by Michele Hauf
With a glance to the sofa, where a swath of sheer violet fabric had been abandoned, he was reminded of the wolf lying in the bedroom, and his anger ebbed.
Do it for her. Change. You can be better.
He wondered if he should wake Blu up. She normally didn’t sleep so long. Yet she had been put through a lot. He hoped the silver shackles he’d torn away from her wrists would not have a lasting effect on her body.
He would take the invisible magical shackles over and over again to save Blu from any discomfort.
The penthouse elevator rang, and he buzzed in the guests from a control box on the kitchen counter.
“Lord Saint-Pierre, long time, no see,” Nikolaus Drake said as he strode without grandeur into the room.
Behind him a short, slender woman in motorcycle leathers and dark sunglasses nodded acknowledgment and sauntered in.
“My wife, Ravin,” Drake said.
“We’ve met,” Ravin said with a sneer. She tucked her shades in the front pocket of her leather jacket. “Sixteenth century, wasn’t it?”
“About then,” Creed replied. “Long time, no see.” Witch. But he’d moved beyond prejudices. Though he sensed she might still hold a grudge.
“Still wielding magic?” she asked.
“I was just shackled last night.”
“Serves you right,” the witch said on a sneer.
“It is difficult to resist the urge to use magic at times,” Nikolaus added, much surprising Creed.
He and Nikolaus both possessed magic. Creed had stolen it; Nick had drunk his wife’s blood—accidentally, of course. And then after he died from her blood, he rose like a phoenix. He was now one of the strongest vampires alive, if you didn’t count his son, Ivan.
Creed still held the record for oldest.
“But you always resist,” Ravin said to her husband.
“I’m pleased you’ve come on such short notice,” Creed said. “No doubt, you are aware of what’s gone down.”
“Reports say the fight began when you killed a werewolf.” Drake eyed him fiercely. “I thought we’d come to terms about this, Saint-Pierre.”
“We have. You can trust me, Drake. What happened last night was self-defense and pure accident,” Creed offered. “I was wearing a ring with liquid silver in it. I hadn’t expected it to break.”
“Yeah?” Ravin looked him up and down. “Then why wear such a thing?”
“It was my wedding ring, given to me by my werewolf bride as a show of trust. She, in turn, wears a ring with witch’s blood inside. From before the Protection.”
“Don’t the wolves realize that blood has no effect on you?”
Creed shrugged. “It could cripple my magic, or maybe increase it. Doesn’t really matter anymore, does it? Listen, here are the facts. The Northern pack is on a rampage against the vampires. My man in charge has secured the Nava tribe, but there are others out there still unaware. We’re trying to contain the outbreak but I feel it’ll quickly widen through the city. The wolves are relentless.”
“News of the attack has spread like wildfire,” Drake added. “Wolves in California and New York have already begun attacking vampires.”
The witch said snidely, “I wouldn’t be surprised if it hops the continent before evening.”
“Christ.” Creed swiped a hand across his jaw. “This marriage was supposed to be a means to bring the nations together.”
The witch slapped her arms across her chest. “Good going, longtooth.”
“Ravin,” her husband admonished.
“What? Just because I married a vampire and gave birth to one doesn’t mean I have to like all of them.”
“I’ve given you no means to favor me,” Creed assured her.
He faulted no witch the right to hate him. After all, he was responsible for their suffering so many centuries ago.
“Truth is,” Creed said to Ravin, “tribe Nava went into this alliance with ulterior motives. I was to play the loving husband, convince the wolves we could get along with their kind, and see them lay down arms first. Then we intended to attack.”
Ravin whistled lowly and looked to her husband. “How come I didn’t hear about this?”
“We just found out about it,” her husband said. “Creed has agreed not to go through with the attack.”
“Sorry.” Creed offered a head bow to Ravin. “We purposely made sure no Council members were aware, or your husband’s tribe. Kila has set a peaceable example. It seemed a wise plan at the time. But then I learned the werewolves had the same hidden motives.”
