by Talyn Scott
Sunset Eyes marched forward, keeping the blonde steady in his arms. He flicked those incredible eyes over her dismissively, instead, concentrating on Roman. “Where?”
Pointing, Roman directed him to the right.
Without another word Sunset Eyes disappeared down the opposite corridor.
“Who is he?” Scarlett had the sudden urge to follow the man, and moved to take off. But Roman kept his hand on her, urging Scarlett back. “Tell me what’s wrong with him.”
“Nothing that won’t heal with a few hours of rest, I’m sure.” His hand came up, his fingers tightening on her chin. “You are exhausted.”
An instant wave of relaxation rolled over Scarlett, sagging her knees. “Stop whatever — ”
“You will go in my bedroom and climb straight into bed.”
Cotton filled her head, her only thoughts were his words. She released her grip on Roman, then pressed her fingertips to her temples and rubbed in small circles. “I want to know about…” What were they discussing?
“The teacakes,” he filled in. “Yes, I’ll bring the tray to our room, and something heartier to warm you.” He nudged her back into his bedroom. “How about some soup and crusty bread?”
“I’m not hungry.” She yawned until her jaw popped and eyes watered, remembering to cover her mouth too late. “How rude of me!”
“Darling Scarlett, jet lag is common after such a long flight.” Exhaling a slow breath, Roman whispered something she couldn’t understand and then she found herself sliding into his bed with heavy limbs, her eyelids drooping down into sleep.
“All these years,” he grumbled under his breath. “I’ve never had to coerce Scarlett, and the first time I claim her, I’ve painted another layer of deception between us.”
Roman hated lies, but never seemed to get away from them. Each day he was forced to lie about his genetics, his work, his… He could no longer lie to Scarlett. As soon as she snapped out of his vampiric compulsion, Roman was hitting her with the truth. So Bestra could come after him once and for all. He’d fight him, somehow.
Because Roman could no longer fight his love for Scarlett, and one of the urges a vampire faced when finding his Bride - or in Roman’s case, because his father was a Dynasty Vampyr, his chosen bride — was to feed and mark. So how was he supposed to keep fighting that?
He also knew what was coming next: the pinning and the biting. This was only natural for his kind. And if his body was giving off any indications as to when that would happen, poor Scarlett only had hours to face up to her new reality.
Because her life had glided alongside Bestra’s, while never crossing a direct line inside his immortal world.
But all of that was about to change.
Gliding in the way of vampires, Roman emerged into one of his guest suites, to find the Vojak feeding Sage from his wrist.
“You called to me in the name of your Coven Master.” He placed his hand on Sage’s thigh, but removed it quickly when his cousin responded with a groan of sheer agony.
“Yes, I serve the North American Coven, same as Sage.” The Vojak responded, then bit into his wrist again after his wound healed.
“What’s Sage doing in Russia?”
The Vojak gave him a long look, his only response a fractional lift of his eyebrow. Though this male could intimidate anyone, Roman’s concern was not for himself, but for Sage.
“I wasn’t asking for your mission details,” Roman explained. “But you can tell me this much: Was this a retrieval for Sage, or was he injured while fighting?”
Sage hadn’t checked in with Roman in a while. Not that they saw each other much, but they spoke on the phone, at least, every other day. Usually regarding business, though, but this Vojak didn’t need to know about any of that.
“Fighting,” the Vojak replied after another self-inflicted bite to his wrist. He pressed it against Sage’s bloodied mouth, stroking the line of his throat to encourage Sage to drink.
“What is your given name, Vojak?”
“I am Commander Oycher Evdokimov.”
That gave Roman pause before he offered his honor. “Je mi cťou, Commander.”
Oycher lifted his chin. “Your cousin here, is my second in command.”
Sage never told him. “Then my entire family is also honored.”
With a sharp nod, Oycher agreed, “Yes, they are.”
