Nightshade's Bite (Blood Wars)

by Zoe Forward

If she was a wolf, he’d think her his mate, but she wasn’t. Two wolves with perfect, complementary chemistry could awaken long-dead emotions in each other. It did not happen with a vampire, not for him.

  She must have the power to hook into his feelings. He’d felt her in his mind, somehow. He didn’t like anyone messing in his head, but the moment when he should’ve struck out at her came and went. Because the onslaught of emotion left him stupid as a lamb on its way to slaughter or, more appropriately, a cadaver in a box.

  You’re not dead, though. She’d kept her promise.

  His gut twisted with a jolt of anticipation over the thought of seeing her again.

  He liked her brazenness. No fear. No hesitation to challenge him. The leech was dangerous, but not because she could overpower him. She fascinated him.

  Time to find her and go home.

  He scrutinized the windowless bedroom lit by one bedside lamp, identifying every potential weapon. He wasn’t cuffed, and the door was unlocked. That didn’t mean he wasn’t a prisoner but made it less probable.

  He touched his healed side as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. It didn’t hurt, didn’t even feel stiff. Healing mortal injury only took minutes, sometimes longer depending on his health. This time probably took a while since he’d been eating like crap and not sleeping for days. Insomnia was the only way to avoid the dreams.

  Someone lingered outside the room. He jumped up, ready, but no one burst through the door. His head wobbled, but he remained statue still.

  Show no weakness.

  Maybe it was his guard? Bad luck for whomever it was. Two steps and he glanced down, shocked to find himself in cargo pants, a T-shirt, and no shoes. These weren’t the clothes he’d worn last night.

  Clothes didn’t matter. The second he hit the outdoors, he’d ditch them, shift to his wolf form, and run.

  He grabbed a discarded coffee mug, squinted at the writing on it, but couldn’t make it out. He wasn’t illiterate, but despite being an accelerated healer, his up-close vision had slowly diminished with each passing year. These days, like an old human, he needed reading glasses, not that anyone other than Bryan knew.

  He had to get out of here.

  The kidnapped child he’d been seeking in Paris may already be dead.

  Sorrow and fury coalesced into a slurry of extreme sensations. He stumbled against the wall while clutching his head as it pulsated like someone shoved a spike through his eye. While he got control of emotions he hadn’t experienced in eons, he panted. These feelings were incredible, like brilliant multi-colored lights illuminating what had been a gray void of existence.

  This was her doing. Damn her, she must have some unusual psychic ability to plug into his emotional grid and unlock the gate. Part of him despised the concept of her doing this, but the other half of him wanted to get on his knees and thank her for the gift of genuine feeling.

  Get off the fucking wall, you wuss. Weakness isn’t allowed.

  He stalked out the door.

  A blond-haired kid he gauged to be somewhere between late teens and twenty years of age sat cross-legged in a chair typing on an open laptop. His thin arms and gaunt frame didn’t suggest fighter. The kid was in desperate need of a steak or maybe a glass of blood, if he was a vampire. Didn’t smell like a vampire.

  Odd for this kid to be his guard. But appearances could be deceiving.

  Michael gripped the mug. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but he could do a lot of damage with it. Experience taught him violence struck when least expected. The best counterattack was to be fast, furious, and prepared.

  The kid glanced up, eyeing the mug in Michael’s grip. He held up his hands, a sign of surrender. “I’m Adric. Not a threat.”

  “Where am I?” Michael demanded. The hallway had a few other closed doors and an elevator at the end of the corridor.

  “You’re in Calais. Somewhere safe for now, as long as you stay calm and remain downstairs.”

  “Are we underground?” Sweat prickled his back. He didn’t do well underground.

  Adric nodded.

  “I need to return to Paris.” And get the hell upstairs.

  “She made arrangements for you to get out of here, but your extraction has got to be done carefully. She should be back soon to tell you the plan.” Adric consulted his watch. When he looked up, the kid gave him a toothy smile. “Are you really Michael Durand?”

  He nodded.

