Primal Cravings

by Susan Sizemore

  All right, there was also a tiny almost on the atomic level unreasonable unprofessional insane little niggling part of her that was upset because he disliked her too much to give her his blood in the regular vampire way. She wasn’t good enough for him—hmmph!

  Or maybe she was thinking in this insane way from being light-headed with hunger. When was the last time she’d had a meal? Dee took a deep breath and sucked it up, putting her mind back into the op.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jake sensed the moment the witch stopped taking it personally and turned back into a professional operator. It happened sooner than he thought it would. In fact, he hadn’t been certain it would happen at all. Working with mortals bothered him. He was still getting used to being around mortals. The ones in the Crew meant well, and were as tough as mortals could be, but still fragile creatures compared to vampires and werefolk.

  He kept a close, protective hold around the witch’s waist—her slender, graceful, pliable, warm waist—as he took them toward tables set up against the wall at the back of the room. He resisted the urge to stroke his hand up the side of her body and across her stomach. He’d glimpsed a flash of a Celtic knotwork tattoo around her navel and wanted to trace the curving outline. He could have told her the caress was for the sake of the pretense that she was in thrall to him. The truth was he kept his hands to himself because it was torture and temptation enough for him as things already were.

  Other Primes’ hands brushed her body. He flashed fang, and she kept quiet. No doubt she thought his possessive reactions part of an act. The truth was he ached to get into a brawl over possession of her, to emerge triumphant and claim her up against the back wall. But—McCoy didn’t know that.

  Piper forgot his psychic and physical urges when he saw that the Prime he wanted to speak with was sitting at his usual table. Berhard, a survivor of Tribe Hydra, born to gossip, insatiably curious, made a career selling information. Not a profitable career, as the Tribes were secretive and grew more paranoid with each desertion or death of one of their Primes. So, while he gathered less and less intel regarding the Tribes, he’d been smart enough to turn his attention to the scraps he could gather about every type of supernatural and magical doing.

  Jake took a seat at Berhard’s table, leaving McCoy standing beside him. She leaned her hip on his shoulder. Jake waited a moment, ordering bloodwine from a passing server, giving Berhard time to look over the mortal female.

  “Would you prefer cash or a tasting?” Jake asked Berhard after the other Prime got a good look at McCoy. The witch put her hand on the back of his neck. Her nails dug against Jake’s skin. She had no idea how much he enjoyed it.

  “You know I don’t work on a trade basis,” Berhard said. “Cash only.”

  McCoy’s hand relaxed, but her fingers stayed where they were.

  Nice.

  When the wine arrived, Jake pushed the bottle to Berhard’s side of the table. He got a questioning look. “I’ve never liked the taste of the stuff.”

  Berhard looked McCoy over again. “You have your own vintage.”

  The Tribe Prime poured and downed a large glass of herb/blood/wine mixture. The stuff was awful, and more of an affectation than a medication. It was an imitation of the brew Clan and Family vampires used to help curb the constant craving for blood, sex, and fighting. Jake used the real stuff these days. It gave a nice buzz and balm, but discipline and constant self-control was what really worked.

  Self-control sorely tested every moment he spent around Dee McCoy.

  “Looking for work again, Damon?” Berhard asked.

  Damon was Jake’s nom de guerre.

  Jake shrugged. “Such is the mercenary life. With the Damned Angels in town, is it better for me to lay low or find employment where no vampire treads?”

  * * *

  Damned Angels, indeed, Dee thought as Piper and the seedy Prime across from him exchanged snippets of what she hoped Piper interpreted as information. It made sense that there was some sort of Tribe pidgin or code to keep prying ears away. She supposed Piper would let her know if he found out anything useful when they were once again alone.

  Soon, she hoped. Dee desperately wanted to get away from this dark and disgusting place. She hadn’t meant to leave her hand on the base of Piper’s neck, or to lean her weight against his solidly muscled body, but she felt—safer—with the contact. Somehow, she got the notion that Piper felt better having her hand on him, as well. He’d been stiff with tension, coiled energy radiating dangerously from him, when he sat down. She was all too aware of his body against hers, of the slight relaxation, of his unconsciously leaning into her touch.

