If he didn’t have to be linked with himself, he wouldn’t.
Oh wait, his link was broken.
“I need to feed from one of you.” Rourke noted astonishment from Demetrius while Bishop paled. “At least try. D, you heard the demon claim they attempted the same with me that Calli went through, only with one of the thirteen. I might not have trouble feeding because either Grace isn’t my true mate or my bonding instincts were destroyed. Or I’m one of those vampires where it doesn’t matter. But if I do…”
Demetrius recovered first. “I’m offended Rourke. You don’t want to try to have sex with me?”
Again, Rourke was impressed by Demetrius’ relatability despite his prestigious background. “I don’t want to offend Calli.”
“Are you sure we shouldn’t bring in Zoey or Ophelia for you to feed from?” Bishop rumbled, still looking less than thrilled with the idea.
Rourke shook his head. “If I can’t feed from you, I can’t feed from them. Gender won’t matter to the mating bond.”
Without hesitation, Demetrius raised his wrist. Bishop lifted his slowly, but noticed Demetrius beat him to it and dropped it with visible relief.
Well, I didn’t want to sink my teeth into you either, big guy.
He grasped his friend’s wrist and brought it to his mouth. The closer his mouth got to Demetrius’ skin, the bigger his grimace grew.
Demetrius tensed, halting him. “You actually have to bite me. It’s obvious you don’t want to feed from me, but with Callista, I couldn’t bear to swallow another’s blood. As you well know,” he growled.
Yes, he did recall plugging Demetrius’ nose and mouth until he swallowed Zoey’s life-saving blood. And he’d do it again, for any of them.
Exhaling, he stared down at Demetrius’ wrist. His gut squirmed at the idea. Demetrius and Bishop stood as still as statues, waiting.
Snarling, he bared his fangs and struck. Demetrius flinched, but didn’t pull his arm away.
Warm, rich blood filled Rourke’s mouth, but it could’ve been raw sewage the way he reacted. He ripped his fangs away and heaved the tiny amount of blood onto the floor. Good thing he hadn’t been up to eating breakfast earlier.
Coughing and retching, Rourke at least remained upright.
Demetrius’ dry voice reached his ears. “Well, we have our answer.”
“It can’t be,” Rourke rasped. He straightened to Demetrius closing the wound he had made.
Bishop scowled. “Why not? Grace is a solid female.”
“She’s prime.” Rourke scrubbed his mouth and scanned his body. Wearing black had major advantages.
“You’ve been hanging out with me for forty years, and I’m prime,” Demetrius pointed out.
“I work for you. It’s different from being mated.”
Demetrius studied him. “Is that why you’ve never mentioned your past? I mean, Rourke, I don’t fucking care who gave birth to you. And as for what happened to you…” He blew out a gusty breath of disbelief. “…fuck man, we all have our skeletons and some are worse than others.”
Bishop nodded the whole time. “We figured you’d been through some shit, but we respected your wishes to kept it to yourself. Because it doesn’t matter.”
Rourke heard their words, but in his soul, he couldn’t believe him. Not when he’d grown up having it demonstrated how little he meant. The two males were prime, it was easy for them to say.
“You don’t believe us.” Demetrius started down the hall, expecting them to follow. “If you need another forty years for us to prove it, so be it, but we’re wasting moonlight.”
In an uncharacteristic move, Bishop clapped Rourke on the shoulder. “You’re one of us, like it or not. Now let’s go save your mate.”
The male expected the best from Grace, assumed her reasons were sound for doing what she’d done. Yet after confirming her true mate status, Rourke could not. Her betrayal ran too deep.
Rourke walked behind them, deep in thought. He had an idea of how to find his brother, but they needed to deal with Grace’s demon first. “D, Grace said she saw a picture of the couple who are supposed to be her parents. She said she looks like them.”
His brow creased in thought, Demetrius punched a number on his phone. “It’s me. Are you naked?” Bishop snorted. Demetrius passed the info along to Calli and pocketed his phone when he was done. “She’s on it. Rather Ophelia will be since she knows prime families better.”
