Alpha Blood

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  “Hey,” she says, pissed that her voice sounds breathy. It is what it is. Damn.

  “Hey.” After an awkward second or two, he asks, “you want to go out there when Julia drops the bomb?”

  Cyn laughs, despite her shyness with this guy, not exactly typical for her. “Um, sure.” Cyn whips her head around his large body and notices her friend is gone.

  Damn, what a dork I am. “Jules took off.”

  He nods then waits.

  “Oh!” Cyn says, smoothing a hand over shitty dishwater blond roots.

  Truman moves back, and she stands, noticing again how tall he is. “How tall are you anyway?” she blurts.

  Great, Cyn. Smooth.

  “Six five or something.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. Before, I was a starting to go bald, gaining a beer gut, fifty-year-old, hard-working beat cop—detective,” he quickly corrects then looks away. “I was just around six foot. There’s been a small physical learning curve.” He puts his index finger and thumb to almost touching.

  Shit—he does like me.

  “I’m glad there’s somebody besides me who was human before too.”

  Cyn tentatively takes one of the hands that hangs loose by his side.

  Truman looks down at her hand in his like it appeared out of thin air. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admits quietly.

  Cyn feels an eyebrow arch. “Which part? Us dating, being werewolves, or all of the above?”

  His smile is crooked, real. “All, I think.”

  “Me, either.” Cyn winks. “Let’s screw it up together.”

  Truman’s eyes go serious. “Or maybe make it work,” he says quietly.

  Cyn feels heat rush to her face, but she keeps her eyes locked on his. “Yeah.”

  They walk to the huge barn that serves as space for both training and talking. Julia’s going to talk about heavy shit.

  Like Victor’s death.

  Dark Master being out of the picture.

  And the best news of all—the spore has vanished. Tony Laurent didn’t get the last word after all.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Tessa

  T essa awakens gradually. There is no feeling of fear, but there’s a lot of residual warmth tracing scattered lightning strikes of healing. She almost did herself in, going after that fucker rogue Were.

  That thought snaps her eyelids open.

  Laz is sitting beside her.

  Suddenly, Tessa feels the warmth of pebbles beneath her hands and understands they’re still on the shore of the Dosewallips.

  Swallowing, she tries to form a word, and it comes out like a bruised croak.

  Laz’s head whips in her direction, his face a mass of healing bruises and cuts.

  “My Redemptive.”

  Tessa is helpless to stop the tears of relief. Covering her eyes, she can feel the throbbing of the one talon that was torn off. She’s so tired of running and being attacked.

  The whelp. She spreads her fingers over her flat stomach. Her lower body is now clothed with a filthy pair of leggings.

  Laz chuckles.

  Tessa gingerly sits up on an elbow, glaring at him, her drying tears no doubt marking a dirt trail down her cheeks.

  At the expression on her face, his smile stays, though the laughter dries up.

  “What on earth is funny?”

  “Ah,” Laz says, quirking a fair blond eyebrow, “your reactions. Siege was laid against us, and you wake up and take stock of your clothing. First crying, now anger. What’s a demon to think?”

  Tessa rolls over onto her back again, gazing up at a rare cloudless sky and taking a deep, steadying breath. “How long have I been unconscious?”

  “Hours. Through the night and into the early morning.”

  Laz is directly above her now, brushing a loose strand of hair that had wrapped around her throat. His eyes are such a light blue, they’re nearly colorless. “Your body was engaged in deep healing. The Were are all dead, excepting two. I took the heads of the others.”

  Her lips quirk. “You do get the job done.”

  His light-red skin pinches between his brows. “Not as I wished. Though I spared you the violation, at least.”

  “I didn’t change, did I?”

  Laz gives a minute shake of his head. “No, though it was perplexing. The way your body so desperately needed to heal the injuries.” He touches her tender rib lightly, and Tessa winces. Laz’s grave eyes flash black then shift to the glacial blue again.

