by A. E. Via
“This is definitely one of your brightest ideas yet, brother,” Mac said sarcastically.
Alek was surprised that he felt rather calm and he wondered if that was Wrath’s doing. It seemed far-fetched because ‘calm’ wasn’t a word often associated with that name. But, they had an agreement, and part of that was that Wrath would rescue their mate. That meant getting them there safely. Alek had no doubt the strong entity could accomplish that task.
Well thanks for the vote of confidence, Wrath stated.
For the first time in years Wrath’s voice didn’t sound like an angry bass drum pounding at his frontal lobe. It was almost smooth now. Still very dark, but smooth. Alek turned his head to look out of the window so his brother wouldn’t see his lips twitching. Wrath sounded… dare he say, pleased. They were all right there on the surface, the three of them. Not linked, but not at war either. No one was closing anyone out.
Justice stopped his truck beside the guard’s van. Two black SUVs with tinted windows sat to the right, eight serious-looking vampires corralled in front of them, having an intense conversation. They weren’t dressed like the guards. They had on military garb, complete with fatigues and green and brown camouflage jackets. Alek frowned, straining to hear what they were saying.
They are talking about their strategy. They’re good. Experienced. I don’t detect any deceit. This isn’t about power for them, it’s all about money. Nothing more. And the King appears to have paid generously, Wrath informed him.
Alek was wowed. How do you know?
They have no shields. I read their minds.
Now that was some power to have. He didn’t know Wrath had been hiding those abilities from him. But, then he’d never really given him a chance to showcase them, either. If Wrath had wanted out, Alek and Wolf had locked him up. Alek scrubbed his hand over his beard and shook his head. What had he done? This entire trip wouldn’t have even been needed if Alek had heard Wrath out and corrected their separation years ago. Instead, he’d let his grief and anger over losing their parents and pack members consume him. It was obvious Wrath was inside him for a reason, because the Mother had never removed him, even as Alek had refused to acknowledge him. His mind was wide open so Wrath could feel his regret, his self-scolding… and his apology.
Farica stood beside the Lord Protector, with a black, carry-on size luggage propped beside her. She looked as relaxed as ever, maybe even excited. Her hair was swept up into a ponytail and she’d changed into an all-black Nike sweat suit. When Alek got out of the car, he heard Ramon telling her some details about the jet.
“It flies really smoothly. Once we’re at our cruising elevation you’ll hardly notice you’re up there.”
She chuckled softly, and Alek didn’t miss the way the Lord Protector responded. His midnight eyes dropped to Farica’s glossy lips as she continued to go on about how her brothers were the ones who were worried, and not her. It was baffling to Alek how Farica could be so oblivious to the effect she had on people.
“I’m not worried about anything.” Mac frowned. His mouth was saying one thing but Wolf was able to pick up on Mac’s animal shifting inside him, practically clawing at him to get far, far away from that death cruiser they called a jet.
Alek smiled. He was rather enjoying this wide-open link he had with Wolf and Wrath. He was becoming privy to so much.
“What the hell is so funny?” Mac scowled at him, his thick eyebrows dipping.
“Nothing at all. It’s going to be fine,” Alek tried to assure his little brother. “Go over there and talk to Farica while I speak to Justice.”
Mac glanced between his brothers then shrugged them off. He grumbled to Wick on his way past, “I hope you at least got some of those complimentary sweet and salty peanuts everyone raves about on airplanes?”
The king didn’t respond to Mac’s quip, still appearing too distraught to enjoy any kind of humor. Mac walked away and right into their sister’s outstretched arms. Once Mac was enfolded in her cocoon of serenity, Alek turned to Justice and Wick. He didn’t get a chance to open his mouth before Wick was in his face, his dark eyes flashing with pain.
“Are you sure you can get him back, Alek?” Wick sighed. “I hate to have to keep asking. It’s just… Bell is very important to me. He’s… he’s always been there.”
Alek, let me forward, Wrath said smoothly.
