by Donya Lynne
“What do you mean?”
He smiled against her throat. “Taking you as a mate has been my greatest act of rebellion. I defied the king to have you. I defied everyone to make you mine. Even myself.”
Miriam pushed him to his back and straddled his hips, her long, raven hair spilling over her breasts. “You’re such a bad boy.”
“Only because you’re such a bad girl.”
She grinned. “I am that, aren’t I?”
He nodded, playing his palms up her naked thighs. “Mmm, we’re so perfect together.”
“Two rebels?”
He lifted her up so she could reach down and position his still-erect cock beneath her.
“Mmm, God yes.” He moaned as he slid into her slick channel. “Don’t you ever go playing it safe with me, either. I love you this way.”
Miriam swung forward and mashed her breasts to his chest. “Ditto.”
As the calling rose up once more, Miriam rocked hard against him, taking him to new heights.
I’m going to be a father. Io wrapped his arms around the mother of his child and swore he would never let go.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Cordray sat across from the two drecks, filtering through their broken memories and unlocking what was real and discarding what was false. These two had been mind-fucked not just once, but twice in the past twenty-four hours, and they had been held in a semi-lucid, almost hypnotic state for part of the time. But through their unlocked memories, she saw the other players in the room and heard all the conversations that had taken place.
Donovan was situated to her right. King Bain sat to her left, tense and fidgeting, because Io had not yet returned with Miriam, and it was daylight out. It was surprising Bain was able to focus at all.
And that prick, Trace, sat with the others who had been re-assembled to finish the trial that had been disrupted earlier.
“Bishop,” she said. “He’s in charge. Jessup is—was—the vampire who worked for him.” She fixed Trace in a knowing stare.
When she had looked inside Trace’s mind earlier, she had seen the gruesome demise of Jessup, as well as his reaction to finding his father having God knew what being done to him.
She actually felt bad for Trace having to find his father like that. Medics had taken Maddox to the AKM facility before she and the others had returned to King Bain’s courthouse, and she sensed that it was killing Trace not to be there when his father woke up.
But she couldn’t think about that now. She had work to do. She turned her attention back to the two drecks.
“Their names are Grotek and Chane.” She pointed to each in turn, signaling who was who.
She let their memories wash through her. “And Apostle. John Apostle. He’s there, too, and—”
“No. That’s impossible!” Micah barked. He shook his head, hands in the air as if pushing her words back at her.
“You’re wrong,” Trace added, his voice deep and powerful.
“No, I’m not.”
She knew why Trace sounded so certain, though. When she had been in Trace’s mind earlier, she had caught a glimpse of what he had done to the dreck he thought had been Apostle. If Bain knew Trace was responsible for that massacre from two months ago, Trace’s punishment would be a lot harsher than it already was. That little stunt had taken a lot of finagling and political diplomacy for Bain to smooth over with Royce, the dreck liege.
“I heard Apostle was killed, Cordray?” King Bain said.
“The report of his death was a mistake.” Cordray looked from Trace to Micah and back again.
It was clear from their expressions that they knew she knew the truth.
“Apostle had a twin,” she said, her voice steady as she narrowed her eyes on Micah, whose brow furrowed at her words. She knew what she was about to say would cause an uproar. “His name was Deacon.” Realization began to alight in the eyes of those around the table. “Deacon was the one who was killed, not Apostle. And Bishop is Apostle’s other brother. Bishop is far deadlier than Apostle, based on what I’m picking up from these two.” She nodded toward Grotek and Chane. “Bishop’s the one you have to worry about, but Apostle’s no picnic, either.”
The color drained from Micah’s face as he and Trace exchanged glances, and within an instant, Micah had his cell phone in his hand, probably sending a message to Sam to warn her. Cordray knew the connection between Apostle and Sam from the thoughts she had picked up from both Micah and Trace, and Micah had good reason to be concerned. Still, she didn’t think Micah had cause to worry in the immediate future.
“I don’t think Apostle is after Sam, Micah.” Granted, she only had the thoughts of Grotek and Chane to sift through, but deductive reasoning dictated that if Apostle was more concerned with Miriam, he likely didn’t know about Sam. If he knew she was still alive, he would likely go after her over anyone else to exact revenge.
Micah shot her an eat-shit glance and continued typing on his phone.
Murmurs broke out around the table, and everyone turned a nervous, concerned eye toward Micah. Apparently, they all knew what Apostle’s return to Chicago meant, too. Micah and Sam could be in danger. Apostle would have a serious bone to pick with Micah for what had happened in January.
But as big a splash as the news about Apostle had created, she knew what she had to say next would make an even bigger one.
“There’s more,” she said, turning back to the two drecks, who remained still as stone as she kept them tranced during her mind sweep. “Miriam….”
“What about her? What’s wrong?” King Bain shot forward in his chair.
“She’s fine. Better than fine.” Cordray paused. “She’s pregnant. I would say Io is the father.”
As expected, the room exploded into an uproar, voices talking over one another. But when Bain’s fist landed on the massive, round table, everyone fell silent.
“I want Io! He’ll pay for this!”
