Captiva Craving

by Talyn Scott

  “Don’t…just don’t.” Sixten placed his hands on Kash’s shoulders. He could kill quite easily, so thoughtlessly, yet this was his friend speaking in a way warriors never wanted to, baring his vulnerability for another to witness. “You admitted she was a total knockout. A vision you want in your bed, yes, it's understandable for any male. Additionally, you tasted her, you long for Blythe’s blood, her flavor. Remember, she’s addictive to those of us who aren’t Dynasty Vampyrs?” Kash was one of the few real friends whom he had left, and he would fight his anger, his possessiveness, the best he could. However, Sixten had recently threatened the Beta of the North American Pack at a faction meeting, meaning anything could happen in his current mental state. “You’re confused, wanting her as a blood pet,” he placated more for himself than Kash. “That’s all. It’s natural to our kind, and my friend, as a vampire…I understand that kind of need.” At least, he was trying to.

  “That’s what I keep telling myself.” He shrugged off Sixten’s touch, his boots hitting the concrete as he walked his bedroom floor. Oycher stopped trying to pretend he was not listening, watching them intently instead. Kash picked up a bath towel Blythe had used, lifting it to his face. After a deep inhale, he said, “All the times I dicked around with the werewolves and mocked them to their faces because they shared mates…I mean, sandwiching a bar chippie or a decent bout of group sex has its place. But for mates?” He fisted his hand. “Never. You don’t treat a mate that way, right? Yeah, well, the werewolves used to puzzle me.”

  “They’ve got the sex down. That's for sure,” Oycher piped in.

  He and Kash turned to stare at him.

  “What?” Oycher shrugged. “I’ve partied with a few of their unmated.” He checked his watch, glancing back up at them. “Three instead of two, it’s pretty tight, yeah? However, I wasn’t in love with any of them. I’m guessing that would make quite the difference in satisfaction.”

  Sixten shook his head and turned back to Kash. “Out with it.”

  “That night the werewolves cornered us at your manse here on Captiva, and I threatened them. It felt too personal for me. And minutes later, when I walked in on you and Blythe going at it…,” he trailed off, clutching the towel before he placed it on his dresser, somewhat reverently. “The werewolves don’t seem entirely weird anymore…or desperate.”

  “Kash…no.”

  “I told myself,” he spoke over Sixten, “that it wasn’t happening. I don’t stab fellow warriors or friends in the back. You hear me?”

  “I’ve never known you to.”

  “You walked through years of hell to get Blythe to trust you again, especially after all the stops that your brother pulled to keep you two apart. Him making her think you cheated on her. And the stunts her brother pulled, his guilt is calling from the grave, and Vojaks haven’t cleared any ground as far as Anthony’s involvement is concerned.”

  “Answers will come,” said Sixten cautiously. “We haven’t had a lot of time on our hands.

  Kash ran his hand through his hair, the light shading the bronze in cast relief. “Dealing with those two bozos coupled with your past, isn’t that enough? So why should I get in between you and Blythe?” He spun around, glaring at Sixten with glowing, purple eyes. Angry a male of his stature had to put it on the line, his Species flaring with indignation. “I’m a warrior, a privileged male of our race who fights to the death to protect those who aren’t strong enough to do so for themselves. God, for centuries I’ve handed immortal men their own asses, shoved their balls down their dying throats without breaking a sweat or ruffling my conscious in any way. No regrets. Never any second thoughts. If something hurts too much, Vojaks say, turn up the volume. Pain molds us into truer males.” An age-old statement, warriors never softened. Time sharpened their game, honing cunning killing machines desperately needed to keep lines drawn between humans and creatures that are more powerful. “So why am I not strong enough to walk away from her?”

  “You are strong enough. Besides, if she were your Bride,” Sixten argued, his claws threatening to extend, “you would have sensed it immediately.

  “How are you staying so calm right now?” He asked heatedly, refusing to acknowledge Sixten’s point. “I said that I wanted your mate, going on about it like a talking pussy.”

