by L. L. Raand
Drake smiled. “Yes. Is there anything about us they don’t know?”
“No.” Sylvan kissed her again. “We are their leaders.”
“I feel them all,” Drake said softly. “It’s amazing. You’re amazing. I love you.”
“I love you. Let’s go home.” Sylvan kissed her, and her wolf called Drake’s.
Sylvan howled, calling their wolves to run with them, and Drake joined her.
Chapter Three
Veronica Standish stood on the balcony of her 220-year-old brownstone facing Washington Park, sipping her black coffee, enjoying the cool breeze blowing through the thin satin robe she’d pulled on after her shower. Her damp hair curled on her shoulders, her nipples hardening pleasantly in the chill air. By noon the day would be hot, but right now, a few hours after dawn, the weather was perfect. Contemplating early-morning sex, and who she might call upon to accommodate her, she observed the runners streaming along the footpaths, wondering how many of them weren’t human. She wondered too why more humans weren’t outraged at the notion of creatures moving freely among them, imitating them, pretending to be human, while all the time endangering the human species. If the mutants weren’t directly preying upon humans like the Weres and Vampires, they were compelling, enchanting, or mind-manipulating humans to their own benefit. Long before the Exodus and the unveiling of the Praetern species, she had been working to perfect and preserve the human genome, so when she had discovered the presence of these deviant species she had immediately adapted her work to find ways to control them. She’d always had to be secretive about her true goals—now more than ever. The assault on her lab last night was a setback but, as with all negative outcomes, also an opportunity to learn and improve the experimental model.
Her hand shook at a surge of rage and she calmly refocused her mind. She could not afford to be emotional. She had to regain control, and quickly. No one else could be counted on to protect her work. She had assumed the mercenary guards Nicholas had provided, some of whom weren’t human, would be adequate security, but obviously she had been wrong to trust something so critical to him. The cat mongrels had been no match for the wolves, and the human guards even less so. What she needed was her own security force, and humans weren’t sufficient. She didn’t trust Weres—too primitive, and she’d never allow a Fae or Psi, who might be able to affect her mind, anywhere near her inner circle. But the Vampires—now, they were a real possibility. Her nipples tingled as she recalled the feeding she’d witnessed last night, a Vampire bleeding one of the wolf Weres, forcing the Were to orgasm. The Vampire had been breathtakingly powerful and had sexually dominated even the dominant Were. Just watching the Vampire feed had made her wet.
She’d speak to the Chancellor of the City about employing her own security going forward. She laughed quietly. The Vampires would have their uses, at least until the greater threat of the Weres—more numerous, more visible, and more organized—was neutralized. She’d deal with the Vampires later.
Turning away from the idyllic—and boring—early-morning scene, she strode through her bedroom to her office across the hall and settled behind her Louis XV desk. As she pulled several file folders toward her, she dialed Nicholas’s number. He answered on the first ring.
“Yes?” he said tersely.
“Good morning, darling. I hope you don’t mind me calling so early.”
“Of course not,” he said, although she detected an edge of annoyance in his voice. He had asked her not to call him at home.
She smiled. All the better for him to realize she didn’t play by anyone else’s rules. “How soon will we be able to convert one of the other labs so I can resume my work?”
“It will take some time, especially if we want to complete the conversion in secrecy.”
“After last night, secrecy is even more important,” she said. “The Weres have been alerted to our work now. They’ll be looking for us.”
“Perhaps we can create a diversion,” he said. “Something to focus their attention elsewhere.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea. In the meantime, we have the problem of the remaining subjects in the compromised lab.”
“We can move them temporarily,” he said.
She opened the first file and scanned a few tables of results. “I don’t think it’s worth it. Thus far, the results have been less than promising with them, and now they’re essentially contaminated specimens. I’d much rather start fresh.”
“We could drop them off at the hospital again and try to stir up some public anti-Were sentiment that way.”
“Ordinarily I’d agree,” she said, “but after last night, I don’t think we want to call attention to any part of our operation. Simple disposal would be better.”
He sighed. “Easier said than done.”
