Stryke (New Vampire Disorder Book 4)

by Marie Johnston

  Stryke turned and she drew up short. He clamped his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t always know what figurative demons are chasing a person, I just know I can use them to get inside.”

  “But once inside them, you’re privy to all their inner thoughts. It can’t be long before you know.”

  His voice dropped to a caress. “Zoey, the dedication between you two was intoxicating.” He moved closer, lowered his head, his lips hovering above hers. “It was the first thing I felt when I got into him. Then I saw you that first time. You were in bed, your hair spread around you like a halo—and I fucking hate halos.” She smiled and their lips brushed together. “You were a vampire. And I hated them, too.” He kissed her, a light press of his lips. “But you opened your eyes and those red lips curled into a smile and… I never wanted to leave your side.”

  Their lips met again. She relaxed and his hands landed on her waist. Her shorts were shucked off and she was lifted onto a china cabinet. Glass ornaments and knickknacks clattered to the floor, but neither of them cared. She spread her legs and he was at her entrance, his sweats already pushed out of the way.

  He thrust in and took her hard. She gasped with the intensity and turned herself over to his strong embrace. He wasn’t so out of his mind with lust to not ensure her climax.

  Her body tightened, then uncoiled as her orgasm rolled through her. His hot release inside of her sent ringlets of energy curling through her veins.

  As he finished shuddering through his peak, he murmured, “Let’s go back to bed.”

  She nodded and two thoughts bombarded her. One, she couldn’t sleep because she had to report Quution to Demetrius and the Synod. And two, he’d fucked her to avoid answering her question.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nightfall was near. Zoey tapped her fingers continuously on top of the mahogany dining-room table. All she had was her phone, but she’d set up a makeshift workstation at the head of the table.

  She and Stryke had gone back to sleep for a few hours, but she’d risen by early evening to begin the calls for arranging a meeting with the Synod. Stryke had prepared her food while she’d talked and negotiated Stryke’s presence at the meeting place even farther north than the cabin.

  That had spurred hemming and hawing over whether Stryke would reveal the location to the underworld. Zoey ignored Stryke’s droll eye roll, and both she and Demetrius argued that the shifters had had their government in that location for centuries and that the prime vampires had known about it. With so much demonic meddling in the prime families, the underworld also had to be aware and were either worming their way in or planning to. If Hypna wanted to take on the colony surrounding Synod headquarters, it was her funeral. Shifters were too inherently good; most demons had a natural aversion to them, preferring to meddle with vampires instead.

  Ultimately, Zoey would bet curiosity about the energy demon had won out when the rest of the Synod acquiesced to his presence.

  As if Stryke would stay behind. He’d follow Zoey’s energy trail and either barge right in or, more his style, monitor the process from the shadows.

  Hellfire, why’d that turn her on? She liked his methodical, meticulous, calm personality. A hothead had never been attractive to her, which made her bond with Mitchell odd. They had still worked together, and it had gone well most of the time. There’d been some arguments and she’d had concerns over how he’d take certain info, like when they were relocated to work undercover. But she was used to maneuvering spoiled prime families and Mitchell had been no different. As much as she’d loved him, he had been prime to the bone. He’d made up for his deficiency with self-righteousness.

  Stryke lurked, watched, considered all angles before he reacted. Habits that increased his sex appeal off the charts.

  But she couldn’t forget that he’d avoided her questions about the emotional opening he’d used to get into Mitchell.

  She also couldn’t forget that it didn’t bother her that Stryke had been spying on her for months. During her most intimate moments, during heart-to-heart conversations with her mate, Stryke had been watching, eavesdropping. For darkness’s sakes, he’d even bonded to her without her knowledge, or her permission. Only the latter elicited any kind of feeling, and even then, it was just irritation. Not fury, not despair. Try as she might, she couldn’t muster the level of anger she should against Stryke’s intrusions.

  It was done. And honestly, he hadn’t stolen any time away from her and her mate. If he had, Zoey would find his actions unforgivable, a deep violation for a male who proclaimed the level of compassion for her that he did—that he showed.