  “Honestly? I don’t feel threatened by you.” Sixten thought about it. “Are you challenging me for her?”

  “No.”

  Not yet was what Sixten heard. “I’ll admit that I’m unfolding, Kash, spinning into something I cannot understand because I’ve lost her. The words you’re saying….let's Let's just say I’m hoping you’ll snap out of it.” His fangs were not punching down, which would denote his vampiric need to tear out Kash’s throat, but there was his sneaky shifter side to consider. After sensing his inner Habaline inside the Marco Island tunnel, he did not want to break free so close to his own people. That internal fucker could pop up any second with a hefty load of gloom and doom. “Soon, my friend,” he said softly, though the words held an undeniable threat, sharp as any razor. “Let’s hope you snap out of it soon.”

  “Hope won’t get me there.” His lip curled. “There’s nothing you can say or do, Six. Since I found out she was taken, I’m fucked up. This twisting pain,” he said, patting his chest, “grows every minute she stays away. It’s a waking nightmare, gnawing on my fraying nerves, imagining what she must be going through right now. And I’m not there to protect her.” He kicked one of Blythe’s bags out of his way, its scent laden with Habaline mixed blood. “You’re smart enough to believe my pansy-ass feelings aren’t out of sympathy and concern over you and your situation. They’re over me and my situation.” He hissed in the way of vampires. A sound one never wanted to hear on a lonely street corner. “I’m here without her.”

  “Silly me,” his voice dripped with strangled sarcasm, “I thought I only had to worry about Ryan.” And every male who passed her on the street and drooled over her calendar girl body.

  “You know you don’t have to worry about anyone else. She only loves you, Six.” He laughed, but it was a hollow laugh, one tainted with loneliness and a heavy dose of bitterness. “Ryan? Yeah, I’m told Ryan is in love with the past, but Blythe never shared those sentiments with him. Did she?”

  “No, she didn’t.” Sixten added, “At least, not those pesky passionate ones.”

  Kash seemed thoughtful. “Remember at Centennial Park, when you asked me if I ever loved?”

  “Yeah, days ago, but it feels like years. Long ones.”

  “I said that I hadn’t found my Bride yet, and you told me you couldn’t have a given Bride,” Kash said, “but you could choose your destiny.”

  “I remember.”

  “Give me one good reason why I cannot choose mine.”

  Right off the top of his head, Sixten could give him a hundred reasons. But he could no longer deal with Kash’s confessional. He just wanted his Blythe back. And killing his friend over vampiric territorialism was something he didn’t want to live with, but he couldn’t deny a sudden spike in his blood. A caution aimed specifically for Kash. “Might I remind you of something? That day I caught you telling Oycher that Blythe had the prettiest pussy you’d ever seen, I nearly killed you.” His irises glittered, the glow bouncing off the shadowed walls. “Just for those words, Kash, you almost died that day.”

  “I deserved no less for describing her beautiful body to another male.”

  “Six, anyone would know she’s beautiful everywhere,” Oycher added, trying to help but that statement was not going to cut it.

  Sixten pushed his chest into Kash’s, saying, “And I was too lenient with you.” His fangs punched down, so he bared them. “Way too lenient.”

  “Childish behavior,” Kash admitted. “I was beyond pissed, acting like a jealous youngling. You had me push through that fraudulent marriage certificate with the human court system downtown. I wondered why my name couldn’t be there, too, claiming her the way human males do.�
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  “Why now?” He wondered again. “I cannot fathom why you’re telling me this now?”

  “How many years were you half-alive before meeting Blythe?” He answered a question with a question. “Can you even remember? Centuries?”

  Sixten realized Kash would never go philosophical on him unless. “You cannot be…shit…you’re not really in love with her.” Every part of his body went numb. “That’s not even possible…even when Ryan said it…I knew it wasn’t true.”