Yes, she did. Their petite team member was pulling double agent duty, gathering intel on which prime families are playing host for the Circle. They were up to six.
Seven with Grace.
***
“So…this is the address.” Demetrius eyed the quaint structure as dubiously as Rourke was.
They stood a block away from a colonial house painted seafoam green with cozy black shutters, a full porch, and stately columns.
“It’s close to the university.” Bishop untucked his shirt to cover the weapons strapped around his waist.
Rourke and Demetrius followed suit. This wasn’t the neighborhood three heavily armed males stalked through after dark. This area was where children were snuggled into bed by ten p.m. and their parents watched the nightly news before turning in.
Demetrius assessed the property. “Freemont-U, a loaded recruiting ground for nubile young women shunning the world, forging their own way, and introduced into a world where supernatural is super-hot.”
“I doubt it’s just women,” Rourke added.
“You’re right, my friend.” Demetrius stepped off the sidewalk to creep through the lawns until they reached their target. “Our cult leader may be an equal opportunity corrupter. It’d be the smart thing. Demons could shop through hosts like they were at a consignment store.”
A small growl escaped Bishop. “The demons would use them mercilessly. They’d have no say over their bodies.”
Stepping through lawn ornaments and bypassing motion lights, they ran into trouble two houses away.
A large, white poodle barked until it went hoarse.
The three of them crouched low in a row of brittle lilacs long past bloom, the majority of their leaves already fallen.
The backdoor to the house opened. “Simba, what the hell?” A woman in a bathrobe plucked on the leash. “The neighbors are going to call the police on us again.”
Simba fought like hell, his eyes piercing the branches to where the three of them hid. The woman eventually won the tug of war, dragging the straining poodle inside.
“A dog that fancy shouldn’t have a such a ferocious bark.” Bishop stepped out of the branches.
They fanned out automatically, not having to consult each other. Rourke sucked in deep breaths, tasting the air. The faintest tang of brimstone hung on the breeze, but otherwise he detected no vampires or shifters.
He jumped the fence between the poodle’s yard and the next and crept around the back of the house. It was two stories high with a basement. Rourke snuck up to the basement window to peer inside. He sensed Bishop and Demetrius doing the same to the rest of the windows.
Seeing nothing of consequence other than a dank basement used as storage, Rourke straightened. He stepped over landscaping rocks and turned the corner to find Bishop hanging off the roof of a wraparound porch to spy inside an upper level window.
For such a large male, he was stealthy as hell. Rourke marveled at the many positions he’d found his big friend in. If business with Demetrius ever got slow, Bishop could make a hell of a living as a cat burglar.
“Nothing.” Bishop jumped down, landing lightly in the grass.
“Over here,” Demetrius’ whisper floated on the breeze.
Rourke never minded stalking humans. Their dull senses made for a cakewalk mission, exactly what Rourke needed right now.
He and Bishop found Demetrius staring into a first level window with dull glow emanating from it. All three dropped when the front door opened, their black clothing blending seamlessly into the shadow
s.
Giggles traveled through the night air. Two ladies sauntered down the front walk toward a large Jeep. One woman was dark and lanky and the other was blonde and curvy. Bishop stiffened next to him. Rourke glanced over to see Bishop’s gaze riveted on the blonde. No wonder, the girl was right up Bishop’s alley. Unfortunately, her association with this house marked her off Bishop’s prospective list.
“I don’t know.” The brunette was speaking. “It seems so…unknown.”
“That’s the thrill of it. You don’t know what you’re going to get, or what’s going to happen.” The breathless quality to the blonde’s voice relayed her excitement. “When I was a host, I came to and my body was deliciously sore. The side of my neck was tender, like maybe a vampire drank from me.”
Demetrius shook his head. Rourke’s disbelief was as strong. Who the fuck would turn their body over for someone’s use—willingly? How many years had he plotted and planned to gain his own freedom? Too fucking many.
