by Talyn Scott
“No, yes, I mean… I was listening. I want you to do most of those things to me. The rest we’ll discuss, say, never.” When Archer sighed, she asked, “When are you coming home, by the way?” She wedged her phone between her shoulder and ear. “Because I’m cooking something special tonight, and I want to surprise you. Tatum talked me into buying a dress that you can shred with your claws. In fact, I beg you to.”
She used her elbow to lower the window after she hit the road joining Captiva Island to Sanibel Island. She stuck her nose near the open window, always thinking the air was crisper here. Perhaps harsher? And she wondered if it had anything to do with the underground vampire lairs that defied all logic for those living virtually below sea level.
A pelican swooped in front of her and rode the current of the car ahead as she listened to Archer’s recitation of the top ten reasons why he loved eating her pussy. But she decided to interrupt him with a relevant question. “Why is it every time I ask for help in searching for my father, all three of you try to distract me? Yes, you do. It’s like the three of you know something that I don’t.” Though when she had confronted them about it this morning over breakfast, they’d all assured her with promises and soothing touches. How could she express how important this was to her? “I shouldn’t have started this on the phone. I’ll see you in a little while. Bye”
The pelican’s big wings sprawled out, nearly blocking her view. She tossed her phone in the vicinity of her purse and blew her horn. “I can’t see!” The pelican moved out of her way, but not before it retaliated on her hood. She clenched her teeth. “Thanks a fucking lot!”
Hot on the heels of her temper flareup, Captiva Island came into view. She’d spent a lot of time here during her childhood, most of those memories still with her. Up ahead sat The Wild Lime in all its dilapidated glory. Once a local four star restaurant featured in cuisine articles worldwide, when they required reservations four months in advance, her father and his family had taken Kalen there almost every weekend. She studied the old haunt, saddened by its current shape yet encouraged that it was up for sale.
Maybe this was a sign.
The Wild Lime was where she first appreciated the art of cuisine at a very early age. The very reason she’d become a chef, Kalen realized, and her heart tightened as she pulled into the parking lot and shut off the car and opened the door.
“You must be Kalen Young.”
Kalen adjusted her dress as she stepped out of the car, wishing she’d had enough time to change. “And you must be Judy.” She shook her new realtor’s hand. “Thanks for showing the property on such short notice. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the name on your list.”
“I’ll be honest.” They walked up the sidewalk, stopping so Judy could unlock the front door. “The Wild Lime has been on the market for a year now.” She struggled to pull the door open. “I would have met you here five minutes after you’d called.”
“I won’t be discouraged by that.”
Finally, the door creaked open and an unhealthy dose of stale air, dust, and grease hit Kalen’s sensitive palate. She stepped inside and looked around. “Okay, maybe I’m a little discouraged.”
Judy chewed her lip contemplatively. “The owner is selling it as is.”
This was fairly obvious. The walls in the waiting area — or the holding tank — were lined with lime vinyl benches. All cracked or torn, many were repaired with strategic strips of duct tape. Ahead, the ginormous salt water tank that used to hold living coral, colorful fish, and eels was filled to the top with… “Plastic limes.”
Judy motioned for her to step into the dining room. “The Wild Lime has changed hands many times. The last proprietors were trying to attract a youthful crowd.”
Attract or scare off? Kalen rubbed her forehead, reaching for a menu listing the daily specials. Half of it stuck to the table by grease, though she managed to peel off the bottom half. “Fried candy bars?”
“Again, youthful crowd.”
“So… I can see that worked out for them.” Kalen walked through the dining room and reminded herself why she was here. The view. She sucked in a breath, pressing her nose against the glass, and watched the sun starting to set in the Captiva horizon.
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Incredible.” Gold glinted off the top of the waves. “When I was a child, Dad used to bring us here in his boat.” She glanced down and spotted the dock where patrons used to pull up after a casual day on the water to dine. “Couples would dance on the deck, and I would laugh because they were silly.”
