by Lynn Hagen
Did this mean Edward could feed from her without making her an addict?
Salvador finally pulled away. But when Rick tried to ease back, Salvador grabbed the back of Rick’s head and held him into place. “He is very weak. I merely gave him a little more time to allow the lycanthropy to take effect, nothing more. You must not pull away too soon or this will not work.”
Salvador turned to Omar, his dark eyes penetrating as the vampire stared at him. “Dorian is not going to be a vampire, meu destino. He will become changeling.”
Omar nodded. “But Rick’s sister, she mated a man who was bitten by a muerto desde el útero. He won’t feed from her because he is afraid she will become addicted to his bites.” Omar had to know. If Edward could feed from Isabelle, that would be one burden off of the mated pairs’ minds.
“If he was bitten by a true vampire, then he has nothing to worry about. His bite will be very pleasurable, but she will not fall victim to him. I curse the very day the first human was converted. The line of true vampires has grown so thin that we are very few in numbers now.” Salvador’s expression was morose.
“I’ll call Edward,” Nate said as he holstered his gun and pulled his cell phone free. “He’ll be happy as hell to hear the news.”
“Where are the Mãos da Morte?” Omar asked. “Are they dead?”
Salvador glanced down at Omar, but didn’t give him an answer. Omar wasn’t sure what to think. They had just disappeared into thin air. He had never seen anything like that before. It was like watching smoke clear the room. One minute everyone was fighting them, the next they…he wasn’t even sure what they did. Again, it was like smoke blowing away.
“Release him,” Salvador said to Rick. When the werewolf turned their way, worry and fear was hanging heavy in the alpha’s eyes.
“The sword?” Rick asked as he stood next to Dorian’s body.
“Remove it.”
“I can take it out,” Miguel offered as he took a step forward, grim determination lighting up his eyes. “You are my alpha, and I will do whatever it takes to protect you, even from something as horrendous as…you don’t have to do this.”
Rick growled and Omar knew it was a sound from the heart of a werewolf and man. “I will take care of my mate.” It was said with the lethal confidence of a man who knew exactly who he was and didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought. “The offer is greatly appreciated, Miguel, but this task I have to do on my own.”
Controlled words, so damn controlled that Omar feared for Rick’s sanity. Freedman moved in behind Omar, placing a hand on his shoulder as everyone watched Rick yank the sword from Dorian’s midsection, tossing the blade aside.
Dorian fell into Rick’s arms.
Rick caught him with the utmost care.
With the exception of Freedman, everyone knew Dorian would not wake up until the conversion began. Honestly, he didn’t want to be here when it started—if it started. Omar still wasn’t sure if this would work at all.
“Come on,” Freedman said as he pulled Omar back, as if the man had read his very thoughts about not wanting to be here. “This is their time.”
The room cleared out, and before Omar walked out of the bedroom door, he glanced back. Rick sat on the bed, rocking his mate back and forth in his arms, silent tears trailing down his olive-colored cheeks.
Dorian wasn’t sure where he was or what was going on. He could hear Rick’s voice somewhere off in the distance. His mate was crying and begging Dorian to come back to him.
Where had he gone?
Dorian wanted to shout that he was right here, but he was trapped inside his own mind. Only, his veins felt as though they were on fire. Dorian felt something crack inside of him, and then another crack occurred. He wasn’t sure what in the hell was going on, but fuck if he didn’t want out of his body.
It hurt so damn badly that he opened his mouth and screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Gatito,” Rick said in a voice thick with tears. “Oh, god…gatito.”
Dorian was free of his mind, his body now thrashing around, and it felt like every single bone in his body was being snapped in half. He was soaking in his own sweat, his body saturated as his back arched and he let out another scream.
He felt a cool rag touch his face, but just that quickly the coolness turned into heat. He was burning alive! “W–W–What’s wrong with m–m–me?”
Something dark began to form inside of him. Dorian could feel another presence deep within his soul. He wasn’t sure what it was, but knowing another entity was sharing his body scared him down to the core of his being.