  Tessa’s heartbeats trip. “You’re sorta scary when you do that.”

  “It is meant to be so.”

  Tessa nods, comfortable beneath him, his silhouette shadowing her body from the sun. But if she didn’t know Laz, she would be terrified. And Tessa’s no weeping female. Well, that’s not true anymore, is it? The certain possibility that she’s with whelp has changed her into this emotionally-charged version of herself.

  Tessa doesn’t like it.

  And she needs to find out what’s happened. Like now. “So where are the two losers who escaped?”

  Laz retreats from shadowing her body, and a brilliant swath of light strikes Tessa. She groans into the sensation of warmth.

  Shading her eyes, she watches steam escape Laz’s nostrils. Difficult to see in direct light, the vapors are visible in the shadows that conform to his shape.

  “That noise,” Laz admits, lowering his eyes.

  “Don’t.” Using her free hand, Tessa takes hold of one of his, bloodied from the battle. “You don’t have to feel bad about wanting to take me.”

  His eyes flick to hers then away. “You are healing.”

  Tessa smirks. “If you recall, so were you. And you still managed to sex me up in the middle of nothing like I was a featherweight.”

  Laz frowns.

  Tessa touches his bare muscled arm lightly, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. “I know my size.”

  “And it is nothing compared to mine,” he states as fact.

  Tessa’s not sure. Strength is relative. What’s easy for one being could be difficult for another.

  She’s always considered herself to be a strong female, built well and tall. Hell, her size, strength, and cunning have saved her when Tramack would have taken her easily.

  Laz trails a finger down her cheek, and she turns her face into the touch. “I feel safe with you, Lazarus.”

  He palms the side of her face gently. “As you should. Those Were did not threaten us.”

  Tessa frowns. “That jerk Bray just about got me—and that fucker with the demon blood.”

  “You were never in danger, my Redemptive.” His face is like carved stone, he’s so serious. “Even when the high demon was upon us.”

  Hmm. Tessa sure felt like she was in danger until that final moment when Laz tore Bray off her.

  “A non-demonic who dares to rape a female who is in your state will get his”—Laz’s brows come together—“member singed off.”

  Tessa laughs, sitting up on the warm round stones with an abrupt laugh. “You mean his prick will burn off?”

  Laz nods.

  “Wait a sec,” Tessa says slowly, searching eyes that can go from sly to guileless in an instant. “The ʻstateʼ I’m in?”

  His face closes down. “I was waiting for you to tell me. And when you chose not to, I thought perhaps you were embarrassed with our mating.”

  Tessa grits her teeth through the pain, moving to her knees, and grips Laz’s face between her palms. “I will never be embarrassed of you.” She kisses his lips softly, feeling the extra kick of warmth Laz has because of his demon nature.

  “I did not think…” Laz takes a deep breath then lets it out slowly. “I did not think I could ever deserve a female such as you.”

  “You know that I’m expecting a whelp.”

  Laz gives a single nod, and her fingers trail down the sides of his face. She sits back on her heels. “How?”

  His head ticks back as his eyebrows hike. “I am demonic.”

&n
bsp; Tessa rolls her eyes at that. “Ah-huh. So?”

  “We do not have the sense of smell that your kind do, but a male knows when his seed has been planted in fertile ground and thrives.”

  She smirks. “Fertile ground, eh?”

  Laz frowns, and once again, Tessa is reminded of how literal he is. “I have known for…” He cocks his head to the side. “Three of your Between days.”

  “So Bray’s prick would have fallen off?”

  “Yes, but not immediately. First, it would have blackened, then—”

  “That’s okay, baby. I get it.” Tessa smiles.

  Laz smiles back. “However, I still did not want another male penetrating my Redemptive.”

  With a small shiver, Tessa nods. “No penetrating.”

  Laz’s smile is sly.

  “Except by you,” she adds.

  “We understand each other very well.”

  Then he spends the next two hours showing Tessa how well he understands her—and the body that’s attached to her mind.

