by Lexi C. Foss
2
Rowan
I followed the iron smell of blood to a shadowed alcove behind a dumpster where a vampire holds a man up against a wall. The victim’s feet were kicking a few inches off the ground as he struggled to pry away the vampire’s strong grip on his throat.
“Now, now,” I drawled as my hand drifted to my hip. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with your food?” I mentally snickered at my joke. It was cliche, but still a great line.
The vampire’s head whipped around, and he glared at me with ruby eyes, while his lips curled back in a snarl, baring his sharp, stained incisors. His gaze dropped to my hand now resting on the handle of my weapon. I had no doubt he knew what was secured in the leather sheath. When his eyes drifted back up my body, his smug expression was one I experienced constantly and used in my favor.
“Run away, tiny slayer. Before I have you for dessert.”
I snorted derisively and rolled my eyes. “Why do you morons always use lines like that? I mean for dinner, sure. Warm, salty, savory, I get it. But dessert? It’s not like my blood is suddenly sweet just because you’ve already eaten your main course. I eat a lot of chocolate, but I haven’t found a way to inject it into my bloodstream yet.”
Chocolate was a weakness for me. We had a love/hate relationship. I loved it while it was in my mouth, but hated it when I was forced to spend extra time sparring so it wouldn’t set up camp on my hips.
“Regardless, you’re welcome to try. In fact, I’ve had a rough night and would love the opportunity to kick your ass. And, since you’re obviously a grown-up, you are allowed to have dessert before your dinner.” I smiled carelessly and winked at him, messing with him for my own amusement.
The nightwalker looked a little taken aback by my attitude, but then his eyes darkened to a deep red, his expression becoming one of annoyance. He took a step in my direction, pausing when he realized that if he moved again, he’d lose his hold on his victim.
I folded my arms beneath my breasts and tapped the toe of one boot on the ground. The theme of jeopardy was playing in my head and after a long minute, I was about to start singing it. The music receded into my consciousness the moment his pupils dilated, and his mouth curved into a predatory smile, making it clear he’d come to a decision. Since I sounded like a cat being strangled when I sang—Emerald’s description, not mine—he could count himself lucky.
With inhuman speed, the vampire released the nearly asphyxiated man, letting him slide down to the ground in a heap, gasping and groaning. Now that I had the vamp’s full attention, the other man could get away once he’d recovered.
“What is your name, little one?” he asked silkily. Waves of compulsion radiated toward me. They were not visible, but I felt them nudging the protective spell I kept wrapped around me when I was on the hunt. It was one of the few spells I used consistently. But he didn’t have to know that, did he?
I visibly softened and whispered in a sweet, breathless tone, “Rowan. What’s yours?”
His mouth tightened, but pure glee danced in his eyes. Building up his confidence was key. Making him think he’d won before we even played the game.
“Chance,” he answered in a soothing tone that made my skin crawl when I thought about all the guileless people he’d lured to their death with it. Vampires were innately predators. They could draw people in with their smell, their voice, everything about them was appealing to humans and some supernatural beings. And once the vampire dropped the act and became the monster that he was, the utter horror of knowing they were about to die by the teeth of that creature was the last thing they’d ever feel.
The rage I felt on behalf of those people was like gasoline thrown on the fiery desire to rid the world of these evil tyrants. Over the years, I’d managed to channel that fire into my fighting while remaining calm and not making stupid decisions. Achieving that kind of control over myself elsewhere in my life was still a work in progress. It didn’t help that my magic was rattling the bars to its cage, wanting me to let it out to take care of this sicko. Lately, it had been a little more obnoxious than usual.
Chance slowly advanced toward me and I held my ground, allowing him to get close. He towered over me—although at five-feet-nothing, most people did—and it made him overconfident, letting down his guard. I waited patiently, fluttering my eyelashes and pasting a lovesick expression on my face.
