Mated in Treason

by Christa Paige

  Resisting the impulse to punch Andros in his shit-talking puss grew harder by the millisecond. All the BS agitated his inner Viking and soon, he didn’t know if there’d be a way to fight back the urges.

  “You don’t have an Adak?” Ever concerned, Nadia’s nursing bedside manner extended all the way to the hospital exit. It endeared Gunnar, soothing the inner beast.

  “Depends,” Andros hedged. “Some of us share one. She’s kind of the village bicycle except, when she’s ridden, she’s also bitten.” He tossed his head back and laughed at his inane joke.

  Nadia moved behind Andros, her eagerness to be done with the task evident in the strain around her eyes and the lines across her forehead. “You need to feed. It’s taken a long time for your healing.”

  Anger bled into the male’s features. “Wasn’t like it was being offered while I was imprisoned in that hospital bed.”

  “Well, you are discharged now. Perhaps your Adak can assuage your needs.” She pushed the wheelchair brakes away from the rims. “I hope you can help us.” Nadia stared at Gunnar over Andros’ head, the look she sent him barreled straight to his heart. It was unguarded and full of emotion. He would make this happen for her. He would, damn it.

  Leaning over, he grabbed Andros by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. With a quick nod, he indicated that Nadia could leave. She did so quickly with only a brief glance over her shoulder as she entered through the double doors and vanished back into the hospital lobby. Gunnar turned his full attention to the weak male. Andros could barely stand, as Gunnar released him he swayed on his feet like a drunken sailor. “You’re fucked up.”

  “Starvation will do that,” Andros replied flippantly.

  Gunnar jabbed his hand into his pocket and withdrew his phone. “Who is she? I’ll have Karina send her over.”

  Andros tugged at his T-shirt. It hung on him and old blood stains marred the fabric. There was a distinct stain on his jeans, too. Pansy ass hadn’t had much fun when Traian introduced him to that nasty híbe of nerve manipulation. Looked like he’d been dressed in the rags he came in with. Not much better than a hospital jonnie.

  “Bettin’ you don’t needa call Karina. Since you’re on retainer for that asshole Komar, I’m going out on a limb and guessing you’ve got the number right there in your handy dandy Galaxy.”

  What the fuck was this moron spouting? “Why would I have the number of your host?” All he had was his own, Erica, and Gunnar would’ve known if she’d so much as slit her wrist for kicks. He wasn’t into sharing. Not his food. Not his blood source. And never, ever Nadia. Which left only one other number for an Adak. “Tory.” No way. The hell that would rain down from Traian Komar if he even remotely suspected his former blood host was offering her vein to the underbelly of the Kan Asma society would be torrential. Tray wouldn’t give a flying fuck if they were screwing her senseless now that he had his Bethany, but to know that during the time she’d been contracted as a host for him she’d been out offering her vein to every Tom, Dick, and Harry would infuriate him. If he didn’t want her head before, surely he would now.

  “Go ahead, call your boss; I’m sure you’re just itching to share the news.”

  There was amusement in Andros’ tone but also challenge. And testing. If Gunnar blew this, he blew all the chances he had with the male, thus ending any hope of mating in secret, or figuring out the details about the uprising, because, yeah, he also had a job to do as well. He had to tread lightly and be smart about how he reacted. “I’m sure she’s happy to be out from under such an autocratic patron.”

  “You still want to kill her for blowing up Komar’s place with you inside,” Andros jibed and Gunnar ground his molars together trying not to respond with violence.

  “Wouldn’t you.” Gunnar laughed and it sounded fake to his ears but hopefully Andros bought it. “She torched my favorite pair of jeans and my bottle of hundred-year-old Akvavit liquor exploded.”

  But, everything was slowly coming together. Now he knew where the little bitch got her explosives and the backing to actually do something so asinine. “She’s not dumb enough to think she’ll get to turn into a vampire for payment, is she?”

  The male shook his head. “She wants something bigger.”

  Andros was all but leaning his full meager weight on Gunnar. In a quick motion, he dragged the male to the bus route bench under the cover of the glass shelter. “And?” he prompted as he let the male’s weight drag him down into the cement bench.

