Cimmerian Shade: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy Collection

by Kiki Howell

  It was common to blame the humans or other supernaturals to have been responsible, but in reality, the older vampires knew better. The Divine's breed of fallen were pest control... and supernaturals were the pests.

  "So what kinda powers does a Black Blood Slayer possess besides seducing and killing vampires?" Tristan asked, watching the determination in her steps and the men who couldn't take their eyes off her. So much for inconspicuous.

  Zoë suddenly possessed a confident smirk. "A fallen never tells. Besides, most of my other powers are triggered by fight or flight, unless..."

  "Unless what?"

  She clenched her dagger tighter. "I lose control of my beast." It was a long time since that had been a risk, but the predicament she found herself in now made it as big a possibility as ever. The beast within her would want blood. Lots of it. The darkness within her would call for it—and no soulless would be able to resist her. Not even her brave, brooding vampire beside her.

  "If that happens... let's just say, you shouldn't be near me."

  She continued walking, and Tristan nodded.

  Meaning I would have to put a bullet in her.

  "Duly noted. Listen, Dashiell has no idea you are part of the package, so I need you to be whatever he thinks you are. He'll most likely think you're vampire, so go with it."

  "I don't get it. I thought this was someone you trust?"

  "Trust is overrated. I need to find out what he knows first. Besides, no one should know what you really are in that bar. You'll spread panic. Maybe even to Dashiell, and he's the only ally I have right now."

  Zoë rolled her eyes. A brooding, friendless, warrior vampire. Just perfect. "Lucky me, I get bound to a vampire who doesn't have any fucking friends. Guess that charm of yours isn't as alluring as you think."

  Tristan scoffed at her sarcasm. "I wouldn't say that. It apparently got you chained half-naked to my bed ready to fuck my brains out."

  She sneered at his accusation. Sure, it was true. She did wanted to fuck his brains out. From the moment she had first locked eyes with him, that's what her body had wanted. That's how it always starts. Then, like a venomous Black Widow, she would've drained him dry. If he was lucky.

  "That only would've been a short... very short interlude to the main event. Trust me."

  As they approached the entrance of Patsey's, Zoë frowned as the bouncer held his hand to block her from entering as she attempted to enter. Tristan stood behind her, watching the tall, tattooed male shake his head at Zoë. He had a grim reaper image crowning his clean-shaven head. His bright eyes shone through his contacts.

  "Hey, you can't enter with—"

  He stopped in mid-sentence as he stared into Zoë's eyes which held her natural violet hue. The air around them seemed to hum and snap with energy and the vampire bouncer suddenly couldn't remember his last thought. He blinked and finally waved her in.

  Zoë turned around and inclined her head, signaling Tristan to follow her in. A bit dumbfounded, he walked in, eyeing the bouncer suspiciously. However, he just looked annoyed as he had before they approached him.

  The music inside blared with many humans drinking, smoking, and having fun along with the vampires who watched them like lions ready to pick off a zebra from the herd. He pulled up a seat at a table and kicked one out for Zoë.

  But she didn't sit. Instead, she stood there staring, watching the meat market display. These humans were here to have a good time. They didn’t expect to be some vampire's dinner. Or plaything. A low growl rumbled in her throat.

  Tristan shook his head at her. "Sit down. This is not what we're here for."

  She turned her head briefly at his command. "Fuck you, vampire. This is what I'm created for."

  Tristan rubbed his neck. The protector was in her bones. There was no stopping it, and trying to tame her was a fool's challenge, but she couldn't start a killing scene in here. Not without alerting everyone what she was and putting all the patrons in a panic. They’d come too far.

  "Do you want to find Remelia or not?" he simply asked. "Do you?"

  At the mention of the Supreme's name, Zoë shifted her focus away from the unsuspecting vampires. She felt her resolve soften as she thought about his question. "I do."

  "Good. Well, don't piss it all away to start any shit in here. We're here to stop something bigger. Don't forget that."

