by Kali Argent
It hurt, seeing her mother like that, but not as much as it had when she’d found her in person. “Thank you.” She reached up and patted his hand where it rested on her shoulder. “I don’t understand, though.” Knox wouldn’t make her watch her mother’s death without a reason. “What am I missing? This doesn’t prove that I didn’t kill her.”
Slade just inclined his head toward the vid screen. “Keep watching.”
A few minutes into the feed, a figure dressed completely in black entered the frame from the same direction had mother had. The stranger kept her head down, her mass of black, wavy hair hiding her face from the camera, but judging by her height and build, Isla guessed her to be Krytos.
She crouched down beside Isla’s mother, just staring at her lifeless form for a moment, then pressed two fingers to Katelyn’s throat. Clearly satisfied with what she found, the female stood, turned, and simply walked back the way she’d come.
“This alone doesn’t prove that whoever’s in the footage killed your mother,” Knox explained, “but it casts doubt on your involvement, and it gives the Alliance another suspect.”
After asking to rewind the footage, Isla leaned closer, studying the few details she could see of the female. “So, that’s Wraith.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m sure she’s long gone by now.”
“Probably,” Slade agreed. “We don’t need to hand her over, though. We just need to give the regents reason to doubt that you were responsible.”
“I could ask for a mind scan.” It was a dangerous undertaking, but having a D’Aire peek inside her brain was a sure way to prove her innocence.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Knox answered balefully. “With the way things have gone in this investigation, I’m not leaving anything to chance. I’ve already made a couple of copies of the footage. Sadayka has one, and so do her cousins on X21.”
“That’s smart. Thank you for thinking of that.” Isla hadn’t considered that their only evidence would go missing, but she should have. “Well, there’s not much we can do today with it being Christmas.”
“First thing tomorrow morning,” Slade assured her. “This will be over with quickly, tava. We’ll see to it.”
* * * *
While Sadayka didn’t usually decorate for the holiday, every year on Christmas evening, she opened the doors of Haven to those who had nowhere else to go. Those without families. Those who had no one.
It was the biggest party of the year, but having that many people in one place created its own problems. Fights had already broken out in the basement bar, and Slade and Rakesh had been dispatched to deal with the unruly revelers.
Around the same time, another disturbance had taken place in the circular driveway when someone had landed their shuttle directly atop another one. In hopes of avoiding bloodshed on Sadayka’s part, Knox and Kylir had volunteered to sort out the mess, leaving Isla to enjoy the festivities with Cord and Bastian.
“There are so many people this year,” Zora commented from behind the window of the coat room. “I’m running out of hangers.” She said this more to herself than anyone else as she wandered toward the back of the giant closet.
“I have hookers,” Cord called after her. He sat on the check-in counter, swinging his feet while he nibbled on a cookie. “There are lots of hookers in my closet.”
“Oh, my.” Isla placed a hand over her mouth to muffle her giggles. “Well, I’m proud of you for sharing.” Stars, the kid had a way with words.
“Wait,” Bastian said through his chuckles. “Let’s back up. I’m kind of interested in these hookers he has in his closet.”
Isla elbowed him in the ribs, even as she continued to smile at Cord. “You’re not funny.”
“Mommy, can I have another cookie?”
“You already have one.”
In response, Cord stuffed the remainder of the sugar cookie into his mouth and wiped his hands off on his green T-shirt. “Now?”
“Cord!” Still, she couldn’t help but laugh at him. “I think you’ve had enough cookies for one day.” Or a lifetime, for that matter.
“Please?” Swallowing, he tucked his hands under his chin and gave her that look she could never resist. “Just one more?”
“It is a party,” Bastian prodded.
“Please, Baba?” The kid turned his million-watt smile on Bastian. “Just one. I won’t ask for no more. Just one.”
“Isla,” Bastian mumbled out of the side of his mouth, “please let him have a cookie so he’ll stop looking at me like that.”