  “Because I’m a pureblood, and she isn’t my Bride?” Kash shrugged, pushing Sixten off his chest.

  “My father didn’t feel the drive to claim my mother for years, and they grew up in the same village. They were nearly a century old before it happened,” offered Oycher as he pocketed his phone after reading a text. “No matter what we were always told about instant love and Brides, it didn’t happen instantly for them. Considering Dad is a pureblood Vojak, and Mom is a pureblood Species, that’s one hell of an inscription for the ancient tomes.” A Species could only procreate with his given Bride, and supposedly, could love just her.

  “Maybe we really can love other females.” Kash said, giving Sixten a look he knew far too intimately, and it stunned him more than any words. “Or maybe, I’m one of the few who didn't answer the call right away, like Ocher’s father. What if she’s mine, Six, and I’m just put off by your marking…by her innocent blood you shed with her initial claiming.”

  “We haven’t any more time for this.” Six declared wearily, tired of waiting for the others to show up. He made the decision to hunt alone, heading for the door.

  “Time,” repeated Kash from behind him, “Since I’ve made this admission to you. It’s best if I don’t waste any more time, Six.” Kash reached for his black, leather duster and stuffed it with more blades. “I won’t fight you over a claim you’ve already made, or your Species marking I witnessed for myself. Or even that bogus marriage certificate of yours.” Sixten turned away from the door just as Kash pointed an index finger in the general vicinity of his face. “But when we find her, and we will. Blythe know exactly how I feel. Sure, I’ll give her a while to recuperate from her abduction before speaking with her. I’m not that callous. Although… I will not hide what I feel from her. That would be the same as lying, yeah? I will help her, protect her, and be there for her. Whether you like it or not, Six, you feel me? At the very least, I will provide for her.”

  “I see.” Something rushed through every cell in Sixten’s body. Maybe it was adrenalin, but he doubted it was that simple. “And what happens if you are wrong, and you do meet your Bride one day?”

  “There are…ways.”

  “Unattainable and impossible,” Sixten said, not believing what Kash was willing to give up.

  “You know that’s a lie.” He leaned against the wall, crossing one booted ankle over the other. A pure blood Vampyr Vojak who would be a threat to any immortal by his mere presence, one confident in his own skin, but he didn’t threaten Sixten in the least. “I give my oath as a Vojak that I will not interfere with your relationship, and I will never try to break you two apart. Never. I don’t want that, man. Even so, you will not catch me backing down from her. My Species is in accordance.”

  “Your funeral.”

  “If that’s the case, you should hold off until after I help you find her.”

  “And then I should kill you?”

  “Or we could…work something out,” he said in a low rumble, staring at Sixten in a way where everything disappeared around them, “just like the Beasts and some of our own do.”

  His lips parted, but it took a couple of seconds before anything coherent came out. “I think standing next to that bed.” Sixten pointed without taking his eyes from his friend. “And smelling her sex is making us think things we shouldn’t.”

  “Thinking things…like becoming a real family.” With a single, graceful slide known only to vampires, Kash drew closer. “I could see us making it work.”

  They stared at each other a few quiet minutes before Qudir came in, breaking the silence. “Let’s get to more pressing matters, ladies. Kash, there wasn’t a single Vojak killed, though we initially thought so?” With his shoulder hitched to the door and one foot inside Kash’s room, he tapped his other booted foot irritably. “Anyone on the Species side reported dead?”

  “Three civilian females and two soldiers were taken down during the street fight around Six Feet Under. All are becoming Undead as we speak.” Kash leaned around Sixten, following the change of subject quite smoothly. “I’m told none of the Vojaks who were Stavzed will die.” A Stavz was the weapon of choice for the Vojaks. It rearranged the innards of the offending creature in such a vile manner, that it took no less than three excruciating days to recover from one blast. “All are painfully recovering while Dr. Dru Holt watches on in helpless horror,” Kash added, while lifting his phone from his pocket and checking an incoming text.