Reason number one to butt this cult leader out of business: protect those who are too stupid to protect themselves. Someone else might think the girl deserved what she got, but to Rourke it was wrong. All of it was wrong.
The other girl shivered at the blonde’s words. “You have no memory of what happens while they’re…while you’re…”
“I wish. I guess that’s only for the powerful vampires.” She fluffed her light hair. “I plan to become one someday.”
Rourke exchanged a wft? look with Demetrius. So that’s how this guy recruited them. The humans had no idea it was impossible.
“How many more times do you have to host?” The brunette’s eyes were full of excited trepidation.
The curvy girl frowned. “I dunno. Terrance said it takes a lot, but each time the vampire essence builds within us, and with each vampire feeding, we start to change.”
Bishop dropped his head down, like he gave up. Rourke commiserated. The lies were beyond believable, and that the guy responsible found vulnerable people to attract for the demons’ use was inconceivable.
They had to protect the secrecy of their species, but it opened doors for all kinds of misinformation to get passed around in order to manipulate others.
And that’s exactly what the demons were doing to vampires, how they recruited primes to possess.
The girls climbed into the vehicle and drove off. The three of them crouched in silence for a moment.
“Hellfire.” Demetrius’ voice was full of anger and disbelief. “No wonder the demons want to keep the tome out of our hands. They can con primes like they do humans.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Rourke straightened, while Bishop stared numbly at the grass.
His friend had a big heart, but Rourke was surprised how the humans’ unwitting plight bothered the male.
Demetrius gestured to the window he’d been spying through. “Check out the view. A real B movie going on in there.”
Rourke peered in. D’s explanation was exceedingly accurate. “I’m surprised there isn’t a guy with a black cape and fake fangs wandering around in there.”
Candles rested randomly on every surface. A chandelier had been spray painted black and there was a large pentagram in the middle of the floor. A large table was pushed to the side, with a rug rolled up on top. They must cover up the demonic graffiti during the cult’s off hours.
Bishop had risen and was staring through the pane next to Rourke. “I say it’s time we pay this filth a visit.”
Demetrius sniffed the air. “I can’t sense well through the house, can’t tell how many humans are inside, but we can’t delay any longer. I don’t think the girls locked up behind them. Whaddya say we go through the front door like the gentlemen we are?”
Rourke would never be accused of being a gentleman. “I’ll take the back.”
They broke off. Rourke circled to the back door and extracted a lock pick kit from his pocket. Some people carried wallets. Some people didn’t need a wallet if they could pick locks.
The backdoor had a standard knob and deadbolt. In less than two minutes, Rourke pushed the door open. He heard no voices. Demetrius and Bishop hadn’t encountered anyone yet.
Candlelight filtered through the rooms. Rourke exited the mud room into a kitchen. The floor above him creaked.
Demetrius whispered from the front entry, knowing Rourke’s ears would pick up the sound when human hearing couldn’t. “Clear the basement. We’re heading upstairs.”
After a short search, Rourke located the door to the basement. He swiftly combed the area. Two journals and a tub of occult materials containing candles, ugly statues of gargoyles, and sinister chalices caught his eye. The egress window was barely large enough for the tub, but he wrestled everything into the well outside. They’d grab it before they left.
No raised voices greeted Rourke as he ascended the stairs, nor when he cut through the living room to climb to the second level. He stepped cautiously to prevent any creaking, and when he reached the top, Demetrius and Bishop stood listening at a door at the end of the hall. Bishop held his phone to the door.
Demetrius held up three fingers, switched to two, and then only one. He bent the remaining finger until it was horizontal to the floor.
Three humans, two were standing and one was prone.
The closer Rourke got, the clearer the sounds of faint chanting were. A ritual was being performed, and Bishop was using his phone to record the words.
He pulled up next to the others to listen.
Latin?
He listened to the ancient language being spoken on the other side. Demetrius and Bishop probably understood, but he had never learned.
Demetrius moved his lips, barely any air passing through, but Rourke understood what he said. “The man is calling for the spirit. He’s on his fifth time repeating it. Bet he’s going for six, seems to be one of the underworld’s pet numbers.”
