Gypsy: Sons of Sangue

by Patricia A. Rasey

  Tamera turned on a few lights as she traveled farther inside, and illuminated the first floor of the house. Grabbing the remote, she pushed the ON and watched as the television faded into view. Lighting a few candles, the scent of cinnamon quickly filled the room. Anything to help mask the smell of her deception with Grayson. Sure Anton and she had a plan to get Grayson back, but rutting with him like an animal hadn’t been part of it. She stood on tiptoes and pulled a wineglass from the cupboard and a bottle of Shiraz from the wine rack.

  A knock sounded on the back door. What had Ryder forgotten? Instead of heading up the stairs with her wine for a much needed shower and relaxation, Tamera turned and headed for the back of the house. Before she had a chance to peer out the window to see who stood on the other side, the door flew inward and a hand encircled her neck. Her back struck the wall, knocking her breath from her as the bottle and glass hit the floor, splattering wine all over the old oak flooring and staining white-painted walls purple. The heady scent of the spilled wine filled the room.

  Tamera fought for air as she stared into the black, unforgiving eyes of Rosalee.

  Fuck.

  “Today is your fucking lucky day, bitch.”

  “How do you figure?” Tamera barely managed to croak.

  Rosalee’s fangs extended well beyond her lower lip. The primordial in her vampire form would likely play in her nightmares for many nights to come. Part of Tamera wished Rosalee would just follow through with her threats and end her existence right then and there. No more lies. She deserved no less. Tamera hated herself for what she had done and how she had deceived the Sons. All of them, not just Grayson. Once you made your bed with the devil, there was no going back.

  “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you?”

  Rosalee dropped her hold. Tamera replaced the psycho bitch’s hand with her own, as if her measly hand might keep Rosalee from snapping her neck.

  “Maybe you should.” Tamera’s voice came out horse. “When everyone finds out I drank from Gypsy on your orders, I’m as good as dead anyway.”

  “Follow me to the shed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, you fool.” Rosalee pointed at the mess of the floor. “That may mask my scent from being here, but if I walk farther into the house, Blondy will know I was here. Even though you say differently right now, I’m sure you don’t actually want our little secret to get out. Not without losing your precious Gypsy for good.”

  “That goes without saying.” Tamera held up her palm, indicating the outdoors. “Lead the way.”

  She followed Rosalee across the dewy grass. To Tamera’s good fortune, a light summer rain had blown in off the coast about the time of Tamera’s arrival back at the house. The rain would help further mask the primordial’s scent. Dread sat in the pit of Tamera’s stomach, the pain of her betrayal nearly crippling her. The baby steps she had gained with Grayson would be gone in a millisecond should he find out the about her sins.

  Tamera now realized how much better off she would’ve been had she not met the vindictive, crazy ass bitch in front of her. What the hell had she been thinking?

  All eternity.

  Plain and simple, she had wanted to live forever. Doing so with Grayson would have been the icing on the cake. She knew if she had waited for one of the Sons, leastwise Grayson, she would’ve never been chosen for a mate.

  Enter Rosalee, with promises of an everlasting life with the one man Tamera desired over all others. Rosalee had offered her a chance to live forever with the Sons’ biggest playboy. Tamera had wound up mated to Grayson, yes, but he had also moved out of the clubhouse posthaste, and she spent the better part of nine months trying to convince him they belonged together. In the end, though, he had given her to Anton. Which no doubt resulted in Rosalee standing before her now, looking as if she wanted to wipe Tamera from the very ground they both stood.

  Rain misted her hair and dampened her clothes by the time they made it to the shed at the back of the mowed lot where Anton had stacked the firewood a few days ago. She turned and faced Rosalee, wiping away the damp strands of hair sticking to her face. Water droplets clung to her lashes.

  Raising her hands, palms up, she asked, “So is this how it’s going to end? Blondy will find me dead when he returns?”

  “You stupid little twit.”

