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

by Kiki Howell

  Otto sighed. “Good. Now, we talk.” He turned and walked out, and the other shifters followed behind him.

  Tristan watched them until Jay walked up and punched him in the face. Hard. Tristan felt the silver from his ring gash his cheek, but other than that, it was the extent of the damage.

  "Are you done?"

  “You’re an asshole.” Jay stood facing him with daggers in his eyes. “I get alerted with a text message with the address of this shitty place in the middle of the boonies, to help save your stupid ass after rolling around with Z. Not to mention having to deal with fucking Otto and his flea-bitten crew watching every move I make!”

  “Otto allowed you to save me?”

  “He had no choice with Zoë telling him that is what she had to do! She couldn’t get you to drink, so I had to put a line in you.”

  Jay walked over to Zoë and checked her pulse against his watch.

  “Is she going to be all right?”

  “What the hell do you care?” Jay turned to him. “You wanna know something about her kind? You wanted to know what you were dealing with? Well, let me tell you something. Zoë is different. Black Bloods have the same DNA as an angel. They do as they’re told and always follow the rules. The others do just that. Had you met any other of her people, you’d been dead the second after you laid eyes on them. No remorse. No afterthought.

  “But Zoë likes to bend the rules. Always has. And she takes a punishment for that. She’s made sacrifices. Even now, I’ve seen her suffer just to keep you alive. All of this drains her strength and makes her vulnerable. She’s closed off from the portal and tied to Black Blood bait. It’s only a matter of time the others will come searching for her and the fallen only protects the weak—they don’t allow them in their ranks. And we need her strong to fight whatever bullshit The Three are up to right now.”

  Tristan stood quiet. The preacher was right. Zoë was a formidable ally in all of this. Her enthrallment alone could probably bring The Three to their knees, but he didn’t expect Zoë to work so hard to save him.

  He examined her tired face, resting. He didn’t get it. Someone obviously had a penchant for saving lost causes. Like someone else he once knew.

  Jay raked his hair and sighed. “I warned you about her. If you let your emotions and miniature Tristan get in the way, you’ll die.”

  "What the hell are you two going on about? Can't you two stop attacking for two fucking seconds?" A dreary voiced Zoë broke the tension.

  Both Jay and Tristan stopped talking to focus on her slowly coming to. Jay breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Jesus, you scared the ever-loving shit outta me. That was far too much blood to give at once, are you crazy?”

  “Not quite, but I’m getting there.” She slowly pulled to her feet, allowing her body to straighten. The ache in her bones was gone and so was her thirst.

  Looking at them both, her eyes naturally gravitated to Tristan. He didn’t realize how close he had been to dying. Yet here he was, alive. The taste of him was still on her tongue, a souvenir of their dangerous encounter.

  Even as she stood there, chained, she craved another encounter, regardless of how foolish and short sighted it was. It wasn’t like the thirst pulled her anymore. It was something else.

  “You look healthy,” she said.

  “You don’t.”

  She shrugged. “I’m rested and not ready to drink myself silly. So everyone wins. Where’s Otto?”

  Tristan moved towards her. “He’s here. He wants to talk.” As he grabbed the chain, Zoë stepped back as he pulled the links apart. “Why did you let them chain you up like this?”

  “You know why.”

  Tristan sighed. “You know, Jay’s right. You’re causing your own pain, Black Blood.”

  “Funny, I thought it was more along the lines of saving your pasty ass. If you had a brain lapse, I nearly drank you dry.”

  “I get that, but you are working too hard to save an enemy you don’t even know. You’re being naive and stupid.”

  “I don’t understand what the hell your problem is.”

  “Do you even know who I am? Or what I’m capable of? Let’s not complicate things, demon, you and I aren’t the same. And you being merciful almost put everything at risk.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t you get it? You’re the only one strong enough to end this shit with The Three. It’s a fucking no-brainer. If you care so much about your precious humans and ending the war, you need to think about that. Me? I don’t give a shit. I never have.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Who do you think stole Remelia’s grimoire from the Green Girls? Hmm?”