One of the first things my father taught me was to use my size as a weapon. All the fighting skills in the world wouldn’t stop someone twice your size from overpowering you unless you specifically learned how to deal with someone bigger and stronger than you.
The key was intelligence. My new students scoffed at that lesson every time. I explained that anyone who claimed that winning a fight could be done with brute force alone was either a complete idiot or in denial. Then I’d prove it, class after class. It had kept me alive in all the years I’d been slaying vampires.
If you wanted to win against someone more powerful than you, the strategy I’d developed from years of training was to overload the opponent’s brain with several movements in different directions while simultaneously blocking their blows with whichever arm wasn’t striking. I had to continuously break their focus so they couldn’t react.
Scenarios raced through my mind as I waited for vampy to come in close and make the first move. I didn’t allow myself the luxury of smiling at his gullibility until his right arm shot forward, going for my throat. Using my left arm to protect myself, I didn’t just smack or push his hand out of the way—I made a fist and slammed it into his wrist, then caught it with my left hand, causing him to twist and become unsteady on his feet. My opposite fist flew up to deliver a blow to his larynx, and he tried to fold his body forward as he gagged. I’d released his wrist and his hands had flown up to his neck in defense, leaving both of my arms free. When he doubled over, it lowered his head enough for me to smack his temple with the heel of my left hand, while grabbing his neck with the other and sharply yanking it down as I slammed my knee into his ribs.
I would enjoy the satisfying crunch of broken bones and his gurgled, yet girly, scream later when my mind wasn’t focused on my next move to take this creep down.
While he was bent over, gasping for air, I pulled his head back with the hand on his neck and curled my left arm around his throat, forcing him to twist around so I was behind him with his back arched. His knees were bent and weak, so I didn’t have to struggle with his height. So, if I didn’t continue to move with speed, his weight would become a problem.
I tightened the arm around his neck, ignoring his feeble attempts to loosen my hold. I winced at the feeling of his nails breaking my skin, but kept my focus on Chance. I yanked him back and he came down hard just as my knee shot up to ram into his spine. Then I lowered my leg just enough to kick out and shove my foot right behind his knee.
With my grip on his neck and his legs giving out, I took him to the ground. Before he knew what hit him, I was kneeling with one knee on his chest and the other pressing into his neck. His eyes were glued to my arm, which was drawn back, my hand gripping the silk rope that twisted around the handle of my stake. And because I had a flair for the dramatic, a plain stake was too boring, so the bottom also twisted, ending in a wicked sharp point.
I grinned at Chance and chirped, “Priyatnovo appetita.”
After a beat, I cocked my head to the side in a thoughtful gesture. “I guess I should have said bon appétit as they do here in the States, which is weird since it’s French.” I shrugged, then my arm whipped forward with the force of a major league pitcher throwing a ninety-five mile an hour fastball. As soon as it was lodged securely in his black heart, I hopped to my feet and got out of the way.
A sharp pop filled the air before the body on the ground combusted into orange flames, burning faster than a lit match until a pile of ash was all that remained. My stake fell down into the soot with a puff that then drifted away on the wind.
My adre
naline was disappearing as fast as the vampire’s remains while I trudged over to retrieve my stake. At least I’d worked out some of the anger and frustration from earlier in the night and rid the city of another Dracula wannabe. With any luck, it would be enough to stop the constant whirring of my brain that often kept me from sleep.
3
Jax
“Jax!”
Sighing, I tossed a sheet over the dark mahogany chest I’d been carving before I heard my teenage sister, Jocelyn, running toward my workshop. Even without my enhanced hearing—due to the fact that I turned into a wolf quite frequently—I would have heard her from a mile away. It was no wonder hardly anyone liked to take Jocelyn out on a hunt; she was about as quiet as a bull in a china shop.
“Jax!”
“No need to shout, Joss,” I muttered as I stood from the bench I’d been sitting on while working and walked toward her, meeting her in the center of the room. My wolf perked up, happy to see my sister. Our wolves acted as much like siblings as we did. “You’re hurting my wolf’s ears.”
