Pallas: Vampire Romance (Vanguard Elite Book 5)

by Annie Nicholas

  “We move.” Pallas didn’t need to be the mouse to hear Leona call out Agent Thomas. That woman had T-Rex sized balls and they were going to get her killed.

  Agent Thomas wasn’t playing with a full deck. He seemed hell-bent on capturing or killing Pallas, guilty or not.

  Ian kept close, cocking his head as if asking Pallas a question.

  “I don’t have a plan yet.” Pallas ran his hand over his face as he marched along the edge of the forest.

  Leona strode toward the caged wolves. She tried to hide her limp. “You can’t just capture shifters. This is pack land. They have the right to roam here in wolf form,” she shouted at the Homeland guards outside the building.

  They exchanged looks, rifles half raised as if unsure what to do next.

  “Where is your commanding officer?” Leona said her hands on her hips. She radiated dominance. She might not be a shifter but she had the soul of an alpha wolf. No wonder she tugged at his heart.

  “Right here.” Agent Thomas came out of Pallas’ home, gun cocked and aimed at Leona’s head.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Fear a tattoo against her ribs, Leona stared down the barrel of Thomas’ gun. Maybe she had misjudged the situation? Or how desperately Thomas wanted Pallas. She wanted to keep him herself.

  “Take it easy, Agent.” She raised her hands. “We’re on the same side, remember?”

  “Last I saw you, you were dying.” He pulled out his wooden stake. “You’re looking a little pale there, Sheriff Lee.”

  One of her officers gasped behind her.

  If she didn’t have a gun pointed at her head, she might have laughed. Thomas thought she was a vampire. A bullet hole in her head wouldn’t kill a vamp, but it sure would end her life. She couldn’t afford to prove Thomas wrong. No matter how much she wanted to cut him off at the knees.

  Agent Gillipsie stepped out of the house, face flushed. “What the fuck is going on here?”

  “I think Thomas would like you to come make sure I have a pulse.” She offered Gillipsie her wrist. “So would I, before one of his men shoots me again.”

  “That was an accident.” Thomas’ hand trembled, making his gun shake.

  “What does she mean?” The other top agent crept toward her.

  “Thomas’ men shot at me last night when he found me at the crime scene.” She omitted the wound was fatal since she couldn’t explain how she was still alive without giving away Pallas’ secret. “Look at my jacket.” The bullet hole was obvious.

  Gillipsie took her pulse. “She’s human, Thomas. Put down your weapon.”

  “And how did she live?” Thomas looked puzzled, yet still held her at gunpoint.

  “Look at my fucking face, dick for brains.” So tact wasn’t her strong suit. “If I was the undead, do you think I’d develop black eyes?”

  “She was with the vampire at the crime scene. They’re in this together.” Thomas’ eyes darted to the officers behind her.

  She could hear their footsteps crunching on the snow as they gathered closer to her. “We found the real killer. He’s a local with a grudge against Pallas. A troublemaker. You’re hunting the wrong person.”

  “Put down—” Gillipsie tried to step between her and Thomas’ gun but the other agent kept her in his sight.

  The gun went off.

  She flinched, surprised that her brains were not covering Gillipsie’s jacket. She scanned her men but they seemed intact. Spinning around, she finally found Thomas’ target.

  Pallas clutched his hands to his chest, eyes scrunched in discomfort. He had been coming around the barn. “I surrender,” he whispered.

  “I said he was innocent.” She ran to her lover’s side and slipped her shoulder under his arm.

  “Damn, that burns.” He fingered one of his wounds.

  She slapped his hand away. “Don’t play with it.” She applied pressure to the wounds to slow the bleeding, then noticed there was little blood.

  He leaned close. “Causing a distraction,” he whispered in her ear. His gaze raked over her face as if memorizing every shade of red and purple. “That’s a new look for you. I thought you said you could handle Harold.”

  “He drugged me.” All of her senses were on high alert. A distraction? From what? She couldn’t very well ask him in front of everyone, but it was working. All eyes were focused on them.

