Alphas for the Holidays

by Mandy M. Roth

  High screeches faintly traveled on the air. He frowned, wondering what they were.

  Transporting. His own phobia. It was like claustrophobia. For seconds it felt as if something or someone were pressing all the air from his lungs, pressing the world down on him, pressing.

  With a faint pop, he took a deep breath, and found himself inside his office. He quickly straightened his tie and picked up his cologne, and splashed some on his hands. One of the security monitors showed two males—her males—pass his own guards. He clicked the monitor to another channel, this one kept watch on the dance floor, and quickly used his power to erase the clip where he’d taken his latest pretty. He held the bottle of cologne and waited. Just as his door burst open, he let it tip, dumping the overpowering scent all over him.

  He scrunched his nose and cursed. Then shook his hands off and picked up a towel from the nearby sink. “Gentlemen, may I help you?”

  They both stood glaring at him, the blond, his eyes as cold and hard as the rarest of emeralds, the other, dark-haired with violet eyes. Supernaturals.

  He merely wiped his hands off and then sat behind his desk, pulling out a cigar from his humidor. He waved to his guards who came limping into the doorway. “It’s all right, Vladimir.”

  The guard muttered something beneath his breath, but the two men ignored it.

  “Now, how can I help you?”

  “A woman is missing,” the violet-eyed vamp all but snarled. “As the owner of this club, we demand your cooperation.”

  Kladovik raised a brow. “A woman? Is there a specific one you’re referring to?” He swept his arm out. “I assure you, we can probably find you another.”

  The blond only raised his head and sniffed, his eyes glowing. Then his gaze fell to the bottle of cologne.

  Hell.

  “Where is she?” the blond asked.

  He looked at the men, then at the tip of his cigar. He clipped the end and lit the best Cuba had to offer. “Who is she?”

  Neither answered.

  Kladovik inhaled and blew the smoke out into the air. “I don’t appreciate people coming into my place and fighting, disrupting my dancers, causing problems.” He motioned with his cigar towards the blond and stood. “I do have to commend you on your performance. It’s not too often we get such an authentic…” he smirked and thought for a moment, then shrugged, “…blatant display of pleasure for the sake of entertainment.” He motioned to the sidebar. “Drinks, gentlemen?”

  The black-haired man flew across the room, his fangs extended, even as his hand wrapped around Kladovik’s neck. He took a deep breath, then leaned in and took another deep inhale. The violet gaze lit with rage and the hand around his neck tightened, the vamp’s fangs clear and threatening. Yet another first.

  They knew.

  “Where the hell is she?” the vamp asked in a low, icy voice.

  Deciding now was the time, Kladovik only smiled, blew out the stream of smoke into the vamp’s face and then, transported. The crushing sensation and reemergence wasn’t as smooth as he’d have liked. He literally popped into the limo.

  Sighing, he leaned back and glanced at the woman draped in the seat next to him. He ran a hand over her short dark hair and then chuckled. Plans changed. He wouldn’t try to dissuade them of his involvement. He’d thought he could. Thought he’d cover her scent by his cologne. But they—the Hunters—had clearly smelled her on him, or the vamp had. Who was the other man? The mate? He shook off the worry. In hindsight he realized perhaps he should not have returned to his office. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. This upped the challenge of eluding the authorities. Supernatural authorities were not as lenient as mortal ones. No, the punishment was swift and severe.

  A trickle of worry slithered through him, but he shrugged it off and studied her. The perfect angle of her wide cheek bones, the lush lips…

  This would be more fun.

  A little more danger.

  He laughed and ran his finger over the bridge of her nose. “We’re going to have fun, you and I.”

  Chapter 8

  Saker paced the office. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be out there. Searching, not here with these people.

  She was his.

  His head hurt like a son of a bitch. When he found the bastard behind this…and he would… “Otmudohat,” he cursed.

  Erik nodded. “We will.”

  He stopped at the window. He had his best combing the city. He’d even sent an emissary to his father to let him know what had happened.

  And what the hell had happened?

  He couldn’t remember. Not really. He remembered dancing. He remembered her scent, dark and promising. Seduction.

  But there’d been no seduction.

  He’d fucked his mate on a stage in front of a room full of people.

  Erik simply stood against the wall. Other vamps and shifters were scouring the city looking for Reen.

  Cyzarine.

  An image of her wrapped around him, her breasts his for the taking, as he plunged into her, her cry filling his ears, burst into his mind.

  He had to find her.

  Had to…

  “I can’t believe I’m so stupid. So selfish,” the woman said yet again.

  No one answered her. The leader of the Hunters was currently not acting like a leader but as one who had lost a loved one.

  “I love Reen as a daughter. Both my girls. What was I thinking, Erik? You tried to talk me out of it. You tried.”

  Erik shoved away from the wall. “What do you think Reen would have done if we hadn’t involved her?”

