Vampire Claim: Real Men of Othercross

by Kyle, Celia

  The male resisted at first, then gave way, meeting Rafe’s gaze. “You won’t like it.”

  “Tell me.”

  Tomás ran a hand through his hair. “After you left, we kept our distance, as you asked.”

  Rafe stilled, not a flicker of emotion on his face though a chill wind ran through him. That shade of personal. Of course.

  “I didn’t ask, and your words imply that you abandoned my directive.”

  Tomás struggled with a grimace. “There wasn’t much choice, Master. After some time had passed, it became rather obvious what was going on.”

  Why was the man tap dancing about? What had happened with Iris in his absence? Rafe’s fingers dug into the arms of his chair, the only sign of his inner tension. Not just tension, but the wild, protective rage welling at the thought of any man interfering with the woman who belonged to him.

  The sudden thought that perhaps she had been with another man punched Rafe in the gut. It… hadn’t occurred to him until that moment that she even could. He’d wanted her to live her life, enjoy her personal pursuits, fulfill her ambitions without becoming embroiled in Santos clan matters as its ruling Mistress. He’d never considered the possibility she might choose another male.

  But why wouldn’t she, if she had no idea they were destined to be together? A beautiful, vibrant woman would want love, sex, and companionship in her life. He’d been so busy wrapping his own isolated misery around his shoulders like a mourning shawl it hadn’t occurred to him she might not cope with their separation the same way.

  “Tomás.” The icy neutrality of his voice slipped into a growl.

  “You said you didn’t want to hear any details about Iris—”

  Rafe snapped. His mental “hand” grabbed Tomás’s throat, flinging the man up against a wall before his brain processed the outward burst of irrational rage. Iris was his. No one should even speak her name. The familiarity of it was an unacceptable disrespect.

  “She is your Mistress,” Rafe hissed, fangs slipping from their sheaths. “You will address her as such. Always.”

  Tomás said something through his strangled throat. Rafe, a shred of sanity clearing space in the heat of his anger, loosened his grip slightly.

  “Forgive me,” Tomás coughed, eyes bulging.

  Rafe slowly lowered the male to the ground, reminding himself he needed Tomás’s wisdom and calm nature to temper his own hot blood. He gripped the edge of his desk, exerting calm moment by moment until he could speak again in his customary cool tones.

  “Speak.”

  “The Soldiers had to reveal themselves to the Mistress, sir. I take full responsibility for the consequences of disobeying your orders.” Tomás dropped to one knee, head lowering in obeisance.

  Rafe stared down at him, displeasure a sour taste in the back of his throat. “I gave explicit instructions that she not be made aware she was being watched. Explicit instructions that I wanted her to live her life normally, unaware of Santos interference.”

  Tomás lifted his head slightly, a struggle still clear on his face. Rafe’s patience was nearing the point of breaking. That wasn’t unusual these days. It seemed his sanity was fraying faster than a scrap of yarn being batted around by a kitten. Only Iris could soothe him.

  “What are you holding back, Tomás?”

  “The Mistress…” The man gulped before continuing. “She’s… with child, Master.”

  Rafe’s vision flashed red.

  “Lies!” he screamed as he released his fury on his second.

  His power unleashed, a cold wind picked up Tomás and tossed him across the room like a leaf in a summer breeze. Tomás smashed into a set of bookcases, sending tomes older than Rafe himself and small mementos collected over centuries of travel crashing to the floor.

  Tomás rose from the rubble and faced Rafe without hesitation. “It’s not a lie, Master.”

  Before his second could even blink, Rafe sped across the room and stood before the man, looming over him like the specter of death. His breaths came in heavy puffs, like a raging bull’s.

  “Why wasn’t I told?” Nails bit into his palms, slicing skin. The urge to rend something, anything, temporarily immobilized him. Rafe reminded himself that he needed Tomás. Tomás was not for shredding.

  “You forbade us to speak about her, for any reason, Master. You specifically said you didn’t want updates on her health, her life, anything to do with her.”