  Laz

  He is careful with Tessa, treating her with a delicacy that is difficult for one such as he.

  Lazarus is acutely aware of how fortunate he is and does not tempt fate.

  Instead of charging after the miscreants, he let them run.

  His Redemptive was injured and carried his offspring. She would not be left vulnerable and alone.

  Laz has not taken opportunity to explain all this to Tessa.

  After he made slow love to her on the banks of the great river they travel beside, Laz made sure that she ate their entire ration of food then forced her to remain where she was an additional night.

  “Laz,” Tessa groans, breaking into his thoughts—which are the linear ones shared by all the demonic. “I’m fine, really.”

  He stabs the stick of river driftwood that he’s using as a stirring device for the fire he began by the shore, unresponsive to her declaration.

  Tessa must be kept warm, along with the babe which grows within her womb. Laz needs none of those contingencies. He is always warm. Probably his mixed blood affords him that flexibility.

  When it comes to a pure blood high demon, any of the inclement weather of this season would be cause for chilled flesh and misery. If Dark Master were to venture to Between, though a very unlikely scenario, Laz can imagine how awful the venture would be. It was surprising the high demonic Tom thought he would be strong enough to take Laz.

  He might not be the last. It was a miracle he was able to overcome the effects of the ancient blood rite. Again, his mixed blood must have afforded him some immunity, for which he was profoundly grateful. “We will tarry an additional night, Tessa, then continue south.”

  Her lips flatten, and she sulks.

  Laz doesn’t mind. If it allows her more time to recover and fully heal, be nourished, and rest, he believes the time spent here is well used.

  “I wonder how Tahlia is doing?” Tessa asks, almost to herself.

  Laz purses his lips, remembering. She was young, impetuous. But he liked Tahlia, even though she was no fan of him. He cannot blame her for that perspective.

  Lazarus is demonic and the natural enemy of many, for good reason.

  But that final day they spent at the Lanarre of the Hoh, she attacked those who attempted to mete more punishment than he had agreed to.

  Tahlia is a brave being. “I wish her well,” he says aloud.

  Tessa gives him a sharp look. “I don’t know if any female can be well in that pack. Drek and Bowen seemed like they were trying, but Neil…” Tessa shudders.

  Neil is worth her reaction. He gives Laz a physical reaction too, but of a different variety. More of the visceral type. “I am very glad to be away from there,” Laz muses, not adding more verbiage for Tessa’s benefit. “We are autonomous.”

  The firelight illuminates one side of her face as she looks at him. “Not for long. We’ll be in the Northwestern, and we have to go through the entire process again.”

  Laz shakes his head then drops his stick after poking the fire one last time. The embers cooperatively cling to one another, giving another radiant burst of heat, and Tessa’s lips part, enjoying the warmth as the night blankets everything around them, causing a chill outside the tight circle of fire.

  He lifts his chin. “The process will be better. You like this Adi and her mate, Slash.”

  Tessa nods.

  “And the male is quite old?”

  “No, not really—probably three hundred, but no adolescent for sure.”

  Laz chuckles. “An infant.”

  “Listen, you.” She grabs him, and Laz’s eyes widen, quickly moving to a knowing smile as she teases his stoic nature. “Not everyone is a thousand years old, ya coot.”

  Coot?

  He moves her nimble fingers to his prick, instantly hard. “Is there anything which feels infirm to you, Tessa?”

  Her breath catches. “Probably not,” she admits softly.

  Wrapping her fingers around his hard, hot length, Laz bites his bottom lip to hold back making the sound that would tell Tessa how desperately he wants her. The control she has over his body.

  Over his soul—if he has such a thing.

  “Definitely not,” he manages and rises to his knees as she mirrors him. Though she is tall for a female, the top of her head is level with his mouth.

  So he uses those lips on her hair, trailing hot licks of fire down her forehead, hovering at her temple, then finally finding her lips.

