Chosen Mate

by L. J. Red

  He had taken to restlessly pacing the perimeter of the lodge over and over, always returning to his cabin, focusing his enhanced hearing until he heard her heartbeat from outside, afraid to enter, not trusting his self-control.

  The door to the back rooms opened, and Neal recognized May’s diminutive form exiting, wrapped in that ridiculous green coat. He pressed himself back against the wall and stilled, pulling the shadows around him until he was just another patch of darkness in the night. She glanced around herself, looking in his direction for a second. He knew her human eyes would never pick him out of the darkness, but for a moment it was like she was looking straight at him, straight into his very soul.

  He tracked her as she moved towards their cabin, moving closer and closer, despite himself desperate to catch a whiff of her scent or to hear the sound of her heartbeat, watching the puff of smoke that her breath made in the cold night air.

  She hesitated at the door to the cabin, and Neal couldn’t help himself from continuing forward, padding on soft, silent feet towards her back.

  He should send her away. Send her back to Chicago where she would be safe from him, but he couldn’t do it, even just thinking it made him growl softly with anger.

  May spun around, hearing him, and her eyes widened. He was so close he could see the strands of gold in her hazel eyes. He wanted to catch her up and press her against him. He stepped closer, his massive bulk blocking out the light and casting her into shadow.

  The fear scent on the air was faint, fading away as she recognized him. He’d startled her. He took another step closer, expecting the fear to come again, but unable to stay away. But it didn’t come. There was no fear in her clear, enticing scent. Neal shuddered with desire, pressing closer as her eyes traveled over his body, growing smoky and dark with arousal. Her body desired him—he saw it painted on her skin.

  Did she feel what he felt? Did she ache for his touch like he ached for hers? He remembered the soft, silk of her skin under his hands, the taste under his lips as he kissed his way up her neck. But that hadn’t been real, that had been in the dream, that strange dream that had twisted and turned into something dark and terrifying, that had sent him into the darkness of his memories, the cries of pain, the weakness of his blood drained from his veins. Flames, burning, the scent of roses. Running through the halls, searching and searching.

  Neal took a half step back, feeling like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be in love with May. He had offered his heart centuries ago. He had tried to love a human woman. He had thought he could place love over his duty to the Shadows. He had been wrong, and it had cost her life and his heart. There was nothing but a burnt husk left where his emotions should be. Whatever he thought he felt for May, it had to be a mistake.

  He had been standing staring at her for too long, and slowly, not wanting to startle her, he gripped the door handle. “We should go inside,” he said. “The night is cold, and you are only human.” He didn’t mean it is an insult, merely a statement of fact, but her eyes flashed. He had offended her again. Before he could attempt some stumbling apology, he caught the scent of gunmetal, of human sweat and underneath that, hate and danger. Neal’s snapped his arm out and barred May’s way into the cabin.

  “I thought you wanted me to go inside?”

  He shook his head. “There is something inside the cabin. Danger. I can sense it.”

  He pulled May back, then slowly pushed the door fully open, his warrior senses alert, his muscles tensing in anticipation.

  Chapter 11

  The cabin had been trashed. The couch was thrown onto its side. Their possessions were strewn all around the place. Broken glass and clothes on the floor, and feathers from a shredded pillow drifting through the air.

  Neal advanced slowly and warily; his hunting instinct honed to a sharp edge. Despite the mess, his sharp eyes picked out a half-footprint of snow and dirt at the bottom of the stairs and he dropped instantly into a crouch. A bullet whistled over his head and thudded into the wooden wall. Neal looked up. There was a human crouched on the mezzanine, a gun between his hands. Neal launched himself to the side as the human fired again, tearing straight through his shoulder, but missing his heart.

  What the fuck was a human doing in his cabin? Not just any human, a hunter. Unbidden, memories of capture, of overwhelming numbers, of hunters with arrows and sharp blades cascaded through Neal’s mind. He roared in anger and launched himself up, avoiding the stairs entirely and leaping directly up over the banister. He rushed the human, catching him before he fired off another shot and spun him around, slamming him back against the stairs.