  “She wants to wear a crown.” Andros ran a finger around his head from temple to forehead. “The crown.”

  “Like Aleksi’s coronet?” Gunnar asked only to hear the ridiculousness of Tory’s ulterior motive aloud.

  “In a roundabout way. As the mate of the new Komutani.”

  “And who would that be?” Gunnar didn’t bother to mask his incredulity.

  Andros wagged a finger as if to say “tsk tsk.” “I’m not that stupid.”

  Debatable.

  Gunnar waited.

  “Someone with a legitimate claim is all I’m saying.” Andros pushed to stand. “Now, time for something to drink.” He held out his hand. “Flash us to the Viper Room.”

  Right where he wanted to go an hour before sun up. Not.

  “What’s there?” Gunnar asked with mounting frustration.

  Andros shrugged. “Booze, babes, and food.”

  Gunnar crossed his arms over his chest, implacable and pissed off. He cocked an eyebrow. “Happy hour ended a few hours ago. Now, let’s get down to business. Where are we going?”

  Andros sat back and crossed a thin leg over his bony thigh. “Viper Room.”

  “Fucking asshole,” Gunnar muttered.

  “What do you want me to say? That the Faction you want to meet so bad, who can offer you a way to mate that lovely piece of ass, meets at the local Mason lodge? Or the bowling alley at Universal City Walk?” He plucked at the threads where a button used to be on his shirt. “There’ll be people at the club. People you want to meet. People who’ll be interested in your, ah, situation. And, I can get what I want, too. So to the Viper Room driver; carry on.”

  Gunnar choked back the curses zooming through his mind. He grabbed Andros by the upper arm and concentrated on the all black façade of the building on Sunset Avenue. He did nothing to contain the force of his abilities, loosening them faster than he did when he’d flashed Nadia. The strength of the teleportation scattered their atoms in a flash, and Gunnar accepted the burn as it raced through him from his feet to his head. In the next instant, everything faded to gray and all thoughts dimmed except one. This was for Nadia.

  For the both of them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Oh yeah, she’d gone and done it. Crazy and silly. Straight up human. In the white plastic pharmacy bag, now sitting on the passenger seat, were a couple frivolous items, like an absurdly expensive girlie razor with shaving cream and luxurious body butter, but the piece de resistance was the thick magazine tucked in between the heavy bottles. Bridal Today’s current issue boasted of elegant gown styles, vintage decorating tips and perfect hair coiffures for untamable locks.

  She was losing it.

  Of course, the Kan Asma mating rites had their own guidelines. They didn’t publish magazines with glossy photos of females in pretty gowns, articles on how to wear an heirloom embellished veil, and tips for hiding the intense fear of selecting the wrong goblet. They didn’t need it. Every female learned of the ritual as soon as they could walk. From there, they learned to fear the day they got summoned to meet the Kartal and be cut for the first time to give blood for the matching process. Nadia thought the humans had things much easier. Much prettier. She wanted that.

  It wasn’t just a lapse in her sanity that caused her to tuck that magazine into her shopping basket. Nope. It was the need for distraction. If she didn’t do something to keep her mind off Gunnar, and what Andros offered, she was going to implode. As she drove through the end of West Hollywood, t
o the older neighborhoods with the import cars and bungalow-style houses, she found herself scanning FOR SALE signs and imagining herself as the lady of the house. It would be different from her parents’ union. There wouldn’t be any vicious fighting or undisguised hatred. Instead, they’d enjoy their time together, eating home-cooked meals and laughing over some mindless sitcom. They’d sleep in the same bed with rumpled sheets and pillows askew from a delicious night of lovemaking. Ideal.

  Perfect.

  And, totally improbable.

  There were families who’d managed to find success in the mating roulette, selecting the perfect mate and finding love matches. Families that exuded affection. Even the Komars had a long history of finding the right mate and, most of the time, finding love through the rites and the genetic engineering. The others, though, simply existed. Nadia vowed to herself she’d never live a life like that, especially not an elongated one tied to someone she didn’t have any affection for. When she thought of the eligible males in her rank, most of them only stirred platonic feelings. None of them provoked her the way Gunnar did.

