Rebel Obsession (All the King's Men)

by Donya Lynne

When he had flown out over a week ago to meet the two vampires who he had been communicating with for over a year, he hadn’t expected to find such a valuable commodity. Bishop had gone into the meeting simply looking for another resource to add to his growing cache of suppliers and allies. The two vampires, Jacob and Haslet, reported having a powerful, ruthless assassin under their control, and when Bishop had inquired how they had managed that, they led him to the basement. Maddox had been lying in an induced coma on a makeshift medical bed that was much too short to hold him. Maddox’s feet had hung off the end.

  “Who is he?” Bishop had asked.

  “The assassin’s father.” Haslet had replied.

  Apparently, Jacob and Haslet held Maddox’s safety over the assassin, threatening to kill him if the assassin refused to do as they instructed. The assassin—neither of them would tell Bishop his name—had lost a brother and his mother centuries ago. All he had left was his father, and from the sound of it, the assassin would do anything to ensure his father didn’t come to harm.

  “And what of this assassin? Will he work for me?” Bishop had been eager to employ the services of such a weapon.

  “If we tell him to, he’ll do anything we ask,” Jacob told him.

  “Tell me about him.”

  “The assassin?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s there to say? He’s a mixed-blood with extraordinary talents.”

  Bishop had perked up at the mention of a mongrel. And that was when the seeds of an idea had begun to form. He had searched for a vampire like Maddox for a long time. He’d known upon seeing him that he wanted him for his own, but learning that his son was a mixed-blood caused his interest to spike beyond mere wanting. Whatever it took, Bishop would obtain Maddox.

  “Sell him to me.” Bishop nodded toward Maddox as he made the demand.

  “What?” Jacob exchanged glances with Haslet, who held up his hand as if to calm him.

  “How much will you pay?” Haslet seemed more ready to deal than Jacob.

  “Whatever it costs.”

  The two exchanged glances again, dollar signs lighting up in their eyes.

  “Ten million dollars.” Haslet suggested.

  A mere drop in the bucket of Bishop’s hefty cash reserves, and well worth spending for such a fine specimen.

  “Done.”

  Both Jacob and Haslet gasped.

  “On one condition.” Bishop held up his finger at them. “His son, the assassin, is not to find out.” If they were using Maddox to keep him under control, and Bishop ended up wanting to employ the assassin’s services down the road, keeping him in the dark about his father’s transfer to Bishop was necessary.

  “How do we pull that off?” Jacob asked.

  “Not my concern. Just make sure he doesn’t.”

  The two vampires nodded then, resolved to the deal they had struck with him. “Done.”

  The three had shaken on it, Maddox had been turned over to him, and he had left with the promise that the assassin would be in his back pocket any time he needed to order a hit. It had been a win-win-win meeting for Bishop.

  As he stopped in front of Maddox’s cell, he licked his lips, unable to tear his gaze away from his treasured acquisition. He reached into the pocket of his robe for his case of Sobranies, but in his excitement to get to the lab, he had forgotten to grab them off his bedside table.

  “Damn.” He tsked at himself and pulled his hand back out of his pocket. If only he could savor the moment with a cigarette.

  Maddox remained in the corner of his cell, head down. His long, dark brown hair hung over his face and past his bent knees, which supported his thickly muscled arms. The vampire was apparently sleeping.

  As Maddox’s custody had been transferred to Bishop, Jacob had explained that Maddox had lain in a sort of self-induced stupor or hibernation for centuries and had only recently re-animated as if brought out of the spell he had been under. Bishop had asked what had sent the vampire into such a state, and Jacob had told him that, apparently, when Maddox had lost his mate and other son, he hadn’t been able to cope, as most male vampires can’t. But his human mate had been a witch or some voodoo sorceress and had sheltered Maddox in protective magic even after her death. In fact, it was as if her death itself had activated the magical mechanism within Maddox to make him fall into sleep so he didn’t harm himself or die as a result of losing her. Had she hoped to prevent the mental breakdown that claimed the lives of nearly a third of the males who lost their mates and left the other two-thirds in a state of mental decrepitude marked with violence and self-loathing?