Cord batted his lashes and held his clasped hands out to Bastian, shaking them dramatically. “Please, Baba? I was so good today.”
“That’s it.” Turning abruptly, Bastian marched off into the crowd.
“Where are you going?” Isla called.
“To get him a cookie!”
Isla laughed. “Softy!” Knowing Bastian, he’d return with a whole plate of them. “Just one more. I mean it, Bas!”
He waved his hand over his head to acknowledge her, but there was a big difference between him hearing her and actually listening. Watching him walk away, her gaze drifted to his muscular ass encased in black leather, and sighed. Damn, that was a pretty sight.
Now that all three of her males had claimed her, she could definitively say that each of them approached lovemaking the same way they did life, and their preferences were indicative of their personalities.
Bastian was impatient. He wanted things to happen on his schedule, and it frustrated him when they didn’t. The same could be said for the bedroom. When he wanted her, he didn’t take time to worry about inconsequential things like privacy or horizontal surfaces.
Knox, on the other hand, was content to take his time and let good fortune come to him. He felt things deeply, more so than most people probably realized. As a lover, he rarely initiate their encounters, but once she gave him even the slightest hint, he set out to fulfill her every need and then some.
As alpha, Slade was demanding and assertive, qualities he also brought to the bedroom. Unlike his brothers, Slade didn’t coddle her or treat her like she was made of glass. He didn’t hold back for fear of hurting her, and his rough handling pushed her limits while always leaving her craving more.
They were different in as many ways as they were alike, and she loved each of them for their uniqueness, imperfections and all.
“Mommy!”
Cord’s high-pitched scream had her whipping back around, and the breath caught in her throat when she recognized the man standing before her.
“Let him go,” she demanded of her stepfather.
Commander Harvey Fielding held Cord in one arm, crushing him to his chest as he pressed the tip of a serrated dagger to the side of the boy’s neck. “Mommy, huh? You’ve been busy.”
“He has nothing to do with this.” She started forward, but stopped when the commander shook his head.
“Take another step, and I’ll open his throat.”
Cord kicked and wailed, his hands stretched toward her, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Mommy! I want my mommy!”
“It’s okay, leelan. You’re going to be okay.” She was going to rip Harvey’s fucking face off once she got Cord back. “Everything is just fine.” She looked up at her stepfather, her upper lip curling over her teeth. “What do you want?”
“I want you to very quietly walk over to the front door. If you call for help, if you try to signal someone, I’ll kill him.”
She believed him, too. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just let him go.”
“Not until we’re outside.”
Too late, it occurred to Isla that her stepfathers were never apart. They did everything together. Destroy the city, kill her mother, and apparently, kidnap her and threaten a little boy.
A hand surrounded her throat from behind, and the sharp point of a dagger dug into her lower back. “Hello, princess. Did you miss me?”
Commander Alan Covey laughed darkly as he began w
alking her toward the exit of the sanctuary. By now, her mates would have felt her fear and her rage. She just needed to stall her stepfathers for a little longer. So, she decided to let them in on a little secret.
“You’re both going to die.”
“No one will come near us,” Harvey taunted, giving Cord a little shake, “not as long as I have him.”
“And you,” Alan added, pressing the knife more firmly against her back. “Those Krytos can’t hurt us without you getting caught in the crossfire. They won’t risk it.”
Clearly, they didn’t know her mates. “You’re going to die, and I hope it’s painful. I hope you suffer like my mother suffered.”
“Your mother was going to leave us.” Alan growled against her ear. “We couldn’t just let all those credits walk out the door.”
“Then she had the audacity to leave everything to you,” Harvey added.
So, it had all been about credits. Isla had always suspected it, but hearing the commanders admit to it ignited a righteous fury within her. She no longer just hoped they died. She wanted to be the one who ended them.
They’d almost reached the door when another figure appeared at the top of the stairs, right behind Harvey. Eyes blazing red, fangs bared, Slade grabbed the commander’s jaw and twisted sharply, turning his head clear around on his neck. Before Harvey had even begun to fall, Slade snatched Cord out of his limp arms and cradled him close, stroking the boy’s hair to soothe him.
