Brayden saw red. Slamming his eyes shut, he took deep breaths to steady himself. But when he opened them again his eyes still went back to her. Her arms were tied behind her back leaving her no chance to try to cover up her nudity. Thick rope bound her with a longer piece clenched in the vampire’s hand as a leash.
The vampire said something and hauled her to a stand. Whether it was because she couldn’t see or because of injuries he didn’t know, but she stumbled, legs shaking as she stood.
The impatient vampire pulled hard on the rope, but she didn’t cry out no matter how hard her arms were pulled.
He pulled his eyes away from her with effort. The man at the stream was just finishing.
Brayden made his move. With cold deadly accuracy, he raced silently through the forest and grabbed the vampire’s head in his hands. He never saw him coming, never heard it until he felt the pressure at his head and the crack of his neck snapping. As the man fell to his knees, Brayden stabbed his dagger into his heart and moved on to the vampire at the fire.
He wished he had time to kill these men properly. To shove their faces in the fire and hear their screams of agony, but he didn’t have that kind of time. So he twisted, cracking the vampire’s neck.
The vamp holding Vanessa snapped his gaze to him. Brayden never gave him a moment to react, to plan—he exploded at him.
At the last second, the man tried to shove her in front of him, but Brayden clothes-lined the man, catching him at the throat and choking him. The force of the hit slammed him down to the ground and Brayden followed.
His fist pounded into the vampire’s face. After the second blow, he stopped struggling.
He didn’t know if he was dead or passed out because the thought never entered his mind. He only had one focus—he touched her, he had to die.
A soft sound floated by his ear...crying. That simple sound cut through the violence in him better than any knife ever could. He sat up, breathing in hard long pulls, and looked behind him.
Vanessa sat on the ground, rocking, her hands covering her face. Christ, she didn’t even know what was going on because she couldn’t see.
Brayden cut a lethal look back at the vampire under him and noted with deep satisfaction that his face was unrecognizable now. He took his blade out and jabbed it into his heart—the killing blow. He didn’t feel a single regret. In fact, he lifted the vamp’s shirt and cleaned his bloodied fist and blade on it.
Coming to a stand, he walked slowly towards Vanessa. She stiffened as she heard him and stopped rocking. Her fingers curled into the grass behind her, her tense body said she was ready to run.
“Vanessa, it’s Brayden.”
She froze for a moment then started scuttling towards him. She was about to bump into the dead vamp, so Brayden quickly knelt in front of him. Tears rolled in fat droplets down her face; her arms shook in their binding.
“It’s okay now.” God, what did he say to her? He knew how to kill, how to rescue even, but this part...was not something he was acquainted with. The aftermath.
He didn’t stop her when she crawled into his lap and sagged against him. His eyes landed on the two dead bodies, one at the stream, one at the fire he still needed to stab, and wanted to kill them again. Only this time slowly, taking his time to enjoy it.
He didn’t want to touch her but some part of him must have because he wrapped an arm around her waist and held her.
“Are they dead?”
“Very much so.” A strange feeling came over him...embarrassment. This was not a conversation he thought he’d ever have with this girl. She pulled back but still hadn’t stopped shaking as she tried to look around.
“Don’t try to open your eyes. I’ll take care of...” he’d been about to say you but that sounded too personal. “Everything,” he said instead.
“Where are my uncles?” She sounded like a little girl who desperately wanted her family right now. Again, it made him realize just how young she was, a teenager. Lykaens aged differently than humans. They aged slowly and could live incredibly long lives. But even then, compared to his dirt-old age, she was practically a newborn.
“I’m an excellent tracker if the scent is fresh so I came. They sent teams after you right away. I got here first.”
“They got Vince right?”
Worry pulled her face into a frown that had to hurt. “Yes.” She shook her head and started to move, then collapsed against him. “I can’t stand.” She mumbled as if admitting so made her weak. After what she’d just been through the last thing he saw was weakness.
He pulled his knife out of his shoulder holster and cut the thick rope around her wrists.
Then he wrapped his jacket around her. “Here put this on.” The big trench coat billowed around her small frame. He started to stand but her hand snapped out and grabbed his wrist.
Amazing considering she couldn’t open her eyes.
“Where are you going?” she asked in a high voice.
Brayden looked at the dead bodies. “Just going to take care of the bodies. I’ll be within thirty feet of you. I swear nothing’s going to happen to you now.”
“Okay,” she said but she didn’t release his hand.
“Trust me.” He used his most commanding of tones, the same one he used with soldiers.
She started nodding then released her grip on him. His coat engulfed her small form as she wrapped it around her.
Brayden grabbed each of the vamps and tossed their bodies on top of the fire. Nothing would remain of them now. Before the horrid stench of burnt flesh could meet her nose, he encouraged her to stand then lifted her in his arms.
If she hadn’t been so bruised he could run with her and make it back to the pack in half the time, but as it was, he made his way through the dense forest being careful of her injuries.
“What do you do?”
