Isolated Maneuver: An Immortal Ops World Novel (Immortal Outcasts Series Book 3)

by Mandy M. Roth

  When he did, his jaw dropped. “Nymphs?”

  The women shared a flirtatious look and then focused their seductions on Bane, coming right for him. Putting his hands up, Bane took a small step back, ashamed of himself as a man. Any other time, if he was lucky enough to run into nymphs and they came in pairs, he’d have leapt at the chance to fuck them, especially with as long as he’d denied himself carnal pleasures. But now wasn’t the time. He had to find Bill and Gus and get them tucked away where they couldn’t cause any more trouble.

  Who was he kidding? There was no place on the earth those two would be safe from causing trouble.

  They were simply that good at stirring up shit.

  The women offered sexy smiles, and the blonde on the left giggled. “We’ve been expecting you.”

  “You have?” he asked, unsure what was going on. The last time he’d ventured into an establishment that offered sex to supernaturals, he’d ended up in a fight to the death with a fair number of hybrid bad guys. Had he stumbled on another of Helmuth’s sex clubs? Was this one full of people wanting him dead too, or worse yet, captured?

  Bane stared around, trying to get a read. The vibe in the club was neutral for the moment, but he’d been alive long enough to know that could turn on a dime. He’d never known nymphs to side with evil, but knew to expect the unexpected.

  The redheaded one on the right pushed her chest out more, as if he couldn’t already tell she had a great body. She was tall, with big breasts—just the way he liked a woman to be. He was a big guy and had never been attracted to women who weren’t above average in height. And he’d always preferred blondes and redheads to brunettes.

  It took Bane a moment to realize his cock wasn’t responding as it normally would around women like the ones near him now.

  Something was off.

  Was his ability to sense danger off as well?

  If so, the entire club could be a well-laid trap, and he was walking right into the lion’s den. He hesitated a fraction of a second before he realized it wasn’t his first time doing so, and it sure in the hell would not be his last.

  No time like the present to live a little, he thought.

  The redhead skimmed her fingers over his exposed arm, and he felt her power rushing over his skin. Bane stiffened, expecting to lose control and possibly shift forms and attack the women. His beast was unpredictable when it came to sexual urges. It had taken lives before in a heightened state of arousal, and he didn’t want to go down that path again.

  He couldn’t.

  The redhead eased closer to him. “Relax, big man. Your friends are here.”

  Confused, he shook his head. “What?”

  The blonde giggled once more. “The little human was correct. This one does seem dim-witted.”

  That snapped Bane out of his stupor. He gently removed the redhead’s hand from his arm. “Ladies, if you could direct me to the little human in question, I would appreciate it.”

  “Have you no need of us?” asked the redhead.

  He did, but he needed to get Bill and Gus away from the general public before they did something he couldn’t fix. “No.”

  They laughed. The redhead leaned in closer. “What about news of your mate? Do you wish us to share that?”

  He paused. Did they really have information to share with him about a mate?

  As he thought harder on it, he realized how ridiculous he was being. He wasn’t one of the lucky operatives. He didn’t have a mate.

  “We always do so enjoy watching your kind be gifted their true loves,” the redhead said. “Want us to share what we know of her? What we have foreseen?”

  “Uh, no. I’m good.”

  The blonde smiled wide. “He radiates denial and doubt.”

  The redhead sighed. “Alphas always do.”

  “Dim-witted,” supplied the blonde once more.

  Bane grunted in frustration. “Ladies.”

  The redhead shrugged. “Fine. Follow us.”

  The bouncer stepped back, permitting him entrance.

  Motioning to the center stage, the redhead leaned against him and then petted his upper body. “Your friends are waiting for you.”

  “What?” he asked, before spotting who the woman was talking about.

  Bane stood just inside the entrance to the club and had to take a moment to let the sight before him sink in. Bill was near the stage with two topless women on his lap, watching as one of the dancers on stage finished her set. He looked like a high roller getting the VIP treatment.