“Yeah, about that… I really want to make this sale, but you seem like a nice lady.”
Kalen faced Judy, raising a brow. “And?”
“Sentiment never makes sound business decisions. And rumor has it that the usual clientele for this place was odd… sometimes even violent.”
“On most days, Judy, I would take your advice. But today I’m living dangerously.” Kalen gestured to the back. “How about a look at the kitchen?”
When they passed the swinging doors leading into the prep area, Kalen spotted rat droppings next to a chewed up case of Key Lime cookie mix. Pipes shot straight out of the wall, and there was no sink in sight. “So there’s no appliances included?”
“Someone broke in here a few months ago and ripped them off, but there is a saving grace.” Judy clicked on her tiny heels until she reached a double-wide brushed steel door. “This walk in refrigerator unit was the last major purchase of the previous owners.” She wiggled the handle, and the door opened smoothly. “It runs perfectly, not that you can see today because the power is off,” she qualified. “But all it needs is a bleaching out with, perhaps, a power washer.”
Kalen walked through the door. “This is actually impressive.” She looked past the filth and spotted high shelves, low sliding drawers, and overhead hooks waiting for the catch of the day. “How many drains are here?” She toed a produce crate and ventured to the back, spotting a small working sink.
The door slammed.
Kalen spun around right as Judy’s blood-curdling scream echoed from the kitchen.
“Shit!”
Kalen bolted to the door, gripping the handle with both hands, but she couldn’t open it. “Judy!”
Ice cold fingertips ran over her arm. She flipped around, placing her back against the door. “Who’s there?” No response, and with her near-immortal eyes, she couldn’t see anything, either.
From the kitchen, Kalen heard metal pots slamming against the cinder-block walls.
More screams from Judy.
Keeping her back against the door, she thought she spotted a shadow leaping out. Anger washing over her fear, Kalen glared at it. “Who are you?”
Another shriek from Judy, followed by the sounds of metal utensils clanging on the floor.
A strangled scream left Kalen’s throat when glowing pupils looked straight at her. She reached to the side, searching blindly for a makeshift weapon when the door flew open behind her. She stumbled back into a male’s arms.
“Kalen, what is it?”
She shook her head, pointing a shaking finger at the darkened refrigerator. Vampyr Vojak Sage pushed her behind him, extended his claws, and glided into the refrigerator. “There’s nothing here, Kalen. I sense nothing.”
But something had touched her, hadn’t it? “I thought I saw eyes,” she said, rubbing the sudden chill from her arms. “Where’s Judy?”
“The human?”
“She’s my realtor.”
Judy burst through the door with an air of determination and a crow bar high in her hand. “Oh.” She stopped short, her eyes looking up, up, up, until they reached Sage’s face. “Oh,” she repeated.
Frustrated, Kalen took the crowbar from her grip in case she dropped it on her foot, due to her Sage-inspired trance. “Why were you screaming like that?”
She answered Kalen but kept her eyes fixed on Sage. “Rat.”
Sage’s lips twitched. “Do you always
kill rats with a crowbar? I hear there are exterminators for that. Might save the mess for you.”
“His eyes are like a…”
Wet dream? “I know, Judy.” Kalen couldn’t blame the woman. Sage’s eyes were incredible, and so was the rest of him. Instead of his fighting leathers, he wore black tailored pants that strained with each step and a charcoal button-down rolled up to his forearms, which showcased the ink twining down his arms. His hair was pulled back at his nape, with a few loose strands hanging down. “Take deep breaths, and don’t look him square in the eyes. You’ll be okay.”
Judy gestured to the crowbar. “You were stuck in the fridge, so I was going to get you out. I suppose you don’t need a crowbar when you have him handy.” Then she turned crimson, covering her mouth. “I can’t believe I said that out loud.”
Kalen stepped forward and patted her arm. “Can I make an offer on the place, today?”
