A Mate for Griffin

by Charlene Hartnady

  The Program

  Book 4

  A Mate for Griffin

  By

  Charlene Hartnady

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Copyright © February 2016, Charlene Hartnady

  Cover Art by Melody Simmons

  Copy Edited by Kimberly Reichmann

  Produced in South Africa

  Published by Charlene Hartnady

  PO BOX 456, Melrose Arch,

  Johannesburg, South Africa, 2176

  charlene.hartnady@gmail.com

  A Mate for Griffin is a work of fiction and characters, events and dialogue found within are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews no part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email and printing without prior consent in writing from the author

  Table of Contents:

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Author’s Note

  Books by this author:

  Excerpt

  Chapter 1

  “I don’t like it,” Lazarus growled. “I don’t like it one bit but since it’s the king’s orders, we have to comply.” The big male strode across the room before turning and facing them. He seemed to look at each team member in turn. His hard, intelligent gaze finally came to rest on Lance for a few beats before looking away. Lazarus scowled. “Females at a sparring session. Human females at that.” he grunted and shook his head.

  “I like the idea.” Lance flexed his muscles. “They’re going to fucking love it. We need to make sure we give them a show.”

  “No shows,” Lazarus growled, narrowing his eyes. “Didn’t you listen to a word I said earlier? Human females are timid. We need to go easy. No breaking of bones or severing of limbs. Blood is fine but nothing excessive.”

  “We’re not a bunch of fucking pussies.” Lance spat at the ground at his feet. “There are fascist groups out there and with the shifters stealing our females, we need to be in top fucking form. That means hitting hard during every sparring session to ensure that we are ready.”

  Griffin could see that Lazarus was trying to keep it together. His muscles tensed and his jaw ticked. “York is not here today, which means that I am in charge. What I say fucking goes. If any of you want to question my authority speak up right now.” He glared at Lance who was busy strapping a sword to his back. It didn’t even seem like the male was really listening.

  “Lance,” Lazarus growled.

  The other male nodded once, still not paying attention. “Sure thing.” he muttered, glancing Lazarus’ way.

  “Good,” Lazarus grunted. “Obey my fucking rules. The humans will not enjoy seeing us go all out and I don’t know about you but I want all my limbs intact and fully functional once we are done.” The male gave a half smile which just looked plain weird. Lazarus was taken with one of the humans, it was clearly doing him some good.

  Griffin wished that he could say the same for himself.

  “Oh yeah.” Jackson grabbed his dick. “There is one limb in particular that I really need. My female will not be happy if anything serious happens to any major part of me.” He gave his junk another squeeze. “I’m all for taking it easy today.”

  Most of the males laughed and murmurs of agreement sounded.

  “It’s settled then. We’ll have a light sparring session showcasing our strength and abilities while keeping the timid females happy. Our jobs will be to impress not to scare the hell out of them.” Lazarus glared at Lance for a second.

  A small handful of the males were trying to impress females, particularly with the final day of the first round being held the next day. The majority of the males would not be picking a female though. It was tough to actually get to know anyone or to test any sort of compatibility when Lance got to them first. Or even worse, when he went ahead and rutted a female while another male was still courting her. Griffin had tried to talk with Lance but his friend did not seem to be in the listening mood.

  Most of the males, to include his fellow elite team members, had given up on the male. Griffin refused to do the same. Lance was torn up inside. He was clearly not dealing with his emotions. For now, Griffin had worked on defusing situations but he needed to address this further with the male before things got out of hand.

  “Let’s get to work,” Lazarus growled as they exited the room.

  Lance pushed past Griffin. “Work”—he snorted—“more like prance around like fairies.” The male grumbled.

  “Hold up, Lance.” Griffin clapped his hand on the male’s back.

  “I’m not in the mood for small fucking talk.” Lance barely slowed down. “We have a job to do. I take my work seriously.”

  “We all do.” Griffin moved in next to Lance. Lazarus didn’t want any major bloodshed today. He didn’t want the females rattled. Lance’s eyes were dark. His gaze, intense. It was as if a cloud had descended over him. In a mood was putting it lightly.

  Griffin decided it would be best if he sparred with Lance instead of one of the others. He would keep his cool regardless of what Lance dealt out. Hopefully, his friend would keep himself relatively under control. Griffin refused to lash out like some of the others would do. Lance could be mean and he could play dirty. In short, he could be a dick. He was also his friend, Griffin reminded himself of the last on a low sigh.

  “I need a bit of extra practice.” Griffin decided to stroke the other male’s ego. “Want to spar against me today? I could use the challenge.”

  The big male looked him up and down. “You’re a fucking baby…I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Cocky motherfucker. “I am the youngest vampire ever to make the elite fucking team.” He grit his teeth. “I’m good and you know it.”

  Lance cracked a smile for all of five seconds. “You’re not bad for a youngster. A little rough around the edges.” he sniffed.

  Griffin shook his head. “I’m fifty-three this year. You’re full of shit, Lance. Are we going to do this or not?” He took a deep breath as they made their way to the far side of the field.

