Gypsy: Sons of Sangue

by Patricia A. Rasey

  Cara smiled. “No, I don’t suppose.”

  The door opened again and Suzi Stevens stood in the doorframe, silhouetted by the hall light. Her hand rested in the middle of her back, supporting the roundness of her belly, now heavy with Kaleb Tepes’s firstborn.

  “Did I hear someone might be finally hungry?” Suzi laughed easily. Pregnancy looked good on her. Her small frame appeared all the tinier with her huge belly jutting out front. “Donors are on the way. Draven said they’d be here within the half hour.”

  “You tell Draven to find us some guy donors?” Cara smiled, her eyes twinkling in merriment. “I’m personally getting tired of sucking on all these females’ necks. Equal opportunity, I say. If the guys can drink from women, then why can’t we drink from men?”

  “I get the same argument from Draven every time I bring it up, ‘Tell that to your mate.’” Suzi waddled over to the bed. “Kaleb would likely kill the first donor male to offer me his neck. He’s far too jealous. He’d be out there threatening to drain the first male who offered. Poor guy would be lucky if he walked away unscathed.”

  Suzi was correct when it came to her and Cara’s mates. The men were far too controlling to ever allow their women to feed from the neck of a male donor. Even if it was a double standard. Maybe she ought to be the first to test the invisible boundaries set since, technically, she didn’t have a mate who gave a damn.

  “It certainly doesn’t keep me from giving Hawk a hard time about it.” Suzi laughed. The hand not bracing her back rubbed her belly. “Someone has to keep him on his toes. He’s far too cocky for his own good.”

  “You can say that again.” Cara winked at her best friend. It was no secret Kaleb and Cara hadn’t exactly liked each other when she had first become Kane’s mate. “Thank goodness you came along, or none of us would be able to live with his arrogant ass.”

  “So what’s going on out there?” Tamera asked, bringing their focus back to the commotion going on at the front of the clubhouse.

  Not only did she catch the heady smell of human blood, but of Grayson’s unique scent as well. Her anxiety rose. Part of her needed to see for herself that he was okay. The other part wanted to hide out in his room until he returned to the farmhouse. With her present complexion, she wasn’t about to win any beauty pageants. She supposed, in hindsight, she should’ve gone to the Rave the night before when the women had offered to accompany her. No matter, donors would be here soon. She’d stay out of sight until one arrived.

  “As I said,” Cara spoke, “Gypsy’s informant nearly lost his head, throat slit from ear to ear. Had it not been for Gypsy, he’d most definitely be swimming with the sharks right about now.”

  “Why bring him here? Shouldn’t they have taken him to the hospital?”

  “No time.” Cara slowly shook her head. “He called Kaleb and got permission to turn him.”

  “Seriously?” Tamera raised a brow. “I thought a turning required a vote of the entire club.”

  “No time for that either. Gypsy vouched for the man, said he’s known him for a couple of years,” Cara said. “Kaleb gave permission to turn him and bring him onboard as a prospect. Kane seconded Kaleb’s decision. Hell, the man’s been working for us to try and bring down the Devils and the cartel. We sort of owed him. If he doesn’t work out, then it’s Gypsy’s responsibility to take him out.”

  “Gypsy made the decision to turn the man without his consent?”

  “Sort of like you made the decision to be my mate without mine,” Grayson said as he entered the room, his hard black gaze landing on Tamera’s. “Suzi and Cara… Leave.”

  Cara’s glare said she wasn’t pleased with Grayson’s command. Rather than worsen his mood, most likely for Tamera’s sake, she rose from the bed, walked over to Tamera and whispered, “If you need me, I’m right outside.”

  “She won’t need you,” Grayson all but hissed, his hearing easily picking up Cara’s offer. He looked briefly at Kaleb’s pregnant mate. “Send a donor in as soon as one arrives.”

  Suzi narrowed her gaze, said, “Mind your manners, you ass,” then waddled out of the room, following Cara.

  When she meant to leave the door open, Grayson’s directive of, “Shut it,” had her slamming the door in her wake.