  Rafe flinched. He’d wanted to forget her, impose a self-restricted blackout of her in his thoughts and feelings to enforce his decision to let her live her life before claiming her. He had failed miserably on the thoughts and emotions, but he had at least let her be. Not for as long as he’d intended, but apparently long enough for her to grow a child in her belly. He could no longer stay away from her, and not only because he needed to know the answer to the question burning into his brain. Was the baby his?

  “Where is she?” he demanded.

  Tomás pulled a cell from his pocket, sighing at the cracked screen. “This time of day? Work.”

  Rafe’s temper spiked again, but this time he focused, leaving the room without another word and heading for the tunnels.

  Work.

  His Beloved, pregnant.

  Pregnant and working.

  Unacceptable.

  Chapter Three

  Iris watched as Brodie and Mateo continued their blustering in the entry of Othercross Arcane Judiciary, this time over who would take her home. After spending far too long dealing with Kelly, who’d earned herself some time as an unpaid intern for OAJ for her little stunt, Iris was already tired. Watching the two men bluster at each other only made it worse. She couldn’t decide if she was too tired to intervene, or too tired to stand there and listen. Even making that decision exhausted her.

  Seven months and she just wanted the whole pregnancy thing to be over already so she could have her body back. So she could sleep on her back, or maybe eat a full meal instead of nibble at delicious entrees because her stomach was compressed into something resembling a pancake.

  The baby shifted, pressing against her stomach as if to prove her own point. Iris sighed.

  “Sounds like they’re gonna be a while,” Sara Wilcox, the OAJ receptionist, said, then rose from behind her desk and rolled her chair over to where Iris stood.

  “Thank you.” Iris gratefully sank into the chair. Lately, even standing had become an Olympic event. Lowering her bulk down, she took care to sit at an angle optimal for her bladder.

  “You think they remember you’re here?”

  Iris chuckled. “I wouldn’t bet on it. Can’t you smell the testosterone?”’

  Sara waved a hand in front of her face and wrinkled her nose. “It’s like a boys’ locker room in here. I can practically smell the jock strap funk.”

  “Oh god, here comes my lunch. Just kidding, no need to grab the wastebasket.”

  The two males stood chest to chest, jabbing each other in the chest and snarling like animals.

  “So, who do you think’s going to win?” Sara wondered aloud as she watched the scene drawing the attention of everyone leaving the building for the day.

  “I honestly can’t say. Mateo is a vampire, but Brodie’s no slouch as a wolf.”

  “Very diplomatic,” Sara said with a wry smirk. “Okay, how about this—who’s going to throw the first punch?”

  “Oh, that’s easy.” Iris waved a hand toward the men. “Brodie. He’s been trying to convince me to marry him for months and is becoming a little impatient.”

  Sara’s attention turned to Iris. “Ooh, really? Are you going to say yes? He is pretty smokin’. All manly and stuff…”

  Brodie’s dark, shaggy hair fell rakishly across his blue eyes. By anyone’s definition, he was hot—chiseled features, built like a brick-shithouse, masculine in all the best ways. Yet Sara’s obvious appreciation of him didn’t raise so much as a flicker of jealousy in Iris’s heart.

  Sure, she liked him. A lot. He
was a good man, through and through, no doubt about it. He’d provide for her and her baby, even though it wasn’t his biologically. He’d protect her and stick by her side, no matter what. Not like Rafe, who’d abandoned her after their one night of passion without so much as a goodbye.

  Forget Rafe, just like he forgot you, she admonished herself. She refused to sit here and brood, especially when the quarreling men in front of her provided such ample opportunity for entertainment. Sick of their arguing, and wanting to lift her spirits as well as go home already, Iris began to cast.

  Something silly and mischievous seemed in order. The deep, growly voices cursing and arguing instantly turned into the adorable chipmunk squeaks of cartoon characters. Both men jerked back in surprise, their hands clutching at their throats, as if that would do anything. Mateo tried to yell again, but when he sounded like a playful Alvin, he clapped a hand over his mouth and turned wide eyes on Iris.