“Well, you know how frequent and devastating industrial accidents can be. If there was to be an explosion, for example, the lab would be destroyed and so would all the laboratory animals.”
“Jesus, Veronica—that’s a multimillion-dollar installation.”
She laughed. “Darling, that’s why you have insurance.”
*
After their run, Sylvan and Drake showered while the centuri circled their remote cabin, guarding them. Sylvan pulled on a pair of jeans as she watched Drake dress. Her mate had changed since her transformation. Her muscles had become more prominent, her cheekbones sharper, her gait more fluid. She’d been compelling as a human; she was breathtaking as a Were.
“Would you have loved me if I’d never changed?” Drake asked, pulling on a pair of charcoal camo BDUs. She caught Sylvan’s gaze, held it. Another thing only she could do. “Because I loved you even before.”
The uncertainty in Drake’s eyes struck Sylvan’s heart like a blade. Growling a warning low in her throat that would have put any other Were, wolf or not, on their belly, Sylvan leapt across the space between them and pulled Drake down on the heavy wood-framed bed, landing above her with her thighs caging Drake’s hips. “I knew you were mine the minute I saw you.”
Drake framed Sylvan’s face, still searching.
Sylvan rumbled but allowed the scrutiny. “What do you see?”
“An Alpha who might not have let herself claim a human.” Drake shuddered. “I’m sorry—I don’t know why—”
“Ask your wolf what she feels,” Sylvan whispered, kissing Drake’s throat. “Weres grow up learning to trust that truth. Our wolves see the world differently than we do when in skin. They aren’t misguided by convention or pretense. They connect by instinct, choose by nature, love…mate…with certainty.”
“I know.” Drake rubbed her cheek against Sylvan’s shoulder. “I feel our bond. I don’t know why I even think about what might have happened if I hadn’t turned.”
Sylvan laughed and pushed down on the bed. She kissed Drake’s tight stomach, noting the faintest swelling that hadn’t been there the day before. “Maybe they have something to do with it.”
Drake groaned. “Oh no. Not already. I refuse to be crazy this entire pregnancy.”
“You can be as crazy as you like,” Sylvan whispered, rising up to kiss Drake again, “just never doubt I love you. And to answer your question, yes, I loved you before. I would have had you, or no one.”
“Ah God. I know that in my heart.” Drake brushed her fingers through Sylvan’s hair. “How long before they’re born?”
“Leo and Nadia said you are physically indistinguishable from a born Were. So sixty days.”
Drake jerked. “So soon?” She ran her hand down her belly. “Are they sentient?”
Sylvan nodded. “They will be soon. They’ll know us, feel the Pack and each other.”
“And they’ll look like you.”
“Maybe.” Sylvan rested her chin on Drake’s and grinned. “The hormones in my victus carried my DNA and the reproductive catalysts, but your DNA carries the Were traits. They might look like you.”
“Hmm.” Drake licked at Sylvan’s mouth, kissed her. “I can’t
wait to see you with them.”
Sylvan’s chest tightened and a surge of adrenaline raced through her. “We can’t let anything endanger them. You should stay here—in the den—where you’ll all be safe.”
“For two months?” Drake asked carefully.
“Even longer would be better. Until they can run fast enough to avoid predators.”
“Predators?” Drake’s eyes widened. “What predators?”
Sylvan’s canines dropped and she snarled. “Other Weres. Humans.”
“Weres? Not our Weres.” Drake sat up, her body quivering.
Sylvan pulled Drake into her arms. “Wolves are territorial, and I don’t trust Bernardo’s wolves not to attack any of our young if they come upon them.” She caressed Drake’s back. “Nothing will hurt them. I swear.”
“How soon will they be able to shift? They’ll run faster then, be safer.”
“I don’t know. They won’t have any control until they’re adolescents. Before then, the pups will shift instinctively if threatened. The more dominant they are, the sooner they shift.”
Drake twisted in Sylvan’s lap, brushing her breasts over Sylvan’s. “Since they’re yours, they’ll probably shift as soon as they can move.”