Joss rolled her eyes and laughed with a full-hearted sound that never failed to put a smile on my face.
“Sorry,” she whispered when she calmed, though her brown eyes still sparkled with humor. “Mom sent me.” Her tone had turned sly and she bit her lip to fight a grin, but failed and ended up with her mouth stretched wide across her pretty face.
I groaned and crossed my arms over my chest and I leaned a hip on the table full of tools next to me. “No,” I grunted when she opened her mouth again. My wolf couldn’t understand her words, but he seemed well aware of what was irritating me and he growled, not liking the idea of other women any more than I did.
“But— “
“No.”
Joss pouted and looked at me with sad eyes that almost—almost—had me giving in. “I really like this one,” she insisted as she tossed a long, curly lock of brown hair over her shoulder and batted her eyelashes.
“I’m not coming to family dinner until Mom stops throwing single women at me in her crusade for grandchildren.”
“Don’t you want, like, a whole houseful of pups?”
I shrugged my shoulders dismissively, opting not to get into a discussion with my baby sister about my plans for a mate and pups. Especially since I wasn’t planning to ever mate. I wasn’t going to put myself in a vulnerable position like that ever again.
My wolf wasn’t happy around other females who showed interest in me beyond one night. If we weren’t both happy with my choice of mate, we’d be living at odds and no shifter ever survived that for long. Our minds would begin to deteriorate and eventually I’ would permanently shift. If my wolf was out of control, as was usually the case, we would be a danger to everyone around us and have to be put down. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take for any woman.
My sister put her hands on her small hips and cocked one out, looking every bit the teenager full of attitude. “It’s been two years since things ended with Camilla, Jax.”
My wolf snarled at her name, and I assured him I had no intention of having anything to do with her as Joss asked, “When are you going to get over her?”
I raised my left eyebrow a fraction and stared at her with flat, unspeaking eyes. The truth was, I was already over my ex. I simply preferred not to talk about it because it made me feel like a fucking idiot for having been so damn blind.
Her skin flushed as her hands fell to her sides, a sheepish expression stealing over her face. “Sorry.”
I wasn’t one to stay angry or hold a grudge—except with Camilla. That took more time to get over.
Jocelyn’s apology cleared the air between us. Pushing away from the worktable, I grabbed her arms and hauled her up into a big bear—or big wolf—hug. “It’s all good, Jelly Bean.”
Joss giggled at the nickname I’d given her after seeing an ultrasound of her when our mom was a few weeks pregnant.
“Does this mean you’ll come to dinner tomorrow?” she asked hopefully as she squeezed her arms around my broad shoulders.
I laughed and smacked a kiss on her cheek before setting her on her feet and releasing her. “Not a chance, Jelly Bean. I have to leave for the city early tomorrow morning for a delivery.”
My pack dwelled in the small town of Silver Lake, New York, and the surrounding, undeveloped land. We were only about four hours from Manhattan, but hauling a trailer loaded with the specialty furniture that I produced slowed me down. I enjoyed the quiet drives, though I sometimes took one of my siblings along after they’d worn me down with their begging.
This trip wasn’t a big delivery, though, just a small favor for a friend before enjoying a couple of nights in the city to blow off steam.
The package was a replacement for a chess set I’d carved for him several months ago. The first one had up and disappeared one day without even a speck of evidence of how it happened.
Nathan had been mad as hell, but I’d told him it was no problem to make another one. It mollified him somewhat, although he beefed up security throughout the building. It certainly came in handy that he owned a security firm.
Delivering a chess set to Nathan in the city wasn’t necessary, considering he lived on pack land and only spent a few hours a week in New York. Lately, my wolf and I had both been feeling the need to relieve some stress, though I wasn’t sure exactly what was causing us to be so tense. I’d been letting him out for a run at least once a day, but it wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.