“Where’d you learn that?” Ravin asked.
“From me.” Blu appeared from around the corner. Her sleep-tousled dark hair hung over one shoulder. The terry-cloth hotel dressing gown wrapped about her figure made her look so frail.
“Good afternoon, Princess,” Drake offered with a half bow.
“This is the werewolf princess?” Ravin said. No respect in that tone. “What did you do, Saint-Pierre, kidnap her? Are you holding her hostage?”
“Hostage?” Creed kissed Blu’s brow, tucking aside the long strands that had slipped into her lashes. “I love Blu. She is my wife. And nothing is going to change that.”
Drake and his wife exchanged looks. It was Ravin who finally shrugged and offered, “Sounds like we’ve work to do. Who else is on their way?”
At that moment the elevator rang. Creed buzzed in the occupants. Ravin hugged the man who stepped into her arms. He lifted her feet from the floor and swung her about.
“Mom, it’s been a few months. Are you getting shorter?”
“You’re getting taller, Ivan. Will you ever stop growing? And, Dez, so good to see you.”
“Ivan Drake,” Creed said to Blu, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Nikolaus and Ravin’s son. And his wife, Dez. I called as many members of the Council as I could manage.”
“Good plan.” She nestled her head against his chest.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“In need of a shower, but otherwise fine. You’re all healed?”
He kissed the crown of her head. “Well enough.”
Truth was, his heart ached far more than any talon slash or broken bone could.
“I wish we had a few minutes to ourselves,” she whispered. “I need to wrap myself about you. Just…feel you.”
“When they leave I’m all yours.”
Ivan approached and shook Creed’s hand, and he made introductions to Blu.
An hour later, the penthouse was filled with a dozen vampires and witches, and the one token werewolf, Blu. She had excused herself to take a shower. Ravin and Dez, along with Lucy Stone, the paranormal debunker from Venice, mixed drinks in the kitchen.
Truvin Stone was absent, which Nikolaus had intimated was a good thing. Some differences died hard.
“I’m not sure what we can do. This is huge,” Ivan announced as he accepted a whisky Coke from his wife. “But I made some calls to the European tribe leaders on the way here. It’s not gone that far, nor will it. They will not tolerate anarchy. The loup-garou across seas are much more refined.”
“I thought you came from France,” Ravin said to Creed. “Guess European savoir-faire doesn’t apply in your case, eh?”
Her husband silenced her. “Ravin, leave the man alone. It was an accident that started this.”
“I cannot deny Nava’s intent to dupe the wolves. My apologies to the Council.” Creed faced the tribe leaders. “Tribe Nava has always stood at the edge, apart from the others.”
“Putting on airs and following their own law,” Ravin muttered.
Ignoring the spiteful witch, Creed asked, “Have we sent out spin?”
“We’ve a team rallying in the city,” Dez reported. “Lucy and I are heading out soon. Already there’s been a news report about a savaged body found in downtown Minneapolis. It’s one of our own. Our insider at the Associated Press is prepared to suppress anything that comes over the wire. We’ll take care of this.”
; “Will your wife communicate with the wolves for us?” Ivan asked Creed. “She may be our only hope.”
“No, I will not ask it of her. Her father abuses her, and the pack hierarchy does not allow for a woman’s voice to be heard. She would be in great danger were she to have contact with the pack now. Besides, I may have seriously injured Amandus, the pack principal. Have we no wolves on the Council?”
“Just the one. He’ll never show.”
BLU LISTENED BEFORE QUIETLY entering the room again. Creed had injured Amandus? She clutched her throat and waited for the tears to come. But they did not. The title father did not demand respect. She knew now respect must be earned.
The only man who had earned her respect was Creed.
Now dressed in a simple black T-shirt and skirt, and her natural hair, she remained by the wall, at a distance. The men converged on the other side of the room near the grand piano, while the women chatted over drinks in the kitchen of the huge open floor plan penthouse.
