Mated (Dark Ties Book 2)

by A. Vers

  Though I still retain much of my humanity, a cat’s mind is simpler. More focused on the now, than the what may come.

  Something darts into the underbrush. My gut rumbles, needing the nourishment to fuel my changes. But I bypass the thick brush and make for the small waterway barely audible in the distance.

  The low croak of frogs ripple through the night. Their steady beat is as familiar with the bayou as the moss or fucking humidity.

  It’s been years since I was this far out. This close to pack land. But Ruin and Lilah needed somewhere far from the hustle and bustle of Lock Lake to crash.

  With Cap on the equivalent of a supernatural suspension and Lilah unable to work without wanting to bleed the irate drunks, they can’t afford much.

  Offering them the old family camp seemed like a good idea at the time.

  But being here is harder than I expected. I have too many memories tied to this fucking land, damn near none of them good, and it’s just bringing all that shit back to the surface.

  I pad through the bushes and up to the creek’s edge. Somewhere nearby, a faint trace of leather floats to my nose.

  For a moment, I consider changing back. Of asking the Fae Warrior if he ever misses the Sith: his home in Tennessee. But Fae are tight-lipped by nature and I really fucking doubt he wants to talk about the wonderful land of Fairy.

  I huff and lean my head down to lap at the water.

  My ears flick.

  I raise up, scanning the far bank and the distant trees for whatever just disturbed the Force. Even to my enhanced sight, there is nothing but the gentle sway of limbs in the breeze.

  The entire point in coming out here was to not deal with Callus and his fucking pack. To stay far from my ancestral home. And yet, the sense of wrongness—of waiting will not fade.

  Dropping down into the shallow rock bed, I pad slowly through the cool water and out onto the other bank, fur dripping. Every instinct is heightened, straining to the point of making my heart thud in meaty slaps inside my chest.

  I cast along the trodden path of Silver Rock land, noting the empty hollows from the pack’s paws and the distinct musk of shifter. They have been through here recently. And with the full moon in days, it’s not surprising. Game stays close to water, so the best hunting will be this far out. Far from the lodge and the beasts in human guise.

  Walking deeper into the shadows of Silver Rock, something echoes in my ears. Faint, almost non-existent. But there.

  I turn to the west, following the sound. It grows steadily louder, but as the sound reverberates, the hair raising flavor of raw meat coats my tongue. Aged pennies weave with marsh, tainting the once almost crisp scent of fresh blood.

  My body lowers on instinct, preparing for an ambush.

  I push through a hedge row at another break in the stream and stop.

  Across the bank, huddled in a bloody mess is a thin, athletic woman. Her thick hair is matted, woven with blood, and covering her face. I can’t tell if she is breathing at all. But it’s the pale jaguar lapping at her torn midsection that has me leaping across the stream.

  The beast jolts as I slam into it and knock it free of its prey. We roll over the soil and dead leaves. I come up fast, waiting. A low snarl pours from the other cat. It springs.

  We collide in a mass of fur and claw. Musk, cat, and something chemical fills my nose. Wrenching sideways, my teeth wind over an extended foreleg. I tear and snap at the thinner bones.

  The other cat yowls; the deep rumble echoes along with the frail beat of the woman’s heart.

  Alive? How the hell is she still alive?

  I swat with my paw, sending the other beast sprawling. Diving to the woman’s ruined side, I shift mid-step.

  It hurts, like ripping my human guise from the gut of my beast. “Gage,” I roar, and the sound is filled with the burn in my insides. But I know he will be near enough to hear. “Get Caine, damn it.”

  Another low growl spills from the cat. I whirl and drop to the earthen floor on my back as the beast sails for my head. My feet hook into its gut. Thighs bunching, I kick up. It flies overhead, across the bank, and into a cluster of thin trees. The branches crack. It yelps, flips over, and takes off like a fucking bullet.

  I hesitate, eyes scanning the brush for Gage. For anyone so I can give chase. There is no one. “God-damn it!”

  Glancing down to the near lifeless body of the woman, I try to rationalize what’s left of her.