I’d noticed how on edge Nathan was with pack issues and his new position, so I suggested we go out for a night. Possibly get drunk, and maybe even wake up next to a hot mistake. Seeing as how his life was a general pain in the ass at the moment, he readily agreed.
When I mentioned the trip to my best friend, Asher, a couple of days ago, he jumped at the chance for a night out. Unfortunately, Nathan had council business come up at the last minute. Asher suggested we stay and make a weekend out of it since he kept an apartment in the city where we could stay. We assured Nathan that we were more than happy to volunteer for a second night of debauchery.
It wasn’t unusual for us to do trips like this during a full moon, although it had been a while due to one thing or another. Wolf shifters were sensual creatures by nature and during a full moon, that need was heightened to a boiling point. They were whipped into a sexual frenzy that, if sated on pack land, could result in a very awkward morning after and last for who knew how long. In addition, mates who were not fully claimed were always hard to be around, but during a full moon…the pheromones that came off them in waves were suffocating.
I’d already been looking forward to the trip, but now it had the added benefit of giving me a reason to duck out on dinner at my parents’ house where I’d be forced to make small talk with another female who had zero chance of becoming my mate.
“Can I come with?” Joss pleaded, grasping her hands together as though she was about to pray.
I narrowed my eyes and rocked back onto my heels as I stuck my thumbs into the pockets of my worn, blue jeans. “I thought you said you liked this one?”
Joss cringed and threw her hands dramatically in the air. “Mom made me say it, okay?”
I shook my head disapprovingly and grunted, “Et tu, Joss?”
She had the good sense to look chagrined. “I know. I know.”
She began to turn around, her shoulders sagging and her head hanging in utter despair. My sister was a complete diva, but she was also adorable and had a heart the size of the state of New York.
“Jelly Bean, I’d take you with me if I could. But I’m meeting Nathan at the Shifter Council Headquarters to make my delivery before Asher and I are going out for a drink.” I didn’t add that I’d be staying a second night so Nathan could join us, especially since my sister had a crush on our alpha. I didn’t want to be subjected to her puppy dog eyes and tears when I wouldn’t give in to her begging or whatever other manipulative tactics she’d employ. The little imp knew all
of my soft spots when it came to her and didn’t hesitate to exploit them.
There was also the fact that Nathan’s best friend, Dimitri, was former Russian vampire royalty and a scary motherfucker. The uprising that had ousted him as king one hundred years ago had made him bitter and dangerous. Nathan had mentioned the plans brewing over there and I never knew when he might be at the HQ to meet with Nathan. The last thing I needed was for Joss to develop a crush on the “bad boy.” I’d never hear the end of it and neither Dimitri, nor his ruthless cousin, Cassius, were the kind of men I wanted around my sister.
Jocelyn whipped back around with a big smile on her face and when she went to speak, I held up my hand. “Last I checked, baby sis, fifteen isn’t old enough to drink. Even if Dad does slip you a beer during a game when Mom’s not looking.”
My sister was the ultimate girly-girl until it came to football. Then she transformed into “one of the guys.” She and my dad would sit in front of the television and complain to each other in between shouting at the refs, the players, the coach…I’d even heard my dad cursing out the water boy.
“Fiiiiiiine.” Joss dragged the word out on a long-suffering sigh.
I slipped an arm over her shoulder and began to walk her to the door. “Next time, tell Mom to do her own dirty work,” I informed her. I kissed her temple and gave her a little push out the door into the sunshine. “Come over in the morning if you want. We’ll go for a run before I have to pack up and head out. And maybe I’ll bring you something from Dylan’s Candy Bar.”
“Yes!” she shouted with a pump of her fist. “I’ll never betray you again, bro.”
“Because I’m awesome,” I teased.
She did that weird dance move thing, flinging her arms out to the side…I was pretty sure I’d heard her call it a dab. Whatever the hell that was. Then she blew me a kiss and raced down the road that led to the edge of my property. I watched for a minute, then shook my head and smiled.