  Zoë’s frown grew deep. “You stole it for The Three?”

  He nodded. “That was going to be my final mission before Javen talked me into protecting Ivana. Ivana didn’t even know, I suspect. Here she was trying to talk peace with the Supreme and there I was snatching the grimoire behind her back.”

  “And Remelia?”

  “Who the hell knows. She wasn’t a part of my mission, but maybe a part of someone else’s. Maybe Christoph. Dashiell is giving me suspicions. It’s all fucked.”

  “Don’t you believe in anything? You don’t give a shit about any of this. You just follow orders and don’t give a shit about the consequences do you?”

  “Don’t you?”

  Zoë began to pant as her anger began to thrive through her body. He was apathetic just like all the rest. Jay stood between them.

  “I hate to break up this lover’s spat, but can we go finish talking to Otto so I can get the hell outta here?”

  Tristan and Zoë eyed each other, until she finally turned to the leave. “We aren’t done yet.”

  They walked into the living room where they were surrounded by Were-shifters of every size and build leading into the kitchen. As they walked, Tristan had his guard up, never for a moment trusting a pack of shifters. They worked as a team, and when one got irate, they all seemed to get irate.

  Many vampires, even The Three, felt they were hot-headed by nature, but obviously they didn’t put Otto in that same bracket. Either the stereotype was just that or Otto was quite the anomaly.

  The blond-haired, ancient Were-shifter sat down on one of the folding steel chairs. He wore all black jeans with biker boots and a black tank. Otto’s bright, honey-colored eyes reflected as his head shifted away from the kitchen lights.

  Unlike the panting of his pack, the old wolf sat silent. Just standing before him was a deception. Tristan couldn’t begin to count how many times his colleagues had wished they got to be this close to the leader of the Were-shifters. How the war could be chopped by a third if they could zero out Otto Hannibal Krause? Tristan nearly laughed at the thought. Those were words from baby vamps who didn’t have the slightest inkling on how complicated the war really was. Nor how powerful the ones at the top were. Many foolish renegade vampires met a very painful, untimely death trying to topple a regime as old and as strong as Otto’s.

  He extended his hand to the chairs next to him. “Please,” he cooed in his Balkan accent. “Have a seat. We’ve much to discuss, I imagine.”

  Cautiously, Tristan moved past him to the chairs, but neither he nor Zoë sat.

  They turned to see Jay quickly sitting down in the chair farthest from Otto. Tristan, raised an eyebrow at the preacher, who looked around clueless as some of the shifters laughed.

  “What?,” Jay asked.

  Otto stirred his tea, watching them. “So, we have two alphas and one...” He glared at Jay who literally sat at the edge of his seat. “... scapegoat.”

  He took a sip of his black tea and eyed Tristan and Zoë. “Nothing, human. It wasn’t a test, but it’s always easy to tell, in any case. You, Tristan, should know that not everything I ask for is a challenge.”

  “There’s no telling with you, Krause.” Tristan stood attentive. “What are you doing here?”

  “Why, the Black Blood sent for me. She strong
armed Rafe and his team into taking you to me after they tore through Patsey’s like a bunch of rabid mutts.” He cut his eyes to Rafe.

  Tristan turned to Zoë.

  “Of course, with a fast infecting bite poisoning you and daylight approaching, she made a call to bring you here to... um, recover.” He cleared his throat. “If that’s what they call it nowadays.”

  The wolves chortled and Tristan took a step towards him, only for Zoë to block him.

  “So, you wanted to talk. No games, right? So talk.” He looked at his watch and tapped it. “You have ten minutes.”

  She growled. “You’re overstepping, Otto...”

  “And so are you, Black Blood. I’m sure your superiors, Taki and Constantine would be interested in the kinda company you’re keeping.”

  “They are bound by witchcraft.” Jay uttered boldly.

  “Oh, excuse me. What I meant was, the kinda company you’re fucking.”

  This time, it was Zoë who advanced. The sleek sound of the metal clink as she drew her sword hummed as the shifters started to growl. In her fluid move, her blade stopped at just an inch from Otto’s throat.

