by Lynn Hagen
Olsen gasped and took a step back as Christian roared and his fangs elongated, black claws erupting from his fingernails. His skin began to take on a purplish hue as he rolled away from Tater.
Not knowing what else to do, Olsen dove for Tater, covering his mate’s body. Just then two Asian men burst into the room, hissing at Olsen.
“Please,” Olsen croaked. “Please save my mate.”
The one with short-cropped hair took a step in Olsen’s direction. “What happened to the prince, shifter?”
Olsen looked over at Christian. The prince was on his knees, his hands smashed against his temples. “He tried to convert my mate. The drug Liquid Wrath was in my mate’s system. Christian took it into his body.”
The man cursed as he approached Christian. Olsen looked away, staring down at Tater, who was finally calmed down. The ear-shattering screams were no more.
He leaned forward, placing his cheek close to Tater’s lips, feeling little puffs of air caress his skin. Olsen breathed a sigh of relief.
“You must go.” The man turned to Olsen. “I must calm him, and you cannot be here.”
Olsen wasn’t so sure the prince could be calmed from the way the vampire was lashing out. He didn’t know any way to escape as quickly as the small vampire wanted him to.
He had no way of getting his mate home without calling his family and waiting around, something he knew the small vampire was against.
Olsen had no other choice…“Ahm!”
Dr. Nicholas Sheehan paced back and forth as he waited to be let into the room. His mate, Jason, stood close by, watching everyone closely.
He wasn’t sure what he could do for the human changed to vampire. Normally he would, but the drug running rampant through the paranormal community changed the rules of the game. He knew he was walking into unknown territory, but Nicholas knew he had to try and help Tater any way he could.
“Go in,” Mr. Lakeland said as he stepped aside, allowing Nicholas to enter. Jason was hot on his heels, dogging his back as Nicholas approached the bed.
Holy hell. He had no clue what to make of this.
“Help him, doc,” Tater’s mate begged from the other side of the bed. “This isn’t normal.”
Nicholas glanced back down at Tater. Fuck if that wasn’t the truth. He couldn’t have agreed more. He’d seen what happened when Christian converted someone. Josh was living proof of what took place.
This was not it. It wasn’t even close.
“What did Christian say?” he asked the bear as he laid his medical bag onto the bed. Nicholas rolled his sleeves back as he took out his stethoscope.
“He wasn’t able to tell me. I think he went mad.” The bear’s voice was filled with worry and guilt. “Is someone going to check on him?”
“The wolf physician is getting in touch with the vampire doctor. They’re taking care of him,” Maverick said as he leaned against a wall on the far side of the room.
Nicholas nodded as he approached Tater. The man’s fangs were twice as long as a normal vampire’s should be. They were still sharp as razors though.
Tater hadn’t gained consciousness yet, and Nicholas didn’t want to be near those lethal-looking things when the man finally came around. Tater had also grown in size, almost doubling, and his skin was an eerie shade of pale green.
He was at a loss to know what was going on with Olsen’s mate. Nicholas leaned close to the hybrid, praying things didn’t turn ugly fast.
Maverick watched Nicholas try his best to figure out what was wrong with Olsen’s mate. He had never seen anything like this before. Tater was an anomaly that they would probably try to figure out for years to come.
But there was one thing he could do for the hybrid. This was going to be good. Most people thought Maverick was irresponsible. They thought he took his job lightly. Nothing could be farther from the truth.
In fact, in making them believe this, he was able to observe things most thought he had missed, overlooked. And god love it, he still was having his dreams.
“Chey.”
The entire room turned to look at him. “Pardon me?” Olsen asked as he cocked his head to the side.
“I said Chey. He’s a wolf over in Zeus’s pack that has this healing thing he does.” No sense in spilling all of the grey wolf’s secrets. He wasn’t going to divulge that Chey was an omega either. That was no one’s business.
“I’m not following you,” Olsen said as he reached a hand down and rubbed it up and down Tater’s arm. “How can he help my mate?”
“I’m not really sure. But from the looks of things, Tater needs some help getting through this transformation. I think Chey could be beneficial.”
Oh hell, Zeus was going love him for this. The alpha was going to shit rainbow-colored kittens when he found out Maverick knew about his little omega. Maverick himself wasn’t interested in having one around. They were more trouble than they were worth.
He already had a houseful of headaches.
“Can you bring him here?” Olsen asked, desperation lacing his voice. Maverick had no clue how the bear felt, so he wasn’t even going to try with the bullshit line of I understand how you feel.
He hated when people said that.
“Let me give Zeus a call,” he said as he walked out of the room.
A whole litter of the rainbow kittens.
Olsen sat on the edge of the bed, placing his back to the headboard as he pulled Tater’s arm onto his legs. He ran his thumb over his mate’s discolored skin and worried about Tater still being unconscious.
He focused on the fact that Tater had confessed his love for him. Olsen held on to the confession with an iron fist. He glanced up when a short man with brown hair stepped into Olsen’s bedroom.
“Is this him?” the man asked as he nodded toward Tater. Olsen’s defenses immediately went up. He didn’t know the stranger or the large wolf who had walked in behind him. He glanced over at Maverick, who was back to leaning against the wall.