  The human rolled down the stairs in a clatter of limbs. Neal ignored the pain in his shoulder and leaped after him, but the hunter recovered faster than Neal expected, and, still holding his gun, brought it round to shakily aim. Neal twisted to the side, throwing himself so hard into the banister that one of the posts cracked under the impact. The bullet grazed his leg, opening a hot line of fire against Neal’s flesh. Neal snarled, ignoring both wounds and dragged himself upright. The human, meanwhile, had scrambled to his feet and was running to the door. To May.

  Terror and rage consumed Neal. “No,” he shouted, and leaped across the cabin, landing on the human’s back, bearing him down to the ground and raking him with nails sharpened to claws. Blood flew from the wounds, spraying across Neal’s face. He flipped the human over, going straight for the gun. He gripped the man’s hand tight enough that he felt his bones crack, and ripped the weapon away, flinging it into the corner of the room. He reared up, the human pinned beneath him, his eyes wide and terrified. Neal’s felt his blood pumping hard, escaping from his wound, and soaking into his jacket and down his side. The wound had come from a wooden bullet, slow to heal. This man had come ready to hunt vampires. His rage peaked—this man had broken into his territory, attacked him, placed May in danger. Neal’s eyes flashed with a violent light and he stretched out his hands and gripped the man’s head, squeezing tightly and then wrenching it to the side. He felt the wrenching tear as the man’s neck snapped under his grip and he grew still.

  Neal breathed deep, his killing rage still simmering under his skin, the adrenaline from them fight still riding him. The scent of blood stained the air. He raised his head and caught May’s wide, terrified eyes. Shit. He looked down at himself. He was covered in blood and he had just slaughtered human in front of her. It didn’t matter that it was a hunter, hell-bent on killing him. He had just shown her violence, pure violence like she’d never seen before. God what must she think of him? He dragged himself to his feet, avoiding her eyes. He needed, he needed to think, he needed to draw back from his killing rage.

  He expected her to run, but to his shock, she came forwards instead. Giving the man’s corpse a wide berth, she walked right up to him, and it wasn’t fear he saw in her eyes, but concern.

  “Are you hurt?” she said.

  How could she care for him? He was a monster to her, but he melted under the look in her eyes. She transferred her attention to his arm, wincing at the deep wound in his flesh. “You need to get this off,” she said, reaching for his jacket. He flinched back, unable to bear her concern, and she froze, looking up at him. “Please,” she said, “let me help you.”

  “I will heal, lass,” Neal said, “look.” He directed her attention to his arm where his wounds were already beginning to knit together. May’s eyes grew wide. For all that she worked for vampires, she hadn’t seen the results of an attack before. She was sheltered, innocent, and he hated that he had brought this violence to her. He held himself still under her hands as she pulled his leather jacket from him. The fabric was sticking to the wound. “I think it’s ruined,” she said, and she looked unhappy at that.

  “It’s just a jacket,” he said. Barely noticing the pain of his wounds, distracted by her eyes, the downturn of her lips.

  “Yeah,” May said, “it’s just… it suits you.” And t
hen she blushed, as if she hadn’t meant to say it. He was fascinated by the sight of her blush. The red flush under her skin. He heard the blood rushing in her veins. As if thinking about blood had been the signal his body needed. Suddenly he was all too aware how close she was, how easy it would be to press his face to her skin and bite down. She touched him again and his arm shuddered underneath her fingers. It was all he could do to control himself from turning and snatching her up. The fire of the fight was still pounding through his veins. She wasn’t safe with him.

  “You need to get back,” he growled. “You have to stop,” he said, his voice raw. He caught her eyes. “I can’t control myself,” he said, “I want…”

  May’s eyes darkened, and seeming not to realize what she was doing, she swayed towards him, her breath escaping her lips in a sigh.

  Oh God, his control was shot. He couldn’t stop, and when she raised her head towards his, he took what she was offering, pressing his mouth to hers and catching her lips in a kiss.

