried to process what his own territory leader just told him. Declan was guilty of the very crime he was charged with. There was no denying it.
He almost missed Zachariah’s whispered words. “I’m sorry.”
When he stood in front of the twenty-one thrones in the Council room, the audience's seating area overflowing with Others until it was standing room only. The wide double doors were open, and when he turned his head, eyes still searching for Natalie and nose working overtime, he saw they flooded into the hallway as well. His mother and Hannah were there also, packed in with everyone else.
CE males lined the walls, and the two who held him didn't relax their grips on his arms or the sturdy poles that controlled the electric-laden collar he still wore. They shocked him until his flesh burned away while at the apartment, so he didn’t give them another reason to use it. Not when he couldn't find his mate anyway.
Where was she? He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Jackson either since being dragged away.
In all the years he'd been in this very room, he never saw all twenty-one seats filled until this moment. Roarke, the fae king, sat in full regalia, his massive wings stretched and on display as if to show his importance. He looked as if he was about to go to a party rather than pass judgment on a traitor. Perhaps that's where he'd go after.
Dis sat on his own throne, his face almost impassive except for the small glint of pleasure in his dark eyes. The warlock would enjoy watching the son of his counterpart hanged for committing the most deplorable crime one could commit as an Other.
Declan had done it without so much as a second thought, both he and Gabriel. Considering everything he had gone through and everything he still would go through, if Gabriel asked him to protect Natalie one more time, he'd do it again without hesitation.
He tried to squelch the whine in his chest, but it was impossible. She was his weakness, and every single person in that room knew it because of the bite mark on his arm.
Malcolm sat in his chair, refusing to meet Declan’s gaze. He stared at the floor, his face pale. Curtis tried to say a few words to him, Malcolm didn’t appear to hear anything the other werewolf said.
It was Lucretia’s voice that filled the chamber and silenced the whispered voices. “Declan Azarov, do you know wh
y you’re here?” He remained quiet, but he met the vampire’s glowing eyes.
She seemed to realize he wasn’t going to say anything, so she pressed on. "You've been charged with treason in the highest degree. You've been accused of willfully exposing our existence to a human. Not only did you jeopardize the safety of every single Other, both in this room and across the entirety of the globe, but you also stand accused of mating her."
Lucretia silenced as the whispers in the room turned into shocked and disbelieving yells. Of course, no one would believe that he, the son of a Council member, would do something so selfish. So stupid, and against everything any of them ever believed in since the day they entered this world.
As Natalie said, this fucked-up world they all lived in.
A loud boom cracked in the room and shook the walls. Dis sat at his full height, a snarl curling his thin lips. "Quiet."
No one spoke. At that moment he could have heard a pin drop. Lucretia turned her eyes back to him. "Declan Azarov, how do you plead?"
He ground his teeth together, meeting Lucretia’s eyes but refusing to open his mouth. He was obviously guilty, but saying the word out loud wasn’t an option. Not if he wanted to keep Natalie alive. They wouldn’t kill her as long as he was on trial because her murder would be a death sentence for him and no Council member would do that without pushing for the full spectacle.
Declan Azarov, son of Council member Malcolm Azarov, territory and werewolf district one leader, ex-champion cage fighter, and prince amongst werewolves would be made an example of. No one would dare go against the Council again. He'd be punished to the fullest extent of their laws. They'd talk about his trial and execution for the rest of their lives, telling the story of his fall from grace to their grandchildren to serve as a warning.
He stood ramrod straight and met Dis’s eyes in a silent challenge.
The warlock tilted his chin, his voice tight and tinged with anger when he asked, “How do you plead?”
If they wanted a spectacle, he'd give it to them. He'd take the accusations to trial, and he'd buck every single one of them. With the entire Netherworld watching, he'd keep himself and Natalie alive until the absolute last possible moment.
“Not guilty.”
Natalie was freaking the fuck out. As soon as her mate was dragged from the garage apartment, she was restrained and placed in the backseat of a black SUV. The scent of Declan’s burnt flesh hit her nose and made her crazy.
She knew Paula and Hannah were there, but she hadn’t spared them a glance. Her eyes stayed trained on Declan until he was taken out of her line of sight and placed in the back of an armored van.
“Where are they taking him?” she demanded from Jackson as he belted her into her seat.
“The Council House. He’ll be arraigned in front of the Council and, depending on his plea, will either be sentenced immediately or taken to trial.” He slid into the seat next to her as two men climbed into the front.
When they pulled away from the curb, she asked, “Where are you taking me?”
One of the men in the front seat turned to meet her eyes with a pair of bright violet eyes that stunned her. She'd never seen eyes like his before. His hair was shaved close on the side like Jackson's, but it was much shorter on top, as if he'd just started wearing it that way.
His body stretched the full width of the seat, and he had to keep himself turned slightly to prevent smashing shoulders with their driver. He wasn't a werewolf, that much she knew, but she hadn't the faintest idea what the hell he was.
“You’re not going with your mate,” he said, his voice a deep rumble.
No crying, she told herself. Buck up…buck up… Her dad’s words – which used to help her draw strength to face whatever was going on – wasn’t fixing this. It wasn’t making her feel strong or in control of anything, especially herself.
