by Eros, Marata
Corine nods quickly, clearly sad that she's not an ultra-female ape or something.
Can't be a bad thing? Wait a second. “What do you mean ʻpure enoughʼ?”
Corine and Libby exchange a glance then turn that direct attention to me. Libby pushes a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear, her gaze assessing me.
Ten seconds slide by as my heart tries to hammer out of my chest and a fine sweat beads on my brow.
“Do you mean... that I am?” My hands tighten on Toby's small palm.
Corine gives me a smile that clearly says dumbass . “Yes. That's exactly what we're saying.”
I drop Toby's hand, shocked.
“Conrick would never personally risk himself among the humans to acquire a female unless she was a pureblood.”
I wrap my arms around Toby's little chest, snuggling against him.
“Does that ...” My words dry up. I can't say it.
But that doesn't matter, Corine says what I can't. “You'll be Conrick's mate.”
The hell I will.
Chapter 2
Murphy
Me: No love, I was just picking my arse, and happened to let Grace get ripped off by the ape blighter. emotive response high Yes—that was so the plan.
I lift my thumb off the pulse doc and the black screen mocks me as the rain soaks my hair to my scalp. Thank fuck vampires don't have temperature needs. I'd be a limp log. I whip the slim pulse device around and droplets of chilled water fling off.
Narah: Okay, so your uterus hurts. But mine was the one that just birthed two fanged babies. Clear your head, Murph. This isn't helping Grace Cline.
As though I don't understand the crux of the matter. I let that shifter take #1231. Of course, only now that she's not glued to my side can I admit that I didn't want to let her go. And that's exactly why old Mr. Hairy thought he could scoop her up.
I swallow my pride, resting my thumb back on the dock and think my reply to Narah's brain.
Me: What do you suggest?
A full minute passes without response. Then:
Narah: You could take Mollie as back up, but The Ghost probably won't approve it.
Me: Mollie's a trollop.
Narah: smiles . No more than you. If you ask me—”
I instantly depress my thumb.
Me: I didn't.
Narah: laughs. Yeah, sarcasm but you're too much alike. She's prejudice because we were all equal before as enforcers. Now, with you and me vampire, she feels like our advantage makes us better.
My smile is wide.
Me: too true
Narah: rolls eyes . Your ego is blowing up my pulse.
Drops of rain fall on her words as they fade from the crystal display. She's right. Again. I ache in my bones for my sire. For Narah to partner with me again as we did before all this. Though we bickered, the job got done and we went home accomplished and ready for the next mess that awaited us.
These ape fellas are the undetermined that reared its ugly head from the scent analysis.
Casper will have to know. The danger with the Mutables has passed, only to be replaced with these buggers.
Me: Fine.
I think contacts. Names assemble in alphabetical order and I think my selection.
Mollie's name floats to the top. My inhale is sharp, long and painful. I let the hot air out and my breath fogs. I depress my thumb.
Me: Mollie, I need your help, mate.
Mollie: Busy, mate sarcasm .
I sigh, running a palm over my face and tipping it up against the open sky. Icy drops fall on my tilted face. I look down at my screen again.
Me: I've lost #1231. Some ape blighters stole her away, and I must reacquire. But there might be a wee nest of them....
Mollie: Nice fuck-up Murph. Casper knows I take it?
I blow on my thumb and think about eating spinach. Cleans the thought pallet.
Me: Can you help a bloke or not?
Mollie lets me chew on her power of decision for an uncomfortable full minute while rain creeps down beneath my collar.
Mollie: Don't ya have to go to your coffin or something?
Bullocks. My teeth clench.
Me: I can bed down in the ground if need be but every minute our target is out keeping the gorillas entertained is a minute she can be harmed.
Mollie: Fine, where are you?
I depress my thumb, thinking location.
Mollie: What? Mitchell? You didn't give chase for very long.
I unhinge my jaw, and it aches from being clamped. I even think of Casey. Instinctively, I know that as an enforcer, he doesn't have the chops to see this bit of a disaster through.
Me: can you meet me or not, love?
Seconds pound by and I've almost decided to Lone Ranger the entire affair when her neon words float to the darkened surface of my pulse device.
Mollie: on my way.
*
Mollie
Arrogant prick.
I grab my weapon's belt, and unlike the infallible Murphy, outfit myself in rain gear.
Mr. Perfect Vampire will just fly around in his tight black t-shirt and be sublimely happy with the weather. Like the old-fashioned mailmen of the past, neither rain, sleet or shine will keep Murph from delivering.
He was insufferable before he became a vamp and so much worse now.
Our secretary fields pulse-complaints on a weekly basis about Murphy's sexual exploits.
I tell myself I'm not jealous.
Then I remember that my pulse doesn't think off the hook for dates with yours truly.
What man wants to date a level 10 proficient and bounty enforcer?
No one, that's who.
I sigh, tearing my pajamas off and tossing them into a halfway organized pile of clothing. While not dirty enough to wear for something important, I can wear them again for something else. Like today's bullshit.