  It was perfect, it was everything he wanted, everything he’d needed. The fire running through him from the fight turned molten and he turned toward her, curling his body protectively around hers. She tasted so good. He coaxed her to open to him, gently urging with his lips, his tongue. Her kiss, innocent and gentle at first, grew gradually hotter as the desire within them rose. He let his fingers plunge into her luxurious hair, reveling in the feel of the silky strands. The kiss turned hot and heavy. He tightened his grip, pressing her into him and consuming her moans. She arched up unto him, her breasts pressing against his chest. Fuck, she was practically rubbing herself against him. He wanted to drown in her, to peel the clothes from her body and worship every inch of her skin. But as that image shone in his mind, he suddenly realized they weren’t alone.

  He felt Talon’s presence through the threads of the Bloodline bond.

  Neal released May’s lips and hunched over her body protectively. Talon watched him warily from the doorway, not entering into Neal’s territory. Not making any move forwards, any sign of threat. Then, very slowly, he looked down at the dead human, then back to Neal.

  The dead human. Fuck. What the hell was Neal thinking, losing himself in May with a dead body on the floor beside them? He forced himself to step away from her, as he did so she made a soft moan of loss, and he had to lock his muscles to stop himself from leaping up and dragging her away, taking her up to the bed directly.

  There was a dead body on the ground. He needed to get his shit together and shake off this haze of lust. Neal took another step, turning away from May so he couldn’t see the desire in her eyes.

  “Go check the other cabins,” he told Talon, reaching within himself and pulling on the thread that connected him to Rune. Over Talon’s shoulder, he could see other vampires exiting their cabins, coming closer to see what the commotion was. He needed to deal with them. Needed to secure the lodge. More than that, he needed to know why there was a hunter in his cabin. In his fucking territory. A spark of rage lodged deep within his chest.

  Talon didn’t move. “Who did this?” he snarled, and Neal realized the rage he felt was echoing along the Bloodline bond. Fuck. Talon was starting to rise to the edge of violence. He needed to stop this, to bring them both down to calm, but he couldn’t fucking do it. He was raw with anger at the attack, still reeling from the kiss, unsteady.

  Rune arrived, melting out of the darkness, his pale face and golden hair haloed in the light. The raised edge of his scar followed his furrowed brows.

  “What happened?” he demanded, and Neal saw the same rage in Talon reflected in Rune’s eyes. Any attack against Neal was an attack against the Shadows. They were taking this really fucking personally.

  “It was a hunter,” Neal said. He crouched down beside the body. Now that the fight was over, he could take in the human’s all-black attire, matte and non-reflective, assassin’s gear. He pulled open the man’s jacket, searching the inner pocket until he found what he was looking for, a black card with HUNT stamped on it. The arrogant fuckers left a fucking calling card.

  “How the hell did HUNT find us here?” Talon said from the doorway.

  There was only one way. They had to have inside help. His anger climbed and filled him, sweet like water to a dying man. Overwhelming his walls, drowning him in rage. “We need to get rid of the body.” No way was he leaving a dead body in here with her. He gestured for Talon to enter the cabin, keeping a watchful eye on him as he slowly crossed the threshold and walked in, picking up the body and slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll leave it in one of the empty cabins. They’re cold enough, and Finlay will want a look.”

  “Good,” Neal said, stiffly. He was having trouble focusing on anything but vengeance. There was only one thing he wanted. Only one person who needed to answer for this attack. “When you’re done, sweep the perimeter. Make sure there are no more of these bastards lying in wait.” Talon nodded, moving past Rune, out into the darkness.

  “May!”

  Neal snapped his head up at the voice calling her name. A young, red-headed vassal gave Talon a wide berth and rushed up to the door, hesitating on the threshold. May stepped up beside Neal.

  “Ivy,” she smiled, and she moved to step past him. Neal blocked her. “It’s okay,” May said.

  “You’re not leaving,” he said, brooking no argument.