  Rosalee bared her fangs, scaring the hell out of Tamera, though she refused to show it. The primordial was one bitch she should have never gotten into bed with. Once Grayson found out, she might as well be dead. He’d never give her the time of day again. How had she ever thought, for one moment, obtaining immortality by the way Rosalee suggested would end well? Rosalee would never allow her to walk away with her life should she out the evil bitch.

  “I ought to take your head. But fortunately for you, I don’t think you have outlived your usefulness … yet.”

  “Oh, come on!” Tamera’s voice rose, having had enough. “What more do you want from me? I don’t even live in the clubhouse now. How much inside intel can I get out here in bum fucking Egypt? Not to mention Blondy doesn’t talk shop. He’s like a vault!”

  “Well, that wasn’t who you were almost fucking, now was it?”

  Tamera’s mouth dropped. She didn’t know what to say to that. How had Rosalee been privy to what had happened in Draven’s room? She hadn’t detected another vampire scent until Vlad had stepped into the room, other than Ryder, of course. And she and Grayson had been far too busy to notice Vlad’s scent until he stood in the same room. Her face heated all over again at the thought of the elder watching.

  And now Rosalee knew? Just shoot her now.

  “I have people all over.” Rosalee stepped within beheading distance. “Don’t be foolish enough to think you can hide anything from me.”

  “What do you want me from me, Rosalee?”

  “Now that we know Gypsy wants in those tight jeans of yours, it’s your job to get back in the clubhouse where you are of use to me. Fail, then you will outlive your usefulness.”

  Tamera took a deep breath. It was now or never. She could no longer live in fear of being found out. “Then kill me now.”

  “You have a death wish?”

  “I have a wish to be done with this. All I wanted was to live forever … with Gypsy. He threw me out, Rosalee. I should just apologize now, tell him how I stupidly listened to you—”

  The slap that connected with her cheek, damn near felt like it separated her spine.

  “You will do no such thing.”

  Tamera had to act. She could no longer allow Rosalee to rule her. “You will have to take my life to stop me. I will not live the rest of my life in fear of you, nor will I be the reason someone suffers.”

  Rosalee reached out, twirled a lock of Tamera’s damp hair about her forefinger before yanking it tight and pulling her head to the side. Pain seared her scalp. “Don’t cross me, Tamera. If you do, you’ll wish all I did was take your head. Now get your ass back into that clubhouse. I don’t care how, all I care is you succeed. Failure is not an option. If you don’t, it will be baby Stefan who loses his life.”

  A set of headlights lit the long drive, alerting them Anton had returned in his two-toned green and white 1968 Ford pickup. Other than a motorcycle, Tamera had always loved the older style of trucks, having grown up with her father’s love of them. Before she turned her attention back, Rosalee was gone. Tamera stood in the drizzling rain, alone, as if Rosalee hadn’t been there.

  She started the trek back to the house, across the wet lawn, as if she walked the green mile. Failure is not an option. Unless she found a way out of this mess, Suzi and Kaleb would lose something far more precious than their own lives. And all because Tamera had been the biggest fool of all.

  Tamera looked up at the approaching truck. The headlights landed on her. She’d need a good excuse as to why she stood in the rain. Before she even made it to the porch, Anton jumped from the cab of his truck, and jogged up the walkway, a look of consternation crossing his
face.

  “What are you doing in the rain and out here unprotected?”

  His tone spoke of his displeasure to find her outside when he specifically ordered her to stay inside, doors bolted. Kaleb’s demand he stay by her side, probably played through his mind. It wouldn’t set well with the club P if she had been harmed by one of the rival MC members while on Anton’s watch, all because he had left her unprotected.

  Tamera couldn’t imagine how pissed Anton was going to be when he found out she left the house and had gone to the Rave on her own. Sooner than later, Vlad would summon them, then her omission would come out. No one got hurt, no foul. Well, other than Rosalee’s untimely appearance and her threat on the child. Tamera would keep that little tidbit to herself, for now.

  “Let’s get inside first. I’m chilled” Tamera rubbed her arms for added emphasis. “I need to get some dry clothes.”