  Oh, Gunnar. She missed him. Was it even possible to miss someone who’d only been gone a few hours?

  She’d have to keep herself busy while she waited for him to give her an update. Getting her hopes up would only mean they’d be dashed if things didn’t work in their favor. But there was no stopping them. They rose with each little fanciful notion flitting in her mind.

  Her fleeting concentration almost ended up getting her into a fender bender as she drove the last few blocks to her home.

  Once she arrived, she went through the routine of parking and grabbing her stuff, entering through the sally-port and divesting herself of all the trappings, except the shopping bag. On light feet, she turned down the hallway, heading for the privacy of her bedroom. She was just about at the door when she recognized the first sign that something was off. Really off.

  Music filled the front of the house. Reedy melodies from the Abkhazian acharpyn flute twined with a deep percussion beat. A low chant with male tenors reverberated with the lyrics. The melody crested and fell only to repeat again. It was familiar bringing memories of her childhood to the forefront of her mind. Unlike now, life had been so simple before the invasion. Nadia blew out a tense breath, dumped the shopping bag onto the ground and turned on her heel heading toward the front room where the music originated. As she neared the end of the corridor, the low hum of voices mixed with the music. Laughter. Her mother’s manic tone full and boisterous only put Nadia further on edge. She stepped down into the room and scanned the area. Two of her mother’s closest friends sat on the small couch facing the high-backed chair where her mother perched holding court.

  There were wine flutes and a bottle of fairly expensive chardonnay, all of which were empty. Not good.

  She froze and took a step backward hoping to exit the room before being seen. But a couple strides back and it was too damned late, the three matrons all turned in unison and each of their faces lit up. Her mother’s shined the brightest capped off with a gregarious smile. “Nadia, it is great news.”

  Nadia crossed her arms over her chest bracing for the worst.

  “Just after midnight, I checked my email and imagine my great shock when there was a message in my inbox from Ivan Komar, the Kartal.”

  Oh God! Oh No! Nadia bit into the flesh of her cheek until coppery tinges of blood flooded her mouth. “What—” Her voice cracked and she swallowed down the burn of bile scorching up her throat. “What did he want?” Stupid question, Nadia groaned inwardly. There was only one thing her nan wanted from the Kartal and it was the exact opposite of Nadia’s wishes.

  Dalia stood, her body vibrating with elation. She reached out her hands and grasped Nadia by the upper arms almost shaking her. “Well, it wasn’t my exact expectation, dear, but it’s second best. He’s scheduled us a meeting tonight an hour after sunset. Karina has been messaging me about the specifics. After I informed him of your work with Traian’s subordinate, he could do no less than to bring us in. This is joyous news, darling. Superb. Once he sees you again and we have a nice conversation, he’ll surely set you up for a Goblet Ceremony.”

  Anger vibrated through Nadia’s body traveling down her spine in an arc of zinging pain. Cold trepidation prickled her skin. She jerked backward breaking her mother’s hold. “I can’t,” she blurted. Nadia trembled in dread. There was no recourse, no way to wiggle out of the situation. Ivan Komar issued an invitation and canceling on him did not happen. He summoned and you came. End of story. “I can’t see the Kartal. I’m not ready.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ve taken care of everything. We’ll go to the day spa after noon and get you looking your best. And, I’ve seen to your outfit as well.”

  Nadia’s head reeled. She had to find a way out of this but it looked unlikely. Maybe she could throw the meeting, irritate the Kartal so he put her on the bottom of the list.

  “I can imagine all the possible males he can match you with. This is so exciting. Finally, after all these years, you will be bonded.”

  Numb and overwhelmed, Nadia stumbled backward until she bumped into the couch. Her trembling legs gave out and she collapsed onto the springy cushion.

  “She’s white as a sheet.” The female made a commiserating sound in the back of her throat.

  “Don’t be so frightened Nadia, dear. My daughter made it through the meeting wonderfully. He’s a good male.” This one’s snide tone had more condescension than assurance.

  She’d met Ivan Komar. Good didn’t describe him in the least. And it wasn’t meeting him that scared her. There was no way she could explain to them about the dread simmering in her stomach. There was no way she could escape this meeting either. “Rock and a hard place” were currently squeezing the breath right out of her.

