by Raand, L. L.
“We won’t need to capture or coerce one,” Torren said. “I was imprisoned for a long time. I’m familiar with her royal guards and her human servants. At one time or another, they’ve all touched me.”
Misha snarled and Torren slipped one arm around her shoulders.
“Ah,” Drake said, wishing she had more time to ask for details. “Transmogrification?”
“Shape-shifting, yes. I know their imprint.”
“Is that why someone with your power accepted imprisonment?” Drake asked. “So you could…familiarize yourself with Francesca’s inner circle?”
“Let us say my Queen took advantage of an unfortunate situation. I agreed…for a time.”
“The Fae are long-range planners,” Sylvan said wryly.
Torren laughed. “We have aeons in which to play out the game.”
“Then let this night be the beginning,” Sylvan said. “And we will make the first move.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
“Stop here,” Sylvan said a few minutes before sunup. They’d kept to the river on the drive south, avoiding the highways by following barge paths and utility roads that were little used at night.
Niki slowed at the edge of Nocturne’s vast concrete parking lot. The other Rovers pulled up alongside and cut their headlights. In the awakening predawn light, the long, low building looked as lifeless as the souls of those who occupied it. The Risen who frequented the club for sex and blood had left already, hastening to their lairs before sunrise. Francesca’s inner circle—Vampire guards, her blood servants and slaves, and whatever hosts had been chosen for the last feeding before daytime slumbers—would be sequestered in the chambers below.
A few scattered cars and trucks dotted the concourse, and as Sylvan and the others watched, humans straggled out of the club, some appearing to stagger uncertainly in a daze before climbing into vehicles and driving away. After they departed, the lot should have been deserted, but the first glint of sunshine reflected off a gleaming chrome handlebar. A row of motorcycles stood along the near side of the building.
“I count twenty bikes,” Niki said. “What are they still doing here?”
“Looks like Francesca has daytime visitors,” Sylvan murmured.
Drake leaned forward from the backseat and peered out the windshield. “Not Vampires. They wouldn’t have come on bikes in case they needed to leave during the day. Too risky.”
“No. Humans, possibly.” Sylvan grumbled. “But I’ve never known Francesca to keep that many humans around. They’re too weak to host all day. Those most likely belong to Weres.”
Niki gripped the steering wheel, her claws glinting in the silvery morning light. “Bernardo’s crew are bikers.”
“Yes, and that would explain where he’s gotten to.” Sylvan opened her door, stepped outside, and, raising her face to sky, drew in a deep breath. Her growl reverberated through the blood of every Were in her company. “Wolf Weres, at least thirty.”
Niki and the others climbed out to join her. Behind her, the warriors silently slipped from the vehicles.
“Many of them will be hosting now,” Drake said.
“Yes,” Sylvan said. “And since the Vampires like to share their food, they’re all probably still on the main floor where they can gang feed.”
Torren said, “The Were presence is unexpected, but that might work to our advantage. The Vampires and Weres will be occupied for a time while they feed and fornicate.”
“It makes things simpler,” Sylvan said. “They’ll all be in one place and distracted. But not for long.” She signaled for the warriors to gather around. “We’ll go in the front door. We’ll have a few seconds’ advantage before everyone inside realizes they’re under attack.” She pointed to the squad leaders. “Spread out around the perimeter, one squad to a side. Drive anyone you see into the center of the room—incapacitate those you can, kill those you must.”
The lieutenants saluted.
“Some of the Weres and Vampires are innocent in all of this,” Sylvan said, “but if they fight, they will have declared their allegiance to Francesca, and by doing so, they make themselves our enemies.”
“What about Katya?” Niki asked.
“Torren and I will make our way into Francesca’s lair and find Katya.”
“I know the way to the cells,” Torren said, “and I can open the dungeon door.”
Drake said, “Take Niki to guard your backs.”
Sylvan nodded. “Agreed. We don’t know how many Vampires Francesca has with her in her lair, but they will all be powerful. Strike the heart or the neck.”
Niki’s canines gleamed. “Understood.”