  Clever human.

  The truth was, Jacob and Haslet had been relieved to be rid of Maddox now that he had awakened. It was why Haslet had been so eager to deal. They weren’t sure what he would do or how he would behave now that the spell on him had finally worn off, and they hadn’t been eager to find out. That was why they had kept him in an induced coma, because whether or not he would melt down in a rage of destruction once he assimilated the reality that his mate was still dead had kept everyone on pins and needles. Maddox could just as easily react violently as he could with submission.

  But Bishop would have none of leaving Maddox in an induced coma. If the big vampire was awake, Bishop would make sure he stayed that way if he could. All the better to see the vampire’s mettle and what exactly he was capable of. Bishop wouldn’t be able to surmise what to expect once the experiments started if he couldn’t study Maddox’s behavior and mental state.

  With a tap of his fingernail on the glass, Bishop switched on the microphone with his other hand.

  “Wake up, my friend.” He wiped a touch of saliva from his lip, all wide eyes and greedy eagerness.

  The only sign that Maddox had awakened was a slight twitch of his left hand.

  “Are you hungry, Maddox?” Bishop tilted his head, studying the impressive musculature of his acquisition, his palm smoothing over the front of his robe.

  Slowly, Maddox lifted his head. Strands of hair still hung over his face, but one pale eye peeked through. But what an eye it was. Unlike earlier when Apostle had straggled along for a tour and Maddox had been dull and lifeless, Maddox’s gaze now burned with inner animation even as his body remained still as stone. What looked like pure hatred seared Bishop from the single, pale iris he could see through all that thick hair. Maddox’s brow was set in a hard line and scrunched over the bridge of his nose. He looked like a pissed off lion crouched in the bushes.

  But instead of leaping swiftly, Maddox slowly leaned forward, his movements a deliberate study of deadly grace. Drawing back his shoulders and arching his neck, Maddox pushed out his chin as his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. Long fangs distended from both his upper and lower jaws as a long, deadly hiss issued Bishop a warning.

  What a lovely sight. Only the most ancient of the Slavic vampires had lower fangs. Having both upper and lower fangs was a trait only the most barbarous vampires of prehistory possessed. Still, how rude of his guest to hiss at him like that.

  “I see we will have to teach you some manners.” Taming the wild ones always made him smile.

  Not that a lot of wild vampires came through his lab, but he had seen one or two. Bishop had methods to ensure they broke eventually, though. Breaking Maddox and reconstructing him would be a crowning achievement.

  The caged vampire shifted and planted one massive hand on the floor and pushed up. The beast moved like a gorilla, graceful and measured, despite his incredible size. Bishop was surprised. He thought one such as Maddox, who had just awakened from a centuries-old sleep and had limbs as long as the Jolly Green Giant’s, would be as clumsy as an ox. Not so. Maddox moved with fluid grace. Living art.

  Once on his feet, Maddox’s stature was even more impressive.

  “My, you are a tall one.” Bishop licked his lips, his gaze traveling up and down Maddox’s naked body.

  What he had planned for Maddox would change everything, but he mustn’t be too e
ager. Bishop needed to make sure nothing could go wrong before he pulled the trigger on his next series of experiments.

  In only two steps, Maddox was standing at the front of the cage, glaring down at him from the other side of the reinforced Plexiglas. As he breathed against the glass, clouds of condensation formed.

  Bishop had to turn his head up at a sharp angle to look into Maddox’s eyes.

  “Very tall.” Bishop’s body shivered with anticipation, and he grinned.

  Maddox had to be over seven feet tall. The tallest vampire Bishop had ever seen.

  “Dreck…where my son?” Maddox spoke in broken, heavily accented English.

  Bishop had as yet never heard Maddox speak, but his voice did not disappoint. In fact, his voice was so deep and guttural, it created its own echo.

  Narrowing his eyes, Bishop grinned at the way Maddox looked at him with pure hatred. Unfortunately for Maddox, he wasn’t in control here. Bishop was. Bishop held the knowledge that Maddox had missed since falling into slumber centuries ago, and only Bishop held the power to grant Maddox comfort or pain, release or captivation.