  She wiped her eyes yet again, her hair as blonde as Saker’s. “She’d have gone out on her own. That’s what I kept thinking. I knew, knew she wouldn’t stop. But I never thought. Never stopped to think that maybe, that she could be…”

  She raised watery blue eyes to Erik and shook her head. “I’m turning this all over to you, Erik. I can’t think. I can’t… I’m too close. I don’t want this job anymore. I have two sons. I can’t…”

  Saker cleared his throat. “We’re going to find Reen. We’ll find your daughter as well.”

  Her attention swung back to him and whatever softness, vulnerability, he might have glimpsed in her was gone in a blink. Her sapphire gaze glittered. “What I want to know, Saker, is how the hell you managed to accomplish what you did.”

  He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”

  She snorted. “I do. You wanted her, you had her and damn the consequences. Just like always.” She sat heavily in the large maroon leather chair. “So many mistakes. So much to fix. So little time. Why do I feel like we have so little time?”

  “I still want to know what the hell he was thinking,” Erik growled.

  “Jealous, blood sucker?” Saker taunted. He was spoiling to finish what they started.

  Erik stared at him, his anger to the point that his iridescent, violet eyes had yet to return to normal. His fangs still shone in the lights. He hadn’t calmed at all since they’d left the club. “My only concern has ever and always been Reen and what is best for her. Unlike some, I put my own needs behind those.”

  Saker shrugged. “Well, if you hadn’t. She might be yours now.”

  Erik growled.

  Saker stood still waiting, just waiting.

  “Boys,” Navalovich admonished. “We don’t have time for this. Either Reen and Saker were honestly meant to be together and no amount of bond breaking or separation would keep them apart, or they won’t be and the…binding…” she said, frowning at Saker, “…won’t matter.”

  “It matters,” he said, softly, surprised.

  She only raised a brow. “Saker, you had your chance with her and, if memory serves, you decided she and her power were not worth your, or your people’s, time.”

  He looked back out the window and wondered when Gregori would return. Would his father know anything? A sliver of unease sharpened along his nerves. His father. The ki
ng would not be happy about this last turn of events—well, Cyzarine missing, obviously, but also Saker’s bonding with his past mate.

  He sighed and rubbed his face. An image rose again in his mind.

  A dark place, fear…a shimmer of hope.

  He frowned and closed his eyes. What the hell.

  Again, but this time sharper.

  The room was dark. A golden circle with spokes wheeling out from the center. A faint breeze. The scent of…

  “Kladovik.”

  The cologne.

  “We know he has her, tell us something we don’t know,” Erik shot off.

  Instead of meeting the taunt he concentrated. Please, please, please. He had to find her. Had to…

  A darkened window. And still that scent of sandalwood and—sulfur?—teased his senses.

  A shuffle of something. The sense that the room was large, the ceilings tall. He tried to see more, to get more of an image, but then blackness shuttered down, and fear slithered through him.

  Until he opened his eyes.

  It wasn’t his fear.

  It was hers.

  She was scared.

  Chapter 9

  Reen tried to focus, tried to understand what was going on. But she couldn’t grasp her thoughts. Couldn’t really see. She felt as if she were tilting one way then the other. As if she were rocking.

  Rocking?

  Was she on a ship?

  She didn’t care for ships. Opening her eyes, she tried to concentrate on what was around her. Instead, blackness pressed down on her. She tried to move, but couldn’t. Her hands were behind her, her fingers tingling.

  Bound.

  She moved her feet and relief flooded through her at the fact her legs were at least mobile.

  Where was she? What the hell had happened?

  What did she remember?

  Think.

  Think.

  Think.

  The last thing she remembered was…was…

  Dancing.

  With Saker. His dark black eyes glaring down at her, a muscle ticking in his jaw…

  The music pumped through the air. She remembered…

  Wanting him.

  No, needing him.

  An image of them entwined, his arm muscles tight and corded on either side of her as he pumped into her rose into her mind.

  No.

  No.

  She did not fuck a man on a stage in a room full of people.

  Did she?

  Pain beat in her head, but focusing she realized she was lying on soft, silky sheets.

  What was she doing at the club in the first place?

  The Collector.

  Her heartbeat slammed in her chest.

  The Collector.

  She needed to stay calm. The worst thing, she wouldn’t get out of this. Best thing, she could at least free Oleana.

  She closed her mind to all but her friend. She’d tried the exercise for days, but had gotten nothing but disjointed images. It was something they’d learned at the Academy.

  Focus and you’ll find your target. Or the victim. Link with one, you might find the other. Find more.

  If she could do that, maybe she could link her mind with Saker.

  She froze. Saker?

  No, Erik. She’d meant Erik.

  No. Saker.

  The lights, shimmering, dancing. The mating glow.

  No. No. Hellfire! Could it be? For a moment, all she could think about was those stupid lights, periwinkle and pink shimmering around them as they’d—damn—bonded.

  She was bound to Saker.

  She was bound to a fucking falcon!

  Reen sat up, glad for the hundred plus crunches she did religiously. How? How the hell could she be so…so…so…

  She closed her eyes as the room spun.

  She’d been mated to a falcon once before, but she hadn’t really remembered Rourik. All she remembered about him was…

  Was…

  She frowned and tried to recall the young man she’d only met once who had acted as if she was beneath him.