“My name is Chey, and I’m told I may be able to help someone.” The man stepped a little closer, the wolf behind him doing the same. “And this is Eagle.” Chey pointed behind him to the glaring, blonde-haired man.
“How can you help him?” Olsen asked.
Chey moved around the bed until he was on the side Olsen was sitting on. The short man leaned close, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Normally, I can heal those that are injured. But with your mate going through a change unlike any other, I’m not sure if it will work. But if you would let me try, I can see if I can help him.”
Olsen knew he would let Chey try. He was lost as to what to do for his mate. He was running out of options. No one seemed to know what to do for Tater.
He glanced at his pa, who was standing by the window, watching everything that was going on. When his pa dipped his head in a nod, Olsen swallowed around the lump in his throat and then looked back at Chey. “Help him, please.”
Chey’s jaw tightened as his expression went from compassionate to determined. “You may want to move. I’m not sure if he will thrash around or not, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
This coming from a man half the size of Olsen.
He wanted to argue, to shout, to tell the man to get the hell away from his mate, but this wasn’t about him. It was about helping Tater. Olsen slid from the bed and walked over to his pa, needing his father’s closeness for comfort.
He glanced out of the window, feeling as if his entire world was falling apart around him. He noticed strangers standing there in the backyard as if they were guarding something. Their stance was rigid. “Who are they?” he asked no one in particular.
“Men here to protect Chey,” Eagle growled.
Olsen looked over his shoulder, seeing the fierceness in the man’s eyes, and wondered if he was Chey’s mate. He had to be. No one could look that lethal about someone he was just watching over. Not in Olsen’s opinion anyway.
He wrapped his arms around his abdomen as he watched
Chey climb up on the bed and then kneel at Tater’s side. Nausea rolled through him as Chey laid his hands on Tater’s bare chest, and then his mate began to scream.
It was instantaneous.
The moment Chey touched him, his mate began to thrash around. Olsen took a step toward the bed, desperate to give Tater some kind of comfort. His pa laid his hand on Olsen’s arm, stopping him from going to his mate.
“Let him work, son.”
Olsen’s bear roared, standing up on its hind legs as it, along with Olsen, listened to the horrific screams coming from the bed. Olsen’s head began to hurt, and his stomach began to cramp at the pain his mate was broadcasting.
He wasn’t sure if it was their bond or if it was empathy, but Olsen thought he was going to lose his mind as Tater traversed through a hell Olsen could only imagine.
“His body is confused. It doesn’t know what to do,” Chey said as he pressed his hands harder onto Tater’s chest. “It’s fighting the drug, but unsure if it should change Tater into a human or a vampire.”
Olsen spun around to face the wall, slamming his fists into the drywall as his mate’s cries echoed throughout the room, throughout Olsen’s soul. Tears trickled down his face as helplessness washed over him.
“Which way should I go?” Chey asked. “Tell me,” he cried out desperately.
“Vampire,” Olsen blurted out.
If Tater’s body was fighting this, fighting to figure out what to do, becoming a vampire was the safer route. He wasn’t sure Tater’s human form would survive the chemical raging through his system.
Liquid Wrath was deadly to humans. He had no choice.
0He just prayed his mate didn’t hate him for making the decision for him.
“Then get ready,” Chey warned.
Olsen spun around, watching in a detached disbelief, mesmerized by the sight as Tater’s body convulsed, his back arched, and then he roared so loud that the windows shook. The fangs that were too large for his mate’s mouth began to recede, stopping their retraction when they were the size of what a normal vampire would have.
His blackened claws started to retract as well, normal fingernails appearing. Olsen held his breath, waiting to see what else would happen.
Slowly, very slowly, Tater’s normal coloring began to return. His skin didn’t stop changing though. Not until it shimmered with a paleness that was utterly beautiful in Olsen’s opinion. It was better than the pale green and more ethereal than his usual peachiness.
“What about his size?” Olsen asked as he took a hesitant step closer, watching every single move his mate made.
Chey shook his head as he rocked back on his heels. “I’m afraid that will stay. There were compromises to make, and his size was one of them. He is, for all intents and purposes, a full vampire now. The drug will always be in him, making him aggressive at times, but he should be okay. I would blacken out the windows before he awakens.”
Olsen, along with his pa, began to grab blankets and whatever else they could find to shield his mate from the harmful UV rays. When they had sufficiently covered the windows, Olsen turned back to Chey. “Can I go to him now?”
Chey slid from the bed, his face marred with stress lines that hadn’t been there before. He swayed slightly and then laid a hand on the bed to steady himself.
Eagle took a step forward, his hand extending, and then he pulled it away, taking a step back as if afraid to touch Chey.
Olsen never stopped to think what helping his mate might do to the small wolf. “Can I do anything for you?”
The question made Eagle growl, but Olsen ignored the sound. He was worried about the healer.
“No, but thank you. I just need to go home and rest.”
Olsen knew there was more to it than that. But if Chey didn’t want any help, there was nothing he could do. “Thank you…for everything. I owe you my mate’s life. If there is anything I can ever do for you, all you have to do is ask.”