With Cord safe, Isla had no reason to comply any longer. “Slade! Over here! Slade!”
His head snapped up, his eyes so bright red, they almost glowed. He wasn’t the only one who turned at the sound of her screams, either. Zora appeared at the coat room window again, her eyes just as red as Slade’s, and her arms outstretched.
With only the briefest hesitation, Slade passed Cord to her, caressed his cheek, then started across the room toward Isla and her stepdad. A loud roar erupted from the center of the dining hall, and the crowd parted, making way for Bastian as he charged across the room.
Unfortunately, Alan had already reached the door, and neither of her mates would make it to them in time. The harder Isla struggled, the deeper the blade pierced her skin, but she didn’t care. She didn’t need to fight Alan. She just needed to slow him down.
As the commander pushed her toward the exit, she pretended to stumble, throwing him off balance and making him bend to keep his grip on her. Planting her feet, she reared up, ramming the back of her head into his nose. It hurt like hell and blurred her vision, but when his hand loosened around her neck, she lunged toward the front door.
She managed to get the door open, but she didn’t make it past the threshold before he caught her.
Cursing and spitting, Alan grabbed her by the hair, jerking her upright as he spun them around to face the dining hall. “Stay back!” He pressed the long blade against her throat, dragging her backwards to the open door. “I’ll fucking slit her throat. Stay back!”
Slade was going to rip the commander’s head off and spit down his fucking neck hole. With the tip of the blade pressing into Isla’s flesh, however, he couldn’t make his move without putting his mate in danger. The crazed look in the male’s eyes was that of a cornered animal, and his desperation made him dangerous and unpredictable.
“Let her go,” Bastian demanded. “There’s nowhere to run.” He advanced, his chest rumbling with a deep growl. “I’m going to peel your skin off piece by piece, and I’m going to enjoy doing it.”
The baseboards creaked on the front porch, drawing everyone’s attention, and the commander jerked sideways, looking between Slade and Bastian in the dining room, then Kylir and Knox just beyond the open door. Slade could almost see the wheels turning in his head, the panic coiling around his heart. Trapped, nowhere to go, but unwilling to surrender, Command Covey did the only thing he could to control the situation.
He plunged the dagger into Isla’s spine, then shoved her out the door, right into Kylir’s arms, knocking the pilot off balance before trying to make a run for it. Slade roared, charging forward, Bastian right behind him. Kylir caught Isla, holding her up as he swiped his tail out to the side, knocking the commander right into Knox’s waiting hands.
Knox wasted no time dispatching the asshole, catching him around the throat and severing his carotid artery in one, efficient swipe of his claws. Commander Covey dropped to the front porch, blood spilling from his open throat to stain the baseboards, his mouth still open in a silent, eternal scream.
His death had been too quick in Slade’s opinion, but he had zero concern to spare for the commander. Stepping over the threshold, Slade took Isla from Kylir’s arms, his heart seizing when his hands and arms instantly coated in her blood. There was no time to move her to somewhere more private or comfortable, so he knelt and laid her gently on the porch.
“I’m sorry, Alpha.” Kylir dragged his fingers through his silver hair, smearing the strands with crimson. “I should have been faster.”
Slade said nothing.
“It’s not your fault.” Bastian spared a passing glance at the pilot as he crouched down on Isla’s other side.
Knox joined them, kneeling at Isla’s feet, his face and hands coated with the commander’s blood, his expression pained. A crowd had begun to form around the open door, their murmured conversations a dull drone that Slade barely heard.
“She won’t make it.” They were the four most devastating words he’d ever uttered, but as the pool of blood beneath Isla grew, he had to be practical.
“Isla, baby, open your eyes.” Bastian patted her cheeks lightly. “Come on, baby, open your eyes. Someone call a medic!”