  A plate of nachos slid in front of her and a Gatorade was positioned on her right.

  He’d just served her a meal. She stared at the food. A meal hadn’t been prepared or presented to her since she’s been a youngster. Once she’d left home, she’d been on her own, her dietary needs too important to trust with a near stranger, so specific that she hadn’t turned over the duty to her mate.

  This demon was catering to her needs—literally.

  She flashed him a smile and continued texting meeting arrangements with Demetrius while her mind whirled over her sudden conflicting urges. On the one hand, who wouldn’t want a large, sexy male who could stroke her to ecstasy to wait on her? But he was the demon who’d tricked her into a bond and who was still keeping secrets.

  Would he keep her secret? Or would he be offered a better deal from the underworld to kill her?

  No, not as long as she was his everything. She wanted to tell him to get a hobby. That kind of single-mindedness never ended well.

  With silent precision, Stryke sat in a chair to her right and dug into his food. She munched on her salty fare as she finalized plans through messages but didn’t speak. Stryke would have to know them eventually, but sitting over a shared meal, idly chatting about a mission, was more intimate than when he was inside of her. Disengaging her logical mind wasn’t an option when they were fully clothed.

  “We leave after this?” Stryke asked around a mouthful.

  She swallowed, more for a delay than a necessary function. Since when had she avoided anything hard in her life? She could talk shop with him and not lose her heart. She could forget about how he’d saved her from Hypna and getting sucked into the portal. His distraught reaction over Lee’s death was a little harder to dismiss, and she’d never been one to fawn over a male because he looked like a walking immortal fantasy.

  Clearing her throat, she used her most brusque tone. “The meeting is set for ten p.m. Demetrius will get there first and go in instead of waiting for us so it doesn’t look like an us-versus-them thing. He’ll wait to share his opinions,” she rolled her eyes toward the demon, “which won’t be totally flattering.”

  Stryke lifted a shoulder and wiped the crumbs off his fingers. “I wouldn’t believe him either if he professed to be my newest admirer. Tell me about the Synod.”

  She paused and instantly guilt flooded her. She couldn’t spill details on people who might not be her closest friends but who she trusted with the rule of her people.

  “Zoey,” Stryke chided, “I wouldn’t believe you either if you suddenly trusted me with every asset of your job. Tell me what I’d learn just by being there. Names, species, whatever you’re comfortable with. But I don’t wish to attend an inquisition at a complete disadvantage.”

  He was right. She had no reason to feel guilty, and he was smart enough to figure out much about the others within minutes of meeting them. Again, his reaction unsettled her. How could he be so calm and accepting? Because his default was to be unwanted and untrusted?

  How shitty had his upbringing been to turn him against everything the underworld stood for?

  “D and I are the vampire representatives. The shifter reps are Demke and Sylva. Demke was on the previous council for the shifters and he’s a good guy. Mellow and even-tempered, a rare trait for a shifter male who’s willing to rule. Sylva has a chip on her shoulder, but it makes her
a powerful advocate for the overlooked members of her kind. And my kind.”

  “Ah, because she was an overlooked member.”

  She dipped her head even though it was a statement. “Then there’s the hybrid, John. He’s our unspoken leader.”

  Stryke’s lips quirked. “And the others would admit that?”

  “I think so. It’s hard for five strong personalities to work together without a top dog.” She chuckled. “Or wolf-vampire mix. He’s reasonable and was raised away from both of our worlds. It gives him enough of a distance to be objective when we can’t.”

  She considered Stryke as he nodded in understanding and attacked the rest of his food. Perhaps that was the reason he was an oddity. Raised away from the crux of his realm, with a cruel mother and little outside interference. He’d idolized his sire but had experienced the burn of betrayal and, with no way out, had coasted through life. Until, like he said, he’d met her.

  A spark of trust ignited. The feeling hadn’t been totally absent. Almost like she’d grown to trust him with her, but she now felt secure with him. Just him.