  Gus was sitting at a table by himself, leaning forward, his mouth on the end of a large straw that was in an oversized margarita glass. There had to be at least twenty small umbrellas in his drink. And the man still had on the helmet and goggles.

  Bane glanced upwards. “You have got to be kidding me. Wasn’t being tested on and tortured enough? You had to stick me with these two too?”

  “Oh, you were correct,” the blonde said to the redhead. “He is one of the made warriors. They’re always our favorites.”

  Bane did a double take, wondering what the women really were.

  They took a step back from him and then paused, sharing a look. It was the redhead who spoke. “This sanctuary is supposed to be a safe haven. The truce will be violated very soon. We must go, but you must stay.”

  It was official. The nymphs were off their rockers. Not as though they were known for their sanity or anything. “Ladies, have you been dipping into Bill’s stash of good shit he’s always trying to get people to share?”

  The women stepped into the crowd and within seconds, Bane lost sight of them. Their scent was gone as well. The entire event was unnerving. With a sigh, he stalked toward Bill, his intention to break the small man in two.

  He was about to make contact with Bill when he caught the scent of jasmine and vanilla. The combination halted his progress on attacking Bill and made him draw back in a state of bewilderment. His brain stopped thinking clearly as everything north of his naval stopped working properly. Everything south was on high alert, his cock noting the magnificent fragrance instantly, reminding him that he’d denied himself sex for far too long. But even with how long he’d gone between releases, his reaction to the scent wasn’t normal. It was colossally disproportioned.

  It was also messing with his ability to keep his gorilla at bay. His inner beast made a move to surface at a rate that he wasn’t sure he could withstand. Somehow, he managed, but it was only by sheer dumb luck, not skill or decades of practice.

  His hand went to his back pocket where his wallet normally was. For some strange reason, he wanted the photo of the succubus in his hand. Wanted to view it, hold it and savor its closeness.

  Realizing Bill still had his wallet, Bane whipped his gaze to the small man. He couldn’t find his voice to demand the picture. His beast was that close to the surface. There was a very real danger that he’d truly hurt Bill if he attempted to take the wallet from him. As annoying as the human was, Bane didn’t want to actually hurt him. He could kill him if he wasn’t careful.

  That would never do.

  His fingers burned with the need to change. His back began to pinch, a sign a shift was pending. His jumbled thoughts continued to make little sense to him. All he could cling to was the smell of jasmine and vanilla. Its owner, whoever she was—because the scent most decidedly female—was going to wreck him. She was going to reduce him to a mindless alpha, locked in shifted form, unable to think or control his actions. That was what happened to shifters males when the blood lust took over.

  Stumbling backwards, he shook his head, fearful he’d lose control and do a full shift in the middle of the bar. He was pretty sure the place was full of nothing but supernaturals, but that didn’t matter. When Bane lost control, no one was safe. Not even those like him. They’d never be able to contain him or keep the general public safe.

  Vaguely, he heard someone saying his name. He couldn’t focus on anything other than his nearing shift.


  “Monkey-boy, what is wrong with you?” Bill’s voice cut through whatever was happening to him.

  Bane trembled, his body tense, his heart racing as he stared down at the man. “W-what?”

  Bill leaned back in his chair, his eyes unblinking. “Those protein shakes have made your brain shit. Total and utter shit. Have a beer and loosen up. You’re wound tighter than a corkscrew.”

  With an annoyed breath, Bane said, “Give me my wallet and my keys. We’re leaving.”

  With stubborn arrogance, Bill remained in place, grinning at one of the women who was rubbing herself against his side. If the place had a no-touching-the-merchandise policy, the chick was violating it big time. So was Bill.

  Be patient, came Gus’s voice in Bane’s head. And be ready.

  “Ready for what?” he asked, turning to face Gus as the man took the last few big gulps of his drink.

  Bill laughed, sounding thoroughly amused. “Gus is well on his way to being three sheets to the wind.”

