Brogan and Jean-Luc stopped, with Marex and Nadine behind them.
After waiting a few seconds, it was she who asked, “Now what?”
“We wait,” Jean-Luc replied.
A snarling growl behind them had Marex whipping around, moving Nadine at his back, his canines coming down. Even with his keen vampire night-sight, the only thing he could see in the dark were two glowing eyes and sharp white teeth bared. While humans and domestic animals like cats and birds were easy to spot in the dark, underworld creatures like shifters were more difficult to spot, especially shifters. It was as if they camouflaged in the dark.
Where the hell had this thing been hiding?
“It’s all right,” Brogan said with a droll tone. “Just the male on shift. Pardon the pun. They always have one watching the door.”
Still, Marex’s heart pounded in his ears until, to his relief, the wolf retreated back in degrees like a revenant, until there was nothing left to see or hear.
Just then, a rumbling, cranking noise began and he and Nadine turned. The pile of rock and wood moved aside as one giant massive door. A deceiving little trick of the eye. He had to give them credit.
A man stood on the other side, tattooed, with muscled arms crossed. His hair was long, brushing the tops of broad shoulders, which strained in a red and blue flannel. After taking a look at each of them, he seemed reluctant as he said, “It’s cool, Tony. All good. You can back off.”
Marex guessed Tony was the shifter behind them somewhere in the dark.
“Good to see you again, Seth,” Jean-Luc greeted, but had yet to take a step forward. It was a vampire custom not to walk in without being officially invited, even though they were invited. Regardless of the host, whether they’d known them one hundred years or only a minute, they practiced this custom to the letter when visiting a place for the first time.
Seth grunted. “Right. Good to see you too, Frenchie.” He glanced over Jean-Luc’s shoulder. “Marex?”
Feeling no kind of threat, Marex drew his canines back in his gums. “That’s right.”
“Good. Get the hell in here.”
Beyond the boulder door was an empty space leading to yet another door, except it was not in disguise in its design: made of steel with a massive crank wheel Seth turned this way and that, grunting with the effort, before pulling it open to reveal surprisingly attractive living quarters. The walls had been outfitted with fresh brick, the floors evened out with oak. The only thing giving away its prior state were the train tracks running straight down the middle.
On the right side of the tracks was a kitchen, track lighting and all, followed by a series of basic home furniture beyond it: a sofa set, a pool table, and a very long wooden dining table for at least twenty. To the left was exercise equipment: a punching bag, weights, a pull-up bar, more of the same. Then a wall. Marex couldn’t see what was beyond that.
The steel door slammed closed behind them.
“Wait here,” Seth instructed before walking past them.
Marex gave a single nod, then turned toward Nadine. If she projected any sort of nervousness or fear, they were out of there. No door could stop him.
To his relief, she seemed fascinated by their surroundings, looking around in awe at the plentiful lighting, the weapons piled on a table near the door, the box with out-of-place stuffed animals near the heavy equipment. “Impressive. I can’t imagine what it took to get the supplies to put all this together,” she said. “Bringing in the wood alone would’ve been laboring.”
“Well,” Brogan drawled crossing his arms, “shifters are known for their building skills, making a den out of nothing so they feel at home wherever they go. And they enjoy hard labor. Keeps them physically and mentally strong on the human side, and sort of prevents the wolf from completely taking over. The two are always fighting for dominance.”
Jean-Luc huffed. “And since when do you know so much about shifters?”
“Since I asked.”
The Frenchman laughed. “And here I thought all they liked to do was fuck and hunt.”
An unfamiliar male voice cut through the conversation. “Oh, we do plenty of that, too.” Yards away, even bigger and taller than Seth, was Zander Kane. Marex knew it just by the look of him. The alpha. He remained where he stood.
Marex didn’t know if he should approach.
Since it was Kane’s home, and Marex was the one who needed help, he felt he had to go to him. The smirk on the alpha’s face proved that’s exactly what he thought too. Whatever. Marex refused to allow his pride get in the way of much bigger plans.