Her soft voice startled him. His chest tightened and he felt the strong urge to look away from her. He wasn’t used to being questioned, let alone with an innocent question about his life.
It felt odd.
“I’m an Elder with the Justicars.” He told himself he only answered because she’d been through a rough night. She deserved some minor conversation at the least.
“But what do you do?”
Brayden thought of his job and realized it’d probably sound incredibly boring to a young one like her. Hell, it was boring, but he loved it.
“Help packs and clans negotiate treaties, help to capture criminals, and decide on sentencing. A variety of things.”
She didn’t say anything for a long time. When she did, he wished she hadn’t.
“Why do you want me to marry that Alpha?”
He couldn’t be sure why the question threw him off. Was it because of the soft innocent way she asked it or because this was the first time she’d brought up the subject without screaming at him?
“I believe family values should be upheld. If marrying the Alpha would bring peace and prosperity between the packs then it is for the best. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”
She made a sound akin to a snort. “He’s old.”
Brayden straightened and resisted the urge to say he was much, much older.
“That Dmetri guy’s old but he doesn’t look it, ya know? But the Alpha looks it. He’s fifty and looks seventy, no joke. How can I possibly go through with that?” He had no idea what to tell her so he kept his mouth shut.
“You don’t look old.”
She squirmed in his arms then stretched her arms out to wind them around his neck.
“Sorry, my wrists hurt.” She sounded embarrassed.
Brayden started walking faster. When she didn’t tense or complain, he broke into a jog.
He needed to get her home before she started prying into his life even more.
“How old are you?”
A pause then, “Old.”
Sounding displeased she said, “Figures. Everyone’s old but me.”
“Do you hu
rt badly?” His eyes flew open at the question. He’d been thinking it but he hadn’t meant to ask. But then he felt her arms stiffen around him.
“No. Who were those men?”
“Members of Claude’s clan here to do his bidding.”
“Why does he want to hurt us?”
Simple questions that any innocent would ask, but the answers were much more complicated. In the end, he decided to just tell her the truth. It made things much easier on him, besides she wasn’t so young she wouldn’t understand.
“He wants to kill the Kategans so he can gain control of the pack.” Her hands clenched around his shoulders. “What? The pack would never follow him, even if he could somehow become a lykaen and make them change loyalty.”
“Perfect logic, but then again you’re not insane, he is. He believes a lot of crazy ideas and has enough determination to start a war.”
“And hurt people,” she said softly.
Brayden nodded before he remembered she couldn’t see him. “Yes.”
“Why have you been so mean to me?”
Brayden faltered a step but righted the action quickly. “I haven’t been mean. I’ve been as I always am.”
She laughed softly. “I see. You’re just a mean old guy then.” Brayden didn’t know how to respond to that so he didn’t. As he stepped over a fallen tree, he spotted the Kategan land in the distance.
“We’re not far now.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything.
He could smell the burnt wood and smoke that covered the pack as he neared it. A heavy fog sat over the pack because of the humidity from the rain. He supposed it was metaphorical in a strange way. Damn, now he was thinking sappy thoughts.
“Thank you.”
He was silent for a long time. As they crossed over into Kategan land he said, “You’re welcome.”
Chapter 16
The black cloud finally lifted from the pack and streaks of brilliant sunlight flooded the landscape. Though, Dmetri thought, it wasn’t a particularly nice sight. Two of the homes were destroyed and now in the process of being rebuilt and the pack was agitated. Rightfully so, too.
Dmetri finished lugging some of the bigger pieces of debris into the big pile that’d be burned in a bonfire later. God, this was not what he’d expected when he came here. Helping the Kategans, okay, but now he was cleaning like a maid.
A look at the sun overhead told him it was about noon so he made his way to Christine’s house. He hadn’t had much time to be around her in the past few days with all the clean-up and rebuilding going on. He planned to rectify that today. The last time he saw her she’d been adamant about not being his and not moving in with him. While he loved a good challenge, he wished she’d agree already. He was growing impatient...and worried.
He made his way down Christine’s street. The narrow concrete walkway to her cabin was covered in black silt and ash. He stepped through it in his black loafers and knocked on the front door. A strange excitement filled him, made his heart feel heavy in his chest and beat faster than normal. If he wasn’t careful she might get under his skin. As soon as he thought it, he laughed.
Yeah, right.
The door swung open, and his smile turned into a grimace. The woman who answered was older than Christine with curly blonde hair that reeked of hairspray. The woman eyed him like he was a disgusting insect she wanted to squash.
“Yes?”
“Where’s Christine?”
She arched a thin eyebrow at his command then stood in the doorway blocking him. “She can’t see you. She’s busy.”
“Doing what?” He’d rather have his teeth pulled then have to ask these questions. Did none of these lykaens know who he was?
“I don’t see why that’s any business of yours, vampire.” He narrowed his eyes on the shrewd woman. “She’s mine that makes everything she does my business.”
The woman’s mouth dropped open in astonishment and then she tossed her bi-gheaded hair back and laughed.
“Yours? She’ll never be yours. And if you know what’s best for you you’ll stay away from her.”