Murphy crooks his finger and I come running? He doesn't deserve the back up.
But that's not fair. There's not enough of us enforcers for me to be a bitch to him. Even though every fiber of my being wants me to.
If I was introspective I'd admit there is some envy involved in my shitty attitude. But do I really want to drink blood?
No.
Do I want all the super strength, prowess, scenting ability and speed of the vampires.
Yes.
I sigh. Shouldn't be making Murphy pay because I feel inadequate. Shouldn't think Narah's a bitch because she was always aloof. And now she has babies—and husbands, if you take the side of the new politically correct movement that supernaturals are people too. Right. Maybe.
I swing my tight raincoat on, slinging my weapons belt low on my hips. Cinching the belt tight and righting the buckle to center, I slam a black beanie on my head and move through my sterile apartment, sweeping my holographic badge off the small scarred table that stands sentinel by my front door as I stride past.
Exiting, my gaze scans first left then right as I trot down my steps. Don't want a Mutable sneaking up on me. Embarrassment heats my face so much that even the cold rain that falls can't chill me.
That was a royal fuck up. If I hadn't let Murphy get under my skin, I would have been sharper about my surroundings. Emotion got the better of me and I was out of control, huffing to my ride and tunnel-visioned about the environment.
And it bit me on the ass.
Not today. Not ever again.
I storm over to my souped up car and hit my thumb on the locking pulse dock. The tumblers disengage and I open the door, sliding into my car, pissed about getting the upholstery wet.
My pulse-activated sensors sync with my brainwaves as I think the windshield wipers to swiping and music kicks on.
Rock, of course. Screaming lyrics flood the car and I instantly relax. I weave out of my tight parking stall and roll out to the street. It's dead o'clock and in sleepy, middle-of-the-night Sioux Falls, nobody's stirring. Mitchell will be even more of a stinky armpit of inactivity.
> Turning out from the cheap apartment complex where I've lived for three months, I roar through Minnesota, flashing under sleeping traffic lights that scream caution like yellow eyes.
I do eighty on I-29 and take the first Mitchell exit in just under fifty minutes.
Thinking my pulse conversation into my car's pulse framework, soothing female voice abruptly cuts through the stream of jarring music.
Enforcer Murphy one point three two miles north. Her dulcet tone informs me.
I release the wheel and the car self-navigates in that direction.
Softly illuminated letters appear.
Rest Stop.
He was resting alright.
Just as I'm trying to give Murphy a break, he wrecks it by being him.
The vehicle crawls to a stop and my headlights illuminate the live porn in front of me.
Smooth pumps dive into a female pinned to a wall. A muscular ass convulses, driving deep and my panties get wet from the sight.
Damn, damn and double-damn .
I shut the engine off and think the lights to remain on.
Hearing their moan above the rain heightens my already irritated and aroused state of mind.
I haven't gotten laid in forever, but Murphy just plows whatever stands around long enough.
Women don't mind that he's an enforcer. Hell, they don't even mind he's got fangs. I think all that has the opposite affect.
The woman's hands are pinned above her head, knees kicked wide as Murphy saws into her.
“Fuck yeah,” she says and I notice a spot of drool sliding out of her mouth.
Blood trails down her neck while Murphy fucks and feeds at the same time.
He lifts his head, quickly licking the wounds while I watch his ass pump faster than humanly possible.
I guess that makes sense. Murphy's not human anymore. But he's still a revolting specimen of a man-whore.
Then why am I watching.
He speeds but throws over his shoulder, “Just getting a quick bite, love.”
Hardy-har-har.
I fold my arms, squishing my thighs together to stop the throbbing from the erotic vision of his plunging. I can't believe I came to help him. And he's wasting time.
Then his sucking, whistling release permeates the quiet.
The woman's nails spear his back and she shouts like she's dying.
But there's a melody to orgasm that anyone alive can tell. And this chick's singing it.
Murphy's blurring rhythm slows and finally stops. He places his palms between breasts that have escaped her blouse and hikes his sizable cock inside his denims.
“Sorry about that, mate—I was starved and the lady said she was available. Just making good use of time.” His smile is as charming as he can make it.
“Yeah,” the fuck-of-the-moment breathes in a dazed reply. Her eyelids are hooded as she runs a finger down Murphy's square jaw that holds more than a five o'clock shadow.
Murphy turns, looking vital and well-fed.
Cock-juggler. I scowl at him and he grins.
The woman begins to slump down the wall. Murphy whirls quickly and catches her, easily picking her up in a cradle hold.
“You know, Murphy—”
“Don't say things you don't mean, Moll.” His grin is crooked.
Oh, I mean them. I open my mouth to tell him where to go and a second set of headlights joins mine.
It'd be funny if it weren't so serious.
When four Mutables exit the vehicle I forget that I literally caught Murphy with his pants down, humping some chick while waiting for me to arrive.
I've barely healed up from the concussion the three Mutables gave me.