“Should I go with you?” Nadine whispered.
He cupped her cheek, then kissed her lips, just in case there was any question of who she was to him. “No, stay with Jean-Luc and Brogan. At least for now. I don’t think we’re in any danger.”
Either because of plain curiosity, or apprehension, she worriedly glanced over his shoulder at Kane, then met his gaze again. “I’ve never met an alpha before. Is it true they have to fight each other constantly to show who’s the more dominant one?”
A small smile tugged his mouth. “I don’t know, but I’m sure we can find out if you really want to know.”
More male voices broke the quiet as the steel door opened, and they were joined by two additional shifters.
Kane called to them. “Chase. Reed. These are our guests. Keep them company and give them whatever they need to be comfortable while Marex and I have a chat.”
“Right on,” said the one Marex assumed was Chase.
Were all shifters built like linebackers and lumberjacks? Or were these just the toughest and biggest of Kane’s pack, here simply to be bodyguards? From what he could see, there were no women around, and he knew shifters loved the company of their female counterparts. They saw them as equals but were fiercely protective of them. Perhaps that was the reason there were none here. Even though the shifters were offering refuge to Marex, they probably weren’t totally sure they could trust him, though the shifters were clearly in the majority, and any attack on a female—or a male for that matter—would garner nothing but a swift, gruesome death sentence.
Nonetheless he wished one or more women were here to give Nadine less of a male-dominated surrounding.
But she didn’t appear intimidated by Chase and Reed. The shifters called her, Jean-Luc, and Brogan over to the kitchen, asking them what they liked to drink besides blood.
With a rueful shake of his head, he left them, heading toward Kane. And it was surreal, those moments before they officially met, because he’d been trying for so long to make it happen, and now it was about to. Would it be worth what he’d been through? Or was he ultimately wasting his time?
He was about to find out.
Four
Months before he was set to meet with Kane, he’d sought out a mediator to take care of the communication between Kane’s people and his own. He then had her advise him on shifter’s customs and linguistic habits so he didn’t look like an ignorant asshole when they finally came face to face.
He even practiced with the mediator to get it right, and hoped the woman had taught him what he needed to know.
To his recollection, shifters didn’t shake hands; they grasped forearms as a respectful greeting. And cutting to the chase and conducting business right off the bat turned them off. They preferred small talk. A warm-up. They also weren’t very secretive, and sometimes what could start out as a one-on-one meeting could turn into a full-blown pack conference if the leader called for it.
All this and more tidbits of wisdom came to Marex’s mind. A few feet away, he stopped, eye to eye with one of the most notorious shifters in command. “Zander Kane. The one and only.”
The alpha’s mouth curved, but it wasn’t too friendly of a smile. He offered his hand, but Marex heartily grasped his forearm instead. Kane’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Marex Daulton. Like they say, at last we meet. I wasn’t sure it would happen. Or if I even wanted it to happen.”
He gestured to the sofas and chairs. “After you.”
Hesitant, because he wanted the seat that wouldn’t place his back on Nadine, Jean-Luc, and Brogan, Marex sensed it was where Kane preferred to sit. When he chose the other, Kane raised a brow. “Wouldn’t you rather be on the sofa that faces your friends?”
Ah, so the alpha had done his homework too. Vampires liked to face the entrance, with an exit in sight. Shifters had no such concerns, secure in their arrogance that if a situation arose, they could shift and fight their way out, whereas Marex’s kind preferred to talk their way out first, and fight last.
Marex took the loveseat he’d originally wanted. “Thanks.”
Kane folded his large form in the seat opposite him, draping his arms along the back, his stare direct and assessing. The way he inhaled long had Marex questioning if he was sniffing him out to memorize his scent, or just breathing. The man had dark brown eyes and dark hair he wore long around his ears, brushing the collar of his t-shirt, skin tanned from the sun, hands that looked rough, much like Marex’s own.
