The Magic Hunt (Midnight Hunters)

by Raand, L. L.

  *

  Daniela hurried down the hallway with the Were host curled in her arms. The Were breathed shallowly, muscles faintly trembling, a low moan emanating from her chest. Daniela barely noticed the young female’s weight as she glided through the semidarkness. She had only one goal: to feed, to fill the dark chasm that consumed her, slowly driving her mad. The smell of fresh blood on the Were’s throat and breasts and belly ripped at the threads of her tenuous control. Her incisors throbbed, her mouth filled with feeding hormones, and her mind hazed with crimson fog. Bloodlust beat at the fiber of her being. If she took her, she could ease the terrible pain that pulsed through every cell. If she took her now the pain would abate, the emptiness would be filled—

  She couldn’t. The mistress had not given her permission to feed. She would be punished. Locked away. Starved. Worse, she would be banished from her mistress’s presence, cut off from the sensual bliss of her mistress’s power. She would rather walk into the sun than be exiled from her mistress’s chambers. She had begged to be turned, begged to be bound. If only the hunger would relent. Blindly, she found the door handle to one of rooms reserved for hosts, pushed it open, and hurriedly laid the somnolent Were on the single bed against the wall.

  “Please.” The naked female arched, her breasts and belly glistening with sex-sheen. A fine line of golden pelt scored her lower abdomen. She was still covered with blood and her own sexual emissions. Her scent was intoxicating. “Take more. Please. I need…”

  Daniela’s lips drew back, and she hissed. Lust clouded her senses—the form on the bed was featureless, nothing more than heat and blood and pulsing life. Food. Release. Pleasure.

  Almost unconsciously she checked that the container holding the restorative compound on the small nearby nightstand was full. The Were would wake in the morning and consume the supplement and leave no worse for the experience. But if Daniela took her—

  Daniela forced herself to back away. One trembling step at a time. Finally she reached the door, stumbled out into the hall, and closed it.

  I give you permission to avail yourself of my prisoner.

  Daniela ghosted down the hall to the heavy metal door at the far end. A human servant stood guard, nodding deferentially as she approached. She was the mistress’s handmaiden, and she had free rein of the lair. She ignored him, already tasting the sweet tang of her prey’s blood. She pressed her hand to the plate on the wall that recognized those with access to the prison chambers. The door slid soundlessly open and she passed inside.

  Another long hallway stretched in front of her, dim ceiling lights illuminating closed doors, some with foot-square glass view plates, others with thick metal bars. Not all the cells were occupied, and of those that were, not all held prisoners. Some held Vampires being punished for all manner of indiscretions with solitary confinement—completely solitary. The Vampire inmates were not allowed to feed while serving their sentences. The other cells were occupied by humans or Weres who had violated the club rules or had displeased Francesca in some other way.

  Daniela rushed along the narrow corridor to the last cell, keyed in the combination on a lock pad, and slipped inside. Deep underground, the windowless cell was dark except for the faint glow from a row of small lights along the floor, but she didn’t need light to sense her prey.

  The sweet aroma of the blood rushing through the prisoner’s veins was a siren’s call, and Daniela could see her clearly enough. A female reclined on the bed in dark tights and a gauzy white shirt with flowing sleeves, the collar open wide to expose her neck and the tops of her small, round breasts. She was barefoot, her collar-length, chestnut hair shaggy, her eerily beautiful otherworldly face calm. Below the cuffs of the white shirt, iron bands encircled her wrists, connected by a short length of chain to a ring in the wall. Iron, the one material that rendered Fae magic powerless.

  The prisoner turned her head, studied Daniela. “I wondered if you would come to visit. Did you just come to talk?”

  Daniela hissed, beyond conversation, beyond thought, beyond restraint. She didn’t bother to cast her thrall. The Fae were immune. She launched herself across the room, her mouth at the female’s neck a heartbeat later, her incisors slicing into flesh.