  “I can’t believe you’re you. I mean that you’re here and you exist. I’ve heard of you, but who hasn’t? And I’m thrilled you don’t seem crazy. You know, you’re a legend. Based on rumors of what you did three months ago in Florence, taking out an entire contingent of Squad vamps, I bet you could give John Wick a run for his money.” The kid shut the computer, placing it on the ground next to him.

  “Wick?”

  “Sorry. I always forget you old guys aren’t good with pop-culture references. He’s the star of a movie series. An assassin-type guy—”

  “I saw the movies,” he said. “The first was good. The second was okay. The third was pushing it. The gun work was good. That shit with the gold coins was annoying.”

  “You know the movies?” Now Michael got the you’re-my-hero grin from Adric. He got this a lot from adolescent werewolves when he talked movies. Hell, from seasoned fighters as well.

  “I watch a lot of movies. Also play a lot of video games.” Anything to avoid sleep.

  “Man, you’re so much cooler in reality than all the hype about you. I’m sorry about what the Squad guys did to you. Most of them are robotic, self-obsessed dipshits, although we have been able to flip a few to our cause.” Adric slapped his hand over his mouth. “You did not just hear me say that. Please, forget you heard that in case Squad vamps capture you and torture you for information. I totally didn’t just tell you that some in their ranks might be traitors. I talk too much. It’s why I’m not allowed in the field. Usually, I don’t get to meet the rescues. No one comes here, but she insisted on bringing you. Crap. Probably shouldn’t have said that, either.”

  “You’re part of the Nightshade League?”

  “More IT support than field agent.” He covered his face. “Seriously, please don’t tell her I told you anything. She risks so much for you guys.” Like a manic talking hamster, he rambled on. “Dad totally freaked when he saw your back and realized the Michael Durand was in the car, but not her. Oh, no. She’s cool as a clam about almost everything. She has her triggers like we all do, but overall, she’s tough to rile up. Guess it’s because she’s older than anyone I’ve ever met. Shit, so are you. Maybe you’re even older than her. Gosh, did you ever meet a real Viking?”

  Michael’s eyebrows shot upward, but he didn’t answer.

  “Guess you can’t possibly be that old. I was watching Vikings on TV, and it all seemed like bullshit. Sure would be neat to have the opinion of someone who’d been there.” Adric paused for a few breaths. “They say you go loco at random and kill everything. That true?”

  That was pure rumor. As general of the war initiative and regional leader of hundreds of his people, he kept his mindset tight. He’d lost it a few times on the battlefield over the years to earn himself the crazy label. What warrior hadn’t when surrounded by dead, facing low odds of survival, and knowing everything nearby wanted to kill him? That was the moment he let loose to the true meaning of insanity.

  Insanity. The sane didn’t understand what it meant to be IN-sane. Most tossed the label around as a derogatory slur to rationalize inexcusable behavior. He knew insanity. It was the absence of everything that grounded him in the world, a good-bye to external awareness. It was the only way to survive when a brother was eviscerated in front of him and family members tortured. Long ago, when he’d been enslaved, vampires had brutalized anyone he cared about to get him to behave, sometimes killed them. In response, he lost his mind
and annihilated nearby vampires every time, which had ultimately led his captors to bolt him to a wall.

  “Is she Nightshade?” he asked instead of answering the loco question.

  Adric clammed up. He avoided direct eye contract. “She should be back any minute. I’ll let her explain the whole Nightshade thing to you. Maybe I should give her a buzz and let her know you’re awake.”

  He didn’t quite recognize the kid’s smell. “You’re what? Half wolf? Half human?”

  “Don’t tell her. She thinks I’m pure wolf.” Adric paused, opening his cell phone to put a finger to his lips.

  She’d never be that naive. He perceived her to be old. Probably not as old as he was. Hell, few were that old, but still, she was not a vampire who’d be fooled by this kid. His esteem for her rose a bit. Vampires usually executed the mixes. She must harbor the kid.

  “I’m shitting with you. Of course she knows I’m half wolf.”

