Master's Blood (The Shifter Chronicles 6)

by M. D. Grimm

  “My turn.” Nordik charged.

  Chapter Six

  As far as Nordik was concerned, this was foreplay. He’d scented Poe’s arousal, faint though it was, and wanted more. Thirsted for more. Poe stimulated him, intellectually, physically. The man was a warrior, strong and swift, fierce and loyal. And the fire in those blue eyes aroused him. Poe met him, toe-to-toe, never backing down, always pushing. Even wounded, Poe was his match, and Nordik’s desire burned him to the core.

  He managed to tackle Poe, bringing them to the hard ground. He saw the fear but also the determination in Poe’s eyes. He wasn’t one to give up easily. There was such strength in that compact body, enough to allow Poe to roll them. Nordik ended up on the bottom, and he took moment to appreciate the lovely view of Poe straddling him right before Poe’s fist landed in his face.

  The punch caught Nordik off guard, so enraptured was he as he beheld Poe’s passionate fury. Stars sparked before his eyes as pain lanced through his face. He barely managed to grab Poe’s arms, to keep him from landing another punch.

  “You’ll pay for that,” Nordik growled. Fear once more leapt into Poe’s eyes. Nordik rolled them again, capturing Poe underneath him. He pressed the length of his body on top of Poe, and shifted his grip to the agent’s wrists.

  “Damn you,” Poe said, panting. He struggled, rubbing against Nordik’s erection when he lay between Poe’s legs. Poe’s arousal pressed against his stomach while Nordik’s own arousal was pressing against his constricting jeans.

  Nordik grinned at Poe’s anger. Then he smashed his mouth against Poe’s scowling lips. He fully expected Poe to bite him or punch him or something. Instead, the agent froze. Nordik moved his mouth against Poe’s lips, keeping Poe’s arms on the ground, and was disconcerted when Poe made no attempt to yield or fight. Was he in shock?

  Nordik lifted his head and licked his lips. Poe tasted delicious and sweet, and yet the enjoyment dimmed when Poe didn’t participate. Poe stared at him wide-eyed, and Nordik didn’t only note shock but actual terror in those eyes.

  Terror? Why? Nordik still felt Poe’s erection, and the scent of his arousal was more pungent than before. Poe wasn’t completely unwilling. Right as Nordik was starting to feel awkward and confused, Poe closed his eyes and screwed up his face. Nordik lifted more of his body off Poe and loosened his grip on the agent’s wrists, completely unsure as to his next move. Then Poe’s eyes popped open. He yanked his arm out of Nordik’s hand, and that small fist connected with Nordik’s side, ramming against his kidney. Nordik cried out and rolled over, gripping his side. Poe sat up and glared at him.

  “You so deserve that. Prick.” Poe was spitting mad, trembling with a red face.

  Nordik thought the entire situation was funny. He laughed and winced at the pain it caused. By the spirits, that fiery man had a wicked punch.

  “Why the fuck are you laughing?” Poe punched his shoulder. It was less forceful than the punch to the kidney, but pain still shot down his arm.

  Nordik simply shook his head, still laughing.

  “Shifters,” Poe grumbled and moved to stand, but Nordik grabbed his arm.

  “Wait.”

  Poe’s eyes flashed, and Nordik loosened his grip. “Just wait a moment.” Nordik calmed and sat up, cupping his tender side. “Have breakfast with me.”

  Poe’s brows furrowed, suspicion clear. “Why?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Nordik murmured.

  Poe’s flush deepened, though his expression didn’t fade.

  “We will talk,” Nordik said. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  Poe seemed to consider doing just that but instead shrugged and continued to sit on the ground with him. Nordik let go of his arm and rubbed his side.

  “I though native peoples didn’t kiss,” Poe said.

  Nordik snorted loudly. “I do a lot of things my people didn’t do. It comes with being so old.”

  Poe grunted.

  “How did you get so strong?”

  “That’s my gift,” Poe said stiffly. “One from my fae ancestors.”

  “I can see that it comes in handy.”

  Poe’s eyes narrowed farther. “You have no idea.”

