by Dee Garcia
Is the coven waiting to have my head?
And what about Peter?
Nope, nope—not going there. I’m not going there. I can’t. We’ve all seen where that led me before.
Head swinging back and forth, I jump out of bed and make a bee-line for the door, quietly cracking it open. I need fresh air or a distraction of sorts. My mind is obviously not going to quit running in circles and it’s clear, like I said, that sleep will continue to evade me until I’ve procured every last detail of my fate.
The hallway is as dark as my temporary room. It’s so silent, too, one could likely hear a pin drop. I poke my head out further, peeking down both ends.
No one. Not a soul.
In all honesty, I’m not worried about being caught. After all, the choice to stay or go was mine. I just really, really do not want to run into Hook right now.
Steeling myself for the very real possibility of that happening, I slip out the door and wander down the long corridor with reserved steps. The burgundy carpet feels cool and springy beneath my bare feet, reminding me I’ve not had a shower since before…I shake my head again. Couldn’t have showered anyway. Don’t have clothes, no, don’t have anything here. Perhaps I’ll send for some of my belongings?
Would my mother even go for that? Probably not. Knowing her, she’ll drag me out of here herself, whether or not I’ve figured out this mess I call my life.
Amidst my troubled thoughts, it’s not long before I find the grand staircase leading to the first floor. This part of his home I’ve seen before—all dark walls, marble floors, and gold detailing everywhere you look. There’s a massive, arched window above the front doors, silvery streams of the moon spilling in, illuminating the path before me.
It’d be so easy to leave, but sadly, I know I can’t. I wouldn’t have to worry about this if Callan hadn’t—
What sounds like an erotic soundtrack suddenly meets my ears, stopping me dead in place at the top of the stairs. It fades out as quickly as I heard it, leaving me to wonder if it was nothing but my imagination, but then I hear it again. Moans, groans, each distinct, growing louder and louder the more I focus. My legs take me down the steps in seconds flat, ears honed in on what is undoubtedly the sounds of pleasure.
What are you doing, Tinksley?
Yeah, what am I doing? Whatever is taking place behind the door I’ve stopped at is none of my business.
But it’s cracked open and I’m achingly curious. Can you really blame me? I’ve never heard such enticing, erotic sounds before—not even coming from myself.
On a deep breath, I push open the door a ways more and, much to my relief, it doesn’t squeak in protest like the ones at home. Upon first glance, all looks normal. The room itself is definitely a parlor; plush seating, a grand desk, plenty of alcohol judging by the smell.
It’s not just alcohol, though. There’s a metallic sort of tinge in the air, too, one I can’t quite put my finger on. Wait, is that—
Those moans again, they all but slap me in the face. They’re so decadent, so fulfilled. The groans as well. Could it be Hook?
Not that I care or anything.
Yet I’m pushing the door with a quick hand almost all the way open.
My jaw nearly unhinges and drops to the floor as I’m granted my first peek at the performance taking place. It isn’t Callan, and it isn’t one man either. There’s several, each one paired off with a woman.
And they’re...they’re...fucking these women while they feed on them.
I’m speechless, clearly aroused by the way my thighs squeeze together. Is this how vampires feed? Heart thrashing in my chest, my eyes bounce back and forth between each couple. Two on the couch, another near the desk, even one going at it against the wall.
Holy hell.
Between the sounds and that smell, that smell I now know is most certainly blood, I can feel my body reacting to it. That crimson veil reclaims my vision, gums yet again burning. My throat constricts, stomach wringing almost painfully.
Chest rising and falling, my back then hits the door. Try as I might not to listen to that voice, a voice I presume to be instinct, I find myself throbbing with the need to have a taste of it.
The blood.
The sex.
All. Of. It.
I’m practically writhing just thinking about it, playing it all out in my head like some sick fantasy, until I hear a voice I know too well, “Tinksley?”
♫ Afraid, Unafraid - SLUMBERJACK ♫
“So what does this mean for her?” I’m asking Draegan within my office the next morning; early the next morning, as in sheer hours after finding Tinksley in her front row seat of a group feeding.
I could smell her arousal.
Could almost taste it.
Forget the pure yet seductive air of her blood, I wanted to throw her up against that door and give her a solid demonstration of the action myself.
Her reaction to it all was instantaneous.
I heard her flashing down the stairs, watched from the shadows beneath the staircase how she so carefully opened the door. And then in a single blink, her entire demeanor went up in sweltering, roused flames. Her heart rate, the chaotic gallop of her breathing. Clenched fists, trembling thighs, everything about the scenario she walked in on appealed to her in ways she didn’t understand.
In ways she wanted to understand.
Her reaction also proved one very basic and ever appeasing fact: she’s never been properly fucked.
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Draegan queries, luring me out of a daydream that consisted of Tinksley bouncing on my cock with her fangs deep in my neck.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I suck in a deep breath, and gaze down at the boy. “How bad is the bad news?”
Draegan considers my question for a moment, grimacing just slightly. “It’s pretty damn heavy.”
Figured as much.