W-what? Alek stuttered a moment, wondering if Wrath was serious. Did he want him to take all his clothes off right there and shift to Wolf and then to… What the hell was he thinking? He realized they had a deal, but this was insane. What if Wrath got mad and…
Hey! We have an understanding, at least for now, right? That I won’t hurt anyone. Now trust me. Let me forward. There’s no shifting needed, I just want to speak to the King. Your mouth will work fine, Wrath said slowly, now close your eyes and fade back but don’t go far.
Um… Alek hadn’t done this in… he couldn’t remember if they had done this before. Wrath always emerged through Wolf. Wrath was a wolf.
Alek! Stop questioning him and let him through. Justice is staring at us like we’re insane. While you all needlessly debate, our mate waits and suffers, Wolf scolded them. Wrath, make this quick.
Alek let out a deep breath and told his brother. “Wrath wants to talk to Wick.”
Justice reared back, studying him. “No. Not after that display this morning. He can’t be controlled.”
“I wasn’t asking,” Alek said, then closed his eyes. He thought of the powerfully supreme force that lived within him and called him forward, as opposed to fighting him. Immediately, he felt Wrath’s gratitude, and he let that very strange but welcome sentiment in.
In a blink, Wrath’s presence was on the surface, but Alek was right there with him, and so was Wolf. When Alek’s eyes opened he no longer saw in his usual, slightly enhanced vision. Everything was in high definition, as if going from black and white to 4K resolution. Their body felt warmer, but not the blazing inferno that usually assaulted them when Wrath battled to the forefront. He felt heads turn in their direction when Wick and Justice let out loud expletives and took a few steps backwards, not sure what they were seeing.
“Don’t be afraid. I only send out my vengeance when it’s warranted.” Wrath’s voice heated the frigid air around them. “I never had my targets set on you, Alpha Zenith. On none of you. I have one mission now, and that is to save Belleron. And as long as no one. No one,” Wrath warned, turning and meeting the sharp midnight eyes of the hired mercenaries, and even the King’s men who stood rigid at the head of the aircraft. “Gets in my way, then no one will meet my rage. King Bentley, do not send any more of your guards to be slaughtered. Pull back your reserves, because I don’t want there to be more innocent casualties on my hands. I will destroy the rebellion and I assure you, King, I will return with our mate.”
Wrath eased their transition back to Alek as effortlessly as if they did it every day. Alek felt energized, confident, unbeatable, and ready to get his goddamn mate. Without another word, he hefted his large duffle bag and was the first to jog up the few steps leading into the jet, as if it belonged to him. He took the first seat he saw, Wrath telling him to sit near the window. So he did, feeling fearless.
Oh yeah. They were ready.
Bell hissed and clawed desperately at the stony ground as he was dragged deeper into the recesses of the hill. The tomb had been raided all to hell. He could smell the rotten decay of death and fractured souls around him as they passed one empty tomb after another. Some of them still with half-used bags of blood lying beside them that the rebels had used to rip the inhabitants from age-long slumbers. As Bell felt sharp edges of concrete tear through his expensive suit and cut into his flesh, he tried to keep his eyes open so he could report in detail when he escaped. If he escaped. If he ever made it home again. The ones who’d ambushed them weren’t at full strength but had the numbers to overcome them. They’d greedily drained his entire team, and Bell was certain that when they’d seiz
ed him he was about to be mauled as well. But they’d gotten a good sniff of him and recoiled as if he had dung smeared on his throat.
Bell yelled and bucked as hard as he could while twenty or so vampires hustled him down deeper into the earth—stronger ones this time. These weren’t the weakened prisoners. These were the group of rebels he’d seen on the videos. They were young and angry with power-lust written all over their scowling faces. He knew where they were taking him—to the center hub where the guards’ station and records keeper were. The national tomb was maintained and operated by vampire council officers—high-level vampires whose sole job was to receive and sustain the tomb’s occupants. There were also record keepers who maintained confidential documents on every single prisoner—their crime, conviction date, sentencing report, extensive personal data, as well. All that information appearing to be vulnerable and in jeopardy of being stolen if these assholes had indeed taken over the—
“UGH!”
