Fallen Prey: A Fallen Cross Legion Novel (The Fallen Cross Legion Book 1)

by Aliya DalRae

  What she saw was terrifying. Six Vampire Warriors and Nox all stared at her from around the room. Nox at least gave off a friendly vibe, but then again, they had history. She noted that the leather patch over the eye she’d ruined did nothing to detract from that gorgeous face of his. When he winked at her it helped to calm her nerves and reassure her that bygones were, indeed, bygones. At least she thought he winked.

  Harrier reached under the table and squeezed her hand. That one touch only proved to heighten her anxiety. She pulled out of his grasp and folded her arms on the table, doing her best to act like this was the sort of thing she did all the time.

  “Thank you for joining us, Kythryn. My name is Mason, and I’m…”

  “The Warlord. Yeah, I heard of you. Didn’t seem like I had much of a choice, though.”

  Harrier kicked her under the table. Kythryn scowled but muttered, “Sorry,” under her breath.

  Mason, oddly the scariest of the bunch despite his GQ good looks and button-down shirt, ignored both her comment and apology. “What can you tell us about something called the fur farm?”

  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as little worms of dread wriggled down her spine. Forgetting her decision to distance herself from the Vampire, she glanced at Harrier. He nodded for her to answer, but her throat had gone dry.

  When she looked back at Mason, his eyes had lit up and were shining with silver light. “Do you know this place, Kythryn?”

  All she could do was nod. It took several attempts to get her voice box working. She’d never spoken about her experiences with Felino Stivali, not to anyone. Her Shifter family had been all caught up in her sister, Anna, and Malcolm’s wedding, hadn’t even known she’d gone missing for a couple of days. It wasn’t all bad, but if the Vampires were talking about what she thought they were? That wasn’t something she cared to relive.

  “Tell us, Kythryn.”

  Mason was working some kind of voodoo on her with those silver eyes of his, so she jotted down a mental note to avoid eye contact with him in the future. Still, there was no reason not to fill them in.

  Without thinking, she reached a hand up and touched the twin scars on her shoulder. “It’s been forever ago, and I never heard it called that, but I’m pretty sure I know the place.

  “About five years ago, there was a couple lived in this castle south of Fallen Cross. They were kidnapping Shifters and selling them off for fur coats. I’m surprised you never heard about it.”

  Kythryn caught Mason’s nod from the corner of her eye. “I would imagine this was something the Shifter community chose to keep quiet about,” he said.

  “I suppose,” Kythryn said. “Anyway, I helped a couple of guys bring them down. I never did know who hired them, but, well, the skin traders won’t be bothering anybody again.”

  “You?” Kythryn turned to see one of the Warrior’s glaring at her, his doubt obvious in the scowl on his face. He wore a t-shirt with the arms cut off and a sleeveless leather vest. He had a shaved skull and tattoos covered him from the top of his naked dome to the tips of his fingers. Kythryn didn’t like his attitude.

  “Yeah, me,” she said, returning the male’s scowl with interest. “You don’t think I can be useful?”

  Beside her, Harrier chuckled, and she kicked him. She owed him one anyway, but it only made his smile widen and his eyes spark. She hated it when he did that.

  The other guy leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, that hairy eyeball he threw out grating her last nerve. “Now I’m curious,” he said. “How did you bring them down exactly?”

  “Who are you, again?”

  The male sneered, flashing her his pearly whites, fang and all. “My apologies.” He threw an odd look toward Harrier before moving on. “I’m Viper. I’m in charge of the weapons around here. Now, how did you take down this trafficking ring?”

  Kythryn fidgeted in her seat. “They needed something exotic so I shifted into a liger and got myself kidnapped. The mercenaries handled the rest.”

  The snake dude looked at her like she’d grown an extra head. “A liger? A lion/tiger hybrid? You’re kidding, right?

  Kythryn frowned. Her back was up now, and she was this close to throwing down with Debbie Doubter over there.