“An offer, here?” Sage asked.
Although she’d discussed buying a restaurant with her males last night, Kalen’s decision was hers alone, and she wondered why Sage was making it his business. “Yes, I’d like to buy this place.”
“Would you excuse us, Judy?”
Judy’s eyes glazed over at the sound of her name on Sage’s lips. She stepped out of the prep kitchen on wobbly knees.
He reached a hand to Kalen’s throat, and traced the tender area Mason had bitten. “You carry the mark of a Beta Beast.”
“Why are we discussing this now?”
“Because you cannot purchase this property on vampire turf, that’s why.” He cupped her face in his big hands, running his thumbs over her cheeks. “That mark symbolizes more than you must realize. You not only belong to your males but also to Pack.”
Her heart hit the floor. “I can’t buy The Wild Lime… ever?”
Sage shook his head. “Build a restaurant on Sanibel, instead.”
“It’s not the same.” She hardly had any memories of her childhood, much less good ones. “No, it’s not the same at all.”
“More importantly than this restaurant, Kalen, is the fact that you ventured into vampire territory without permission.”
She balked. “Permission from whom?”
“Your males.”
Chapter Fifteen
Kalen apologized to Judy with a promise to meet up with her for Sanibel Island properties, instead. She tried not to stomp out of The Wild Lime in a fit of anger and disappointment.
She needed permission from her males to set foot on Captiva Island?
Really?
Suddenly, her anger fell when she spotted a small card placed beneath her windshield wiper. She pulled it out and flipped it over, shocked to see her grandfather’s old address scrawled on the back. Kalen tapped it on the palm of her hand a few times while she thought it through. There was no doubt the writing was masculine, and she hadn’t made it a secret that she was looking for her father, no matter what her males had insisted.
Could Dad be trying to reconnect with her?
She opened her purse and gripped her phone, then had second thoughts. If she called any of her males, they’d only deter her, and her gut said this card had to do with Dad. She shoved her phone back in her purse, tossed the card in, too, because Kalen knew the address by heart, and started on her way.
Another ten minutes passed before she pulled up to The Bird House on Purple Heron Road. Kalen couldn’t recall if Chicago’s elite named their estates, but when Captiva Island had begun its life, money led the way and everyone knew where money lived by name. When comparing money to power, though, there was no comparison to immortals.
Kalen eyed the Mercedes parked to the right as she slid into her grandfather’s old drive. She shut off her rental, gathered her purse, and stepped onto the seashell-filled drive. Her heels weren’t the best shoes to be wearing while dodging mini potholes, but Kalen managed to reach the front double doors painted a faded Hyacinth blue without twisting either ankle.
She had no idea what she was going to say, but that didn’t stop her from raising her hand to knock. The left door opened suddenly, and she nearly rapped on a man’s chest. Kalen looked up… and up… and up. “Syon?”
“Good afternoon, Kalen,” Commander Syon said as he stood to the side, holding the door open for her. “Or really, it’s more like dusk, wouldn’t you say?”
Why was he here? Her heart sank with dread and disappointment. A blonde, six and a half foot disappointment. His smile was startlingly wolfish today, all teeth… sharp teeth.
“Afternoon,” she greeted him coldly, raking a fingernail over a wooden cross discreetly imbedded inside the threshold’s woodwork.
He glanced between her face and where her hand had landed, studying the cross for half a heartbeat. “Why do humans think that will keep us out?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Come inside.”
She took a tentative step in, thinking she’d rather paint her body with sugar syrup, plant her naked ass atop the largest red anthill on the island, and let the little shits do their worst than to be around this cunning vampire.
He tilted his head to the side, studying her, the late afternoon sun illuminating the golden strands in his platinum hair. The way he shone was wholly unnatural, and she wondered if humans ever noticed. “I smell that you’ve lost your virginity, Kalen.”
