Hawk

by Rasey, Patricia A.

  “Say what you will, but your actions speak otherwise.”

  Kaleb ran a hand over his lower jaw. “I need her to feed me when I desire communion. Nothing more.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, dude. If you have no intentions of tapping into that little piece of ass, then you won’t mind if I do.”

  He knew Grayson was trying to get a rise out of him, and damned if it wasn’t working. No one was going to fuck Suzi Stevens. Not even her fiancé, whoever the douche bag might be. He’d make sure of it. Then when he sank his fangs gum deep into her neck, he’d make sure she begged him to take her. And maybe, someday, he might be stupid enough to do just that.

  “I’m going to bed.”

  One of Grayson’s brows rose in challenge at his unanswered statement.

  “Stay the hell away from her, Gypsy, or I’ll rip your fucking head off,” he said, hearing his VP’s answering chuckle all the way to his room before he slammed the door and cut off the infuriating chortle.

  Chapter 6

  “I wish to speak with Mircea.” Kane stood on the very stoop of the ancient castle he had two months prior when he had requested that his and Rosalee’s mating be annulled. The elder vampire hadn’t been happy with him then. Well, he sure as hell wouldn’t be happy with him now.

  Kane wasn’t about to leave until he had his say.

  His great uncle would either agree to see him or Kane would rip every door off its rustic hinges until he found the insufferable bastard. Kane was not a man to be denied. Not this time. He may have had patience when he and Cara first arrived in Italy, waiting four months to gain an audience with the one vampire who could grant him his desire to mate with Cara. Then he had all the time in the world. That was before someone had tried to take his twin’s head. Now he’d be damned if Mircea would dictate when the inevitable meeting would take place.

  “I’m sorry but Mircea doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”

  Kane grabbed his uncle’s “yes man” by the throat and backed him into the house. His normally tanned skin paled as his already bulging eyes damn near popped from their sockets.

  “I didn’t ask what the old bastard’s wishes were. You tell me where to find him and I’ll think about allowing you to live.”

  The balding man’s mouth sucked in air like a beached fish. Kane easily tossed him aside. “Never mind, I’ll find him myself.”

  The man’s wheezes echoed down the hall after Kane as he gasped for air. Much more pressure and Kane could have easily collapsed his windpipe, killing the human. But his death would gain him nothing, other than Mircea’s scorn. That, Kane was sure, he already had.

  “Mircea, you arrogant bastard,” Kane called out as he took the stone stairs to the second floor two at a time. “Where the hell are you?”

  Just as he reached the landing, Mircea exited the sitting room adjacent to his apartment-sized bedroom. His white robe cloaked his body, dragging across the cold stone hallway floor beneath him. Leather thong sandals covered his bare feet. The pompous ass looked like an Egyptian pharaoh, for crying out loud.

  “What’s the meaning of this, nephew? Haven’t I heard from you enough in one lifetime?”

  “I’m just getting started,” Kane said, his grin surely as evil as he felt inside. Rosalee would answer to his allegations if she had anything to do with Nicolas and Steven’s demise. He’d see to it that she lost her own fucking head for her actions should she be guilty.

  “So what is all hellfire important that you would think to disturb my siesta?”

  “You can sleep any time, old man. Where the hell is that worthless stepdaughter of yours? And don’t tell me you don’t know this time.”

  Mircea rolled his eyes. “Back to that? If you must, then please join me in my sitting room. I already tire of this conversation. Please make it quick and be on your way, will you?”

  Without waiting for a reply or to see if Kane cared to follow, he turned and reentered the large spacious room. Two large white, rounded sectional sofas faced each other in the center of the room. Several throw pillows littered the surface while a white cushioned ottoman completed the center. Mircea sat in the center of one of the sofas, arms stretched across the back, just as a servant appeared from another entrance with a bottle of wine and two glasses perched on a highly-polished silver tray. The tall lanky man glanced warily at Kane before pouring two glasses of the deep red wine.

  “Merlot?” Mircea asked, as the servant held out a glass to Kane. “Please join me. I hate to drink alone.”