  Torren arched, the force of Daniela’s feeding hormones exploding through her body. The burning wound in her neck dulled beneath the orgasm that exploded an instant later. Daniela writhed on top of her, her hips spasming with each desperate swallow. Daniela had taken her before, but never so violently, so mindlessly. Tonight the Vampire was deep in bloodlust, and Torren imagined Francesca had tormented her for a long time, starving her just to the edge of control. Vampire games. Not so different from the games the Queen of Thorns played, and Torren was used to playing games. Her body might respond to Daniela’s enforced sexual stimulation, but she was not susceptible to bloodlust or thrall. She could think, and while she could think, she could plan. She’d been planning for this moment since the night the Vampire Regent had taken her as a blood slave.

  “Let me give you more than my blood,” Torren whispered in Daniela’s ear, infusing each word with the Fae power of persuasion. “Let me give you everything you need.”

  Daniela whimpered, lost in lust, her body wild with need.

  “Let me fill you,” Torren urged. “Free my hands.”

  With Daniela’s incisors still deep in her flesh, Torren twisted, turning their bodies so Daniela was beneath her. Her blood ran in warm rivulets down her throat. Daniela’s need drenched the air. Torren edged her thigh between Daniela’s, felt the hot, slick evidence of her need. She pushed her cuffed hands low, just barely able to brush the Vampire’s clitoris with a teasing stroke. She pushed her power against Daniela’s shields.

  “Daniela, let me inside you. Let me fuck you.”

  Blindly, Daniela fumbled at the locks in the cuffs, the ones she released to allow Torren to eat and bathe. She whimpered, “Please. Now.”

  “Yes, now,” Torren whispered as her hands came free, and she wrapped Daniela’s mind in the mist of forgetting.

  Chapter Three

  Drake and Sylvan crossed the Compound on their way to the nursery, stopping frequently so Sylvan could connect with the Weres passing by, all of whom wanted to greet her. All of whom needed the sense of safety and community she provided. Finally they reached the two-story building that housed both the infirmary and the nursery. The two sentries guarding the door saluted as Sylvan approached, and she paused to let her power enfold them before continuing inside. The hallway running the length of the building through the treatment area was empty except for another sentrie standing guard at the fortified entrance to the nursery wing. He snapped to attention, an assault rifle slanted across his chest.

  “Any unauthorized visitors?” Sylvan asked.

  “No, Alpha,” Alex said. “Only those on the list you approved.”

  Sylvan merely nodded, slapped her hand to the sensor on the wall, and moved on as the steel-reinforced doors slid open.

  “You’ve added extra security.” Drake kept stride beside her, resting one hand lightly on her back. Sylvan’s wolf seemed calmest when they had physical contact. “Do you think we have a threat to our young inside our walls?”

  Sylvan halted abruptly, gold shards glinting in the blue depths of her eyes. “A month ago I never would have believed one of my wolves would betray me, but Andrew is dead because I was not vigilant. That will never happen again.”

  “I’m not complaining about the security,” Drake said, only too aware of how vulnerable their young would be until they could shift at will. Theirs were not the only young in the nursery to be protected, either—Raina’s cubs and several other Were young were also in the communal training area. Drake sighed. “They’ll be glad to see you.”

  “I know you don’t like their being here.”

  “I won’t pretend differently, but I understand the need for it.” Drake stroked Sylvan’s back. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish we could take them som
ewhere, just the four of us—alone, and forget everything else.”

  Stopping again, Sylvan grasped her shoulders and kissed her hard. She rubbed her cheek over Drake’s. “I’m sorry. If I were anyone else—”

  Drake gripped her shirt, kissed her back. “If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t love you. And I wouldn’t be worrying about offspring because I wouldn’t have any. I’m here, and so are they, because we are yours. I wouldn’t change that or anything about you.”

  “You honor me.”

  “No, I love you, even though you have a hard time accepting it.”

  Sylvan laughed shortly. “You know me too well.”

  “Not well enough, but I’ve got a lifetime to learn.” Drake took her hand. “Come, Alpha. Your daughters sense you, and they’re growing impatient.”

  “They take after their Prima that way.” Sylvan grinned for the first time in a long time.

  The newborn annex was a large room with open cubicles along one wall that held cribs and a central open-air courtyard, accessible through a set of double glass doors, where the young could play. Another pair of armed Weres stood watch outside. The annex doors opened, and Niki Kroff, Sylvan’s second-in-command, strode out. She halted when she saw them.