  “Sure, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Lance took his place in front of Griffin.

  The human females had started arriving. Most of them were here to see Lance in action. Griffin ignored them. He had to suppress a smile though. In some ways, having Lance around was a surefire way to ensure that a female really wanted you. If she wasn’t one hundred percent into a male, Lance would snap her up in a second.

  A clanging of swords right next to them brought him out of his thoughts.

  Lance pulled his blade from the sheath at his back and Griffin started to do the same. He barely had his fingers around the hilt when Lance thrust. Griffin wasn’t quick enough to deflect the blow. The blade sank into his chest. Deep enough for the wound to stick around for a bit. To cause him some irri-fucking-tation but not so deep as to cause major issues. He grunted as Lance pulled the blade free.

  “Too slow.” Lance shook his head and went at Griffin full force.

  So much f
or taking it easy. The other male growled, his lip curling away from his fangs which gleamed in the morning sun.

  Fucking great!

  Lance came at him even harder. The male wanted blood. That much was clear.

  Sweat beaded on Griffin’s brow. His hand moved to block Lance’s sword but the fucker kept up the assault.

  “Take it easy.” he managed to growl, as he pushed Lance off of him, using his blade against the other male’s sword.

  “Fuck that.” Lance’s eyes looked crazed. It was as if he had zoned out completely. Great…just fucking great. Why had he signed up for this?

  “Lazarus”—Griffin was panting hard. Their swords clanged as they came together—“said that …” Another hard clang that caused vibrations to radiate up his whole arm. So much so that he grit his teeth.

  “Fuck that bastard!” Lance spat.

  Griffin had been right in his assumption that Lance was not willing to play nice but he had greatly underestimated the situation. There was one little problem. Make that two…not so little…problems. The first was that he couldn’t retaliate in the way that he wanted because bones would break and limbs would be severed and the human females would be greatly upset. The second problem was that even if he really tried, he would only be able to get a few good hits in at most. The bones that would break and limbs that would be severed would definitely be his.

  He had only taken blood once since the start of The Program. Lance, on the other hand, was high on the fucking stuff. Power radiated off of him. Thing was, the male was a challenge on any normal day. He was almost unbeatable at the moment. Particularly to a male like himself. He was running on empty. Lack of sex and lack of blood meant that his energy levels were nonexistent.

  Lance laughed as he sliced Griffin’s arm open. He fucking laughed as blood ran down his arm. Hot and thick. The wound stung a bit but it was nothing compared to the way his muscles screamed from the sheer exertion. In many ways, defense was way more effort than attack. It put him on the back foot and in a big way.

  By now, Griffin’s arms shook. Sweat coated his entire body. It dripped into his eyes. His fangs throbbed. His body urged him to go at the male with fang and claw like a beast. To ravage him. To drink his blood. He knew that if he looked in a mirror that his eyes would be glowing.

  The urge to let his baser instincts run loose and attack Lance no matter the odds rode him hard. There was no fear involved, only calculating maneuvers that allowed him to stick with Lazarus’ wishes while keeping Lance from severing anything. Though he looked casual as he swung at him, there was nothing casual about Lance’s abilities. He wielded his blade with a precision and skill that was rarely matched.

  Every time Lance stepped forward onto his left leg, he dropped his blade about half an inch. The opening was just enough to…No! He would hold his ground. Hopefully, this would allow the male to tear into him a bit more and that would appease whatever was going on inside of him.

  Surrender. The thought gnawed at him. To have to bow the fuck out. It was not in his nature. Not how he did things. Griffin had not made the highest order by bowing out. Blood, sweat and more blood. That’s how he had done it. Never give up was his motto but he would throw in the towel for Lance. Most of all, he would do it for the females. They didn’t deserve to witness all hell breaking loose, which would definitely happen if he fought back.

  He staggered a step or two before finding his feet. His energy was draining fast. Lance’s eyes were just as crazed as before though. Digging deep, Griffin clung to his sword like a lifeline.

  Unfortunately, Lance kept up the assault. His gaze was focused. Hard as fucking nails as it bore into him. “Should’ve stayed in bed this morning, lightweight,” the male growled.

  “Fuck you!” Griffin snarled. It irritated the fuck out of him even more now that he couldn’t take the gap and stab the fucker. Instead, he redoubled his efforts at keeping Lance’s sword away from him.

  “Dickhead!” he spat. It wasn’t good to goad the male, but hey…he couldn’t help himself. Lance was being an A-grade prick.

  In a wild thrust to block Lance’s sword, he somehow nicked the male on his chin. If he wasn’t working so hard to keep the demented motherfucker away from him, he would’ve chuckled because the small cut resembled a bad shaving accident.

  The big baby growled. His face twisted in rage even though the tiny cut was almost healed already. With an almost casual flick of the wrist, Lance sliced Griffin’s cheek right across the bone. From his ear to his nose. It stung like a motherfucker.

  Blood sprayed from the wound and a cry was torn from him. Fucking Lance. Why couldn’t the male get a fucking grip?

