Aire’Si barely registered his arm being lifted, but grew alert to Sergei’s fangs drawing along his inner wrist. The vampire sank his teeth into his skin and pulled at his dangerously limited life force. He grounded his teeth to keep from screaming, but the power of it bowed his back. White lightening erupted behind his eyelids. For one brief second he saw Rufaro-ael clearly in his vision.
“Stop Wolffey!” The dead fey buzzed with a golden light. His agitation was clear.
He jerked back into consciousness, but the image faded fast. The face he’d known since childhood was gone, but the words remained.
Sharp nails scraped against his stomach, drawing his breath. His eyes focused on Mayda. “There you are, handsome. I think you’re as fun as you’re going to be now. It will be morning soon. Can you feel it? I give you high regards for sticking with us all night.”
He drew a breath, but the energy to answer wasn’t there. She kissed the edge of his lips.
“Maybe I’ll bleed you. It’d be a much kinder fate than facing the sun,” she whispered in his ear.
“Mayda,” Bohu warned.
Mayda’s weight against his shoulder, lifted and Aire drew in forest air that still held hints of greasy popcorn and hot sugar from the night fair. The tree limbs brushed with wind, parting them enough to see the dark sky. His uncovered eye wasn’t seeing what his other senses felt, the approaching sun. He should’ve been sweating. He wasn’t. His body was too dehydrated.
The three vampires backed away as their master approached the table. Bohu’s black eyes shined with inner light as he took in the damage. “Sergei, see that my coven is at rest.”
Bohu snapped his fingers and three shadows flew over the table and disappeared into the tree coverage. They were alone.
“This is where we part ways,” Bohu said.
Unlike his creations, his fingers weren’t chilly when they brushed against Aire’s arm. The master vampire tested the cuff securing his left arm.
“This is a bad look for you, all disheveled. You look like you’ve been through hell and back, the same way you left me decades ago,” Bohu said. “Just like you, cruel with a few redeeming qualities, I’m not going to take your life. You can battle your survival out with the sun.”
“You’ve held this grudge for a long time. Kill me or I’ll come back for you.”
Bohu chuckled dismissively. “No you won’t. You’ll go to your protégé, wherever it is Lotus leaves the body, and when you feel like seeking revenge, I’ll be gone. Don’t put yourself in a cycle.”
The vampire lifted as a shadow over the trees. The world was nearly as silent as the graveyard.
His exposed skin tightened though the first rays of morning light had yet to brighten the sky. He focused on his willpower, determined to survive. He rolled off the table, but the short chain connecting his left wrist to the slab, painfully yanked his left arm out of its socket. He took a deep breath and held it for the second it took to push his arm back into the socket.
The white hot pain seized his ability to breathe. Aire dug his fingers in the dirt, forcing air into his lungs. When the pain turned into dull ebbing, he pushed his legs underneath him and stood, mindful that in his current state, he couldn’t risk being careless.
The birds stirred the branches as the sky lightened. His heart raced with desperation as he grabbed the cuff at the root of the wood and with one leg on the table, he braced himself and yanked. The wood split, but not enough for the knot at the bottom of the table to come through. He braced himself and tried it again. The wood didn’t move, but his injured shoulder jerked, making his teeth rattle painfully in his jaw.
Sunlight touched the top of the trees. The oxygen grew thinner, making it difficult to catch his breath. The Topside wildlife didn’t have the same restriction as they flinted from cover in search of food. Somewhere out there where the darkness still lingered among the thickest brush, he felt Bohu watching, but as his skin tightened with the light, the feeling was gone. He was now alone.
He rubbed his bloody arm against the cuff to make it slick, though it was immediately clear that unless he gnawed his thumb off, the cuff wouldn’t budge. The sun reached through the foliage turning the tree leaves brighter shades of green.
Despite the discomfort, he stretched as far as the cuff would allow, so he could remain in the shade. There was a way to escape, though it wasn’t clear. Bohu put a great deal of consideration into his revenge.