  “None of this makes sense.” Sixten walked to a side cabinet and pilfered some of Kash’s blades. Sliding them anywhere that he didn't already cram a weapon.

  Kash’s lips twisted as he raised an arm, running long fingers through his coppery spikes. “Enough of them blast in here to take out no less than fifty Vojaks, all for Blythe.”

  “So, at least, we’re on that page together.”

  “Everyone’s on that page, though they’re not saying it,” Oycher said, sidling next to Qudir. Though the room was spacious, four large and powerful creatures shrank it considerably. “Shifters killed no one here. They took nothing from our Sanctuary, apart from Blythe. Am I convinced it’s because she was a Donor, and they wanted her to feed from? Hell, no. Why would many risk their deaths over one feeder?”

  “Not logical,” Sixten agreed. “But, at the moment, I have nothing else to consider.” After getting back together with Blythe, he had promised himself not to harbor regrets. And at times like these, it was fucking hard not to. Like a broken record, every damned thing, he did wrong with Blythe played across his mind in a perpetual loop.

  “Anthony,” offered Kash.

  “Yeah, something to do with her worthless brother…,” Oycher muttered, rubbing his fingers over his chin.

  “Fact: We know he was involved with the shifters,” Qudir cut in. “Yet we have no clue what role he played.”

  “Enough for Poison, one of Rave’s right hand thugs, to take out Anthony before he delivered any worthy intel,” Sixten replied, adding a gun to the back of his waistband and loathing the empty ache deep inside his chest. His poor Blythe was somewhere dealing with God knows what, while grieving her assoholic brother.

  “Oycher, you went over Anthony’s hard-drive again?”

  “Yeah.” He pulled out copies from his coat. “I made enough of these to circulate. I gave a few to Rock, he and his team are going over them. All pics are headshots of beautiful women, nothing creepy or vulgar…just women, including Blythe.”

  “I thought you said there was one male,” Qudir interrupted.

  “True.” His ocher eyes returned to Qudir when he continued, “A young male who appeared to be in his early twenties. Quite likely immortal, although that’s not saying much, considering we all appear under the human age of thirty. And It’s hard to classify any of them as human without scent, but the only male looked like he might belong somewhere around the bloodlines of Dr. Dru’s co-mate.”

  “Arian?” Kash asked.

  “Is that his name?”

  “He’s Norwegian Royal descent,” Kash went on. “Powerful mofo you’d best not piss off, and he’s in his early twenties.”

  “He has brothers?”

  “Yeah,” Kash answered, “loads, though I’ve only seen a few in this area.”

  “Brothers,” Sixten interjected with a snarl. “Get this. The Beta’s brothers or possibly cousins were at the meeting tonight, as though they were faction leaders with a place at our table. Ruyters are after my mate, claiming they arrived in America solely to find h
er.”

  “The Pack still knows more than they’re giving up,” Qudir hissed in the way of vampires, holding up his copy of the hard drive between his strong fingers. “Something tells me we have to figure this one out long before the werewolves do.”

  “But first,” Maestru said, finally joining them. “What’s really going on, Six? And leave out all the bullshit you spoon fed the werewolves during your so-called astronomy lesson.” He held up his copies, all made from the ancient Habaline scrolls just shared by the North American Pack.

  “I know the Habalines point of entry,” Sixten answered when all eyes flipped to him, one of the few important facts he didn’t share during their faction meeting. “If we’d had those scrolls, their maps sooner, we’d be in far better shape than we are now.”

  “So by reading these,” Oycher started with open astonishment. “You’re telling us that you know where Habalines come from?”

  “And the werewolves don’t,” Qudir cut in.

  Sixten had always known where the other half of his ‘family’ had come from; however, until now, their mode of transportation was a well-guarded secret. The werewolves knew they had been sitting on a valuable piece of information, though they did not know the extinct of its worth. Until they found someone to translate fully, Sixten had the drop on all factions. “Wormhole,” he said simply.