by Virna DePaul
Despite the progress he and his team had made, the fragile peace that had ended the Second Civil War and given the nation hope was beginning to splinter.
It was bad enough that each Otherborn race fought against each other and with humans. What more if shape-shifters—creatures that could disguise themselves to look like any individual, human or Otherborn—were fighting among themselves and methodically killing each other off? Even worse, Mahone knew shape-shifters didn’t worship Satan as a general rule, yet the murders seemed linked to rituals designed to channel spirits from the Otherworld back to earth. When he’d first got wind of the rituals, Mahone had actually tried getting in touch with Essenia. For once, however, the Goddess had remained stubbornly quiet. He was trying to take that as a good sign.
One thing was certain. If Walker wasn’t going to look into the matter, Mahone would. He needed to get the Para-Ops team assembled. He also needed to get Knox and Felicia back on board. That meant somehow alleviating Knox’s very real and understandable concerns about the threat the Quorum posed to Felicia. As impossible as this latter task seemed, he needed to accomplish it fast.
His phone rang. Automatically, he thought about the Goddess, which was ridiculous. Essenia liked to throw down her threats in person so she could see and not just hear how freaked out he got.
Bitch, he thought as he sat in his desk chair and answered the phone. But even he recognized he felt more exasperated than hostile. “This is Kyle Mahone.”
“I was told you’re in charge of the Para-Ops team. Is that true?”
The feminine voice on the other line was low and smooth. Cultured. He could tell the speaker wasn’t American. She sounded vaguely European. French?
“Who am I talking to?” he asked.
“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ve met your team and I have the highest respect for them. However, based on our interaction, it’s apparent you could use some help with Otherborn intel. That happens to be a specialty of mine.”
Mahone leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The female’s voice sounded slightly like Bianca, Knox Devereaux’s royal vampire mother, the vampire queen Mahone had once loved and lost. C’est la vie, right? “And what makes you think we need your help?” he asked.
“I gave your team several leads. Information about wraiths, as well as the felines.”
Ah, Mahone, thought, sitting back in his chair. This must be the mysterious vampire O’Flare had told him about. Knox had never heard of her, and Mahone’s people were at this very moment trying to find out everything they could about her but having little luck. Obviously, she was right. He did need better intel about Otherborn if he couldn’t even get a handle on one vampire. “Too bad you didn’t get in touch with us before I flew my team to L.A. You could have saved us a lot of trouble,” he said lightly.
“I’m happy to save you trouble in the future,” she replied. “In fact, I’m hoping we can help each other.”
Of course you are. “So you’re willing to barter information for—” Recalling his recent conversation with Walker, he sat up straight. “Tell me,” he said, “Do you know much about the shape-shifter race? Those in Europe, perhaps?” Technically, the FBI didn’t have jurisdiction overseas. His special agents had absolutely no authority to work over there. But that didn’t mean certain independent contractors—like those on the Para-Ops team, for example—couldn’t decide to do a little work on their own. He suspected none of his team members would balk at the concept of plausible deniability. It was one reason he’d chosen them.
“I’m willing to share my information with you, Mahone. About the shape-shifters and other races. The weres. The mages. The question is how much you’re willing to pay for it.”
His mouth tightened and an odd sense of disappointment washed through him. For some reason, he’d expected better of the vamp. “So this is about money then?”
He heard the female sigh with what almost sounded like regret. “Oui, it’s about money. A whole lot of money, in fact. But only because the money is necessary to achieve something important. Something that if I can accomplish, you’ll be very, very interested in. Whether I share it with you will depend on what happens next.”
“Tell me more.”
“I will. But first, tell me everything you know about Dex Hunt.”
CHAPTER THREE
Jes spotted the diner she was looking for a couple of blocks ahead of her and deliberately slowed her pace. She also placed her hands in her coat pockets, not because of the slight evening breeze but because it would make her look even more laid back.
She didn’t actually feel that way, of course.