TWENTY-THREE
Sadie sat the coffee cup on the edge of the hall table and pulled out the small vial the gypsy gave her. She popped the top and sniffed the contents. It was sickly sweet like almond extract. The gypsy never provided instructions, so she poured the entire amount into the cup, and then pocketed the vial. She unclipped the pin on her shirt and dug the sharp tip into her thumb until blood dewed on the wound. She pressed the edge of her thumb and let gravity weigh the drops into the coffee; just a little blood like the gypsy said to add.
Morning light spilled through the single window at the end of the hall. The five bedroom doors on the floor were all shut and utterly quiet. It was a large pack, the largest in all the states. The Mission kept their thumb on population control, but it appeared the rumors were true, that Mercer had a lot of free reign.
She knocked on the alpha’s door and waited. It was so quiet, at first she thought he was sleeping, then the wood floor creaked and the door swung open. For one second, he looked hopeful, and then that smile wavered. She caught him in the middle of changing his clothes. He stood in a pair of jeans and nothing else. She wanted to reach for the thick black hair that fell over his corded shoulders.
She wished more than anything she’d been present when he fought for his spot as alpha. In that heightened sense of victory, he would’ve been more willing to bond and mate with her. Now she was reduced to trying gypsy schemes.
She thrust the coffee mug at him. “A little caffeine to keep you awake while the rogue is downstairs.”
He took the coffee and offered a small smile. “Thank you, Sadie.”
There were questions that needed to be addressed, like why the alpha would let a rogue into the house when there were children present.
“Tristen called on behalf of the Mission. They want another meeting,” she re-laid the message.
Mercer moved back into his room, leaving the door open so she took the invite to enter. His brows furrowed when he took more than a tentative sip and she expected him to comment on the taste. Instead, he sat the mug on the dresser and crossed his arms. Chiseled muscle defined the aspects of his shoulders, back and arms, down to his narrow waist. At six foot five, he looked like he could handle any challenge.
Mercer’s dark eyes studied her. She had his undivided attention, but it wasn’t due to the extra ingredients in the drink. “Did he say if they found anything more about Hota?”
“He didn’t say anything else.” She’d tried to get Tristen to tell her what was going on, but the message was to have Mercer call back. As the future female alpha of the pack, she deserved to be kept in the loop.
Mercer nodded, absently picking up the coffee and sipping it. His brows knitted and he looked at his drink. “If I wasn’t so tired, I’d dump this. To date, it’s the worst coffee Patience has bought.”
He took a bigger swallow of his drink before, taking the coffee into the bathroom with him. He closed the door and the shower curtains were pulled. A second later the water was running.
Sadie sat on the bed, marveling in the smell of the alpha’s den. It was heady, full of male testosterone and musk. Mercer was gorgeous, younger than any alphas with a pack, and full of vigor. He’d be easy to shape. Luckily for her, werewolves didn’t mature like the humans. She looked his age despite the thirty year difference.
She wanted to roll on his bed and collect his scent on her clothing so the others would know how far she’d gotten on this conquest. Instead, she pulled herself from the comfortable mattress and started towards his dresser in her search for
the key. She tossed clothes around and straighten them back out as she went, but there was nothing among the carefully folded shirts.
The dresser drawers were clean enough that on customary glance, she knew the key wasn’t there. There was nothing, no hidden diary, pills, or letters from his past. There were no pictures or mementos. There were no college yearbooks or any type of book on top of the dresser or pictures of family on the walls. The room couldn’t be cleaner. She checked under the bed and came up with the same results, nothing.
How private could one man be?
oOo
Wolffey pulled his shirt over his shoulders and started looping the buttons. Wyatt had given him two bags of fluid and an injection for the pain, which left his mind surprisingly clear; clear enough to notice that the fabric he wore was starting to collect smells. It weighed on his mind that he was in desperate need of a shower and clean clothes.
“How do you feel?” Wyatt asked.
