by R. E. Butler
“Well, I’d have to agree with her there.”
“Yeah. Then my mom asked why I hadn’t managed to find my truemate when you basically stumbled and fell into yours.”
“Sorry?” he said with a laugh.
“Nah. It’s all good. I deflected by asking Aeryn why she hadn’t told Mom she went out on a date with a guy from one of her classes.”
“I bet that went over well with Aeryn.”
“Yeah, she threw a fork at me. But it worked, Mom’s full attention went to Aeryn and not her poor, unmated son.”
Cyrus looked around the kitchen. “It’s looking good.”
“We’re on track to finish on time, thankfully. Midas has a job lined up for when this is finished, and he wants me to be the manager.”
“That’s great, man. Congrats.”
“Thanks. It’s about time he realized my greatness.”
Cyrus shook his head with a laugh. He went over the notes with Gavin for the work that had been done during his shift and left him to finish out his day.
“Tell your mom and dad I said hi.”
“Sure thing. Take it easy.”
Cyrus met Merrix and the vampire crew in the back of the kitchen to share the tiger crew’s notes. Once everyone knew their assignments, Cyrus gathered tools for his assignment – installing the fixtures in the men’s restroom. The restroom was one of the nicest ones he’d ever seen. It was as ritzy as the rest of the place, all chrome and crystal, but managed to still maintain an edge of masculinity. As he shouldered the tool bag, he glanced at his phone to check the time, which as he always noticed, was not moving as fast as he’d like.
He emerged from the storage area that housed the tools, amid the hustle of the tigers leaving and the vampires arriving, catching a glimpse of Gavin who gave him a wave goodbye. Making his way through the kitchen, he headed toward the swinging door and paused. He smelled something unusual – a tiger he didn’t recognize.
He sniffed the air again, drawing on his cat’s keen sense of smell. He hadn’t imagined the scent. It was all over the door. But the scent had a strange hint of something “other” he couldn’t place. Almost as if it were artificial. Which didn’t make a lick of sense.
Feeling a bit like a bloodhound, he moved slowly through the kitchen, following the scent. It led to a ladder which hadn’t been put away in storage, but instead was leaning haphazardly against a row of stainless-steel counter tops. The fixtures had all been installed, so there was no reason for the ladder to be out.
Merrix appeared, strapping a tool belt around his hips.
“You see anyone new in here tonight?” Cyrus asked.
“Since I came on shift?”
Cyrus nodded.
Merrix looked thoughtful and then shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of, but I wasn’t really paying attention. Why?”
“I’m picking up a weird scent here, but it’s not a tiger I recognize.”
Cyrus put his hands on his hips and looked around the kitchen. Except for the ladder, nothing seemed out of place.
So why was he scenting someone he didn’t know?
“Do you know every tiger in your ambush by scent?” Merrix asked, brows raised.
“Yeah. Don’t you recognize the coven members by scent?”
“Hell no, there’s way too fucking many. I’d know the locals – the ones who live at the club or in the apartment complex where I live – but not any of the ones who don’t live around here. I mean, I’d recognize whether someone was a vampire or not, but not if they were a member of the coven.”
“The ambush is good sized, but the cat recognizes members, it’s an instinctive thing.”
Merrix took a deep inhale through his nose. He let the breath out in a quick rush and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t smell anything different. I hate to say it, but you guys all smell the same to me, like the jungle.”
Cyrus shook his head with a laugh. “Really?”
“Yeah. I think my nature always categorizes shifters that way. All wolves smell like fall and dragons smell like burning coal.”
Something niggled again at the back of Cyrus’s mind, his spine feeling like someone was jabbing a needle in between the vertebrae just to screw with him. There was something out of place here.
Something that didn’t belong.
He swept his gaze around the kitchen again, and then he saw it. A vague shadow on the tiled floor. Looking up, he saw that something was partially blocking one of the box lights in the ceiling.
“That’s weird.” He pointed to the ceiling. Next to the oddly shadowed light, one of the ceiling tiles had been left askew.
“The fixtures were completed a few days ago,” Merrix said. “No one should have been messing with them or the tiles.”
Cyrus went to the ladder and brought it near the fixture, setting it up and stepping up the rungs. The unfamiliar tiger’s scent was heaviest on the tile and fixture, and at this point, he could definitely tell there was something artificial about the smell. But the only reason for someone to add artificial tiger scent to themselves would be if they were trying to disguise who or what they truly were.
Like a human, masquerading as a tiger during a shift change, when things were chaotic and loud.
And no one noticed a male on a ladder messing with the tile, not even him.
Carefully pushing up the edge of the tile, he saw wires that didn’t belong there and the scent of C4 that he recognized from demolition projects he’d done in the past.
His cat let out a warning in his mind that was as clear as a bell. Get. Out.
“Bomb!” Cyrus yelled, leaping down the ladder. “Get everyone out!”
Cyrus and Merrix rushed toward the males in the kitchen. He shoved two ahead of him, propelling them toward the back door, when a terrible noise erupted from within the ceiling. He felt heat and the powerful blast, that propelled him like a rag doll. He had only a heartbeat to think about Cella, to wonder if she’d be safe. If there were more bombs.
