by J. C RIMELL
Gathering up their weapons, they nodded in agreement. “Let's do this.”
Tatum and Remi headed for the corner of the building which lacked security. A fight had started between the guards, causing the commotion on the other side.
With athletic speed, they sprinted across the courtyard and slipped into the expansive building via a cellar door. With semi-automatics poised and ready, they scanned the dark, dank room. Their wolf eyes spotted the stairwell hidden in an alcove leading up into the bowel of the chateau.
Padding through the ground floor their perceptive sense of smell told them there were no humans on that level. The pair proceeded up one side of the double-curved staircase to the first floor with no interception. Tatum paused at the top, raising his nose to the air, he examined the scents lingering in the atmosphere.
It stank of unfamiliarity.
Vampires.
The strange, sickly sweet smell congealed in the back of his throat. He cursed in repugnance and moved forward.
His pale gray eyes spiked with recognition as he turned to Remi. Kit had supplied them with some of Jo's belongings so they could memorize her scent. “She's in here,” he mouthed in silence, his thumb indicating to a door beside him. Hearing faint footsteps climbing the stairs behind them, Tatum opened the door with caution and they slid inside.
Entering the room first, Tatum made a quick assessment.
There was a female with her wrists and ankles tied to an iron, four-poster bed. A male guard sitting in a chair opposite looked up from some shit he was reading. His eyes darted between them both with cool calculation. A second later, the vampire lunged forward with a blurring speed. Remi met the challenge with the same velocity and an uppercut to the jaw, sending the male flying backward through the air.
Fine wood paneling splintered as the vampire hit the wall and dropped to the floor. A wild snarl ripped from the male's throat as he got to his feet and sauntered forward again.
Tatum grabbed a chair, though it was a delicate antique, it would do the trick. He shoved the back of it under the door handles to slow down anyone else who might want to join in the fray.
Unfazed by the fight taking place between his comrade and the vampire, he checked the female's vitals: Her pulse was weak, but a faint thrum was there beneath his fingertips. Pulling out his bowie knife, he cut her restraints loose.
With a fleeting glance back up, he saw the vampire's fangs edging closer to Remi's throat. Despite his size, Remi Skye would be easily mistaken for the type of man that couldn't possibly fight.
But his looks were deceptive.
Below his slick, well manicured and overly good looking exterior—that favored tailored suits and expensive, Italian leather loafers—he was a lethal killer.
A quick flick and Remi had the vampire in a headlock. His gaze bounced up to meet Tatum's with an evil glint in his eye and a smile that revealed his pearly white canines and his true nature. In one, swift twist and a sickening sound of crunching bone and tearing flesh, he ripped the vampire's head clean off his shoulders.
With a shake of his head in disbelief and a curl to his mouth, Tatum tugged the small rucksack from his back. He took out the C4 explosive and walked back over to the door, sensing someone on the other side of it.
“We've got company,” he called out over his shoulder to Remi, before slapping the slab of C4 to one of the wooden panels. He plugged in the detonator cord, unraveled it all the way over to the window and peered out. Tatum was confident he could manage the leap to the ground with the female in his arms with no problem.
He couldn't ignore the battering on the door, it wouldn't hold much longer.
They needed to act quick.
Leaving Remi to set the charge, Tatum scooped the female up into his protective embrace. She was incoherent and her body lacked the curves it should have, weighing no more to him than that of a child.
Remi opened the window and Tatum stepped up. Balancing on the ledge with the woman secure in his muscular arms, his comrade climbed up beside him.
“On three,” Remi said, his thumb hovering over the detonator. “One, two, three―”
He pushed the button.
The blast forced them out of the window. Glass and debris shattered behind them as they leaped to the ground. Tatum's body was a bombproof shield and his arms a safety net for the woman he was about to take home.
§
If there was one quality Simeon Chaput sought in his employees, it was loyalty.
Although the Columbian was a greedy, cunning individual, those attributes made him a valuable asset. He showed little regard for anyone other than himself and that made him the perfect go for… as long as he was paid.
And he was paid well.
Felipe Alejandro had been completely trustworthy. So it came as quite a surprise to learn that he and two of his men had disappeared off the grid. Along with them, a quarter of a million dollars and a hefty fortune in narcotics.
Someone would have to pay.
Simeon's customers were waiting, and it was no good thing. A clientele of this caliber didn't like to wait.
He would have to put his own hand in his pocket to save face and avoid the risk of losing his most important clients. The illegal side of Simeon's businesses was very lucrative, and the Council was happy to turn a blind eye to such suspected activities.
Providing their needs were well catered for.
And Simeon made sure he was always most generous.
He ran a hand through his thick, golden waves in annoyance. Everything seemed to go wrong of late, ever since his brother re-entered his life. He may have washed the blood from off of his hands, Simeon thought, staring down at his palms. They were clean now but had been covered in his brother's crimson liquid. It was a stain on his soul that would remain forever vivid until he no longer breathed. Their fight had been short-lived. Simeon was thankful luck had been with him that day or he might have lost everything to Leon.