  Feminine shrieks filled the air. The humans. Dammit! He was trying to avoid a situation, yet at this rate, he was fast becoming the situation.

  “Stop this,” he groaned. Making a final attempt at gaining control. Of talking some sense into this asshole. “The females.” It came out sounding like a desperate plea.

  “Bullshit!” Lance smiled. “Those screams were of excitement, not fear.”

  Although Lance had probably been right, there was a loud retching noise and the scent of vomit filled the air.

  “And what about that?” Griffin blocked a half-assed thrust. Lance was playing with him at this point. Right now, he wished he had fought back. That he had landed at least one or two decent blows. Lance deserved it.

  “That was your future mate. She’s obviously soft…like you.” Lance made a sound of aggravation. “Can you at least fucking try? I know you can do better than this.”

  “I’m sparring…” Griffin deflected another, much harder blow. He accidentally sliced Lance’s arm. A minor flesh wound and only the second time his blade had touched the male. “You on the other hand…”

  Lance glanced at his bicep before looking back at Griffin. “Boo fucking hoo!! Suck it the fuck up.” he said between clenched teeth. “I don’t play. I win.”

  “It’s not a fucking competition.”

  Lance smirked as his blade hit home…yet a-fucking-gain. Pain lanced through him.

  Enough was enough.

  He groaned as he allowed himself to fall to his knees. Griffin put his hands up. “You got me. Fuck, Lance.” he growled, as he wiped blood from his eyes.

  Lance pulled a face of disgust. “Like fuck.” He paused. “Get up.”

  Griffin shook his head, more blood dripped from the cut on his cheek as it reopened. “We’re done. Someone needs to teach you the meaning of the word practice.”

  Lance shook his head. “On your fucking feet, pussy.” His nose was bloody, although Griffin couldn’t remember hitting him there. The male threw his sword from one hand to the other and back again.

  “Fuck you!” Griffin kept his eyes firmly on Lance. With a shake of the head, he tossed his sword down. The blade made a ringing noise as it made contact with the dirt at his knees.

  “It’s done!” Lazarus shouted from somewhere behind him. From his vantage point, Griffin couldn’t see the male.

  Lance chewed the inside of his cheek for a second or two. His eyes narrowed. “Pick it up, right fucking now.”

  With a sigh, he shook his head. “I said that I’m done, Lance.” To try and emphasize his point, he gave another shake of the head. “It’s finis—”

  The fucker slashed his arm, the harsh glare from his blade blinded him in the process. Griffin couldn’t help but to groan. At this point he could actually feel blood dripping from his wounds. Could feel himself weakening further.

  A whole lot of shrieking filled the air and it sure as hell wasn’t from the males. Fuck! Why couldn’t Lance control himself? Why couldn’t he obey fucking orders? Griffin squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the wound on his arm. Blood oozed between his fingers. He was so weak that his regeneration was taking place at a much slower rate than normal. In short, he was fucked.

  Lance was breathing deeply. It wasn’t from exertion. It was because he meant business. “Pick it the fuck up or lose
the arm. I’m not done.” Lance gestured to the sword on the ground with his own weapon.

  “Stop!” Some or other female shouted. “Leave him alone.” She sounded so cut up. Damn…the humans were upset. Seriously upset.

  “It’s fucking over,” Lazarus growled. He sounded pissed. Griffin didn’t blame him considering Lance was defying a direct order.

  Shit!!

  There had to be a way to defuse this fucked up situation.

  Lance shook his head. “You stay out of it.” His eyes narrowed on Griffin. “We’re the elite, the fucking ten. We are not a bunch of pussies. Pick. Up. The. Sword.” Once again, he gestured with his own blade to the weapon at Griffin’s knees.

  The male was going to finish this one way or another. Whether Griffin picked up the sword or not. In scenario one, he refused, Lance cut him anyway and looked like a colossal prick. In scenario two he picked up his sword and as the extreme underdog, Lance sliced and diced the fuck out of him. Although the male would still look like a prick, he would be a regular prick which was a damn sight better than a colossal one. He couldn’t allow Lance to look any worse than he already did.

  Griffin narrowed his eyes and his jaw clenched. “You’re such a fucking dick.” He reached for his sword, fresh blood spilled from a stab wound on his chest. He felt himself grimace even though the pain wasn’t so bad. If he was lucky, Lance wouldn’t kill him but by the look in his friend’s eyes, he wasn’t feeling very lucky right now.

  Griffin really hated dying. It sucked monkey fucking balls and in a big way. It hurt like a bitch to feel your body shut down. Your heart stop and your lungs seize. It hurt even more to feel your tissue start to decay as your brain shut down. It was painful to die but it was sheer agony coming back.

  Regeneration after death was the biggest fucking bitch of all. By then, your body was in a state of serious decay. It was agony as everything fired up again. Breathing felt like a grater slicing over your lungs and blood felt like sandpaper going through your veins. The worst part of all was the paralysis. Hours of pain. Unable to move. So painful that you sure as hell didn’t want to. Fuck! Griffin sucked in a deep breath. The hole in his chest pulled. He used his sword as an anchor as he rose to his feet.