His nodded as if the sixth round had begun. They were caught between preventing another human being possessed and learning as much as they could to protect everyone. How far could they allow this ceremony to go? As long as they needed to help their people.
A groan resounded from the room.
A man Rourke figured was Terrance Walkins used his best ominous vice to ask, “Is this the one known as Stryke?”
Another hoarse voice answered, “It is I.”
“How may we be of service?” One of the three was a woman.
“Is this the best body you could get?” the demon answered.
An awkward heartbeat passed before Terrance said, “I apologize if it does not fit your needs. I can hold you in this plane until nightfall. You will have to bond with a strong being in order to be able to cross freely.”
“I know the drill,” the demon grumbled.
Once they heard rustling inside like they were going to leave the room, Demetrius nodded to signal Rourke.
He backed up a few feet from the door. Demetrius and Bishop bordered each side of the door, weapons drawn.
Rourke might’ve trained himself to open any lock he came across, but nothing beat a solid kick.
He raised his leg and slammed his foot right above the door knob. Wood splintering was extremely satisfying as the door shuddered open.
A human man and woman, two people who could blend in almost anywhere in Freemont among decent people, stood with their mouth agape. A second human male, young and unfit, with soulless black eyes lay between them, his black gaze narrowed on the three vampires.
The woman recovered first, diving for a nightstand Rourke guessed held a weapon. The man who carried out the ceremony reached into his waistband for a silver gun. Rourke’s opinion of him grew a notch. Only because the couple was smart enough not to bring a demon into the realm without a way to put the host down and send the demon back to Hell if things went sideways.
The possessed man laid a hand on the other man’s chest, stalling him in his scramble for a weapon. The woman spun with her own gun raised, but the demon
held his other hand up to halt any further action. Two small movements that showed his power over them.
Both Demetrius and Bishop had the humans in their sights, ready to fire to wound. Killing humans was much more complicated than other species. Police, paperwork, a trail of their existence, people who searched for them. It all got messy, as did wounding them, but it was easier than hiding a body.
The demon spoke first, addressing the humans. “Put your guns down, Terrance, Gail. You don’t stand a chance against these males.”
“I’m flattered.” Demetrius’ level tone was suspicious. “Our reputation precedes us. Perhaps, you’d like to introduce yourself…Stryke”
A deep chuckle that didn’t fit the mouth of the marshmellowy male was pure demon. “Oh, I definitely know your reputation.” His dark gaze studied them. “Bishop. Rourke.”
Rourke’s brow furrowed. There was familiarity in his voice. It was like Stryke knew them, not just heard of them.
The two humans who summoned Stryke shifted. Gail’s hand was frozen around her pistol, the aim random, not pointed. Terrance’s fingers were wedged between his back and his own weapon tucked into his waistband. They both watched Stryke, who searched behind Rourke and his team with a disappointed expression.
“Just you three. Damn.” Stryke’s disappointment was palpable. Which one of them did he want to see? He sighed. “What a wasted trip.”
Questions ran through their heads at the demon’s non-confrontational behavior when Stryke yanked Terrance to him, securing the gun in his own hand.
The three vampires lunged, but with speed the non-athletic male surely couldn’t possess, Stryke shot Gail as he wrapped an arm around Terrance’s neck. Terrance’s eyes bulged before the gun was dropped, and Stryke used his free hand to jerk the man’s neck up and sideways.
“No!” Rourke bellowed, lunging for Stryke.
Rourke’s hopes for freeing Grace drained away with the human’s life force. Terrance and Gail were their best source at finding a way to release Grace from her demon.
Rourke didn’t realize his fangs were exposed. He’d prepared to rip out the human’s throat to reach Stryke, prepared to exact revenge for destroying his chance at saving Grace. Solid hands wrapped around his biceps like a vice. Only one male had the strength to restrain Rourke.
Rourke (New Vampire Disorder Book 2) Page 16