  Kane took the large glass from the man’s long, delicate fingers, then took a seat across from his elder. His uncle may appear frail by all appearances with his thin frame and sunken cheeks, but Kane knew the man held the strength of many men and could easily take him out if he so chose. Kane twirled the deep red liquid in the glass, then took it to his nose and inhaled the rich woodsy scent before taking a healthy swallow.

  “Good vintage.”

  “I should hope so.” Mircea picked up the bottle and glanced at the aging label. “It’s an ’83. A very good year for merlot.”

  He placed the bottle back on the tray, took his own glass and looked Kane straight in the eyes. His silvery blue gaze cut right through him. “Now, what’s this have to do with my tiresome stepdaughter, Rosalee?” he spat her name as if the word alone disgusted him.

  “Do you even know if she is still in Italy?”

  Mircea shrugged, then took his wide-mouthed glass to his lips and took a small sip. He didn’t appear overly concerned with his stepdaughter’s whereabouts. “I think I already answered this the last time we met. Either you’re not listening or you’re daft in the head, boy. What reason do I have to believe that she might’ve directly disobeyed my command and left the country?”

  “You said yourself you haven’t heard from or seen her. Have you talked to her since you allowed our mating to be dissolved? Does she even know?”

  “No,” he said, his tone casual as if he could care less what Rosalee might be up to. “Rosalee often goes off on her own. She’s never once disobeyed me. Do you offer proof now that she might have? Isn’t it enough I allowed you to mate with another? Why must you bother me with such bothersome drama?”

  “I appreciate your kindness, Mircea. And I mean you no disrespect. Please do not mistake my reasoning for being here.”

  “Then out with it, boy. What the hell is all important that you would disturb my peace and threaten my maggiordomo?”

  “I received a disturbing phone call from my twin yesterday.”

  “Kaleb? What trouble is my other nephew up to now?”

  “Someone tried to take his head.”

  Mircea slowly nodded, but he didn’t have the look of surprise that Kane hoped to see. Was it possible that Mircea had a hand in ordering Kaleb’s beheading for daring to take the life of a primordial, whether his brother was justified in doing so or not?

  “And naturally you think my stepdaughter is involved … why?”

  “As you already know Alec Funar tried to take my mate’s life.”

  “Go on.”

  “It’s still my belief that Rosalee had a hand in that.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  Mircea already knew about the events leading up to Alec Funar’s beheading last fall. Kane had partially filled his great uncle in on the details when he had requested he be allowed to mate with Cara.

  “All women that had been drained in Pleasant I knew or had relationships with. I don’t think that it’s a coincidence by any means.”

  “And I already told you last fall Rosalee was here with me. It’s only been the last few months that I do not know where she’s taken herself off to.”

  “I don’t believe Rosalee drained anyone.”

  One of his black brows rose in challenge. “Then what’s this have to do with her?”

  Kane could tell the old man was quickly tiring of the whole conversation by his tone. He needed to get to the point before Mircea threw him out.

/>   “Alec Funar acted on Rosalee’s orders.”

  “You better have proof if you’re yet again accusing my stepdaughter.”

  “I have proof. I didn’t mention it before because you had granted my wish to annul my mating with Rosalee. No reason to drag the details out.”

  Mircea’s gaze narrowed dangerously. “Yet you do now? Why?”

  Kane all but squirmed in his seat. If Mircea desired, he could behead Kane with little effort. Kane wasn’t a fool when it came to knowing how dangerous his adversary was. Accusing his stepdaughter of conspiring against Kane would no doubt warrant the primordial’s anger.

  “Rosalee plotted against me, using Alec to do her dirty work. As you know, resulting in Kaleb taking that primordial’s head.”

  The ancient’s face reddened and his fangs lengthened. “Why are we rehashing this story? Is it your wish that I change my mind and demand restitution?”

  “You already know that under the circumstance I feel my brother was justified.”