  But who was he? What color was his hair? His eyes? She tried to recall.

  White-blond hair that had brushed the top of his collar.

  Anger and confusion slithered around her stomach. Blond hair. And that arrogant tilt of his lips. How could she forget?

  No. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t.

  Saker. She’d mated with Saker. Rourik had been her betrothed. Just because they had the same smirk and hair and saker meant falcon didn’t mean they were the same.

  Maybe they just knew each other, or something.

  White-blond hair.

  “I’m an idiot.”

  Saker.

  Forget it. She slammed down the walls in her mind, anger beating back the fear. She had a mission to do, and she’d do it if it killed her. She’d kick his ass later, whoever he was.

  Her muscles limber and stretched, she worked her body until she sat on her hands and slowly wiggled through the loop her arms made. It wasn’t easy. It had been years since she’d done that stunt.

  Panting, she nibbled at her bindings, pissed that her knife was missing from her thigh.

  Who took it?

  The Collector? Who the hell was the bastard? Had he watched her all evening? Was he a patron? Or did he work at the club?

  Taking a deep breath, she imagined Oleana in her mind. Imagined her friend laughing.

  But as usual, it seemed to take too long to connect to her friend.

  And then the images were in black and white. Black and white, the room strangely dark, but lit. As if seeing at night.

  Then Reen knew…

  Oleana was shifted.

  Knowing that, and rebuking herself for not realizing it sooner, she focused, and tried to find her friend the albino tiger.

  Pain pulsed through her body.

  Tired…so tired…

  There was only a partial view of the room. From low. The rug was expensive. The far wall, a classical painting hung, the gilded frame, seemingly heavy. The chairs had been shredded.

  Come on, come on, look around. Tell me where you are…

  “Reen… Go… Leave. Don’t come here. He’ll keep you. Hurt you…”

  “Hurts so bad. I hurt.”

  Waves of intense pain crashed through her body.

  Reen gritted her teeth, tears pricking her eyes. “Hang on. Please, hang on, Leana.”

  “I just wish he’d kill me already, Reen. Tell Mom I love her.”

  “No. No. Hang on. You hang on. I can’t lose you.”

  She wouldn’t lose another person she loved. She’d lost everyone else.

  Reen worked on the ties that bound her wrists. Leather. Why couldn’t the bastard have used rope or tape? Hell, even fishing twine. But no, he’d used leather and she couldn’t get it.

  “Where are you?”

  She stopped, listened. The only sound was her panting breath. She looked around the darkened room and wondered where she was.

  Again she glanced up.

  “Cyzarine, where are you?”

  She ignored the voice, not Leana’s, and carefully stood, the pain in her head a dull throb now. She walked towards the window, but stopped when she realized something was in her way. It was so dark she could barely see. The faint light from the window told her where the window was located. But the rest was completely black. And cold.

  She tried to move again and ran into a slim something. Shoving with her toe, she knew it was connected to the floor. She felt out in front of her, followed the smooth metal rod from in front of her up as far as she could reach. Then she ran her hands down until she met the hardwood floor.

  Her heart fluttered in her chest.

  She moved a few feet to her right and felt another one. And another one. Every foot there was a bar that ran up higher than she could reach. She made her way slowly around the entire room. Or what she could of it. She realized then that the bed was in the center. The window was beyond her re
ach. And every two feet or so, there was a horizontal bar. What the hell.

  Then she knew.

  A cage…

  She trembled, shivered and sat on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest.

  No. No. No.

  No cages.

  Everyone knew that firebirds couldn’t be caged.

  They weakened.

  They died.

  I hurt…

  Chapter 10

  Kladovik stood in the hallway and listened. He smiled. He could hear her, shuffling about inside. Trying to get away? Trying to learn where she was?

  Wouldn’t she just love his surprise for her? He made certain all his pretties had the best accommodations, perfectly suited for each one’s particular needs.

  In the case of most felines, he found dungeons, damp and dank often did the trick. For lycans, he preferred light, lots and lots of light. Avians—well, for them, cages for many. Sometimes mere separation from their mates. Clipped wings also worked wonders.

  He smiled and popped his knuckles.

  This was going to be such fun. He’d never had a firebird before. He glanced over his shoulder to the golden eagle screaming for all eternity. She’d been beautiful in both forms. A solid white eagle, but he’d clipped her wings and she couldn’t fly away.

  She’d never flown away.

  And neither would his firebird.

  Reen. Cyzarine? From the fabled massacre in the Laru woods? Royalty on top of rarity.

  He stopped in front of a tall mirror that hung from his high ceiling almost to the floor. He pressed the button hidden in the frame and waited. The mirror went dark, then lit from behind. And he could see her.

  Sitting in the dark.

  He took a deep breath and even through the wall could smell her fear. There was just something about knowing a beautiful woman was afraid. Not just worried, but afraid, bone deep fear. It was even a headier feeling to know that he caused that fear.

  When the fear turned to terror…

  He took another deep breath and watched her. She shoved a dark strand of hair behind her small ear.

  “Untied our self did we?” he asked, rubbing his jaw. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Not surprised at all.”