  The famed painting, The Sleeping Venus by artist Paul Delvaux, that hung above the king-sized bed, rattled against the wall. The Tepes brothers claimed the painting was an original, that the one on display at Tate Liverpool was in fact the reproduction. They refused to expound further on the subject. Tamera wasn’t sure if they spoke the truth or jested. But she wouldn’t put it past the playboy vamp to have somehow snagged an erotic piece of artwork. Her gaze traveled back to the maddeningly handsome vampire as he stood before her, looking good enough to sink her fangs into, road filth, blood and all.

  Neither Cara nor Suzi were thrilled with Grayson’s actions, that much was evident in their departure. But out of respect for Tamera, they kept their opinions to themselves when in her company … mostly. Both Cara and Suzi were Team Anton, regardless of Tamera’s feelings on the matter. They did their collective best in trying to get her to see what a better catch the blond vampire was. Not that Tamera could argue. But her heart was definitely Team Grayson. She couldn’t change what her heart wanted, no matter how stupid her brain knew the decision to be.

  Tamera let out a sigh and prepared for battle. It always was with Grayson. “What do you want, Gypsy?”

  “Now that’s no way to treat your mate.”

  “Then maybe you need to act like one.”

  His nostrils flared, his obsidian gaze traveling the length of her. “Don’t tempt me.”

  Tamera laughed, feeling none of the humor. “That’s rich, Gypsy. I could strip naked and lay in that bed and you still wouldn’t act like a mate. So what is your real reason for being here?”

  “Blondy.”

  “What about him?”

  “Stay the fuck away from him.”

  “Are you serious? You don’t want me. You’ve made that perfectly clear.” Tamera’s voice trembled in her rising ire. “Vlad isn’t giving me much of a choice here. It’s you or Blondy. And you have made it perfectly clear you don’t want in on that equation.”

  “You are still my mate until I say otherwise.”

  “Since when have I been anything other than a thorn in your side?”

  “È così vero, it is so true, il mio dolce rossa.”

  Tamera hated when he called her my sweet red. It was a wasted term of endearment. His gaze traveled about the room, no doubt seeing little change. Tamera had been careful not to put her stamp on the place. She wanted Grayson to be able to move back in without his room being a constant reminder of her as the previous occupant should she be given to Anton. He shouldn’t have to suffer for her actions. Even though she wished Grayson would pick her, she certainly couldn’t fault him if he didn’t. That didn’t mean she would make his decision easy for him. Hell no, she would fight him every step of the way.

  His black eyes landed on the unmade bed and stayed a long moment before glancing back at her. “You haven’t taken communion.”

  It wasn’t a question, it was an accusation. She crossed her arms over her breasts, trying damn hard to ignore the fact his desire had kicked up when he had taken in the satin sheets. The scent of human blood all over him overshadowed that of his rising lust. He hadn’t bothered cleaning up before entering his old domain. Normally, he wouldn’t have come near his old room while she occupied it. Why now?

  “Like you care.”

  “I’m not heartless, il mio dolce rossa.”

  Tamera let out a harrumph. “You could’ve fooled me.”

  “Never doubt that I desire you. That has never been an issue.” He took the last few steps separating them, leaving only a hand’s width between them. He leaned down, close enough his breath fanned her cheeks. “Trust me, il mio dolce rossa, I would much rather fuck you than stand here arguing with you.”

  Tears
moistened her eyes. “You’re quite the romantic. You sure know how to woo a woman.”

  “There is nothing romantic about my intentions where you’re concerned.”

  Grayson’s lips were but a breath away from touching hers, and God help her, she wanted to taste him, no matter how crude he treated her. And damn if she didn’t hate herself for it.

  “Then why not take what you want?” Tamera fisted her hands at her sides to keep from reaching out and touching him. “You and I both know I would never deny you. I’m already yours.”

  The infuriating vampire growled, but instead took a step back. She felt the separation like a bucket of ice water. “Don’t mistake my desire for anything other than it is, Tamera. No matter what my dick wants, my heart still hates you.”

