by L. L. Raand
Becca stepped over the splintered remnants of the threshold and into the hallway. Sophia paced up and down not far away, rubbing her arms as if she were cold, but the infirmary was warm. She looked up as Becca drew near, her elegant features hollowed with worry.
“How are they?” Sophia asked.
“Everyone’s still alive.” Becca noticed the door to the treatment room was still closed as they walked together toward the front doors. “Marissa?”
“Elena is with her. She’s sleeping. She needs it.”
Becca laughed wryly. “I can imagine. Lara is…” She shook her head, imagining what it would be like to feed Lara repeatedly in her wild, seemingly insatiable state. Watching Lara careen unpredictably from dangerous predator to helpless victim of her own voracious needs had filled Becca with pity. Witnessing her feast on Max had triggered fear and fascination. She could easily understand how hosting for Lara could be addicting. “How long was Marissa with her?”
“Almost a day.”
“I’m amazed she survived.”
“It’s not Lara’s fault,” Sophia said quietly.
“Of course it isn’t.” Becca stopped walking and grasped Sophia’s arm. “Is that what you think? That I find Lara revolting or repulsive? You think I want her to be punished somehow?”
Sophia sighed. “You haven’t seen us at our best today, I’m afraid. I don’t know what you must think after witnessing that chaos in the hall.” She lifted her hands and let them fall, her expression weary. “First Lara nearly attacking us, then Dasha and Niki fighting over…”
“They were fighting over you, weren’t they?” Becca asked. “I was reading that right, wasn’t I?”
Sophia pushed her hair out of her face. Her hands trembled. Shadows circled her eyes, making the deep blue surface impenetrable as the surface of a mountain lake cut from bedrock. “Yes, they were. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t even say yes to Dasha.”
“Do you have to? I mean, I gathered some of it was involuntary.”
Sophia smiled. “The attraction part can be rapid and unexpected, especially now with the Alpha…” She caught her breath and smiled again, shaking her head as if to chastise herself. “Everyone is a little agitated, and that often leads to aggression, especially for the more dominant Weres.”
“Like Niki and Dasha.”
“Yes.”
“Aggression and sex go hand in hand sometimes. Not necessarily in a bad way,” Becca mused. “Make-up sex is probably a classic example, not that I have all that much experience with it.”
“Make-up sex.” Sophia smiled faintly. “After a fight you want to be closer, to reconnect, to touch again.”
“Yes, sometimes. Maybe more often than we’d like to admit.” Becca thought about the kiss she’d initiated. She had not walked into that room planning to kiss a Vampire. She’d gone after Jody because she’d been afraid for her. She’d never once been afraid of her, even when Jody had been close to killing Lara. And she had no doubt that Jody would have killed Lara if she’d thought that was the only way to keep everyone else safe. Jody would have suffered, but she would have done it. No, she hadn’t been afraid of her, but she’d been afraid for her.
When they’d first met, she’d been equally seduced and repelled by Jody’s effortless charm. She’d hated knowing how easily she could fall prey, literally, to the Vampire thrall. She’d kept her distance, kept her walls up, and resisted seeing Jody as anything other than a sexual predator. The last few days had changed her mind. Her barriers had begun to crumble long before she’d seen that stake sticking out of Jody’s back, even before she’d seen Jody almost bleed out, saving Lara’s life. Jody had gone out of her way to protect her from being unwittingly enthralled by a Vampire pair at Nocturne, and even when Jody was being annoyingly domineering, she was trying to guard her. Jody risked her life over and over protecting others, and what was really scary, even more than seeing her bleed, was knowing how little Jody cared that she might die.
She’d kissed Jody because she’d wanted Jody to know someone cared if she lived or died. That she cared. Oh boy. She did not want to go there for very long. “Sometimes we want sex to remind ourselves we’re still alive, that we’re safe. And that those we…care about are safe.”
“Yes,” Sophia said, “when we tangle, we connect with each other and to Pack.”
“What happens to a living Vampire when they die?” Becca asked. Right at that moment, she really needed to know. Maybe then she could put the nagging worries about Jody to rest.