“Are you threatening me?” he asked in a low voice.
She crossed her arms but didn’t back down. “Consider it what you will. Christine is my daughter and I will only see the best for her. Not a vampire.” She almost sneered when she said it.
He’d had enough of this. “Where is she? Christine,” he called out. No response came.
“As I said, she’s busy.”
Dmetri’s patience snapped like a piece of thread. His palm slammed against the front door sending it flying open. He stalked past the little woman and made his way through the house. She trailed after him in outrage.
“Christine!” When he found the house empty, he turned back around on her. “Where is she?” he asked slowly.
She must have seen the lethal intent in his eyes because she took a step back, eyes widening a fraction. “She’s taking care of Vanessa.”
Dmetri spun out of the cabin before she could mutter another word to him. He made his way to the spare cabin Vanessa was staying in since Brayden rescued her. When he reached it, he didn’t bother knocking but flung open the door.
Christine and Vanessa turned to him with wide stares.
“I was looking for you,” he growled.
The shock left her eyes and turned to laughter. “I’m honored, Dmetri.” Yeah, yeah, she should be. He closed the door and took a seat across the room in the only other available chair. Vanessa rested on a futon and looked as though she’d been in a war zone.
Christine applied some kind of salve over the girl’s eyes and lip where busted skin showed.
“All right, all done.” She put her supplies back in her brown satchel. “Who do you want to come and hang out with you? Rome, Darien, Vane, Vera?”
“No, no one right now. I’m just going to go to sleep for awhile.” They said their goodbyes and left the cabin.
“You look lovely.”
She turned to him and laughed. “I do not. My hair’s a mess, I have sticky ointment on my fingers, and my jeans are dirty.”
Dmetri looked at all the problems she just noted and realized he hadn’t noticed any of them.
“Still lovely.”
She blushed and rolled her eyes but he could see her eyes glittering at his words.
“I would like you to come with me.”
“Where?”
“Many places. My home, France, Russia, Venice. I could take you anywhere you wanted.” She gasped in surprise. He hadn’t even meant to say it though it was all true. “Just say you’re mine.”
She shook her head as if she had a bee stuck in her hair. He almost laughed...almost.
“All right then, I’ve made arrangements for us to have lunch together.” Her smile made his skin warmer, the day brighter. “Another date?”
“Of course, I like dating you.”
* * *
They walked in companionable silence to his guest cabin.
“Come in and have a seat.”
She sat down at the small dinner table and fiddled with the white tablecloth. “What are we having to eat?”
“You, my sweet, are having chicken Florentine and I’m having a glass of B.” She chuckled. “Sounds great.”
He made his way to the fridge, pulled out a casserole container, and started plating it.
“Did you make this yourself?”
“No, since I can’t stand to taste the food I’m sure what I’d make would taste horrible. I talked to Alison Kategan and had her make it for me. I hear she is quite the cook.” He set the plate in front of her and poured himself a glass of red liquid, thicker than wine.
It was an odd sight to see and she found herself surprised even though he’d just told her he’d be having some.
She didn’t hesitate to dig into the food. She finished chewing a big bite and said, “You’re right. This is amazing.”
He inclined his head to her before taking the seat across f
rom her. Once again, his much larger body seemed to take up the entire space, yet he wasn’t a bodybuilder type that physically took up space. He just had a presence about him that spoke of power.
“Any news on Claude?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not yet, but he’ll slip up again. I’ll get him before anyone else gets hurt.”
“How’s your leg?”
He shifted until he was leaning back in his seat with one arm thrown across the back, his long legs stretched out in front of him. The dark look he gave her sent her stomach fluttering.
“Why don’t you pull my pants down and take a look?”
She choked on the bite of food she’d taken and swallowed hard over the lump of meat in her throat. As soon as it was down, she started laughing.
He sighed in defeat. “Forever laughing at me.”
She controlled her twitching lips, barely. “I can’t help it. You’re so funny!” He looked up as if searching for guidance. “I am not amusing, Christine.”
“Disagree.”
He jumped out of his seat in the closest thing to rage since the attack. The change was so sudden, she could only sit there, stunned.
“I am not funny!” Instead of his usual contained, seductive voice, he shouted. Christine pushed herself as far back in her seat as she could as she gaped up at him.
He started to speak, then closed his mouth and jabbed his hand through his hair several times. “I...” He shook his head, sending his long blonde hair slapping around him. “You...” After a moment, he seemed to get control over himself. He took several deep breaths then leveled a hard look on her. It was the only way to describe it, the look pierced her, rooted her in place as if she were frozen in ice.
“What are you trying to say, Dmetri?”
He flattened his palms on the table and towered over her. “I’ve had enough of this. I always get what I want, Christine. Always. When I want a woman, I have her. When I want a house, I buy it.”
Christine had a sinking feeling in her stomach, and at the same time her breathing quickened with an emotion that scared her too much to think about. As the protest formed on the tip of her tongue, he made a slashing move with his hand that silenced her.
T. A. Grey Page 10