Roman had met many powers in the Dynasty Empire, had worked with most of them. Hell, he even descended, somewhere along his lineage, from Prince Volos. But he’d never before met another Vojak besides Sage. Sadly, they were a rarity to his people, were badly needed, too, especially in this day and age. But Vojaks were dying out with each rising generation. This was why Coven Masters were building armies of soldiers from the strongest Species vampires they could train. Because there was a fine line between the human and vampire world, and creatures crossed it everyday.
So someone had to stop them.
“I’ll get a cool cloth for his head.” Roman moved to the bathroom, dampening a few small towels. Due to the weather, the water came out icy. When he reemerged, he asked, “What is Sage’s injury?”
“Stavz.”
A chill crawled up Roman’s spine. “He must be in complete… Wait, rumors say you males train for this in the academy, conditioning yourselves to the very weapon you use on others.” He eased the damp cloth across Sage’s forehead. “So why does he look this bad?”
“Sage was conditioned. Why do you think he’s so still? Any other vampire would have offed himself by now.” Oycher’s lip curled before he sank his fangs into his opposite wrist, then fed more blood to Sage.
He couldn’t understand how Sage was consuming such a high amount of blood. Nor could Roman understand why the Vojaks needed such a weapon, if it could be used against them this easily.
“Because,” Oycher answered his unspoken question. “There are creatures out there nastier than me, and a Stavz is the only shot we have of taking them down in order to behead them.”
“You can read minds.”
He nodded, his beads of his hair clacking with the movement. “Mostly of humans, but some of your thoughts are loud.”
“Interesting… So I’m assuming I’m in charge of Sage’s recovery.”
“We missed our plane,” Oycher explained. “Watch over him until backup arrives.”
“You’re not staying?”
“I still have a male out there.”
“How long…” What was the point of speaking aloud, when the Vojak could read his every thought?
“It’s not every thought,” Oycher again answered his unspoken words. “And you speaking will move our conversation along faster.”
Sage released Oycher’s wrist, his mouth lax from feeding, though his platinum eyebrows drew tight with obvious pain.
“I’d say Sage should heal sooner than the average three days, particularly with my blood.” He shoved his arms in his long coat, cinching it around his waist. “The Vojaks who come for him will know what to do. Do not, under any circumstances, turn his care over to anyone from your coven or of the Dynasty Empire. Are we clear?”
“Sage is family, mine to protect. He’ll stay right here.” Then Roman’s concern grew for what Oycher wasn’t revealing. “Who did this?”
“It’s an ongoing investigation.” He crossed the floor, heading into the corridor.
“Leaving me with a non answer?” Why else would he warn Roman away from the Dynasty or Russian Coven’s possible assistance? “What if Sage’s attacker — ”
“I wasn’t followed.” Oycher started gliding in the way of vampires, making it to the foyer almost faster than Roman could trace. But he suspected the Vojak would be even faster if not for donating so much blood to Sage.
“Are you sure?” He must protect Scarlett. “I have a female staying here now. If I cannot trust anyone from coven to hire for extra protection, what can I do?”
“You’ll be fine. But If you see black wings flapping over your
balcony, get your female out of here.”
Roman dared to touch the Vojak’s shoulder, causing him to spin and face him once more. “A Gryph did this?”
Oycher flicked his eyes to Roman’s hand, shrugging off the touch. “Lovec, a Donor hunter.”
When Oycher opened his mouth to add more, he froze, his eyes narrowing in studious calculation. Then Roman’s mind filled with a painless pressure, a sensation of light searching fingertips tickling his brain.
“Seems like you’ve had experience with our royal Lovci.”
When Roman took a step back, stunned at the outright invasion.The Vojak stepped into the elevator, his face tight with questions, but he didn’t ask any of Roman.
“Why did you read those memories?” And better yet, how did he know to search for them? Rage boiled in Roman’s blood, a hot and volatile force. “What are you going to do with that information, Commander?”
“Nothing to harm you or yours, just adding another missing piece to the puzzle. My mates come first, my brothers-n-arms second. Sage is my warrior brother.” The elevator doors drew closed on his last words. “Remember that.”
