by Colt, Shyla
The raw power radiating from Dregan nearly made her dizzy. The man was ancient. She closed her eyes, adjusting to the waves flowing freely from him.
“Rise, Crewe.”
“I apologize for our state. I did not realize you would arrive today.”
“That is as it should be. I wanted to see her in her natural state. She moved like one of us.”
“Yes.”
Her stomach clenched, and she bit the inside of her cheek as they discussed her as if she weren’t there. Their ways are not your own. She chanted the phrase in her head, keeping a tight grip on her emotions. Building an imaginary brick wall, she closed them in, clearing her face of the things she thought and felt. Channeling her best Resting Bitch Face, she focused on the conversation being held.
“Curious.” Dregan inhaled. “Her scent is odd. Not quite witch or vampire. Does she drink blood?”
She tensed.
“She has on occasion.”
So, we’re keeping our blood exchanges a secret.
“And it doesn’t make her ill?”
“I believe it helps her … mimic us.”
“Does she have fangs?”
“Not always.”
“She doesn’t like being spoken about instead of spoken to, Dregan,” the sultry voice said.
“Ah, I forgot how … independent witches can be. Rise, girl.”
She flinched at the command. Digging her teeth into the flesh of her tongue, she stood ramrod straight, arms at her side, hands fisted.
“Oh, Morena, you were right. Look at her. I can smell the anger from here. Spicy and cinnamon. She’s got a temper on her.” His voice was a dark purr some would find attractive. It made her want to claw his eyes out. Dregan was tall, broad, and bearded. Careful not to meet his gaze head-on, she took him in. His golden blond hair tumbled around his shoulders, and his beard was braided and adorned with silver beads etched in runes. He cut an imposing figure as he towered above her. His eyes were a dark blue, unlike anything she’d ever seen.
His companion was beauty personified. Thick black hair waved its way down her back and around a round face with high cheekbones, an upturned nose, and full lips painted a cabernet color. Long, dark lashes framed downturned black eyes. Her brown skin boasted Spanish descent along with her slight accent. Clad in a pair of black jeans, thigh high boots, and a black shirt, she looked runway ready.
“Blessed be, Nakeeta Alva.” Morena bowed slightly.
“Blessed be,” Keeta said softly, returning the gesture of respect.
“Polite. You’ve taught her well, Crewe.”
“Thank you, sire.”
“You can look at me, girl. I won’t be using any of my powers on you.” She met his cold gaze. “Our savior?” Doubt dripped from his tongue like acidic venom.
“So, they tell me.”
His eyes widened. “Impertinent.”
“Pardon me. Your ways are not my own. I am doing my best to be respectful, but I will not be cowed. I have left behind a life I worked hard to craft, changed the very core of my being, and I may well forfeit my life. I will not lose sight of who I am, too.”
“Rebellious,” he drawled.
“Honest and strong,” Morena remarked softly.
“Not sorry,” she said unapologetically.
“What are you doing?” Crewe’s panicked voice reached her.
“Being myself.”
“With all due respect, it’s tradition, separation, and misunderstandings that have landed us in this mess. Doing things the way we’ve always done them won’t fix the problem. I’ve been chosen to change everything, and that’s what I plan on doing.” ‘Whether you like it or not’ was inferred, though she never said the words aloud.
Dregan’s nostrils flared, and his eyes took on a menacing expression that reminded her of the berserkers of lore. His eyebrows came together, and his thin lips curled up into a sneer.
“Suddenly you’re the messiah for the races?”
“I didn’t ask for this. I was given the task, and I’ll be damned if I fail. There’s no pride involved. Only the desire for survival.” She kept her tone as even as possible as she delivered the information factually.
“She’s right,” Morena said softly. “This is about more than which race is more powerful or refined. She’s caught in the middle of things she didn’t cause. Anger is not to be taken out on her.” Her words appeared to penetrate his anger. Who is this woman?
