Graham’s absence proved things were still not as Rhyse needed them to be—controlled. And that left Rhyse very concerned. Before his discussion with the werewolf, he told Tempest to call Addison’s employer at the Disposal Unit. “Inform them the seer is mine now and will no longer be reporting for work.”
If someone decided that Addison had disappeared because she went rogue, she would be in even more danger. Something neither of them needed.
“I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but we have a situation,” the werewolf said as soon as the door closed.
Rhyse stood in front of the fire, staring into it. “Go on.”
“A healer was bitten.” Brody kept his head bowed. “The Council agreed it was an accident.”
“About a month ago, correct? I was out of the zone, but yes, I heard.”
“During the healer’s first moon, he took a mated female.”
Rhyse chuckled, a sound rarely heard within these walls and certainly not coming from him. “So, the female decided she wanted a new mate.” While not all shifters mated for life, werewolves did. This couldn’t possibly be the first time something like this had happened, though. Emotionally and psychologically, they were primarily human most of the month, and humans changed their minds constantly. Addison was a perfect example of that.
“That is pack business, not mine.”
“She was the lead alpha’s female.”
Ah-ha. That was why Vaughn sent an underling to share the news. “Convey my condolences for his loss but there is nothing I can, nor will, do.”
“My lord, we don’t have midlife crises or affairs. We mate for life. The female’s choice to go against that has caused instability and nervousness within their pack, as well as all the packs under their protection. But the bigger problem is why she chose this particular wolf.” Brody paused until Rhyse turned to face him. “She chose the healer because he is the strongest alpha we’ve ever seen—not in history, but in the last few generations, for sure.”
“Alphas are the eldest members of the pack.”
“Normally, that’s true. But personality and strength also have a lot to do with it. Our animals are like a condensed version of us. So while it might take a human—or even a vampire—years to really know who someone is, we know immediately. It’s beyond instinct. Your grace, his wolf is...” He shook his head slowly. “Breathtaking. I don’t swing that way, but for him, I might give it a shot.”
“He was a healer? His name…?”
“Noah Cooper.”
It struck Rhyse that he never would have cared to know a seer’s name before. None of them would. The only reason they discussed this one by name was because he was no longer a seer and was now a higher being.
“Noah will have to fight to be alpha,” the werewolf said, “but if he wins and if he accepts the female as his mate, he’ll be lead alpha for all the shifters in this zone, giving him absolute power over the packs and a chair on the Council.”
“Even though they mated under the moon, Noah could still choose not to officially mate with her, is that it?”
Brody nodded. “But he has to be in a mated pair to hold the position. So if nothing’s done, a brand new, basically unknown werewolf will have a seat across the table from you, weighing in on decisions that affect all races.”
Yes, that could create a huge problem. “Before I decide anything, I will need to hear from other pack members and meet Noah. However, what happened last night takes priority.”
“Of course, your grace. The alpha sent Noah away until it’s all figured out. A pack near Salt Lake City agreed to take him and teach him about our culture for a while.”
“Will he cause any problems for their pack?”
“I hope not, but shifters aren’t known for our ability to stay out of trouble.”
Neither was the dat vitae.
Forty-five
Knowing Rhyse couldn’t phase back before dusk, Addison spent a little time chastising herself for even considering following his order. Then she got dressed—head-to-toe leather because that was all she had, other than the corset she disliked even more.
This was getting out of hand. A relationship with a super wasn’t a relationship. She was his plaything du jour. Maybe flavor of the week, if she was lucky. He’d get bored or have his fill and toss her out. If she was really lucky, he wouldn’t be tossing out her lifeless body.
“Addison?” Felicity called, knocking on the door.
Addison ran to open it “What’s up?” Hopefully, Felicity wasn’t here to talk about any weird screaming she may have heard last night.
Felicity held out a cell phone. “The Prime wants to talk to you.”
“Thanks,” she said awkwardly before putting the phone to her ear. “What do you want, Rhyse?”
“To take you from behind again. Which I will do as soon as the sun goes down.”
Addison coughed and turned away from Felicity, knowing she’d just turned bright red. “Don’t say stuff like that!”
“I was merely answering your question.” There was music in his tone, a humor she’d never heard before. Not in the Heights.
“I’ll be downstairs,” Felicity said, closing the door behind her.
“Why did you call me?”
“I do not know.” He paused. “Perhaps it was to see if you need anything from your awful apartment.”
She could say clothes, but he’d refuse. Strangely, she couldn’t think of anything she really needed from there. It had been her home for four years, but there was nothing of hers in it. The box of her mom’s stuff was the only thing of value there, and it would be there when she went back. But she didn’t need—
“There’s a box of my mom’s stuff in the closet,” she said. “Inside is a little photo album. I want that.”
After he agreed to bring it, he filled her in on what he’d found out from the Council—which amounted to a whole lot of nothing. “I will return in a few hours.”
“Okay.” How does one end a phone call with a vampire…who’s the Prime…who’s your lover? “Bye,” she said quickly before hanging up.
That went well.