“Yeah? Well, I hope you never forget it, Commander.”
Chapter 8
Flynn stepped around the brick and mortar, searching for the female. But she was nowhere to be found. “Damn!” Even in werewolf speed, he’d been too slow once they’d left the crash scene, and he didn’t need a glance at his watch to know he’d been out here for hours.
Two things he could bank his money on, though: One, they hadn’t taken off in an airplane. Two, she was so close that his werewolf was clawing at Flynn, demanding full transformation to get at her.
Even though it was in his nature to guard and honor all unprotected females, one from his species would call to his werewolf more than anyone. This female in particular, however, his Beta Beast was tracking like no other. And from what his brothers had described to Flynn upon finally finding their fated females, there was no reason for this behavior besides… Could it be true? Could his female be merely blocks away after all these years of waiting, searching, and then holding on to a distant pipe dream?
No matter what, he had to find her either way. This precious one could not be kept by those vampires for their pleasures, or even worse, sold into blood slavery. So he needed to step up the hunt, and there was only one way to do that.
Bracing himself, Flynn inhaled deeply, pulling whatever he could find of the female’s scent and that of her captors into his nose, letting the Beta Beast own it. And just as he suspected, his werewolf slammed the inside of his skull with the disastrous force of a wrecking ball.
“Fuck!” He pressed his temples with the heels of his hands, willing back the pain. “Track her, Beast!” A familiar shudder stretched his bones as a haze appeared that always sharpened his vision to within a razor’s edge.
To the left, another whiff of lilacs and copper tickled his nose. Her. And she was injured. Picking up his steps, Flynn scented the female a street beyond the brick and mortar, but hidden deep behind thick walls.
This meant the only way her captors had taken her from the crash sight and hidden her easily was because they kept a lair right on the street, yet possibly it was another blood club. Though none of that bothered Flynn, because the results would be the same. Odds were stacked in her captors’ favor, for Flynn would be outnumbered and ambushed the second he stepped a toe inside to retrieve the female.
Did it matter to him that he might be within minutes of losing his life?
Nah.
Nightmares of death never fazed Flynn, he’d already lived them firsthand.
That female, however, mattered to Flynn and his Beta Beast in a way he’d never known. And he wasn’t going anywhere until he had her wrapped up nice and tight in the safety of his arms. Right after, that is, he tore out the throats of her captors with his canines.
He reached the back of yet another building, this one of stone. Flynn was certain the female was hidden in the corner and possibly down on the bottom floor.
Sprinting around to the left side, he heard voices as he eased down an exterior stairwell that led to the basement.
“Did you hear anything?” a male asked.
“For fuck’s sake,” the other spat, “the Vojaks are long gone.”
Flynn reached the bottom and ducked when a shadow passed across the small, square window at the top of the door.
“Those American vamps? They don’t take shit, not even from Gryphs. So when our Vun is back in one piece, I’ll — ”
“Enough! We’ve a plane waiting on the tarmac either way.”
If only Flynn could stick around long enough to know where the plane was headed. That bit of intel would propel their Joint Faction investigation into next year, sparing them months of intelligence gathering and probably some lives.
“You’ll see how proficient Edik is,” the other one laughed, “after his Vun comes in swinging those Vojaks’ heads from his claws.”
Flynn wouldn’t be so sure about that.
Cocking his head, he listened for more. He counted four males, two vampires — whose hearts beat like Species, and two humans — whose hearts beat like trapped rabbits.
Slowly, Flynn stood, thinking odds were now in his favor. Two humans couldn’t do shit to him after he disarmed their weapons. Two Species could hardly take down one werewolf, if said werewolf threw himself into full transformation. So considering Flynn was a Beta Beast?
Yeah, they’d be sorry they ever touched a female on his watch.
Flynn checked the door to see if it was warded.
Nope.