Cordray swung her gaze around. “No. Haven’t you learned a thing from what’s happened here?” Her half-brother could be so dense when he wasn’t acting as the king.
Several gasps broke from the others in attendance. She had always been granted an amazing margin of leniency when addressing him. No one else had to know why, and she had no problem keeping her relationship to him a secret, so to hell with everyone else when it came to how she and Bain talked to one another.
Bain stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is you almost lost your daughter, Bain. And she has formed an attachment to Io the way a male attaches to a mate. If you kill Io or even try to harm him, it could kill her or cause irreversible damage.” She stared at him. “Do you hear me?”
More gasps, but she didn’t care. Her main concern was Miriam, and Bain was out of line. He had been for a long time where Miriam was concerned.
“But Io broke the law. He knew the consequences.”
Cordray stood her ground. “And so do you. If you kill Io, Miriam could die. If you hurt him or take him away from her, she will hate you forever. You will lose Miriam forever, Bain. Do you understand? I advise you to think long and hard about how you will handle this situation, because your reaction will directly affect Miriam’s reaction. And since she has your blood in her veins, she will be just as stubborn and convicted of her choice as you are of yours, only she will have biology on her side through her link to Io. That gives her the advantage.”
She knew that if anyone else had spoken so candidly to him, they would already have been removed from his presence, but Bain knew she only had his best interests at heart and that she only spoke the truth. They shared a bond that was stronger than that of even full-blooded siblings. She and Bain were truly bound to one another through not only their father’s blood, but also through a mutual devotion to the well-being of the other.
Cordray didn’t kiss his ass or blow smoke up it. She said it like it was and didn’t mince words. Not with anyone, but especially not with Bain.
All of the above made her one of Bain’s most trusted consultants. All the others had their noses so far up his ass it was a wonder they didn’t spit his shit. When Bain wanted honesty, he came to her.
Case in point, Bain’s gaze wavered on hers then darted across the room. She knew she had gotten through.
“I will consider your advice,” Bain said, jutting his chin out as if the decision had been his and no one else’s.
“Good.” Cordray looked back to Grotek and Chane before Trace caught her eye again.
She turned toward him. “May I help you with something, Traceon?”
He shook his head, his pale eyes narrowing. “You have big balls there, sweetheart.”
She had wondered how long it would take before he voiced his thoughts about her. She had been reading them since the trial. He didn’t like her and couldn’t believe how she talked to Bain. Well, fuck him.
“That’s quite enough, Trace.” King Bain’s voice boomed beside her. “You’re already in enough trouble, or would you like me to extend your sentence?”
Trace’s gaze nearly cut through her as if he blamed her for the king’s reaction.
“No, Sire. My apologies.” With a final glare at her, Trace looked away.
But Micah refused to follow suit, his dark eyes shooting daggers at her. Obviously, those two had each other’s backs through thick and thin, just as she and Bain had each other’s. She also got the feeling without digging through his thoughts that Micah didn’t like that she knew the truth of what had happened to get Apostle’s twin killed. She held one hell of an ace over them with that tidbit of information. She had no intention of playing it, but they didn’t need to know that.
Lucky for her she had a mental barrier stronger than Trace’s to keep Micah’s little probey-dobey head out of hers. Cordray didn’t like anyone poking around in her thoughts. She had too much she wanted to keep hidden.
“Is there anything else, Cordray?” King Bain seemed restless.
She huffed, staring at Trace. He had done well in Miriam’s rescue, and he had suffered—was still suffering—from finding his father the way he had. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, the guy deserved some slack.
“I think you should consider shortening Trace’s sentence,” she said, knowing that Trace was already concerned about being locked away. She had caught a glimpse as to why, but it had only been a glimpse. He was one fucked up male that was for sure.
“Why?” Bain arched a black eyebrow at her, his jaw tensing. She might have had leeway, but in some things he didn’t like being challenged.
Trace and Micah both looked suspicious of her intentions.
“He helped save your daughter,” she said. “And he helped shut down a laboratory that served as a torture chamber. If our preliminary counts are accurate from our counterparts in Phoenix, he helped rescue over thirty vampires, including his father.” She turned toward Bain. “Don’t you think that deserves some leniency?”
Bain pursed his lips and rubbed his chin, glancing toward Trace as if measuring him up. “We’ll see.”
“I don’t need your charity, honey,” Trace said, practically spitting the words at her.
“It’s not charity, tough guy. Just shut up and hope he cuts down your sentence.” She sneered at him. “I know the thought of being locked up for a month scares the shit out of you, and I know why.” She looked from Trace to Micah and back again.
The two glared at each other, Trace’s eyes tightening as he pulled back slightly in his chair. He looked threatened, like a raccoon spooked by humans, freezing and rearing back on its hind legs. Obviously, Trace wasn’t used to letting others know so much, and the fact he couldn’t stop her from getting inside his thoughts didn’t sit well with him.
“Enough,” Bain said, shaking his head at them. “Fine. Traceon, for your contribution toward saving my daughter, as well as for your heroic sacrifice, I will reduce your sentence from one month to fifteen days. Is that acceptable, Cordray?”
She turned toward Bain. “Yes.”