  However, Harrier replied before she could put an appropriate insult together. “She’s not kidding,” he said, as sober sounding as she’d ever heard him. “I’ve seen it, and it’s terrifying.”

  Kythryn beamed up at Harrier. “You say the sweetest things.” She ignored the odd looks coming from the other vamps and returned her attention to Viper. “Anyway, the people running the deal were both killed. I can’t imagine that’s still going on.”

  “Is this the place?” A geeky-looking guy with long black hair and black, almond-shaped eyes turned a laptop toward her.

  A picture of that awful castle, complete with turrets and circular driveway stared back at her. There was even an old Cadillac DeVille parked in front, like it was waiting for someone to come and take it for a ride. Must have been an old picture, as she found it hard to believe it was the same car she’d seen when she’d been there all those years ago. Then again, people were funny.

  “Yep,” she said. “That’s the place.”

  The geek retrieved his computer and read the address aloud.

  A barrage of curse words spewed from Harrier’s mouth, some she’d never heard before. “We moved you closer to them, not further away.”

  Kythryn shuddered. “That was my Overlord’s doing, not yours,” she said, thinking Brandt should have known better. Then again, who knew Fuhrmann had connections with the fur traders?

  “Still,” Harrier said.

  Mason interrupted. “What can you tell us about the people you encountered there?”

  Kythryn shrugged, stretching her thoughts back to memories she’d tried hard to forget. “She was weird, tall, dark hair, snotty attitude. But the guy was like a negative image of her. He was tall too, and skinny, with white hair…pale skin…”

  “White floating hair?” Viper asked.

  “Red eyes,” Nox added.

  “Magical abilities.” That from the guy that looked just like Nox.

  “Fuck.” Harrier had such a way with words.

  It was coming back to her, why Fuhrmann had seemed so familiar. “That fur trader was a Sorcerer, wasn’t he?” She looked to Mason for confirmation, but she didn’t really need it. “Well, shit,” she whispered at Mason’s nod.

  “Indeed,” Mason said. “And as such, he would have had access to the property that most certainly now belongs to their race.”

  Harrier dragged his fingers through his hair. “Son of a…”

  “Bitch.” Kythryn finished for him.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  M axx swore as he stormed the halls of the castle he’d acquired

  with Fuhrmann’s help. The Sorcerer had some strange connections, but the place was perfect for Maxx and his brood. With so many ferals in tow, it should have been difficult to find a place where they could all house under one roof. Fuhrmann hadn’t batted an eye. He made a phone call, and voila! The dungeon smelled like wet dog, but it wasn’t like they planned on spending any time down there.

  Thinking of his brood, Maxx swore again. Things hadn’t gone as planned with Nox. Leaving the bastard breathing was the last thing he’d wanted to do, but if they’d hung around any longer, those Legion Soldiers would have killed them all. This wasn’t over, though. He would have Nox’s head before all was said and done.

  Having reached his destination, he shoved at the door, causing it to bang against the wall. Inside the room, three of his most trusted ferals sat at an oaken library table. All of them looked worse for wear, some of their wounds still bleeding freely. Drew was barely conscious.

  “What the hell happened out there?” Maxx shouted. Stone and Mickey jumped, but Drew barely flinched. “We had them outnumbered three to one! How the hell did we lose twenty ferals?”


  Mickey, a short male with large ears to go with his even larger nose, shrugged. “They was just better’n us, boss.”

  “Fuck that,” Maxx spat. “It shouldn’t have happened, and you all know it. I want what’s left of us armed to the teeth. If they can’t shoot, teach them. We won’t be going blades and claws next time. Get elephant guns if you must, and enough ammo to blow the heads off of every Vampire the Legion throws at us.

  “And numbers. We need to recruit as many ferals as we can to join us before the Legion attacks, and they will attack. Promise them whatever you have to, money, blood, sex, I don’t care. All I know is the next time we face off with the Legion, we will not lose, do you understand?”

  Mickey and Stone nodded, but Drew was out for the count.

  “What happened to him? Where’s he injured?” Maxx growled.