  “We must let her rest. This is important and we can’t be unprepared. I’ll see you tomorrow and I’ll share all the fabulous details.” Her mother paced with determined strides to the steps leading to the front door and motioned to her friends that they should leave. The expression on her face said, right now, which Nadia was grateful for. Somewhat. Without the matrons as a buffer, her nan would fuss and hover.

  Nadia pressed her palm to her forehead holding her aching skull with tight fingers. If she’d been mated to Gunnar, she’d be calling for him with her thoughts, needing that ephemeral link, finding solace in his cognizant presence though not physically nearby. Except, if she’d been mated to Gunnar, none of this would matter.

  Her mother’s cold fingers latched onto her wrist and tugged with surprising strength. “Go rest and I’ll wake you in time for our appointment at the spa.”

  The minute she closed her eyes, nightmares awaited. There’d be no rest. In a daze, she made her way to her room, slammed the door behind her and sprawled on the bed. The urge to call Gunnar, to warn him of the impending meeting, welled up inside her, but she fought it. He had enough to deal with right now. She could only hope Ivan found her lacking in some way and he put off her rite for a long, long time. Or at the very least put her on a waiting list for next spring.

  She tugged a pillow over her head and let out a frustrated wail. Maybe Gunnar had a better morning. Perhaps he found the information they needed and all this stress would be pointless. Yanking her phone from her pocket, she brought up the keyboard and typed a quick message. She tucked the phone beside her and curled into a fetal position letting the exhaustion tug her under.

  Though she dreaded it, sleep hovered on the periphery. In a few seconds, she succumbed to the fatigue and slumber claimed her.

  »»•««

  Gunnar’s phone vibrated in his back pocket and he set his beer aside, retrieved the Galaxy and swiped the passcode. A smile tugged at his mouth as he read who’d sent him a text. Short and sweet, Nadia had inquired about the meeting with Andros and hoped he’d made it home before sun up. It was endearing. Totally Nadia.

  He hated to ruin that with the lack o
f news he’d accumulated through the hours of sitting on his ass at the bar waiting for a whole lot of nothing to happen. So far, he’d watched Andros feed from a human college student, a Kan Asma Adak Gunnar had never met before and a smorgasbord off the menu. Then, after imbibing several shots of cheap liquor, the asshole took up dancing with the remaining stripper who had a great deal of feathers, rhinestones, and glitter while in drag. The whole thing would be comical if Gunnar didn’t have a pressing matter. Finding the leader of this uprising was important, too, but so far, zip.

  He rambled off a quick text assuring Nadia he was working hard at finding what they both wanted and he added that he’d made it home safe, which was a bunch of bullshit but she didn’t need to be sitting there worried about him. He’d fill her in later about all the details he managed to dig up, providing he found some, and that way she had no need to stay awake concerned for his wellbeing.

  “Ready to close your tab?” A bartender stood on the opposite side of the shiny black lacquer bar. Gunnar pushed his phone into his pocket and glanced at the man wondering how much overtime he amassed serving vampires after hours.

  Deep sea green eyes met his. A close shaved beard on a prominent jaw did nothing to dim the shit-eating grin tugging at dusky lips. Dimples and severe cheekbones boasted of a foreign nationality. The accent registered as recognition dawned on Gunnar. “Ah fuck, not you.” Things just went from bad to worse.

  “Gee, Nakani. I’m hurt.”

  Gunnar kept his yap shut. All sorts of emotions zinged through him at the sight of the male standing on the other side of the bar. This male had been instrumental in the loss of many lives during the invasion. While every impulse in his body screamed to launch over the bar, grab the traitor by the throat and shake until his head was liberated from his body, Gunnar had to remain sitting on that hard stool and play out this ruse. God it took a ton of effort. “Iskander, never thought I’d see you on American soil. Or tending bar. What, did you get tired of betraying your kin, come back from the dead and hop on a plane to come see the sites? Maybe hit Disneyland?” Gunnar grabbed his drink instead of Iskander’s throat and sucked down the last few drops of his beer. He tapped the rim. “How ’bout one on the house?”