Sighing, I pull out the seat beside him and turn my attention to the screen of his laptop. Thanks to him and Emil, we have some technological luxuries within the castle walls, smaller ones provided to the land as well. “Very well then. The bad news first.”
“Her Fae side is still active, especially since she hasn’t triggered it completely as of yet.”
“So what does that mean?”
“Essentially? That she can still very well trigger it,” he explains.
My face contorts in confusion. “How is this even possible?”
“Well…” Draegan goes about clicking through several pages until he pulls up an article and points at the screen. “She’s a hybrid.”
“What type of hybrid?”
“Half vampire, half Fae. Well, when she completes the transition, of course. Her fully-developed Fae side remains intact and as it was, meaning it will only come into play if she activates it.”
What in the actual fuck?
I almost can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth, and yet I do. Draegan may be one of the youngest, both in age prior to death and his time as an immortal, but he’s smart as a whip, and he’s never been wrong. He’s my go-to whenever I need to learn of something, whether it be here on our land or out there in the human realm.
“Okay, so she’s a hybrid. What does this mean for her overall? How does it affect her and what should we, as a people, expect from a breed we have no experience with?”
“This is the bad part.” Draegan runs a hand through his auburn hair as he turns to face me. “Could go one of two ways. Technically three, but let’s not count on the third. First scenario, she feeds, doesn’t trigger the Fae. From a power point of view, the better outcome. Tinksley will just be more impulsive than your average vampire. She’ll feel everything at a much higher magnitude than you or I have ever experienced before, and at times, typically when overwhelmed or on edge, the blood lust will be more difficult to rein in. Doesn’t mean it’s impossible, though.”
That’s all fine and dandy but... “And the other scenario. Go on, sp
it it out.”
“She feeds and triggers, and that’s Defcon 1 right there.”
“Explain,” I grit through my teeth, willing my mind not to start running wild just yet.
“She’ll be lethal, Captain. Two beasts going at once, both a predatory species. After feeding, her chances of sparking that Fae side increase.”
“By how much?”
“By a lot, which worries me for one reason. You know how these people feel about the Fae, about anyone entirely too different. If Pan was shunned for being a one-man, unknown species, they will absolutely feel that way about Tinksley, too. She’ll be one-of-a-kind here.”
I’m out of my seat in seconds, pacing back and forth beside the table. He’s right, although I wonder…No one knew what Pan was, where he came from. It’s natural to be wary of the unknown. However, that wouldn’t be the case for Tinksley. By Draegan’s research, she’s a hybrid, and I have no doubt Doctor Ward will confirm that. The people would know this.
Where the problem lies is how will they feel about knowing she’s not just a vampire, but rather, a vampire with an active Fae side that makes her that much more powerful if unleashed?
“We need to keep it quiet then. Only the council is to have word until we figure out just how bad this could be,” I impart.
“Agreed.” Draegan nods. “Unless she steers toward option three.”
I don’t need him to elaborate. I know what option three is clear as day. “If she does, what then? How much time will she have?” Trust me, I don’t want to think this way, but I need to know.
How much time I have to apologize and sit down with her. To remind her she’s not alone in this and to ensure she’s not going to take the darker path when she learns she’s more at risk than ever.
“Again, more than the average. Given the Fae feed off a life source—though completely different from ours—and can live for hundreds of years if sustained properly, it’s not battling with her vampirism. It’s working with it to keep her alive.”
“How can that possibly be, though? If they’re both a predatory species, neither one being sustained, wouldn’t she deteriorate faster?”
“Because the fae can survive for longer lengths without sustenance. How do you think those in the Hollow are still alive?”
He has a valid point.
“Okay.” I nod hopefully. “That’s good.”
“She’ll have to feed, though, Cap, and soon. If my calculations are correct, she has approximately two to three weeks at most before both sides time out. Her body will then shut down rather quickly thereafter.”
Just hearing the possibility aloud makes me sick, but there is a positive here. She has a significant amount of more time than the typical immortal is granted. Time is still a pressing matter, though, which means I have fourteen days—perhaps a few more—to make this happen.
“I’ll handle it, but first, tell me more about her type of hybrid. Has it been seen before? What’s the lifespan?”
Draegan nods and proceeds to click through a few more screens. “It has been seen, but very rarely throughout the centuries. There’s honestly not a lot of information I can supply you with. Although, based off what I know of both species, as long as she feeds and is able to keep herself in check, she should live the same type of life as you or I.”
“You’re positive,” I press, jaw clenched in anticipation.
I hadn’t considered any of this could be a possibility in my spur of the moment decision on that beach, and I’m starting to wonder if I did the right thing.
“I’d say ninety/ninety-five. She may be a hybrid, Cap, but she’s now predominantly one of us. Even if she activates the beast, her only form of sustenance will be blood. She may experience the soul-sucking desire of the Fae, but it would never sustain her. Personally, I think she’ll be fine. She’s done one hell of a job keeping it bay all her life, I’m sure with a good teacher guiding her into this new life, she’ll continue on no problem. She just needs to feed, or all of this will have, ultimately, been for nothing.”