  Stone was huge but had the face of a simpleton. He was anything but stupid, however, which generally gave him an advantage. “He was hurt pretty bad,” Stone said, “but he wasn’t about to miss your meeting. We tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted.”

  Maxx walked over to the unconscious man and nudged his chair with a knee. Drew didn’t stir. The feral held his hands clutched around his middle, and Maxx noticed a pool of blood forming in the seat of the chair, dripping down the sides and onto the floor at the male’s feet. Idiot.

  There were a lot of great things about being feral, freedom to do whatever they wanted without the Primeval’s permission chief among them. There was a downside, however. Killing their prey and drinking their fill was a hell of a high, but dead blood had a tendency to rob a Vampire of his healing abilities. They still lived almost forever, and illness wasn’t usually a problem. However, they were generally unable to heal from injuries such as those Drew had sustained. Not even drinking fresh blood could help them.

  And so, while those bastard Soldiers were home sipping A Neg with their cuts and bruises knitting themselves together, more than half of his ferals lay rotting in a field.

  Maxx snarled. “Get him out of here,” he said.

  Mickey and Stone jumped to do his bidding. They grabbed their fallen comrade and dragged him out of the room, leaving a trail of black blood in their wake. Maxx would call someone to clean it up later, and probably have them burn that chair while they were at it.

  He’d liked Drew, as well as he liked any of them, but he tried not to get attached. That was a lesson he learned long ago, and one Nox had taught him well. Care about no one, trust even fewer. And never, ever, put your faith in anyone who can manipulate your mind.

  Maxx shook away the memories of the male who’d betrayed him and fished the burner phone from his pocket. He pressed a button and turned his back to the gory scene.

  The phone rang twice before a familiar German voice answered.

  “Fuhrmann, it’s Maxx.” As he proceeded to fill his employer in on the night’s events, Maxx came to the conclusion that he might have made a mistake. Dangling a chance to get back at Nox in front of him had blinded Maxx to a few details that came with going up against the Legion. Now he’d gone and thrown his brood right into the thick of it. If any of them made it out of this alive, it would be a godsdamned miracle.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  T o Harrier’s relief, Mason dismissed the Warriors for a few hours. The Warlord and Merlin needed to meet with Martin to coordinate the Soldiers and to go over their options. They would reconvene at dusk, which gave the Warriors a chance to grab some sleep before things progressed. Dawn had come and gone hours ago, and Harrier was feeling the effects of the night’s events. He could only imagine what Kitty was going through.

  As they rose to leave, Mason held up a hand and said, “Kythryn, I’ve instructed the staff to prepare a suite for you to use while you’re here. I’m afraid it won’t be ready until later in the day, but someone will contact Harrier when it’s available.”

  Harrier looked from Kitty to the Warlord and back again, but she was stubbornly looking anywhere but at him.

  “Thanks,” she said, then walked out the door.

  Had she requested this?

  Mason was already involved in discussions with Merlin and Viper, so Harrier hurried after Kitty. He knew his reaction to her finding the blood in his fridge had been rash, but she’d witnessed a lot worse from him. She should be used to it by now. Besides, he’d apologized.

  “Kitty?” He found her at the end of the hall, looking left and right, as though trying to decide which way to go.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him, then threw her hands up in the air. “Could this place be any more confusing?”

  Harrier caught up to her, grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “You heard me apologize, right? For earlier?”

  Kitty scrunched her face at him, then shook her head. “Which way, Vampire?”

  Harrier’s shoulders fell as he pointed to the right. “Elevators are down this corridor and on the left. Kitty, what happened?”

  She stomped off where he indicated, ignoring his question. When he reached her again, she was pounding the call button.

  “That doesn’t make it arrive any faster,” he said, hoping to lighten her mood.

  She glowered at him until the doors slid open, then entered the lift without a word.

  Harrier followed her. When the doors settled shut, he hesitated a couple of seconds, then mashed the stop button, causing an alarm to blare and the car to settle to a stop.

  “Talk to me Kitty. Why did you request your own suite?”