  While he talked, Dee listened. There was a conversation between a trio of Primes at a nearby table which drew her attention. The vampires talked about her a bit, assessing her physical attributes, wondering how she performed pleasuring her owner blah, blah, blah.

  It was when the conversation turned to one of the Primes complaining about hunting for a lost sex slave that she became interested. Annoyingly, their voices had been fairly loud while discussing her, but went low when the conversation turned to business. Dee had to concentrate hard to hear what little she did, but those few words intrigued the hell out of her. Sorcerer. Blood friends. Burners. And Burners Coven.

  Who the heck were Burners? Why did they have a coven?

  Dee bent to give her Prime Master a sexy lick on the ear. She whispered, “Ask about burners.”

  Piper’s fist landed on the metal tabletop with horrific force. “Woman!” he snarled as he surged to his feet.

  Dee straightened and stumbled backward, dizzy with her own speed and the fear shooting through her. Piper’s gaze stabbed into her soul, burning into her core.

  She bumped into a solid, hard body. A hand landed on her shoulder.

  A voice whispered softly in her ear. “Excuse me, miss, but haven’t we met somewhere before?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jake sprang forward, snatching his woman from the blond Prime. She hit the floor and he leapt to stand protectively over her. The other Prime ducked away from Jake’s swiping claws.

  “Stay down,” he ordered her when McCoy tried to rise.

  MINE!! Jake shouted his ownership into the intruding Prime’s mind. She is mine!

  The blond Prime grabbed a chair and held it up before him. Jake broke a leg off the chair, threw it, and it grazed the top of the blond’s head. The blond went down, and fell over a table before his limp body hit the floor. The heavy metal table toppled over onto him. He didn’t move.

  Jake picked up his witch. He carried her to the darkest corner of the dark room. He pushed her back against the wall, pinned her there with a thigh between her legs. His lips came down on hers with bruising force. Her mouth opened on a gasp. Her tongue twined eagerly with his, thrusting with equal hunger.

  Jake’s hand moved up under her knit shirt, his hand covered her breast, pressed against a hard nipple.

  Her hips ground against his. She moaned.

  Then she shouted, Stop it! Stop now! inside his head.

  You’re mine! Her sweet taste, scent, and feel overpowered him. He continued caressing her body. Mine! he emphasized with every touch.

  Game’s over, Piper—damn, that feels so—but—Stop it! Stop right—soon.

  Her hands pushed against his shoulders. Her weak mortal touch added to his excitement. So vulnerable. So—

  Her fists smashed into the side of his head so hard Jake’s ears rang.

  That wouldn’t have stopped him having her.

  It was, Partners, Piper! Remember the op, Dark Angel!

  Dark Angel.

  Jake stepped back, held his hands up in front of him. He took deep breaths, controlled the arousal. McCoy watched him warily, panting herself.

  “Go,” she whispered between shaking breaths. “Let’s just go.”

  She tried to shake him off when he put his arm around her waist.

  “Business,” he said.

 
She stopped struggling, and he hurried them out of the vampire bar.

  * * *

  “Euww! I so need a shower!” Dee said when they reached the staircase to the parking lot.

  “The kiss was not that disgusting, witch.” The vampire’s tone was almost a harsh growl.

  “I’m soaked in whatever that floor was covered in. I’m sticky and stinky and—how could you kiss someone who stinks like I do?”

  “I didn’t notice at the time. Prime hormones kicked in.”

  “Sometimes the act takes over the actor?” Dee asked.

  He stopped just before they reached the bottom of the steps. With his hand on her arm, Dee had no choice but to do the same. He looked at her thoughtfully—or so Dee concluded as it was dark our here.

  “You are on to something there, witch. Lucky guess,” he added. He let her go and continued toward the SUV.

  Dee stuck her tongue out, and followed him. “Did you find out anything useful?” she asked when she caught up. “There’s a vampire sitting on the roof,” she added.