After her close call with Dex outside her hotel last night, her blood still zipped with excitement. Unfortunately, she was also feeling anxious and uncertain when she needed every drop of confidence she could muster to do what was necessary. She couldn’t deny, however, that when it came to deceiving Dex, her resolve was splintering.
Oh she’d talked to Mahone anyway. Set things in motion. She’d even arranged to meet Rurik Pitts, one of Dex’s former pack brothers, at a nearby diner to learn more about Dex.
Yet she was torn between duty, and her desire and respect for Dex. Bottom line, she liked him. And she wanted him.
She wanted to explore the sexual sparks that flared to life whenever he was near, even if that’s all it ever was.
She wanted, for once in her life, to do something simply because it made her feel good. Because it made her feel alive for the first time in almost one hundred years of living.
But she couldn’t.
As a child, she’d watched as her parents were murdered, and later had witnessed over and over again as members of her adoptive Draci family died. It was just her luck Bodin of Hammersham had saved her only to put her in the care of dragon-shifters whose life span lasted thirty years.
Did that mean she had to spend the rest of eternity standing by and doing nothing while those she loved continued to die?
Non. Absolument non. Absolutely not.
She was a scientist, for Goddesses’s sake, one who’d spent years acquiring the skills and the information that might, someday, somehow, be able to keep someone she loved from leaving her again. Maybe she’d even discover something soon enough that she could save Bodin, who was coming to the end of his own life cycle. Each day, Bodin was weakening. So was the peace between the Draci and their natural enemies, the European were-packs.
There was only one problem: Dex could be the answer to all her prayers, but he had every reason to hate Bodin and no incentive to help the Draci or her.
Maybe he’d turn out to be her white knight anyway.
Mentally playing back her thoughts, she shook her head.
Might.
Someday.
Somehow.
Maybe.
When had equivocation become a mainstay of her mental thoughts?
Maybe since the day she’d first heard about the Legend of Wolves. Maybe equivocation had grown as over the years she’d put together the bits and pieces of information that had finally led her to Dex. Bodin’s grandson. The one rumored to fulfill the legend. The one who could gift immortality, although no one knew quite how.
It was up to Jes to find out if it was true. And if it was true, how it was possible.
If it was possible.
Was she simply fooling herself? Was she so desperate to save Bodin and her Draci family that she actually believed she could prolong life through manipulating DNA and duplicating the effects of vampire regeneration? After all, she’d fooled herself about someday being able to have a baby—her body just wouldn’t carry a fetus to term—so why not this, too?
These were questions she asked herself daily, right along with whether she should even be trying to further her current goal—not to have a baby, of course, since that was now impossible, but to prevent anyone else she loved from dying. Prolonging life through healing illness was one thing, but prolonging individual life spans through science was unnatural,
wasn’t it?
With Herculean effort, Jes pushed aside her troublesome thoughts. Rita, the old Draci seer who’d lived decades longer than she was supposed to, had often told her that knowledge in and of itself was never a bad thing—what she chose to do with that knowledge was something she could decide if it ever became an issue.
Although Kyle Mahone had been willing to exchange money for the information she could provide him, he’d claimed ignorance of Dex Hunt’s medical history. Jes hadn’t believed him, but it hadn’t mattered. As she’d told Mahone, she was an expert when it came to ferreting out information.
Having reached the diner, Jes pulled open the door and stepped inside. Immediately, she spotted a big, mangy werebeast sitting in a back booth. She made her way toward him, jerking to a halt when a young boy darted in front of her. To her shock, he raced behind her and grabbed hold of her leg.
A couple was hot on his trail. The human male looked completely pissed. There was a female beside him, a pretty feline with a soft and gentle face who nibbled her lip and blinked rapidly to stem her tears.
Instinctively, Jes reached behind her and laid a reassuring hand on the boy’s head. Then she peeked into the mind of the angry-looking male.
