Mind? Yes. Would he refuse? Not specifically…. Drooping as he sighed, Trace replied, “Yes, but I will answer a few questions—to allay Jason’s and your concerns. But please understand what caused this is in my past, and I want it to stay there. Please.”
“Agreed.”
Trace turned, not bothering to hide his back as he led the way to the couch and chairs. The gasp that followed him wasn’t encouraging; neither was the hissing growl that followed. When he turned around and sat, he faced a pissed-off looking Keith, though thankfully he still appeared nearly all human. As impressive as Keith’s Chosen of Baast form was, Trace really didn’t want him going all super Alpha or Alpha King in his living room.
“That had better have been part of you when you first arrived here, Trace,” Keith rumbled, his words slightly slurred as he spoke around his fangs. Top and bottom had come out, it seemed, in his agitated state.
Unable to meet Keith’s gaze, Trace nodded. “It’s part of why I was chosen to be your representative. Why even when they realized how flawed your training was at the hands of your previous alpha, I was left in place instead of them sending in someone specifically trained as a teacher of the alphas and of the old ways.”
“I don’t understand. The intertribal council sent me a rep and a trainer based on the fact he was abused, not based on qualifications?”
That made Trace’s fur bristle even if it wasn’t out. “No,” he snapped. “I’m fully qualified, thank you oh so very fucking much. Have I let you down, or failed you or the Glacier Rim Tribe in any way since I arrived?”
“No, you have not.”
“Then don’t judge me based on what you saw on my back.” Trace closed his eyes and prayed to Baast for patience, and that Keith could understand without his having to go into any real detail. Trace was positive he couldn’t handle that. “I was selected because they thought it would give me a clean slate. Let me have a chance at a fresh start where no one would look at me with pity for what I’d been through. Where, in their infinite ignorance, they thought I might find a new mate and still have a chance for a family of my own. Since you’re gay, you wouldn’t have an issue with me being gay. And this being Seattle, I would be away from those who knew my past and those from it.”
“And how you came by those scars, I take it.”
It should have been a question, but it wasn’t. Trace still replied, “Yes, that too. They are what they are, and as you well know, they won’t fade any more than they have.”
“You should have died with how bad they are, Trace. Most would have.”
He knew that too. Had it not been for who gave them to him and how, he would have. The only reason he’d physically survived, other than having been rescued, was thanks to his mate using his blood to help him heal enough to live. Not that Trace wanted to by the end. All Trace could manage was a nod.
“I won’t make you tell me the story, but I do have some questions. If they are that old, then there’s nothing to be done for them, sadly. I still want to know the health and condition of all my cats, though. And while you technically belong to the council, you are still one of mine.”
“I—” Trace cut himself off, knowing it was pointless to argue. Keith was his alpha—plus it was somewhat nice to know his alpha was looking out for him, even if he’d never wanted his new tribe, his new friends, to know of his past. And really, answering questions wasn’t too bad, he hoped. “Yes, sir.” Trace stood and took a deep breath. He let it out slowly as he stepped closer to Keith before he turned and presented his back to his alpha. “As you can see, they aren’t new, so you have nothing to worry about.” He stood tall until he felt the lightest of touches where Keith followed the marks down Trace’s back. Trace nearly crumpled when Keith touched the bite on the back of his shoulder and growled, the strange hiss and rumble that only happened when Keith was in his Chosen form. He knew if he turned, he would see Keith’s face, but wider and with short hair that matched his lynx fur, his Technicolor-blue eyes would nearly glow, and he would be larger, wider, stronger… but still Keith. And Trace would have to fight his lynx even harder to stay still under Alpha Keith’s inspection—no cat wanted its back to such a powerful being.
“Is this one still alive?” Keith asked as he again traced the bite.
“N-no,” Trace whispered. “Duncan and his guards tended to….” Trace couldn’t say his name. Could. Not. Do it. Even after all this time, it was beyond him. Sadly, his dreams still conjured the monster, his last ex, from time to time. He was certain later that night would be one of those times, unfortunately.