  Her teeth clenched to the point of aching thinking of another life taken by some smug fucking parasite. Anger in her muscles, she finally sat and pulled her chair close to the table so he could hear her. "This isn't right. You can't expect to just sit here and—"

  "I don't." Tristan stared into her hazel eyes that were a lie. He found himself preferring her purple gems. Even when they glared at him with conviction. "Just long enough for us to talk with Dashiell and get some information." Tristan propped his feet on the table. "Then you can do what you wish to them."

  Zoë's eyes widened in surprise at his remark. She didn't expect such a thing to ever come from a vampire's lips. "You aren't going to stop me?"

  Tristan shrugged. Mr. Darkness has to make a visit every night. Perhaps he's waiting on Ms. Darkness to bring the death. "If things get too bloody, I might. But a charmer like you probably wouldn't need to make things bloody, I imagine. One battle at a time. I know it's in your nature to hunt my kind. I understand it. But just like everything else, there must be rules." He crossed his arms. "Though, I will say, you're a bit of a hypocrite."

  She grimaced. "Why am I a hypocrite?"

  "I've seen you battle sickness and pain to fight your nature since you've met me. Must be torture. I bet all you want is to let go and do what you were, as you stated earlier, 'created to do.'"

  Tristan looked around, and then focused on her. "I'm proving to be tolerant of your nature to hunt vampires, yet clearly you share no tolerance for us giving in to our nature. To hunt, to feed."

  Zoë sat back with a smirk. "What, I'm supposed to just let vamps eat every human they can get their grubby little hands on to be tolerant of your need to kill, hunt, and feed? I could care less that feeding from humans is in your nature. That's the difference between predator...,"she pointed at herself then to him, "... and prey. As a predator, I don't have to allow you to do anything." She leaned forward. "I can just take what I want."

  Tristan smiled, realizing she just validated his sentiment as a vampire. "Exactly."

  Zoë's smirk dissolved as it clicked to her, but the thought was short-lived as a tall, dark-haired vampire in all black came up behind Tristan and placed a hand on his shoulder. His eyes lingered over her for a moment.

  "What the hell? You entertaining company at a time like this?" Dashiell asked in what would be a piss-poor whisper.

  .

  Chapter Thirteen: Nature of the Beast

  TRISTAN CAUGHT THE hand by reflex and turned to see Dashiell standing there. "Glad to see you can make it. I don't understand how you're late for everything."

  Dashiell popped his gum. "It takes practice, Tristan. Practice. At least I'm not the one on the most wanted list. Besides, I had to deal with some Green Girls prowling around like renegades. Apparently, some have it in for some poor vamp bastard. I'm thinking you."

  Tristan grumbled. "Who knew I'd be so fucking popular."

  "Certainly I didn't." As Dashiell pulled up a chair on the edge between Tristan and Zoë, he looked at her as if she were on the menu in this very low-key meat market. "And who's this?"

  Tristan frowned, waving dismissively. "She's a friend."

  "Actually, I was just leaving." Zoë offered a smile that had Dashiell returning a heated gaze. She caught herself before she rolled her eyes at his ogling. Sometimes, Just sometimes, she wished she could turn it off. Especially when it came to situations like this.

  Both of them there within her grasp was far too tempting, along with the other vampires there hunting for food. She greatly misjudged her ability for restraint, and if she didn't get away, that control she talked about earlier would finall
y go bye-bye.

  Ugh. Fuck my life.

  She had no intentions of attracting or eating his friend. Not unless he deserved it. The scent from this one's blood was lighter, his essence weaker, like a passing fancy. Like chocolate - probably dark and sweet for only a moment, then gone forever.

  Dashiell must've been a much younger vampire. Not weathered and seasoned like...

  "Tristan."

  She finally said his name, letting it linger on her mouth as she began to stand up while Tristan and Dashiell watched her. The name suited him, and she liked it.

  Leaning over the table, her eyes locked on Tristan in a way that made him hungry for her. Her look felt like the kiss they shared when he first saw her in chains, dark, demanding, and seductive.

  Zoë stared at his lips, inches away. "I'm going... hunting. I'll leave you two to talk." Straightening her body, she turned and walked towards the back exit. Watching her walk way, alarm tensed Tristan's body, but she couldn't leave, and she couldn't go far. At least, not without him.