  She couldn’t stop the tears from falling. The last thing she wanted was to give Grayson her dignity, and yet she had just handed it to him. Her heart ached at his beauty, beauty which would always be denied her. He really was a son of a bitch. She wanted to hate him, return his scorn. Yet, she only felt the heartache.

  Another knock sounded on the door. Grayson’s gaze stayed focused on hers. “Come in,” he growled his response.

  A young female donor walked into the room. Too cute for Tamera’s liking. She grit her aching teeth as she watched Grayson’s gaze roam over the petite young blonde, the complete opposite of her. Bastard. Tamera thought he meant to feed from the woman, right there in front of her, but instead he walked beyond the donor and said over his shoulder, “Eat,” before he quit the room.

  Tamera collapsed to the bed, no longer having the energy to stand. The young donor walked over, knelt between her spread knees and tilted her head to the side, offering Tamera her artery. She could no longer deny herself. Grasping the woman’s neck in one hand, Tamera sank her fangs into the donor’s flesh and drew in deep, mimicking the donor’s moan at the first taste of the woman’s blood.

  Chapter 3

  Grayson strode into the living area of the clubhouse, his mood blacker than when he arrived, if that were even possible. Christ, he had a double hard-on. One for the Devils and the two son of a bitches who nearly decapitated Ryder. No fucking way could he allow them to keep their heads. It was only a matter of time before he caught up to them.

  And one causing him and his leathers extreme discomfort at the moment. Could he possibly be any more transparent where his little mate was concerned? He should’ve just taken what his body ached for as he stood mere inches from the star attraction of his latest fantasies.

  Tamera Cantrell wreaked havoc with his self-control.

  Merda! Her sex appeal was off the charts. Just the scent of her desire tested his restraint. So much so, he was damn close to throwing away the last nine months of animosity and taking what his dick craved. It wasn’t as if he’d get any argument from her. On the contrary, she smelled like a bitch in heat any time he entered the same room.

  How long before she turned her desire toward Anton?

  The thought entered his brain like a bad mantra. It wasn’t as if his MC brother was as ugly as a mud fence. The vampire never seemed short on women, at least not once he set his sights on claiming Tamera as his own. Now that he thought about it, Grayson couldn’t remember the last time the blond vamp had brought a woman home. He ran a hand through his hair and gritted his teeth. Even the idea of the bastard’s big paws touching his mate rankled, inciting murderous rage within him. He hated the fact jealousy sluiced through him, gripping his gut. It proved his vulnerability where his mate was concerned, which only spelled trouble.

  Lucky for him, several others gathered in the living area, given the present situation with the Devils, or he might just about-face and take what Tamera had hoped for all along. He cursed beneath his breath. The closer they neared the year’s deadline, the more his resolve slipped. Truth of it? Tamera Cantrell was about the sexiest thing he had encountered in a long while. Even the thought of a party of three no longer appealed to him, not if one of them wasn’t his damnable mate. The question was, how the hell would he ever get her out of his head?

  “Gypsy?” Kaleb’s voice filtered through the fog of his brain.

  Grayson shook off the cravings he knew better than to entertain, to focus on Ryder Kelley lying on the clubhouse sofa. The man had definitely seen better days. The cut to his neck had nearly healed, leaving behind an angry red wound in its wake. For now the biker slept, but it wouldn’t be long before the change consumed him and fire coursed through his veins.

  “You want to give us some backstory on your friend here?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “How about the beginning, bro?” Kaleb’s ire seemed to rise off him like heat on asphalt. “You want to start with how you became friends with a rival club member?”

  Grayson leveled his glare on Anton, wondering how much the big ogre had already said. “We met at a friend’s house on the coast. I didn’t know he was a Devil until a week or so later.”

  “He know you were a Son?”

  “I never hide what I am, dude.” The fact Kaleb would even insinuate it started a slow burn in his gut. He pulled his soiled shirt over his head, his Sons of Sangue tattoo, a death skull with blood dripping from the fangs, proudly displayed on his left pec. He tapped the tat with his right fist. “They all knew. You accusing me of something, P?”

