by K. L. Kreig
“Can’t say that I have,” Dev replied.
“Me either,” Damian quipped. “But it would sure be fucking handy.”
Ren wasn’t so sure about that. It could be beneficial in certain circumstances, yes, but devastating in others.
“What about you?” Ren nodded in Geoffrey’s direction.
“No. Where’d you hear of such a thing?” he responded, easing onto the couch.
Ren didn’t answer his question. Instead, he asked the next one on his mind. “You ever hear of a vamp named Franco?”
Geoffrey rolled his eyes to the ceiling, clearly in thought. “Don’t think I have, but it’s not like I get out much. Why?”
“I’m asking the questions here, rogue.”
Geoffrey just smirked but shut his mouth. Fucker knew he was on shaky ground with the other vamps in the room, but a part of him had to respect Geoffrey’s position and all he was willing to risk to make things right, helping them bring an end to the devil’s spawn that was Xavier.
“What’s this about, Ren?” Dev asked, dragging his attention from Geoffrey back to his leader.
Ren leaned one thigh against Dev’s desk and put most of his weight on it. The heavy wood creaked slightly and he just smiled when Dev frowned. Dev was so protective of that fucking desk and it was always fun to push his buttons a bit.
“Well, I just had a nice little conversation with our detective. He said something that caught my attention is all.” He glanced quickly in Geoffrey’s direction, not sure if he should continue the discussion with the rogue present.
“Go ahead,” Dev encouraged. He understood Ren’s hesitation. It appeared Dev trusted Geoffrey more than he did.
Ren wondered if he was making more of this than he should. Though after Geoffrey’s little nuclear bomb about Xavier’s secret scientists and “new” vampiric powers they’d developed, there may be more credence to give it than he originally thought.
“Well, it happened quite a long time ago. A year or so after Jamie was kidnapped.” Everyone had somber faces and Damian threw Geoffrey a look chucked full of malice. Ren ignored Damian, relaying the Reader’s Digest-version of the story. “He ran into a couple of vamps assaulting a young girl. It got violent, the girl didn’t make it, and a vamp named Franco had some mind-scrubbing skill that worked on his partner but not the detective. The two rogues carried on with a little chitchat while they cleaned up and from what the detective said, there’s no doubt they were talking about Xavier. They talked about kidnapping another girl and said he’d have their heads if they killed cops.”
Three sets of eyes turned toward Geoffrey. He threw his hands up in self-defense. “Jesus, fuck. I know nothing about this. Except the cops part. Xavier has minions all over the damn country in law enforcement, and while he’s a soulless bastard, he doesn’t appreciate their indiscriminate killing without his say-so. Dead cops are not the kind of attention he wants.”
“Right. But young, innocent girls are like snack food,” Damian spat.
Geoffrey stiffened, ready for battle with Damian. It was clear Damian wasn’t going to forgive and forget the factoid that Geoffrey was directly responsible for his mate’s kidnapping and more than a one-night “stay” with Xavier recently.
“But it could be possible,” Dev cut in, also cutting the tension that had mounted. “This so-called power isn’t something that’s completely impossible, even though none of us know any bloodline with this skill, is it?”
Geoffrey blew out a long breath, letting his head fall against the cushion, almost in defeat. “At this point, I think anything is possible with that sick fuck.” He was clearly as disturbed about this as the rest of them, which earned him another couple of points in Ren’s book.
“We need to find this Franco,” Damian said earnestly, rising to his full six-six frame.
“We’re not even sure he’s still alive or if he will be after tonight,” Ren replied. They planned to end every single one of Xavier’s minions tonight except for the young ones they recovered. Finding this Franco would be like recovering a single gold bar at the bottom of the Pacific without any sonar. Who the hell knew where he was. Hell, he was probably dust by now. Didn’t seem to him that many vamps had a long life span with Xavier as their “Master.”