  Before watching a few strands of Otto’s blonde hair fall from her blade, she cut her violet eyes to his pack. “You mongrels will be silent! Your master isn’t a master of mine.”

  Zoë turned to the proud, ancient king of the Were-shifters. He always had a mouth on him. Always enjoyed provoking. “And you... the only reason you give a damn as to whom I’m fucking is because in all these long years of existence, it’s never been you. And it’ll never be you, lest I wake with fleas. Now, by the Order, I can’t end you, but I can make things very unpleasant for your people. So how about we cut the insults because, I’m pretty sensitive.”

  “You and the others are playing into a setup designed by The Three,” Tristan infored them. “You know your people aren’t involved, but neither the Were-shifters nor the Green Girls were involved in the assassination of Ivana of Bainsborough,”

  “The Were-shifters had nothing to do with that. But the vampires feel differently,” Otto added. “And I cannot speak for the magical Green Girls. Who knows what they are up to? They’d do anything to get back at the top of the food chain again.”

  “They were set up as well. The Three used the Were-shifters and witches as a scapegoat from what really happened.”

  Otto scoffed. “The great Three on Sangrine Hill.” With a laugh he shifted in his seat. “Ancient leeches turned political. So what was it that really happened?”

  Tristan clenched his fists. “Ivana was murdered by The Three.”

  Otto stopped stirring his tea.

  “Vampires were in the kill squad. I killed one personally.”

  Otto sat up. Javen and the others were not above the common pettiness of their human counterparts. It shouldn’t have surprised Otto that Javen, Constance and Drago would be so bold to stage such a thing.

  “Ivana was a very kind soul. One that I regret had to share such a fate. But I was never convinced that The Three wanted the war to end. Their numbers have grown over the years. More vampires being made than before, to grow their army and presence.”

  Zoë nodded. “It’s kept us busy to say the least.”

  “If The Three wants to come at us full force, we’re ready for them. We’ve always been ready for them.”

  “You need the witches on your side, Otto.” Zoë encouraged. “They are being used and we have a feeling that the reason why I’m here has to do with Remelia’s disappearance.”

  “We have no reason to make allies with those bitches of the cursed words,” Rafe interjected. “They have attacked us on several occasions. Chasing after someone to blame for the fact they couldn’t even protect their Supreme from harm.”

  “He will not let it go until it is settled.”

  “What’s settled?”

  “Bronwyn’s death. His mate. They have been together forever. At least, to how a human would calculate. She was always hot headed, following her equally hot headed mate wherever he went. I’ve warned him time after time about hunting with her but he’d never listen. Because of that, partly he is to blame for her untimely death. Nevertheless, she had ultimately died by your hands, vampire.”

  Zoë crossed her arms, eyeing Rafe then Otto. “Rafe perhaps failed to mention that he and his crew of pups went gung ho into a human bar and raked up casualties. For that alone, I could take all of their lives for such a stupid, thoughtless act.”

  “This is true. I would not be able to stand in the way for your punishment for him and the others mindlessly taking human lives and endangering exposure. I’d sent a cleaning crew to take care of it and any Were-shifters in the law enforcement has been made aware. But I cannot defend the cost of lives.” He looked to Rafe, who seemed a bit too quiet for normal. Perhaps the wolf realized he had bit off more than he could chew.

  But Bronwyn was one of his own and Rafe deserved the right to avenge his love. “May I make a suggestion?”

  Tristan looked at him. “What?”

  “Instead of making this situation so messy. Let’s settle this the old way.”

  Zoë pursed her lips and nodded. She looked over to Tristan with a raised eyebrow. “How bout it, cowboy?”

  “Which is?”

  Otto smiled. “A challenge to the death. No guns. No knives.” He clenched his massive fists. “Just your bare hands. Prowess of a true fighter.”

  "Still love to see a good blood match, eh Otto?" Tristan crossed his arms.

  "This is different. Rafe will hunt you down until he avenges her death. It is the nature of our species. When we mate, we do so for life. When that is taken from us, we seek vengeance. Rafe will turn mad without this opportunity. So as Alpha, it is my duty to grant him this."