“Good. He doesn’t deserve to live for what he did to you.”
“It’s over, so please….” Please drop it.
Keith continued to grumble for another minute or three, but finally allowed Trace to return to his chair and did the same after returning to his fully human form—his clothes a bit overstressed from the partial shift, but not completely destroyed. Trace had no desire to explain that to Jason. When Trace met Keith’s gaze, he was startled to see not pity, but concern and remorse. “I must apologize, Trace. I should not have touched the marks, especially the mating bite. That is what the one on your shoulder is, right?”
He tried to speak but couldn’t manage anything more than a squeak.
“That was thoughtless of me. I was upset at seeing what someone had done to you and didn’t think about what my touch might do. Please forgive me.”
“Nothing to forgive, sir.”
“There is, but I won’t push you. I’ve done too much of that already in my overzealous need to protect. For now I will smooth things over with Jason and the others for you, as we can all empathize with the concept of an abusive situation.”
Trace nodded, unable to vocalize his response. He’d once believed Ford loved him. Oh, how wrong he’d been. He had to lose nearly everything, his life included, to see that. It was one of the reasons he quietly donated to the domestic abuse centers in Seattle and why he pushed for gay and lesbian domestic violence advocacy. If only he’d never….
“Hey, Trace.”
“Huh?” What did Keith want, and why the strange tone of voice?
“Don’t go there in your head. I’ve seen it before, so don’t look at me with that incredulous face. You were doing the ‘if only’ routine in your head. You want to live your life, then stop doing that and move forward. You can’t undo the past, but you can choose not to let it taint your future.”
“What would you know about it? No one ever did that to you. You never let anyone…,” Trace choked out, hating that he was discussing this, but now that they were talking, he needed to talk some. Insane but true.
“No, but I’ve had friends who did. One that we fought hard to get him to see what was happening, to see that the guy he was head over heels in love with was abusive, manipulative, and a lying, cheating asshole.” Keith turned away as he continued, “Taylor can tell you about Flynn sometime.”
“I’ve not heard that name before.”
“You’re not likely to. He was human. One of our few mutual human friends. He didn’t make it out. I’m glad you did.”
Trace gasped as his stomach both knotted and flipped. “Oh Goddess. He didn’t? The guy he was with—”
“Is serving a not nearly long enough sentence in prison right now for murder. When I said I understood and empathized, I do.”
Chapter Four
TRACE LOOKED around the club and wondered, again, what had possessed him to tell Jason that yes, he would babysit the humans. Of course he was sure they would be less than amused with that description, but realistically, that’s why he was there. Not that he knew why they needed a chaperone in the first place. Well, he had concerns about what he’d felt and scented in the forest, but the rest of the tribe didn’t feel the same, so Jason asking for the guard duty seemed overkill. But as the alpha mate, he knew about things that even Trace didn’t at times, so he went along with the “request.”
The two women and one man wanted t
o go out dancing to celebrate something or another. The only human in the tribe he wasn’t taking out with them was Jason. He hadn’t paid much attention to the why, as he honestly didn’t care—Trace’d figured out early on it was just an excuse to go drink and dance. None of their partners wanted to go, or so he’d been told. But Jason asked, so he said yes.
It was the third time in the last month Jason had done this to him. The only time the humans seemed to want to have these inane outings happened to be when their mates weren’t available.
At the one before last, Lethe, one of the human mates, had gotten a bit on the tipsy side and decided to hang all over Trace about the time Trace decided it was time to take them all back to the tribe lands. Unfortunately that was when Lethe had caused a slight detour and ran the two of them straight into Prince Sasha. As if taking home a drunk human who smelled of Trace—far too much for his mate’s comfort, and damn, was she prone to hissing!—wasn’t bad enough, he also had to deal with his stupid hormones going crazy. The entire time Sasha had stood there, Trace’s lynx had prowled below the surface, demanding they go claim their so not a mate.