  They ate breakfast, and Nordik found pleasure watching Poe. He really wanted to kiss him again, and this time, he wanted some response from Poe. At least the agent knew his intentions. Nordik had never been one for games, and he made it a habit of getting what he wanted. Most of his lovers had appreciated his bluntness, and he had a feeling that Poe would as well.

  “What other duties and responsibilities do you have back at the Agency?” he asked, remembering what Poe had said.

  They were sitting at the small folding kitchen table across from each other, and Poe rested his forearms on the table, leaning forward.

  “Let’s have a little quid pro quo here, Nordik,” Poe said. “You ask a question, and I answer it honestly, then I ask you a question and you answer it honestly. That way we’re both satisfied. Deal?”

  Nordik leaned across the small table as well, shortening the distance so that their heads were only about a foot apart. He smiled. That seemed fair, and he enjoyed listening to Poe’s voice.

  “Deal.”

  “I was the one to led the Agency into raiding the Knights’ headquarters.” Poe leaned back in his chair. “And I was also the one to let Arcas slip through my fingers.”

  There was obvious bitterness in Poe’s voice, and Nordik said nothing.

  “We gained a lot of data and more knights than we were prepared to handle,” Poe continued. “We also have more imprisoned shifters than we can adequately help. And during all that, an aide of ours, a young man, was kidnapped by a wolf shifter I captured nearly a year ago. We don’t know their whereabouts or if Josh is even alive. The shifter is also slightly unhinged.”

  Poe took a deep gulp from the mug of coffee that Nordik had refilled.

  “I’m sorry.” He meant it.

  Poe shrugged. “That’s why I was less than pleased when Chief Anu called me in to find you. Which took me way longer than it should have considering my skill as a tracker.”

  Nordik smiled again. Poe would never have found him without Nordik wanting to be found. It was as simple as that, but he let Poe keep talking.

  Poe sighed. “Anyway, I also had vacation time coming up, which isn’t easy to come by, believe me, and my parents were disappointed when I had to push it off.”

  Nordik watched the emotions on Poe’s face and in his eyes, and wanted to memorize his little movements, his facial expressions. They were subtle and expressed so much.

  “How old are you?” Poe asked.

  He blinked. “What?”

  “You heard me,” Poe said, smirking. “How old are you, shifter-boy?”

  Nordik tilted his head slightly. “Is that really the question you wish to ask?”

  Poe shrugged. “A deal’s a deal.”

  “I am very old,” he said, stopping to think about it. “I remember the land as it was before the white settlers came.”

  Poe blinked. “That’s… a really long time.”

  “Indeed, it is. My tribe knew I was special when I was born.” He fingered his hair. “My coloring alone told them I had a special purpose. They waited for the spirits to tell them that purpose. It was only when we realized my aging slowed once I became a man did they learn.”

  Nordik felt an old sadness touch his heart. He looked down at his hands. “I watched generations of my tribe being born and dying. I watched them, protected them, but couldn’t stop them from fading away into history.” He paused. “They escaped to the mountains, the forests, when the white man invaded our lands. We fought, but too many of us died. I couldn’t bear it anymore. I led them away. I gave up.”

  “You didn’t give up,” Poe said gently. When Nordik met his gaze, Poe smiled slightly. “I can’t imagine what that was like. But who can begrudge you for wanting your tribe to survive?”

  The fact that Poe was trying to comfor
t him alone comforted Nordik more than his words did.

  “What can you tell me about the Knights?” he asked, done with talking about his tribe. The past was long gone. “When did they form?”

  Poe took a sip of coffee before answering. “Well, there have always been small pockets of people who knew about shifters and were determined to destroy them.”

  Nordik felt old anger flare and stamped it down. Then he caught Poe’s anger answering his own, and that reinforced his suspicion that he’d met a kindred spirit.

  “But I think the Knights formed, officially, maybe a dozen or so years ago,” Poe said thoughtfully. “Something like that. I wasn’t a full agent then, but my then-partner, who’s now a captain, was the lead on finding out more about them. They really became organized about, maybe, two years after that. We didn’t manage to stop them before they got a foothold.”