“It is your wolf, gatito. Welcome him. Do not fear him.”
Dorian wasn’t sure how it was possible. He really wasn’t. But somehow, he could see the creature. His instincts told him that it was an embryo. It began to form inside of him, taking shape, its body slowly, and painfully, forming. It was like looking at an ultrasound and watching a baby developing inside its mother’s womb, only one thousand times faster. It moved, kicked inside of him, and then began to shake.
It was scared.
Dorian inwardly watched in horror and fascination as the wolf began to take form and grow into a cub, then a small wolf, and then…Dorian screamed as the beast filled every inch of his body, bending his bones until he felt like he was going to shatter. Dorian flipped over, trying to crawl away from the pain, but the pain followed, amplified, and began to rip his skin from his very frame.
“R–R–Rick,” Dorian said as the pain began to sear his insides. “Kill me!”
“The pain will ease, Dorian. I promise. I promise.” The words sank inside of him, but Dorian wasn’t sure if they held true. He was being ripped apart from the inside out. Rick’s hands were gliding over his body, but Dorian couldn’t take comfort in the touch. He was heating up to nuclear proportions.
“Let him out, Dorian. Stop fighting him or you both could die!”
Dorian’s mind flooded with images of changelings in their beast form, with images of the war, and with images of hunting. His arm swung out and he felt it connect with something solid. He was not in control any longer.
The wolf had taken over.
Leaping from the bed, Dorian felt his body explode, and then he was standing there taking in his surroundings, feeling feral, hungry, and a need gripped him to claim the male changeling in the room with him, to make the creature submit.
He walked slowly forward, baring his teeth. He circled the bed, his eyes locked onto the male changeling sitting there. When the male stood to his full height, Dorian growled and crouched, readying himself to attack.
“Stand down, juvenile,” the male commanded in a sharp tone. “You are in the presence of your alpha.”
Dorian snapped his teeth together in challenge.
The male changeling moved closer, his eyes glowing a grey-yellow. “Stand down, now.”
Dorian tilted his head back and sniffed the air, pulling the scent of the changeling into his lungs. The aroma was familiar on this tongue. He had tasted this male before.
Rick.
Rick had his claws out, and his canines were long and lethal. “Shift back into your human form, Dorian. You cannot allow your beast control or he will become the dominant force between the two of you.”
No!
He is tricking you.
Dorian shook his head, clearing the wolf’s thoughts from his mind. Rick was his mate. Rick wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. His mate would do whatever was in Dorian’s best interest.
But god, the power he felt in this form. It was like nothing Dorian had ever experienced before. There was a humming just under his skin and it was a natural rush in and of itself. He wasn’t afraid in this form. He didn’t feel like a coward in this form. He was strength, agility, and—
“Shift!” Rick shouted close to his face, their noses nearly touching. “Obey your alpha.”
“No,” Dorian rumbled the reply from a rough and raspy voice, pulling his muzzle back in defi
ance.
Rick grabbed him by the throat, the tips of his claws pressed close to his flesh. “I will not allow you to rule Dorian. He is my mate. Let him go, juvenile.”
The wolf gnashed his teeth together, but Dorian knew Rick was right. He needed to shift back to his human form. Little by little, Dorian could feel the wolf pushing him down into the darkness of his mind.
The wolf wanted to take over.
The wolf wanted to rule.
“No!” Dorian screamed and forced the wolf back, pushing him away as he struggled to shift. Gradually, Dorian felt the fur recede, along with his muzzle and claws. His body shook, and weariness took hold, making Dorian nearly collapse.
Rick caught him as Dorian’s legs gave out. “I have you, gatito. I have you.”
Chapter Eleven
“So, we’re mates?” Freedman asked as he glanced at Salvador and then Omar. The three had been standing in the room, none of them saying a word, just…standing there.
This was awkward as hell.
He scratched at his chin, wishing someone would say something.
