by Nina Bangs
Where was the sexy man of a short while ago? “Sorry. Hey, you missed a real demonstration of power.” She watched him swing his feet to the floor and stand. The throw slid to the floor.
He took her breath away. She’d never get tired of watching the play of hard muscle beneath smooth skin. Clenching her fists, she resisted the urge to make a fool of herself by clutching at his perfect behind. Sparkle would really have to sweat to improve on Declan Mackenzie.
“Yeah?” Whatever his thoughts were, they weren’t on Sparkle and they weren’t particularly happy.
“Eris insulted her, so she made Eris beautiful. Can you believe that?” Daria refused to let him sour her mood.
She’d made awesome love with a vampire she was beginning to care about a little more than she should, and she’d watched Sparkle make Eris eat dirt. She was happy. Tomorrow would be time enough to worry about the caring part along with all the other disturbing things on her personal horizon.
“I believe it. Remember, I saw Sparkle in action last year.” He looked around the room. “Where’re my clothes?”
Daria clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oops. I left them in the forest where you dropped them. They weren’t in great condition, though, after you ripped them off. I’ll go get you some.”
“Don’t bother. No one will see me.”
She bit her lip. He wanted to walk through the inn naked? Let him. What did she care? “I don’t know what your problem is, but if this is the way you always act after making love, I can see why women don’t invite you back for seconds.”
Daria headed for the door, ready to make an outraged-harpy exit. As she put her hand on the doorknob, she turned to give him a parting blast and…
Declan was gone. She blinked. Just to make sure he was really gone, she checked in the bathroom, and even though she felt really silly, the closet. Yep, he’d left the room. Well, well, little by little she was learning her vampire had lots of hidden talents.
As Daria reached her own room, dawn was lightening the sky. But she had one more thing to do before falling into bed.
Sitting on the couch, she opened the laptop she’d brought from home. The Web was a fun place to keep in touch with this world. It was also a great tool for finding people.
Methodically, she Googled the names of Declan’s children: Alrek, Bera, Finna, and Grim. She hadn’t quite decided what she’d do if she found them.
Chapter Twelve
Declan stood on the porch looking up at the full moon. The werewolves would be out in force tonight—howling, chasing small animals, and pissing on tree trunks to mark their territory. He smiled. People who romanticized werewolves forgot about the pissing.
The werewolves staying at the inn were a bunch of college kids. Anything larger than a rabbit was probably safe from them. They were long on enthusiasm but short on experience.
Unlike his werewolf father, who was probably gleefully gathering his energy to zap his son with another compulsion. Declan didn’t think he could go through that again. That’s why he had to confront Fenrir tonight. But he wouldn’t do it alone. When ego bumped up against reality, reality won. Ganymede would be out in a few minutes, and they’d go together.
While he waited, he thought about Daria. Okay, so he’d been thinking about her ever since he’d risen at sunset. He hadn’t liked appearing weak in her eyes. First, she’d carried him out of danger’s way back at the church. Then she and Ganymede rescued him from the compulsion. Worst of all, he’d been helpless to take part in their lovemaking while he was cuffed to that damn bed.
Sure, some people got off on the bondage stuff. He didn’t. For better or for worse, he was uber alpha with all its attendant hang-ups. It was his job to keep the female safe, win every fight, and generally be a dominant jerk.
Then shouldn’t it follow that a strong woman wouldn’t attract him? Daria was a strong woman, and she attracted the hell out of him. Go figure.
“Yo, bloodsucker, are we hunting werewolf tonight?” Startled, Declan glanced down. He was getting careless if he didn’t hear Ganymede coming. “It’s time to test-drive our talent and hit Fenrir with everything we have. If it doesn’t work, we run like the devil and then come up with a different plan.”
For a moment, amusement lurked in the cat’s eyes, and then it faded. “I can’t kill him. The goodness-and-light jerk will be watching. But I can grab his attention and then maybe you can get in a lucky shot.” Declan nodded.