  The others on the Synod would never accept him. Nor would they accept her with him. The more her fondness for Stryke grew, the more the foundation of her life lost stability.

  Could she trade her duty for Stryke? Could she be like Bishop and Fyra and battle the demon influence in the realm? No one but her team trusted Fyra and if it wasn’t for her and Demetrius’s influence, Fyra might’ve been turned over to the Synod and the Guardians, the police force of their kind.

  Without Zoey on the Synod, supporting her friend, would Bishop lose his happiness? It was easier to think she would be letting down her people, but the generalized version was much better than knowing she’d let down her friends. Would her successor allow Zoey’s team the free rein she and Demetrius had been able to secure?

  She squeezed her phone in one hand and grabbed her plate with the other. A portion of her meal remained, but she’d lost her appetite.

  “Zoey?” Stryke didn’t too speak loudly.

  “I must ready for the day.” She winced at her formal tone. How quickly she reverted to the pampered girl her mother had tried to make her into.

  Get the Synod meeting over with, then she could figure the rest out.

  ***

  His meal finished, Stryke frowned at the scorch marks on the floor, but he wasn’t pondering the problem of Quution. Zoey’s abrupt departure at the table made him suspect she was having an internal struggle. He ran through the conversation but failed to pinpoint a specific cause for her turmoil.

  Must just be him in general. He brushed his hair off his face. Briefly, he’d considered using the gel he’d found in the bathroom to style his locks to stay over his horns. The Synod might work with him better if he didn’t display his obvious demonic traits.

  He was good at concealment, but the Synod would have to deal with him as is. Just like they’d had to accept that his friend, Fyra, wasn’t an atrocious beast. Not many from his home were decent beings, but some weren’t nightmarish creatures, just beings left with no choice of locale, who lacked the power to change their circumstances. Their realms were slowly melding and it was up to the vampires to limit the intrusion. Because demons being demons, they’d naturally want to take over and enslave everyone. If the Synod refused Stryke’s assistance, they were only hurting themselves. And Zoey. If they forbade his relationship with his bonded… Well, he wasn’t sure. All the cards lay in Zoey’s grip. And despite their time between the sheets, and on the couch, and the bathroom counter, Stryke still wasn’t confident in them. She was so tied to her damn duty that if she abandoned what simmered between them, he wouldn’t be shocked.

  At the same time, if she ever unearthed the circumstances behind Mitchell’s death, it might be their only saving grace.

  But she wouldn’t find out. She’d just have to accept that Mitchell’s stress about how her team was undermining the government was the opening Stryke had needed. It wasn’t an untruth.

  He turned at footsteps on the stairs. She swept down them, her bun so tight that no hair dared escape. They hadn’t cleaned the banister debris, and bits of wood crunched under her black boots.

  In full tactical gear, she was a vision. The weapons belt only enhanced the curve of her hips. The holster strapped around her chest framed her breasts. Her clothing was formfitting and he’d love to strip it from her lanky frame bit by bit.

  She stopped at the bottom. “Ready?”

  He closed the distance between them and cupped her elbow. He’d rather not showcase his ability to follow flash-energy trails.

  Her gaze lifted to the ceiling, then lowered to the walls. “If we stay here any longer, we’ll have to ward the place against flashing.” A smile danced over her pink lips. “But it’s a nice treat to flash in and out of a building instead of stepping outside.”

  He’d been thinking the same. She could take care of protecting the cabin against vampire invasion, and Stryke would lay down the spells he could to keep demons out. Quution’s ability might be a little harder for Stryke to ward around, but he’d find a way to keep the male from popping in. Hopefully the demon needed a solid recovery after their encounter. Humans stopping by or, worse, Lee’s parents returning were the easiest problems to deal with. A little entrancing from Zoey and they’d drive away, their minds like butter, easily molded.

  Zoey flashed. A sizzle of disorientation dissipated quickly as Stryke blinked at his new surroundings.