  Kitty leaned against the back of the elevator, her arms crossed over her chest, one knee bent with her foot planted against the wall of the car. “I didn’t.”

  “Then who?”

  “I think you need to talk to your sister about that one.”

  “Rachel?” Harrier frowned. “Did she say something when she brought you the clothes?”

  Kitty rolled her eyes and sighed. “Not to me. She was all kinds of nice to my face. But I heard her talking to Mason on the phone, saying I needed my own room. Apparently, being a Shifter means I’m not good enough to breathe the same air as Your Royal Hind-ass.”

  “She said that?” Harrier ignored the insult, unable to reconcile what Kitty was saying with the sister he knew and loved. Sure, she was protective, but who Harrier had as a guest in his suite was none of her fucking business.

  Kitty studied her nails. “Not in so many words.”

  “Would you mind telling me exactly which words she did use, then? Ye’ve got to be mistaken, Kitty. Rachel wouldna interfere like this.”

  “Yeah, well, she did. I believe her exact words were, ‘he doesn’t need to be getting mixed up with someone of a different race.’ Clear enough for you?” Kitty reached around him and hit the button to restart the elevator.

  The car gave a shudder as it began to move again. What could Rachel have been thinking?

  As the doors opened Harrier had a lightbulb moment. Rachel had been concerned about him, had been feeling his twisted emotions through their familial bond. His sister was a lot of things, intuitive being high on the list. Seeing Kitty in his shirt and nothing else probably wasn’t nearly as satisfying for Rachel as it had been for him. That was a conversation for another time.

  For now—Kitty pushed past him, and he grabbed her arm, pulling her to him as they both exited the elevator. When he had eye contact, Harrier rested his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “Leave my sister to me,” he said.

  Kitty shifted her gaze past his shoulder, but the tension in her body eased a bit under his touch.

  “I told you to make yourself at home in my place, and I meant it, Kitty. Make no mistake,” he pointed at the door behind her. “That is my home, and I will decide who comes and goes, and especially who stays.”

  He watched her face, and relaxed only when her eyes crinkled into a mischievous Kitty smile.

  “You said ‘come,’” she snickered, and he dropped his hands from her shoulders.

  “Do you ever t
ake anything seriously?”

  She stared up at him, her eyes going from naughty and playful to downright smoldering in zero point two three seconds. “Yes,” she said. “I take promises very seriously.” She turned toward the door and was in his suite before he could conjure a response.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  K ythryn walked through Harrier’s door and went straight for the fridge. Her first Legion meeting followed by the most serious conversation she’d ever had with Harrier had left her thirsty. She decided to take the Vampire at his word and helped herself to some refreshments. She shoved aside the bag of blood she’d thrown back in there earlier and pulled out a pop. On second thought, she returned the pop and grabbed a beer. “Want one?” she asked, waving the bottle in Harrier’s direction.

  She caught the smile as Harrier nodded. “That’d be great,” he said, so she grabbed a second. She passed one to Harrier on her way by, then settled herself on the sofa, her feet curled under her as she twisted the metal top from the bottle.

  Harrier joined her on the couch, leaving a bit of space between them as he settled in the corner, but not too much. Her heart did a little flip-flop. Then again, it had been on a virtual roller coaster ride for the last twelve hours, give or take, so she wasn’t going to give that irregular beat any credence.

  “Wanna see a trick?” Harrier narrowed his eyes at her, which she took to mean, “Sure, go ahead.” With the snap of her fingers, the bottle cap went soaring across the room like a miniature flying saucer, landing somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen. She grinned as Harrier face-palmed himself.

  “You know, I’m gonna find that with a bare foot in the middle of the day when I’m half asleep,” he said.

  “Yep, and you’ll think of me.”

  Harrier shifted sideways and drew his knee onto the cushion so it was touching Kitty’s. “Aye,” he said. “I suppose I will.”

  Kythryn tilted her bottle toward him and took a long drink, her thoughts returning to what they’d learned in the meeting.