  “Is she your mother?” Michael asked.

  Adric grinned. “That’d be wicked cool, but I don’t think…no. She’s never had any biological children. My mom was a werewolf.”

  Interesting about her…

  No. Not fucking interesting. He had a quest that didn’t involve some do-gooder vampire.

  The kid held up his phone and rolled his eyes. “No signal down here. Stupid of me to forget. You sure you’re doing all right after what they did to you? Not feeling any…” He rocked his head back and forth and scrunched up his face. “Soreness or whatever?”

  Was the kid delaying him on purpose?

  “How long have I been out?” he asked.

  “Almost a day.”

  Too long. So much time wasted. “I’m leaving.”

  He stalked up the hall.

  Adric jumped up and darted in front of him. “Hold up. You can’t leave right now. You have to stay down here. There’s this meeting that’s going to kick off pretty soon upstairs, which would be super bad if you crashed, both for you and all of us. She’s also doing her alone time right now. No one bothers her when she wants solitude. No one.” He put a hand on Michael’s chest to stop him. “I can’t let you leave.”

  Michael glared at the insulting appendage and shoved the kid out of the way. Adric stumbled into the wall. He hadn’t even tried to defend himself. He wasn’t trained. The new generation was a terrible disappointment, most more focused on electronics than learning combat skills.

  Michael punched the only button on the elevator.

  Adric scooted himself in front of the elevator doors again. Persistent bugger. “I really can’t let you go up there. Seriously. This is about your security. And ours. There’ll be a lot of people, many of the fanged persuasion, arriving soon.”

  “Move, or I’ll hurt you,” he said.

  “I’m not afraid to die, you know.” Adric crossed his arms.

  “Then you’re stupid.” The elevator dinged its arrival. Michael easily pushed Adric out of his way again, but the impertinent kid squeezed into the elevator next to him.

  “She won’t like you upstairs. She’s busy right now.” Adric wrung his hands. “Please, come back downstairs. I can go ask if she has time to pop down to chitchat before the meeting.”

  “Take me to her. She owes me a moment of her valuable time.” They both stepped out of the elevator when the doors opened.

  Adric blocked his path again. This time he held a dart gun aimed at him. Where the hell had he kept that hidden? “Please don’t make me use this.”

  “It didn’t work fast on me last time.”

  “Something worked. You were out for a long time.”

  “If you shoot me, I’ll still have enough time to kill you.” He granted Adric his scary smile, the one that promised a lot of pain if he didn’t put the gun down and move.

  The dart gun lowered. Adric’s arm shot out, pointing to the right. “She’s in the pool.”

  Logic and self-preservation demanded he forget her and go for the front door. Yet he followed the smell of chlorine, which directed him around several corners.

  He arrived at a bay of huge glass windows overlooking a room cast entirely in blue lights. The pool had inset floor lighting.

  She swam a lap away from him. Her smooth, efficient strokes drove her to the far end of the pool away from him. He could make out little of her underwater, although her movements mesmerized him.

  When she got to his end, she pulled herself out of the pool, still unaware of him. He focused on her delicate face and then let his gaze wander down her body as she hoisted herself out of the water, expecting the display of perfect vampire genetics wrapped in a two-piece black suit. But when she pulled herself completely upright, he nearly jolted back in shock. A scar wrapped the midpoint of her body, wide and horizontal as if someone had sliced her in half. No one survived that.

  She turned to put on her terrycloth robe, confirming the scar wrapped three-sixty around the entire circumference of her body. It bisected her back, right through the spine. Even if you put the two halves of her close to each other, she wouldn’t have healed. He’d heard rumors of ways to dodge death, but he’d never seen it. They involved forces most didn’t trust—magic. Perhaps it was an improperly treated, three-sixty knife slice that didn’t go all the way through her body. Made more sense.

  He wondered why she didn’t hide the scar. Why not wear a one-piece? Then he’d never have known. And he wouldn’t feel…good grief, he felt respect for a vampire.

  “Michael Durand, did you hurt Adric?” she asked in her lightly accented voice.

