She felt Samuel stiffen, his chest expanding as though struggling to control his temper. Abby pushed against his torso, and he let her slide to her feet. Unwinding her hair, he caught her nape, keeping her close.
Abby smoothed her blouse at the waist, tugged on the hem of her shorts, and cleared her throat. She met the concerned girl’s gray eyes evenly. Seeing the situation from the witch’s point of view, Abby imagined finding a human-looking woman in white being embraced in an empty hallway by a large Ferwyn male wearing black could be misread.
“I’m good,” she said, hoping to reassure her.
The Anwyll stood her ground. Against a Clan príoh. Abby was duly impressed with her devotion to the sisterhood.
“Come on, Scarlett,” one of her companions whined. “The guys are waiting, and she said she’s good.”
“Beyond good, if you ask me.” Another girl giggled. She covered her mouth when a snort escaped, which sent the humans into a riotous bout of laughter.
“Seriously, go have fun,” Abby encouraged the pretty blond witch. “I appreciate your concern, but I am safe with him.” Safe from physical harm at least. Her heart was another matter.
Scarlett gave Samuel a last she better be glare and left with her friends.
“Well.” Abby didn’t know what to say now that they were alone again. The wayward emotions the commander stirred inside her wouldn’t settle.
“You should return to the queen.” He squeezed her neck and released her.
“Right.”
“I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” was her brilliant response.
“Okay.” He dropped a surprisingly tender kiss on her forehead and walked away.
Abby watched him go. She pressed her fingertips to her mouth; it felt wonderfully swollen.
“It was just a kiss,” she said, licking lips that continued to tingle. “Right. Keep telling yourself that Abigail Colleen and maybe you’ll convince yourself it’s true.”
Taking a rickety breath, she tried to calm a heart that refused to resume its normal rhythm and stepped toward the lady’s room. Her legs wobbled.
Chapter 13
It was those damn shorts.
Samuel slammed the club’s office door and removed the rubber earplugs every noise-sensitive Touched wore during operating hours, tossing them carelessly onto the desk. He was acting irrationally, blaming a pair of mouthwatering legs, and his semi-dulled hearing for being caught unawares by a group of college kids.
Admittedly, he’d been distracted, but wasn’t he the commander of four fucking states for a reason? He wasn’t supposed to be ruled by rampaging emotions or his wolf screaming at him to mate. His finely-honed reflexes had taken over when Abby ran from him like prey. His mind short-circuited, his only thoughts to chase and to claim.
Walking around the cluttered workspace, he threw himself into the leather seat. He was still hard, his arousal only partly tamped down by the witch’s interruption. And though he could appreciate the Anwyll’s concern—her timing was for shit.
Samuel had been one-hundred-percent lost in the moment, wanting to bury himself inside Abby’s sweet little body so badly he’d forgotten they were standing in a dingy hallway with no guarantee of privacy. In front of the ladies’ bathroom no less. It was as though nothing else mattered except tasting her. Touching her. Breathing in the heady scent of her skin.
He was supposed to be leaving her alone for now…wasn’t he?
Abby didn’t want a life on the island. Had yet to accept her heritage. Still denied the truth that the queen—the prince—would never allow her to play human for anyone else.
Yet Samuel couldn’t seem to stop himself. Everything about the beautiful halfblood called to him. The quiet strength which belied the delicateness of her body. Compassion for others that shone brightly despite knowing life’s cruelty. Kindness at the cost of unimaginable pain. And an unmistakable fear that she veiled with refined manners, a soft voice, and a backbone of steel.
But his duty was to the queen. Pursing Abby wasn’t in the plan, at least not until he discovered who was trying to kill Rose and why.
Well, hell! Scrubbing his hands through his hair, he attempted to get his mind and body under control.
