Tribal Law

by Shannon Curtis

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, lifting her chin at her lie.

  “Is it because your kisses are so unremarkable, they’re easily forgotten?” Now he was being deliberately provocative, damn it. She pursed her lips.

  “I kissed a lycan.” She shrugged. “Big deal.”

  “But then he couldn’t remember much of it, either.” His voice was low, silky as he thought aloud. “I wonder why that is?”

  She trembled, and she tightened her arms around herself for a moment until she realised how defensive the posture made her seem. She put her hands on her hips in an attempt to brazen it out.

  “I really have no idea what you’re talking about. Besides, last I looked you were my client, Max. Not my keeper.” She glanced over her shoulder to the laptop sitting on the bed. “We should get back to work, the ME’s report is in.”

  He slid his arm around her waist, dragging her up against his body. She blinked, stunned at the quick move. For a human, he was fast—fast enough to surprise her.

  “Ryder,” he whispered, his mouth close to hers. “Not Max. Ryder. Why is it you can never remember my name, Vassi, and I can’t remember your kiss?”

  Chapter Seven

  She noticed his shortening of her name a split second before his mouth met hers, and all her buried desire flared anew, consuming her as his lips slanted across hers. She really should stop this. Put the guy in his place. She opened her mouth beneath his, and his tongue slid in, playing with hers in a sensual game of kiss-chasey. Soon. She’d stop him soon. She slid her hands up his arms, enjoying the definition of biceps as he pulled her even closer, before wrapping her arms around his neck.

  She moaned as her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples tightening as sensation after sensation bombarded her. Heat—so much tantalising heat that made her want to crawl inside his skin and revel in it. He cupped her butt, lifting her up against him, and she moaned at his display of strength as she wrapped her legs around him. Separated by two layers of denim, he rubbed his cock, long and hard against the juncture of her thighs, and a liquid heat seeped into her panties at the contact.

  He backed her up against the dresser, letting her rest on the top as he continued to kiss her with a skill that left her hot and breathless and oh-so-willing. His hands cradled her face, angling her head for a deeper kiss. She moaned again, arching against him. So warm, everything was so warm. Her nipples were tight, hard nubs, and she rubbed them against his chest, her hips meeting his thrusts as they writhed against each other, the furniture knocking against the wall.

  She wasn’t sure how long her phone rang for before she noticed the intrusion. Max grew still at the sound, then lifted his mouth from hers, locking his gaze with hers.

  She swallowed. “I have to get that.”

  He scooped her up from the dresser, then let her body slide down his frame until her feet touched the floor.

  “Then I guess you’d better get it,” he said, letting go of her.

  She walked over to her bag on the bed on shaky legs, almost ripping her handbag in frustration as she yanked her phone out of its depths. She was equal parts relieved and angry at the interruption.

  “Yes?” she said, breathless, holding the phone to her ear as she gazed back at Max.

  He now leaned against the dresser, arms folded across his bare, muscled chest, looking quite calm and in control, damn it.

  She brushed her hair over her shoulder as she tried to regulate her breathing.

  “Vassi? Are you all right?”

  Seraphina. Not for the first time, her assistant’s timing sucked. “Yeah, Seraphina. What’s up?”

  “You sound out of breath—oh, my God, am I interrupting something?” The woman squealed the words out. Vassi winced as she pulled the phone away from her ear for a moment.

  “No, it’s fine. What’s the matter?”

  “I did, didn’t I? Is he as hot and wild as he looks? Tell me he is.”

  Vassi pursed her lips. “Did you need something, Seraphina?” She refused to indulge her friend’s curiosity.

  “Oh, I always need something. Hot, hard and—”

  “Seraphina,” Vassi interrupted briskly, “you rang me …”

  “Has he got a mighty wang? He looks like the type.”

  Heat flushed across Vassi’s cheeks, and she saw curiosity flare in Max’s eyes briefly before she turned to hide her embarrassment. She was still flushed and warm—and yes, aroused. And she was having an entirely inappropriate conversation about a client—who stood within earshot.