  Claw marks rip through her muscular arms, thighs, and midsection. Her ankle is swollen, purple, and bleeding from a torn shifter bite.

  Is that it?

  Assessing quickly, I press my hands to her glistening, ruined stomach, trying to hold all the blood—and other stuff inside. “Gage! Damn it—”

  “T?”

  Relief rips through me. “Here.”

  A wash of garnet colored light flows over the forest floor and the woman’s blood soaked face. Gage and Caine damn near drop from above. The warrior falls to my side, swearing, as he rips his shirt from his torso. His upper body is pale moonlight and jet black tattoos in the dark, and I ignore the old burn scars covering him as he clamps his shirt around the woman’s frame.

  I raise her up so he can tie the material. He peers at her through eyes that glow like emerald beacons. “Fucking half her stomach is gone,” he mutters, assessing her in the bright light of our eyes. “I can’t fix this here.”

  “Where is the closest hospital?” Caine asks. His slacks are still on fire from his demon portal now floating feet away.

  I eye it wearily. The little bubble doesn’t look too solid, but we have no choice.

  Standing carefully with the woman in my arms, I look at him. “About fifteen miles south. Can you get us there?”

  His emo length dark hair holds highlights of red in the light from his magick, and his hellfire irises gleam at me from a sinister face.

  He opens the portal and holds it wide with one agile hand in answer. I climb in behind him.

  Gage waits on the forest floor. “The shifter?”

  My lips curl. “Took off. Go get Ruin and meet us at the hospital,” I call to the Fae male. “As soon as she is in their hands, we’ll come back.”

  He nods and dives through the trees, heading back to the lodge. The portal closes completely.

  Caine peers at me, his lean hands weaving sparks of ruby light. “Hold on. I’ve never carried this many before. It could get bumpy.”

  I’m five seconds from telling him to let me the fuck out, when his magick jolts us into the air at fucking warp speed. My spine collides against the portal. Everything blurs outside in a nauseating rush, and I tighten my hold on the woman. “Caine …” I warn.

  He cackles and weaves us over the tree tops. I try to keep my eyes locked out the front of his portal, or on the nearly black canopy below. But they keep straying over the woman.

  Who is she, and why was she on Silver Rock land?

  Even more fucking prominent, does the alpha know he has a rogue running unchecked nearby? Or was the other cat a skin-eater? The supernatural equivalent of a cannibalistic serial killer?

  Either option leaves me in a clusterfuck of epic proportions with no happy ending in sight.

  In order to find out who the man—err—woman-eater is, I need to confront Callus. And the Silver Rock Alpha may not want to talk to me.

  Owning as we were on his land without permission—and I never even told him I was in town …

  I grimace.

  Yeah …

  So fucking much for a peaceful full moon.

  Chapter 3

  Tanner

  Ruin paces across from me as Marcus Alport’s voice floats from the phone held between us. Once we got the woman in the hands of the capable staff, calling him was the next move. Hell, the only move.

  Even if I want to rush in guns blazing, I have to sit on my fucking thumbs until we go through the ‘diplomatic’ channels.

  “I’ve contacted the local coven house,” the K
ing of our coven says. “Devon knows you’re in town now. Though he was awful quick to ask questions on why my best team was in his territory.”

  Behind me, Horan shifts against the wall, his sword scraping on stone where it rests along his spine.

  Ruin winces as his gaze flows past me to the dark-haired woman standing next to Caine. “And what did you say?”

  Marcus snorts. “That you were on a honeymoon with your human wife, and I trust no one else to protect my child’s god-parents.”

  It’s only a partial lie. And the lie was fucking needed.

  No one can know that Lilah was changed to vampire. Not yet. And that came down from the powers on high.

  But even the European High Council’s orders—to stay silent about Lilah’s change—were cake compared to the stern lecture on killing the man responsible for killing her. Not that either Marcus or Ruin give a shit.

  Granted, I don’t have much respect for the hoity toity arrogant sonsofbitches overseas. But still. Appearances and all …

  “You will need to alert the local pack alpha, Tanner.”