The message to meet his sister came shortly after arriving at the club, and he didn’t dare deny the request. Sarah was weakening faster than expected, the total devastation from the betrayal of her Ca’anam tearing her apart. She was wasting away right before Samuel’s eyes and there wasn’t much he could do about it. Noah was a comfort to her, but rage at his sire’s abandonment was hard to mask. If James didn’t return soon…
His jaw hardened. No, he wouldn’t think that way. They’d find James, and if he wouldn’t come willingly, Samuel would drag him home. Sarah would thrive again. No other result was acceptable. He wasn’t giving up on his sister, and Noah sure as hell wasn’t losing his mother.
Shoving to his feet, he stomped from the room in time to see Abby disappear through the club’s double doors. He followed behind her, increasing his pace as she snaked through the crowd on the dance floor, gliding gracefully on heels so thin he wondered how her ankle didn’t break.
An Untouched stopped Abby with a hand on her arm, and he heard him ask her to dance. She shook her head and moved on. The rejected suitor’s eyes stayed glued to her softly swaying hips and slender legs showcased by the sinfully tight shorts as she walked away. Samuel wolf’s hackles rose, and he bumped into the man harder than necessary, his elbow finding its way to his gut.
“Asshole,” the guy said on a painful wheeze. “Watch it.”
Samuel stopped his pursuit long enough to cast glowing eyes on the indignant human.
The man held his palms up. “Whoa, we’re good,” he burst out, slinking to his table of friends.
Oblivious, Abby made it to the first platform and sidled up next to Johnnie at the bar. Samuel caught the auburn-haired Ferwyn’s eye, and she nodded in understanding. She’d watch over the halfblood. With Abby looked after, he headed to the prince’s private booth and joined the bickering monarchs.
“I will not hide, Myles,” Rose said heatedly. “I refuse to bow to intimidation.”
Her thlán clenched his teeth. “You make it sound as though we’re dealing with nothing more than a high school bully. Have you forgotten you were almost killed?”
“I have forgotten nothing.” Her eyes sparked in anger, the tips of her incisors making shallow impressions in her bottom lip. “I am the region’s queen and will never show weakness to our enemies.”
“We’re not even sure who those enemies are.” Myles was seething. “What if it is one of the Nine who sent the assassins?”
“That is unlikely,” she said, lifting her nose. “Samuel, inform my nephew that the odds a rival monarch is responsible are practically nonexistent. The political maneuverings for my death to be advantageous would be absurd. It would take a virtual destabilization of the entire Standish House for it to profit them.”
“I agree.” Samuel raised his hand to forestall the passionate argument about to explode from the prince. “In theory. But it can’t be ruled out. It was vampires who attacked you, and we haven’t established who they belonged to yet.”
“Yes,” Myles drawled. “It is…inconvenient your kind can’t identify a vampire’s House by scent as easily as you can a Ferwyn’s Clan.”
“I am sure they were nothing more than malcontents acting on their own.” Rose diligently studied her drink, reluctant to concede the issue graciously.
“Even if they went rogue by leaving their territory’s boundaries without permission, the patriarch or matriarch of that region would know five of their own were missing,” Samuel said, stating the obvious and ignoring the prince’s goading.
“And one is now dead. I assume we haven’t received any urgent calls about misplaced vampires who happen to be experts with a blade and dislike stubborn queens?” The sarcasm dripping from Myles’ query could’v
e been eaten with a spoon it was so thick.
“None of the other eight Dádhe Houses across the country have reported any runaways,” Samuel said without a hint of the prince’s mockery.
Rose’s mouth flattened into a grimace. “Someone is lying. I hate it when you are right.”
“I usually am,” Myles said, his expression smug. “So, you will restrict your movements to the island?”
“No.”
“Damn it, Rose.” The prince jumped to his feet.
“I refuse to cower, but I will take care. Abigail will be with me, and I promise to accept whatever safety measures the commander warrants without complaining.” Samuel’s face must have registered his dubiousness. “Much.”
Myles regained his seat, adjusting his fitted suit coat and tie before speaking again. “What guarantee do we have the Na’fhuil will react fast enough if Rose is threatened again?”
The prince’s doubts about Abby set Samuel’s teeth on edge. “She’ll do what she has to do. You can count on it.”
“I trust her,” Rose said without a hint of uncertainty.
