The Vampire Went Down to Georgia

by Selene Charles

  “But we’d kill each other.”

  “Likely so.” He smirked. “But it’d be a helluva way to go.”

  “But our blood...”

  He took my hand in his, and though he’d just confessed to loving me, which I seriously couldn’t believe, I loved his touch. I always had.

  “Isn’t the impediment you believe it is. And I’ll just leave it at that for now. The only real impediment is that I’m not capable of wanting just one thing. That’s not the fae way. We love ‘em all, little flower.”

  He tweaked my nose and winked.

  “You love me?” I said, still sounding stunned.

  He tipped his head back and laughed. “Gods above, if I’d known that declaring my heart to you would make you this tongue tied, I’d have done it years ago. For the last time, yes. Madly. Wildly. I want to strip you down and make desperate monkey love to you. I want to taste you and let you taste me. I want—”

  My cheeks flamed, and I covered his mouth, glancing over at Steven, who thankfully was too lost in his own world to hear the scandalous things Blue was saying.

  He smirked and bit my fingers but didn’t push it further.

  I lowered my hand. “I think I’ve got it. But I have to ask, and maybe this is none of my business, but... Gareth?”

  Blue groaned and rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Don’t.”

  I shrugged.

  He sighed. “Yes. Okay, I’m fucking desperate for him too. But the thing is, I can’t. Not with him. That damn mating thing they do? Hell no. Not for me. Gareth knows where I stand on that.”

  “He’s miserable, Blue. I don’t think you understand how hard it is on them when they imprint and can’t—”

  “It’s so complicated between him and me, little Scar.”

  “I’m pretty sure I could follow.”

  The smile slipped off his face as he said, “No, my dear, I don’t think you could. Not yet. Though you will, soon enough.”

  I frowned, but he tutted and patted my thigh.

  “Don’t overcomplicate things between him and me, Scarlett. Trust me. He’s better off without me.”

  “You shouldn’t say that.”

  “Oh, but I must, sweetheart. I must. Now, we could keep talking, or ya know, you could finally see your mate do his thing.”

  I gasped, all words forgotten as I turned back to the orb and watched my own mate begin his dance macabre.

  Mercer

  FROM THE MOMENT HE’D left their den, Mercer had felt off-kilter and angry, although he didn’t know why. His dreams had haunted him throughout the night with vague, wispy images of things he couldn’t remember. In his dreams, he’d had the chilling sensation that everything was fucked, but he just didn’t know it yet.

  Standing in a chamber full of other combatants, dressed down or up as was their way, he mentally prepared himself for the fight that was to come. But his thoughts were as scattered as chaff on the wind. It was impossible to focus because he kept remembering the feeling of impending doom from his dreams. It caused his back and brow to break out in a sweat, leaving him feeling desperate and weak in the knees.

  Staring down at a table laden with an array of deadly weaponry, he tried to breathe through whatever the hell was going on with him. But the panic was like fiery maggots tearing through his insides, refusing to stop long enough for him to regain his composure.

  Something dropped a heavy hand on his back, and without thought, Mercer roared, slapping the hand away and shoving his fists into the thing’s chest.

  The thing—the packs’ weapons master—was tossed like a sack of flour against the wall, eyes going blood red as fur began to rip through his flesh. He jumped to his feet, arms held in a loose boxing stance before him.

  “Not here! Not tonight. Save this sheeyt for the ring!” An old, grizzled shifter with a steel-gray beard that trailed down to his waist stood between them both, holding out his hands and shaking his head.

  Mercer scrubbed a hand down his face hard, understanding that, whatever was happening to him, he didn’t have the luxury of giving in to it. He was a warrior from a currently disgraced pack. His position here was precarious at best, and he couldn’t afford to forget it.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, his beast still too close to the surface. “Goddamn fight’s got me—”

  “I don’t give a shit about your excuses.” The weapons master, who Mercer thought might be named Claudius, dropped his hands but continued to glare unholy fury at him. “I came here to tell you the Campbell’s requested your audience. Now.”