“I don’t want us distracted by this tonight. If we stumble across him, we capture him. But I don’t want anyone’s life in danger,” Dev stated. “We don’t know anything about this power or its effectiveness or side effects. It’s too…dangerous. Too unknown. In fact, it would probably be best if he was eliminated.” He paused, pinning Geoffrey with a concerned look. “If you make it through this next week alive, rogue, I want you to put out some feelers just in case. We have no idea what the fuck Xavier has set loose with his experiments.”
“Of course.” Geoffrey nodded respectfully.
“I’m outie,” Damian announced, striding toward the door. “I need to spend some time with my mate before tonight’s bloody battle.” In other words, he needed to do the horizontal bopty-bop.
“Damian,” Dev called. Damian stopped and threw a look over his shoulder. “Good luck tonight.”
Damian hesitated. He opened his mouth but swallowed whatever it was he was going to say. Tonight would be a hard-fought bloodbath. They all knew it. None of them were cocky enough to guarantee they would be coming home afterward, even Damian, the King of Cock. Rephrase (because he didn’t need that visual). Arrogance. King of Arrogance. “You too,” Damian replied in a low voice. Then he was gone, leaving the three of them.
“You sure you’re all set for tonight?” Ren asked Dev. Thane, Manny, and Giselle would stay back with Dev and the Lords’ mates. Ren needed to protect his leader, but it was equally—or more—important to protect the Lords’ females.
“You act like I’m not capable of caring for my mate,” Dev snapped.
He was pissed.
Ren didn’t care.
“And you act like I shouldn’t be doing my job. My lord,” he tacked on, though it lacked the respect it should have. There’s no one besides Kate who could get away with talking to the Midwest Regent Vampire Lord like Ren did. But that’s what over three hundred loyal years together bought him. Carte blanche.
“Ren.” Dev sighed, shaking his head. Skirting around his desk, he clasped his hand on Ren’s shoulder, squeezed, and said, “Be careful tonight.”
Huh. Not what he was expecting.
“Would you miss me if I didn’t return, my lord?” Ren’s smirk was wiped away when the mood perceptibly shifted to one he knew would be a “bro moment.” Shit. He didn’t feel completely comfortable with those. Okay, truth? Hives. It gave him hives.
Dev inched slightly closer to Ren. Because Ren stood just about an inch above him, Dev had to shift his eyes upward to meet Ren’s. “More than you know.”
The moment seemed to stretch on forever, and memory after memory together with his best friend slammed into him like a speeding freight train. He loved Dev like a brother. Hell, he was his brother for all it mattered. And even the fleeting thought these were their last seconds together hit him hard in the chest. Then it passed and he could breathe again without his lungs being constricted.
“Don’t worry.” His signature smirk was back as he clasped Dev on the opposite shoulder. “I’ll be around another three hundred years to keep you on your toes.”
“You mean be a pain in my ass,” Dev corrected, his own smile playing on his lips.
“Of course, that’s what I meant. Regarding the other matter we discussed earlier, is…” He paused, realizing Geoffrey was still in the room. Fucking great. Now his “bro moment” had a witness. Just what he needed. “Is everything set?” he finished.
Ren hadn’t seen Elle in three days until today. Not since he may have happened to drop a hint where she would be able to find her detective. And since he hadn’t seen or heard from her, he knew the cop had finally, finally managed to snare her. Finding him here this afternoon was just the icing on the cake th
at was already baked. So, he put the second phase of his little Project Elle into motion and Dev was going to help. Actually, Ren hadn’t given him much choice.
“Yes, it’s set. I had to do a lot of convincing with Kate, but when tonight is over, I’ll talk to Elle.”
“Perfect.”
“You sure this is a good idea?” Dev hedged. He was as worried about Elle’s reaction as Ren was.
“Good? Eh. Necessary? Absolutely.”
“Okay then. I’ll support you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check on Kate. Make sure she’s resting comfortably.”