  The regret was evident in Poe’s voice. Nordik thought back and memory surged forward. An unpleasant and sinister memory, one he’d consciously forgotten but now it seemed relevant.

  “Nordik? What is it?” Poe asked, staring at him intently.

  Nordik rubbed his chin. “Are you sure you want that to be your question?”

  Poe rolled his eyes. “You remembered something, it’s all over your face. Talk.”

  Dammit. Nordik really didn’t want to relive that damned memory, but a deal was a deal.

  “About twelve years ago I had a mate. He was in his older years and used to work for NASA. A genius in his time and a kind man.” Nordik took a bracing breath. “There was a woman, one whose hatred for shifters rivaled that of Arcas. As it should. She was his mother.”

  Poe, who had taken a sip of coffee, coughed and set the mug down with a snap.

  “Wh-what? You knew Arcas’s mother?”

  “I had the most unfortunate opportunity to make her acquaintance,” Nordik said with bite. “She found out I was a master shifter. I never knew how. She kidnapped Timothy.”

  “Your mate?” Poe’s eyes were wide, proving he was enthralled by the tale.

  “Yes. She kidnapped him, beat him, and tied him up. He never recovered from her abuse.” Nordik realized he was squeezing his coffee mug with enough force to crack it and consciously let go. “She kidnapped him as bait for me. I came, of course, and she wanted Arcas to kill me. It would be his rite of passage. But I killed her instead.”

  Poe’s mouth dropped open.

  Nordik nodded. “I killed Arcas’s mother right before his eyes. I would have killed him as well but he scampered off. I took Timothy home, and we ended up moving to the other side of the country. He died a year after that. His last year was very unhappy.”

  Nordik still remembered Timothy’s nightmares, the way he’d jumped at every noise, his paranoia. Nordik remembered his own impotent rage, his feeling of helplessness, his inability to help his lover.

  Poe touched his arm. Nordik leaned down and kissed the back of his hand and felt Poe tremble. Then Nordik covered Poe’s good hand and met the agent’s blue eyes. They showed his compassion, his sympathy.

  “I escaped to Sanctuary after that,” Nordik said quietly. “I had to mourn, to rage. To forgive myself for not protecting Timothy better. I’m immortal, not perfect.”

  Poe’s mouth twitched. “You? I don’t believe it.”

  Nordik smiled slightly.

  “No wonder Arcas hates shifters so much,” Poe said. Then his eyes widened. “That’s why the knights are here.”

  Nordik tilted his head. “What?”

  “The knights!” Poe shot to his feet. “The woman knight said that Arcas sent her and others to Sanctuary. What if they were sent here to kill you?”

  Nordik leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He couldn’t help but sneer. “They’ll have a hard time of it. If they are anything like the others I’ve dealt with―”

  “Don’t underestimate them, Nordik,” Poe said, panic leaking through. “They all have abilities, like I have. All of them are descendants of the fae. The first one I encountered in the forest blinded me. You never know what you might come across.”

  “No need to worry about me,” Nordik said. Poe’s mouth tightened. Nordik thought he looked adorable.

  “I’m not so much worried about you as I am the idea of losing a master shifter.”

  Nordik knew he was lying. At least he thought he knew. What if he wasn’t? Nordik could still smell Poe’s arousal. But arousal didn’t always mean a deeper bond was felt. What did Poe think about him? His other mates hadn’t been so complicated.

  “Knights are killing shifters,” Poe said before Nordik could speak. “We need your help.”

  Nordik felt trapped. He’d always sensed the reason for his existence was to protect and defend shifters. How could he say no? He didn’t want to, but he was also wary about making an alliance with any organization. He’d made deals before, and his tribe had been deceived and suffered for it.

  He wanted a guarantee.

  “I will ally with the Agency,” he said slowly. “But only if you become my mate.”

  Poe’s face closed up, his eyes became hard, and Nordik could see why some might call him cold. But Nordik sensed the turmoil just below the surface.

  “Agents do not become mates.” Poe’s voice was low. “We are not allowed to have relationships like that.”

  Nordik nodded. “Then my answer is no.”

