by L. L. Raand
Lara’s ass pistoned with such speed Becca could only catch glimpses of Tricia’s pale thighs wrapped around Lara’s golden buttocks. A growl burst from Lara’s throat. Her head reared back, her eyes amber, slashed through with red, above her carved cheekbones and partially shifted jaw. Part Were, part Vampire, she was fiercely and terrifyingly beautiful.
“Oh please,” Tricia keened.
Lara roared and struck.
Tricia cried out, an agony of ecstasy, as Lara buried herself in her neck. Lara’s hips thrust rhythmically, a hard, steady cadence timed to her swallows, and Tricia’s body convulsed in endless orgasm.
The intimacy was raw and powerful, but Becca experienced none of the erotic compulsion she’d felt when watching Jody feed from Tricia. That night, this night, Jody held her enthralled, not by her predator’s power, but by her effortless strength and piercing vulnerability—by no other act than being who she was. Becca looked from Tricia’s dazed face into Jody’s, and her breath caught. Beyond the hunger that always burned in them, Jody’s eyes were filled with longing.
“Jody,” she whispered and Jody’s lips parted. Her incisors were completely unsheathed. Blood streamed down Tricia’s neck onto her chest as Lara fed, the thick red ribbon inches from Jody’s mouth. Jody had to be close to bloodlust, and Becca couldn’t bear for her to be in need. She rose from her chair.
“No,” Jody gasped. “Too dangerous.”
Danger from who? Jody? Lara? What did it matter? She couldn’t help either of them. Becca sank back into her chair. She’d never been more helpless in her life.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Do not stray.” Michel opened a steel vault door and led Drake and Sylvan down a narrow flight of stairs into a long dim hallway.
Drake checked out the empty passageway. Where were the guards? The attendants? The Viceregal either was very secure in her power or she had an army sequestered somewhere in this underground labyrinth. Drake suspected both things were true. Their footsteps made no sound on the marble floor, and no sign of life emanated from behind the line of closed doors they passed. The air was thick with the scent of blood and lust. Perhaps those rooms were bedrooms where hosts could recover. Drake’s wolf, unhappy descending into the lair of another predator, growled and clawed at her in warning. Sylvan was too exposed here, surrounded by potential enemies.
We should have brought the centuri.
Sylvan rubbed Drake’s back. Don’t worry, mate. I would not risk you.
Drake wasn’t worried about herself but had no time to argue. Michel knocked on a heavy, carved wooden door, opened it, and led them into a sumptuous parlor occupied by only one individual. Drake still didn’t see any guards, but the Vampire standing by the fireplace was exactly as she had imagined—only she had underestimated the Viceregal’s exquisiteness. The Viceregal had all the timeless beauty Drake associated with Vampires: the ethereal countenance, the elegant carriage, the brilliant, piercing eyes, perfect skin, lush features, and shimmering aura of sensuality. The Viceregal was a creature of dreams—glorious scarlet tresses falling in sinuous curves over milk-white shoulders, a long, slender neck without a single blemish, sapphire eyes, ruby lips. Beneath the sheer, silvery gown, full breasts, a narrow waist, and flaring hips invited fantasy. Drake’s skin tingled, and languorous warmth spread through her blood. An erotic invitation teased along her nerves, and her clitoris pulsed. A faint pressure built behind her eyes. She rumbled low in her chest. Mind probe. Subtle and disturbingly enticing.
Beside her, Sylvan snarled. “Viceregal. You insult the Timberwolf Pack.”
“Alpha,” the Viceregal said with a smile lifting the corner of her mouth. Her gaze lingered on Drake, glittering with amusement. “Forgive me. She’s quite commanding. I’m afraid I was carried away.”
Drake remembered what Sylvan had said. Francesca was a chess player. All Vampires loved games, most especially games of the mind. Their mind control was the true seat of their power, even more than the lust and pleasure they were able to induce in their prey. It would not do for the Viceregal to think she was easily influenced or nonplussed. “I’ve looked forward to meeting you, Viceregal. Sylvan speaks highly of you.”
Francesca’s brows flickered and she chuckled. “Does she?”