“Of course, my lord.” Dev gave him a brief smile that held all the unspoken words between them. Then he, too, was gone.
Turning his attention to Geoffrey, who still sat quietly on the couch not even pretending he wasn’t listening to the last ten minutes of conversation, he said, “You’re going to help me with something.” The rogue simply raised his brows in response.
The first two “to-dos” on Ren’s list had now been ticked off. Uniting Elle and her mate. And after the enlightening convo in the kitchen with Mike Thatcher, he knew their official bonding countdown clock had started ticking.
Now, tonight they would scratch off another. Annihilating Xavier. He felt victory already vibrating in his bones. Tonight it would end, he was sure of it. Then he was headed out to track Siobhan like the fucking animal he was and Geoffrey was going to help.
Ren was removing this excuse from Elle’s plate. Not one person on the face of this planet deserved happiness like she did.
Not one.
“Here’s what I need,” he said, taking a seat beside a once enemy who had suddenly become a very valuable asset in more ways than one.
13
Giselle
“What’s the matter, baby?” Mike purred in her ear.
What’s the matter?
What’s the matter?
The matter is she’s stuck babysitting a bunch of brats when she should be in the fray. Fighting. Killing. Severing heads, limbs. Cutting out sin-stained hearts. Relishing in screams of mercy that are fruitless. But noooooo. Here she sits with Kate, Analise, and Sarah instead, watching—wait for it—Real fucking Housewives of fucking Orange County.
Who in their right mind voluntarily watches this garbage? Who gives two shits about haughty, rich, silicone-filled, clawed bitches who spend their days going to the spa, drinking wine, and spreading gossip like a virus? She had half a mind to find these women and put them—and the rest of the country—out of their misery. This right here? This was real torture. Worse than half the shit she’d been through.
The three queens “oooooohhhhhed” at some particularly snarky comment that someone named Shannon had just made about someone named Vickie making up some cancer story about someone named Brooks.
Good fucking God. Shoot her. Now.
“Nothing,” she replied tersely. The chuckle that danced over her neck pissed her off but made her heart race at the same time.
“You’re a terrible liar, baby.” He planted a soft kiss in the space right below her ear, making her hum.
“Stop that.” She tried pulling out of his hold, but he only gripped harder, yanking her back into him. He wound his arms completely around her waist and laced his hands together.
They were standing in the back corner of the main living room. She had no idea why she even stayed in this room, except for the fact she felt loyal to Dev. This is where he was, sitting on the couch with his “bride,” watching this drivel with her, so this is where she would be. Protecting him. Protecting her. Protecting their heir.
“Relax,” he whispered against the shell of her ear.
Giselle sagged a bit against the hard plane of Mike’s chest and just the press of their bodies together made her thoughts stray to bonding with him, something she’d been thinking about constantly.
As with male vampires, female vampires only bonded for life with humans. Only when a female vampire found her mate, it was quite different than for a male vampire. Males were a little more aggressive when they found their Moiras. Viciously possessive, stopping at nothing to make them theirs. She’d watched that play out over and over again with the Lords. And it was really quite amusing watching each of them squirm like worms dangling on the end of a hook. Their mates were feisty, each one giving them a run for their money. Even the mild-mannered Kate.
But for females, in some big cosmic fuck-you, it was very much like the way human females let their emotions rule their hearts…and vaginas. Oh, the physical was still there, as her dampness between her thighs would attest, but feelings were in the proverbial driver’s seat. How she wished it were more physical than emotional, because Giselle did not do touchy-feely shit. Well, with anyone but her Fated, that was.
Giselle always thought male and female vampires differed when it came to finding their mates because males found the one person in the world they’d be able to procreate with. Female vampires couldn’t procreate. It was some sick, warped game the Universe played with their kind, but Giselle hadn’t given it one thought—ever—until she met Mike.