  “I’m hanging up—”

  Seraphina tsked. “Oh, see, you’re cranky. That’s what happens when you deprive your magic hoo-hah of a mighty wang.”

  Vassi covered her eyes. “Good lord, sometimes you can be such a juvenile,” she muttered into the phone. “Was there a purpose to this call, Seraphina?”

  “Oh, yes. The medical examiner’s report is in—have you seen it yet?”

  “Haven’t had a chance to read it yet.”

  “I’ll save you some of the frustration of deciphering the mumbo jumbo. Jared Gray was poisoned.”

  Vassi stilled. “Really? How?” She was so conscious of the man behind her, it was as though her body had locked in on him like a homing beacon.

  “Wolfsbane was added to a vial of adhesive in your client’s surgery. The dose was toxic enough to kill several wolves. Very concentrated, very rare.”

  “I see.” Wolfsbane had no effect on vampires, and in concentrated doses it could kill humans, but the creatures most susceptible to its effects were the wolves and other shifters. The alpha prime had been poisoned intentionally.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” Seraphina began, her voice a low, conspiratorial whisper. Vassi could just picture her hunkering down behind the reception desk, gazing around the office like a spy. “You need to move. RB was in the accounts department when your credit card charge came through. She knows where you are, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s sent out a posse of pack mates to track that Lord of Hotness you’re shagging.”

  “We’re not sha—” she bit the rest of her response off, supremely conscious of the man listening in on her side of the conversation.

  “Out of everything I just said, you focused on that. Interesting. Like I said though, you need to scram. I think she also contacted Ms. Marchetta. Oops, gotta go, there’s a gorgeous vampire stepping out of the lift.”

  Vassi stared blankly at the phone, the dial tone mocking her before she finally pressed the call off button.

  “What was that about?”

  The deep voice spurred her into action. The man had poisoned Jared Gray. She forced herself to remember their previous discussion, to cling to the belief of his innocence. He may have poisoned the alpha prime, but perhaps not intentionally. And werewolves knew where to find them. “We need to leave. Now.”

  She hurried over to the bed and snapped her laptop closed, shoving it into her briefcase. She scooped up her torn clothes from the previous day and shoved them into the shopping bag they’d used for their new purchases.

  “What’s happened?” Max’s voice was muffled as he pulled his t-shirt on over his head.

  “Someone in my office has leaked our location. We need to get out of here before any guests arrive.”

  Max quickly grabbed any items lying around the room, stuffing them into the bag, then grasped her arm and tugged her toward the door.

  “Wait,” he said, pulling her back behind him. He opened the door a little and peered out. He took his time, surveying the street, eyes narrowed. He frowned and pulled back, shutting the door.

  “What? What’s the matter?” Vassi asked.

  “We already have company. Come on,” he said, and crossed to the bathroom. Vassi grimaced. There wasn’t even a window in there. The motel room’s windows fronted onto the veranda, which fronted on to the parking lot. They were sitting ducks.

  “Maybe I can go and talk to them, negotiate safe passage,” she su
ggested. Max snorted as he lowered the toilet seat and stepped on top of it.

  “They’re not here to talk, Vassi.”

  He pressed a portion of the ceiling tiles up and shifted it to the side. Vassi gaped at the narrow hole.

  “Uh, what are you doing?” Did he really expect her to climb through that?

  “We have about a minute before they figure out which room we’re in,” he said, reaching over to pull the strap of her briefcase off her shoulder. He slid the case up into the cavity, then beckoned to her.

  She grimaced, then stepped up onto the toilet lid. He braced one foot on the vanity, then interlocked his fingers, creating a stirrup for her to step into. She shot him a dubious look, and he jerked his chin.

  “Hurry up.”

  She put her foot into his hands, braced a hand on his shoulder and stepped up.

  “Ups-a-daisy,” he muttered, and lifted her. She grabbed the sides of the hole and pulled herself through, then crawled along the struts of the ceiling. She rolled away as Max’s hands braced along the rim of the tiles and he pulled himself through, angling his body to slide in along panels. He quickly replaced the tile as she heard wood break under the force of a kick.