Drake intentionally took her time clasping the back of Sylvan’s neck. The Viceregal would know protocol dictated no one touched the Alpha in public. No one except her mate. She stroked Sylvan’s throat, letting her fingertips play over the wild pulse. “Yes, she does.”
“Francesca,” Sylvan said, “allow me to introduce my mate, Drake.”
“Yes, Michel informed me of the happy news.” Francesca’s gaze followed Drake’s fingers moving on Sylvan’s throat, her midnight irises shimmering with tongues of fire. “I should chide you, Alpha, for not telling me instantly. We would have honored the occasion in the appropriate fashion. We mustn’t forget the old ways.”
“No, we mustn’t.” Sylvan leaned her hip against Drake’s. “I appreciate you seeing us on such short notice. I understood you had a message for me. I also was hoping you might be able to help me with some information.”
Francesca swept across the room to the divan and settled into one corner, extending her arm toward Michel. “Come join me, darling.” She indicated the matching divan opposite her. “Make yourself comfortable, Sylvan. Drake. Would you care for tea?”
“No, I’m afraid we’re short for time.” Sylvan sat, and Drake joined her. “Forgive my rudeness.”
“Darling, I can forgive you almost anything.” Francesca laughed and played her fingers through Michel’s hair. “I can’t imagine how I could help you, but you know we are always friends of the Timberwolf Pack, even when others doubt you.”
Sylvan tensed, and Drake curled her fingers around the inside of Sylvan’s leg. The banded muscles beneath her palm relaxed. Sylvan’s breathing quieted.
“I received a message from Becca Land, the reporter you spoke with earlier today,” Sylvan said.
“Yes, the human. She’s quite delightful. I do hope we see her again soon.”
Drake was certain the Viceregal knew that Becca was currently in the club. There couldn’t be much in the Viceregal’s territory that she didn’t know.
“We’re trying to keep this quiet until we have a chance to investigate,” Sylvan went on, “but several nights ago, someone tried to assassinate me. At least, we believe I was the target. There’s a chance it was Jody Gates, the Councilor’s daughter.”
Francesca’s expression darkened. Michel’s lids lowered lazily, and she kissed Francesca’s bare shoulder. “I can’t believe anyone would try to kill you, Sylvan. What a foolish thing to do. That would completely destabilize the Coalition. And we certainly would not want that.”
“Certainly not,” Sylvan said dryly. “There are, of course, factions both Praetern and human who would like to see the Coalition’s mission in Washington fail.”
“Well yes, of course.” Francesca sighed. “But I’m afraid those radicals and zealots will always be with us. Now that your father’s Exodus has exposed us to the world, violent opposition will become part of our existence.”
The muscles in Sylvan’s leg jumped under Drake’s fingers, and Sylvan’s power rose. Drake’s blood quickened. Her sex pulsed, and her wolf resumed pacing. She leaned forward, still slowly stroking Sylvan’s thigh. “The Coalition presents a uniform Praetern power to the world. Its stability is critical to deterring organized resistance to Praetern independence. I would imagine that’s what Sylvan’s father had in mind when he proposed the Coalition.”
Francesca’s gaze drifted over Drake’s face. “How is it that I don’t know you, Drake? I’ve seen all of Sylvan’s wolves over the years. I would not have forgotten you.”
Beside her, Sylvan growled. Drake held Francesca’s gaze.
“I am Sylvan’s mate, Prima to the Timberwolf Pack. Who I was before is no longer important.”
“Well said, Prima.” Francesca’s hand drif
ted over Michel’s shoulder and down her chest, lingering on her breast before trailing lower and settling between her legs. Michel’s face showed no response, but her breathing visibly increased.
A whisper of warm breath caressed Drake’s neck, stroking down her throat to her breasts, as if moist lips were feathering over her skin. The caress played along her spine and settled low in her belly, stirring her sex. Thrall. She breathed in Sylvan’s scent, pressed her fingers harder against Sylvan’s thigh, absorbing her heat. She centered herself, grounded herself in her mate, and the probing tendrils disappeared.
Francesca laughed again. “She’s worthy, Sylvan. But then of course, you knew that.”