Sylvan laughed. “Ours. They’re ours.”
“Yes,” Drake murmured, tucking her head in the curve of Sylvan’s throat. “And we have others to protect as well. I can’t hide away for months, Sylvan.”
“I know.” Sylvan sighed. “I’m going to the infirmary to talk to Katya and Gray.”
“I’d come with you, but I think they might be more comfortable with you alone. I’ll talk to Elena about their medical condition and you can brief me after.”
Sylvan wrapped her arms around Drake’s waist. “Promise you won’t leave the Compound without Jace and Jonathan.”
“With Lara absent and Niki assigned to guard her, the ranks of your centuri are already depleted. You shouldn’t reduce them further by assigning me your personal guards,” Drake protested.
Thunder rolled through Sylvan’s belly. “You are Prima, and pregnant. You should have all the centuri around you. By rights, I should confine you to the Compound.”
Drake raised a brow. “Oh really. In which millennium?”
Sylvan growled. “Don’t push me on this. I won’t have you at risk.”
Drake leaned into her and bit her chin. “I know, and I won’t worry you unnecessarily. I’m not planning on going anywhere until I’ve talked to you, and then I’ll take Jace and Jonathan with me. But I need to see the Revniks.”
“All right,” Sylvan said. “I need to go contact the rest of the Coalition. I want to find out if any of them had any inkling of what was going on in that laboratory in Vermont.”
“You actually think they would tell you?”
“Perhaps not, but I can usually tell when they’re lying.”
“If you need me for any reason, I won’t be far.”
Sylvan pulled her closer and kissed her hard. “Good. Because I need you again soon.”
Drake smiled. “That’s a far better way of keeping me close than restricting me to quarters.”
Sylvan rumbled. “Whatever it takes.”
*
Sylvan found Elena, the Pack medicus, in her small office at the front of the infirmary. Elena looked up as Sylvan stepped through the door, her dark eyes rimmed with shadows. Small, fine-boned, and nondominant, she appeared nonthreatening, but Sylvan knew Elena would fight as fiercely as any of her warriors to protect those in her care.
“Have you had any sleep?” Sylvan asked.
“Not much. It took me most of the night to evaluate both of them, just to be sure there were no acute problems needing attention.”
Sylvan closed the door behind her and leaned against it, folding her arms across her chest. “And?”
“They’re in bad shape, Alpha,” Elena said, sadness and fury streaking through her eyes. “They’re both malnourished, as well as having been physically and psychologically abused.”
“How?” Sylvan asked, her voice flat and cold as winter ice.
“They’ve been bound with silver—they have burns around their wrists and arms and waists. Probably chained to a wall.”
Sylvan snarled.
“Katya has tears on her neck. They look like bite marks.”
“Vampire?” Sylvan growled. Gates and her soldiers had all been outside the installation with her. She hadn’t seen any other Vampires inside.
“I think so. And there’s more,” Elena said wearily. “They both have multiple puncture sites at various places on their bodies where blood and tissue specimens have been taken. They’ve also been…manipulated in some way—electrostimulants, I would guess—to force emissions.”
Sylvan paced, her lips drawn back and her canines flashing. Silver streaked her bare chest and abdomen, hardened nipples tightened over the prominent muscles in her chest. “Are they permanently damaged?”
“Physically? I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Elena came around her desk, shoulders drooping. “Psychologically? Quite possibly. The silver prevented them from shifting, and then when Gray did last night, after so long—you saw her. Her control is gone. She shifted again early this morning and was barely restrainable. Misha was in the building and was able to talk her into shifting back, but I’m concerned we’re going to have to tranquilize her.”
“Don’t do that,” Sylvan ordered. “She’s already had too many drugs pumped into her, they both have. I could smell it on them.”
“I know, but I can’t let her attack someone. She’s strong, Alpha.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“It happened quickly, and I knew you and the Prima were resting. She needs all your attention now.”
Sylvan growled and halted a few inches in front of Elena. “I know what my mate needs. And I know what my Pack needs. Don’t keep anything from me about any of them again.”
“I understand,” Elena said quietly.