His lids lowered, shutting down the simmering rage. “You’re right, of course. Old habits, they die hard. We must come together because the alternative is unthinkable.”
Dregan didn’t apologize, but she hadn’t expected him to. Instead, they formed a tentative truce.
“Show me what you’ve learned.”
She glanced down at Crewe. “Now?”
“Is there a better time?” He pulled the Medieval broadsword from his scabbard.
“Sire—” Crewe began.
“You won’t always be there to run interference,” Dregan said, silencing him before he could speak further.
Morena handed her a sword, and she tested the weight, familiarizing herself with a few strikes as she took the proper stance.
“You look the part,” Dregan observed. “Now let’s see if you have any skills.” He moved like a snake, striking out with precision and speed. Her sword scarcely blocked his. She thrust forward, only to catch air as he danced away. His movements were too fast for the human eye to track, but she could see the blur. She stepped back on her left foot, turning her body to avoid his attack. Her blood boiled. Dregan meant to land a blow. He had age and skill on his side. I’d best even the odds. She upturned the earth. Dregan stumbled, and she swung her sword. He barely avoided her thrust as he leapt away.
A whirling attack of blades, heavy blows, and skillful thrusts forced her on a defensive run. She’d poked the bear, and he was responding in anger. He brought his sword down. She blocked. The momentum behind the blow brought her to her knees. Her arms shook. Solis. A brilliant flash of sunlight made him cry out. Dropping his sword, he covered his eyes. She scrambled away. It was enough to shock him, without injuring. He turned his red eyes to her, and the sight of his elongated fangs woke true fear.
The predator came to life before her eyes. His fangs dripped with saliva, and his height seemed to grow. Her heart thudded in her chest. Tossing the sword to the ground, she lifted her hands. Magic crackled between her fingers. The bluish-green glow comforted her. She had the means to defend herself. The beast inside of her roared, and she hissed.
“By Odin’s Beard. Her eyes,” Dregan mumbled. The wards screamed a warning as they were rent open, and a flaming ball of red energy hit the ground inches from where she stood. The explosion threw up dirt and grass. Knocked off her feet, she tucked and landed in a roll as muscle memory took over. Coming to a stop, she dug her fingers in the ground.
“We’ve been followed!” Morena cried. A blast of dark energy swept her off her feet. Smoke flooded the space, obscuring the ground, making it harder to distinguish friend from foe. She could smell a mix of vampires, witches, and … Her nose twitched. Wolves!
“What’s happening?” She sent the panicked words through their link.
“An ambush.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.” His hand grabbed hers. “We leave now, alone. I won’t trust the wrong person.” She cried out as a dark shape dive bombed him. His fist smashed into the wolf’s face, sending it flying.
“At my back.” She pressed her back to his, hands up and ready. Somnum. A bolt of energy and a sharp command stopped an overeager wolf in his tracks. He slumped to the ground, unconscious. Air circulation cut off as an invisible hand grasped her around the throat and squeezed. Her fingers dug into thin air instinctively as she battled the spell. Breaking the hold, she sucked in air. Slammed into from the side, she hit the ground hard enough to see stars. Spells were flung from every angle, giving her no time for recovery.
She
struggled to raise a shield spell as the wolves converged. A brilliant red flame surrounded her, setting the ground around her ablaze that erupted into a wall of flame. Shielded, she sought the source of the magic.
“Stay away from my mate.”
“Crewe!” A sonic boom made her clutch her ears. The flames died down, and her jaw dropped. Enemies littered the ground.
“We leave now.” Crewe drew her into her arms and leapt into the air. A scream spilled free from her lips as they took to the sky. Wrapping her legs and arms around him tightly, she buried her face in his neck.
“You can fly?”
“Apparently, I as you kids say, leveled up.”
“This is the first time you’ve done this?” Even through their mental link, her voice sounded shrill.
“Would you rather be back there in battle?”
“No.” She’d never hated his ability to sound calm and collected more. “Where are we going?”