  “Great. Just what we need. Gus drunk,” snapped Bane, positive he couldn’t be doing a worse job of keeping the two men out of trouble than he was doing now. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “You don’t listen well,” said Bill with a huff. “We’re here to get you sexed up.”

  “I passed on the offerings when I got in here. We need to get you two somewhere with less people. You’re pretty much accidents waiting to happen. Give me my wallet. I want a picture from it—now.”

  Bill’s face scrunched. “Passed on the offerings? Gus didn’t tell me your mate was here yet.”

  “Seriously, stop with the mate crap. Ladies,” he said to the topless dancers, who were still petting Bill as if he were a prized possession. “He’s done now.”

  They pouted, throwing themselves on Bill. One ran her hands through his already crazy hair, making it stick up in every direction. “Tell him no, Wild Bill. We want you to stay. We always love getting to see you. You’ve put far too long between visits.”

  They knew him?

  Of course they did.

  Prying the women from him, Bill stood slowly. “Ladies, relax. I’m not going anywhere. You have me for a while longer.”

  They pawed at him more.

  Bill grinned and nodded in Bane’s direction. “My buddy there has a genetically enhanced dick. I’ve seen others the government did. They’re massive. You should ask him if you can see his.”

  Stunned, Bane stood there a moment before grabbing for Bill and yanking him close. He lifted the small man off the floor. When he was nose to nose with him, he lowered his voice. “How’s about you not spread around that I’m an Outcast, and don’t talk about my dick. The government didn’t do anything to it. It came this way. And give me my wallet.”

  Bill tapped his shoulder. “For the record, you’re the one who told them you’re an Outcast by going all alpha on me just now. And for real? You were born with that thing?”

  “I will eat you,” warned Bane.

  “Gus says you won’t really. I believe Gus. Want to sample one of my girls before yours gets here? Last taste of freedom before the ball and chain arrives.”

  He dropped the man and stepped back. “There is no dealing with you.”

  Bill landed with ease on his feet, smiled, and adjusted the cuffs on the jacket. “Thanks. Now, ladies, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?”

  “My wallet, now!” stressed Bane, his emotions on edge. He could still smell the faintest hints of jasmine and vanilla. He didn’t trust himself, his temper, or his control.

  A knowing smile came over Bill’s face. “Why? Want the picture of Weston’s mate? That is a big no-no—having a thing for your best friend’s girl.”

  “What?” asked Bane, stunned. “I don’t have a thing for Paisley.”

  “She’s in the picture you want so badly.”

  Growling, Bane’s nostrils flared. “You looked at it?”

  “Sure.” Bill licked his lips. “So you want the other girl then? I gotta tell you, neither of those girls looks like they’re of age in the photo. Cradle robber.”

  Bane grunted. “It’s an old photo!”

  “Not denying you got a thing for the other girl in the picture?” questioned Bill, appearing far too pleased with his antics for Bane’s liking.

  “Gus is wrong. I will so eat you!”

  Chapter Seven

  Galiena roamed around the club she’d entered through a back door. Having tracked the scent of power and sex to the location, she was now basking in the residual carnal energy. It coated the inside of the establishment and was welcome in her current state of need. It soaked through her pores. She should have been more than sated with what she’d done to the man in the alley, but that hadn’t even taken the edge off her hunger.

  It had only intensified it.

  She felt as if she’d explode if she didn’t feed the hunger again, and soon. Ravenous, she stared around, trying to find a suitable subject. There was enough of her left that she wouldn’t permit her darkness to feed from anyone who was good or pure of heart.

  Her darkness pushed at her, demanding she mindlessly feed. It took everything in her to maintain control.

  “No!” she shouted, drawing the attention of several people at the end of a long hall.

  A tall man who was just this side of too much muscle approached. His long blond hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck. He wore a vintage band shirt and a pair of faded jeans, looking casual and aloof when she suspected he’d actually spent a great deal of time selecting the outfit. As though he needed others to see him as nothing special, when normally, he would command attention with his presence.