  I swear under my breath. Gage looks at me where he holds the phone between the six of us. I wave it off.

  Fucking shit.

  For some reason, I really thought Devon would just run us out of town. And I really don’t like the part of myself that hoped he would.

  “Is that going to be a problem?” Marcus asks when I remain silent for too fucking long.

  Grimacing, I pretend to hang myself. “No, my lord.” I swing slowly on the imaginary rope. I’d rather hang myself for real than deal with Callus or any of his bullshit. “I’ll just pop on over and say hi.”

  “Good man,” Markus says mildly over the phone, either not picking up on or completely ignoring my sarcasm.

  Caine fucking falls out of his chair onto the hospital floor with silent laughter. My eyes roll and Ruin glares at both of us. I point at the demon now twisting from side to side. Ruin ignores me. But Lilah jabs Caine with her boot and motions him to knock the shit off.

  The demon complies in silence, erring to the woman he watches even when he doesn’t think someone is watching him.

  “You have Lock Lake aid if you need it, but try not to anger the locals,” Marcus continues uninterrupted. “The last thing I want to be blamed for is starting a turf war between the shifters and the vampires.”

  “Yeah, the fucking Council would execute us both then,” Ruin grumbles. Considering he is on probation for changing Lilah, he has every reason to stay off their Gods-damn radar. But I fucking doubt this is going to help.

  Any attack by beastkin is recorded. The beast’s pack, their alpha, their bloodline … Anything to keep from breeding the violence humanity has every reason to fear. And this shit is exactly why that fear even fucking exists.

  “Ruin, for the time being, I want you in charge,” Marcus commands.

  Gage sags in relief.

  I snicker and Caine and Lilah echo me.

  Ruin claps the Fae warrior on the shoulder and walks closer. “Of course, my lord.”

  Marcus grows silent for a beat of my heart. “If even a hint of Brightex surfaces in this …” he says slowly.

  I look at the phone in Gage’s hand as the others fall quiet around us. The tension thrums through the small hall.

  Funny thing about killing Lilah’s killer, the fucker had an in with the supernatural drug from Hell. Now we can’t find the supplier of said Hell drug. We are back to fucking square one. Numero-fucking-uno. And it’s even better here the second go-round.

  But without another way of locating the cache that should have been on the way to Georgia, we are on high alert for another outbreak of the shit. And after burying too many of our own a few months ago, it’s not something any of us want to fuck with again.

  But the chemical scent on the cat was a little too fucking familiar.

  Ruin’s dark irises fade under a faint sheen of gold light as he looks to each of us. “We got this, Marcus. Let us do what we do best.”

  I peer around at the others with a fist pump. “Go Dream Team!”

  Horan scoffs behind me and I flip the angel off with a flourish.

  The doors to the OR swish open. I turn, finger still raised.

  “Gotta go, Marcus,” Gage says behind me and the phone beeps.

  The Doc walks over; her red and gray hair is visible beneath her surgery cap. “The good news is she is stable. Bad news—she is too stable.”

  Her eyes lock on me. Owing as she is one of the fox-kin, she can scent what I am better than even Ruin. As the only other shifter present, I’m the buffer between the team and her packless body. “We are transferring her to outpatient. If she continues to heal this fast, within hours she will be ready to be released.”

  I scrub my face.

  Fuck.

  “Do you have any idea what species she is?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “You know as much as we do, Doc.”

  “With all the meds keeping her sedated, I can’t scent her breed and a blood panel is useless for the same reason,” the Doc mutters. She looks up, meeting my gaze head on. “Do you have proper holding materials? A cell? Due to the nature of her attack—”

  “That won’t be necessary,” I say, fast.

  Her brows raise. “I’m sorry, sir. But she was attacked. Bitten.” The way she says it is the way every pure-blood shifter does. Like it’s a fucking disease. “She cannot be trusted on her own during this month’s shift. I highly advise—”

  “And again,” I let a trickle of my Alpha Command fill my voice, “that won’t be necessary.”