  “Your son is dead.” It would make breaking Maddox easier if he thought he had no one left.

  “No.” Maddox’s frown deepened and his breathing grew labored as he clenched his fists then slammed them against the glass.

  “Oh yes. You are all that remains of your family, Maddox.” Bishop took a step backward, one arm crossed over his torso and the elbow of the other resting on it. He nonchalantly inspected his fingernails of his raised hand. “Consider me your family now, dear boy.”

  “NO!” Maddox pounded his fists against the Plexiglas, but it didn’t give.

  The look on the vampire’s face was priceless. His gaze danced over the Plexiglas as if he couldn’t believe it hadn’t broken. Maddox had never seen Plexiglas before. It hadn’t been invented the last time he had roamed as a free vampire. And this was reinforced.

  With a roar, Maddox bared his fangs and struck the Plexiglas again, and again, pounding and punching with all his strength until his knuckles cracked and bled.

  Streaks of blood covered the inside of the glass by the time Maddox fell to his ass on the floor, sweat covering him and his chest pumping hard for air.

  “Impressive.” Bishop’s mouth ticked into a manic grin.

  Maddox looked up at him, his pale eyes seething. “I kill you…dreck.”

  “Oh, I very much doubt that, Maddox.” Bishop knelt down and studied his new pet. “I have plans for you, Maddox. You and I will become very close in the next few weeks. Very close.”

  Bishop pressed a button on the panel next to the cell. A hissing noise followed as vapor entered the cell from a vent in the ceiling.

  “Fuck y—” Maddox fell backward into unconsciousness before he could finish.

  With his heart beating hard with exhilaration, Bishop sat down outside Maddox’s cell and watched him sleep, his blue hand pressed against the glass. The vampire was turning out to be a better acquisition than he had first thought. This would be good. Very good.

  “Impressive indeed,” he whispered.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Damn, Io, you’ve got it bad, don’t you?” Tristan said.

  Io glanced up at Tristan. “Huh?”

  Tristan shook his head and gave him a look. “You’re going to be as bad as Micah, aren’t you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Haven’t you heard a word I said?” Tristan frowned.

  Had Tristan been talking? Io couldn’t remember. “I guess not. Sorry.”

  “Okay, let me start over. Pay attention this time.”

  Io nodded. He would try, but he was a spider’s nest of agitation. Being away from Miriam after mating her not even twenty-four hours ago was like getting married without a honeymoon.

  Newly mated males needed to be with their mates immediately after mating, especially once the calling started. Otherwise, they went stir crazy. And the way Io was feeling, his calling could start any minute.

  Tristan snapped his fingers. “Earth to Io.”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry.”

  “Do I have your attention now?”

  He nodded.

  “Good. Maybe I’d better give you the condensed version since your attention span is a bit short-circuited right now. What I was saying, was that we need to find a way to soften your mating to Miriam in a way that might go over better with the king. This has all been too abrupt and could backfire.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Io rubbed his knuckles up and down his sternum, trying to ease the ache in his chest.

  “I want to use your cobalt addiction. Spin it like this: ‘Io has first-hand knowledge of cobalt addiction. We can treat her and keep it all hush-hush. Move her into Io’s home for a few weeks so he can see her through recovery and withdrawal.’ That kind of thing. We could ease into your mating her more slowly, once he’s gotten used to you and sees you’re not a threat and mean no harm. And I’m sure he would appreciate the matter of privacy and keeping this out of the public eye. If she is admitted here, it would be common knowledge. What do you think?”

  It was brilliant, as far as Io was concerned, because hadn’t he had a similar idea while cradling Miriam in his arms earlier?

  “What about my work schedule?”

  “I’ll remove you from rotation for as long as it takes.” Tristan punctuated his statement by lightly thumping his fist on his desk. “I’d be taking you out of rotation, anyway, due to your calling, so it’s neither here nor there.”

  “We could play it she’ll need care twenty-four-seven. And we can say that she’ll need strict maintenance care after her withdrawal has subsided.” Io was feeling more and more confident about their plan.