In fact, brats were never in her five-hundred-year road map whether she wanted them to be or not. And for the first time since she could form a thought, she was angry about that. Mike deserved kids if that’s what he wanted. He would be a good father, a great teacher. She, on the other hand, would make a shitty mammi. She knew that, but still. Shouldn’t she get to make that choice instead of it being made for her by some unknown God-like entity who supposedly ruled their destiny? Would Mike even want her if he knew she couldn’t have children?
She had a lot of baggage. Fuckloads of it. Was it fair to saddle him with her shit, too, when it was hard enough to carry on her own? With her inadequacies and defects? Plus he had his own demons to deal with. Why would he want hers added to the pile?
And then, of course, there was still Siobhan.
Her heart sank.
Giselle had come so far in the last few days. Accepting this thing between her and Mike. Climbing into his bed. Letting him command her, love her, make love to her. Lying in the safety of his arms for the past few days, she’d almost convinced herself that the rainbow was real and there was a genuine treasure at the end of it. But the mountains she had yet to cross to get to the gold suddenly felt like the Alps. They seemed insurmountable.
Everything she’d never wanted was within her grasp, yet it was all an illusion, wasn’t it? Another distorted, fucking trick of the mind. Giving her a taste of a life she could have but wouldn’t.
Kate’s laughter dragged her from her dark, building thoughts. She watched Dev’s mate rub her baby-swollen belly, an act that seemed to click along in slow motion. Dev noticed and his hand joined hers, his heartfelt smile slicing Giselle to ribbons. It was a miracle she would never experience. It was something Mike would never experience with her. The intimate connection between the three of them—mother, father, and baby—was palpable and undeniable and so real it made her ache in places she thought long shriveled up.
“Oh my God, can you believe her?” Kate squealed about something on the show, nudging Dev who just grunted.
Suddenly she was filled with rage. A horribly violent energy coiled in her and it had to be released, so she took it out on the easiest target. Not smart, but whatever. “Jesus fucking Christ, you would think someone with a PhD would want to watch a show that actually developed brain cells instead of killing them.” The caustic words burned the skin from her tongue. As they fell off, she immediately wished she could call them back.
Dev dropped his arm from a stricken Kate. His eyes burned and his jaw ticked back and forth with justifiable anger, but he needn’t have said a word. His rage rang in her ears clearly. It was deafening.
“I need to use the washroom,” she said.
Using her own strength to break Mike’s hold, she fled the damning eyes of everyone in that room. After she splashed some cold water on her face, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Time ticked slowly by.
The female she saw was no longer the beautiful face of an ice-cold, impenetrable bitch, but the very definition of weak. Loving Mike made her strong in so many ways, but weak in so many others. Pent-up emotions had finally bled through that thick skin of hers, now sitting on the surface for everyone to see and judge. She loathed it. It made her act in ways she would have never acted before. What’s worse, it made her regret them.
With a heavy sigh, she dried herself off. Not ready to face their pitiful stares or scathing whispers, Giselle wandered into the kitchen to pour herself a drink.
She’d fully expected Mike to follow her, try to comfort her, maybe even try to fuck some sense into her in some remote part of the house. But maybe he knew her better than she thought because she still needed a moment or two alone to find the words “I’m sorry” that swam somewhere deep in her muddy depths. They were there somewhere; she just had to dig them up and wash them off. They weren’t used very often.
She heard the pitter patter of feet approach. Knew by the cadence it wasn’t Mike—or Dev for that matter. So, with vodka in hand, she waited. Moments later Sarah entered.
Sarah paused, glanced at her drink then back at her face. Giselle intentionally tried to keep it blank, indifferent. But Sarah…Sarah was perceptive. There was something in Sarah she had liked immediately. She’d even bantered lightly with her earlier today. She wouldn’t call Sarah a “friend,” since, well, she had no friends besides Ren. But sadly what she had with Sarah bordered as close to a friendship as she’d ever had with another female.
With hand on hip, Sarah started in on her and, honestly, she’d have thought less of her if she hadn’t. She would never admit it, though.