  Gillipsie unarmed Thomas. “This is not how we do things. Take him back to the office.” He gestured to some of the Homeland guards. “Where are the wolves?”

  Her gaze followed Gillipsie’s wild gestures as he stormed toward the empty cage.

  “Did you know that I teach my wolves how to pick locks?” Pallas ran a gentle thumb under her swelling eyes.

  She sighed. “I don’t think I want to know what you teach here.” No good would come of a story leaking about Pallas instructing werewolves how to fight. Or pick locks. The less she knew, the safer he would be. For now.

  “You have the proof to set me free?”

  “Yes, but Harold got away.” She didn’t like that smile on Pallas’ face. “Stay out of this. Let us do our job. We’ll catch him.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  “Can someone please tell me what is going on?” Gillipsie tossed his hands in the air.

  Leona hid her flinch of pain very well as she stood to face the Homeland agents, but Pallas caught the small downturn of her lips and a slight gasp in her breath.

  Harold would pay dearly.

  Pallas could have forgiven Harold for framing him with murder. Greater men than he had hated him. But this? The bruises, the inner scar Leona would carry from now on when entering a strange home alone. Would she learn to trust her people again? Pallas wouldn’t forgive this.

  With a little effort, Pallas joined her. They were a good wounded match, facing a small armed force.

  She woved her fingers with his. “We have a lot to discuss, Agent Gillipsie. Let’s take this down to the station.” She waved him to the vehicles parked all over the property. Twisting, she caught Pallas’ attention. “Come along.”

  “I have the wolves to gather. They are cold, hungry, and scared. It’s time for them to come home.”

  “We need to address the open charges against you so the department can start the process of dropping them.”

  “I will. Tomorrow. Pack first.”

  It didn’t take long for Homeland to vacate his property. They left their fucking cage to mar his lawn. He scratched his chin while staring at the monstrosity. Well, he could always use it as a punishment. Some wolves just needed more incentive.

  Leona was the last to leave. Before going, she raised up on tiptoe for a slow and deep kiss. Her lips soft and warm and full of promises. “You’re a good man.”

  He snorted. “You should go to the hospital and get checked. He obviously gave you a head injury.” He hadn’t a single good thought in his mind at the moment.

  She searched his gaze. “I know evil when I see it. You might have been once but not now.” She kissed him quickly again. “Go tend your wolves and I’ll go tend mine.”

  He gave her a slow blink. Never once had he ever wished to be human until now. “I’ll see you again?”

  She winked. “It’s a small town. Not too many places for you to hide.” She climbed into her cruiser and left.

  Snow flew in her wake and he waited until it settled before opening his barn door. The captured wolves, with Ian in human form, stared back at him.

  The alpha shivered, naked in the cold. “Can I get some fucking clothes now before my outtie becomes an innie?”

  “They’re all gone. Nice work on moving silently.”

  Ian rushed into the manor while the others shifted shape. Clare and her group returned from the woods.

  Pallas knelt and scratched her ear absentmindedly. “You can bring everyone home now. The sheriff found evidence to prove my innocence.”

  She yipped and took off with her small group to fetch the rest of the shifters home.r />
  That left him one last task.

  If he was a sniveling, coward killer, where would he hide? When the police were searching for him, he had stayed in the police station attic. The last place they expected. He hated to admit that Harold was smart. If not for Ian’s nose, Harold’s plan had almost worked.

  Pallas systematically searched the town. Looking into every nook and cranny. Careful not to be seen. Not too difficult since it was so late. Time was on Harold’s side. When the sun rose, he only had to worry about the human authorities. Harold could escape Pallas in those hours of light. Tonight would be Pallas’ only chance.

  The thrill of the hunt sang in his blood. When he’d awakened, Daedalus had explained the rules of this new world. Vampires didn’t kill to feed. That was the law. They had to seduce their meals. With a face like his, he would starve. Bagged blood was another option and suited his physical needs, not the primal ones. There was a loophole. The vampire council gave the Nosferatu permission to hunt evildoers. The ones no one would miss. Living in Alberg had narrowed that option to nil until tonight.