  “Yes, and that she would need after-care every other day.”

  “By then, I would hope we could tell him we’re mated,” Io said.

  Tristan held up his hands. “I know. But we can hold that ace in our pocket if we need to and if he doesn’t seem ready to hear it. It’s just a thought. It’d be a bitch if you’re still in your calling at that time, but hopefully you’ll be far enough into it or past it so it’s no longer an issue when that time comes.”

  So far neither of them had mentioned the obvious. Io took a deep breath and held it for a minute.

  “Tris….” He emptied his lungs, holding Tristan’s gaze. “You know what this means, right? As far as the law goes regarding Miriam.”

  “About touching her?”

  Io nodded. “Yes. Obviously, I have and I will.”

  Tristan looked as nervous as Io felt. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve considered that.” Tristan looked down at the pen he was fiddling with on his desk. “Damn, Io, but you’re a pain in my ass.” Tristan’s words lacked the punch they’d had on the phone earlier.

  “Sorry.”

  Tristan chuffed and leaned back, spreading his hands on the desk. “Don’t be sorry. She’s your mate.”

  Io regarded him a moment, then said, “If she gets pregnant, we won’t have long to hide what’s happened.”

  “I know.” Tristan settled further into his chair, not meeting Io’s gaze.

  Io’s brow furrowed. Something was on Tristan’s mind. “Why are you doing this, Tristan? You could get in a lot of trouble.”

  Tristan stood and walked across the small office, paused, then turned and paced back. When he sat back down, his gaze fell on a picture of Josie on his desk. He blew out a heavy breath and dropped his head, jaw set, his brow knitted.

  “My reasons are my own, Io, but you have a natural right to be with her. You have a valid claim. You and Miriam should be together.” Tristan shifted in his chair, his gaze still on his desk, his fingers loosely interlaced.

  Io looked from Josie’s picture to Tristan, then back to the picture. There was something Tristan wasn’t saying. Tristan had never mated Josie, not the way he had mated Miriam, but Io got the sense there was more to whatever was going on with Tristan than
that.

  The fact that Josie was even pregnant when he had never experienced a calling with her was a miracle. Whatever was going on, Tristan didn’t look happy. Was he feeling the heartache of knowing that he and Josie would never be true mates, or did something else burden him? Whatever it was, Tristan didn’t seem interested in talking about it.

  When Tristan didn’t say anything further, Io said, “Okay, when?”

  Tristan snapped out of whatever reverie his mind had traipsed into and cleared his throat. “I’ll place a call to Gregos as soon we’re done here and lay the foundation. I won’t tell him you’re already mated. Oh, and the others have strict orders not to speak of it, and I want you out of here ASAP so no one else picks up on it. At any rate, I’ll talk to Gregos and hopefully he can persuade the king to put Miriam in your care. I really don’t see any way he could say no. He wants to keep this private, and the black spot on his family is an embarrassment. You getting her off blue could make you look like a savior to him and he’ll be more receptive to your mating.” Tristan paused and held his hands palms up. “It’s as solid a plan as we’re going to get.”

  “I like it. Let’s do it.”

  “Okay, get out of here.” Tristan turned toward his phone. “I’ll call you at home as soon as I hear back. Try to relax. This will work out. It’s a good plan.”

  It was a good plan. It was an awesome plan. It would work. It had to.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Malek tossed his weapons into his locker.

  Great, now Io was mated. First Micah, then Sev and Ari, and now Io. La-dee-fucking-da for them.

  At least the team had been given the night off while shit got sorted out with the cluster fuck Io’s mating had created. He could go to the Black Garter, buy a private dance or two, then go home and take care of the nagging ache in his balls.

  “You going to the Garter, Malek?” Micah said, his voice quiet even though they were the only two in the locker room.

  “Get out of my head, Micah.”

  “Actually, I’m making it a point to stay out of your head right now, and you of all people know how hard that is for me to do.” Micah paused, tossing a pair of gloves in his locker. “You’ve just got that look.”