Bell was thrown over a balcony and flailed for two stories until he slammed into the concrete floor so hard it knocked the remaining air out of his lungs. His cane-sword was tossed several feet from his head as the rebels dropped down, landing easily on their feet and surrounding him. Bell inhaled sharply, curling in on himself before scrambling to his knees to take in what hole he’d been dropped into—the Center Hub. The tomb officials were all dead, their bodies piled up and rotting in a corner. Bell cursed these assholes, cursed them all at the sight of his maimed brothers. Some of them had beloveds and families.
Four or five vampires flashed towards him and rained down more devastating blows to his sternum and face. The bruises were healing, but not faster than they were landing them. Bell fought back as hard as he could, but the wounds weakened him. His hair was pulled viciously, yanking his neck back so far he thought that one of them was trying to take his head off. A vampire larger than any he’d ever seen, snarled and growled at Bell’s jugular, his sharp fangs dripping his wretched saliva onto his abused throat.
“Easy gentleman. Save some for the rest of us.” A vampire wearing a black turtleneck, faded black Levis and brown hiking boots strolled towards him, flanked by more vampires. “Well, well, well. What have my loyal and faithful soldiers brought to their leader?”
Bell zeroed in on the confident bastard coming towards him. His condescending words were said so smugly that it made Bell want to lurch for his blade and cut that offending tongue out.
“Are my eyes deceiving me?” The man smiled arrogantly.
“No sir, it’s really him. The others were about to bite him, but we stopped them when we noticed the hair. He stinks something awful, but this is him, yes?”
“Oh, it’s him.” The vampire stood close and motioned for the others to get Bell on his feet. It took a lot of them to hold his arms out while the brute kept a vice-like grip on ninety percent of his hair, and another had a thick bicep around his neck. “The beautiful Belleron Liatos. My Lord. Welcome. It’s truly an honor, Belleron. Your reputation precedes you. Gossips were not wrong about your handsome features.”
Bell hissed and struggled, wanting to yell his fury, but his windpipe was being crushed.
“The king must be beside himself.” The man grinned. “Good.”
“And you are?” Bell just managed to croak.
“I am Alessandro Giuliani. My brother served your king for many, many years… before the king’s so-called beloved—a shifter—killed him.”
Bell would’ve shook his head if he’d been able. He knew exactly who this was, or at least who the bastard was he was referring to. Erman Giuliani had been Wick’s captain of his personal court before he’d met Justice. It was believed Erman was secretly in love with Wick, so he’d foolishly challenged the Alpha Zenith for his true mate. Stupid. And he’d paid the price… with his life. But, that had been Wick’s order, not Justice’s.
“Now I’m doing what my brother tried to do before he was unjustly murdered. Trying to free our people and conquer an oppressive régime. Look at all who’ve followed me. Just like so many other great conquerors before me.” He motioned at the many vampires behind him. All of them brainwashed and confused.
Destroyer of the conquering people. Bell swallowed.
“You’re murderers. I’m going to show the world what the King has become. A traitor. And more will stand behind me.”
“By spreading lies,” Bell snapped at the real traitor of their people. The bicep tightened around his throat, making his vision blur.
“Lies? No. They’re all here on their own free will. The King is not interested in his kind anymore. The shifters are all that matter, now. We will not bow down to—”
Alessandro blinked, his glare flashing with disbelief, “I smell…”
“I know. He stinks worse than the ones from the tombs.” The brute spat. He seemed to be the one who wanted to bite Bell in the worst way, but didn’t know what to make of his scent.
“I thought… I actually didn’t know what the smell was.” Alessandro frowned and inched closer. “Hold him good. Belleron is fast and strong.”