Sophia frowned. “They rise. I don’t know exactly how long it takes. They don’t discuss the process.”
“One hundred percent of the time?”
“I assume so, but I really don’t know. Maybe the Alpha does.”
“God,” Becca whispered, suddenly making sense of the hurried conversation in the foyer of Jody’s town house the night Jody had revived Lara. Sylvan had asked Jody if she was blood-bonded, and Jody hadn’t answered. Then Sylvan told Niki that Jody wouldn’t rise without a blood bond. Jody could die. Really die. “How can you keep so many secrets?”
“Sometimes secrets keep us safe,” Sophia said quietly, almost as if she didn’t mean for Becca to hear.
“And sometimes they can kill us.”
“Yes.” Sophia grasped the handle on the heavy front door. “Dasha is waiting outside to take you to the Alpha. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Becca said, wishing she were with Jody. What would she do if she were back in that room right now? Would she find some place on that bed with Max and Lara and Jody? Would she want to be part of what she had watched them share? The idea of being so vulnerable, so exposed, was terrifying enough. Sharing something so intimate with anyone other than her lover might be more than she could handle. “Can you see that someone replaces that door before morning? I should take care of what I came here for.”
Jody lay on her back in the swiftly darkening room, Lara draped over her and Max asleep beside them, his arm thrown over them both. Lara murmured fretfully, drew her thigh over Jody’s, and slid her hand down Jody’s belly and between her legs. Jody grasped Lara’s wrist and moved her hand away. Max and Lara would rouse in a few hours, and then she would take Lara home.
She listened to Becca’s footsteps disappear down the hall, and her insides ached. Becca’s taste still lingered in her mouth. Beneath the sharp copper tang of Max’s blood, Becca’s honeyed kisses soothed her. She’d climaxed the instant the potent Were blood had rushed through her body, but so close after Becca had kissed her, she’d only been aware of Becca as she’d fed. Of her taste and her scent and her heat. So easy to imagine Max’s arm had been Becca’s throat beneath her mouth, the blood filling her Becca’s blood. Her clitoris pulsed now, enlivened by the Were’s blood. If Becca was here she could make love to her, and she might even be able to come without feeding again. The aftereffects of the fresh infusion of blood wouldn’t sustain her sexual ability for long, not that it mattered.
Becca wasn’t here, and she was just as glad. Even if Becca had been willing, she couldn’t offer her even the simplest of intimacies—not without endangering her. She couldn’t hold her or kiss her or make love to her without biting her. Even now, fully fed and satisfied, she hungered for her. Bloodlust rose like a malevolent storm, sweeping through her until all she knew was pain. Pain and the taste of Becca in her mouth.
Becca had originally thought the broad expanse of the Compound was the heart of Were territory, but as she followed Dasha across the wide porch and into the central building, she realized she’d reached the inner sanctum. A huge double-sided stone fireplace jutted up from the center of the first floor into the open rafters three stories above. Stone was probably the wrong word. Boulders more accurately described what formed the hearth. Clearly, the rough gray monoliths, some taller than her, had been chiseled from the surrounding mountains. The floors were slabs of wood, each easily a foot and a half wide, carved from ancient trees. The walls were logs, preci
sely hewn and joined. She doubted a single nail was used anywhere in the construction of the massive building. Despite its size and sweeping floor plan, the headquarters did not appear cold or impersonal. Thick rugs defined multiple seating areas, and the wood-and-leather furniture appeared well used. She wished for a chance to pull her camera out and grab a few snapshots, but Dasha moved quickly down a broad hallway and deeper into the building.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dasha stopped in front of two carved wooden doors easily twelve feet tall. The broad wrought iron handles were shaped like enormous claws as long and thick as Becca’s forearms.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Becca asked, as if she couldn’t think of about a million reasons. Starting with the fact she’d just witnessed things no human had probably ever seen before, and the Weres would likely want to keep it that way.
“Sometimes putting yourself in the middle of someone else’s fight can be deadly.”