  There was a certain Nordic quality to him. Normally, he was exactly the type of man she’d want to feed her succubus side. Was he good or bad?

  She waited, letting her darkness do whatever it was it did, now that it had been changed. At once her darkness knew she was dealing with a shifter with a fair amount of vampire in him—a hybrid. She nearly breathed a sigh of relief, assuming he’d be a candidate for her to feed from.

  When her darkness detected he wasn’t evil, Galiena began to shake, holding to her darkness much like a child trying to wrestle an alligator. She wouldn’t permit herself to feed from him.

  “Are you all right?” the man asked, his worried gaze raking over her. There was no suggestion of desire in his expression, merely concern. He was much taller than her, and when he reached a hand out to make contact, she jerked back from his touch.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said, a note of sorrow showing.

  Terror took the lead. She couldn’t kill an innocent. “No! I’m not safe to touch.”

  Confusion coated his face briefly, and then cleared. He looked as if he understood why she’d said such a thing. Taking a step back, he wisely avoided direct contact with her. “Okay. I won’t touch you, but you need help.”

  “You can’t help me. No one can,” she said, hurrying past him, her body aching, feeling as if she’d burst into flames if she didn’t get closer to the sexual energy happening in the place. She knew without checking that the blond man was shadowing her, but she didn’t care. She just didn’t want him to touch her.

  She didn’t want anyone to touch her. Whatever Krauss had done to her was getting worse. Soon, she’d be unable to stop herself from going on an endless killing spree.

  You need to end your life to protect others, she thought, the realization hitting her hard. Her darkness bellowed. She fought to keep it at bay enough to function as she neared the main portion of the bar.

  Every time she breathed in, her darkness caught the scent of supernaturals. The club was teaming with them. The place was large and had a stage in the center of it. When she spotted dancers wearing only tiny bottoms, moving on the stage, she realized just what kind of club she’d wandered into—a sex one. She didn’t need to be told more. This was a place that more than likely had wards on it to keep humans away, so that it could cater to the supernatural.
Jinx’s place had been like that too, but it had been upscale and classy, unlike the club she was currently in.

  She’d seen and been in far worse, so she wasn’t about to judge. Galiena needed the sexual energy the establishment was providing and beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  A number of other scantily clad women were giving lap dances to various men around the club. Jinx would have never stood for that going on in the main area of her club. She’d have insisted that type of behavior happen behind closed doors. Galiena nearly laughed at the irony of her wandering into a sex club…when the strangest urge to stop and look to her right came over her.

  She did—and for a moment, if felt as everything else around her had faded away.

  All that remained was her and the hulk of a man standing on the other side of the club, the stage separating them.

  He was wearing black from head to toe, and was well over six and a half feet tall. His dark hair was pulled up haphazardly. A close-cut, dark beard covered his squared jawline, partially hiding his wild handsomeness. There was no denying the dominance rolling off him. It poured over the bar, running like a wave directly at her. She could almost feel it as it moved over her. It caused her body to respond even more to him.

  Everything about the man screamed powerful and alpha.

  He was amazingly sexy.

  And familiar.

  So familiar.

  It was as if her mind’s version of the perfect male had come to life. Was she dead? Dreaming? Was she still being held captive by Helmuth, but under the influence of Krauss’s drugs? Was this all a hallucination?

  She rubbed her eyes, and then stared across the club at the man once more. He was still there. She pinched her upper arm and he was still there.

  “Holy crap,” she mouthed, her body tightening.

  His skin was tawny, and while the lights were focused on the stage more than anything, she was pretty sure she spotted scars on his forearms. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black—and they were currently locked on her.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  Her darkness beat at her from within, demanding she go in the direction of the man. Galiena remained frozen in place, fearing her reaction to him. Fearing what she’d do if she actually made skin-to-skin contact with him. Would she drain the life from everyone in the damn bar?