“As far as I can manage to take us and then we’ll stop and rest, and you’ll perform a spell to prevent me from being tracked. Now, be quiet so I can concentrate.”
She mentally slammed her mouth shut. The last thing she needed to do was end up in the middle of the ocean in the dark.
* * *
CREWE
He brought them down in a hilly countryside devoid of buildings. She’d fallen asleep against him mid-flight. He’d seen powerful masters able to take to the skies, but he’d never imagined he would possess the skill. They had yet to speak of it, but he’d worked magic. When he’d seen her about to get attacked, a flip had switched on inside of him. Power, unlike anything he’d experienced before surged up and out. It seems I’m not the only one who’s been changed by our exchanges. Trailing his fingers across her cheek, he bent down and kissed her forehead. One more moment of peace, before reality.
Settling her in her his lap, he nuzzled her neck, inhaling her scent, and reminding himself why he’d left his sire to fight alone on the battlefield. He didn’t want to believe Dregan would betray them, but Kazimir had warned him not to trust anyone. So far he’d been proven honest.
“Mmmhmm.”
“Time to wake up. We have spells to cast, and people to outrun.”
Her eyelids fluttered open. She jerked, looking around.
“We’re on the ground.”
“Oh, thank you, Jesus.”
“Was the flight that bad?”
“No, but as it was your first, I felt like a crash test dummy.”
“I would never let you fall.” He brushed his lips with hers. “Dregan can track me through our bond.”
“And I need to block that.” She sat up straight, wiggling in his lap until her legs lay on either side of his thighs. Cupping his face, she rested her forehead against his and hummed as she slipped into his mind and traveled along their bond. “Show me.” He led her to the link that bound him to his adopted sire. The dark red cord pulsed with life. She placed her hand on it and began to sing as she drew a triangle over the link, infusing it with her power. She drew a block inside of the triangle and turned the colorful neon green symbol left three times. Lifting her hand, she slammed her palm flat onto the block.
Shuddering, he felt the instant sense of being alone. The bond had connected him to the others of his line.
“Are you okay?” She leaned back.
“Yes. It’s … disorienting. I’ll be fine.” He could feel the pull of the sun. “We must seek shelter. The sun will rise in three hours.”
“What do we do?”
“First, we need to figure out where we are. I may have friends willing to help.”
“Won’t they tell Dregan?” she whispered.
“Not everyone answers to a sire. Many vampires prefer to act as lone wolves. Connected to the community, but beholden to no one.”
“Isn’t that lonely?”
He rose, placing her on her feet. “No. They have friends, but their allegiances are to themselves.” He took her hand. “Come.” Entwining their fingers, he led her toward the sleeping minds he sensed in the distance. Slipping in past their nonexistent mental defenses he found a location. “We’re in the city of Rye in East Sussex.”
“What should we do?”
“I know someone. I apologize for what comes next, but it’s a necessary evil. Where we’re going, knowing what you are would be dangerous.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the underground. You’ll need to pose as my blood slave.”
She pulled away. “No.”
He grabbed her wrist and squeezed. “They would sell you to the highest bidder, and I shudder to think what that person would do to you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“What do I need to do?”
“Don’t ask questions, pretend to be in a daze, and keep your ears peeled for danger. Save the communication for our bond.”
“And if someone approaches me?”
He growled at the thought. “I’ll handle that.”
“Okay.” She sounded shell-shocked.
“I know a lot has happened, but I will get us through this.”
She nodded.
“Come. We have no time to waste.” He scooped her into his arms and took off toward the market. Under the slumbering city, a world was alive with action. Trading of spells, hexes, and blood exchange were among a few of the hot commodities available. They were outcasts. People who lived as they chose in lieu of the way society suggested they behave. Much like the human society, they had their quirks and versions of right and wrong. He clutched Keeta to his side as they traversed the dark pathways.