Leon had fallen at Simeon's feet. His body still intact, all but for the heart which Simeon wrenched from the confines of his brother's chest. Leon's momentary lapse in concentration had given Simeon a fleeting chance. One which he'd taken without hesitation.
Simeon's own wounds were going through the healing process. Superficial cuts to the softer flesh of his cheeks and neck had taken a little time. The broken ribs, a punctured lung, and the painful fracture to the side of his skull took somewhat longer.
Taking a deep breath, his head snapped up hearing Mathieu enter the room in a rush.
“Sire?”
The sound of panic in his servant's tone broke Simeon's trance. A commotion filling the building rang loud in his ears. “What's happened?” he asked, his voice rough against his parched throat.
“The female―sire―she's gone.”
Unmoving, he tried to think past the haunting images of what had taken place between him and his brother and attempted to gather his thoughts. “How?”
As though sensing his King's agitation, Mathieu edged a little closer with wariness. “There seems to have been some unrest between the men from your brother's coven and the security guards. The premises must have been infiltrated during the altercation.”
Leon's death would have lifted the woman's trance, which wasn't a good thing: She may well remember little if nothing at all, but it remained a threat all the same. Simeon closed his eyes in disbelief, as yet another kink in his latest chain of events formed uncomfortable and unwelcome. It left an acrid taste on his tongue and a violent anger erupting in his veins.
It appeared Leon may have had the last laugh after all.
§
Madeleine collected the newer samples of blood she'd taken from the Others, Seth, and Daniel, from the refrigerator. She scanned the barcodes on each test tube into her computer, bringing up each individual on the database. Having processed the blood from the Others and also from pack members, the components were now ready for closer examination.
A few weeks ago, she had
found a successful cure for Kit McCoy. The venom from a vampire bite poisoned Kit's blood and threatened to change her into one of them. Unable to rid the infection using her own preternatural ability of healing, Madeleine discovered that pack member, Cade Grayson's blood could cure her. His rejuvenating blood cells, plasma, and platelets worked their magic the moment they fused with Kit's own hemoglobin. Once the two of them were mated, Kit became a shifter, leaving her healthy and with an extraordinarily long life.
She placed the first slide into the narrow slot of her microscope and adjusted the lens for a clearer image. The cells seemed to die, explaining why Seth and Daniel needed new hosts. Their blood cells failed to rejuvenate, eventually leading to death. It gave her pause to think.
Removing the slide, she took a dropper and added some blood from one of the pack samples, then replaced the thin piece of glass under the microscope.
She watched in complete absorption, amazed at the beauty of the shifter's cells fusing to the Others' remaining, living cells, and multiplying just as it had with Kit's.
Madeleine wondered if the same thing could work for Seth and Daniel. Getting the experiment cleared by Fleet and the Overseer of the Society would be a complicated proposal, though.
The hiss of the vacuum door sliding open caused her to bring her head up a little. She thought it would be the chief of police and one of the Society's protectors, Jack Henderson as it had been on so many mornings lately. He was spending a lot of time at the lair. Though he wouldn't admit it, Madeleine knew he was becoming increasingly worried for the female vampire still in the holding cells. Valerie Dupont needed blood. But she was refusing the human hemoglobin that Jack was bringing into the compound in donor bags. She was weak and unwilling to communicate with any of the pack. It was down to Lakota to use her ability of emotional healing to help if Valerie would let her.
Madeleine scented who had entered the lab and continued her study of the kindling cells. Trying to ignore the skittish feeling in her stomach and the tremble of her hands, she listened with intense anticipation to every step coming closer and closer toward her.
Ryker slipped into the regulation white coveralls outside of the lab. He'd contemplated the visit over the past several hours. Spending most of the night awake playing out the possible outcomes of confronting the woman he'd shut out of his life with no idea as to how or why he'd done so.
Ever since the first time Ryker held her in his arms long ago, he'd felt the strange connection. A protectiveness, unfamiliar yet something that lived in him all the same. They had shared some hard times together. Madeleine's attack by a savage rogue turned her into a shifter without a choice. Ryker had lost his lower, left leg, not something even a supernatural being like him could heal from. A bond blossomed between them. It turned into a beautiful friendship, one he wished he hadn't allowed his fucked up feelings to compromise.
Deep down he knew how Madeleine felt, could see it in the depths of those lovely cinnamon eyes that held him fast every time she looked at him. Always searching for something he didn't feel he could give. Having all but destroyed the closeness they did have, he missed the warmth of her laugh, the loveliness of her smile, even the soft, fleeting touches of her hands from time to time.
Ryker peered through the glass door at the petite woman sat working at her station. Her flaxen hair was a thick, braided rope down her back. His heart rate quickened as he hit the button to the door before he changed his mind.
“Did Valerie try one of the donor bags this morning?” Madeleine asked without looking up from her microscope. She knew full well the male who entered the lab was not Jack Henderson.
“I have no idea,” Ryker replied, placing a paper bag filled with fresh muffins down on her workstation and a steaming hot cappuccino beside it. He heard her swallow, a seductive sound that fired up the blood in his veins. “I thought you might be hungry.” He noticed how thin she looked, spending too many hours in her lab and neglecting herself.