Wolffey glanced over his shoulder at his brother scribbling notes on the clipboard and rolled his eyes. Wyatt was keeping a record. He fisted his hands to test his skin sensitivity. The skin was still numb due to the long term effects of the plants he’d taken from the healer, but under the skin, he felt that little glowing ebb where the fey talent rested. He could easily flint out.
“Better, thank you,” he answered. And beyond the faerie magic, was the strong bond of the werewolves. He felt the Alpha of Texas, Mercer. Every hair on his arm rose when he thought of the alpha upstairs.
Locked doors wouldn’t keep werewolves out and there was no true safety until his weapons were in place. He swallowed, thankful that the lingering dryness in his throat was currently relieved as he started to strap his weapons back on.
“What’s going to happen now? Will we see you again?” Wyatt asked.
Wolffey weighed the question. Wyatt wasn’t going to like the answer. There wasn’t a way to detoxify his body. “It wouldn’t be wise.”
He was grateful for Wyatt’s assistance with the new dressing, though he’d held his breath the entire time, nervous that Wyatt would infect himself with the toxin. Once he warned his brother about the venom, Wyatt went into a tenacious mode, separating the old dressing before applying new bandages.
“Mercer will want to talk with you about Chancellor,” Wyatt said. “Do you think Hota is still alive?”
He weighed the question. A man like Wyatt would want all the options. “It’s possible. It depends on why Chancellor wanted Hota for.”
Wyatt nodded, sitting the clipboard on the counter. “I’ll go find Mercer.”
His brother gave him a calculating look before moving up the staircase. That look burned into his mind. Wyatt thought there was a way to change his mind, but he was wrong.
He played the oncoming conversation with Mercer over in his head, but it always stopped with the alpha stubbornly insisting he go to Chancellor’s. This was tricky, but finding the key and going alone into the territory was the best solution. He closed his eyes and mapped the farmhouse from his memories. Mercer lived on the side they had entered into the home.
The air rippled around him. When he opened his eyes, he was staring down the empty upstairs hall. He never realized how grateful he’d be to have that ability back. Downstairs, there was a great deal of noise in the kitchen. People were laughing.
He hardly remembered the scents the hall once carried, but a few memories still lingered. He took slow steps trying to catch Mercer’s individual scent. His brothers use to live in the bedrooms in this hall, two to a room. Now Rider’s scent was the only one that lingered in the hall. He stopped where it was the strongest. The bedroom door was shut.
The walls were painted a light chestnut brown. The worn flooring was changed to a light bamboo laminate. The window was enlarged providing more light into the hallway. Pack pictures hung in frames of different sizes on the wall. Mercer had changed more than the two structures on the farm, he made the pack whole.
He followed Mercer’s scent to the bedroom that had once been Giordano’s den. He reached for the door knob and noticed the tremor in his hand. He tightened his fist. When he opened his hand, the tremor was under control. He pushed the door open and stood staring at a startled alpha female. Her scent dominated the room, but not from mating.
He’d never been in Giordano’s room, but the smell of the old alpha was gone, thanks to the overhaul. Like the rest of the house, the walls were painted; this room was pearl in color. There were two pictures that hung over the black leather headboard of the queen bed. The pictures were simple scenery.
The fluffy, chocolate comforter looked perfect like a display bed. There was nothing personal about the space. The dresser had three drawers and a mirror with shelves. There was nothing on the shelves and nothing sitting on the dresser top. The sterile atmosphere made the space appear temporary, which was strange since Mercer had won the territory nearly a decade earlier.
The female crossed the space in a matter of strides that made her high heels click loudly on the floor. “What are you doing here?”
His attention drifted from her to the closed door. The shower was running. He could smell the clean water.
She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Earth to rogue reject, what are you doing here?”
His eyes darted to her fingers before he brought his attention to her eyes. Rogue echoed in his head. He bit back the desire to respond to the name she gave him. Instead, he decided to answer her question. “I want my key.”
“I’ll bring it to you. Now get out of here.” If looks could kill, she would’ve skinned him alive.