If she would be okay without him.
The blast forced him sideways as the ceiling collapsed, burying him where he landed somewhere in the kitchen.
His last thought was Cella.
And then nothing.
Chapter Ten
Cella rubbed her eyes and stared at the computer screen. She was supposed to be going over a fresh batch of resumes for the food manager position that the head hunter company had emailed her. But she couldn’t concentrate, and she couldn’t put her finger on why.
Well, she missed Cyrus.
But that was nothing new. She always missed him. Always loathed the time of night when they had to part ways. She disliked it so much that she’d considered shedding her dress clothes for coveralls and joining him on the construction crew. He’d probably think she was a loon for even thinking about it. But here she was. Missing him terribly.
Her chest ached sharply, and she rubbed her fingertips over the space, wondering what was bothering her. Closing her eyes, she settled back in her chair and delved into her feelings. Was she just missing Cyrus? Or was something else going on?
She realized that she felt an echo of emotion through the connection she shared with Cyrus. They weren’t officially mated – he hadn’t become her beloved and they hadn’t marked each other – but they were still mates. The bond between them now wasn’t strong at all, but it apparently had enough weight to it that she could feel what he was feeling. To a small extent anyway.
And what she felt right now was fear.
Cyrus was afraid.
The very idea that her strong, fierce mate was afraid made her jump from her chair. She raced from the office, the door cracking against the wall as she flung it open. “Brone!” She skidded to a halt in front of his desk. “Something’s wrong at the restaurant.”
She didn’t give him any more details, because she didn’t have any, and she didn’t wait for him to join her as she took off at a run down the hall. She had zero idea why she was so pani
cked suddenly, but the feeling increased as she ran through the reception area and down the hall toward the door that led to the alley between the restaurant and the club.
Behind her she could hear the heavy footsteps of the males in the family, and she was relieved she wasn’t alone.
An explosion rocked the club. She lost her footing and caught herself on the wall.
“Oh, no.” She choked the words out as she reached the door and punched in her security code to unlock it.
“Hold on.” Brone put his hand on her shoulder and stopped her from opening the door. “Let me go first.”
“Just hurry.”
Brone opened the door and moved past her. It was then she realized he was armed to the teeth, a gun in his hand and weapons strapped to his body. Behind him, Temple, Vex, and Rage moved through the doorway, past the other security door, and out into the alley.
“I’m at your back,” Ven said.
“Thanks.”
She followed the males out into the alley, rubbing the space over her heart. She reached for the connection she felt to Cyrus, and it was gone suddenly. Her eyes stung and she ground her teeth together until her fangs cut her gums.
As they reached the restaurant, she finally pieced together the noise she was hearing over the roaring in her head. There were people yelling for help within the restaurant.
“The door’s jammed,” Brone said, pulling hard on the door. “The electricity is off as well.”
Cella didn’t wait for anyone to tell her anything. There’d been an explosion in the restaurant and Cyrus was inside. She slipped silently from her heels and sprinted away from the small group. They called after her, but she was around the corner and at the front of the restaurant in seconds. The glass front had shattered, all the windows and doors nonexistent. Leaping through the nearest window, she cursed as she cut her feet on broken glass. Making her way to the door leading to the kitchen, she pulled on it, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Cyrus!” she called, jerking on the door and then banging on it.
She could hear the cries for help and smelled blood, but she couldn’t hear Cyrus.
“Damn it, female,” Vex said. “You don’t just run into a building that exploded like that.”
“Cyrus is in there.”
“Are you sure?”
“I just feel it.”
“Okay.” He pulled on the door, and she wanted to tell him that she hadn’t been able to budge it a bit either, but he was stronger than her, and she was going to hope for the best. He let out an unholy grunt and the door started to creak, the hinges protesting the violent pulling. He pried the door open enough she could get her fingers in between the door and the frame, which had been warped in the explosion. Adding her own strength, which seemed even more powerful in her panic, they were able to pull the door open together.
She and Vex shone their cell phone flashlights into the room when the door had been pulled free of the frame. What she saw left her cold from the inside out.
The ceiling had collapsed.
“No, no, no.” She picked her way through the debris until she couldn’t move forward anymore because of the ceiling. “Cyrus! Cyrus!”
She felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Calm down,” Vex said. “You’re panicking.”
“Hello! The fucking ceiling collapsed!” She squeezed her phone so tightly the protective cover cracked.
“Later, I’ll tell you that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear. But right now, you need to calm down so you can focus.” He turned her to face him. He was her friend. Her brother. A male she’d trusted on a thousand separate occasions. Nodding, she focused on the beam of light from her phone that shone on some wiring on the floor in between pieces of broken tile and glass. Blinking a few times, she rolled her shoulders and felt her panic lessen.
“That’s good. Now, focus on Cyrus. What he smells like. How he makes you feel. The connection between you as mates.”
“We’re not mates yet.”
“Bullshit. You might not have marked each other, but you’re mates. Rage and I felt connected to Angie before we mated her.”