  The lycans had arrived.

  * * *

  Ryder held a finger to his lips, then gestured for Vassiliki to crawl in front of him. From his memory of the motel layout, there were three rooms between theirs and the end of the block. Fortunately the roof cavity was one combined space between the ground and first floors, and he commando-crawled along until he found the manhole into the last unit. The cavity was hot, all the heaters in the units cranked up against the chill of the oncoming evening.

  He could hear the lycans tearing apart their room. It wouldn’t be long before they figured out what they’d done. They needed to move quickly. He placed his ear against the tile and listened. When he was satisfied the unit was empty, he slid the tile aside, dangled his feet through the gap and dropped silently down to the bathroom floor. He caught the briefcase Vassiliki dropped down to him, then grabbed her legs and guided her through, enjoying the feel of her body against his, albeit briefly.

  Finger to lips, he hurried her to the door. He cracked it open a bit, and saw the one lycan standing guard further down the veranda. He wasn’t doing much of a job of it, though, as he turned to see what his pack mates were doing inside the unit. Ryder opened the door and slid out, pulling Vassiliki behind him, her bag slung over his shoulders. He quickly dragged her around the corner of the building and halted, quickly scanning the parking lot.

  They wouldn’t get far on foot, not with wolves chasing them. He’d parked Blanche close to the exit—another car had been parked in their spot when they’d arrived back from their jaunt up the mountain. He pursed his lips. They might just be able to make it.

  He ran from one car to the next, using them as cover, keeping the vehicles between them and the motel rooms. Vassiliki was close on his heels.

  He ducked down, feeling along the bottom rim of Blanche’s chassis until he found the small magnet box. He grinned as he withdrew his spare key. It was old school, and not really a secure location, but as yet nobody had ever tried to steal his car, so the key was more for his convenience than anything else.

  Still in a crouch, he inserted the key and turned, wincing at the slight click. He rose up to peer over the hood of the car.

  The lycan standing guard turned.

  For a moment their gazes met, then the man growled. Ryder yanked open the door and pushed Vassiliki in.

  “Go, go, go.”

  She clambered over to the passenger seat as he slid in right behind her. The lycan started running, shifting into wolf form mid-stride as Ryder slammed the door shut.

  He started Blanche, throwing the car into reverse as the wolf jumped up on the hood.

  Ryder pulled the steering wheel to one side as he jerked up the parking brake, sending the car into a spin. The wolf fell off and rolled along the asphalt as Ryder slammed the car into drive and sped away. He didn’t brake as he turned onto the street, ignoring the cars that skidded to avoid collision.

  He glanced into the rear-vision mirror. The other lycans had raced out of the motel room and were piling into a black SUV. He swerved around a corner, jumping up over the kerb, tyres squealing as he turned the car in the direction of the highway.

  “Where are we going?” Vassiliki asked tightly as she held on to the grip above the passenger door.

  “Good question. Where can we go where the werewolves won’t follow?”

  “Hammerhead Ridge,” she suggested, peering over her shoulder. “Oh, God, they’re right behind us.”

  He took the ramp to the highway, slowing down just enough so as not to fly off the curve. “What’s at Hammerhead Ridge?” he asked as he depressed the accelerator, increasing his speed as the ramp slowly straightened out. He was unfamiliar with the name. He checked the mirror. She was right. The lycans were right behind them.

  “A vampire colony.”

  Ryder frowned. From a wolf den to a vampire nest. He wasn’t quite sure which was worse. Venturing into a colony was different to just passing through territory. It would be like stringing a steak around his neck and wandering through a den. Human blood was their preferred meal.

  “Any other suggestions?” The small car darted between the occasional vehicle, the lycans close behind them. The sky was darkening to a deep purple as the sun set, the darker mountain peaks like black sentinels against the skyline.

  “No.”

  He jerked forward as the SUV slammed into them from behind. He swore as he struggled with the steering wheel as the car started to slide.