  He flinched, not having heard her move next to him. With her long, dark hair up in a wet ponytail, she seemed younger, almost fragile.

  “What would you do if I hurt him?”

  “Hurt you back.” She targeted him with a handgun she’d withdrawn from her terrycloth robe.

  “Wouldn’t be smart of me to admit if I had, then.” There was nothing hotter than a lady prepared and willing to shoot. A bullet, even if silver or one of the newer exploding liquid silver variety, wouldn’t end him, unlike normal wolves.

  “So it seems.”

  “I intimidated him a bit, but he’s fine.”

  A smile curved her lips upward, lighting up her eyes. She was so beautiful it was impossible to look away. His pulse sped up, and a thrill of excitement shot down his spine. In that moment, he wanted to know more about her. Hell, anything about her.

  “Why’d you kidnap me?” The hoarseness of his voice surprised him.

  “You needed to be rescued. Here was the safest spot for you to recover.”

  “I had a plan that didn’t involve being rescued. You interrupted it.” He tried to place her accent—perhaps Spanish or French. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

  “Kiera Rossard.” She replaced the gun in her robe pocket.

  She trusted him enough to put her weapon away? He didn’t know whether to be offended to be considered a non-threat or flattered by her trust in him not to attack.

  “I knew a Nicolas Rossard who died around the time of the first war. Never sure what happened to his mate. Old family, maybe one of the oldest vampire families I’m aware of. I thought his daughters disappeared to the States and died.”

  “My sister, Carol, still lives in the States. My youngest sister was murdered a while ago.” She blinked several times and dropped her gaze. When she looked up, his gut tightened.

  What the hell was this useless smeariness to his eyes? Fucking tears?

  He hadn’t shed tears since the time a Squad vamp tried to twist off one of his fingers. She must be projecting by use of some sort of empath ability.

  She pressed her hand to his arm, sending blood pumping furiously through his veins. “We’ve all lost many over the years,” she said softly.

  “Appears that you didn’t die in the States.”

 
“I didn’t.” Her tone lightened, and she stepped away from him.

  He drew in a shaky breath, suddenly aware he hadn’t been breathing for as long as her hand rested against his bare skin.

  “You’re not the first to wish I’d already died. To most vamps, I’m like the embarrassing second cousin who keeps popping up and getting in trouble with my big mouth. I was an endless disappointment to my mother.”

  His twinge of like for this vampire grew a little bit more. He chuckled. “You’re the black sheep?”

  “Oh, I’m way more than that. If you’re a wolf who likes to eat sheep, let me warn you, this one has sharp fangs.” She grinned, but her smile fell. “We have to skip chitchat right now. We’re in a bit of a time crunch. I’m sorry, but you’ve got to go back downstairs.”

  “Adric mentioned you have company coming.”

  “I do.” She tilted her head. “Why were you in Paris last night?”

  He crossed him arms. Not her business. “I thought we were done with chitchat.”

  Her eyes flashed annoyance. “Was it a suicidal Squad faceoff, or were you trying to recover someone? Or was it a shopping excursion gone sour?”

  “Shopping? As in for food?”

  “Those hand-me-downs we put on you are a vast improvement to the 1980s look you were rocking. Maybe you were out looking to replace them?”

  “Who cares about clothes?”

  Horror crossed her face. “What you wear always matters, and you are in desperate need of a makeover.” She waved a hand at him. “Critical need. The hair is circa what? The 1400s?”

  His hair? Sure, it’d grown way past his shoulders with a natural wave that irritated him, but most people considered it his signature feature. If he wanted to keep it short, he had to schedule someone to cut it almost every week. Simpler for him to keep it long.

  “I’m not that old. Are you?” Now he was re-thinking his wardrobe.

  “Maybe you’re trying to emulate someone from a Tolkien novel, then? I’ll grant you, the hair works.” She pointed to his hair. “It’d be a crime to cut it. Seriously, don’t do it. It’s spectacular.” Her hand moved toward his hair as if about to touch, but then she snatched it back.