“Understand, bloodsucker, that I’m not doing this because I’m a good guy or anything. I’m a selfish bastard. I like coming here in the summer, so I don’t want anything messing with my vacation time. And I sorta get a kick outta matching wits with a god.”
“Gotcha. Same here. This is all about revenge. The council can’t let anyone kill its members and go unpunished. I only care about saving the universe because if it goes, I go too. It’s all about me.” And they were two world-class liars.
Ganymede started to say something, but turned to look at the door instead. Declan sensed Daria a moment before she opened it and joined them.
She was like a hot shower to his greedy senses. The heat she brought steamed up his common sense while all his blood surged to the surface. Well, at least to one particular surface. Even dressed down by Sparkle’s standards, Daria made him want to howl at the moon along with the werewolves.
“Let me guess, you were going to confront the big bad wolf without me. How do I know? You have guilt written all over your sexist faces.” Accusation was in her narrowed eyes. She held up her hand to stop any comments. “No, you don’t have to explain. I get the picture. Me, helpless female. You, mighty warriors.”
Nine hundred years of experience had taught Declan never to agree with a woman when she used that tone of voice.
Thousands of years had taught Ganymede nothing. “Hey, babe, things could get rough out there. You don’t want to get that great outfit all torn and dirty. We’ll tell you what happened when we 8et back.”
Declan could actually hear her grinding her teeth. “I have on jeans and a T-shirt. I’m wearing running shoes. Okay, so the jeans and T-shirt are sexy, but they belong to Sparkle. I don’t care how torn or dirty they get.” She dropped to her knees and got in Ganymede’s face. “Look at me, you cosmic doofus. I’m. A. Harpy. I’m the deliverer of death, the harbinger of the hereafter, the meanest of the monsters. Don’t you dare tell me things could get rough.”
“Cosmic doofus?” From Ganymede’s expression, Declan figured no one had ever dared call him a doofus before. Guess there was a first time for everything.
Declan thought of himself as a pragmatist, but it was tough keeping that attitude when Daria’s life could be in danger. Just because she was immortal didn’t mean she was invulnerable. Everyone had weaknesses. And he was beginning to realize her well-being was important to him.
“And if we say you can’t come?” Declan thought he knew the answer.
“I’ll follow you.”
Declan looked at Ganymede.
Ganymede glared at Daria. “What does a doofus know? Let her see what real war is like.” He did the equivalent of a cat sniff. “I’m paying a manager who doesn’t manage. Don’t know what that’s about.”
Declan had his doubts about the “real war” description. This was going to be more like an exploratory salvo, a mutual exchange of power to see who blinked first. It would be great if Fenrir went down tonight, but he didn’t think it would be that easy. Gods tended to be resilient.
“Sparkle said she’d watch things for a while. She’s in a good mood listening to Eris whine and beg for her old ugly self back.” Daria stood. “Oh, and you’ll need me if Fenrir hits Declan with another compulsion.”
Ganymede looked thoughtful. “Yeah, you have a point.”
Declan drew his coat around him as he led them into the forest. His sword rested against his hip, a comfortable partner from past battles. He’d left his guns back at the inn. Bullets wouldn’t bother Fenrir. The surest way to des
troy him would be to take his head. Even an ancient god might have trouble regenerating a head. Getting close enough to use his sword would be the problem.
And how do you feel about that possibility? He’s your father, even if he never filled the role. Declan didn’t know. He had an uncomfortable feeling, though, that if presented with the opportunity to lop off Fenrir’s head, he might just have a deadly attack of conscience. Deadly because he had no doubt Fenrir wouldn’t let a little thing like misplaced emotion stand in the way of eliminating an enemy.
“I have something that’ll get rid of your snit with me, Ganymede. How about a compliment? Your plan worked. I, um, entertained Declan like you said, and his pain went away.” Daria had evidently decided not to tell Ganymede she’d let the “good times roll” long after Declan’s pain had disappeared.
Last night Declan had been okay with letting her think she was just a sexy painkiller, but tonight the whole thing bothered him. Was he feeling guilty? The thought chilled him. Too many emotions could get a vampire killed, slow him down at a crucial moment. “My pain was gone before you even walked into the room.” Jeez, did he have a death wish?