  The grizzled veteran eyed them both one final time before nodding to Claudius and ushering him away from Mercer.

  Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Mercer turned, stalked out of the room, and headed down the hall toward the Campbell’s private chamber. But just as he was about to make the left turn down the hall toward the right wing of the castle, he was grabbed from behind and yanked into another room. The door closed with a boom, locking him in darkness so soupy and dense that all he could see was black.

  Considering his reaction to Claudius earlier, Mercer half expected his beast would commit murder, but he didn’t. In fact, his response confused Mercer entirely. The beast was silent. Wary. Vigilant. But completely quiet.

  Realizing he was in a very deadly situation, he tamped down on his instinct to panic and kill and, instead, reached out with his senses to see what he could glean from the few clues available to him.

  Behind him, something breathed. His skin prickled as he sniffed the air for any clues, but there were none to be had. He stilled and listened but only heard the soft and steady breaths at his back.

  All the fine hairs on his body stood on edge. When there was nothing else left to do, he took one last deep breath and slowly turned around.

  He finally saw what had grabbed him. A soft golden halo of light poured down upon the figure from nowhere, as though she herself had cast its glow. A woman with long hair of flaming Unseelie red stood smirking before him. She was short but bristled with power like one of Tesla’s coils. The hilt of a gleaming silver sword stuck up from the sheath at her back.

  Mercer narrowed his eyes, his skin going clammy as he held up his hands and backed toward the door. “Who the hell are you?”

  There was something about the strangely beautiful woman that seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it. He scented the air again, noting the complete lack of scent from her.

  Even the fae, with their delicate aromas, had a smell about them. Faint, but there. With this female, there was nothing. The air around her was dead. Empty. And that was fucking terrifying because there had only ever been one other being who’d been able to completely mask his scent before.

  That had been Death.

  He sucked in a sharp breath as his vision swam. He was ninety-nine percent positive this had to be War. And if this was War, then Scarlett and Tenebris were in deep shit.

  She grinned, showing off twin baby fangs.

  Instinct warned him that, whether this was War or not, she was still dangerous. Very, very dangerous. One wrong move, and it could all be over for him. He went as still as the beast inside of him.

  “A friend.” Her voice was a husky tenor that shivered over his skin like black ice, making him feel weak and repulsed. “If you’ll let me.”

  She had a strange accent, just like Death had had the few times he’d revealed to Mercer just how truly foreign he was.

  He cocked his head, no longer moving backward, feeling as though his feet were glued to the floor and he was waist-deep in quicksand. He balled his fists tight.

  The beast in him finally began to stir. Warmth began to flow through his veins, and Mercer sensed its full awakening coming on. He frowned, wondering at this sudden turn.

  He opened his mouth to say goddess-only-knew what, but snapped it shut when the dank air finally produced a scent spore—the sharp tang of iron-rich blood, the earthy smell of cured leather, and the mineral-rich scent of Silver Creek dirt that wa
s so much a part of him. He seemed to take the Creek with him wherever he went.

  He grunted, shaking his head.

  The female smirked. “You and I share... a mutual friend. Perhaps it is time for father and son to speak again.”

  She stepped to the side to reveal Clarence moving out of the dense shadows and into the small halo of light. He held his head high and glared down his hawkish nose at Mercer with a hard, judgmental gaze.

  “We have to talk.” Clarence’s deep treble cut through Mercer’s shock, and he snarled, taking a menacing step forward.

  Now you know, though you will soon forget all you’ve seen and heard. And I am sorry, animal, but you are forbidden to hear or see more. Animal is not strong enough for what must come. Only Wolf is.

  And without waiting on Mercer’s permission, the wolf took control of his body, locking him away deep in a hidden corner of his mind where there was nothing but an endless sea of stars and darkness.

  Chapter 12

  Scarlett

  Because of a last-minute technicality, Mercer had been required to wage two fights back to back. And if I thought I’d seen him at his most brutal, I’d been sorely mistaken.