He wanted to stroke her arm. Offer a simple touch to let her know how she was missed, but his hand curled in on itself restraining the urge. Her silence put him on edge, made him want to shout something to get a reaction. Anything but the cold shoulder he'd felt since she'd rightly given him the brush off.
“Madeleine I―”
“You can see I'm busy.”
Ice cold words said without so much of a fleeting glance his way. Ryker nodded. He understood he wasn't welcome. Acknowledging the change in her scent suggested she didn't want him anywhere near her.
Jesus. It hit him hard in the guts.
He tugged his cap down lower to shade his eyes. Jaw ticking in frustration, he pivoted with a silent curse, the pinch of his prosthetic was giving him hell lately. He'd be damned if he would ask the woman who fitted it to take a look. She'd probably recoil at the very thought now.
If she discovered the truth about how he lost that limb, she'd never speak to him again. No, he'd never tell the secret he shared with Fleet. How their alpha had done a mind sweep and stole some of her horrific memories. He hadn't been able to bring himself to do it before, now it would be impossible.
She'd never look at him the way she once did if she found out how they'd lied. She'd feel guilt and pity and hate him for not telling her the truth.
He'd never want that.
With or without the truth, he thought as he marched away, Madeleine might never want to look at him ever again.
Madeleine glanced over her shoulder, watching as Ryker left and noticed his faint limp seemed more pronounced than usual. She wanted to call him back, make sure he was okay. But the words got stuck, wouldn't budge past the obstinacy blocking her throat. Everything inside of her melted as soon as she'd heard his voice. But she refused to lay her emotions out in the open for him to see.
She'd done that once before.
Her eyes lingered on his back, the muscles seemed bunched and tight beneath his T-shirt. He stopped at the doors and looked back, trapping her gaze and holding her captive, even though his eyes were apparitional. “Fleet wants to see you,” was all he said before he left.
Madeleine stared at the brown paper bag and scented the wonderful aroma of the chocolate and sweet hint of the creamy coffee. Madeleine couldn't bring herself to touch either of them.
She was unable to accept what was clearly an olive branch, Ryker's way of an apology.
She was trying to be an ice queen. Trying to convince herself and those around her that she wasn't the sweet, kind doctor they all knew her to be.
No! She was tough and hard and unbreakable, damn it!
She'd locked her heart behind caged steel, and that's where she intended for it to stay, despite the fact they had become friends and had healed together. Ryker had been a solid shoulder to lean on and she had comforted him as much as he would allow. He was the one who cared for her when she'd been brought into the pack's lair almost dead. It was he who eased her fears when the transition period of shifting hit.
And she had helped to heal his amputation, fitting him with a prosthetic that had taken months of construction to get right.
Even now, she knew how he hated everyone seeing him that way. But after many months, he came to accept it, just as she accepted becoming part of the pack.
Now there was a wedge between them pushing the two of them further and further apart. Soon it would become as wide as an ocean, and she feared it would be too far a divide to recover from.
Yet she felt powerless against its tide.
With her stomach in knots, she threw the bag and coffee into the trash.
Three
Kit crammed her clothes into the suitcase and shut it, placing her dress for Friday night's ceremony atop of it. She'd put off returning to London with Cade. Unable to face her mother and tell her the truth about Jo's kidnapping meant putting the wedding to her mate on the back-burner for a while. But deciding she no longer wanted to stay in the house that felt too big, too quiet, too haunting without her aunt's cheerful presence ther
e to give it life, she packed up a few essentials and would stay with Cade at the lair. At least, until she left to spend a week with the maternal females at Silver Skies, the shifter colony in the remote Alaskan territory.
Cade assured her Fleet and the pack was fine about it. Since the revelation of being the Overseer's grandson came to light, Christopher Warden had little choice but to bend the Society's rules if he wanted Cade to fill his position when the time came. Being Warden's grandson meant Cade was one of the most powerful shifters pledged to the Society. Though he was still young and growing into his power, he'd taken up his new role as second in command to Fleet, his alpha, with a keen determination.
Grabbing her toiletry bag from the bathroom, she caught her reflection in the small mirror over the sink.
She was… different.
The changes were subtle, but they were there. Her eyes were brighter. A deep sapphire splintered with dazzling sparks of arctic blue and her skin glowed with a healthy hue that put a natural hint of rose in her cheeks. Kit couldn't remember a time when she felt more feminine. More womanly too, and she knew it had everything to do with her mate. Cade had opened her heart to the possibilities of happiness and helped her lay the guilt and sorrow over her sister's death to rest.
“Hey, are you done?” Cade asked as he entered the room. His hands slipped around her waist from behind and pulled her into the heat of his body.
Kit nodded, tilting her head to the side as he nuzzled her neck.
“Mmm, you smell so good,” a nip to her ear lobe.
“You told me that already,” she giggled. Reaching a hand behind, she tugged at the ends of his hair, watching his eyes rear upward to meet her own in their reflections. “You don't smell too bad yourself, Cade Grayson.”
“I don't?” A flash of those deadly fangs.
She smiled and arched her back into him, feeling his arousal at the base of her spine. The sexual chemistry had gone from strength to strength, but he never ceased to surprise her.