Becca grimaced. “I think I’m already in this one. Someone certainly wants me to be.” She smiled at Dasha, whose eyes had returned to their warm Mediterranean blue. Her face was still subtly different, though; cleaner, longer, more starkly beautiful if that were even possible. “But thanks. I appreciate your concern.”
“You’re welcome.” Dasha rapped sharply on the door. From inside, Sylvan’s voice rolled toward them, and the door vibrated.
“Come.”
“How does she know who it is?”
“She knows.” Dasha pulled up on the handle and pushed the doors open with her shoulder. Then she stepped aside and allowed Becca to precede her.
This room was every bit as impressive as the rest of the building. Another gigantic fireplace, multiple oversized leather sofas and chairs. A huge desk against one wall, tall French doors opened into the night. Equally tall windows, also open. Becca shivered as a chill wind cut across the room. Sylvan stood with her back to the glowing fireplace, barefoot in blue jeans and a dark T-shirt. Drake was next to her, similarly dressed, an arm slung around Sylvan’s waist. The sofas and chairs and wall space were occupied by almost a dozen Weres, most of whom she’d never seen before. Fortunately, even when slightly intimidated—okay, maybe a lot intimidated—she’d learned not to show it. Hiding her emotions had gotten her through childhood with a minimum of criticism and had proven advantageous during difficult interviews.
This was definitely going to qualify as a difficult interview.
“I understand you wanted to see me,” Sylvan said. “If you came all the way out here, I assume it’s important.”
“It is, Alpha.” Becca stepped deeper into the room until she stood just in front of the sofa where the two blond Weres she had seen earlier each occupied one end, their sprawling limbs nearly touching. She kept her gaze on Sylvan. “I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice.”
Sylvan nodded. She was even more imposing in the jeans and T-shirt she wore like a second skin than she was in the tailored suits she wore when she appeared on television, and she was damn impressive then. Sylvan’s power filled the room, and you didn’t have to be a Were to feel it. Becca drew a breath.
“I have a message for you from the Viceregal and one from an anonymous caller.” Becca tilted her chin up. “And I have a few questions.”
Sylvan’s mouth flickered. Becca didn’t think it was a smile. “Let’s start with the critical issue. Callan says you mentioned missing females.”
“Yes. I received a call from an unidentified male—species unidentified—late this afternoon. He claims female Weres are being held captive somewhere—”
The room erupted in a thunder of growls and snarls, so vicious and so loud Becca’s skin broke out in goose bumps and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She’d never really thought that was possible. She flinched but managed to suppress the trembling in her arms and legs.
She half expected Sylvan to shout down the unruly Weres, but Sylvan never raised her voice.
“Easy, my wolves.” Sylvan’s low, calm tones cut through the chaos. “We’ll find them. This I promise.”
The violent snarls and the growls diminished to a low, anxious grumbling and finally stilled. Becca felt soothed inside, as if a gentle hand had brushed over her consciousness. She narrowed her eyes and regarded Sylvan intently. “I felt that.”
Sylvan smiled. “You seem to be quite sensitive. Most humans would not.”
“I’m hearing that a lot,” Becca muttered. “Is it true? Have some of your females disappeared?”
Sylvan’s expression never changed, and she did not answer.
Becca blew out a breath. “Look. You can try to stonewall me as much as you want, but someone wants me to know these things. I’m like a damn clearing station for hot tips. The problem is, I can’t make very much out of them without more information. If you’re not going to help me, I’m going to start asking around until I find someone who will.” Time to play her best cards. “My first call tomorrow morning is going to be to the national offices of HUFSI, because they certainly have an agenda, and they’re no friend of the Weres. My second call will be to Senator Weston.”
Drake spoke up. “That might not be wise. All those inquiries will do is call attention to the situation.”
“Yes, I imagine they will.” Becca lifted her shoulder. “No one is leaving me any choice but to shake the trees and see what falls out.”
“This is Were business,” Sylvan said and the softness had left her voice. “No concern of yours.”