“That’s a real conversation starter.” In a flash, she caught a weird glimpse of something extra rolling behind his irises. His rising Species, she realized. Had she made him that angry to release his vampire? A tremor tickled her spine, and stopping her release of fear was impossible. In response to her fresh adrenalin, he rubbed his chin, breathing through his fangs.
“I’m not trying to frighten you.” He searched her throat, blatantly looking for a claiming bite. “Apart from the official full moon mating, you are pretty much off the market then.”
“This wasn’t why you brought me here, was it?” She looked up to meet those unearthly eyes, repressing a shudder. Had she ever thought he was handsome? She couldn’t imagine another touching her besides Archer, Mason, and Jude.
“Partly so, yes.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Okay.” He gestured to another set of double doors. “Shall we?”
“Grandfather’s study,” she muttered more to herself than to him.
“You remember this house pretty well for someone who is be-spelled.” He led her in the way males do. Unlike humans, vampires and werewolves usually walked before females or women out of instinct. Not out of disrespect to women, but because males wanted to enter a room ahead of females in order to shield them from any possible lurking danger.
“My memories are none of your concern.” She shook her head numbly, walking though after him while recalling the last time she’d stepped inside these four walls. “And quite frankly, Syon, I’m surprised you’re still messing with me after my mates threatened your very existence for hassling me.”
“I never hassled you.”
“That’s what people like you say because you see nothing wrong with your behavior.”
“Psychology?” he smirked. “I must have missed that lecture.”
“Narcissists usually miss lectures.”
She sat down in a mahogany leather wing chair that creaked under her, and Kalen figured it hadn’t been used in… Well, perhaps since the last time she’d sat in it. “Why would the owners let you waltz in here?”
“The new owners know nothing,” Syon said with a dismissive wave. “They’re winter residents, still in Ohio as we speak.”
“Then what’s this all about?”
“Kalen,” a familiar voice rushed over her.
She gasped, jumping up. “Daddy!”
“It’s me, love.” His hand met his throat, the same way Kalen’s did when she got nervous or upset. “By God, you look just like your mother.”
Tears burned her eyes, her arms lifting to hug him. But she couldn’t. Her arms simply moved
through him. “Daddy, why can’t I hug you?”
“This is it.” He sat down in the chair next to her, and Kalen’s knees buckled.
Syon cupped her elbow as she ass-planted in the chair. “What do you mean, this is it?”
“As punishment, I straddle the molecular line between misting and corporeal form. Forever.”
“What happened?”
He took a long moment to answer. “I practiced a rare black arts mixture, a combination of Druid and Vojak, and it backfired.”
“No wonder you sent me away.”
“And never came to visit you,” he said, nodding his head. “I couldn’t let you see me like this, but after I heard through Syon you were back in Southwest Florida looking for me. I sent word for him to bring you here. It was time you knew.”
She looked at Syon, really examined him. “What do you have to do with this?”
“In her will, your mother asked me to be your guardian. A Coven Guard always watched over you until you left your Youngling years. And thereafter, I’ve had Carther with you during your adult life.”
“No wonder Carther never asked anything in return for feeding me.” Her only vampire friend was working for Syon? She shook her head, another wave of disappointment walloping her.
“Carther knows nothing of this, Kalen,” Syon assured her. “He’s just a do-gooder like Dru, so I took advantage and asked him to do something he couldn't refuse.” He shrugged, arrogance dripping from him. “Protect a female.”
“My life is…”
“It’s not what I wanted for you, that’s for sure.” Syon looked away for a moment. “I’d always meant to send you back to Pack, only because that’s the way your mother would have wanted it. That is, if she’d been in her right mind upon her death. But your father be-spelled you before I’d arrived, and refused to remove any of the spells.” He rolled his eyes. “After all, he’d already been turned into a Phantom, what could I do, beat his submission out of him? So I agreed to send you away from the nonsense of your true family, to send you into the human world.” He flung his hands outwardly towards her father. “Blame him for your time and memories lost, not me.”