  Poe’s eyes burned with blue fire. “You selfish bastard. You would sacrifice the life of shifters because I can’t―”

  “I don’t need the Agency,” Nordik said easily, despite his enormous disappointment at Poe’s answer. “I have an army, Poe. At my word, all shifters will gather behind me, and we will crush the remaining knights like the insects they are.”

  “But not without a lot of casualties,” Poe said. “And not without humans finding out about you. Then you have an entirely new problem on your hands.”

  He inclined his head. “That is a valid point. But I say again―”

  “And the Agency has resources,” Poe said. “Where exactly would you begin your search for the knights? They look like everyone else!” Before he could answer, Poe pressed on. “And the Agency was created to protect shifters.” He walked over and placed his good hand on the table, leaning forward. “Don’t forget that. My entire adult life has been dedicated to protecting and hiding shifters and their activities. I clean up after them, plant false information for human authorities to follow.”

  Poe held up his wounded hand. “And I often sacrifice much more for them.”

  A chill went down Nordik’s spine as he stared at Poe’s hand. He remembered the sound of the gunshot, and Poe crumbling to the ground with a howl of pain. He’d stitched that hand up. It must be throbbing with agony but Poe gave no indication of his pain.

  “So tell me,” Poe said. “What is it exactly about the Agency that you’re afraid of?”

  He swallowed and felt ashamed. But he was never one to back down.

  “My terms still stand,” Nordik said. Before Poe could yell at him, which Nordik was sure was coming, he continued. “I have been deceived before, Poe. I am old enough to remember all the lies the white government told the native peoples of this land. I remember the broken promises, the massacres. So forgive me if I am wary of making anymore alliances without… leverage.”

  “Is that what I am?” Poe sounded insulted. “Leverage?”

  “In a way,” Nordik said truthfully. It hurt him to sound cruel, but he wanted them to have an understanding.

  “But mostly.” He grabbed Poe’s wounded hand. Poe instantly tried to draw back. He held Poe’s wrist firmly but gently. “I want you as my mate.” Poe looked away. “I have always been able to know who my next mate was to be.”

  “It can’t be me,” Poe said.

  “But it is.” He tugged Poe forcefully onto his lap. Poe struggled, and Nordik held him firmly around the waist. “Relax.”

  Poe glared at him. There was fear once again in P
oe’s eyes, and Nordik thought he knew now where it came from. Poe not only feared Nordik’s advances but his own responses to them. Nordik smelled the agent’s arousal again and wondered if he would ever break that shell.

  “I know you feel it too.” He gripped the back of Poe’s head and felt his pulse speed up.

  Poe scowled. “You flatter yourself.”

  Nordik smiled. “Then I’m about to flatter myself even more.”

  “If you even think about kissing me again….” Poe’s eyes flashed.

  “I’m going to do more than think,” he said before pressing his mouth against Poe’s again. He hadn’t intended to kiss Poe again, not so soon, but his blood was roaring. That, coupled with the feel of Poe’s tight body on his, so close to his hardness, he couldn’t resist. His desire for a mate had never been so strong before. His control had never been so tenuous.

  Nordik knew what that meant. He’d once thought Merlin’s words to him had been hopeful thinking, or even a lie. But his ancestor, the first master shifter, was correct.

  Soul mates. What a concept. Now if he could only convince Poe of that fact.

  Chapter Seven

  Poe lost his footing a long while back and had yet to regain it. He didn’t have a clue where he stood with this damn shifter. His mind and his body were in constant conflict, and right now it seemed his body had won. He wrapped his arms around Nordik’s shoulders and threw himself into the kiss. He pressed his body harder against Nordik. He changed the angle of the kiss, opening his mouth, inviting Nordik’s tongue inside.

  Nordik took the invitation, and Poe moaned. His hand still throbbed, and the part of his mind that could still think was staring at him in horror. His agent training went out the window, and for the first time in his life he wished fervently that he wasn’t an agent.

  Nordik tasted like pure alpha male and nature in summertime: fresh, a little spicy, and entirely irresistible. Poe tangled his fingers in Nordik’s strange hair and relished the soft strands brushing his skin. Nordik’s hands roamed over his body, strong fingers gripping his clothes and tugging.