“Well, I don’t. She’s a timid little thing and obviously weak-minded if she can’t handle a bit of pain.”
Samuel braced his fists on the table and got into the vampire’s face, breaking the prince’s personal bubble all to hell. “You have no clue what you’re talking about. She’s stronger than both of us put together. You didn’t see the agony Abby was in after using her magic.” He pushed himself away from the Dádhe, tempted to strangle him. “I did.”
“He is right, Myles. She was suffering horribly.”
He shrugged. “We’ll see.”
Samuel was about to say more when he sensed the female in question coming their way. The noise level and wall-to-wall crowd should have negated his acute awareness of her, but it didn’t. His body had attuned itself to her presence, and his wolf took notice.
Samuel clasped his hands behind him and searched for the addicting scent of wildflowers beneath her perfume to hit his nose.
“Sorry I was gone so long.” Abby avoided looking at him directly. “I saw Johnnie and wanted to say hello.” She slipped in next to the queen.
“That is fine, Abigail,” Rose said, taking a sip of her drink. “I do not expect us to be attached at the hip.” She glanced sharply at her nephew when it appeared he’d contradict her. “At least not when on ESC property.”
Abby set her clutch beside her beverage. The glass was ringed with colored sugar and filled with what appeared to be a strawberry daiquiri.
“Oh, did the waitress take my other drink?” Her pretty mouth turned down. “I hadn’t finished it.”
“I took the liberty of ordering you a fresh one.” The prince’s countenance was perfectly composed, but Samuel sensed something was off.
Abby lifted the cocktail, the rim of pink crystals nearing her lips.
Myles tracked its progress.
Samuel sniffed the air and lashed out, knocking the glass aside. Red liquor splashed Abby’s chest and doused her shorts. He heard her gasp in shock and the queen’s cry of dismay at his actions, but all he saw was the calm detachment of the prince.
“You sonofabitch.” Samuel grabbed Myles by the neck and shoved him against the upholstered wall.
Rose captured his wrist, trying to break the bruising hold on her heir’s throat. “What is going on?”
“I believe Commander Walker and I have differing opinions on tactics,” he answered, not even straining for breath.
“Tactics?” Samuel squeezed harder. “You spiked her drink.”
“I thought it necessary for insurance.”
His excuse infuriated Samuel more.
“Please, tell me you did not?” Rose asked, voice strident. Myles’ lack of fight should have assured her that he had.
“I don’t understand,” Abby said. Her white blouse was stained cherry, the silken material soaked. The tips of her blond hair were dark with moisture, plastered to her chest.
Vicky and Tucker came to investigate the disturbance, but Samuel’s stony glare had them rapidly retreating. “He put his blood in your drink.”
Abby’s fair complexion went white, her large eyes wide and filled with confusion. “Why would he do that?” She turned to the prince. “Why would you want me to drink your blood?”
“I assume he wanted to be assured of your loyalty,” the queen explained. “As Myles stated earlier, there is power in our blood. If you were tied to my line in some way, even without the oaths, maybe your reticence to use magic in my defense…”
“But I’m not Dádhe.”
Myles remained immobile, unquestionably sensing how close he was to having his throat shredded.
“A vampire’s blood can be used to compel.” Thick fangs filled Samuel’s mouth, distorting his speech. “Permanently in the Calling. Temporarily with Feeders.”
“It works on witches to a lesser degree, but shifters not at all as they are already bound to their Alphas. Of course, we have no idea how a Na’fhuil would react to the exchange,” Rose said.
“I see.” Abby picked at the drenched blouse, head hanging. Her lips trembled, and her shoulders sagged. “You’re right to be cautious. I tried to tell you before, but you didn’t want to listen.”
Samuel tightened his grip. “He will not force you to drink any vampire’s essence again.” The threat was clear.
“It is against our laws to influence another Fae Touched with magic without consent. I give you our promise it will not happen again.” Rose lifted her chin regally, the use of the royal plural binding Myles as securely as any magic-induced pledge. The queen cupped Abby’s downcast cheek. “I am truly sorry, Abigail.”