  I’d never seen a man do battle with the ferocity of a berserker rage. There was no mercy in him. My stomach heaved at the extreme violence of what he’d done, things I knew I would never want to remember again. Things, that if given a chance, I would eradicate from my brain forever.

  When his fights were over and he stood upon the tiny mountain of gore, blazing with the lust of glory and victory, I shook my head and told Blue to shut it off.

  Thankfully, Steven had been asleep for a couple hours and hadn’t witnessed the madness of his brother’s slaughter.

  I swallowed hard, not even sure if I should say anything. It wasn’t as though Mercer was the only one killing, but he was the only one laughing about it, brutalizing the corpses, and making even the most grizzled shifters in the audience look sickened by the sheer perverse violence of what he was doing.

  He was so changed in the arena that I hardly knew him. That wasn’t my Mercer. I’d never compared him to an animal in my life. Even when he ran as his wolf, he’d always just been my beast. My love.

  But it was like I’d been watching a stranger. A violent, terrible one.

  I dropped my head into my hands, leaning forward on my seat and shaking my head. I didn’t know what was happening to him here, but he was changing. And not for the better.

  I didn’t know who he was anymore. And I was terrified that maybe I hadn’t known him the way I’d always imagined I had.

  “Scarlett, I—” Blue’s voice cracked, and I shook my head.

  “No, Blue. Don’t. I... I can’t even. Talk. About—” I sucked in a sharp breath when my voice cracked and quivered, tears evident behind it. I had to stop talking. I told myself to breathe and swallow, just breathe and swallow.

  After a minute, I was finally able to push the lump of tears back down.

  “I’ll leave you be, then, Scar. The sun will rise in an hour. Call me if you need anything. You’re not alone, little flower. I promise, you’re not alone.”

  I nodded but didn’t quite trust myself to speak yet. He went off, vanishing to only goddess knew where. I released a choppy, broken breath. The second I did, the damn burst, and the tears began pouring down my cheeks.

  This wasn’t Mercer.

  Physically, it was him.

  The voice was him.

  The way he moved. How he fought, it was all him.

  Except when I looked in his eyes, they were hollow and empty, like he knew something terrible, something so horrible that it haunted his every waking step. He was keeping something from me. I just knew it. I had to find out what. I had to save him from whatever was happening to him. I had to help him some way, somehow.

  I heard the tentative steps before I saw him. But I knew from his scent of sweat, peppery autumn leaves, and musk that it was Mercer.

  Heart breaking for so many reasons, I stood up and, without speaking a word to him, I walked down the hall toward the room I’d been shackled in the night before.

  His steps were steady behind me. When I got to the room, I stepped aside, and a moment later, he followed suit.

  I looked up at him, and he looked down at me.

  My mate’s mark throbbed with the terrible knowledge that my mate was as far from okay as he could possibly get.

  He was coated in blood. Some his. Most not. His hair was again unbound, and his face clawed and welted. There was blood staining his beard and the tips of his hair.

  His blue-green, bloodshot eyes looked down on me, completely broken and shattered. He quivered, and I caught sight of his fingers flexing rapidly, like he wanted to grab me, hold me, and stroke me as I stroked him back, murmuring to him that everything was just fine.

  I couldn’t seem to stop the flow of tears, and though I took his face in mine and lowered him to me, he knew I cried. A groan of terrible longing mixed with fear trembled off his tongue.

  We held each other tight, trembling so hard that I was sure we’d fall over. Somehow, we didn’t, but neither one of us moved for what felt like an eternity.

  I wanted to reassure him. I wanted to tell him that it was alright. That I would never judge him. Never find in him any fault. That I trusted him implicitly.

  But I couldn’t lie. Not to him.

  Our hearts were completely fractured, torn open and hemorrhaging blood with each desperate pump they took. He dug his fingers into my spine, whimpering low, the sound so wounded that it brought a fresh batch of tears to my eyes.