Sylvan sighed, gripped Elena’s shoulders, and pulled her close. She kissed her temple. “I don’t doubt your medical decisions, but when one of us is hurt, they need me more than ever.”
“We all need you more than ever.” Elena rested her cheek against Sylvan’s chest and held on with both arms around her shoulders. “Are you going to talk to them?”
“Yes.”
“They’ll want to please you. If they seem to be growing more agitated, more stressed, please stop. They’ve already suffered enough.”
Sylvan stroked Elena’s thick, tangled dark hair. “I know they have. But they’re safe here. And we’ll go at their pace as long as we can.”
“Thank you, Alpha.”
Sylvan nodded. “Call Misha to stand by. She, Katya, and Gray were all in the same sentrie training class. It might help them to have someone their own age around after.”
“I will.”
“And you should call your mate and spend some time with him. You’ll feel better.”
Elena laughed. “You’re probably right. But then, you always are.”
“Go call Roger,” Sylvan murmured. With her Pack under assault, she needed to be right now more than ever.
Chapter Four
Sensing the Vampire approaching outside her inner sanctum, Francesca gave one last swipe of her tongue to the bite in the smooth, warm flesh and raised her head from the human’s thigh. What is it, Daniela?
“I’m sorry, Mistress,” Daniela said from the hall outside Francesca’s boudoir. “A phone call.”
The aide-in-training was a youngling, recently risen, and not yet able to telepath her thoughts consistently. She had barely matured enough to remain aware during daylight hours, even deep in the protected caverns of Francesca’s lair. Sighing, Francesca turned away from the naked human stretched out on his back in the center of her bed. Her eyes met Michel’s lust-laced gaze across his chest, and she smiled. “Go ahead, darling. I won’t be long.”
Her senechal exhaled
, her small tight breasts streaked with crimson from the toying bites she’d scattered across the human’s abdomen, her sensuous mouth compressed. “I await your pleasure.”
Francesca ran her carnelian-tipped nail along Michel’s jaw. She’d let her enforcer fuck her after Michel returned from the lab where the humans were studying captive Weres, but she hadn’t let her feed. She’d discovered centuries past that the way to secure the fealty of her followers was to bestow favors—and pleasure—at unexpected moments. “I do love how loyal you are. You’re still hungry even after having that young Were, aren’t you darling?”
“I hunger for you.”
“Do you.” Michel was the oldest of her line, a powerful Vampire in her own right who could easily head a Clan—or lead a rebellion—but she continued to serve as Francesca’s second. Francesca kissed Michel and loosed her erotic spell, letting her thrall wash over Michel and the blood servant. Michel shuddered. The human writhed, his erection straining between his thighs. “Feed. Your pleasure will be mine.”
Snarling, Michel gripped the human’s head and bared his throat. She lowered her mouth, plunging her incisors into his neck. She groaned and swallowed. He whimpered in ecstasy. Francesca stroked Michel’s back, letting her fingers linger on her rhythmically thrusting ass, absorbing the tendrils of Michel’s orgasm, the shared release flowing through her consciousness, augmenting her hunger. When the vicarious pleasure had honed her need to a razor’s edge, she turned to the door. “Come.”
The iron-banded, arched oak door swung open on soundless hinges and Daniela glided into the room. Cinnamon skin, mahogany hair, deep green eyes—she was beautiful, intelligent, and submissive without being fragile. She’d been a blood servant since she’d been twenty, had accepted Francesca’s bond at twenty-five, and had petitioned to be turned immediately. Francesca had agreed to turn her as soon as the blood union was complete. Daniela’s body was still temptingly fresh, bearing the last vestiges of her fading mortality in the softness of her lush breasts and gently curving hips, but her control was fragile. The scent of blood and lust that soaked the air enveloped her, and her eyes shimmered with scarlet flames. Her nipples probed her sheer white silk shirt like ice picks. She dipped her head, incisors gleaming and leather-covered thighs trembling. Her need was ambrosia on Francesca’s tongue. “Mistress. There is a call from someone on your priority list. A Dr. Standish.”