  She tried hard to keep a straight face, but when Brodie squeaked a rebuke at her, she broke out giggling. Honestly, if she didn’t laugh, she just might break into tears.

  “I need that incantation,” Sara said, laughing as the men glared at Iris, not daring to speak.

  “What?” Iris asked them. “You want me to lift the spell? I could do that, I suppose. I mean, I would like to go home, but I can’t have you… gentlemen, for lack of a better word, behaving like this anymore. It’s too stressful on me, which makes it too stressful on the baby. So, until you two can act civilized…”

  Mateo glowered at her, while Brodie glared at him. With a pained look, the wolf finally shoved a hand toward the vampire. Mateo looked at it like it was dirty, then finally grasped it and gave it one overly hard shake.

  Males.

  “Wonderful,” she said, sighing deeply and releasing them from the casting. “Glad we’re all friends now.”

  “Hmph,” Mateo snorted, his normal voice restored.

  Brodie rolled his eyes. “Right back atchya, pal.”

  Footsteps echoed in the stairwell that led to the tunnels carved out underneath the entire Othercross campus. Normally Iris wouldn’t have even noticed the distraction, but her magic sparked and kindled inside her at the person’s approach. Her chair swiveled toward the stairwell, and for a moment she thought Sara had turned her in the chair, but Sara was still laughing about the chipmunk spell and not paying the slightest bit of attention to Iris. That’s when she realized she’d turned on her own accord—or her body had.

  A dark shape rose from the depths of the tunnels. A shape she knew. Intimately.

  Adrenaline surged into her system as the shape resolved into the form of the man she thought she’d never see again. The man who’d left her alone and brokenhearted after just one night together. The man she hated and wanted more than any other.

  “Rafe.”

  His name was little more than a breath on her lips, but his electric gaze locked onto her like a guided missile. He paused on the last step, flickering in and out of view between the crush of bodies leaving the building after a long day of work.

  Gripping the arms of the chair with all her strength, Iris pushed to her feet, her bulging tummy leading the way to vertical. Rafe’s fathomless eyes, the deep, clear blue of the Mediterranean Sea, sparkled even as they widened in surprise. He stepped casually between and around people as the crowd thinned, his focus never wavering from her, though his eyes continually flicked down to her belly. His lips parted, and though he was too far away for her to hear, her name whispered through the air.

  “Iris.”

  The sound—or rather, non-sound—wrapped around her like a comforting cloak on a cold, dark night. No anger, no rebuke. No shame either.

  As he closed the distance between them, Iris closed her eyes and breathed a heavy sigh. “I can’t do this right now.”

  Of course, she didn’t have much choice in the matter. When a Master vampire wanted to chat, you chatted. Warm fingers wrapping around her wrist forced her eyes open.

  “Mi amada.” His voice resonated within her like a gong, vibrating every nerve ending until the hairs on her arms stood on end.

  Damn, he was gorgeous. It wasn’t as if she’d forgotten what he looked like over the past seven months, but her memory was nothing compared to looking him in the perfectly chiseled face. Lips her body would never forget parted, almost in invitation to press hers against them. His strong nose might look large on another man’s face, but it suited him, giving him a regal look perfect for a Master. Even his blond hair knew who the boss was, never daring to fall out of place. Then there was his body…

  He had to have close to five or six inches on her five-foot-nine frame, not to mention weight—even the baby weight—but every ounce of his was muscle. A powerful memory of her fingers skimming over every hard, supple surface of him brought heat to her cheeks and left her slightly breathless.

  God, she had no energy for this confrontation, but she was an Arcane Sentinel. Running away like the scared little girl she felt like inside was beneath her. She could handle this. She had to, for her baby’s sake at the very least. She’d pull on her big-girl panties—grown much bigger over the last few months—and deal with him, but she’d never let him know how much he’d hurt her. Her pride wouldn’t allow it.

  Giving him a polite smile, she finally met his gaze fully. “Long time no see. When did you get back?”

  Good. Her voice managed to sound conversational, curious even. No hint of her internal panic. The boys, damn them, were watching silently. Even Brodie.