Chey gave Olsen a weak smile as he headed for the bedroom door. He turned as he reached it, staring over at Tater. “He’s going to need blood when he awakens. More than you have to give. Let your womb mates feed him as well. I’m not sure how he will act since he is a hybrid. So be warned.”
Olsen nodded as he crossed the room, crawling onto the bed with Tater as Chey and Eagle exited the room.
“I’m going to head out,” Maverick said as he pushed away from the wall. “Let me know if there is anything you need.”
“Thanks,” Pa said as he walked out with the alpha, leaving Olsen alone with his mate.
Olsen wasn’t sure what was going to happen once his mate came to. He held on to the fact that Tater was still alive and that was all that mattered to him. He curled his body around the man that was twice Olsen’s size now and laid his head on Tater’s massive chest.
He found himself dozing as he listened to the steady beat of his mate’s heart, something he prayed he would hear for a long time to come.
Chapter Ten
Hunger.
Pain.
Thirst.
His mind whirled as he tried desperately to organize his thoughts. They were scattered, forming and then fleeing before he could make sense of them.
A heartbeat.
He could hear a heart beating so close that he swore he could taste the blood in his mouth already. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scents all around him. His fingers curled into tight fists as the heartbeat picked up its pace, thundering loudly. It was so damn close.
His head began to hurt when he found that there were too many sensations barraging him. The sound of the heart, the pain in his bones, and the feel of hunger clawing at his gut were confusing him. He wasn’t sure which one to focus on first.
Hunger.
The clawing in his stomach doubled in its intensity as his body began to pulse with pain. He needed to eat, to drink, to quench this unrelenting thirst that threatened to tear apart his very foundation.
His eyes flew open, grabbing the source of the beating heart as he sank his teeth into soft, giving flesh. The taste exploded in his mouth, making him hold the heartbeat tighter, daring anyone to take his source away.
“Tater!”
He could hear the screaming, clarifying in his mind that there was more than one voice shouting at him, but he was lost in the delicious taste that was easing his hunger, his thirst. His body bucked, and he swung his arm out as his nose was pinched and the source stolen right from under him. He roared as he reached for that ambrosia that was easing his pain.
He whimpered when it was returned. He grabbed it tightly in his hands as he sank his teeth back in. It wasn’t the same. This was different. He wanted to protest, but even though the source had changed in flavor, it was still helping to ease the clawing at his very soul.
“Tater.”
He whimpered again. Was his source going to be taken from him a second time? He wrapped his body around the beating pulse, drinking deeply.
“Tater. Let Gavin go.”
He hurriedly drank, taking large gulps as fear set in that he was going to lose the very thing that was helping him. He couldn’t allow that. He didn’t want the agonizing pain to return. He lashed out, his hand coming into contact with something as his nose was pinched once again.
“Calm down, love.”
His chest began to expand and contract painfully as he inhaled, looking for the one thing that was sure to free him from this hunger.
There it was again.
He grabbed it, bit into it, and then rolled, trapping it under him as he drank so greedily that he began to gag.
“Slow down, love.”
He couldn’t.
If he did, they would take it away again before he could make the pain go away. He felt someone pushing at him, trying to roll him over. He growled, hissed, and then gave off something sounding like a bark as he was forced to relent.
“Tater. Open your eyes, love. Focus. Look at me, beautiful.”
He blinked a few times,
the room finally coming into focus. His eyes locked onto his bear. His bear. Tater leapt at the speed of light, tackling Olsen to the floor. He tore at his mate’s clothes, needing to feel his mate’s warm flesh pressed against his bone-chilling coldness.
He heard a door close softly, but Tater was too far gone to care.
“Tater, stop!” Olsen growled.
He knew he had to stop, but Tater felt out of control. His hands shook violently as he ripped Olsen’s jeans from his body. “Help me,” he cried desperately.
His body swayed heavily as his breathing became labored when Olsen shifted, rearing up onto his hind legs, giving Tater a warning roar, his mate’s jaw almost unhinging, and his sharp incisors gleamed in the low lighting of the room.
Tater jumped back, crouching down into a position that readied him for an attack. The bear charged him, overtook him, and then sank his teeth deep into Tater’s shoulders. He knew what Olsen was doing. He was setting boundaries, showing Tater who the alpha of the two was.
His mind fought against the submission, but his body knew better than to fight his mate. It gave itself over to his bear. Olsen grunted, his breath snorting out of his muzzle as he slowly released his hold on Tater.
“Olsen,” Tater whimpered.
Olsen shifted, and his body blanketed Tater’s as his mate held on. “I have you, love.”
“W–What’s wrong with me?”
Olsen nuzzled his face into Tater’s neck, licking at Tater’s skin. “The vampire who attacked you was infected with a lethal drug. It was transferred into your system and almost killed you.” Olsen wrapped his arms around Tater, holding him tightly. “Christian had no choice but to convert you in order to save you. But it went wrong because of the drug. Maverick brought someone in to heal you. You’re a vampire now, love, only a little different.”
“I don’t understand.” Tater knew something was different, physically and mentally. He could feel it.
God, how do I explain this to him?
“What?”