She headed downstairs to give Felicity her phone back. Obviously, it was hers—Rhyse didn’t seem the type to use Ian Somerhalder as a screensaver. But halfway down, she stopped. There was a cell phone in her hand. Felicity probably wouldn’t mind if Addison used it to check on her friends, especially if she didn’t know until she got her bill. Addison would slip her some cash later. It was worth whatever the cost.
Addison called Logan first. She wanted to make sure he’d recovered from the party-gone-bad. He didn’t pick up. Was he working? After Logan was chosen to fight in the contest, his boss couldn’t possibly have thought he would come back to work…ever.
She left a vague message on his voicemail and then called Dawn. Dawn was such a phone-junkie, someday she’d be buried with it.
“How’s that head of yours?” Addison asked, happy to connect with someone from her ‘real’ life.
“Mild concussion. The department gave me three days off.” How generous of them. “What the hell happened with you?”
“A lot.”
“I mean with the Prime. First they say he can’t be there because he’s hurt, then you’re leaving, then he comes in totally fine and you’re with him. After a huge frigging PDA moment that juiced up every libido in the room, everything went to hell.” Metaphorically.
“Sounds like you pretty much got all of it.”
Dawn sighed in frustration. “What were you doing with the Prime?”
Their ‘relationship’ was out, so it couldn’t hurt to tell the truth, minus the dirty parts and the I’m-a-freak stuff. “Rhyse was the guy. The guy I found. It wasn’t a wannabe, it was him, but I couldn’t tell anyone. Someone tried to dust him but didn’t get it right. All I did was fix him up a little bit and, since he needed a date to the party, I went. Sorry I lied to you.”
“Did you feed him?”
“A little. It’
s complicated.” She needed out of this conversation. Nothing she could say was safe.
“Is he taking you right away, or do you get a couple days to finish things up first?”
Taking me? Well…she’d already been taken. Multiple times. And she’d probably be taken again a few more soon. “That’s complicated, too.”
“Are you his full-time or not?” Since when did Dawn speak in tongues?
“His full-time what?”
“Full-time toy.”
Addison flinched. “I’m not a toy.”
“If the Prime of North America wants you to be a toy, you’re a toy. You just get to stay somewhere nicer than the boxes.”
Oh shit, she hadn’t thought about it. If this…whatever it was with Rhyse continued, how would that work? She’d keep her place, wouldn’t she? Did she even get a choice? She didn’t want to be kept. They’d jumped over all intelligent and important discussions about ramifications or any kind of timeline, and gone straight to the fun stuff.
“I guess I’m not sure what I am,” she said.
Dawn dropped her voice to a whisper. “Listen, just because you saved him doesn’t mean he’s going to treat you well. They don’t work like that. If he gets rough, call me. We’ll figure something out.”
“He’s the Prime, Dawn. What could we possibly figure out?”
“Just…just let me know, okay?”
“Sure.” Addison didn’t bother asking about the Treaty fiasco or what rumors were going around. Primarily because most of them would probably be about her. After all, why focus on the beings who were murdered when you can gossip about who’s fucking who?
After they hung up, Addison thought about what Dawn had said. Someone couldn’t ‘figure something out’ if a vamp wasn’t treating them well. Sure, there were limits, which was why the box system was created and all the unsanctioned keeping of humans was outlawed. But seers couldn’t do anything as long as their treatment was within certain guidelines, and the guidelines were liberal. The Prime would be about as above the law as any being could get.
The only people who were fighting the rules were the rogue seers.
Holy shit, Dawn is rogue. Rogues weren’t organized. They were just random people with death wishes, and the only time anyone heard about them was when one died in a really, really horrible way. She could never let Rhyse or anyone else find out about Dawn. If they did, she and Dawn would be executed—no matter who they were dating. Dawn for being rogue, and Addison for aiding and abetting and a bunch of other stuff.
One more thing to worry about. One more friend who might die. One more thing she couldn’t stop from happening.
You idiot, Dawn. She slumped down to the floor, tucking her legs up and resting her forehead on them. Yes, a seer’s life sucked and things should change. But that was never going to happen. By working solo, the rogues made it too easy to kill them off one at a time.
Shit, why hadn’t any of them figured out they might actually stand a chance if they were organized? Seers had lived in fear for so long, they needed someone to lead them—proven by the group standing scared shitless in the middle of a battle zone until Addison got them moving. Without someone telling them what to do, to lead them out of danger, those idiots would’ve stayed there until the demons or the fire claimed them. What if she hadn’t been there to—?
Oh, shit. Someone to lead them out of danger...to freedom.
What was she thinking? In addition to being treasonous, it was also impossible and beyond stupid. Eventually somebody else would rant about the same things and come to the same conclusion, and Addison would wish them all the luck in the world…from far away.
She went downstairs and found Felicity crouched in front of the fireplace stacking some wood into a loose pile. She touched one of her thick bracelets and the wood caught fire.
“You’re a witch!”
Felicity spun around, her eyes wide. “Addison, I didn’t know you were down here.”