  “Today. I only stopped to confer with Tomás before coming straight here.”

  She was determined to remain neutral, even slightly friendly. After all, he’d never made any promises—not with his words, anyway. His eyes and his touch, on the other hand…

  Iris shook away the thought and gave him a tight smile. “Ah, well, I’ll leave you to your business…”

  “Nice try, mi amada. You are my only business. We need to talk.”

  She blew out a puff of frustrated air. “Yes, I suppose we do. This might not be the best time—” Before she could finish her sentence, Rafe lifted her in his arms easily and spun on his heel. “Hey! Put me down!”

  He hadn’t taken more than a step when Brodie growled and lunged for them. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Rafe shook off Brodie’s hand from his shoulder but didn’t slow. Iris glared up at him. “I have the same question. Now put me down.”

  He ignored her too, which wasn’t frustrating as hell or anything. Irritated by his alphahole behavior, Iris whispered a short incantation, but never finished. One second she was cradled in Rafe’s arms, the next second she was on her feet and he was standing across the foyer, muscled arms folded over his chest, glaring at her.

  She wobbled for a half-second before realizing he’d set her down so quickly and gently, she hadn’t even felt the impact of her soles touching marble. The speed and strength of a vampire would always unnerve her just a bit, even though she had her own strengths.

  Iris knew why he was glaring and lifted a finger. “Don’t give me that look. We can talk, but no manhandling.”

  “You would cast a spell on me?” He sounded more sour than outraged.

  She shrugged. “Only when you grab me like that without my permission. Tit for tat, my friend.”

  Friend. What a joke. Judging by the way her body reacted to his presence, she’d never truly see him as a friend. He’d always be the one who broke her. Not that he’d ever have the satisfaction of knowing that.

  She turned a soft smile on Brodie. “A conversation is inevitable. Please don’t intervene, okay?”

  “You heard her,” Mateo sneered at the wolf. “If you attempt to interfere, I’ll be forced to dissuade you.”

  Brodie’s scowl bounced between her and Rafe until he finally crossed his arms in a defeated huff. Iris turned her attention back to the father of her unborn child.

  “Let’s go to the cafeteria.”


  “I prefer we return to my home.”

  She ignored him. Arguing was beneath her dignity, and they’d already established what would happen if he attempted to kidnap her. Rafe fell in at her side, offering his arm in a courtly gesture that threatened to remind her why she’d fallen in—

  Cutting off that thought, Iris accepted his arm, more as a matter of practicality than anything else. Her balance wasn’t great these days, and she couldn’t trust her knees to hold her considerable weight anymore. Even her bones ached. She felt… old.

  Heat and energy radiated off him like he was the most powerful furnace in the world. A nuclear reactor, just waiting to explode. It fed her soul and made her quake from the feral rawness of it. It also turned her on something fierce.

  They’d made it to the stairwell’s first landing when Rafe spun on her, pinning her against the wall without so much as touching her. She needed to keep space between them, even though her body and soul yearned to get closer to him. He said nothing, simply gazed into her eyes, speaking to her heart without words.

  “Yes,” she answered. “The baby’s yours. If you want to arrange for genetic testing once it’s born—”

  A furrow dug deep into his brow. “What?”

  Iris swallowed hard. She’d imagined this moment a dozen times a day since she’d discovered she was pregnant, but none of that practice helped now that she was face-to-face with her baby’s daddy.

  “Most guys would want proof of paternity,” she explained with a nonchalance she didn’t feel. Not even close. “Someone in your position—”

  Rafe’s upper lip curled in a snarl as Mateo and Brodie entered the stairwell. “The only reason to perform such a test is if you…” He glanced toward Brodie, nostrils flaring and fangs descending.

  It wasn’t her finest moment, but for a brief flash, Iris thought about fueling Rafe’s obvious jealousy. The urge passed as quickly as it had come, thank the Goddess. Such games were not only beneath her, they were just plain cruel. Rafe may have affected her judgment before, but she wasn’t about to become an asshole because of him.