  He cracked his knuckles. Unfortunately, he was fucking it up. Clare had a saying that seemed appropriate. If you don’t use it, you lose it. Pallas blew out a frustrated breath. His hunting skills were rusty. Harold was not in or around his home, church, or hospital. The police station was too busy with Homeland having a fit and the press taking statements.

  They loved Leona’s battered face and she would be America’s sweetheart by morning.

  The bus station, library, schools, gas stations…Pallas was a hair’s width from collecting Ian at the manor to help him sniff for a trail. On the edge of his property, he spotted a flicker of light in the woods by the crime scene.

  Fucking police still treading on his land. Enough was enough. They had collected samples of whatever. He was innocent. Time for them to go. Storming through the snow, he halted when he came upon a campfire.

  So, not the police.

  He didn’t move as he listened to the forest. The best place for Harold to hide? On Pallas’ land. The vampire he tried to frame. Pallas bared his fangs as a distant sound of footsteps reached his ears. The coward was running.

  What was he expecting from a man who drugged his victims? Pallas followed the sound, reached out with his mind, latching onto Harold’s thoughts. He wouldn’t escape him now.

  Pallas had him. The beat of Harold’s racing heart sang to Pallas’ soul. Calling for him to follow and he did.

  Slow at first.

  Silent.

  Letting the dark drape him with her veil.

  Harold stumbled in the deep snow. The area untouched by anyone since fall.

  Pallas twisted in a slow circle to get his bearings. This was actually the spot where he had found Ian shot and unconscious, left to bleed to death by this idiot.

  With purpose, he stepped on a dry branch sticking out of the snow. Its snap echoed in the night.

  Harold’s startled cry followed.

  The sound gave Pallas much satisfaction.

  Harold’s steps grew more frantic.

  Pallas whispered his name.

  “Who—who’s there?” He pulled out a handgun. “I’m armed.”

  “You know who it is and guns don’t scare me.”

  Harold shot blindly into the woods. He swung the weapon around erratically and shot again. “Stay away.”

  “I didn’t pick this fight, Harold. You did, months ago when you shot a scared, young wolf shifter and left him to die.” Pallas stepped behind Harold and plucked the gun from his hands.

  He screamed.

  “I should have killed you then. My mistake.” Pallas grinned. “Let me fix that.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The manor was quiet when Pallas arrived home. Sleeping shifters with full stomachs filled the rooms on the upper floors. The distant sound of their snores reached his ears. He picked a piece of Harold out of his teeth as he descended into his basement sanctuary. The stench of Homeland agents still clung to everything.

  They probably had gone through all his things. He wished he could have seen Gillipsie’s face when he found all the empty folders in his filing cabinet and that his laptop only held card games. He wasn’t sure what Daedalus expected him to do with all the office equipment he’d sent when he first purchased this property. When he trained wolves in the past, he hadn’t owned a brick.

  At the bottom step, he halted. Someone had just turned off his shower. If he found a Homeland agent in his bedroom, he was going to have dessert. Screw Daedalus and his rules. He reached his room as the bathroom door opened.

  Leona exited, toweling her long hair. She gave him a pleased smile. “You’re back. The alphas said you wouldn’t mind me using your shower. Something about the only one with hot water?” She tugged on the hem of the T-shirt she wore. His shirt. “Hope you don’t mind me borrowing this. I needed something clean to wear.”

  His mouth went dry. “I wasn’t expecting you.” He had never had guests. The wolves weren’t allowed past his office. Prior to the manor, he never owned a bedroom.

  “Do you want me to go?”

  “No.” He almost shouted. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m just surprised.” He chuckled. “Pleasantly surprised.”

  “What were you doing? It’s almost dawn.” She sat on the edge of his bed, brushing her hair. Where had she found a brush?