“The Prima and Sophia will see to the wounded.” Sylvan gripped the back of Drake’s neck. “Prima?”
“Lieutenants, assign someone to get your injured back here,” Drake said. “Sophia and I will treat them and load them into the Rovers. Once a vehicle is filled, we’ll designate drivers to transport them to the Compound.”
Sylvan said, “If any of you are separated from your squads and surrounded by enemy, make your escape and regroup at the Rovers. Once you have reformed a squad, resume the attack. We will not leave here until Nocturne is ours and Katya is free.” She looked over her warriors and saw resolve and eager determination. She saw no fear, and her heart swelled with pride. “Are you ready?”
Every warrior snapped to attention. “Yes, Alpha.”
Sylvan kissed Drake. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Yes, Alpha,” Drake said softly. “Fight well.”
Sylvan loped across the expanse of open lot toward the black door, her wolves a lethal phalanx at her back.
*
Katya waited in the near dark, listening for the scrape of metal on stone, the hiss of a breath. She wouldn’t hear a Vampire coming, but she would scent a human servant or the cat Were who had attacked her, and she would be ready. She tried to reach out for some connection to the Pack but got lost in a tangle of strange scents and the overwhelming tang of blood wafting through the air. Too many Vampires. Too many hosts. Too much blood.
Francesca would contact the Alpha soon, and then the Alpha or the Prima or the imperator or one of the centuri would come for her. Whoever led would come. Let it be soon. Before Francesca returned, before Michel tried to stop her. Before they both died. She wasn’t afraid to die in battle, protecting the Pack, but she did not want to die under a Vampire, helpless and controlled. And she did not want to live if Michel died eternally. They were bonded now—body and heart.
She would know soon if she would see the sun again before she died.
*
Michel made her way down the deserted stone hallway to Francesca’s private quarters. Upstairs in the club, the guards were feeding on the wolf Weres. Bernardo was collecting payment for his allegiance—sexual pleasures for him and his wolves. He would be blood addicted soon enough, and Francesca would have her puppet. Unless Sylvan Mir learned of Bernardo’s pact with the Shadow Lords and their plans to assassinate her—then Bernardo wouldn’t live long enough to become a blood slave. Knowledge of the Shadow Lords was a card Michel still had to play, and she would need every edge she could find if she was to break free of Francesca. For now, she needed to keep Francesca away from Katya. She knocked on Francesca’s boudoir.
“Regent?”
“Come in, darling,” Francesca called.
Michel stepped inside and bowed her head. “Our guests are being tended to.”
“Good. And how is our prisoner?”
Michel smiled. Of course Francesca would know she had gone to see Katya. She had half expected Francesca to appear while she was in the dungeon. “Angry.”
Francesca rose naked from the bed and casually riffled through her armoire before drawing out a red satin robe. She belted it around her waist, leaving the top open wide to frame her creamy breasts with shimmering crimson. She shook back her hair in the careless way of those who knew they were beautiful, her eyes alight with power and amusement.
“The Weres are so short on control. I’m surprised you find that attractive.”
Michel said nothing.
“Although the young have their own special appeal, don’t they?” Francesca pressed close until her hardened nipples brushed across the front of Michel’s silk shirt. She ran a nail along the edge of Michel’s jaw, a caress that drew blood. “Is that what it is? Youth? I can’t believe it’s the sex.”
“You’ve said it yourself,” Michel said steadily, ignoring the pulse of sexual allure that hardened her clitoris. “Were blood is more potent than human.”
“And as you said, Weres are easy to come by.” Laughing, Francesca gestured to the monitors behind her. “We have dozens upstairs right now. You could have any of them. What is it about this one that seduced you from my bed?”
“Was I not just in your bed, Mistress?” Michel caressed Francesca’s breast. “Am I not here now, at your bidding?”
“Yes, you are here now.”
Francesca kissed her, her power a burning claw that raked Michel’s soul. Her hips jerked with a burst of arousal.
“You may think you want something else,” Francesca murmured, “but you always return here, don’t you?”