  “Laz,” she murmurs as though his kiss is food.

  Laz feeds his Redemptive—with more than the thrusting of his body, but his warmth, protection, and unswerving loyalty.

  Because this will not last.

  Their union.

  The Dark always comes to claim what is theirs.

  And that black cloud of knowledge continues to gain momentum inside his mind like an oncoming storm.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Quill

  Q uill gives Jenni some space. After Slash neatly outlined the immediate protocol for the pack, Jenni raced after Adi, and Quill followed.

  At a distance.

  If Jenni were a born Were female, as he told her when they were finally able to have a conversation while she was healing, she would understand so much instinctively or because she was raised within the Were culture.

  But she wasn’t.

  So now Quill has a dual challenge. He must woo her and do it with a finesse he’s unsure he can manage.

  He’s lucky to have a female at all. The other males of their small pack can’t always hide their resentment.

  Jenni was human a month ago. A dying one. An inexperienced Alpha female changed her because a Lanarre male tore open her throat and left her to bleed out.

  It was an inexperienced thing for Adi to do, but Quill can’t fault her. Especially now.

  Trauma, a different species and culture, plus the commitment of his beast to her is muddying the waters perfectly. So instead of shadowing her like his beast wants to, Quill follows at a safe distance so she’s protected but not suffocated.

  Quill doesn’t like it.

  His beast loathes the distance, pushing him to get closer to his chosen female. Quill resists the compulsion, thinking about how much it sucks to be a male.

  Slash saunters past him without a word, moving toward Adi, who stomped out of there in a fit. Quill does not envy that male his role as Alpha to a small pack that just had a war and has lost another male. He is also mated to a thoroughly willful female with whelp.

  No thanks.

  After a brief interchange, Adi and Slash twine fingers and walk away into the woods. No doubt to get reacquainted.

  Jenni leaves in the opposite direction, head down, her gait proving she favors the side Bray laid into.

  Heat rushes to his limbs, and Quill stifles the memories before they can bloom and cause his beast to thrash. He’s damn glad the moon is on the wane.

  Jenni stops, turning toward him, and
subtly flares her nostrils. She can’t see him through the dense tree cover, but her beast is alerted to his scent.

  Quill smiles as she gingerly picks her way through the underbrush that fills the forest floor.

  She’s very new to begin her cataloging of scents.

  It’s excellent she knows his.

  Quill reveals himself, stepping to the side and moving from behind the tree.

  Jenni keeps coming.

  Her eyes shine, and she steps into the shadow of his body. He slides his arms around her.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she whispers. “It’s not fair for me to commit to you unless I actually can, if that makes any kind of random sense.”

  Quill tenses. “You are free to be with any male.”

  Her fingers claw at his side, gripping the material of his snug black T-shirt, the standard uniform for his kind.

  “Are you telling me to or saying I can?”

  Moon. “You can,” Quill states then holds his breath.

  “I can’t promise anything, but I want to try.” Jenni tips her head back, and in the low light beneath the canopy of trees, he can’t see where her pupils end and the irises begin. “You’re a good man.” She gives a self-conscious smile. “Male,” she corrects herself softly. “But I have to determine how much of that quality is because I’m a woman and we’re apparently scarce or if that’s just who you are, Quill.”

  He sighs. “Understood. I’m patient. And for the record, it wasn’t my plan to take up with a turned female or that my beast chose you. I don’t understand how all this works, but it’s more biology than choice. That part is crystal clear.”

  Jenni’s arms drop from his body, and they stare at each other. “And forgive me if that doesn’t scare the crap out of me. I want to choose my path, Quill. Because the cancer I had as a human being robbed me of that. Now I’ve got a second chance, and I’m not tossing that gift away. No matter how powerful the moon is.”

  Quill grins suddenly.

  “What?” Jenni asks, her brows cinching.

  “It’s—you’re newly turned, and that is what you’d think. The moon rules us all. And she’s a fickle bitch.”