  “I noticed.”

  “I didn’t bring my fiddle with me,” the blond Prime said. He started humming Fiddler on the Roof.

  “I’ve seen you before,” Piper said. “Before I hit you.”

  The blond slid off the roof to stand before them. “Laurent Wolf of Clan Wolf. We helped prevent forest fires together a while back.”

  “It’s been less than a week,” Piper said.

  “Though it does seem like a couple of years,” Dee said.

  She recalled now where they’d encountered this Prime. He was out of San Diego, bonded or married, she wasn’t sure which, to a mortal vampire hunter. They’d been part of a volunteer group of supernaturals Tobias had gathered to scour the burned ground of a wildfire. They’d assisted the Crew in the search for evidence that the arson had been set by supernatural bad guys.

  “Your boss was trying to recruit a bunch of us to the Dark Angels,” Laurent Wolf said.

  “That too,” Dee said.

  “My wife’s half-convinced we ought to sign up, but I prefer that we stick to our own business.”

  “Which is?” Piper asked.

  “We work for a missing persons agency.”

  “Run by werewolves,” Dee recalled. “Joe used to work with this guy,” she reminded Piper. Joe being a werewolf member of the Angels.

  “What are you doing here?” Piper asked the other Prime.

  “The obvious answer is that I’m looking for a missing person.” Laurent Wolf looked around the dark parking lot. “Let’s move this conversation somewhere absolutely private,” he suggested. “I forgive you for the pain you caused me,” he said to Piper. He winced as he patted the top of his head. “But my suit will never be the same.” He glanced at Dee. “You know how I feel, right?”

  * * *

  Jake knew about Laurent Wolf. They had a lot in common. Wolf had been born into the Manticore Tribe. But instead of having to go through the reeducation program when he turned himself in to the good guys, Laurent had instantly been accepted as a Clan Wolf Prime. Clan. The blatantly prejudiced, supercilious, holier than everybody knights in shining armor of vampiredom just took him in because the female who’d been his dam was Wolf Clan.

  Jake hated Laurent Wolf.

  More because he was being charming to McCoy than for his easily won exalted place in the Prime hierarchy.

  * * *

  “Yes, it is wonderful to be me,” Laurent said. He held his arms out to take in the parking lot, and the world beyond. Then he looked sharply around. “Just checking to see that my wife isn’t here. She’d have swatted me on the back of the head by now if she were.” He sighed. “I love it when she does that.” He looked at the other Prime. “Domestication. That’s what we all crave.” He took a deep breath. “Ah, the electric aroma of an incipient bond.”

  Both Piper and McCoy glared at him. He noticed how carefully they didn’t look at each other. Aw, they were so cute at that age!

  Piper took an aggressive step toward him. So did McCoy. The pair were more of a team than they realized.

  Laurent held up a hand. “Or perhaps it’s what we picked up from the bar floor clogging up my senses.”

  “No doubt,” McCoy said, very firmly. “I heard you talking in there,” she went on. “Magic was mentioned.”

  Piper jerked a thumb at McCoy. “Magic is her gig. We have our own assignment, so I don’t think we have time for a private chat.”

  “I’m trying to rescue a Prime’s granddaughter from a satanic coven.” That got McCoy’s attention. “I think there’s a human sacrifice in the works.”

  “Energy building or energy directed?” she asked.

  “Uh…What?” Laurent asked.

  Piper gave his partner an exasperated look. “Get in the car, McCoy. You too,” he added to Laurent.

  After they’d driven a few miles up the coast, Piper pulled to the side of the road. Laurent started to speak from the back seat, but Piper raised a hand to stop him.

  “Your thoughts, McCoy?” he asked.

  She glanced back at Laurent. “The missing girl is psychic?”

  “Somewhat,” Laurent said. “Or so her grandmother, who is our client, says. But no attempt at telepathic contact or tracing has worked.”

  “Poor kid,” McCoy said.

  “How do you know she’s a kid?” Piper ask.