  "You have to give me more than that, Otto. As a vampire, I could give a shit about your mating customs, or the lament of a dead lover."

  Otto sighed. "If you should be the victor, Tristan, I will agree to parlay with the Green Girls. No problem. Peaceful talk, I will hear what they have to say." He reached out his hand. "Do we have a deal?"

  Zoë smiled as Tristan nodded and shook Otto's hand. "We have a deal."

  A deadly grin grew on Otto's scruffy face. "I'd be lying if I didn't say this won't be a real treat for me and the boys. The Three's prized commander getting his ass handed to him by a Were-shifter? Hell, we may be able to end the war right here, yes?"

  "Save the shit talking for the mutts, Otto."

  "Rafe, do you challenge this man?"

  "You bet your ass I do."

  Otto held up his hand. "Everyone outside to the back. A perlesh has been struck.

  Jay rubbed his forehead in angst and slowly followed behind. "What the hell is going on, Z?"

  "A perlesh."

  "A what?"

  "A cock-fight. And Rafe and Tristan are the two cocks."

  "For once, you're not wrong about that description."

  "Jay..."

  He moved closer to her, trying to whisper. "What is going on with you? You've been reckless with this vampire. Didn't you tell me you were on thin ice with the others? You were stolen from your realm still in chains, doesn't that bother you?"

  "It does, but it's not like this vampire had anything to do with it. He also had nothing to do with what happened to you either, Jay."

  "What happened to destroying the enemy?"

  "Things got complicated when I've seen my enemy care more for human life than a Were-shifter or a witch."

  "I don't trust him."

  "You don't have to. Trust me."

  They all gathered in a circle in the thicket clearing in the pitch black woods. Some of the Were-shifters could barely contain themselves, some howling and some partially shifting under the cover of night.

  Rafe walked into the circle and stripped off his shirt, revealing the marks of the Dan'ai—enchanted ancient symbols that appeared on the abdomen of every living Were-shifter past puberty.

  Legend had
it, the first witches who cursed the first Were-shifters used the marks to identify them for hunting, their lineage written within their flesh. Rafe had several lines of symbols scrawled on his bulked abs. He'd been around for some time.

  Jay shook his head. "He's going to fight that?"

  Zoë shrugged. "Yep. I’ve seen bigger."

  She turned to Tristan, who stood next to her. He was already shirtless and his dark hair was pulled away from his face with a rubberband. Though he wasn't huge and bulky like his opponent, she felt just as much power from him. He was all sinew and agility. She apparently experienced enough of him beneath her to know. "You sure you wanna do this, cowboy?"

  Tristan met her gaze. "Otto's not going to risk a meeting with the Green Girls without some sacrificial blood on the line. That's just how he works. Just be glad the opportunity presented itself this way. We don't really have a choice if this is the route we want to take."

  Zoë nodded. He didn't trust nor like the witches, but she was thankful he was open to protecting them all the same. Curiosity struck her. Was he agreeing to this for her?

  "I've been in bareknuckle fights before."

  But even with that, he'd barely survived a shifter bite just hours ago. Her strength was just now getting back to normal, but she couldn't risk another enthrallment or feed him.

  “Tristan, you need to watch your ass. I’m not going to be able to help you if you get bitten again. I need my strength.”

  “And so do I." He moved past her, so close she could feel his breath on her skin. Tristan turned around. "Thank you for...” He cleared his throat. “Uh, you know what I mean.”

  She grabbed his arm. “No, I don’t. Is it ‘Thank you for fucking your brains out’ or is it ‘thank you for pumping you full of slayer blood so can live another night?”

  Hmm, she made a great point. Perhaps both energized him much more than he realized. She'd made him give a shit about something. Enough to make him hope to actually survive this so he could get another opportunity to have her naked, writhing beneath him.

  That would've been the proper way to go. Tristan stepped up to her, grabbed a fist full of her hair and pulled her into a roguish kiss. Quickly, he pulled away offering her a smirk.