She approached the women tentatively. She’d never had girlfriends, beyond Bree, and so wasn’t sure how to engage with a group of them. There wasn’t a wolf in the house, and that made Blu uncertain about interaction.
Sliding onto a stool next to the woman with long red hair, she offered a smile. “Lucy?”
“Yes, Lucy Stone. I do damage control and PR for the Light and Dark nations. How are you feeling? Sounds like you and Lord Saint-Pierre had a time of it last night.”
Ravin Drake eyed her with an intent gaze as she leaned onto the counter, waiting for her reply as if Blu needed to prove herself.
“I’m fine. It was a shock that everything happened as it did. We had thought everyone would see we were truly in love…I guess that was foolish.”
“But Creed said the wolves had been planning to attack, too,” Ravin shot out. “So you must have known something would go down.”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen last night. Creed and I were merely there to put on a show that we could live together peacefully. Except we are in love, so it wasn’t a show. I hate what’s happening now.”
“Yeah, well, the webs we weave.”
“Ravin,” Dez admonished.
Ravin touched her black spiky hair, unaffected. “I don’t like Creed Saint-Pierre. Never have, never will. I would have left him to burn last night if it had been my choice.”
“Burn?” Blu asked.
“We had to burn the banquet hall to cover evidence,” Lucy provided. “The wolves went after Creed’s home. We weren’t a part of that.”
“Creed rescued me from my pack,” Blu offered quietly. “I love him for that. Aren’t you a witch?” she asked Ravin. “I thought the witches and vampires had gotten over their tiff?”
“Tiff?” Ravin snorted. “Pass me the vodka, will you, Dez? Tiff.” She shook her head.
“Ravin holds grudges,” Dez supplied as she poured her mother-in-law a few fingers of the clear alcohol. “But we’re all here to work together now. Is there anything you can tell us that may provide a means to stopping this war before it begins?”
Blu sighed. “I don’t know much. My father was determined to take back the land the vampires have stolen from the wolves over the years. But our nations have been battling since the beginning of the twentieth century. Longer even, I’m sure. So many little things got out of hand.”
“Yes, the vamps used to hunt wolves back in the fifties,” Lucy said. When Dez shot her an impressed glance, she provided the details. “I’ve done my research. I may be new to the vampire thing, but I’m up on the history.” Lucy said to Blu, “I used to be a reporter, now I debunk paranormal occurrences that are real. Someone’s got to do spin work.”
“So you’re a vampire?”
“Yes, thanks to my husband, Truvin. I’m pretty new. Only a few years.”
“And the rest of you are witches?”
Dez nodded. “Which goes to show—” she shot her mother-in-law the evil eye “—that opposites of any kind can attract, become friendly and even learn to love. Isn’t that right, Mrs. I Married The Vampire I Once Killed?”
“Damn straight.” Ravin tilted her shot glass at the women, then tipped it back.
“There’s something else,” Blu said slowly. “I think it’s the core reason my father is so against the vampires. I recently found out my mother had an affair with a vampire. And…that my father killed her because of it.”
Lucy rubbed a hand over Blu’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s always over passion,” Ravin said, shaking her head sadly. “All right, I’m over dissing Creed. Let’s figure a way to make things right, shall we? Because heaven knows the menfolk can’t survive without their women standing behind to back them up.”
The elevator rang. The doors opened, and out stepped a man Blu had never expected to show here. Especially not in a room full of vampires. “Severo.”
A FEW WEEKS AGO, Blu had wanted to punch the former pack leader if she ever saw him. Now, the world, as viewed through both her and her husband’s eyes, had changed.
When the vampires merely stood back, leering at the werewolf who had entered, Blu made a point of walking over and shaking his hand.
“Severo, I’m honored.”
“It is I who is honored, Princess.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. He nodded to the Council members, and addressed a few. “Nikolaus. Ivan. Ravin.”
“What are you doing here, Severo?” Creed stepped forward.