“You intimated to Becca this morning,” Sylvan said, her voice having grown deeper and gravelly, “that my enemies might be my friends. I’ve always counted you as my friend, Viceregal.”
Francesca’s eyes flashed, and Drake caught a glimpse of fiery depths churning below the brilliant blue surface—hot lava flowing down a mountainside, immolating all in its path.
“These are uncertain times, Alpha,” Francesca said. “We are at war, but the battle lines have not yet been drawn. Our enemies may stand on both sides of that line when the conflict begins. I and my Dominion will always stand for the Praeterns. Where will you stand?”
“You know where I stand,” Sylvan growled. “The Timberwolf Pack will always be first. I will not turn my back on my Praetern allies, but I won’t go to war against humans simply to preserve them as a potential source of prey.”
“Humans provide the Weres with no critical resources,” Francesca said, her expression blanking. “You aren’t faced with the possibility of extinction if the balance of power shifts.”
“I just walked through your club,” Sylvan said. “If anything, you have more prey now that you are able to hunt out in the open than you ever had before.”
“Yes,” Michel said, breaking her silence. Her gaze swept over Sylvan with disdainful fury. “But freedom always comes with the threat of chains. The first time humans learn of a host being turned involuntarily or of a newling losing control and killing a host, we Vampires will bear the brunt of the backlash. Humans outnumber us. Where will you and your wolves stand then?”
“You doubt my allegiance, Vampire?” Sylvan said softly.
Drake let her wolf ascend. If a fight was coming, she would fight in pelt. A rumble of warning escaped her throat.
“Michel is passionate,” Francesca murmured, stroking Michel’s chest casually. “Would not your second take up your cause as ardently, Alpha?”
“I sympathize,” Sylvan said, her tone cool. “If your sovereignty is threatened, Viceregal, or your Dominions endangered, come to me. As you did my mother.”
“There are those, Sylvan darling,” Francesca said quietly, “who fear you may lead us into greater danger by conceding to terms that will favor humans over us. That what you seek to gain will come at too high a cost. Be careful, darling.”
Drake snarled. She’d had enough of the Viceregal’s familiarity where her mate was concerned. “That sounds like a threat.”
“Not at all, Drake,” Francesca said. “A caution from someone who cares for your Alpha.” She looked pointedly at Sylvan. “You might do well to reconsider your allegiances.”
“What do you hear of my missing females?” Sylvan asked abruptly.
Drake thought she saw the Viceregal tense at Sylvan’s sudden question, and then Francesca was her imperturbable self again.
“Nothing, I’m afraid,” Francesca said. “You’re welcome to speak to Guy, our main bartender. You know him, I believe, Sylvan. Or any of my security. Perhaps they saw some of your wayward…females, did you say? That would be unusual, wouldn’t it?”
“Very,” Sylvan said evenly. “Our females do not leave the Compound unprotected.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you, but I will certainly have Michel instruct our people to be on the lookout for anyone who shouldn’t be here.”
Sylvan stood and Drake followed. Sylvan encircled her shoulders, and Drake caressed her abdomen. The Viceregal watched them intently, her mouth parting as if in anticipation.
“Why would someone want our females?” Sylvan asked.
Francesca shrugged elegantly. “Darling, how could I possibly know?”
Drake didn’t see her rise, but Francesca was suddenly a heartbeat away from Sylvan. Drake’s wolf reared up and snarled, and her skin prickled with the rush of pelt under her skin. She didn’t realize she’d growled out loud until Francesca turned to her, an indulgent smile on her face. “Don’t worry, Prima. I know better than to touch. Now.”
Drake’s fingertips ached with the press of her claws just beneath the surface, and her sex swelled and pulsed. Francesca surveyed Sylvan with open desire, and Drake’s vision hazed. She panted, holding down her wolf. Attacking the Viceregal would not help Sylvan’s cause.
“It’s always about the power, Sylvan. Consider where your power truly lies.” Francesca held out her hand to Michel. “It’s nearly dawn, and Michel and I have others to attend to. Don’t be a stranger, Alpha.”