He didn’t budge. “I need it now.”
She gritted her teeth as she grabbed him by the shoulders. Her sharp nails dug through the fabric of his clothing, pinching his skin past the top layer of numb flesh. He dug his feet in the ground and with swift ease, dislodged her hands from his body. He wasn’t built like the werewolves, though the strength was still there, tensing his muscle. He’d asked many creatures to make him fey, they had altered parts of him, but nothing made him less werewolf.
“Out,” she hissed.
He stepped around her. “Gladly, when I get my key.”
He barely made it to the dresser when the female cut him off, slamming her hand on the dresser top. “You can’t stay in here. You smell like an orange grove.”
He ignored her, altering his path from the dresser to the closet. It was surprisingly spotless. There was a single, nice pair of shoes on the floor, the pants and suit jackets were hung and there was nothing visible on the top shelf.
“You know what we do to rogues?” she insisted.
He knew exactly what the pack did with rogues. He wasn’t going to be here long enough to deal with it. “Stop talking and look for my key.”
The water shut off and metal scraped against metal as the shower curtains were pulled back. The alpha female’s eyes went wide and her nostrils flared. “You’ve overstayed your welcome!”
Caught off guard, he was shoved into the closest. The door was shut in his face, sealing him in darkness and the mixed scent of clean clothes and Mercer. No other scent lingered in the closet; it was as polished as the rest of the room and nearly as empty. He continued his search in the dark, touching the pockets of the pants hanging, still nothing.
“What did you say?” Mercer’s voice rumbled straight through the wood, exhausted but in charge.
Wolffey’s skin tingled in response to the vibration of his tone. He stopped fiddling with the clothes, surprised he held his breath to listen.
“I was talking to myself,” the alpha female answered.
Wolffey took a deep breath. It was the wrong thing to do. Mercer’s scent made him warmer. The female alpha’s scent only added to the mix of strange emotions. He immediately registered the emotion that made his spine hot and hand tighten into a fist; jealousy.
Quiet on the other side had him pressing his ear against the door. His heart was thumping. He strained for a sound
and finally it came in the squeak of the bed. Wolffey frowned, pulling back. Mercer had lied to him about his interest. He forced his muscles to relax. He was reacting to emotion; a dangerous distraction for an assassin.
What had he expected from an alpha? They were from two different worlds, and even if what Mercer said was true, about them being mates, he couldn’t act on it. He had too many enemies. The Unseelie were quiet right now, but eventually they’d come for him, with the hounds of the Wild Hunt. He couldn’t bring the werewolves into that violence.
“Wait, this isn’t right,” Mercer grunted. There was movement on the bed.
Mercer wasn’t interested. His heart soared and he immediately denied the hope that swelled in his chest. He had to let this go. For Mercer and the pack, he couldn’t get involved.
“It smells like orange blossoms,” Mercer said, his tone held a tint of suspicion. “Was Wolffey here?”
“Is that his name?” the female asked. Anger. She was definitely angry.
A shadow passed the light coming in under the door. Mercer was close to the closet. “He’s been in my room.”
“And why would you let a rogue in your room?” she demanded. “He’s dangerous. He doesn’t smell like any pack and he hates the werewolves.”
Mercer paced before stopping in front of the closet. The possibility of being caught in the alpha’s den made his stomach knot. Mercer could view his forced presence in the den as aggressive, or as an offering of submission if the alpha had his way. He had no intentions of submitting as a partner to the alpha and he had no desire to hurt the alpha in a fight.
“Were you here when he came in?” Mercer asked.
Wolffey almost felt that warm hand hovering over the door knob. If he reached out, he was sure he’d feel the alpha’s heat radiating through the metal. There was no denying that he’d been in Mercer’s room, not with the alpha’s sense of smell.
Weight pressed against the door and the undiluted smell of the female alpha filtered through the crack.. “Would you listen to yourself? You’re paranoid because of this outsider. He needs to be dealt with the way we’ve always handled rogues.”
Werewolf Forbidden Page 24