This was his son. He loved him. But he loved the feline, too, and desperately wanted them to get along.
The human glanced apologetically at her then addressed the boy through gritted teeth. "Give your new stepmom a hug, Eric. Now.”
“It’s fine, Greg—” the feline began.
“No. It’s not. You’ve been trying so hard and it’s your birthday. It’s the least Eric can do.”
“But—”
“Now, Eric,” Greg insisted.
Jes twisted and looked back and down.
Eric glared, then shrunk back and dug his fingers deeper into Jes’s leg. He met her gaze. “She’s not my mother,” he warbled, clearly fighting back his own tears. “She’ll never be my mother.”
No, Jes thought, tugging information from his mind. No one could ever replace the mother who’d died of cancer several years earlier. Just like no one had been able to replace Jes’s mother or father, no matter how hard they’d tried.
For a horrible moment, the memories barreled down on her. Fear. Pain. Loss. An illogical feeling of abandonment.
Her parents had left her. It hadn’t been their choice, but they’d still left. Everyone left her.
The walls of the restaurant blurred and a haze darkened the room. Jes’s breath seized somewhere impossibly deep in her throat. A roar built in her ears, and the walls and booths of the diner fell away until all she saw was the boy and his fear.
She’d felt that fear. So had Dex, she realized. Never mind that Bodin had been trying to protect Dex by sending him away to the were orphanage. Dex had felt the loss of love. Of family.
They’d both lost love early, but at least Jes had been loved by others. Had Dex? Had he ever had the chance? Had he ever let someone truly love him?
It struck her then, how desperately she wanted him to be loved. How desperately she wanted to be the one to love him.
What a strange thought. She barely knew him. To her scientific mind, love at first sight was impossible.
A foolish dream.
Jes dealt with reality not dreams. So she focused on the facts.
She and Dex had lost family, but they’d both survived.
So would this boy.
Deliberately, she pushed back her sorrow until the world slowly came back into focus. She patted his head and pretended to check out his stepmom, raking her gaze up and down the feline’s body. She pasted a playful grin on her face and knelt down. “Do you know what I am?” she asked, letting the tip of a fang show and deliberately flicking her silver hair.
“You’re a vampire,” the boy said.
“Right. So I can sense things others can’t. And I always tell the truth. Your stepmom? She looks okay to me. And I can sense how much she loves you,” she whispered. “Give her a chance.”
The boy stared at her with a furrowed brow, glanced at his stepmother, then glanced back at Jes. Slowly, the sharp peaks of his shoulder blades relaxed. Hesitantly, he released Jes’s leg and stepped around her.
His parents stared at her.
“Thank you,” the feline said. “My name is Lisa.” She turned to Eric and knelt down to his level the way Jes had. “It’s okay. You don’t have to give me a hug, Eric. But would you mind—would you mind if I gave you one?”
Eric glanced at all of them in succession. His father. Jes. Then Lisa.
He nodded.
As Lisa enfolded him in her arms, Jes couldn’t help noticing Eric’s small arms hugging her back. Taking a lurching breath, she made her way to a smirking Rurik Pitts.
Twenty minutes later, she cocked a brow at the big werebeast. “So Dex Hunt is what? Some kind of medical miracle?” she asked, lacing her tone with disbelief despite the fact she believed every word she said.
Pitts frowned. “I’m telling you, Dex was healthier than anyone I’ve ever met. He never got sick. Never. There’s something unnatural about him.”
“But you were only around him for what? Five years? For all you know, he was sick before and afterwards,” she drawled, choosing her words very carefully to play devil’s advocate and still speak the truth. Because of her vampire blood, Jesmina couldn’t lie. Of course, over the years, she’d discovered there were ways around that, but nothing she was willing to undergo, not when it was just as easy to manipulate people by what one said or didn’t say.
Inside, however, it was more difficult for her to remain composed. Excitement thrummed through her. Pitts was on to something. Everything he’d told her merely confirmed what she suspected about Dex.