He makes it sound so simple.
Truthfully, it should be. The need for blood should be unbearable by now, but Tinksley is stubborn, and she has another factor working in her favor. One she’s, ironically, detested her whole life. If it weren’t for her Fae side, she’d be rabid at this point.
Also ironic? How that same side could be her downfall once she completes the transition.
If she completes the transition, because as Draegan said, none of this will matter and my attempt to keep her alive will have been for nothing if she doesn’t feed.
So I guess the question now is, will she?
Or will I have to let her go and watch her die, for good this time?
Later that morning after wrapping things up with Draegan, I set off to go have a chat with Tinksley. It’s not been 24-hours since I found her on the beach, and I’m exhausted, in every sense of the word. While her initial blow up wasn’t a long, drawn out war, I know that was only a preview of what’s to come. The heated stare she pinned me with before bolting back to her room—after I caught her by the parlor—ensures it. She already had time to process some of it by then. Imagine now that several more hours have passed her by.
I’m nearing the end of the main hall when the door to the library swings open, revealing a semi-smiling Tigerlily. “We need to talk,” she states, halting my footing.
“Kinda busy here. Can we talk later?”
“No, because I know what you’re busy with, which is exactly what I want to talk about, Captain.”
Of course she would know. Always sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. She could, however, be bluffing for my attention. With the palpable buzz circulating around this morning, it’s easy to see there’s something of importance happening.
On a sigh, I clench a hand around her arm and yank her into the library. “Make it quick.”
Soon as she realizes I’m not going to close the door behind us, she smirks and continues. “So is it true?”
“Is what true?” I hedge.
“Is Tinksley, you know…”
She does know.
Lips thinned, I offer a small nod. “Mid-way, but yes.”
Tigerlily bobs her head as well, more in observation than anything else, and proceeds to take the seat in closest range, crossing one long, bronze leg over the other. “I’d say that means you have more important things to worry about than little ol’ me, which brings me to my next point.”
“Which would be?”
“I want to go home.”
My jaw almost hits the veiny marble floors. Tigerlily? Openly showing vulnerability? Aside from her screams when we first began our arrangement, she’s never once uttered those words. Her snark is what she’s known for, a common topic amongst the boys. “That’s not part of the deal,” I remind her.
“I understand that, however, I’ve also heard my brother hasn’t let up despite all the warnings he’s been given.”
The same brother who landed her here in the first place. “You’re correct.”
“I can control him, you know. Tavi listens to me, even more than he listens to dad. I’m sure he’s assured you that as The Chief he has it under control but—”
“Because of our deal and your father being on the council, your brother has been granted some leeway. I get boundaries, wanting to protect your land and what’s yours. That said, during the full moon, I keep my men out of the Woodlands out of respect. What Tavi needs to understand is that such orders on my behalf are a consideration, a peace-offering for keeping you under my roof as a repercussion for his actions. That doesn’t mean he can take advantage of it. He needs to understand the Woodlands are just as much mine as they are yours or his or your father’s.”
“Exactly why you should let me go home,” Tigerlily stresses, scooting to the edge of her seat. “Me being here will only continue to make him more uncooperative. If you set me free, his mind will ease. I can’t control him behind these fortress walls, C
aptain. Please, please...”
The Chief’s daughter interlocks her hands together, brown eyes gazing up at me in a pleading fashion. She has a point. Really, she does, but if I set her free, what leverage I have on that animal she calls a brother disintegrates. Those very words are forming on the tip of my tongue right as a knock resounds at the door.
“Captain?” Violet’s kindly voice erupts behind us. “I’ve called for the girl several times, but she won’t answer, and her room is far too silent. I’m a bit concerned.”
Tigerlily is usually “the girl,” as I’m sure you’ve noticed. In this case, or at least today, Violet’s referring to the testy, transitioning vampire a few doors down who kicked me out of her quarters and slammed the door in my face.
This should be fun.
“We’ll finish this later,” I tell Tigerlily, retreating toward the door without hesitation. “Don’t get your hopes up, though. A deal is a deal, and your brother’s debt is far from repaid.”
Far doesn’t even begin to cover it, but we’ll circle back to this later.
When Violet and I arrive at Tinksley’s door, I dismiss her with a thankful tip of my head and thoughtful kiss to her cheek, promptly rapping my knuckles against the white wood as she ambles away.
Tens of seconds tick by and no answer follows, just as she’d warned. So I knock again.
And again, there’s no answer.
“I’m coming in, Tinksley,” I forewarn her, jiggling the knob, and much to my surprise, it’s not locked.
Okay then.
Still no answer by the way, even as I push the door open to the somewhat darkened room.
She’s curled up on the bed, forehead to her knees, arms locked around her legs to keep her upright.
“Get out,” she mutters, the words muffled against her pale skin.
“I can’t do that.” I click the lock in place behind myself.
Tinksley lifts her head, eyes narrowing into familiar, lethal slits. “I don’t give a damn about what you can or cannot do, Callan. I said get the hell out.”