“Wrong. It became my concern the first time someone called me, and every day it’s more of my concern. Do you really think I’m going to stand by and pretend I didn’t see someone try to kill you? Or ignore the fact that young girls are dying from something that might be Were fever? And now there’s a rumor Weres are being tortured? I don’t think so.” Becca tried to keep the challenge out of her voice, because she didn’t want to confuse the issue. She didn’t for a second think the Alpha could be bullied. But she had to prove she couldn’t be either. “So either you let me in or I’m going to start knocking on doors, and you’ll have a lot more people asking you questions.”
The two young blonds on the sofa in front of her sat up quickly, rumbling in the back of their throats, and heat streaked over her skin. The next thing she knew, Sylvan was next to her.
“Damn it. You’re almost as fast as Jody.”
“Comparing a Were to a Vampire is probably not wise,” Sylvan murmured.
“And why should I start doing anything that’s smart?” Becca met Sylvan’s eyes and then remembered that was not a smart thing to do either. She held Sylvan’s gaze for just a second, and then looked to the side, but not down. Damn it, she was not going to cower in front of anyone, even one of the most powerful Weres in the world.
“What is it that you want, Ms. Land?” Sylvan asked.
“I want to share information with you. I’m good at what I do. I’m not a detective, but I’m a damn good investigator. And I know people.” She let her gaze swing back to Sylvan’s, and nearly lost herself in the deep, penetrating blue of her eyes. God, she was gorgeous.
“Careful,” Drake murmured, sliding in beside Sylvan and casually gripping the back of her neck.
Becca jerked. “My apologies, Alpha.”
“No need,” Sylvan murmured, brushing her fingers over Drake’s cheek. “Associating with us could be dangerous.”
“I know. But I trust you to keep my skinny human ass out of the fire.”
Someone in the room laughed.
“I’d like to keep these events out of the public eye,” Sylvan said. “Do you agree not to report them?”
“I agree not to report an incomplete story, as long as you let me work with you.”
Sylvan sighed. “I will assign a Were liaison who will report directly to me. Any information you uncover will be relayed either to her or me. She will also see that your…ah…butt stays in one piece.”
Becca smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Now for the tricky p
art. “I met with the Viceregal this morning. She suggested there were those in the Coalition who didn’t agree with your position.”
“Politicians rarely agree,” Sylvan said with a thin smile. “Even Praeterns.”
“I gathered it might be more than just philosophical disagreements. She hinted you might be in danger from someone within.” Becca tensed in preparation for the uproar of aggression she expected, but the room remained quiet save for a few low, ominous rumbles.
“Names?”
Becca shook her head. “I’m sorry, no. She also told me to tell you to remember the days when Weres and Vampires hunted together. What did she mean by that?”
“The Praeterns were not always in the minority, and we did not always hide,” Sylvan said softly.
“That might be a bit of information you want to keep to yourself,” Becca said, suppressing a shiver.
“Yes. I agree.” Sylvan looked to the blonds, who quivered at attention on the sofa. “Gather the rest of the centuri. It seems we will be visiting the city tonight.”
“I’m coming with you,” Becca said. When Sylvan’s brows rose, she hurriedly said, “A deal is a deal.”
“I can understand why the Vampire finds you a challenge.”
Becca felt her face flush, and damn it, her heart started racing. Probably every Were in the room could tell. “If you mean she finds me a pain in the ass, you’re right.”
Sylvan smiled. “Probably that too.”
Chapter Seventeen
Becca hadn’t thought the tension in the room could get any higher, but that was before every Were suddenly came to alert and fixed on the hall doors. The low rumbles and growls escalated, and she didn’t need a translator to tell her something had made the Weres very unhappy. Someone or something was coming, and they weren’t going to get a welcome reception.
“Jace, Jonathan,” Sylvan said quietly, and the two gorgeous blonds jumped up from the sofa and flanked Becca. Drake sidled almost imperceptibly in front of Sylvan, her body between Sylvan and the door. Dasha loped from her post against the wall and took a position on Sylvan’s far side.