The last wolf in the world Blu expected to side with vampires was Stephen Severo. He had lost his family to vampire hunters, had watched them string his parents up as pelts, and then witnessed them shift to human shape in death. He had been enslaved by the vampires, and had narrowly escaped being bitten.
And yet, Severo’s wife, a woman he’d met as a mortal, had been recently changed to a vampire.
“Most of you know I’m not much for vampires,” Severo stated. He shrugged his shoulders and the leather duster coat swept about his knees. “There are precious few I trust, which includes the Drakes. Of course I love my wife. But I am appalled after hearing what went down last night. The wolves acted out of order. They are my former pack. Amandus Masterson has always had the wrong goals. I’m here to help. Tell me what you’ve planned.”
Blu squeezed his hand and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
The man was a lone wolf, not allied to any pack. What he was doing would have repercussions, but not so dangerous as if he were in a pack. He risked being shunned, but obviously he was fine tucked away sharing a life with his wife.
“We’re not sure,” Creed provided. “What the hell can we do?”
Severo’s eyes swept the room, taking in the line of witches at the kitchen counter. “Why not a spell? It’s been done before with the Protection.”
“Like what?” Ravin crossed the room. “Make all werewolf blood poisonous to vampires? That’s so been done, and I don’t think it would be as effective. It’s not like the vamps ever try to bite the wolves. I hear wolf blood is pretty nasty.”
The petite witch didn’t so much as flinch when Severo growled at her.
Blu decided she liked Ravin, even if the witch hated Creed. She was sure there were many who had issues with her husband. A man couldn’t live for nine centuries and not gather a few enemies.
“A spell might work.” Ivan Drake put a finger to his lips in thought. Tallest in the room, and once the devil Himself’s bounty hunter, the man’s commanding mien drew attention. “But not the blood. Something subtler. Dez, what do you think?”
“I can consult the Book of All Spells. If there’s a base spell, something we could use to begin with, I can then master a greater spell. If you’ll let me use the bedroom,” Dez said to Blu, “I’ll call up the Grande Grimoire and look through it.”
“Come with me.” Blu led the witch toward the bedroom. She grabbed the wet towels from the bed and tossed them in a pile near the chair. “Where is it?”
“The
book?” The witch waited at the end of the bed, slender fingers folded together. “It’s out there—” she looked up and aside “—in the otherworld. It’s where I keep all my important stuff. I won’t call it to me until you’ve left the room.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Starting for the door, Blu paused. “You married your enemy?”
“Ivan’s a complicated bit of man,” she offered. “He was born to a witch and a vampire, so he’s never known prejudice against my kind. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you, being forced to marry your enemy.”
“I didn’t like it at first, but I love Creed. The whole drawing a line in the sand because someone is different than you seems so silly now.”
“It is silly.” She approached Blu and touched the ends of her hair, still wet from the shower. “But you still fear him. There’s something about Creed you’re not completely sure about.”
Blu looked down. “It’s just all men in general.”
“I don’t know him,” Dez said, “but I get a feeling for him when standing close. He’s strong and proud. A hard man to change. But he genuinely loves you. I feel that, too. Don’t be afraid of the things he can give you, Blu. And in turn, you give him what’s for, too. Okay?”
Blu nodded and smiled. “Thanks, Dez.”
An hour later, while waiting for Dez’s research to pan out, Blu had learned a few interesting bits from Ravin over shots of vodka.
Ravin had crossed Creed’s path in the sixteenth century. He had returned to France from a sort of crusade against werewolves who’d frenzied across Germany, killing mortals inflicted with a vampire bite. It had been a bizarre quest, Ravin remembered Creed telling her. He’d been dirty, bloodied and not at all genial to her.
He’d downed half a dozen ales with her before he realized she was a witch. Then, he’d hit her with some of his air magic, slamming her against the wall, and had strode out as if he were too good for her.
Didn’t sound like the Creed Blu now knew. He had changed over the years. It was all good now. Or as Creed would say, très bien.