Uh-oh. She was going all slitty-eyed on him again. “Then why did you let me do what I did?”
Declan grinned at her. “Are you crazy? I don’t know any man, dead or undead, who would’ve told you to stop.”
Ganymede looked extra sneaky tonight. “The thing you gotta remember is that it might not be so easy next time. As Fenrir’s power grows, his compulsions will probably be harder to override.” He sounded defensive.
Warning flags popped up all over the place. “What aren’t you telling us?” The universe might end in a few days, but Declan was sure Ganymede and Sparkle would be plotting to mess up their lives to the very end.
“Look, let’s get a few things straight. I can’t just make Fenrir’s compulsions go away. They’re too strong. So the best I can do is sort of… manipulate them.” Ganymede stared straight ahead.
Declan could almost hear the lie machine cranking out another one in Ganymede’s head. “Define manipulate.”
“I sort of restructure the compulsion so that as soon as it hits, instead of causing you blinding pain and a need to run to Fenrir, you get this uncontrollable desire to have sex with Daria.” He said the last words in a rush.
Well, crap. “Was that what was going on last night?” God, he hoped not. Surprisingly, he wanted the need he’d felt to have been all his own idea.
“Nah. I took away your pain last night. Once the pain was gone, you were able to fight the compulsion on your own. By the time Daria came in, you were just a little groggy.”
“And why was he groggy?” Daria sounded strangely calm.
“You know, you guys don’t have to dissect everything. Why not just accept the great sex and forget about it?”
Declan looked at Daria. She returned his stare. Nope, neither of them felt particularly forgetful.
Daria’s sigh said she wouldn’t try to kill Ganymede, because the sex had been great, but she did want to know everything that had been done to them. “Harpies are curious, Ganymede. It’s a weakness.”
“Okay, okay. Sparkle might’ve given me the idea. She knew I could replace one compulsion with another, so Sparkle being Sparkle, she mentioned that a sexual compulsion would make her happy. And if I could leave you a little loopy, bloodsucker, it would make her even happier. I’m all about keeping Sparkle happy.” Left unsaid was that he’d been doing a crappy job lately…
Declan couldn’t fault him. Knowing what Sparkle could do to a man’s body, he thought keeping her happy was smart. “I don’t have to point out what will happen if the compulsion hits at the wrong time.”
Ganymede had nothing to say to that.
Daria had lots to say. “Oh no. What if you pounce on me right in the middle of dinner? What will the guests say if you chase me around the dining room, throw me onto the table, and then make wild love to me somewhere between the roast beef and mashed potatoes? You know, that has a certain kinky appeal.” Her eyes gleamed with laughter.
Declan grunted. Easy for her to joke about it. She wouldn’t be the one playing sex-crazed vampire. Whatever response he might’ve made died as they reached the church. He stood staring at the crumbling building.
“Call him, bloodsucker.” Ganymede’s voice was terse, all business now.
A quick glance around showed Daria was gone. She’d be taking off her clothes behind a tree somewhere. He’d do his best to make sure she didn’t get involved in what was about to happen.
“Fenrir. I’m here.” Declan put out psychic feelers, reaching for his father.
He found the werewolf in a rush of power that shoved him back a few feet. Fenrir was coming.
The werewolf materialized with what sounded like a clap of thunder. Declan recognized it as the release of immense energy. Fenrir was now the size of a full-grown Clydesdale. Gripes, he could pull the Budweiser beer wagon all by himself.
Declan stilled as he thought he heard a startled curse coming from the woods. It sounded male. But when he didn’t hear anything else, he dismissed it from his mind. If it was one of the inn’s guests, he or she was about to get a hell of a show.
“You can’t have Declan, dog breath.” Ganymede wasn’t intimidated.
Fenrir’s massive jaw dropped open in a wolfish grin. “Perhaps you would care to place a wager, obese cat.”
Obese cat? Declan did a few mental eye rolls. Great. Two beings with enough power between them to take out New Jersey and all they could do was call each other names. Not very creative ones either. Time for him to step in.