“Bas, there’s no time.” A human doctor couldn’t say her, but Slade and his brothers could. It was dangerous, and the process could kill her anyway, but they had no other options.
“Don’t say that!” Bastian bellowed at him.
Knox hadn’t said a word, but when he met Slade’s gaze, unspoken understanding passed between them, and he nodded once. “Do it.”
“It’ll kill her,” Bastian argued, finally catching on. He spoke hesitantly, almost like he was afraid to hope that converting their mate to Krytos could actually work.
“She’s dying anyway,” Knox muttered. “It’s the only way.”
Isla listened to their conversation, and she wanted to tell them not to argue, but her mouth wouldn’t seem to work. She couldn’t move, couldn’t open her eyes, but at least there was no pain. She’d expected there to be more pain.
She was cold. So cold.
She just wanted to sleep. After she slept, she’d be fine. Again, she tried to make her mouth move, to form the words to reassure her mates, but her body had rebelled against her, holding her paralyzed.
Something warm pressed against her lips. Something wet. Without decision to do so, she swallowed when the coppery liquid spilled into her mouth. At least her body’s automatic functions still worked.
She didn’t like the taste of whatever was filling her mouth, didn’t like how warm it was, or the way it smelled like rust. It kept coming, though, coating her tongue and trickling down her throat, forcing her to swallow again and again to keep from choking.
When it stopped, she was glad for the reprieve, but a moment later, more tangy fluid began flowing into her mouth again, and she gurgled a couple of times when she couldn’t swallow quickly enough.
Blood.
Her brain had finally found a name for what was being forced into her body. The flow stopped again, only to restart a few seconds later. As she swallowed convulsively, choking on the vile, coppery taste, the coldness vanished, replaced by a rush of fire.
Her body trembled and shook, her heart pounded, thundering against her sternum, and white-hot flames engulfed her, burning her from the inside out. Her body raged against the overwhelming pain, tightening her muscles and clenching her stomach, trying to force out the foreign invasion.
“Breathe, sweetheart.”
“
Is she supposed to be doing that?”
“Don’t fight it, tava. Don’t fight the pain.”
Isla didn’t know how to do what they asked. The agony consumed her, eating away at her sanity, and her pulse continued to race toward dangerous speeds. Stabbing, searing, biting, clawing, the pain swept through her, singeing her skin and chipping away at parts of her humanity.
“You’re going to be okay, baby. You’re strong.”
“Should we move her?”
“I don’t know.”
“How long does it take?”
“I don’t know!”
She knew it was her mates who spoke, but their voices sounded muffled, far away. It was like hearing them from underwater, or through a thick ball of cotton, and she couldn’t discern which one of them had said what.
“Maybe we were too late.”
“She’s going to be okay. Isn’t that right, baby? You’re going to be just fine.”
Though the wildfire continued to burn through her body, scorching everything it touched, their presence soothed and comforted, giving her something to hold on to, something to keep her grounded.
“She’s breathing.”
“The shaking is stopping.”
It felt like an eternity in hell before the pain finally subsided, leaving her exhausted and still unable to move. She couldn’t open her eyes, still couldn’t speak, but her pulse slowed to a strong, steady rhythm, and the intense heat ebbed to a comfortable warmth.
Sleep beckoned, luring her into an unfathomable darkness, and with it, the sweet relief of unconsciousness.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Isla slept for three days after her conversion, but she awoken with an unshakeable energy, unable to remain in bed for a minute longer than necessary. Of course, her mates fretted, constantly asking if she needed anything, if she felt okay, if she needed to rest. She understood that she’d almost died, and changing her into a Krytos had been the only way to save her, but they’re constant hovering was driving her insane.
In reality, she didn’t feel much different, aside from a few upgrades. She sported a shiny new set of fangs. Slade had laughed at her disappointment when she’d commented on how small they were, telling her she was perfect regardless. The hem of her pants rose a little above her ankles now, but she hadn’t grown more than an inch or two, which unlike with her fangs, had been a relief.