As he glanced between Salvador and Omar, Freedman admitted to himself that being mated to these two wouldn’t be a hardship. Both men were stunningly gorgeous.
But Salvador was nearly thirteen hundred years old. Talk about a head trip. Maybe he could have moved past the whole vampire thing, but damn, the man was fucking old—although he looked anything but ancient. No, Salvador was all dark looks and bronzed skin. He was deadly, sensual, and…fuck, Freedman needed to get his head checked.
He was a United States soldier. Tough, hard-core, commanding, and one confused-ass man. Ever since he had found out nonhumans existed a few years ago, Freedman had tried to stay neutral in his opinion. However he never thought he would be mated to a changeling and a vampire.
And the vampire was an old guy.
“How do we know you are telling the truth?” Omar asked from the opposite side of the room. The man had his back to the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, and looked like he was ready to bolt at any second.
Ever since laying eyes on Omar last year, Freedman’s insides sighed every time he looked the man’s way. There was just something about the changeling that made Freedman want to wrap him up in cotton and cuddle him close at the same time. Omar was gorgeous with his light-blue eyes and silky blond hair. He reminded Freedman of someone who needed protection from the world.
And he was so willing to protect the guy. He was captivated with the small changeling. If Omar ever said yes, Freedman would be all over him in a heartbeat. He wanted to tap that ass in the worst sort of way.
“Look into my eyes,” Salvador said calmly to Omar. “Vampires can enthrall whomever they want. But they cannot enthrall their mate.” Salvador smiled, and the smile only lent to the man’s beauty. “In our case, mates.”
“Don’t you have any other way to prove you are my mate besides that?” Omar asked. “As old as you are, you could have developed a way not to snare someone in your eyes.”
“You are a stubborn male, Omar,” Salvador said. “Come to me and I will prove you are my destiny.”
“Not on your life,” Omar muttered. “I’ve been used enough.”
The look on Omar’s face made Freedman’s heart squeeze. The man had been tortured for nearly a year. There was no way he was going to trust anyone near him right now. Omar wasn’t even going to trust what anyone said. Freedman also remembered Rick telling him some detective had used Omar for sex. That thought made Freedman’s anger hit the roof. Too bad the detective was dead. Freedman would have loved to have a face-to-face “talk” with the man.
Using his gun, of course.
Freedman sat on the edge of the dresser in the bedroom, clasping his hands on his thighs. “Yes, Salvador, is there another way you can prove to us you are our mate?”
Omar’s eyes snapped over to Freedman, and Freedman was stunned to feel affection whisper between them. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. He could feel Omar’s emotions.
“Stop it!” Omar shouted, his face mottled with anger. “I have been manipulated enough. I don’t need you to give my emotions to anyone so they know how I feel.”
Freedman nearly choked on Omar’s rage. It was thick and distasteful. He wanted to scrub it off of his tongue. “Leave him alone.”
Salvador glanced over at Freedman, and he could feel the vampire pushing inside his head. Freedman was off the dresser and across the room in under a second, shoving his face into Salvador’s. “You do not have permission to be inside my head!”
“You are not biting me,” Omar added.
Salvador’s head slowly turned, his eyes blazing in red. An instinct inside of Freedman told him to back away, but he would be damned if he allowed this vampire to intimidate him. He would have to come up with something scarier than blazing red eyes to make Freedman afraid.
“I do not have to bite you. I do not have to do anything. We are mates. It is that simple.” A matter-of-fact statement with no emotions.
Freedman growled and shoved at Salvador’s chest. “Says who?”
Salvador had Freedman pinned to the wall before Freedman had a chance to blink his eyes. There was a wild growl in the man’s throat as he held Freedman in place. “It is what I say, Freedman. That is all that matters. You would do good to remember whom you are speaking to.”
“Get your damn hands off of me.” Freedman spoke through gritted teeth as he looked Salvador directly in his eyes. “I don’t give a shit who you are.”