  “Where is this proof against Rosalee?” A muscle ticked in Mircea’s cheek. He held his fury in check. “You accused my stepdaughter of conspiring to kill all those who dare to get close to you. Yet, you have not offered proof. I already granted your wish to mate again, so why now do you feel the need to drag the unpleasantries back up?”

  “Because I believe she’s left the country and now is plotting to take my brother’s head. We found Alec’s phone. Rosalee had tried to call him following the—”

  “The beheading.”

  “Yes. And although we didn’t answer it or correspond with her, we were able to view the texts between them that proved our theory. She wanted to see me punished and miserable for her being banished to Italy. I assume now that’s why she’s missing. I believe she knows that I told you about her involvement at our last meeting. Not to mention you allowing our mating to be dissolved.”

  Mircea slowly nodded, then drained his wineglass. He set the empty on the silver tray so gently, Kane barely detected the sound of the glass clinking against the metal. He knew his great uncle’s fury simmered beneath the surface, that much obvious in his obsidian gaze trained on Kane.

  “Certainly, you can understand why now I would think your stepdaughter has her hands in the plot to behead my brother. Though whoever plotted against Kaleb, missed their target and took out two of my brethren in the Sons of Sangue instead. Forgive me if I’m not of a very permissive nature at the moment.”

  “That doesn’t tell me why you think Rosalee is involved in this new supposed scheme. What reason would she have for going after Kaleb?”

  Kane had asked himself the same question. By all accounts, Mircea could’ve ordered the hit, not Rosalee. “Kaleb smelled primordial scent all over the scene.”

  “So you naturally think of my stepdaughter?” His one brow tipped skyward in challenge. “How do you know that I didn’t order the hit on your brother? After all, he broke a cardinal rule by killing a primordial. We both know the sentence that carries. Tell me, dear nephew, why should he be granted amnesty when to do so would show weakness on my part?”

  “Because in our last conversation you told me you granted him immunity. Are you saying that you went back on your word and now you passed down the order?”

  Mircea ran a hand through his slightly graying hair, attempting to tame the thick mass. “I did not. Though by all rights I should have. It appears someone else took it upon themselves to carry it out.”

  “And who would do that? You are the sole judge and jury as you are the eldest of the vampires. Who would act without your order?”

  He shrugged, poured himself another merlot and sat back, his now obsidian gaze holding Kane’s. “No primordial has ever acted without my expressed permission … except that of Alec Funar. That’s why your brother received absolution. Whoever tried to take your brother’s life has done so by his, or her,” he quickly amended, “own actions. You have my word that I had no hand in this.”

  “And if Rosalee is involved?”

  “I will see she is punished as I see fit.”

  “By banning her from leaving Italy?” Kane failed to conceal the bitterness from his tone.

  “Watch yourself, boy. Your sarcasm does not suit you well.”

  Kane grit his teeth. He hated to apologize to the old bastard, but he needed Mircea on his side. He ducked his head, looking into the bottom of his empty glass. “I meant no disrespect.”

  “You have your reasons for hating Rosalee more than anyone. She caused you the life of your son. So for that, I forgive your disdain against my stepdaughter.” He sighed through thin lips. “Now go. I will dig into this matter and punish the individual guilty of acting on his own … or her own desires, and for not first seeking counsel with me. Please send my regards to your pretty little mate. As for Kaleb, you tell him that I absolved him of his crime against Alec Funar. But should he take matters into his own hands again, I may not be so merciful.”

  * * *

  “Suzi Stevens … have you seen her tonight?” Kaleb asked Draven, who stood with his back against the bar, drinking a shiraz from a stemless wineglass, surveying the patrons.

  Red, blue, and yellow lights flashed about the room to the heavy beat of the industrial music. Ravers danced, hopped, and waved glow sticks to the pulsing heavy-laden bass beat. Normally Kaleb thrived on the energy coursing through the room. Some of the ravers were high on X, or ecstasy, a drug common to the Blood ‘n’ Rave and one Draven profited from.