But now the bass from the speakers strategically placed around the club beat just under his skin, making his skin crawl instead of driving him out to the masses to dance. He’d loved to writhe and dance once, but it had been many a year since he felt safe enough to manage that. Now the press of bodies, the miasma of hormones, alcohol, and sex bruised his heart and stabbed at his senses. Too much perfume and cologne turned his stomach as well.
“Come on out and dance with us,” Mandy said as she slithered off the dance floor and wrapped her arms around Trace’s neck. He knew she was completely human, but the way she moved, seemingly without bones at times, often made him wonder if there weren’t a touch of lynx in her family tree somewhere.
“I can’t very well watch out for you if I’m on the dance floor with you, Mandy, my love,” Trace teased as he steadied her when a large man bumped into her from behind. Out there being rubbed up against by who knew how many strangers? No! Not again in this lifetime.
She pouted prettily. “But Trace, you’d look so hot out there dancing with us. Carla and I would protect your virtue.” He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, waiting. Her only response was a throaty giggle.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not my virtue I’m worried about, love. Though if you come home smelling too much like me, your husband might be a touch miffed. Go have fun, just not too much.” He turned her around and nudged her back toward the writhing horde, which quickly swallowed her up. Even with all the humans, Trace could easily still track her and the other two he was there to guard.
Trace shook his head and smiled. As much as he disliked the duty and the environment he found himself in, he did enjoy the company of the others in the tribe, be they lynx or the rare human. It was good to have a family again, one that didn’t look at him with pity—even Keith hadn’t changed his attitude or tone toward Trace in their few interactions over the last couple of days. Jason still seemed torn about the scars on Trace’s back, though he hadn’t asked. The slight staring and the aborted questions were enough to tell Trace that Keith had told Jason not to ask, but he had also, apparently, not told Jason what they were from, much to Trace’s relief. He didn’t want his new friends to look at him differently, nor did he want it getting back to Sasha, and he was certain if Jason were to learn the truth, Sasha would know immediately as well. No way would Jason think not to share that knowledge with his best friend, especially since he had it in his insane head the two of them “belonged together,” usually with a stupid sigh following directly after the pronouncement. It wasn’t that Jason was a maudlin teen, but he was ever hopeful on behalf of his friend.
As Trace made his way through the crowd toward the bar, hoping he could manage to get a drink without getting groped too many times by male hands—seriously, it wasn’t even a gay club!—his thoughts and attention were suddenly arrested by the scent of vampire. Only the fact he was in Seattle stopped him from immediately grabbing his charges and demanding they leave. Still, knowing Prince Sasha didn’t allow his members to harm humans or to attack shifters without due cause didn’t mean all vampires were safe. What if it was a vamp from outside the Seattle area, or someone who didn’t like Sasha’s rules? No way would he allow anyone to harm his charges!
Detouring from his intended target, Trace circled the room, looking for the vampire in question. No, the vampires—plural—as, once he managed to back out of the crush of bodies, Trace quickly realized there were two distinct vampire scents. Both made his nose twitch and his fur bristle under his skin; there was something nasty at the core of them, though he couldn’t put his finger on what. Trace was reaching for his phone when hands slammed against his wrists, trapping them against his sides.
“Wouldn’t be doing that if I were you, kitty cat,” purred a husky male voice behind him.
Dammit! The vampire had gotten behind him. “Release me now. Prince Sasha won’t stand for any hostilities between our peoples, and you know it.”
The voice that came next shocked Trace as much as it fascinated, sounding light and airy yet somehow decidedly cruel at the same time. “Aligning with filth such as you? Shameful. And to think his family was once so great. It will be again once we fix this teeny-tiny oversight so he can be bound to Tatiana. But you will have to go.” She sounded almost sad at the end, not that any of what she said made sense.