“Why can’t I feel you?” A witch’s power signature was far more subtle than a vampire’s, but Addison should’ve felt something. If she’d been paying attention, been on guard even a little bit. Damn it.
Felicity stood. “I’m still training, so my connection to magic is probably still too weak for you to feel.”
She said, “How interesting,” to cover her sigh of relief. Thankfully, witches were a lower race which meant their power, especially alone, was limited. So there was no chance a newbie like Felicity could read minds. “Rhyse knows, doesn’t he?” Of course he knew. He knew, like, almost everything. “Why are you a housekeeper if you’re a super?”
She laughed. “Because I like to eat. With a few exceptions, witches don’t gather crazy wealth like the higher races seem to. Since I’m not officially a witch yet, my life is basically human.”
Rhyse hired her, knowing she was a witch-in-training. Being a witch was hereditary, but since witches did magic and weren’t magic themselves like the mages, they used spells, talismans, and the power of the earth. Addison never thought about how they learned to do it, but a training program made sense.
“What kind of magic can you do?”
“We start with the elemental kind because it’s closer to the earth. So, in terms of practical magic, I can’t do much more than grow vegetables, set fire to kindling, and heat water.” That’s how she’d heated the bath water. Addison felt better about loving it so much now that she knew it hadn’t come at the expense of someone’s back.
She suddenly felt very awkward, without really having cause. She gave the cell phone back. “I made a call. Sorry. I’ll pay you whatever it cost times two.”
“Don’t worry about it—I have a decent plan. I’m just glad it works. Cell reception is really unpredictable up here.”
Everything seemed to be unpredictable up here.
Forty-six
“What did you find out?” Addison asked Rhyse as soon as he phased back. “Does anyone know about me?”
“I do not believe so, but it is too early to be sure.” Which basically meant the city wasn’t totally safe for her yet, but no one was printing up Wanted: Dead or Dead posters of her yet either.
Rhyse set her photo album and a large bag on the bed and looked at her expectantly.
“What’s that?”
“I looked in your apartment to know the kinds of things you enjoy, but you do not seem to enjoy jewelry, attractive clothing, or things in general. So I bought you books.”
“Oh, books are good. Thanks.” She started sorting them, a bit concerned that so many of them seemed like a sign he didn’t expect her to leave anytime soon.
He picked up a small wooden table and smashed it against the wall. She jolted backwards, eyes and mouth wide. But it didn’t seem like he was angry. At her or at the table.
“Why did you do that?” she yelled, using the blanket as a shield. “That thing probably cost more than I make in a year!”
“You need not worry about money any longer.” He picked up a shard about a foot long. “You need worry about me.”
She scooted up on the bed. “What does that mean?”
He set the piece of wood next to her. “This is protection. The servant will procure a few other items that, for obvious reasons, I cannot retrieve.”
“No church on Sundays for you, huh?”
“Or any other day.”
“Are you going to tell me why I need protection?”
“I should have thought of it sooner. We have been very fortunate thus far, but I almost nipped you at the Treaty celebration, and that was merely a kiss.”
“You’re giving me permission to stake you?”
“I am giving you permission to do what the would-be assassin did. Don’t miss.”
“Don’t bite.” She ran her tongue over her own canines. “You can’t keep those things tethered?”
He raised an eyebrow. “How much can you keep your nipples from tightening?”
“Not at all.”
“My answer i
s the same. It has never been necessary to keep them withdrawn before. I have tried very hard to be careful, but in moments of…distraction, it may happen regardless. We both know what happens when I ingest only a small amount of your blood.”
“Can’t you wear a retainer?”
“What is a retainer?” He held up his hand, stopping her from responding. “It does not matter. What matters is I believe you were making fun of me.”
“I believe you are right.”
“Do you know what would happen to anyone who dared make fun of the Prime? If it ever happened.” He crawled onto the bed, a very wicked look in his eyes.
She pulled her knees up to her chest. “You gonna throw me in the dungeon?”
“Of course not.” He ripped the blanket out of her hands. “But you will be punished.” He started at her toes, lips and tongue gliding up her leg torturously slow.
“Punished how?” Her voice betrayed her, warbly and weak with need. Even totally clenched, her leg muscles didn’t slow him down. He spread her knees apart and continued his chosen path up the inside of her thigh.
He punished her and punished her until she was begging him to stop. Or at least give her a little break.
She was never going to recover. Hours and hours of his attention. Not just sex, thank the powers, because that would’ve killed her. Rhyse never stopped touching her—kissing, massaging, bathing, feeding her. He made her feel like a goddess. Or a queen.
“You know, Rhyse, a girl could get used to this.”
“I hope she does,” he whispered.
“Stop…stop saying stuff like that. It weirds me out.”
He held her wrist, guiding it so her fingertips brushed his lips, capturing them with his teeth or tongue when he wasn’t speaking. “Well, I would not want to say anything that might ‘weird you out.’”
“How many other women have you kidnapped and brought here for nights like that?”
“None.”
Unseen (The Heights, Vol. 1) Page 23