  “Alpha. Prima. I didn’t expect you.”

  “Problem?” Sylvan asked.

  “No, Alpha. Everything is quiet. I was just visiting Sophia.” She looked from Sylvan to Drake. Nearly as attuned to Sylvan as Drake, she would sense Sylvan’s agitation. “I can stay if—”

  “No, we won’t be long. Convene the centuri along with the captain of the guard, Alpha Carras, and the Vampire warlord in my office. One hour.”

  “Yes, Alpha.” Niki hesitated. “If we’re convening a Were war council, the Vampire shouldn’t—”

  “The warlord needs to be there. See to it.”

  Niki stiffened. “Yes, Alpha.”

  Sylvan smiled thinly. Niki and Lara had once been inseparable: littermates, sometimes bedmates, and lifelong friends. Their relationship had always been complex and was now even more so. Lara was a Vampire, and Niki had always held the species in low regard. Now Niki was blood addicted, and she had hosted for Lara more than once. The effort it took Niki to repel the mindless desire to exchange her blood for the sexual pleasure of a Vampire bite, and her pain at losing her connection with Lara, only added to her anger that Lara had been turned. The greater her frustration and pain, the more she took it out on her old friend.

  “Lara is our ally,” Sylvan said softly, “and your friend. Try to remember that.”

  “As my Alpha commands,” Niki said, her face stony.

  Niki strode past them and the door shut behind her, silently enclosing them in the innermost section of the nursery, the true heart of the Compound. Above them, a huge skylight opened to the evening sky. The air was thick with forest scents—evergreens, fallen leaves, mushrooms and moss, the tantalizing whispers of prey. Sophia sat with Roger on the far side of the room, each of them holding a madly wriggling pup—one silver with wild blue eyes, the other midnight with eyes of deepest black. Kira and Kendra. Drake caressed Sylvan’s arm.

  “We have an hour until you convene the war council,” Drake said. “For one hour, I don’t want you to think of anything except your family.”

  Sylvan slid her hand around the back of Drake’s neck and squeezed. “As you will, Prima.”

  “Go then,” Drake said, laughing, “before they hurt themselves.”

  Sylvan rumbled, and the silver and black wolf pups suddenly stilled, their glinting eyes tracking the room and fixing on Sylvan. Their ears came forward, their tails straightened, and they yipped in unison, sharp and demanding. Sylvan laughed, and power, pure and bright, rolled through the room.

  Sophia, her golden hair so pale it was nearly white, laughed an instant later, her joy free and unfettered. Roger’s baritone joined hers, and the simmering rage reverberating from Sylvan’s heart calmed. Her grip on Drake’s neck gentled, and heat flooded Drake’s chest. Desire rose within her and Sylvan’s grumble deepened. She looked at Drake through wolf’s eyes and her message was clear. Mine. Now.

  “Soon,” Drake whispered. “I promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Sylvan said and strode toward the young. She brushed a hand over Sophia’s cheek, slung an arm around Roger’s shoulder. “These two are a noisy pair.”

  Sophia smiled. “They felt you coming. They shifted just a minute ago.”

  “The first time all week,” Roger said, his pride apparent.

  “They can smell the hunt on me,” Sylvan murmured, holding out her arms. Roger and Sylvia passed the pups to her and she cradled them both in the crook of her arm, drawing Drake closer with the other. “They want to run.”

  “When?” Drake asked.

  “Very soon.” Sylvan hefted them, rubbed her face over theirs, lifted her head so they could lick her throat and jaws. She kept her chin just above theirs, a reminder of her dominance. “They’re getting bigger every day.”

  Sylvan was right. Their coats were thick and sleek, their limbs longer, their round, furry bodies beginning to elongate. Sylvan’s young, bearing the blood of generations of Alpha Weres, were stronger than any of the other young in the nursery, even those much older. Their early shift to pelt was a sign of the dominant wolf Weres they would become. Callan and Fala’s son, born only a few days after Kira and Kendra, had yet to shift. He might not shift for months, possibly not even then.