  “I’ll stay here with her,” the red-head said, moving hesitantly forwards.

  Neal watched the way May’s smile brightened at that, and he stepped back. Yes, better she was with humans now. What he had to do was nothing a human needed to see.

  There was only one person who had a vendetta against the Shadows. Only one vampire power-hungry enough to volunteer their location to hunters. It had to be Roman. There was no one else. Neal had had enough.

  Neal turned to Rune. “I want guards at the door,” he said, “nobody goes anywhere without an escort, and get eyes on every Radiance vampire in this fucking place.” He shoved past him.

  “Wait,” May called, coming after him. “Where are you going?”

  Neal faced her, he had no idea what to say, but she read his intention from his grim face, and her eyes widened.

  “No, don’t go,” May clutched his arm. “Whatever you’re about to do. You’re still hurt, the bullets—they were wood, weren’t they?”

  He shook her off. “It doesn’t matter, I’m strong enough for this.” He caught Rune’s eye. “No one out, no one in,” he said.

  “Brother, wait—” Rune started, but Neal ignored him, turning his back on them all.

  He felt May’s fear and anguish in his chest, he felt the bond that tied them together pulling back on him, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t stay. Roman had attacked the Shadows, and he had to pay.

  Chapter 12

  Isabella shrank back against a stray pine next to one of the smaller cabins. She watched Neal walk across the snowy ground, alive. A wave of relief crashed over her. She had for a moment been terribly afraid that the hunter would kill him. Another part of her was glad to see the blood on his jacket. She might not want him dead, but she wanted him to hurt. To suffer, just like she had suffered. She crawled back and pressed herself against the wall.

  She had thought she had the perfect plan. The stupid human woman must have hidden the key in Neal’s cabin. All she needed to do was send one of the humans to break in while Neal was at the Conclave and the human woman was doing whatever it was human servants occupied their nights with. But it had all gone wrong. That useless human had stayed in there too long. Now he was dead, and her time was running out. The night was almost over and she hadn’t found the fucking key. At this rate, she would be better off finding an ax and hacking through the thick basement door by hand.

  Worse than her failure and the punishment Roman would deal out was that she had had to watch Neal and the human clutching at each other. That woman rubbing herself against Neal! Isabella snarled. Neal belonged to her, and that human would pay for the trouble she
was causing. Isabella twisted around to look at the cabin. The pale Shadow warrior was standing guard at the door, and just then, his cold gaze swung around towards her. Isabella ducked back, and scurried quickly away from the cabin, back toward the trees. Next time, she swore. Next time she would not fail.

  Chapter 13

  Neal slammed Roman against the wall, making the windows shake.

  “I know it was you,” he said.

  Roman bared his teeth and Neal imagined shoving his fist right through that skeletal face. He wanted to murder him for what he had done.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You can’t do this to a Circle Elder.”

  “Put him down.”

  Voices behind Neal clamored for him to stop, to step back, but he was in a blind rage. He couldn’t think straight. All he wanted to do was make Roman pay for putting May in danger. The overwhelming fire of anger within him was unstoppable. He had only ever experienced rage such as this once before in his life, and even that paled in comparison to the burning anger he felt now. The last time he thought he’d lost someone had almost broken him. The thought of losing May now sent him reeling into madness.

  His fangs were out. He was going to rip Roman apart. He reared back, ready to strike. Roman shoved ineffectually against him, but even a Circle Elder was no match for one of the Shadows, fully enraged. But before he could attack him, he was thrown backward. He roared and turned on the vampire who had pulled him away from his righteous kill. It was Talon, and recognition slowed Neal’s lunge just enough for Talon to get between them again.

  “Stop this, brother,” Talon said. “You must stop. You can’t just kill him. Believe me, I know you want to.” He glared over Neal’s shoulder at Roman, but tightened his grip on Neal’s arms. “But you can’t. Look at where we are. Look around you.” He shook Neal’s body. “What are you doing?” he said, “I thought I was the one with no control.”