“Is there anything else?” he asked.
“Nothing of consequence.”
“Good, then with nothing further, the punishments I handed down earlier will commence immediately. Tristan, you are to return home and remain there under house arrest for one month. Severin, you are suspended for one week without pay. And Traceon….” The King stood. “You will serve fifteen days in confinement and be suspended indefinitely without pay, pending review in three months.”
Micah stood and shouted, “He’s still suspended? What about—?”
King Bain raised his hand, cutting Micah off, and gave the guards a vicious glare to keep them back. Obviously, he remembered what had happened earlier when his guards had manhandled Micah, and he didn’t want to provoke Trace into a repeat performance.
“Micah, my decision is final. I will take his assistance into consideration in three months when we consider his reinstatement to AKM, but for now, that is my ruling.”
“What about me?” Micah said, jutting out his chin. “I was involved with helping Io and Miriam, too, but you haven’t punished me?”
“You weren’t involved in giving the order, or party to the mental manipulation of my guards, Micah,” King Bain said patiently.
“But I helped deceive you.”
What the hell was Micah doing? Did he want to be punished?
“Very well, Micah.” Bain sounded tired, as if he was suddenly weary and wanted only to rest. “I sentence you to one day suspension, without pay, to be enforced immediately. And then you will take over the team in Tristan’s absence.” The king gave Micah a long, hard look as both he and Tristan gaped. “And you will become the leader you were always meant to become. Is that understood?”
Cordray slowly stood and looked from Bain to Micah. This was an unexpected turn of events.
Bain ambled slowly around the table and stopped in front of Micah. “I am ready to see you fulfill the role you were meant to fulfill, Micah. The role my father and I had always intended for you to fill before….” Bain pressed his lips together and shook his head once. “Before Katarina’s death.”
“What role is that?” Micah stared at him suspiciously.
“In time, Micah.” The king rested a hand on Micah’s shoulder, smiled tightly, then turned and began to walk away. “For now, just know that I have grown weary of waiting. Now that you have Sam, and you seem to be back on track, I have my eye on you. Don’t disappoint me, Micah. Now, everyone, leave me.”
Cordray watched her brother trudge away as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. He had a lot to think about. And when her gaze met Trace’s as the guards pulled him away, she realized that she did, too.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Bishop stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring out the window of his new residence in a wooded, rolling area of northern Indiana. He had carefully selected the location from a dozen choices, choosing it because it was the crossroads between east and west. It was only a day or two’s drive to all the major cities surrounding it. New York, Chicago, Pittsburgh, St. Louis, Indianapolis. Even Florida could be reached in less than twenty-four hours if he drove straight through. He would be able to run a more efficient operation here, shipping subjects into his lab and back out to the streets in a fraction of the time he’d been able to from Arizona.
The place was still a mess, and it aggravated him no end that he’d had to move before he’d been ready, but it was what it was, and he could either be a sourpuss about it or look at the bright side. He chose the latter, even if the bright side was as dim as a twenty-five watt light bulb.
He had only been able to bring a handful of his test subjects, so he would have to begin an immediate re-stock. Luckily, this new facility had twice the number of cells as the one in Arizona, and the lab was bigger and better equipped.
Okay, so make that a forty-five watt light bulb.
After taking out one of his brown cigarettes, he closed his lips
around the gold filter and flicked up a flame on his etched, gold lighter. With a deep inhale, he turned and waved away the assistant who was arranging the last scorpion aquarium on the shelf in his new den.
The assistant scuttled away, and Bishop lifted the lid of one aquarium and beckoned his pet onto his hand.
Apostle’s voice shot out from the corner of his new office. “It wasn’t my fault!”
Time to christen the home.
With a sigh, Bishop walked toward him and knelt down. “I know, dear brother. But Jessup….” Bishop feigned remorse and shrugged one shoulder. “Well, he’s dead already, and someone needs to be punished for this failure.”
“I didn’t fail!” Apostle pulled on the chain that bound him to the reinforced wall, his eyes full of terror. “You’re the one who ordered her to be taken. If you had just stuck to my plan, none of this would have happened!”
“I know, brother. I know.” Bishop lowered his hand and the scorpion scurried onto Apostle’s leg, which jerked and twitched.
But Apostle’s ankles were shackled to bolts in the floor, so he couldn’t get away.
Bishop slowly stood and took a leisurely draw on his Sobranie. “From now on, you will convey to those who work for me what will happen if they fail, Apostle.”
“But you’re the one who failed!”
Apostle’s terrorized screams cut him off and touched Bishop’s ears like a symphony. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back to listen.
“I will make a strong leader out of you yet, my brother. Now, sing for me. Sing for me some more.”
What do you know? Apostle followed his order to the letter this time.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Trace had been locked up for over two days. No one had been allowed to see him, and hardly a sound reached him this far back in the king’s holding cells. He was completely alone, and with the rampant thoughts running amok through his mind, Trace wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand the isolation and sensory deprivation.
His greatest fear had always been that he would humiliate himself by losing hold of his power and going mutant. Now, he feared learning the truth of where his father had been all this time would tip the scale.