They entered the bustling market. Stalls filled the rows. Witches with dried herbs displayed their wares beside vampires with blood on ice in IV bags. In the center on stage, men and women were auctioned off. Vampires waved their number as a lithe blonde turned slowly. Her fear was intoxicating. She trembled as the crowd salivated, and a bidding war began.
“What the hell is that?”
“Exactly what you think it is.” Crewe scanned the area in search of a familiar head of strawberry blond curls. He spotted his target. Slipping through the throng of people, he touched the vampire’s shoulder.
“Sandor.”
“Surely my ears deceive me. This cannot be Crewe I hear.” The man spun and smiled. His hazel eyes filled with mirth. He twirled the thin end of his mustache. “And yet look at you. With a special guest no less.”
“Everyone needs a break now and then, Sandor.”
“You’re a few millennia overdue if you ask me,” Sandor said silkily. He straightened the lapels of his gray suit. “What brings you here?”
“We need safe passage to America.”
Sandor nodded toward Keeta. “Steal her, did you?”
“It’s not my fault some people don’t recognize the goldmines they’re sitting on.” Crewe shrugged his shoulders, careful to keep his emotions hidden.
Sandor smirked. “She’s not your everyday blood slave I take it?” His eyes darkened, and he licked his lips.
Crewe bared a bit of fang. “No. She’s mine. We both know I don’t share. So, you can understand why I’d like to get her,” he glanced around, “situated away from prying eyes.”
Throwing his head back, Sandor laughed. “When you break the rules, you certainly go all out. I do believe I owe you a favor. Come, let us make arrangements.” He strode away and gestured for them to follow. Crewe casually observed the crowd, careful not to draw attention to himself, while keeping his guard up. It’d be the last place he was expected, but news could travel fast. The farther away from the crowd they got, the more he relaxed. They wound their way through a labyrinth of stone passageways until they reached a wooden door. He tapped a series of rhythmic knocks, and it opened.
“If you want to travel incognito, the first thing you must do is get out of those rags. I don’t judge, but I do speak the truth.” Sandor swept his arm toward the entryway, bidding them enter. Crew stepped through first, stunned b
y the fully furnished living room complete with a comfortable couch, fifty-inch flat screen television, expensive artwork, and wooden tables.
“One needs a plethora of hidey holes when the sun is unkind,” Sandor explained with a shrug.
“Venett.” He nodded his head at Sandor’s partner in crime. The dark-haired vampire with Betty Paige bangs, and a slinky black dress resembled a Gothic teen. It was the perfect guise for the centuries-old vampire.
“Crewe.”
“Can you assist his … guest, Venett?” Sandor asked.
Her nose twitched, and her eyes turned red.
“Fangs to yourself, dear one. I know she’s mouthwatering, but she’s not for us.”
Venett pouted. “Pity. We’ll get you cleaned up, dressed to impress, and on a private jet in no time, darling.”
“And should anyone ask after me?” Crewe said before she could walk away.
“Who’d believe you were in the underground for anything other than work, Crewe? Your secret shall remain safe with us,” Venett replied.
“My word is never questioned here. You know that.” Sandor waved his hand dismissively. Here he was king.
Keeta glanced at him. “Should I go with her?”
“Go. You’ll be safe.”
She followed the female vampire back into their rooms.
Crewe nodded. “My thanks, old friend.” He clapped his hand.
Sandor grinned. “I rather like this rebellious streak you’ve discovered. I want to see how it will play out.” He sat down in a leather lazy boy and crossed his leg over his knee.
“Still as wicked as ever,” Crew mused.
“You say the nicest things.” Sandor beamed. “Your pretty little blood donor oozes power.”
“She does,” he agreed, giving away nothing more.
“Keeping your cards close to your sleeve, are you? Curious.” Sandor tapped a finger to his cheek.
Crewe shrugged. “Says the man with a million secrets.”
“You never fail to play the game well. It’s a pity you won’t join us down here. You could have a good, lucrative life.”