  Dashiell leaned back in his chair. "Whoa. She's... interesting. You say she's a friend?"

  Tristan didn't respond yet. He just watched Zoë whisper into the ear of another, unsuspecting, male vampire who, within seconds, followed behind her like a lost puppy... then urged another—a young female vampire to join him. Her purple hair and plaid skirt both swayed in the wind as they quietly walked out the back exit.

  Hunting, indeed. She was the pied piper of vampires; leading them off to their death with a nice ass and a come hither look. At least she wasn't tearing up the place, but it proved a point her ally made to him in that basement.

  Jay had been right. There was nothing emotional about her whatsoever. She was a machine designed to do one thing: thin the herd of vampires.

  Tristan cleared his throat, still eyeing the door. "Yeah. Something like that." He finally turned to Dashiell. "Look, the witches think I had something to do with their Supreme's disappearance. They came after me earlier. What the fuck is going on?"

  "It's fucking bedlam out here, Tris, that's what's going on. The attack has gotten all the vampires in a fucking tizzy, and everyone's ready to fight. Javen told everyone what happened, and all bets are off, man. Now I'm out looking everywhere for Christophe, and no one's seen him."

  His face went stoic. "Suspicions are everywhere now. Especially on Christophe."

  "He's been MIA since the attack. You think the Green Girls are looking for him too?" Tristan asked.

  Dashiell scoffed. "Who the hell knows? Those bitches are looking for any lead that will take them to their Supreme. They couldn't care less. For all we know, they killed Christophe and have their eyes set on you now."

  "Somehow I doubt that. They would've said they had another vampire in their grasp. If anything but to work me into a rage."

  No, the witches definitely had their sight on him specifically. They were hunting him, not picking random vampires off the street.

  Dashiell crossed his arms, surprise evident in his bright eyes. "They spoke to you? What did they say?"

  "That they wanted to know the whereabouts of Remelia. And that someone told them I had something to do with it." He looked into Dashiell's eyes. "Has anyone seen her that you know of?"

  Dashiell spit out his gum across the room, admiring the arc before the white clump hit the floor. "Yeah, right. No one's seen their Queen Bitch. And we have our own drama to deal with. Who cares if the Green Girls lost their leader?"

  "Don't you find it odd that Remelia disappeared roughly around the same time as Ivana's attack? That couldn't be coincidence Dashiell. We know that The Three sent me and Greg after the grimoire around that time as well. You're telling me that Remelia turning up missing just in time for me to cop the witch's book, then find myself in an ambush where Green Girls were responsible, is just a fucking fluke?"

  "I didn't say that."

  "Good. So you're not a total asshole."

  Kicking Zoë's chair, Dashiell shot up glaring at Tristan. "Instead of insulting me, dickhead, why don't you just say the lunacy you're thinking out loud! Just fucking say it."

  A petite waitress approached them with her tray tucked under her arm. Her worried eyes darted between both men as if anticipating a punch to whip out from either of them. "Um... is everything okay, guys? Drinks?"

  Dashiell took a breath, then briefly looked at the waitress. "No, we're good. My friend was just about to tell me a joke."

  With a nervous laugh, the poor waitress backed away, "Okay. Just let me know if you need anything." Quickly, she made her way over to another table, which seemed to have more cordial people there.

  Tristan stood up and met his eyes squarely. Without the whereabouts nor confirmation on Christophe's allegiance, Dashiell was his only ally in this major shitstorm. He needed Dashiell to believe him.

  "Fine. The Three is in on all of this, Dashiell. I know they are."

  Dashiell shook his head and sighed. "Tristan..."

  "No, I asked you to come here because I need you to listen to me about this. You need to hear it. Ivana's death was a setup. It was designed for The Three to point fingers at their enemies. Think about it. No one knew about our whereabouts except us and The Three, yet we get ambushed! Christophe disappears, then Green Girls and Were-shifters get blamed for Ivana's death? You can't stand here and tell me something doesn't stink, Dashiell. I trained you too well."