She thought about her sister. Nikki would never know what happened to her. She may come looking eventually, but as a human, Nikki wouldn't find anything. Would the Council go after her and her parents, thinking that maybe Natalie revealed their existence to her family?
“Having a panic attack isn’t going to help you,” Jackson told her as she began gasping, her chest aching with the dread that filled it. “Breathe.”
“Shut up, Jackass.”
He snorted with laughter as her insult. “Feisty little human, aren’t you?
“Vastag, stop harassing our prisoner.” The driver’s voice filled the small space and rattled her eardrums so hard she whimpered.
Jackson ignored him, his eyes staying on her. “Ears hurt?”
She nodded.
“Seeing more clearly?”
Again, she nodded.
“What about your sense of smell since he bit you?”
“You fucking stink, Jackson,” she growled at him. “You reek of cigars and alcohol.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, shifting the symmetry of his close-cut beard. “I haven’t had a drink since around eight last night. Smoked a Cuban then as well, in a highly ventilated area I might add. Little human not so human anymore?”
“There are no bitten werewolves,” she said, repeating Gabriel’s words from the first day she met Declan.
“True, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t take on some of your werewolf’s abilities. You just don’t have the beast inside you.”
"Not for the past few hours, anyway," their driver said with a snicker making her want to wallop him upside the head. She'd do it too, if her hands weren't tied behind her back. She'd slap the shit out of all of them.
“Shut up, Ethan. You’re not funny. You’re not clever. You’re just a dick,” the man with the violet eyes snapped.
Well, maybe not him.
The violet eyed man turned in his seat. “I’m Daegan, by the way.”
Was she supposed to tell him that it was nice to meet him? Her brows drawn in confusion, she opened and closed her mouth only to be saved when someone’s cell phone rang.
Jackson shifted in his seat and reached into the cargo pocket of his black pants. "Yeah?" he asked as soon as he lifted the phone to his ear.
She heard a man’s voice on the other end of his call. “The foot has slipped. 833 with cargo in tow.”
What the hell did that mean?
Jackson ended the call without another word, slid his phone back into his pocket and looked in the side-view mirror to meet the violet eyes of the man riding shotgun in silent communication. Natalie sat up, confused as she glanced back and forth between Jackson and Daegan until Jackson looked directly into her eyes and held her gaze.
Slowly, he lifted a single finger to his lips and her breath caught in her throat.
Their driver was trailing behind the caravan, but chose that moment to turn on his blinker and hang a right, seemingly oblivious to everything that had just transpired in the back seat. "Daegan, will you place a call to holding to let them know we’re bringing someone in and we’re about five minutes out?"
Daegan stared at him, not showing any signs of movement.
"Place the call, man," the driver tried again, glancing between the violet-eyed behemoth and the road.
As quick as a lightning strike, Daegan's hand shot out and wrapped around his neck. There was a sickening crunch, and then Ethan went limp in the driver's seat.
Natalie didn't have time to scream as his foot fell straight down on the gas and the vehicle lurched forward.
“We won’t make it out of here if we crash,” Jackson warned, unbuckling his seatbelt and jerking the dead driver between the seats and pulling his foot off the gas as Daegan dove for the floorboard.
“Shit, I’m trying,” she heard him mutter just as he slammed on the brake and sent her flying forward in her seat.
Jackson hauled Ethan’s body into the backseat with Daegan’s pushing. Buckling the body into the seat he just vacated, Jackson began securing the dead man’s hands with the chains he brought out from under the seat. Who had iron chains in the back of their
luxury SUV?
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, incredulous.
“He’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up.”
“How can he be pissed? He’s dead!”
"He's a vampire, honey," Daegan said from the front. "They're always dead. Sometimes they're just a little deader than others. He'll be fine in a few minutes."
“What the hell is going on? Jackson!” she screamed as he slammed the door and hopped into the front. “Jackson!”
Once he was inside, Daegan slammed on the gas, and they rocketed forward. With a mischievous grin, Jackson turned in the seat and gave her a wink. "Welcome to the Resistance, Natalie. Now if we can get Declan out of the hangman's noose, we'll be straight."
Pissed didn’t describe what Ethan was when he regained consciousness. It had taken all of Daegan and Jackson’s strength to manhandle him into the front door of the brick row home off Beacon street. Natalie watched from the backseat of the idling SUV parked on the curb, alone for the first time since they left the apartment.
Still restrained, she didn't bother trying to run, especially not after Jackson's declaration about wanting to free Declan and muttering some crap about the Resistance, whatever that was. He didn’t elaborate, and she was still too stunned to start asking questions.
A few seconds later, an older gentleman stepped out into the glow of the street lights and opened her door. His genuinely warm smile sucked away the fear gnawing at her gut. Even hunched over in his older age, he was well over six foot. His silver hair was unruly as he studied her with sparkling hazel eyes.
He leaned over her, unbuckled her seatbelt, and gently held her arm to help her out of the car. “My name is Henry,” he said.
"Natalie."
"I know who you are." Her feet now on the pavement, he instructed, "Turn around." She complied, and there was a sharp tug as he released her ties before turning her back to face him, hissing in relief and rubbing her wrists.
“You must have a lot of questions,” he said. “I have some of my own. Let’s go inside.”
Before Dawn Page 20