Bell didn’t think they needed to restrain him any tighter, but a few more joined in to secure him. Bell wanted to do a lot more than touch that piece of shit. He knew his eyes were flashing with rage. He didn’t want Alessandro’s soiled hands anywhere on him. Bell squirmed when the rebel leader pressed the blunt tip of his nose to his throat and inhaled deeply. He pulled back with a startled, yet, disgusted look. Then he reached out and yanked Bell’s collar so hard that it tore apart, leaving his neck and the top half of his chest exposed.
“The hell? You too? Impossible.” Alessandro gripped Bell’s jaw, glaring at his mating mark that sent him into a rage. He ordered sternly, “Get him chained down.”
Bell was dragged to a wooden table and body-slammed onto it. His bones felt every hit, every blow, his skin, every cut of his flesh; that healed slower and slower as they continued to beat him mercilessly. He bolted upright when he heard chains scraping across the cement floor. They were large enough to anchor a small boat. Multiple sets of arms smashed him to the hard surface while they draped the huge chains over his body and bolted them to hooks in the floor. The brute tightened the heavy links until Bell could hardly take a breath. His limbs were secured next. When they finished with him, Bell was laid out on the freezing table motionless except for his head, which he was allowed to rotate side to side.
Alessandro’s chest heaved, his fangs peeking out from under his parted lips. His breaths were shallow and Bell could see he was just restraining himself. When he was certain Bell was fastened in place, he turned his back to him and addressed his large crowd. Vampires filled the bottom level, and the five above them. All of them watching with fascination and greed. Not all of them were stolen prisoners from the tombs, some were young, healthy, newly turned vampires.
“He says I’m spreading false truths.” Alessandro retrieved Bell’s expensive cane, surveying it carefully. He didn’t pull the deadly blade from its sheath, instead he jabbed Bell in his side with the marble handle, hard enough to crack his ribs. Bell didn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of crying out. Instead, he concentrated on the few breaths he could take. “But here he lies as proof.”
Bell’s head was yanked to the side, “See. He’s let a shifter mark him. It’s why he smells like absolute dog shit.”
The vampires started seething and grumbling to ones close by them, nodding and agreeing with their leader.
“The king has mated with the Alpha Zenith. To the ones I have woken from your prisons… you are free now. You have no king. We will not be ruled by shifter laws too. You don’t have to let them shove their unnatural mating down our throats and take it!”
Loud eruptions of agreement and disdain radiated around the thick walls. The ones who were still awakening from their blood-deprived coma were feeding periodically off the new vampires, trying to regain the full function of their limbs and abilities. He didn’t like this.
Bell tried to move, and was unsuccessful. “You have a king. He is more your king now than he ever was.” Bell couldn’t yell, but he hoped they could all hear him. “His beloved is a Volkov wolf—the fair and just one. They only want to see us thrive in this new society and—”
Alessandro slapped Bell hard across his face. “Shut up! They don’t care if his wolf was birthed from the goddamn Virgin Mary, they have no business mixing with our kind. What next, half-breed, vamp-shifter pups? Feral hybrids!”
A cacophony of ‘no’s’ and ‘boos’ rang out, some of the vampires throwing rocks and debris from the balcony down onto him. Bell didn’t give up, “All of you can be pardoned if you surrender now. If you help me I will ensure that each—”
Alessandro bashed Bell in his side again, but he kept talking, his breathing becoming harder with every word. He had to fucking try. “None of you asked to be pulled from your tombs. The king will pardon you… he has mercy. Most of you know Chadwick Bentley. He would never desert you.”
“Liar! The king killed his own captain over a wolf.” Alessandro shoved his forehead against the side of Bell’s face and rumbled threateningly in his ear. “If your tainted, putrid blood wasn’t so vile I’d rip your throat out and drain you dry.”
Bell only needed one hand free and he’d show him exactly who the hell he was, and why his reputation did indeed precede him.
“Hurry up and get the communications system back online. Once we show the council our numbers and our new hostage, they’ll have no choice but to negotiate. And I’m going to give you everything I’ve promised… freedom.”
“Or you could listen to someone who has the actual authority to offer that,” Bell managed, through his wheezing.