  Dashiell slowly sat back down and waited for Tristan to sit back down next to him. A beat or two passed. Then finally, "Okay, I'm listening."

  “Takeshi had a body of a witch and a wolf shifter, but that wasn't them shooting at us, Dashiell. It was our own. Vampires killed Ivana and made it look like the Green Girls and the Were-shifters were responsible for her death."

  "Why would they kill Ivana. She had no power like The Three."

  "They needed a martyr, and she was a threat."

  "What do you mean?"

  "When I talked to Ivana, she told me that she was in talks with making peaceful negotiations with Remelia when she disappeared. Remelia wanted peace, too. The reason The Three was brought to power was because of the wars. What would become of them if the war stopped? If the Were-shifters, witches, and vamps made peace? Where would they be in this new world? They couldn't just tell the vampires to attack. They needed something caustic to make them get behind. Everyone loved Ivana. She was the vampires' poster girl for peace."

  "How else to light a fuse for war other than kill a symbol for peace," Dashiell replied staring at the table. With a deep sigh, he looked up at Tristan. "This is insane, Tristan. You know that right?" He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "You're saying that Javen had his own companion murdered. That he and the others allowed it to happen. And not only that, but framed the Green Girls and biters?"

  Tristan nodded.

  Dashiell exhaled slowly and popped a new piece of gum in his mouth. "This is some hairy shit. Do we have any proof?"

  "Takeshi likely destroyed the bodies of the vampires I killed during the attack, that was my concrete evidence."

  "You think Christophe was in on it?"

  "It's possible. Like you said, he's been gone and no one's seen him. If we find him, he may know something. Someone there killed Ivana. Found her and brutally killed her. I aim to find who did it and make them pay."

  "I don't want to think of Christophe killing Ivana. That's too dark. Even for me, Tristan."

  Tristan ran his fingers through his hair. He tried not to consider the possibility either. Christophe had his own rules, but he proved to be trusting. But he was the only one who no one knew where he'd gone.

  Was he in on it? Or did he know who was? Either way, Tristan needed to find the Templar vampire before The Three did. If he was alive, that is.

  "We need to find him before The Three finds him. He may be the evidence we need," Tristan said.

  "Ivana's funeral is tomorrow night."

  "I know."

  "Guess I also don't need to tell
you that The Three don't trust you now any more than you trust them."

  "Glad we're mutual on something."

  "I'm serious, Tristan. Don't attend. I believe you, okay? I can help you track down Christophe when I can, but as your friend, stay away."

  "That's real sweet, Dashiell, but I'm not under The Three's thumb anymore. No offense. So I do what I damn well please. If they want to accuse me of something, they can have it. Cause so will I."

  Dashiell put his hand up to block Tristan. His hazel eyes glared in warning. "Fine. Then as Commander, I'll warn you again. If you approach The Three tomorrow, you'll put me in a position to put you down. Don't force me into that position, Tris."

  Their staring showdown suddenly paused as Tristan watched Dashiell's eyes shift past him to the bar's entrance.

  Tristan only had a second before he ducked as the spraying sound of bullets fired through the bar.

  ZOË STILL HELD THE vampire's hand as they made out against the wall. The female’s lips were sweet, but she was a bit too slender for Zoë’s personal taste.

  The tall, blonde, biker vampire leaned back against the dumpster and watched them. His eyes were black, but held every possible twinkle of lust in them. He was consumed by it. Consumed by her.

  She wanted him to watch, and when they were this enthralled, all they could do was what they were told. The blonde was straining against his jeans, eagerly watching as the petite, purple-haired vampire slid her tongue into Zoë ‘smouth with a moan, and when Zoë took a hand and lifted her little plaid skirt to show the biker his little cupcake was commando, Zoë swore she heard the guy whimper.

  She sighed. It was pathetic how oblivious they were sometimes. Did many of them think they were the supreme rulers of the night? Seriously?

  The vampires recruited on a lie. Be superhuman, hunt the weak, kill your enemies, and never grow old. The dominant paranormal race, yada yada yada.