by Michelle Fox
Table of Contents
The Alpha's Addiction (Huntsville Pack Series, #4)
Disclaimer
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
The Alpha's Bite
Huntsville Pack Book 4
Michelle Fox
Copyright 2017. All Rights Reserved.
Vampire Davian Sanglante's mission is to stop a blood slave ring, not fall in love with a drug addicted werewolf caught up in the whole mess.
Adele may be an addict, but she has the eyes of an angel and she sees right into Davian's heart. She knows him. Gets him. Sees him.
It's almost enough to make his heart beat again, but he knows he can't have her. A vampire like him doesn't get a happy ending. Not with the secrets he keeps, even from Adele.
A novella length shapeshifter romance that ties into the next book in the Huntsville Pack series, The Alpha's Bite.
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. All events depicted are fictional. Characters are consenting adults. Any resemblance to places and persons, living or dead, is unintentional coincidence.
Every effort has been made to provide a quality reading experience, but editors and technology are fallible. Please report typos or formatting issues to [email protected].
Chapter One
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Davian
My stomach knotted at the scent of hopelessness in the air. Dozens of empty eyes looked at me. I doubted the shifters before me even knew they were conscious.
The Contessa had warned me it would be bad, but until now, until it was in front of me, I hadn't understood the horror. I pretended to inspect the shifters, fighting to keep my expression even and measured. My mission relied on me swallowing my disgust. In this place, buying shifters was just another business transaction. In this moment, life served the immortal.
I wondered if the Contessa had known so many shifters were involved.
The line of eight female and three male shifters stood against the wall in the strip club basement, waiting for me to make an offer. This wasn't even all of them. Sources said Zion had an ongoing supply. He was moving more shifters than anyone else in history. Usually, the shifters rose up and fought back, but not this time.
Zion walked up and down the row of ragtag shifters standing before him, some held in place by his men, others too beaten down to do anything other than follow orders. Their clothes were torn and stained with blood, and their slack faces held vacant eyes that didn't respond to anything...not even the insistent thumping of strip club music from the floor above.
By contrast, Zion himself looked out of place in his designer suit—navy with a light blue handkerchief in the pocket, and underneath, a crisp white shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest. He dressed like a rich man, one who'd taken a very wrong turn somewhere. Which actually, he had, and by his own choosing, too. It made his mouth twitch in a self-satisfied smirk. The dark hole he'd dug for himself was making him a very wealthy vampire.
"These are all from the same supplier?" I asked, careful to keep my expression neutral. Zion must suspect nothing.
He nodded and flashed a gleeful smile. "I have a connection inside the packs." His voice had a patois I couldn't place. Maybe Creole. Or French-Canadian. Or maybe he just faked it. I'd seen vampires do that before. Accents were always hot in the US.
I raised an eyebrow. "The packs know about this?"
He scowled. "What do you care? You're just here to buy, right?"
"Just curious," I said, forcing a casual smile.
"You're not a bleeding heart, are you?" He picked out one of the shifters—a blonde with pale skin and dead eyes—and yanked her forward. "This one," he said, shoving her toward me. "She's still high from her last hit, so you'll taste it, but it won't be enough to affect you."
I caught the woman, her weight so light I felt like I'd been handed a sheet of paper. Her jeans hung on her undernourished frame. A hint of lilac clung to her, like a stubborn spring refusing to bow before the lingering darkness of winter. Blonde hair outlined the heart shape of her face. She had a natural beauty, but looking into her eyes, I saw nothing, not even a spark of awareness. She'd become a husk of someone who'd once had a life.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Claim her. Show me I can trust you." He crossed his arms, waiting.
My fangs throbbed in my mouth. It had been a long time since I'd fed. But the woman in my arms could not consent, and claiming someone against their will had been forbidden for the last hundred years. The world would be full of thralls otherwise. Someone would notice and vampires didn't want to be noticed. We preferred to cloak ourselves in shadows and let the light fall someplace else. Which was why Zion's operation needed to be shut down—quickly and quietly.
Lifting the woman up a bit higher, I nudged her head back with one hand, exposing her ivory neck. She blinked at the movement, but otherwise remained still. Her neck was a long, arched expanse of smooth skin, like soft, untouched snow. Her pulse quivered in the hollow of her throat. It was too much. I had to look away.
"What's her name?"
"Who cares?" Zion shrugged. "You can call her whatever you want. She'll be yours, after all."
"Adele," came a whisper so soft I almost missed it. Her blue gaze met mine, and something flickered in her eyes this time, something alive and aware.
"Davian," I whispered back.
"She's food," Zion said. "Why are you introducing yourself to her? Just feed."
I shot him a dark look. "In my time, we knew each other's names." There used to be salons where we mingled with humans, hand picking the best and offering them a sort of patronage in exchange for their blood. We'd had rules of engagement that all civilized vampires followed, but that had since faded. The modern world used time against us and eroded the eternal.