  Drake hadn’t known what to expect as her young grew, but when she’d agreed to move them to the communal nursery, she’d talked to the maternals who had attended Timberwolf young for generations. None could remember any pups who had shifted so soon after birth, not even Sylvan herself. Drake wondered if part of their unusual early maturity was because she was not a born Were, but mutia, turned as a result of clandestine research that had been undertaken by humans to destroy them. As the primary mitochondrial donor, whatever she was, so were her young.

  “They’re healthy and strong.” Sylvan nuzzled Drake’s neck. “You worry needlessly.”

  “I can see how strong they are.” Drake shook off the melancholy. She was a doctor, a scientist. What she needed was answers, and she knew how to get them. She’d asked Sylvan to put her worries aside for an hour. She could do the same. She took Kira from Sylvan, cradled her on her shoulder, murmured to her softly. “You want to run with your Alpha, precious one?”

  Kira licked her ear, nipped playfully, and Drake laughed, burying her face in the soft silver fur.

  After a few minutes, she and Sylvan took the pups to the play area and settled on the ground with them, letting them tumble and crawl all over them. When Sylvan was absorbed in a mock game of dominance with her two daughters, Drake slipped away to rejoin Sylvia and Roger. “Is everything all right?”

  Roger nodded. “They’re very bright and learning quickly. Their instincts are true.”

  Drake glanced at Sophia, a medic who would understand her unspoken concerns.

  “They’re perfect, Prima. Mentally and physically healthy and strong.”

  “Roger, would you give us a minute,” Drake asked.

  “Of course.” He moved away.

  “I plan to meet with your parents soon,” Drake said. “I want them to sequence my DNA and that of the mutated Were virus in my blood. Yours as well. We need to know as much as we can about the induced Were trait. We still have two infected humans in the infirmary in a coma who need our help.”

  Sophia sighed. “I know.”

  Drake took her hand. Sophia had resisted testing for years, fearing she was still a carrier of the Were fever virus. That same fear had kept her from giving Niki a mate bite and sealing their bond. All the same, since Niki had declared herself mated to Sophia, Niki had resisted any sexual contact with others. “There’s nothing we’ll find out that will change how Niki feels about you. But she needs the mate bond. So do you.”

  “I don’t hold her to her vows. I know how hard it is
for her to resist others without a bond.”

  “Her vows to you are what make her strong. But she needs the bond to be at full power.”

  Sophia nodded. “Yes, Prima.” Her eyes shone liquid with fierce possession. “So do I. She’s mine.”

  Drake glanced at Sylvan, who growled and shook Kendra by the ruff. Their mate bond was the foundation of her world. She had feared the effect of the mutation in her blood on Sylvan too, but Sylvan had shown no signs of a problem. The mutation in Sophia might be—probably was—biologically different, and only testing could determine that. She brushed her fingers over Sophia’s cheek. “Then we’ll do the tests, and you will make it so.”

  *

  Daniela nodded perfunctorily to the human servant as she left the prison wing and glided down the long corridor to the staircase at the end of the hall that led to the club above. Nocturne was already crowded with Vampires and the humans and Weres who hoped to exchange their blood for sex before the night was out. Moving quickly, while not seeming to hurry, the pale Vampire crossed the wide space and slipped out the door into the night. The vast parking lot—an overgrown concrete expanse punctuated by scrub brush struggling up through cracks in the decades-old surface—was nearly full. Daniela slid between a row of cars and disappeared. A moment later a wolf bounded across the concrete and into the undergrowth along the riverbank.

  Torren trotted stealthily along the narrow path toward the nearest Otherworld Gate, following the river, staying in the shadows and avoiding the highway with its slashing headlights and traffic noises. She kept her head down, scenting the air, using the heightened senses of the Were form she had assumed after leaving Nocturne as Daniela. Transforming diminished her power, and she’d done so twice in rapid succession, but now that she was out under the moon, drawing strength from the earth beneath her and the heavens above, she could feel her magic resurging. Her glamour went beyond illusion, her mutable DNA allowing her to change physical form into whatever template she had stored in her cellular receptors. The chimeric trait was ancient and rare, and even those in Faerie, save for Queen Cecilia, didn’t know the extent of her magic.