“I felt something before the explosion, but it’s gone. I think it means...” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence because she couldn’t bear to consider the possibility.
“I don’t believe it’s gone. Focus on it. Find it within yourself.”
Cella closed her eyes and shut out everything around her and thought about Cyrus. His scent, his body, the way he purred when he saw her like his cat couldn’t contain his happiness. She felt something deep inside, a spark of a connection that felt like Cyrus, all strength and heat wrapped up in a devastatingly sexy package. Reaching for that spark, she coaxed it forward with the feelings that had been growing within her since she’d met him. She loved him, but she hadn’t told him yet. She’d wondered if her feelings were too soon, so she’d kept the thought to herself. Now, she knew that love was what connected her to him, and that it must mean he loved her too.
Heat flared within her and her fangs throbbed in response.
She inhaled deeply, turning away from Vex. Keeping her eyes closed, she scented again, sorting through the smells around her. She caught the faintest scent to her left and she opened her eyes and flashed her beam along the floor.
“This way,” she said to Vex. The two of them worked to clear the debris, tossing it aside as they moved toward the wall.
“Do you require help?” Brone called from behind them.
“We’re looking for Cyrus,” Vex called. “We’ve got this.”
“Medical personnel are on the way,” Brone said. “We’re pulling the wounded outside. The structure isn’t safe, so hurry.”
“I’m not going anywhere without my beloved.”
“I understand. Call if you need us.”
Cella and Vex continued their slow trek toward the wall. As they drew closer to it, the connection grew stronger, until she was very certain Cyrus was just ahead of them. Vex swept his beam across the wall. There was a huge dent and streaks of blood. She’d smelled it, and knew it was Cyrus’s. Giving her phone to Vex, she used both hands to plow through the wreckage, cutting her hands and breaking her nails as she hefted boards, tiles, and glass out of the way. She caught a glimpse of denim, and she put her hand on it. The connection flared a bit more, and then began to fade.
“No!” A huge piece of ceiling was covering Cyrus, and she struggled to lift it. “Vex, help!”
In a heartbeat Vex was next to her and helping her lift the ceiling. She saw Cyrus, covered with dust and blood, his body very still. The ceiling piece began to tremble as they struggled to keep it aloft. She was vaguely aware of Vex calling for assistance, but she couldn’t focus on anything but the fact she couldn’t really feel the connection to Cyrus.
“Don’t die on me!”
Chapter Eleven
Hands joined them, bodies pushing between her and Vex, and the ceiling was lifted completely off her beloved. She dropped next to him, her shaking hands feeling along his throat for his pulse. There was so much blood, from cuts on his face and arms, and he appeared to be laying in a pool of blood that was getting bigger. She tilted her head and listened for his heartbeat, hearing a faint, off-kilter thump.
She knew without having any serious medical training that he was dying. He’d been crushed, and his internal organs had been injured.
“We can...” The words caught in her throat. “Get help.”
“Cella,” Brone knelt next to her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “There’s only one thing you can do.”
She sniffled and looked at him. “What?”
“Change him.”
She gulped in a deep breath, her mind swimming as she thought about joining as beloveds. Sex was a part of it, which meant becoming beloveds was out of the question for them.
“I can’t make him my beloved. He’s unconscious.”
“Not becoming beloveds,” Brone said. “Change. Him.�
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Clarity washed through her. “You mean turn him? Can I even do that? I thought shifters couldn’t be turned.”
“He’s lost so much blood,” Rage said, looking down at Cyrus. “Brone’s right. You may be able to turn him into a vampire by overwhelming his system with the blood of our kind. We’ll need donors. Lots of them.”
“He’ll hate me forever,” she said, picking up his cold hand.
“But he’ll be alive,” Brone said. “I’m not wrong. It’s this or death. And he may die anyway. Nothing is certain in transitions.”
Resolve filled her. He could hate her for eternity, but at least he’d be alive.
Technically, anyway.
“What do I do?”
Brone explained swiftly that she had to open his veins and drain his blood from him, until his heartbeat was so slow it neared stopping entirely. Then she would seal his wounds and feed him her blood. She’d give him as much as possible without harming herself, then others would step in and feed him.
Someone handed her a sharp knife and she took in a deep breath and focused on her beloved. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me, Cyrus. It’s the only way to save you.”
She cut into his wrists, slicing upward to free his blood from his veins. She listened intently to his heartbeat, the irregular thumping slowing as the seconds ticked by and his blood drained.
She’d never turned anyone. Her memories of her own turning by Mishka were fuzzy, and the circumstances hadn’t been dire like this. Mishka cut her wrists while she lay on a pallet with thick blankets underneath to catch the blood. His eyes had been such a bright gold while she’d bled out that she’d been mesmerized.
Cyrus’s heartbeat slowed even further. Without needing to be prompted by anyone, she licked the wounds on his wrists to seal them, and then slashed her wrist with her fangs, deeply so that the blood would flow. Cyrus’s jaw was locked, and it took some effort for her to pry it open in order to set her wrist between his teeth.
Her blood filled his mouth and welled out of the corners, but he wasn’t swallowing.