  “No, you ass.”

  “You’ve been hanging around your mate too long.” Grayson looked briefly at Suzi, who smiled sweetly at Kaleb repeating her all-too frequent description for him. “What’s your point then?” he asked as he looked back at his first in command.

  “I can’t help but wonder why Ryder hung at the house with you. I mean, surfing isn’t exactly a common activity among bikers. Maybe he was using your pastime as a way to get to the Sons. Find out what we were up to.”

  “And take two years to do that? Seriously? Look, the man wanted out of the Devils. You and I both know they aren’t letting you walk away.” Grayson tossed his soiled shirt over the arm of the sofa where Ryder lay. “We spent a lot of time out on that beach. You get to know a person. We agreed that was the one place we left prejudices behind. About a year in, he started talking, telling me how he wanted out.”

  “And you believed him?”

  Grayson’s gaze traveled the room. Kane and Cara sat on the opposite sofa listening intently, while Suzi occupied the chair next to where Kaleb stood. Anton sat on a bar stool sipping a Jack Daniels, one booted foot on the chair rail. His smirk told Grayson he enjoyed Kaleb’s inquisition a bit too much. Draven and three donors stood behind the bar.

  Looking back at Kaleb, he squared his shoulders. “I did.”

  “Why?”

  Grayson walked over to Ryder, gripped the front of his shirt and tore it down the center. Besides the ugly healing wound from the first gut wound he had received at the docks, an ugly age-old scar marred half his left pec, traveled up his shoulder to his neck and disappeared beneath the sleeve of the shirt. At one time, the man had been severely burned.

  Kaleb walked over to the sofa and looked down upon the large scar. It covered a good portion of his chest and shoulder. “Damn! What happened to him?”

  “He mentioned once to his MC that he wanted out. Told his P he met a woman and she didn’t like him being in the club. Said she wouldn’t marry him as long as he stayed in.”

  “So they did this to him?”

  “The cartel showed up.” Grayson ground his teeth. “We already know how well they like playing with fire. They lit his girlfriend, dude. Doused her first in gasoline. By the time they let go of him, she was totally engulfed. He still ran to her, tackled her to the ground in an attempt to put her out, burning himself in the process. It was too late. She didn’t make it. Turned out she was six weeks along at the time, carrying his unborn. He was left with the scar as a reminder of the whole ugly incident.”

  Grayson heard the intake of breath, caught his mate’s scent, telling him she stood but a few feet behin
d. The donor he had left her with walked to Draven’s side. He needed to focus, ignoring the ache in his gums. “He has his own reasons for hating the cartel.”

  “You think it’s all legit?”

  “Are you fucking serious? You see that scar?”

  Kaleb shrugged. “Several ways he could’ve gotten it.”

  “I met his girlfriend’s brother. He hung out at the beach from time to time. The man wasn’t MC.” He paused. “Look, Ryder told me the truth. The story had made the papers. Except they called her death gang related. No clue as to who had lit her up. Ryder deserves retribution. Just as you and Kane do. I’ll stand behind him. I agreed to sponsor him. He’ll be my responsibility.”

  “I’ll hold you to that, Gypsy.” Kaleb rubbed his jaw. “We’ll give him his day. But if he fucks up once, you take care of him.”

  “You have my word, P.”

  “Anyone else have anything to say on the matter?” Kaleb looked around the room, his gaze stopping on Anton’s. “You have any issues with it, Blondy?”

  He shook his head. “I gave Gypsy my blessing on the boat.”

  “Anything you want to add?”

  Anton looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead held up his partially filled glass of Jack and said, “Salute,” then downed the rest of the amber liquid. His gaze left Kaleb’s and traveled to a spot behind Grayson. He knew Anton looked at Tamera by the way the blond’s gaze darkened. Heat started low in Grayson’s gut and traveled his spine. He clenched his hands at his side to keep from walking over to his comrade and planting his fist in the center of the man’s face.

  “Can you be any more obvious, Blondy?”

  “You don’t want her.” The blond vamp growled. “Why not let her go already?”