  Oh, don’t bicker now, children, Laurent thought, but he kept the thought to himself, and said nothing, waiting for the couple to work it out.

  “Okay, a vampire’s granddaughter isn’t necessarily a youngster,” McCoy admitted to Piper.

  Laurent hid a smile at how reluctant she sounded making any concession to Piper. Not that either of them were aware of anything but each other.

  “What’s the difference between energy-building and energy-directed human sacrifice? And what do you think it has to do with our assignment?” Piper asked. “And, yes, I agree that human sacrifice is a Bad Thing before you object to my callous response to the mention of it.”

  “You’re taking all the fun out of it for her,” Laurent muttered. And for him too, he supposed, but the entertainment value wasn’t worth the time wasted when a young woman’s life was at stake.

  “Well, we have a missing Tower practitioner. Tower types specialize in building a store of energy with a great many types of spells. They wait until they have enough stored magic to use for the big spell that is their real objective.”

  “What’s directed magic?” Piper asked.

  “The sort I do. It’s a specific drawing of power for one thing, at one time.”

  “Immediate use rather than storing energy?”

  “Yep.”

  “How is this energy stored?”

  “In an organic vessel. Eventually the organic vessel is destroyed to release the energy.”

  “Organic vessel. You mean a person, don’t you?”

  “Of course that’s what I mean.”

  “How do you put energy into a person?”

  “I’m not sure, exactly. Sex is probably involved.”

  “Do you mean ritual rape?”

  “Yes. I guess. In theory.”

  “And you think vampires are disgusting?”

  “I don’t think vampires are disgusting. And human sacrifice and other ritualized barbarity is anathema in the Craft. It isn’t done!”

  “Then why did you so casually list the types of human sacrifice?”

  “I didn’t! I was talking about invoking magical energy! I know the theories, all right? I don’t know anything about actual practice. It isn’t done!” McCoy shouted angrily at Piper.

  “It’s about to be done,” Laurent broke in. The Dark Angel operators turned to look at him as though they’d forgotten he was in the back seat. He also knew they had no conscious awareness of how high the sexual tension was turned up between them.

  “Maybe your Wizard of Oxnard is up to something,” Piper said to McCoy.

  “Hell,
no!” she answered. After a moment, she added, “Unless he’s being coerced. Or someone stole his book of shadows. There’d be ancient spells in the book. But what do they want the magic for?”

  “It’s our job to find out,” Piper said. He jerked a thumb back at Laurent. “We’re going to help our friend here rescue his missing person.”

  “Much appreciated,” Laurent told Piper.

  He’d been working with werefolk for a while, who were touchy-feely types. It took a conscious effort for Laurent not to slap the other Prime gratefully on the shoulder. He recalled in time that Piper would not appreciate being touched by a vampire he didn’t know. Laurent had been raised in a Tribe himself, where any touching between Primes was only for inflicting pain to show dominance.

  “I’ve traced the girl to this area, and to a group that calls themselves the Burners. But I haven’t yet found out who the Burners are or where they’re keeping the kid.”

  “That’s because you weren’t drinking at the right table,” Piper said. “I know where the Burners are hanging out.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Piper stepped onto the street and closed the car door. The sun wasn’t quite up, but it was light enough to make out details of the landscape. He looked up and down the curve of the suburban street tucked on the hillside, and gave an exaggerated shudder.

  “Scariest place I’ve ever seen,” he said.

  House after almost identical house stood out in the first faint glow of dawn light. Dee saw what the Prime found disturbing, but she didn’t think the sight was anything to sneer at.

  “I grew up in a neighborhood like this,” she said, coming to stand in front of him on the empty street. “Well, it didn’t look a thing like this, with the multiple garages and huge yards.”

  “What did it look like, then?”

  “Blocky brick houses all alike, set close together on street after street, with tiny yards. Typical Chicago neighborhood. It’s what goes on inside that makes a home or a hell.”

  He stared at her. “I have no concept.”

  His dark eyes held a confused pain that momentarily made her want to hug him.