“You know me well.” Michel readied to strike. The cat Were slept on Francesca’s bed. The other host was gone. She might never have a better chance to take Francesca. But if she failed, Katya would be alone. If she waited until Sylvan had been notified, she might have allies. Sylvan would never negotiate and, in the mad impulsive way of the Weres, would attempt to free Katya by force. In the chaos of an attack, she might have an opportunity to free Katya. All she had to do was keep Francesca occupied with something other than torturing Katya. She rubbed her thumb over Francesca’s nipple. “There’s no one to compare to you.”
“You would do well to remember that.” Francesca opened the buttons on Michel’s trousers, lowered the zipper, and slipped her hand inside. She gripped Michel and squeezed.
Michel groaned, her thighs weakening.
“I would taste her blood in you,” Francesca whispered, her mouth at Michel’s throat.
Francesca took pleasure where none was desired, forcing need none could resist. This time, this time the need would become Michel’s weapon. Over Francesca’s shoulder, the monitors flickered, and Michel saw the front door of the club burst open and a tide of wolf Weres flood Nocturne.
She lifted her chin and offered her throat. “Take what you will. I am yours.”
The pain was blinding, the pleasure crippling, but stronger than either was something she hadn’t experienced in centuries. Hope.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Sylvan gave over to her wolf, and her mind was as clear and calm as a still summer morning. Her wolf never struggled between two paths, never hesitated out of fear or uncertainty. The law was clear—she was Alpha and duty bound to defend her Pack. She was born for this moment. There could be only one outcome when her rule was challenged—victory or death. She kicked open the door and bounded into Nocturne.
The hisses and moans and growls of dozens of Vampires and Weres in feeding-sex frenzy muted the crack of splintering wood. She had a fraction of a second to survey the terrain. The windowless expanse was a kaleidoscopic landscape of shifting shadows. Pheromones thickened the air and coated her tongue. Blood and sex. Predators and prey writhed in tangles of bare bodies on the bar, benches, oversized sofas, and floor. Weres in sex frenzy snarled and lashed out with claws and canines at each other, and at those who bled them. Vampires knelt over throats and breasts and cocks, their incisors glinting like myriad feral eyes in a primeval forest. Sylvan, with Torren and Niki at her side, arrowed straight into the heart of the chaos while the rest of her wolves streamed to the left and right, encircling the Vampires and Weres. Sylvan’s wolf pressed to attack, but she contained her battle frenzy long enough to offer one chance at amnesty. She rose into half-form, her torso expanding with a covering of silver, her arms and legs thickening, her jaws elongating.
“I am Alpha to every Were in this room,” she roared, the force of her call freezing the Weres in place. Some Vampires paused in midstrike. “Swear your allegiance to me now and you will live.” She drew her blade and carved a shining arc in the air. “Any Vampire who stands in my path will die. What is your answer?”
The Vampires rose from where they’d been feeding like shimmering wisps of fog from a fetid marsh and launched themselves at Sylvan and her warriors. The weaker Weres, dazed and lost in thrall, remained sprawled around the room. A few turned their backs on their Packmates and joined Sylvan’s warriors, but at least two dozen dominants, Bernardo’s lieutenants, snarled in challenge and engaged the Timberwolves in battle. In close quarters, handguns and rifles were useless, and Weres and Vampires alike fought with tooth and claw and blade.
Sylvan stood her ground and swept aside attackers with slashing blade and claws, sending streamers of blood into the air. Again she roared, “Where is the wolf who claims leadership here? Challenge or submit!”
Bernardo, shirtless in black leather pants and boots, jumped up onto the bar. Tangled hair framed a heavy, unshaven face, and blood streamed down his broad chest from multiple punctures in his neck. His dark eyes glowed with madness. “This is my territory, and you have no claim here.” He smiled and waved toward the shattered door with a mock bow. “Take your wolves and leave now, and I will show you mercy.”
“Submit to me now and your wolves will live,” Sylvan said. “Do not sacrifice them in a fight you cannot win.”
“I will line my bed with your pelt,” Bernardo said, “and fuck your mate on it aft—”
“I will show you mercy and kill you quickly.” Sylvan leapt onto the bar.