Neither of them spoke. Sizing each other up.
Who was supposed to start the conversation? Marex hadn’t a fucking clue where to begin if it was supposed to be him. The night of their scheduled meeting, he had a presentation of sorts, a list of points to make, a proposal of what could be done.
Now, he honestly had nothing.
Small talk it is.
He leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees, turning his palms, studying them. They were dirty, the calluses rimmed in black. Turning his hand over, he rubbed the raised, dark skin there, remembering how he’d gotten it.
“I thought vampires couldn’t scar,” Kane observed. “I was told your healing ability keeps your skin unblemished.”
“Depends. A surface cut, a first-degree burn, scratches from fingernails, those heal immediately. For deeper wounds, it takes drinking fresh blood to make them disappear, and sometimes that’s not always available.” It also took a lot of ice and rest, but the shifter didn’t need to know every single detail about how a vampire healed himself. He pointed to the deep circular scar on top of his left hand. “1854. Obsessed human. Nailed this hand to the wall in his basement with a bolt, trying to keep me as a pet.”
Kane lifted a brow, then held up his forearm, showing a long, jagged scar. “1953. Nasty witch with a poison-tipped dagger who didn’t like to be told no.”
“The ones that cast spells or an ex-girlfriend?”
Kane chuckled. He pulled away his T-shirt collar to reveal dark, square-like scar above his collarbone. “Bale hook. Washington.”
Marex hissed, shaking his head, bringing up his pant leg to show his right knee. “Packhaken hook. Germany.”
“Well, fuck. Here I thought vampires couldn’t have the privilege of being reminded of their past with a good old-fashioned scar. We consider them badges of survival. Or at least, tokens of times when our mortality has shown itself.”
“Some care more than others about maintaining a flawless visage. I myself like a few scars, so I am never opposed to a good permanent gash, if the story behind it is worth telling. Women, for instance, seem to think they’re sexy.”
This drew a grin from Kane that appeared nearly wolfish. “Yes, they do.” He jerked his chin. “Your woman. How long has she belonged to you?”
“All our lives, but if you mean literally, then since this morning when she helped me escape.”
Kane laughed. “When my men told me you’d not only managed to free yourself from the UCC’s clutches, but also survived getting off their cliff without getting eaten by their wolves, I insisted they reach out to Brogan to offer refuge. You were, at the very least, a male worth meeting.”
“Even at the risk of drawing the UCC’s eye? At the risk of putting your pack on their radar?”
“First of all, we’re not afraid of your fucking pansy council of spies and killers. Bring them on. Second, I’m confident this is the last place they would dare look. No one, except your men, know about our involvement, and my pack would rather die than betray me. Third…” He drew in a deep breath, expanding his wide chest, shifting his gaze to the wall. “It was the right thing to do if we’re going to make any progress. The council is the least of my worries for what is ahead, Marex. For now, I’m a silent partner in the shadows. Eventually, I’ll have to come out to make my voice heard, and that’s when the real risk will manifest.”
There were a few questions Marex wanted answers to before they started discussing the heavy shit. “When I first sent out a message to meet with a shifter leader, you were and are—as far as I know—the only one out of a dozen to respond. Why?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Care to share them with me?”
“They probably parallel yours. Tired of the same old battle. Hungry for change. Curious about the benefits of what uniting our species could demonstrate. Despite what most think, we aren’t comfortable with tradition of hate any more than you are, and to be honest, it’s boring as fuck. I’ve met quite a few vampires over my lifetime who didn’t deserve what our kind did to them, simply because of what they were, instead of who they are. After a while, it started to feel wrong.” He paused for a few moments. “To be honest, I wish I didn’t feel the way I do. Life would be infinitely easier. There are a few in my pack who don’t even know I sympathize, and so secrecy follows me wherever I go, and puts my alpha position on tenuous grounds. That was why it took me years to reach out. And then I realized it was a weakness not to meet with you, not a strength.”