Dumb, arrogant males…
He waved a hand over the knob, disengaging the tumblers, just as a sheet of rain mixed with sleet hit his back. After that, a strong gust of wind swirled through the stairwell, stirring up debris and rattling the square window with a natural distraction. Flynn eased open the door and stepped in the dank mustiness of a basement storeroom.
Keeping his head low, he blurred halfway across the floor in werewolf speed before two bullets blew past his ears.
“Don’t move!”
Humans watch way too much television, was Flynn’s first thought. Then, his second thought didn’t matter much, because he released his Beta Beast.
A warning roar erupted from his chest, shattering all the glass in the basement, as the seams popped in his heavy coat to allow for his expanding body.
Three breaths in, one slow exhale.
Claws sprung from his fingertips.
Three breaths in, one slow exhale.
Canines shot from his gums, sliding over his lower lip.
Three breaths in, one slow exhale.
His eyes flared like laser beams, giving away his exact location inside the blackness of the basement. But he couldn’t help that anymore than Flynn could stop another earsplitting roar that was the calling card of his fucked up werewolf — a creature even his brother Bane would no longer run alongside in the marsh, during full moon.
When his werewolf locked eyes on the humans, Flynn lifted his hands and yanked them off their feet with a mere thought. The men flew feet first and slammed into the wall behind him. There was no need for him to stop and check for life. His Beta Beast hadn’t left anyone alive for more than ninety years.
He surged forward, going back into werewolf speed. The Beta knew exactly where the female was, even if she hadn’t been screaming for her life, and stopped right before the locked door that she huddled behind.
“Mine!” he roared.
How dare they keep her from him!
Reaching out with his senses, he spotted the ward which spelled the door even as his hand met the freezing metal. The damn spell was so intricate that Flynn would need at least a half an hour to unweave it. Without a single minute to spare, however, need forced Flynn’s hand.
“Step away from the door!” he barely gritted out beneath the rumbling growl of his werewolf.
“O-okay!
F
lynn lifted his heavy arms, both rippling with celestial power, and slammed them with all of his might. It blasted off its hinges, screws and bolts clanking across the damp concrete, and embedded into the far wall.
Passing the threshold, the ward he hadn’t the time to unweave slammed him in the chest, rolling and unfurling inside Flynn until he stumbled. He coughed a long moment, even wheezed as something dark floated in his line of sight, coming straight at him.
Another living ward?
But then… nothing. Apart from the clipped footfalls of two Species vampires heading down the stairwell.
His werewolf’s eyes lit up the utility room, illuminating cerulean over crates and sheet-covered furniture. Then, he spotted what he had come for. Her. Poor thing was hovering in the corner, holding her trembling arms over her tiny head.
“Won’t hurt you.”
She peeked beneath her arm, tears filling her cornflower blue eyes. “You’re a monster… like the rest of them.”
Yes, he was. And he hadn’t the time to soothe her, to gentle her to his Beta’s touch. He’d get to that later, though. When he secured her in the safety of his den. “Come to me, female,” he called to her. “Hurry.” He crooked a finger, his claws gleaming within the glow of his irises. “Time runs out.”
“Go away!”
From behind him, one of the vampires slammed something metallic into his back. Flynn whirled around just as an electrical jolt rumbled through his body, reawakening the dangerous ward resting within him. Coupled with the electricity, it rapidly grew into a monster within his Beta Beast, stretching and twisting its way into his werewolf.
Flynn threw out his arms, straightening his fingers and readying his claws.
“But you hit it with a Stavz!” one said.
“It’s a fucking werewolf!” He misted away, warning his friend as he vaporized. “Run!”
The other vampire didn’t make it before Flynn gripped his throat and tore out his esophagus. He kicked away the squirming body, the bastard still gasping for air, and turned back around to find his female skittering across the floor.
Narrowing his eyes, Flynn wondered if she intended to run. His Beta locked sight on her and inhaled deeply, thoroughly memorizing her scent from up close, in case she forced him to track her again.