Bernardo, without the power to hold a half-form, shifted to pelt and sailed down into the thrashing melee. A female Blackpaw lieutenant jumped up from where she’d been crouching behind Bernardo on the bar and pointed a Glock at the center of Sylvan’s chest. Sylvan caught her gaze. The same madness burned in her eyes as in Bernardo’s. Sylvan threw her blade into the female’s chest. The lieutenant’s finger twitched on the trigger as she fell, and a bullet sailed past Sylvan’s face. Another Blackpaw took aim, and Niki’s red wolf streaked through the air and took his throat out before he could fire.
Sylvan bounded after Bernardo, keeping her towering half-form. Most of Bernardo’s Pack fought in pelt, but his black wolf was larger than any other in his Pack, and she saw him behind a wedge of Blackpaws. Hiding behind those he was sworn to protect. Coward. Not fit to lead. She howled and stormed toward him. Two wolves jumped at her throat, and she plucked them from the air by their ruffs and tossed them over her shoulders into the swarm behind her.
Her wolf had waited long enough. She shifted to pelt and leapt at Bernardo. Their wolves were matched in size, but he was no Alpha. When she struck, the force carried them both to the floor in the center of the room. She bit through the sleek pelt into his throat. The smoky taste of Vampire feeding hormones lingered in his blood. His back claws raked her hindquarters. Flame shot down her leg. She clamped her jaws tighter and shook her massive shoulders to snap his neck and kill him quickly. His neck was thickly muscled, and his desperation gave him strength. He kicked and thrashed and they rolled together, a mass of fury, knocking over bar stools, crashing into chairs, upending tables. His claws churned beneath her, ripping at her belly. His jaws snapped on her foreleg, and the bone cracked. The pain blinded her but her hold never loosened. Her wolf was incapable of surrender or retreat. She would fight until he submitted, or until she killed him, or until she bled out from her wounds. Her canines closed on his windpipe.
Bernardo was weakening—his claws gouged less deeply, his canines bit less forcefully. Sylvan slashed his belly open. A gush of warm blood soaked her chest. A whine of submission erupted from Bernardo’s chest, and he went limp.
Sylvan returned to half-form so all might see the power of the Alpha unleashed. Rearing up to her full height, she dragged Bernardo up by the thr
oat and telegraphed a message to every Were in the room.
Bernardo violated my territory. He challenged me, and he has lost.
The massive black wolf dangled from her jaws. With a roar, she shook him until his neck snapped, then dropped him into the center of the room. She howled in triumph. The agony in her left arm faded with the rush of victory. “I am Alpha. Challenge me or submit.”
Most of the Blackpaws had already stopped fighting. They all dropped to their knees and were quickly surrounded by her warriors.
As if knowing only one enemy really mattered, Francesca’s Vampire guards left off fighting her wolves and converged on Sylvan from all corners. She bounded over to the dead lieutenant splayed out on the bar, pulled the blade from her chest, and waited for their attack.
*
Francesca raised her head, blood trickling from the corners of her mouth, fingers still clamped onto Michel’s clitoris, and swiveled toward the monitors. “I see that Sylvan has paid us a visit.”
Michel shuddered in her grip, the orgasm forced by Francesca’s thrall a molten river of agony in her blood. She struggled to surface through the pain and registered the silent warnings of Francesca’s guards hammering at her mind.
We are under attack. What will you have us do?
She focused on the images of the fight upstairs. Sylvan dropped Bernardo’s lifeless body, and a dozen monitors reflected the gleam of victory in her glowing gold eyes. Throughout the club, Bernardo’s soldiers faltered, stopped fighting, and submitted to Sylvan’s warriors.
“Well, Bernardo didn’t last long, did he?” Francesca said irritably. She kissed Michel absently and released her from her thrall.
“He was no match for Sylvan under the best of circumstances. He had no chance against a surprise attack.” Michel’s mind cleared, and she calculated how quickly she could get to Katya without arousing Francesca’s suspicions.