  “Had you stayed indoors—”

  “Then a baby deer would still be stuck in your fence.”

  “A deer?” Anton placed his palm on the small of her back and ushered her into the house. “You realize it could’ve been a trap to lure you out of the house?”

  Anton grabbed a towel from a shelf in the utility room and handed it to her. She fluffed her hair with it before running the white terry cloth down her arms. Hopefully being a wet mess would be enough to detract from Rosalee’s or Grayson’s scents.

  “Nothing happened, Blondy. I’m fine.” She handed him the towel back, which he tossed into a laundry basket. “I was just about to shower when I looked out the bathroom window and saw the poor deer with his head stuck through your wired fence. If I wouldn’t have helped him, he surely would have hanged himself.”

  “What the hell happened here?” Anton’s hand indicated the mess of spilled wine and broken glass as his nostrils slightly flared, enough it caught her attention and had her worrying about being able to detect Rosalee.

  “I was about to have some wine. I got clumsy. I’ll clean it.” She needed to quickly change the subject. Smoothing a hand down his dark blue tee, a Pink Floyd album cover gracing his chest, she asked, “So where have you been? You smell like a woman. Kimber?”

  Anton backed away, turned and headed for the kitchen. “I don’t believe that’s part of our agreement. I said I’d help you get Gypsy back. And that’s what I intend to do. What I do or who I do it with wasn’t part of the equation.”

  “Sorry,” Tamera said as she trotted after him. “I was only making conversation.”

  “Well, don’t.” Anton opened the cabinet and took out a glass and filled it with the bottle of whiskey he left sitting on the granite countertop. “Want one?”

  She shook her head. The whole bottle wouldn’t help calm her nerves. “I was thinking maybe communion.”

  He watched her for a long moment, tossed back his drink, then said, “I’ll shower first. When I’m done, we can head for the Rave.”

  Tamera consented with a nod, silently wondering what had happened while Anton had been gone. Short tempered and moody, Tamera couldn’t help but think whatever it was, it wasn’t to his favor.

  “I’ll clean up the mess in the utility room, then I think I’ll take a quick shower as well and meet you back down here in fifteen.”

  Tamera hoped she wasn’t the cause of his mood drop. Otherwise, she feared he might have detected the scent of either Grayson or Rosalee. Either way, it would spell trouble. Anton would be livid to know she went against his orders to stay put, going to the Rave unprotected in hopes to find Grayson there, but that would be nothing compared to how he’d feel if he knew Rosalee stood in his backyard.

  Chapter 14

  All of the key members of the Sons of Sangue sat around the table. The church meeting had been called to order. Every chair was filled, save for Ion’s. They had agreed when Kane’s son had lost his life his seat at the table would remain unfilled out of respect for the fallen beloved son. Now that Stefan was born, the question had been put to the table whether Kaleb’s son should one day occupy Ion’s chair, when he turned of age to join the MC and follow in his father’s footsteps.

  Kaleb glanced at Kane, who sat at the back of the room, his expression masked. Kane had lost his seat as pres and still held no voting rights due to the turning of his mate without majority vote of the room. Grayson had turned Ryder without a club vote as well. The difference being Grayson had sought approval from those he could get a hold of before doing so. Kane hadn’t bothered to consult any of the Sons, Kaleb included, even though Kaleb had been present at the time Cara had nearly lost her life. Maybe had he checked with Kaleb, then the vote would have gone differently for him.

  “Ion was your son, Viper. You were club P at the time we voted on your son’s seat remaining unoccupied at the table.” Kaleb toyed with the gavel handle, his gaze taking in the table. “I won’t dishonor Ion by putting it to a vote. I seek only your approval. Will Stefan occupy Ion’s seat one day?” he asked as he looked up and sought his twin’s gaze.

  Ion had been born and bred to one day head the Sons, to take over Kane’s spot as club P. Now that Kaleb was club P, it only made sense his son would eventually take his father’s seat. Kane stood and approached the empty chair. He placed both hands on the leather back, his gaze taking in the original members.