  Trees. Evergreens as far as the eye could see. Stryke studied the energy patterns around him, and much like the underworld, there was a steady buzz interspersed with differing energy signatures. Dwellings. A colony surrounded the Synod headquarters. A large structure, with more personality than the vampires’ compound, loomed in front of him. Built with concrete like the compound, this place also had wood accents and windows. Lots of windows, since it’d been the shifters’ place of governance for centuries. Vampires could travel long distances faster than shifters, and powerful vampires like his bonded could flash long distances. The area must’ve made sense to all to keep it.

  If demons cared enough to get out here, they’d raze the wilderness. Surprisingly, they were smarter than that, meticulously, if somewhat distractedly, targeting the prime vampires.

  The Circle would succeed, too, if the Synod didn’t learn to harvest what knowledge and assistance they could from Stryke and Fyra.

  Of course, Stryke understood why they wouldn’t. He couldn’t care less about anyone in the underworld, and Fyra only cared more about Bishop than herself, but the Synod would choose caution.

  He glanced at Zoey’s profile. Her jaw was set, her gaze grim, her shoulders squared, but her hands twitched at her sides. She was ready for battle. But over him or her future?

  She briefly met his gaze, then looked back to the front door. With an audible inhale, she marched toward the entrance.

  Falling in next to her, he examined his surroundings as they went through the doorway.

  Very anticlimactic. The inside wasn’t as plain as the exterior, but it was close. The stone floor lent it some character, and it was nicer than the dirt Stryke was accustomed to. The walls were a mixture of drywall and painted masonry. The chamber Zoey led him into resembled the courtrooms he’d seen on TV. Large, open, and circular, seating surrounded the outer edges for public meetings. A carved, wooden table dressed the front of the room. The five chairs present could rim the table or line one side for when they addressed individuals—or when they tried a criminal.

  Today, the chairs flanked one side of the table. And there were only four.

  Was Zoey on trial, too?

  Demetrius was positioned in the chair farthest right, wearing a pensive expression. A male sat next to him, his gaze contemplative. Then it was a woman, Sylva, and the last male. The female evaluated him with disdain plain across her face and the two other males seemed more curious than anything, their gazes flicking between Zoey and the top of his
head, where his horns weren’t completely covered.

  Zoey stopped in the middle of the clearing two steps lower than the table. She radiated tension and subtle anger. She wouldn’t like the slight of only four chairs when she was supposedly on equal footing.

  “Zohana,” the male next to Demetrius spoke. He had lighter brown hair than the vampire. Stryke’s senses weren’t as powerful as a vampire’s, but the male’s energy signature was a blend of several Stryke had come across before.

  Ah, he was the hybrid John.

  She inclined her head as a curt greeting. “Have you decided already, then?”

  “You must understand—” Sylva said.

  “I understand just fine,” Zoey snapped. “I called you together to present new information, but it looks like I’m on trial. Have you already decided that I’ve traded my priorities and removed me from the Synod?”

  “No.” John crossed his arms and reclined as much as he could. “But like you said, you understand that your relationship with the demon affects your standing.”

  Stryke bristled at the male’s words. They were professional, almost courteous, but he’d used Zoey’s words against her. A quality not only demons excelled at, apparently.

  “What. Relationship.” Zoey’s rigid posture vibrated with anger. Stryke couldn’t fault her for denying him. He’d known it’d be an uphill battle when he’d bonded her.

  The shifter’s nostrils flared as if to inform her they smelled Stryke on her and they knew it wasn’t from proximity.

  The second male, Demke, steepled his fingers together and leaned forward. “We made an educated leap of faith when Demetrius concealed critical information from us to protect Callista. But she was his mate. We’ve been cautiously guarded about Bishop Laurent’s relationship with a demon, but she’s proven herself useful to our cause—and Bishop’s not on the Synod.” He hesitated, the corners of his eyes pinched. “Zohana, we know you’ve lost your true mate, otherwise we would’ve allowed more time and understanding. But our people, this realm, is under attack—by his people.” Demke switched his gaze to Stryke. “Have you, or have you not, carried out underworld missions against our people?”