The door behind them opened, and two dark-haired Vampires in dark trousers and form-fitting silk shirts appeared, apparently to escort them out. When Drake looked back, Francesca and Michel were gone. She had things she wanted to discuss with Sylvan, particularly the thinly veiled threats from the Viceregal. But discussion would wait until she had Sylvan alone and could remind her exactly where, and with whom, she belonged.
I already know, Sylvan telegraphed.
I’m going to enjoy reminding you.
Watching Lara feed and Jody struggle not to, Becca fought to keep her silence. Jody’s eyes were opaque black, flat and deadly. Her pale skin had whitened above her hollowed cheeks, and her parted lips were a crimson slash framing her elongated incisors. Her throat rippled as she swallowed the feeding hormones flooding her mouth. She was hungry, so hungry, and Becca ached to see her suffer. She could barely imagine Jody’s need, even though the anguish was written so plainly on her face.
Becca knew what it was to be lonely, to struggle with a bone-deep sense of isolation and solitary struggle. But she did not know what it was like to hunger for, starve for, life itself, hour after hour, day after day. She could not imagine the price such hunger exacted, or the cost of assuaging it with the lifeblood of others for eternity.
“Release her,” Jody said, her voice harsh and tight. She gripped the back of Lara’s head, her fingers entwined in Lara’s tawny hair, but she didn’t pull Lara away from Tricia’s throat. “Release her.”
Lara shuddered, and Becca’s stomach clenched. Would Lara be able to stop feeding? Another thing Becca could only imagine—the control it must take for a Vampire to stop short of destroying the host, when their every instinct clamored for more. But Jody could stop, and Lara must learn to do it. Becca held her breath, silently praying that Lara could obey. If Jody was forced to destroy Lara after saving her, the tragedy would be doubled. Lara’s sacrifice would hurt the Timberwolf Pack, and Jody would blame herself for failing. How much more must Jody endure?
“Now,” Jody snarled, and Lara’s head jerked away from Tricia’s neck. Lara groaned, shuddering as if an internal war were being waged. Shoulders heaving, she braced an arm on either side of Tricia and Jody, caging them in against the door.
“It still hurts,” Lara gasped.
Jody supported Tricia between them, cradling Tricia’s head on her shoulder and stroking Lara’s cheek with her free hand. Tricia made faint whimpering noises, her face slack, her hands fluttering over Lara’s chest and arms. Jody said, “It will always hurt. You’ll learn to live with it.”
Lara slumped to her knees, burying her face against Tricia’s abdomen. “Tired. Tired.”
Becca rose, but Jody shook her head. “Wait.”
Jody lifted Tricia into her arms, carried her to the bed, and gently placed her down. After covering her with the sheet, she rapidly gathered Lara into her arms
and opened the hall door. Niki immediately appeared, her eyes sharp and wary. Jody held Lara out to her.
“Take her to the car,” Jody said. “We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Niki sheltered Lara against her chest, surveying her blood-tinged face with an angry expression. “When will she wake?”
“Not until tonight. She is vulnerable to more than the sun now. All Clans have enemies. Guard her carefully.”
Niki snarled. “I don’t need to be told how to protect one of the Pack.”
Jody smiled thinly. “She is also Clan Chasseur de Nuit. Now you guard a Night Hunter.”
Niki’s eyes flashed again, and she turned her back, disappearing down the hall.
Jody closed the door behind her and returned to the bed. Bending down, she stroked Tricia’s face. “I will send someone to watch over you. You did well tonight.”
Tricia reached for her, her face soft and sensuous. “Stay with me. Let me—”
“No, no more tonight.”
Becca wasn’t sure how Jody managed it, but the door opened again to admit a sleek female Vampire with short, thick blond hair scooped back from her angular face. She looked from the bed to Jody. “You have need of me, Liege?”
“Guard her until she’s recovered. See that she is escorted home. She is not to host again tonight.”
The female inclined her head. “Yes, Liege. Do you require me to bring a host for you?”
“No,” Jody said tightly. “Your service is noted, Amelie.”
Amelie nodded once more and took up a post by the door, arms folded beneath her high breasts, ignoring Becca as if she were a mere ripple in the air.
Jody leaned over Becca’s chair and lowered her voice. “We don’t have much time before dawn. Are you ready?”