  “I loved my son, and I’m thrilled we honored him. But the hard truth of the matter is he won’t be coming back. It seems fitting his cousin, my nephew and the current club president’s son, should grow up one day to fill his shoes and follow in his father’s footsteps. I think if Ion was here, he’d agree. We meant to honor my son by keeping his seat vacant. In truth, it’s just a painful reminder.”

  “Then I ask you, Viper, to take my son’s seat until he’s old enough to occupy it himself. You deserve your place back at the table as past president and you should have your voting rights reinstated.” Kaleb looked around the room, his gaze stopping on each member of the circle. The prospects, Ryder included, stood to the back of the room with no voice in the matter. “I say we put it to a vote. Do I have a second?”

  Grayson nodded, his gaze on Kane. “I second Viper return to the table.”

  “Then all those in favor of Viper returning to the table as a voting member of the Sons of Sangue, with the given title of Past P?”

  “Where does that land in the hierarchy?” Grigore asked. “P sits at the top with VP at the right hand. Where does Past P fit into this?”

  “Fair question, Wolf. I say Past P holds the same as club P in my absence. He answers to no one other than me, and all others answer to him should I be unable to be here.”

  “How’s the VP feel about that? Gypsy’s second in charge. This will put him third in charge,” Alexander said, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his short cropped hair. “VP has always acted in the president’s absence.”

  “I have no problem answering to Viper,” Grayson spoke up. “He’s my brother and I hold him in high esteem. To me, Kane and Kaleb are the heart of this MC. They started the Sons of Sangue. This isn’t about power, but about respect.”

  “Then let’s put it to a vote.”

  Kaleb asked each member in turn sitting around the table, followed by an “Aye” from each of them. He smacked the mallet against the strike plate, the sound reverberating through the room. The members had spoken. Kane had been returned to the table with full voting rights. For now, he’d occupy Stefan’s seat until the child was old enough to take it himself. Kane had returned to his rightful spot at the table beside Kaleb.

  Kane pulled out Ion’s chair and sat next to Kaleb, Grayson sitting to Kaleb’s right. All men nodded their approval. The twins were back at the table’s head as it should be. Grayson placed his hands together and started to clap, all Sons following suit until a smile grew wide on Kane’s face.

  “Thank you, my brothers,” he said once the noise died down. Being the president for so many years, it had to be incredibly hard for Kane to sit in the back without a voice.
“It feels good to be back.”

  Grayson’s gaze traveled to Anton, who seemed a bit preoccupied as he rolled the ink pen between forefinger and thumb. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened once Tamera returned from the Rave. Surely Kaleb wasn’t privy to the fact Anton had allowed Tamera out of his sight during a lockdown. Grayson wasn’t dick enough to bring it up either. But since Vlad knew, it was only a matter of time before the truth came out about Anton’s faux pas, and Grayson’s having taken advantage.

  How the hell had he allowed things to go so incredibly wrong? Grayson had no choice now than to leave Tamera to Anton and move forward. Vlad had said he would take her head. The man wasn’t known for making threats. Following the meeting, he’d take Ryder and head for the shore for a few days of surfing and de-stress. He needed to put as much distance between him and Tamera as possible. Get his head screwed on straight. He couldn’t think of a better way than sand and surf to clear his thoughts and put things back into perspective.

  Providing he wasn’t needed.

  If Kaleb’s next line of business was to take out the Devils who tried to end Ryder’s life, then he’d gladly be the man to do it. Those bastards deserved nothing less than death. As a matter of fact, chasing down those bastards sounded like exactly what he needed to take his mind off Tamera Cantrell. His gaze traveled back to Anton. No doubt feeling Grayson’s interest, he looked up from the table. So many questions Grayson wanted answered, yet the blond vampire wasn’t giving anything away. He couldn’t get a read on him, nor was now the time for their petty personal business.

  Kaleb cleared his throat, gaining all their attention. He motioned Ryder forward. The newly turned vamp left his spot against the wall at the back of the room, coming to stand by Kaleb. “Tell the rest of the club what you told me earlier.”