  She blinks slowly, the motion languid. “Of course. So sorry, sir.”

  I nod. “What room is she in?” It’s an effort to gulp down the beast now hovering just behind my eyes, but I force it back.

  With a fucking sharp stick.

  She points, her expression still dazed. I push past her and start toward the human woman’s room.

  We may not be able to discern if she is dangerous by blood type or scent, but some good old-fashioned intel hasn’t let me down yet.

  Chapter 4

  Nisha

  I come awake slowly, skin too hot and every limb aching.

  Yeah. No more fighting shifters.

  “Holy fuck,” I moan.

  “If you feel like you looked earlier, I agree.”

  My head whips over, and my jaw drops.

  The guy is massive and fuck me hot. His dark, thick hair is shaven on the sides and left long on the top. Smoky silver eyes and full lips compliment a tan that can only be flawlessly natural. He leans against the glass window behind him, arms crossed over a lean, but muscular chest with one boot propped on the wall.

  He practically exudes charisma and sex.

  His tattooed biceps strain the obscenely tight cotton over his torso. Every dip and hollow of his thighs are visible in his poured on jeans. I sigh.

  And the motherfucker has god’s-gift-to-women tattooed across his forehead like a neon sign.

  “Where am I?” I ask.

  He raises a brow and slides over a bit. The nurse at the desk behind him has her eyes locked to her computer monitor. I gulp.

  Ah. Hospital.

  “Okay. New question.” I look at him. “What the fuck happened?”

  He smirks. “Nice language.”

  For the first time in seven years, my face scalds. “I’m in a hospital with no memory of getting here, cocksucker. You’d have a foul mouth too.”

  His smile is straight white teeth, but it’s menacing. Wild. My stomach gives an odd flip. “Cocksucker? Damn, woman. You don’t even know me.” He pushes from the wall and walks closer.

  There is something about being flat on my back that leaves me feeling oddly vulnerable with all that tan muscle so close. I start to push from the bed. “Don’t need to—”

  Calloused, hot hands land on my shoulders, searing me through the thin hospital gown.

  I still.

  My head
tilts back, and my eyes roll from a chiseled expanse of tattooed chest now visible under his gaping shirt, to the narrow, square line of his jaw above me. A single hoop pierces his nose, and the lines of his cheekbones could cut fucking glass.

  His silver eyes are almost dove grey, swirling. Inhuman. “You may want to stay in bed,” he advises, and a faint echo laces his tone.

  I push against him. He won’t budge.

  “Let me up.”

  He frowns at me. “Doctor’s orders. You have to stay in bed.” Those hot eyes trail over me. “You look fine to me, but I don’t have a med degree.” His heart thuds under my hand.

  The door opens. “T, stop hounding the woman.” A tall dark-haired male pushes into the room, followed closely by a twenty-ish guy with a braid of solid white curls and spring-green eyes.

  Fae. Has to be.

  But the guy holding me—T—doesn’t move.

  The dark-haired guy sweeps his midnight gaze over me. “How do you feel?” His voice is deep and trying for polite. It falls miles short.

  “You the Doc?” I snap.

  He raises a brow. “Not even in the fucking ballpark.” He turns to T, and something dark flashes at the small of his back.

  A handgun?

  I struggle in earnest. “Who the hell are you people?” I ask, voice incredulous. High.

  They turn back to me, expressions mild. “Keep your voice down,” Fae-guy snaps.

  My brows narrow and my lips purse. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  “Shit. I said not to crowd her, you three. T. Move.” The new voice is feminine and young.

  But they part like the god-damned Red Sea as a curvaceous young woman with brown waves walks between them. Even T releases me and moves one step back from the side of my bed.

  The woman’s blue eyes track over me. “Hi, I’m Lilah. What’s your name?”

  My eyes dip behind her to the wall of muscle.

  She waves her hand. “Ignore the brutes. They growl and generally just brood, but they’re decent sorts.”

  A low laugh sounds from the open doorway behind the white-haired guy. “Apparently, Lilah is delusional with the transition.”