  A lie came to his lips about checking his borders but he didn’t verbalize it. This thing between Leona and himself was fragile and beautiful. Lies would shatter their growing bond. He pulled up a dressing chair and took a seat. Mulling the truth. That could destroy everything.

  She set aside the brush. “I don’t like this serious look on your face.”

  He cleared his throat, he needed her to accept him for who and what he was. That he wasn’t a human with sharp teeth.

  “Pallas, spit it out. You’ve never minced words before.”

  He leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at his boots. “I found Harold.”

  “Oh.” The word slipped between her lips in an exhale. “And?”

  He glanced up at her. “I had him for dinner.”

  She pursed her lips as if in deep thought. “You said your blood came from bags. That you didn’t kill people for food.”

  “Normally, I don’t.” He jumped to his feet and paced the room. “He was a murderer and no one will miss him.” He ground his teeth. “He hurt you. That’s just not acceptable. You can’t expect me not to do anything.”

  She rested her head in her hands. “I just spent days proving you weren’t a murderer.”

  “No.” He crossed his arms. “But I didn’t kill Bob. There’s a distinction.”

  She jerked her head up. “Which is?”

  “I don’t kill innocent people. I probably wouldn’t have gone after Harold, but he crossed a line by laying hands on you.” He shrugged and stepped aside so she’d have a clear path to the exit. “I won’t stop you from leaving, but I can’t change what I am.”

  “You want me to leave?” She sounded heartbroken.

  “Never. I just assumed you wouldn’t want to stay.”

  They stared at each other. The silence grew heavy.

  “Will someone find his body?”

  He scoffed.

  “I’m not as bothered by this as much as I thought I’d be.” She rose and crossed his bedroom, laying her hands on his chest. “Harold threatened revenge on both of us. That we’d always have to keep a lookout for him. I wouldn’t want to live that way.”

  A growl rolled from his throat. He wanted to kill Harold all over again.

  She gave him a push, sitting him back on a chair, and she straddled his hips. “I do like that you want to protect me.”

  He noted the bruises on her knees that matched her face. “I didn’t do a good job.” With a sharp fang, he bit into his thumb and offered her a bead of his blood so she could heal. He couldn’t deny her anything.

  She shook her head. “
There will be questions I can’t answer if I show up to work tomorrow with no black eyes.”

  “I think the bruises are sexy.”

  “I’m glad.” She pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the bed. “Now that I’m not freezing my ass off. I plan on taking my time torturing you.” She ran her nails over his abs until she reached the fastenings of his jeans. “I’ve always had a thing for bad boys.”

  “I can be bad.” He’d lived close to half a millennium, developed iron control over his primal side, but he could have no more resisted the demanding invitation in his sheriff’s eyes than he could’ve given up his need for blood. “What would you do with me?”

  She unsnapped the top button on his pants, her long fingers strikingly delicate against the rough fabric of his dirty jeans. “Naughty things.” A single slow stroke along the outline of his cock.

  He let out a breath he’d been holding and gripped the chair arms tighter. He didn’t want to stop her, this woman who played with him. “Be gentle with me.”

  She shot him a delighted grin, full of mischief. “I won’t bite.” Pressure on his aroused flesh grew as she molded her hand along him. “Unlike someone I know.”

  His abdomen clenched. “Don’t tempt me.” He’d had his fill by draining Harold but just a taste of Leona… He shuddered.

  Leaning forward, she pressed wet kisses below his navel as she undid his zipper.

  His hips jerked, the wood of the chair creaked. A growl rumbled low in his chest and he startled at the shifter-ish noise.

  “You don’t scare me.” She exposed his tip.

  “Nothing scares you. Not even ancient vampires with a biting fetish.” And apparently some latent shifter traits that she inspired. “On the edge of losing control.”

  She tongued the flushed exposed head of his cock. It took all of his inner strength to remain still. This beautiful woman wanted him of her own free will. Even knowing the truth of his real nature.

  She pulled at his pants, helping to slip them off his hips and down around his ankles. Dipping her head, she traced the pulsing vein that ran along the thick line of his arousal.