Trace stiffened as he processed the rest of the words. Sasha couldn’t be bound to anyone else, much less some hussy vampire named Tatiana! “You’re wrong.”
“Nope. Papa has had Sasha under surveillance for a while now. Nevertheless, we’re to get rid of you and this inane treaty with the filthy animals. So….” The vampire wrenched Trace’s arms behind him, and he found himself forcibly led out the back of the club and into the dingy alley.
There was a couple down past the dumpster enjoying each other’s company, though they didn’t stay long after the female vampire left to chase them off. “Now,” she said as she sauntered back. “Where were we?”
“You two were going to let me go and return to your papa without having harmed anyone here.”
She chuckled, as did the male still holding Trace in a viselike grip. Dammit! Why did he have to be a trainer and a diplomat type—not that his years as either were coming to use right then—instead of a warrior? Trace continued to struggle, but a single shifter, unskilled in combat against a vampire, had no real chance.
“Why does your papa care who Prince Sasha marries? And who’s your papa?” Really, if he’s ordering my death, can’t I at least know who beforehand?
“Why wouldn’t he care about who his nephew marries?” The female shrugged. “Now you have to go, so be a good kitty.”
“Please don’t do this.” He didn’t want to beg, but he didn’t want Sasha hurt, and this would hurt Sasha. He knew it would as sure as he knew his own name, even if he refused to acknowledge part of that pain would be from Trace’s death, not just from the war this could bring.
“It’s nothing personal, kitty-cat boy. Papa just said to kill you first,” she said and shrugged, then grasped his head. She pulled his head forward only a moment before Trace felt fangs rip into the flesh of his neck. It wasn’t the neat slide like in the movies of the current era, but the violent rending of flesh as in the old horror films, the ones meant to scare the audience and cause blood to flow in vast amounts.
By all the Gods, it hurt! Baast, please, it hurts…. If he were to die here, he wished he could have seen Sasha once more. To have seen his smile and heard that sultry, carefree laugh of his.
Trace tried to shift, not caring if a human might come out the back door and see him, but he couldn’t focus enough to release his lynx. He fought the vampire’s grip, but that too was a lost cause. He couldn’t bring himself to give up, though, even though his cat couldn’t get out and he couldn’t get free.
As the world darkened
around the edges, he could have sworn he heard Sasha yell his name, but the black swallowed him before he could find a way to tell him it would be okay.
“AGAIN, WHY am I accompanying you out to a club, Jalin?” Sasha asked as he pulled his Hellcat out of his reserved parking spot at the hospital. He looked to his left and noted Summer and Dimka were already in their SUV and ready, as always, to follow along. It was still odd to have them back full-time as his guards after all the years he’d had them taking turns guarding Jason. During that time, he’d only traveled with one of them at any given time, sometimes accompanied by one of their fighters. Still, going to a human club was something they deemed worthy of their watchful eyes.
“Because you need to do more than run the coven and the hospital. You need to do something fun.”
“And watching you dance will be fun for me how?” he teased.
“It will get you out without any real responsibility. It’s a human club, so no politics required. And you can even heckle me if you really must,” Jalin added, sounding a touch put-upon, though Sasha knew he was no such thing. Jalin, in all their years together as servant and served, had never asked Sasha to accompany him somewhere that wasn’t appropriate to his station. Sasha knew it was out of concern for him that Jalin did so now. The truth of that worry touched him even as it annoyed him—Jalin should not waste his personal time off trying to cheer Sasha up! That was time for his own life, for his own making, for carving out a family and relaxing and whatever it was Jalin did in his free time.
“But what will it get you? It’s your night off,” Sasha countered. He wanted to go home and not deal with people. Well, what he really wanted wasn’t what was best for him, so that was off the list of choices, so home to read and listen to music, or maybe watch a movie. Were there any good ones out he hadn’t already seen?
Fangs with a Heart Page 4