  “I... I don’t...” His words trailed off, but our mate’s marks made us as aware of one another as our own souls.

  I shook my head. “Merc,” I said, voice nothing but a broken whisper, “I don’t know what’s happening to you in this place, but I do know this. You can tell me anything. You know that, right? I’m your mate, I’m your—”

  With a harsh moan, he stole my mouth and my words. That was the spark we both needed. The sun would be coming up soon, but we had to have each other. We had to feel again and know that, no matter what was coming, we had each other.

  He made love to me like a man possessed, claiming me almost brutally. I screamed even as I begged for more.

  Our coupling was a wildfire out of control, spreading, engulfing, and destroying us both. But we were damned, and were going to sink with the ship no matter what.

  When we finished, we were still no closer to figuring out what the hell was even happening. We just clung to one another, holding on tight, as if by force of will alone we could stop time and stay inside this moment forever.

  “Mate,” he growled into the heavy silence in a tone I’d never heard from him before.

  Breathless with fear, I shoved up and locked eyes with him, not failing to note the odd pet name he’d never used with me before.

  He swallowed, curving his palm over my right cheek as he looked at me with eyes that pleaded silently for me to save him.

  “Mercer, tell me what to do. Tell me what’s happening to you. Please, tell me what to do.”

  I clutched at his strong wrist, and my heart shattered when I heard the quiet sobs that took him.

  My big, strong warrior was crying tears for me, and the worst of it was that I didn’t know how to save him from this. I didn’t even know what was happening.

  The fear leeched through me so violently that Tenebris blinked awake. Vaporous curls of pearl-black smoke started to leech through my pores, that deadly power of hers that had nearly killed Mercer when it had stroked him once before.

  His lashes fluttered, but he shivered, almost as if he liked the pain. He held me so damn tight that breathing was no longer an option. Tenebris’s power didn’t seem to bother him at all this time.

  He moaned. “I’m not right in that place, Mate. I’m not right. Only when I’m with you. Only when you touch me. When you hold me. Then I’m me again. Then I’m whole.”

>   “I’ll never leave your side again, then,” I whispered. “I’ll go with you. To hell with those stuffy shifters. I don’t give a shit if I go berserk again. I’ll kill them all. I’ll save you, Mercer. I’ll—”

  “Oh, beautiful female,” he moaned and pulled me gently against his chest, cradling me like I was the very finest and greatest of treasures he possessed in all the world. “You don’t even know what you mean to me. I love you, mate. I always will.”

  Tenebris trembled violently within me, and I hissed, not because I didn’t love hearing him say those words to me, but because they felt an awful fucking lot like goodbye.

  And why the hell was he talking so weird?

  I dug my nails into his chest, breaking skin, but he didn’t seem bothered by it. His gaze never flinched from mine, giving me time to study him, to notice there was something slightly different about him tonight. His voice was lower, more gritty, and the “mate this” and “mate that” and “beautiful female”...

  I sniffed. He still smelled like my man. But the edges were rougher, sharper, more... feral.

  “You’re not Mercer,” I growled, feeling my fangs drop, feeling the hunger stretch and grow inside of me. “And yet you are him too. You’re Wolf. I know your taste. Your touch. Where is Merc? Where is my—”

  “Shhh,” Wolf whispered, grunting hard and making me break out in icy shivers.

  Though this wasn’t Mercer, it was a part of him I was completely and absolutely devoted to as well. I could no more turn my back on Wolf than I could on my man.

  “What have you done to him? Where is he? Is that you in the arena? Is that you, that wild, crazed beast? Is that you, Wolf?”

  He said nothing, but I saw the truth in his eyes, and I screamed.

  “Bring him back! Don’t bury him. Don’t hurt him!”

  Wolf clenched his jaw tight, causing the muscle to flex. “Wolf comes to you tonight, mate, because Animal desires it be so. But our time is done.”

  “What?” I gasped, shaking my head even as he began to roll out from under me.