Samuel released the prince with one last snarl. Myles appeared completely unruffled, his smooth features expressing boredom.
Rose gathered napkins and dabbed at Abby’s ruined shirt. The queen was clucking over her assistant like a mother hen when the distinctive whomp of a massive electrical switch flipping pitched the room into total darkness.
Startled cries scattered across the building along with nervous laughter. The backup generators hummed loudly, struggling to engage. The overhead lights flickered. The nearby Guards gathered protectively around the queen.
Samuel’s pupils dilated. Shifters could see better in the dark than most humans but it wasn’t their strength. Tucker made a sound in his throat and pointed to the hundreds of small round objects raining from the ceiling.
The uneasy twittering of the crowd switched to shrieks as the shadowy forms hit the dance floor. Curses and screams accompanied gasps of shock. The spheres burst like water balloons, the liquid inside splattering everywhere. The odor of copper laced with licorice filled the air.
Human blood and Anwyll magic.
The fine hairs on Samuel’s neck rose. Witches again.
“Tucker, see if you can get the lights on. And send Hop to help protect Rose. Whatever is going on, it could be a diversion for another attempt on the queen.” It would be pure suicide with the thlán at his matriarch’s side and so many of the Walker Pack in attendance, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. “Abby…don’t move from this spot.” He emphasized his order by stabbing a finger at the floor.
The prince tipped the table on its side to use as a barrier. He pulled the females behind it and stood on the cushioned seat protectively. Rose’s and Myles’ fangs were visible, their eyes fiery red in the darkened room. Vampires had no problem seeing in the dark.
“Abby?” Samuel prompted impatiently.
“Got it.” Her disgruntled voice floated over the wooden barricade. The implied Do you think I’m stupid? verbally absent, but evident in her tone.
He didn’t care if Abby was angry, provided she stayed safe.
The unholy sound of dozens of Dádhe incisors snicking down reverberated throughout Chess. He could sense the vampires’ bloodlust, hear their hearts race in anticipation of the hunt. The urgent need to convert washed over him.
&nbs
p; “Change,” he roared, pushing all of his Alpha persuasion behind the call. It went out to every Ferwyn in the building and beyond.
His wolf came to the surface, Fae magic biting into his skin like the sting of a thousand bees. His bones softened and reshaped, knees and elbows twisted and popped. His jaw elongated, becoming a broad snout. Rippling waves of gold and umber fur overtook his tanned flesh. His hands and feet molded into large paws.
Shaking out the painful pins-and-needles sensation of magical backlash, Samuel hurtled the railings to the main level. He landed in the center of the dance floor’s bedlam. The generators finally kicked in, the dim illumination shedding a ghoulish glow on the surrounding chaos.
There were groups of humans slipping and sliding on the wet floor, rushing for the exits. Some huddled behind fully converted wolves who were snapping and snarling at the wild-eyed vampires. A blackish-red, oily substance coated the checkered cement and most of the patrons. Those wearing white looked as though they’d visited a slaughterhouse.
Across the room, he saw a woman in a Dádhe’s punishing hold, his mouth on her wrist. She was screaming in agony, the crazed vampire not bothering to alter her mind before biting deeply into her vein.
Johnnie appeared out of nowhere, her transformed claws ripping into the assailant’s back. The vampire shouted in pain, releasing his victim who collapsed into a graceless heap. Irate at the interruption of his feeding, he whirled and lunged at Johnnie.
Tucker’s massive gray wolf barreled into the Dádhe’s side, knocking him flat. The enraged beta dug his sharp nails into the vampire’s flesh and growled, teeth dripping with saliva inches away from his spine. Johnnie pulled at a handful of Tucker’s thick fur. He snarled in disapproval, but obediently moved his muzzle away.
Samuel witnessed the same scenario being replayed in every section of the club.
Small clusters of shell-shocked humans were protected from the rampaging vampires by the witches and shifters in the room. At least twenty Untouched were piled against the main entrance, their escape hindered by doors that presumably wouldn’t open.
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