I would bet Zion had been turned after that time. His gauche sensibilities suggested he'd never courted his blood, never bowed over a woman's hand before slipping his fangs into her throat. The violent and the bloodthirsty had been shunned in my time. He would not have survived that era. Not like this.
"Names don't matter anymore," he said. "Now claim her or I'll kill you as the mole you probably are."
"I'm not a mole."
"Prove you're not some patsy from the council. Because that's the only reason you wouldn't feed. Show me you're for real." He reached inside his black suit jacket and pulled out a dagger, the blade tapering to a fine point. "Or I'll kill you and send your dust back to them."
"I'll be quick." I whispered the promise into Adele's ear. Then nuzzling her neck, I inhaled her scent, smelling the fur of the wolf lurking under her skin. My fangs slipped past her skin. The first gush of blood had a faint chemical aftertaste from the drugs, but it sweetened after that.
For a moment, time went backward and I stood in the woods of my childhood, surrounded by musk on all sides. And lilacs, but that came from Adele's scent. My fangs dove into her blood, filling me with her warmth and innocence and a memory of a place I could no longer claim as home.
In the distance, I heard my sister's voice calling for me with a playful laugh. I wandered through my memories, wishing they would sweep me away and never let me go.
I'd thought I'd been unhappy in those days. If the me of then could see
me now, I would be a different man. I'd had no idea how bad things could be, and now that I did, I couldn't change anything.
Adele moaned and clutched my shoulder, bringing me out of the dark corners of my mind. I pulled my fangs back and pressed my tongue over the wound I'd left in her neck, waiting until it stopped bleeding. I pushed away the memories as well, trying to forget about my sister, to shove that all back and seal it away. It was an addict I held in my arms. Some strange shifter who couldn't make the past live again. She wasn't Dahlia.
"You're so gentle, so kind," Zion said, his tone mocking. "She's going to love you."
"Unlike some, I've never seen the need to act the savage."
"It's better to teach them not to expect anything from you. Makes life simpler." He grabbed my arm, and pulling a small dagger from inside his jacket, sliced it across my forearm. "Now finish it."
Cold blood dripped down my arm, coagulating in the stale basement air. I shook off the clots and put my arm to her lips. She turned her head away and I gave her a little shake. "Drink."
"No." She breathed more than spoke her refusal, still weak from whatever drugs burned in her system and yet she resisted. She still had spirit. That might get her killed.
Zion snatched her from me and slammed her up against the wall. Her head thunked off the concrete bricks, and she hung there, suspended by Zion, limp and lifeless.
He waved me forward. "Do it."
I went to her and forced my blood between her lips. I willed her to swallow, fearing what Zion would do to her fragile beauty otherwise. Her throat moved and I hid a sigh of relief. She was mine, and while I was no good, I wouldn't ruin her like Zion would. She had a better chance of surviving the broken monster inside me.
Zion left us and returned to the line of spirit-broken shifters. Slicing his dagger against his arm, he force-fed them his blood and simultaneously sucked on their wrists, binding them all to him.
"What are you doing?" I asked, supporting Adele's limp weight against my side.
"Are you that dumb?" He raised his head and glared at me, a garish red ring around his mouth.
"But if you claim them, the buyers can't. My client wants slaves he can make his own."
"It's a light claim. I revoke it once the buyer takes possession. Someone has to control them. Keep them from causing trouble. Don't worry, they'll be clean for their new masters." He pulled the handkerchief out of his suit coat pocket and wiped his mouth. Nodding to Adele, he asked, "What do you think of her?"
"I'll take her," I said with a smile I didn't feel. "And I might want more."
"Ah, excellent. Perhaps you'd like to sample some others? See who you like?" He pulled out his cell phone and checked the time. "I regret I can't stay longer tonight. I have a supplier meeting."
"Dawn's close, anyways," I said. I wanted to leave and find out what Adele knew. "I'll return tomorrow night."
"Stay here. I told you we have guest quarters here. That way, we can get started at first dark tomorrow."
"I have a place," I said.
"It's not as nice as it is here." He clapped a hand over my shoulder and pulled me close in mock friendship. "I insist, actually. I don't like it when new clients wander around."
Chapter Two
Davian
Zion's men led us to a two-room suite at the far end of the basement. I kept my arm around Adele, supporting her weight. She had a dazed look in her eyes, and her feet stumbled.
The suite had a small kitchenette with a sink, minifridge and microwave. Zion must host more humans than I realized because vampires certainly didn't cook.
A small living room held a sleek contemporary couch and arm chair overseen by a large flat screen television mounted on the wall. Through an open door, I spotted a bedroom holding a king-sized bed covered in a red comforter. The turn down revealed black silk sheets. To the side of the bed was a bathroom. Thick cotton towels hung on racks and trays of toiletries with elegant French labels lined the vanity.
Despite the luxurious decor, I knew I was a prisoner, and Adele would be held with me until Zion received his payment. Claiming her had just been the start of our deal. Now I had to deliver the money to cover her purchase, or I would find my head parted from my body as a security precaution.
Setting Adele on the couch, I went to my phone and started to move the money. A good faith deposit and then I would increase my order in the hopes of tracing his network back to the start.