  The drug was useless to his kind as their blood regenerated too rapidly to feel the effects for more than a few moments. But should any of the donors be high on X at the time of feeding, ecstasy having tachycardia as a well-known side effect, it pushed the sexual experience for them over the top, resulting in too rapid of a heartbeat for the user. Something he and the Sons avoided due to the high risk of death for the donor. If a donor was high on X, then no one used them for communion.

  Unfortunately, Kaleb had seen the fatal side-affect personally when one donor’s heart went into SVT, or supraventricular tachycardia, while he had had her bent over the bathroom sink and fucked her from behind, his fangs buried deep in her shoulder. It was all fun and games until she face-planted the ceramic sink, leaving them a mess to contend with. The young donor became an unfortunate added number to missing persons. The woman had to have come by the Disco Biscuit via another route, since Draven never sold X to a known donor, the reason the Sons allowed him to profit off his drug sales without interference from the MC.

  Wearing red, cat-eye contacts and rounded, blue sunglasses perched low on his nose, Draven glanced at Kaleb and shook his head. “Haven’t seen her in months,” he said. He held up his glass to the bartender for a refill. “What’re you drinking?”

  “I’m not.” Kaleb grit his teeth. Hell, the only thing he had a thirst for at the moment was Suzi Stevens’ blood. So where the hell was she?

  Being a Monday, the Blood ‘n’ Rave wasn’t exactly packed. If Suzi had been there, Draven would have seen her. It had been three days since she had sought him out, concern for his well-being clearly written in her blue gaze. Fuck her concern. Shoving his disdain for her aside in his moment of weakness, he had drank from her anyway. Not only that, but he had demanded that she feed him personally. And yet, knowing he would need to feed every three days to sustain himself, she had directly disobeyed him by not being here. Damn himself for agreeing to her terms that they meet in the public lounge.

  If he had to, he’d break down every donor’s door in Florence until he found her as he had no clue where the little bitch laid her head. If she thought to hide from him, then the state of Oregon was not nearly big enough. Kaleb would have every Son and Knight on a statewide search until she was found. And if she lived with her so called fiancé? Kaleb would love to go toe to toe with the bastard right about now. A one-carat solitaire wasn’t a big enough deterrent to stop him from getting what he wanted. He’d see to it the bastard learned his place. Suzi Stevens
may not belong to Kaleb, but he’d be damned if he’d allow someone else to stand in the way of his need.

  “You needing a donor?” Draven broke into his murderous thoughts. “I could see one brought up to my office for you.”

  “What I need is a little brunette named Suzi. If you can’t provide me that—then I’m not interested.”

  “Someone got you by the balls—”

  Draven’s question was cut short as Kaleb gripped him by the throat, lifting the tall man off the floor by a good four inches. Kaleb growled as his eyes blackened and his canines elongated. “Speak to me like that again and you’ll be spitting blood.”

  “What the hell?” Draven wheezed, trying to catch a breath. The hand holding the glass of wine loosened, the glass crashed to their booted feet as he clawed the hand gripping his throat.

  Kaleb sneered. “My reasons for wanting the little bitch is none of your concern.”

  “Point taken. Now,” he croaked, “please let me down.”

  “Jesus, Hawk!”

  Kaleb stifled a groan. Of course she would pick that moment to appear. How the hell had she slipped into the club without either of their notice? Kaleb released Draven, who dropped to his booted feet with a thump and staggered back against the bar, his hand going to his injured throat. The bar owner would likely sport a raspy voice for the next few days. Not that Kaleb cared.

  “It’s about time you decided to show up.”

  Lightning shot through Suzi’s blue gaze in her anger. “I knew if I didn’t show that you’d come looking for me.”

  “Why should that bother you, piccolo diavolo?”

  “Because it does.” Her gaze narrowed. A lesser man would’ve cowered from her piercing gaze. “What did you just call me?”

  Chapter 7

  “I called you little devil.”

  And why should that surprise her? Of course he did. “You manhandle Draven and you call me little devil? Seriously? That’s like the pot calling the kettle black.”

  “Overused analogy.”