Freedman felt that deep connection to Salvador once again—the same connection he had felt on the road when he helped Salvador feed. It was like a steel band tying them together, aligning their souls as one. But he ignored it. For all he knew, this could be some sort of vampire trick.
Salvador loosened his grip, but didn’t let Freedman go. Instead, he grabbed Freedman’s chin and closed the distance, capturing Freedman’s lips. He was so stunned that he didn’t pull away. He stood there and allowed Salvador’s tongue to explore his lips, pushing, pressing to get inside.
Freedman opened and Salvador’s tongue swept in, taking possession and making Freedman moan. The vampire reached up and slid his hand behind Freedman’s neck, pulling him closer as he took the kiss deeper. Freedman’s cock became engorged and heavy, his insides feeling as if someone had set him on fire. Salvador moved closer, pressing their chests together, his tongue tracing over Freedman’s teeth and lips.
It was the hottest kiss Freedman had ever received.
His slid his arms around Salvador’s waist and then ran his hands up the man’s back, sucking at the vampire’s tongue, tasting, exploring. The guy tasted so damn good that Freedman wanted to drown in the intoxication.
He hitched his hips, rocking his cock into Salvador’s. Freedman could feel that Salvador was just as hard as he was. The back of his head hit the wall when Salvador started kissing Freedman along his jaw, and then gradually making his way to Freedman’s neck. It felt like small fires were being lit every place the man’s lips touched.
His mind shouted for Freedman to step back and look at what he was doing. Freedman slammed the door on the protests as his hands wandered over Salvador’s back and sides, and then worked their way up to his hair. Freedman tugged at the jet-black strands, his eyes fluttering closed as Salvador nipped his neck.
Freedman’s eyes flew open and he shoved Salvador away, his hand flying to his neck. When he pulled it back, there was a small amount of blood on his fingers. “What in the hell did you think you were doing?”
“Using you,” Omar said softly.
Freedman glanced over at Omar and felt like shit for forgetting the man was in the room with them. “What?”
Omar waved a hand at his own head. “He was blurring your brain so you wouldn’t fight him.”
Freedman’s head snapped back around and then he reared his arm back and slugged Salvador in the jaw. The vampire jumped back and then the room began to darken. The ligh
ts had dimmed and a cold breeze began to blow. “You dare strike me?”
“You dare fuck with my mind?” Freedman countered. “You might be a powerful man where you come from, but you can’t go around manipulating people.” Freedman narrowed his eyes. “Especially not me.”
The furniture in the room began to vibrate as Salvador’s eyes darkened impossibly, turning into pools of black liquid. “I did nothing to your mind. What you felt, what you gave, was of your own free will.”
Freedman refused to believe he had fallen so easily into Salvador’s arms. He was a man who thought things through. He wasn’t the type to do something on impulse. “Liar.”
A chair lifted from the floor and smashed into the wall, but it wasn’t anywhere close to Freedman or Omar. The curtains began to sweep up into the air, the floor shook beneath Freedman’s feet, and the bathroom door slammed shut.
“Stop showing off,” Freedman said with a growl. “You don’t scare me.”
“He scares me,” Omar whispered.
Everything stopped at once with Omar’s confession. Salvador looked at the man with sorrowful eyes. “I did not mean to frighten you, meu destino.”
Freedman watched as Salvador crossed the room and lifted Omar’s chin with a knuckle. Omar looked terrified. “Know this. I would never harm you, pequeno guerreiro.”
Omar pulled his chin free. “I’m not a warrior. If I was, they would have never—” He curled his lips in, glancing away.
“Not even the strongest man could have stopped them from their cruelty, Omar,” Freedman said. “It wasn’t about your fighting them. You survived. That is what makes you strong.”
Omar glared at Freedman. “Tell that to my nightmares.”
Omar hadn’t meant for that to slip. He had sworn to himself that no one would know the horrors he had endured. “I need air.” Omar moved away from both men, feeling trapped. He scuttled toward the bedroom door and opened it, hurrying outside into the hallway.