The money transfer set up, I sent an encrypted message to the Contessa, my contact at the Council, and let her know my progress. Then I took care of my new charge. She needed food and water. She might allow her addictions to ravage her, but I wouldn't. Rapping on my suite door produced a guard who agreed to arrange for a pizza.
"And some wings, " Adele called to me from the couch. She looked more alert, although her body still sprawled in boneless angles on the couch.
"A dozen wings," I said to the guard. I'd spent enough time in modern bars to know what they were but had never eaten one. They smelled abysmal though—sour as vomit and spicy as fire.
"Oh, and a couple pints of ice cream. Something chocolate and caramel."
"Did you hear that?" I asked. The guard nodded. I turned back to Adele. "Anything else?"
She hesitated. "Do you mind? I'm starving."
I waved for her to join me. "Order what you want."
Biting her lip, she came to stand next to me. She didn't stumble as much, but held onto furniture for support. I hastened to offer her a hand, but she waved me away. The guard stiffened at her approach, his hand going to the taser at his belt, eyes tracking her movements.
She scoffed. "I'm in no shape to run away, and I'm not going to fight you because that would just be stupid. So relax."
"And she is bound to me," I said when the guard's hand didn't move. "I will not allow her to run."
"Oh, that's just...even more perfect. Thanks." Her tone nipped at me, sharp as puppy teeth.
At least the guard relaxed. His hand dropped to his side.
"What would you like to eat?" I motioned for her to speak.
Adele rattled off an impressive list of food to the guard. Tacos, burritos, different kinds of wings, hamburgers, chips, nachos, cheese sticks, fries—her knowledge of junk food was encyclopedic. The guard finally handed her his phone and had her dictate a list.
"You're going to eat all that?" I asked once the guard was gone.
She shrugged. "Shifters eat. It's what we do."
I pointed to the minifridge. "That's not going to hold a lot."
"Don't worry. I'll eat it." She stretched out on the couch with a yawn. Her eyes fluttered open and then shut. I let her sleep. She was less trouble that way.
Almost an hour later, the food arrived. The spicy, salty, sweet aroma of it stirred her into awareness. She sat up and twisted her body from side-to-side until her spine cracked. Somehow, she looked even more tired. Gray half moons hung under her eyes.
"Here," I said, setting the food on the coffee table.
She didn't even look at it. "Let me go. Please," she said, her voice faint. "I want to go home."
"You'd never make it. As you said, you're in no shape for anything. You can't run and Zion would gut you before you made it to the door. You want out of this? You need your strength." I tapped the pizza box.
She blinked at me. "Like you're going to let me go." Her gaze fell to the pizza and she leaned forward, reaching for it. Opening the box, she took a slice and tore off a big bite. Her stomach yowled with glee and pink flushed her cheeks at the noise.
"Eat. Otherwise you have zero chance of walking away from any of this."
"What do you care? I'm just dinner to you, right?" She was already on her second piece, gulping the pizza down in two big bites. I watched her throat ripple with every swallow, transfixed. She had beautiful skin. Translucent as an angel.
I closed my eyes, remembering the wild taste of her. "How did you get mixed up with Zion?"
She froze, one h
and in the midst of reaching for more pizza. Ducking her head, she said, "I fucked up. That's how."
"I need specifics."
"Why?
I sent out a small burst of compulsion. I hated to do it, but I didn't have time to show her she could trust me.
"I'm an addict, okay?" Her eyes widened. She hadn't intended to say that.
"But you metabolize things too fast for a high." I narrowed my eyes. "Is there something new from the Chinese?"
She shook her head. "No. Designer chems are too expensive. I mix my own, there are...recipes online. Or I just mix old school stuff. Heroin and cocaine with PCP and pot. It works okay."
"That's a quick way to die." Even shifters had limits.
"And yet here I am." She shrugged and looked at the suite. "Although, I guess this isn't much better than dead."
"So Zion found you? Gave you drugs until you were incapacitated?"
She gave a short laugh. "Him? A dealer? He's not big on people skills, in case you haven't noticed. He hates the living. Hates 'em. That would never work."
"So how did he get you?"
"I wanted to get clean. There was an ad online. One hundred percent cure rate. Approved by the Pack Council." She closed her eyes and her shoulders slumped. "Oh God. I believed it. I came here and..." She motioned to her neck. "This is what I got. You."
I sat next to her and opened the web browser on my phone. "Can you find the ad?"
"Why?"
"I need to see it."
"Yeah. Okay. Sure." She tried to take the phone but I held onto it. With a huff, she used her finger to navigate. "You claimed me, remember? I don't think I can call for help."
"I'd rather not compel you."
"What do you care?'
"It's bad for your mind."
"After the drugs I've done, I doubt you're going to do any damage, but I appreciate that you're a gentleman." She tapped the screen on my phone. "Here's the ad."
I studied the site that came up, a forum that appeared to be about gardening with flashing ads for rehab. I clicked the ad. "Approved by the Pack Council? They know about this?"