Marex’s respect for Kane grew exponentially, and for the first time in forever, he was excited for the future in a positive way, even though Kane’s view was only one in a thousand. Numbers mattered. The more like Kane out there, the better, but were there? The road had been long already, and was bound to be even longer, but the outcome would be worth the time it took to end centuries of needless war. Marex just hoped he and Kane survived to see it.
“I have a feeling we’re going to collect a few more scars before all is said and done, Kane,” he drawled. “It isn’t just our people we have to be wary of. Humans are part of the equation, too.” He gave a brief overview of what he’d learned about the humans not only being involved, but spearheading the entire operation of his frame and execution.
Judging by his expression, Kane was baffled, as he wore the same look everyone had expressed when told humans were behind the whole ordeal. “How cunning. Isn’t just like humans to try and sneak one by us? Maybe they aren’t the stupid bags of flesh I’ve always perceived them to be.”
“The more I think about it, the more it clicks. In fact, there’s something you can do that would take me longer if I or my team tried on our own. That is, if you don’t think it’s too dangerous.”
The leader’s eyes flashed resentment that Marex would even utter the words “too dangerous” to him. “Whatever you can do, we can do better.”
Those were fighting words, but Marex never rose to that kind of bait anymore. He knew the alpha just felt his manhood had been questioned. “I have no doubt you can because it’ll be hard for us to have an ear in the human fold. Since you guys are free to walk around in the daylight and darkness, you can scour information faster, and perhaps get more information on exactly who tried to end me.”
“Done.” Kane shrugged his huge shoulders. “Anything else?”
“That’s all I can think of for now. While I very much appreciate the asylum, we shouldn’t be down here for more than a few days, a week at most. I have to keep moving.”
Kane gave a slow nod. “Understood. Do you know what you’re going to do next?”
Yes. And no. But he had to try. “Are you aware of the Centurias?” At the shake of Kane’s head, Marex explained. “Every hundred years, vampires from around the world come together at an undisclosed location for a week. It’s nine nights of the most extraordinary debauchery. Masquerades, dances, orgies, games, competitions. In between, there are negotiations
galore. Alliances formed. Alliances broken. Offers made for property, politics, companies, and the like. Even arranged marriages.”
“Sounds like quite the gathering.”
“I’ve heard it is. I wouldn’t know because I’ve never been.”
“Why the hell not?”
“It’s exclusive in the extreme. You have to be wealthy, or have ties to a Vesser or one of the Nine Group. If you have neither of those things, your last hope is to buy a key. Once you have one, no one can touch you, for any reason, until the Centurias is over.”
“Holy shit. You need one of those.”
“I know,” he said dryly. “It’s getting one that’s going to be even more challenging than escaping the council.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
He hesitated, because it hadn’t occurred to him until that very moment he had anyone to ask. “You can utilize your famous tracking skills and find someone for me.”
“All I require is a name. If you have more than that, we can work faster.”
At the raised voices and laughter coming from the kitchen area, he glanced over Kane’s shoulder, and added distractedly. “Good. Uh, his name is Fitz McEvoy…” What was going on over there?
He stood up abruptly at Nadine’s gasp, seeing one of the shifters pick her up and throw her over his shoulder. Marex’s canines shot down, body tensing. “Don’t touch her!” he roared without thinking, bolting up.
Kane shot to his feet. “What’s wrong?” He turned around just as Marex strode past him and toward the kitchen.
“Marex,” Nadine said as the shifter gently set her back down on her feet. She moved to stand in Marex’s way, his chest bumped into hers. “Stop it. It’s okay. He didn’t know.”
Chase seemed perplexed, and little taken aback by the blaze in Marex’s eyes. “Sorry, man. I was just showing her how we—”
“Save it,” Marex bit out over her head. “You don’t touch her. No one can touch her.”
Kane joined them, seeing his shifter’s hackles rise. “Easy, Chase. He can’t help it.”
Marex: Immortal Forsaken Series #1 (Paranormal Romance Novella) Page 5