“Why do you need me?” He pushed his coat aside so his hand could rest on the hilt of his sword.
“No questions. All that matters is your presence here.”
“You’ll tell me because you like to brag. What good is it being the big kahuna if no one appreciates your greatness?” Declan hoped he was reading his father right.
Fenrir’s laughter was a low rumble that shook the ground. “You understand me well, my son.”
“Give me a break, bloodsucker. We don’t need to know why he wants you. All we have to do is put his sorry butt into orbit.” Ganymede might sound dismissive, but Declan didn’t miss the tensing of his muscles or the way his tail whipped back and forth.
Fenrir acted as though Ganymede hadn’t spoken. “I hope you weren’t thinking I felt a sudden fatherly impulse.”
Actually he hadn’t. Or at least the rational part of his brain hadn’t. But the other part, the section of his mind in charge of all those emotions he claimed he no longer harbored, had held a. pathetic hope that maybe, just maybe… Declan shook off that particular stupidity.
“So why?” Out of the corner of his eye, Declan could see Ganymede starting his signature rear-end wiggle, a signal that he was ready to rumble,
Fenrir’s glowing wolf eyes looked a little too eager. “I need to complete the number three.”
“I hate when scumbags go all mysterious on me.” Ganymede’s words came out in a low hiss. “Get to the point.”
The werewolf snarled at Ganymede. “You would do well to run from here. You don’t have the power to bend me to your will.”
Ganymede glanced at Declan. “Why’s he talking like a bad actor on late-night TV?”
Declan tightened his grip on his sword. “Explain the number three.”
The werewolf began to pace, impatience in every stride. “Three is a powerful number. I need the magic it brings. I have strength without it, but on the day of Ragnarok I’ll use the mystical potency of three to bring Loki victory.”
“What do I have to do with three?” Declan thought he got it, but he wanted a little extra time to call his power to him. So he let Fenrir rattle on.
“Loki had three children by the giantess Angrboda. I am the eldest. You are of the third generation. The only one. You are needed to complete the second three.”
Declan was pretty ticked. So all he meant to
his father was a number. “And what will I be doing during your great battle, sitting on the sidelines wearing a number three on my chest and cheering the maniacs on?”
Fenrir stopped his pacing to stare at Declan. “You’ll be dead.”
Okay, that did it. Sure, he liked to travel as much as the next guy, but he wouldn’t be going on this trip even if Fenrir let him use his frequent flyer miles. “Wow, a vampire sacrifice. Do I get the altar and all the great rituals? You really know how to touch a son’s heart.”
“You will come to me.”
Fenrir’s low rumbling growl raised goose bumps along Declan’s arms.
“Has hell frozen over yet?” The old fart had really pissed him off now. “I don’t think so, Pop. When I check out it’ll be on my own terms. And your little battle doesn’t even tempt me.” Along with his fury came enough hurt to make Declan even angrier. He’d never expected love from his father, but he sure hadn’t expected Fenrir to want him dead.
He sensed the moment when Fenrir launched another one of his powerful compulsions. Bracing himself, he waited for the explosion of pain in his head. It didn’t come.
“The compulsion?” Ganymede didn’t miss much.
“Yeah.”
“How’re you feeling?”
“Like I need to find Daria right now;” Declan clenched his fists against the desire to forget about Fenrir in favor of having crazy sex in the bushes with his favorite harpy.
“Stay with me, kid.” Ganymede actually glowed as he prepared to blast Fenrir.
Kid? No one called a nine-hundred-year-old vampire kid. How old was Ganymede? He watched the cat, ready to launch his attack at the same time. Mental images of a naked and welcoming Daria weren’t helping his concentration. Declan fought to clear away all inner distractions, naked or otherwise.
Fenrir must have realized they intended to attack, because he hurled a wave of power at them that flung Declan back into the forest. He whacked his head against a tree trunk and slid to a sitting position. “Ow!”
Rubbing the back of his head, Declan rose and returned to where Ganymede was still hunkered down in the same spot. He looked untouched.