Protect the one who can gift immortality.
Cast him out before you let him be found.
The Draci believed Bodin had cast out his grandson in order to protect him. Before she’d died, Rita had pounded that belief into Jes, telling her time and again of her duty to discover the truth.
If the legend was true, Dex wasn’t natural. More like supernatural.
Comprised of the stuff of legends.
But the werebeast leaning back in his booth seat didn’t know that. He stared at her as if she was an idiot. Jes took advantage of the extra few inches of space and breathed in shallowly. Not only was he arrogant and condescending, but he was extremely unkempt. Thankfully, she knew from experience that not all werebeasts smelled so bad. In fact, Dex Hunt had smelled très…délicieux.
Even in the packed nightclub that reeked of sweat, alcohol, sex, and drugs, his scent had called to her just as powerfully as if someone had held a glass of pure immaculate blood to her nose. The same thing had happened last night when he’d confronted her outside her hotel. And it had happened again when he’d lost control and pushed her back into the elevator, ready to take what she’d previously offered him.
When Lucy had shown up, it had taken even more self-control than she’d ever thought she’d need to keep herself from taking a bite out of him. She—who’d never once drank from a male during sex and who drank blood like clockwork, thus rarely experiencing blood lust—still felt it that night. Her skin had been rippling with desire ever since, and this unkempt were’s words only further fueled her determination to see Dex again.
“Listen, sweet cheeks, Dex and I rode together for six years, five of those during the War. We weren’t exactly staying in luxury accommodations during that time, either. The Ferals are tough, we keep tough company, and we’re a hearty race, but no matter what shit holes we stayed in or what disease-infested company we kept, Dex was the only one of us who didn’t end up puking his guts out or oozing puss at one time or another.” He smirked, as if he really thought talk of oozing puss would intimidate or sicken her. “What do you care about Dex’s health anyway?”
“It’s not just his health I care about,” she said. “I told you, I have a business proposition for him, and a smart negotiator never goes into
a deal unarmed.”
Again, all true. She just didn’t know if she’d actually make Dex the business offer she had in mind. She couldn’t know until she got him alone and had a chance to read his mind again—this time when he wasn’t blocking her powers with the gold charm Mahone said he carried.
“He works for the FBI now,” she reminded the werebeast. “He’s got a pretty good thing going with them. Luring him away won’t be easy.”
“But you’ll do what you need to in order to do it, right?” Rising, Pitts planted his palms on the table and leaned toward her until his ghastly smell made her eyes water. The way he said “it” made it apparent he thought she’d willingly use her body to sway Dex’s mind.
She didn’t take offense, since he was right.
“So who told you he has a thing for vamps?” he asked.
She raised a brow, which made him bust up laughing. Her heart fluttered, then clenched. That was information she didn’t have before. Dex was attracted to her, but was it only because she was the right race? One of a handful—and who knew how large those handfuls had been—of vampires he’d wanted?
“Oh come on. You didn’t know?” He sat down again, still chuckling. “Well, looks like you’ve got an edge then, sweet cheeks. Dex never could resist your breed’s silver hair—kind of ironic, given silver is our weakness, don’t you think?”
But only when in wolf form, she recalled.
He glanced insultingly at her chest. “I like my females with bigger tits, of course, but there’s no accounting for taste.” He threw back the last of his beer before standing. “We done here?”
“Quite done,” she said, barely refraining from slugging the asshole. She slid an envelope toward him.
He grabbed it, peeked inside, and grinned. He was almost to the restaurant’s outer door before he turned back. “You remember what I told you about my brother, don’t you?”
Pitts had told her Dex had killed his “brother,” another Feral member. Slowly. Tortuously. And that he’d left the gang immediately afterward. “Murder isn’t something I’m likely to forget.” Even as she said the words, terrible images of two specific murders flashed through her mind. Two vampires bound just feet from her. Her parents. Left to burn in the sun.