And here's the thing. I'm a kickass, Level 10 proficient. When faced with humanity.
With the supernaturals? They bring an entirely new skill set to the table.
An unpredictable one.
“This is a Final Enforcement matter,” Murphy states in his heavily accented, rich baritone.
He sounds so commanding. Unfortunately, he's holding a woman who isn't wearing any panties and her skirts hiked to her waist.
She's flashing her assets to the Mutables.
The one who sort of seems to be horse or something says, “That's perfect, because we're here to do a little house cleaning.”
Shit. We've been tailed.
I jerk my unfamiliar pulse device out of the side pocket of my black cargos and it's instantly slicked by the rain.
As fat drops fall, I keep my eyes high as the first set rush me.
Long-limbs and speed are all I see before they crash into me. I don't think about what they are, I let training take over.
Until the first limb of my body shatters.
Chapter 3
Grace
“I am not being anyone's mate.” I give an incredulous look between the two of them, squeezing Toby tighter against me. “Do you even hear yourself?”
Corine's hurt expression isn't enough to stop my case of diarrhea of the mouth. It continues unabated.
“I am a daycare worker. I live in Sioux Falls. I have no money and I have no interest in being some gorilla/vampire concubine.”
Libby and Corine back up as though I have a contagious disease.
I bite the inside of my cheek. Could've handled that better.
“It's a great honor to be the mate of our alpha.” Libby's long eyelashes sweep over dark eyes and I about die on the spot.
“Maybe for you.” I stare at the two opposite looking girls. Hard. “But I'm wet, cold and freaked the fuck out. I need to take care of my little brother and then get back home. To my job.”
If I still have one.
Libby gives a vacant blink of her brown eyes at the word job then says. “You have a new job. Here.”
Nope . “Listen,” I sweep my disheveled hair behind my ear and try for reason, “I don't belong here. I have a life back there,” I point my finger toward where I think Sioux Falls is, “and I need to get back to it.”
Suddenly, a First Species guy is beside me and I give a little start and yelp.
He smiles.
I'm sure because he thinks it's disarming.
But the expression alarms me. I pinwheel backward, falling on my ass. In the hot spring water pool.
The bad news is: I can't swim.
I do all the things you're not supposed to. I flail. Panic. Go under, and take in a lungful.
Toby's screaming, and the women I gave a piece of my mind are speaking frantically with the First Species.
But none of that matters. Because I'm busy drowning.
Water fills my lungs and the last thing I see before blackness takes my sight is a looming figure, wavering from the other side of the water like a mirage.
Then blackness.
*
I wake up, feeling like somebody scoured the inside of my throat with sandpaper and my chest hurts so bad it feels like a elephant is perched on top.
I cough and the pain freezes my airway. I try sitting up and panic. Can't.
Need water.
I swallow past the desert feel of my mouth and smell a scent that permeates the total blackness I find myself in. Sweet wine fills my nostrils, and I salivate for wanting a drink.
Memory floods back.
The First Species. The women, arguing. The water. Drowning.
Toby.
I struggle but soft ties weigh me down. My mouth opens for a scream and a voice moves through the darkness like a ripple of water, “Quiet, life-bringer.”
Conrick.
I still, snapping my mouth shut, and my teeth audibly click together. Silent tears track down my face, wetting the hollows of my collarbone.
A gentle hand thumbs off the wetness and I twist my face away. “Don't touch me,” I hiss.
“As you wish.”
I can't move, but ache to cross my arms and get off my back. After a full minute of silence I can't stand it and ask the question that burns in my brain. “Where's Toby?”
> “The females, Libby and Corine attend him.”
I don't think they will hurt him.
As if reading my mind Conrick says, “He will come to no harm.”
I snort. Yeah, like I believe anything he says.
“You do not have to believe me to make it true, life-bringer.”
“Stop calling me that. My name is Grace, shouldn't my kidnapper know some stuff about me?”
“I do know that about you and much more. Unfortunately, I am not the only one who does. It is my fervent wish that I've brought you to safety before the Mutables can scent you out.”
My heart thumps faster. “What?” I swallow a croak, finding nothing that will lubricate my mouth.
“I can smell your thirst.”
I stay silent.
It's a waiting game, and neither of us speaks. Softly Conrick strokes the material of my t-shirt, lifting the damp fabric with his touch.
I ignore him.
A tearing sound erupts from my sternum and I flinch.
He chuckles in the darkness and I shiver. He's cutting away my t-shirt with something I can't see.
My heartrate picks up like a galloping horse.
The fabric gives way with a wet tear and Conrick flicks the edges of the jagged fabric aside with deliberate fingers.
He has not touched my skin.
My chest heaves as I feel his presence like a warm, sensual weight, and I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood.
When his fingers touch the waistband of my pants I gasp, “I said not to touch me.”
“I am not.”
“I won't be raped, Conrick.”
All movement stops and I can almost feel his rage like a soft weight swirling around me.