  “Oh, my God, what are they thinking?” Vassiliki cried, glancing back out of the rear window. The SUV switched on its high beams, and Ryder ducked as the rear-vision mirror caught the reflection, blinking as he tried to avoid being blinded. He peered into the darkness beyond the windscreen.

  “They’re determined, I’ll give them that.”

  The car jolted again, and he swore underneath his breath as he caught sight of Vassiliki’s wide-eyed gaze. He could understand the lycans’ anger, even felt responsible to a degree, but that was no reason to put his innocent companion at risk of her life. Weaving the car across the road to avoid traffic and the vehicle behind them, he was conscious of the guardrail, and the dark drop into oblivion beyond.

  He checked the rear-vision mirror, the headlights growing larger as the SUV prepared to ram them again. He floored the accelerator, edging away at the last moment. He swerved, dodging another attempt, but wasn’t fast enough when the SUV surged forward and rammed them on the right rear wheel well.

  The car jack-knifed, skidding across the road. There was another jolt as the SUV rammed the car on the passenger side, and Vassiliki cried out. Ryder saw the guardrail speed up towards them through his side window, then there was a crunch, sparks, and suddenly they were airborne. Ryder flung his arm out to brace Vassiliki for impact as trees slammed up to meet them, branches cracking the windscreen. Glass flew, and Ryder turned his face away. His centre of gravity reversed as the car somersaulted down the ravine.

  Chapter Eight

  Vassi blinked. Everything was swimming and she bit back a wave of nausea. Damn, but she hurt. Her head lolled at an awkward angle, a tight feeling across her chest constraining her effort to breathe. She blinked again, harder, until her vision started to clear.

  Kind of. She winced, trying to make sense of what she saw. She bit back a moan as the bones in her right leg started to knit back together. She was lying down in a dark, dank place, with bars on three sides of her, a stone wall behind her. That was about as much as she could see, as she waited for the swelling in her brain to disperse.

  “Vassi? Are you okay?” Max’s voice echoed through the darkness toward her, concern evident in his tone. Springs creaked, and she heard the light pad of feet on stone as he crossed to the bars separating them.

  “Uh-huh,” she groaned as her body�
�s natural healing process kicked in. As a half-blood, it took a little longer to mend, but she would. She needed blood to heal quicker, and to take away some of this pain. She looked down at herself. She was strapped to some sort of bed.

  “Why am I tied down?” she asked, hissing as her broken leg popped a shard of bone back into place.

  “They didn’t know how you would react when you woke,” he said, and sighed. “God, you scared me. When I came to, I thought you were dead.”

  She chuckled, the sound dry and raspy in her throat. “Technically, I was, but it takes more than just a few broken bones and busted organs to keep a good vampire down, Max.”

  Another sigh. “Ryder.”

  The grey fog descended again, obscuring his words in her memory, and she winced. She knew it annoyed him. It annoyed everybody, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Her mother had once told her that her abilities made her see the true essence of a person, and therefore a better suited name.

  Screw her gift. She’d just like, for once, to have a normal conversation. She extended her talons, wincing when one didn’t stretch with the others. Damn. Her healing abilities only extended as far as her original body. She’d have to go to a miscreant healer to fix that—if she got out of here.

  “Where are we?” she asked as she contorted her wrist, slicing through the leather straps that bound her.

  “I believe the Woodland Pack have caught us, after all.”

  She grimaced as she sat up. “They crossed boundaries to do it. Summercliff might border on the Woodland area, but the bulk of it is squarely in Nightwing territory.” It was one of the reasons she’d selected the town. She swung her legs off the bed and stared at the floor for a moment, trying to assess their situation. It wasn’t looking good.

  “I thought Nightwing was safe?”

  “So did I.” Damn. “Either the wolves trespassed—and they’ll catch hell for it if they did—or they were allowed access.”

  “Why would Nightwing give them access?”

  She grimaced. “Because the Nightwing vampire prime doesn’t like the Armstrong family.”