by Scott, Talyn
Well, hell. “For opening his mouth to me,” Sixten replied.
“That is so.”
The creature arose, walking to him until they were toe-to-toe, but Sixten refused to mist away without pinpointing the reason behind what had just happened. “Are you going to show me more of what you’ve got, or have we finished playing?”
“Brother of Rave.”
“Some days, yeah, I claim him.” he said, “Most days, not so much.”
“We want you.” It tilted its head, braided locks adorned with beads clicked around his bare shoulders, mirroring the flickering lights from many surrounding inhuman and highly intelligent eyes.
Sixten laughed. “Stand in a very long line.” It coiled its lip at his response. Sixten assumed it was a sneer, but the Habaline was too stunning to pull off a simple, human mannerism such as repugnance.
“You stand by the vampires, then.”
“I’m pretty much just standing, right now. You hate them. They hate you. I’m tossed in the middle, repeatedly. I walked away years ago. So sick of everyone’s shit that I nearly lost my mind, but here we are again - same problems on a new day.”
“Our numbers have grown since you were officially Vojak.”
“There is that.” Sixten didn’t care for the fact they were keeping up with his career.
“We will reestablish our numbers into citizens who will rival vampires and Weres, blending flawlessly into mortal society.” His voice lost its melodious edge, sounding more mechanical as though programed to repeat an age-old, relentless chant.
“What scientific progress has ever run flawlessly?” Sixten asked. “What evolvement has no growing pains? From a Habaline’s perspective, what amounts to insignificant occurrences, more often than not, brings devastation among fellow species – mortals most of all.” He threw his palms up. “But what do I know?”
“I understand you still are not with your vampire brethren in an official capacity, evidently you are discouraged with the part that splits your whole to half.”
“I’m sickened,” he said morosely, trying to get the monster back on track. “I have to tell my chosen mate her sibling is dead.”
“I had no choice.”
“That’s the very reason I can never side with you.” He thrust both hands through his hair, fighting not to tear it out. “Habalines don’t work around or solve problems when they can easily plow through them. They smell weak blood and it’s ‘fuck the world’, yeah?” He stepped back. “Sure, I’m half you. I feel what crawls through my body daily. I fight its presence hour by hour since there’s nothing palatable to embrace. This race,” he said, circling his finger between them, “has a long way to go before its superiors unlock those rattling cages you think are well hidden.” He started dissolving, misting away as his words circled the air. “And if you hurry your younglings along, my ancient brother, you will bring down the human society you crave way too much to begin with.”
Chapter 11
“Get lost, Six.”
“Your crew at INKS said she was here. I can’t smell her.” His irises flared. “Where’s Blythe?” He leaned over Ryan’s desk, staring him down while radiating power the younger vampire had no problem understanding: He was about to get his ass handed to him if he refused to cooperate. Persuasive tactics were Sixten’s specialty and no one would be the wiser.
Thick walls muffling club sounds surrounded Ryan’s private office, and everyone knew thick walls worked two ways. No one would hear Ryan’s pleas for help or resounding screams of agony. But he would try something simple first, Blythe was going to be upset enough about her idiot brother dying. “You’re young. You have a hefty mortgage on this building. One I can payoff within minutes.” He dangled is phone. “Name the amount. Funds wired to your account anywhere.”
Obviously, Blythe’s brother dealt with Habalines on a very personal level, so Blythe was coming home with him tonight. One way or the other, she would be under his protection, even if he had to bribe or beat the nervous bastard in front of him. If that didn’t work, he was going shifter all the way.
Damned the consequences, Blythe would get over it eventually.
“You have to know that I’m not giving her up to you of all creatures. Besides, I love her.”
“Take my generous offer. Tell her she has to move out. I have the rest covered.”
“So she’s pissed at me instead of you? Like I’d fall for that. You fucked her over. She doesn’t want you.”
“Listen, not that it’s any of your business, but my brother fucked her over. Rave shifted into my form that infamous night and nailed Blythe’s best friend. She walked in and thought it was me.” Sixten cracked his knuckles. “But how do you explain shifters to a mortal, Ryan? Aliens aren’t good pillow talk.” He sniffed the air, searching for her as he spoke, “Or realistic explanations.”
Earlier, Kash paved the way for Qudir, the commanding Vojak, as well as the other Vojaks to have a sit-down when Sixten misted to the sanctuary. He came clean about everything he knew, even the recent family reunion between him and Rave. In turn, Qudir delivered a cryptic message regarding Blythe.
Sixten’s chosen mate centered a widening black hole; one, for some unspoken reason, only Maestru could forestall. And things were going south quickly, more than they already were, if Sixten didn’t step back up and represent the vampire race. So tonight, the Vojaks managed a serious commitment from him, one that told of a permanent ambassadorship representing the Species Breed Vampires.
He had no choice. Sixten placed Blythe’s safety above everything, always had. Begrudgingly, he agreed the best place for her was Captiva Island under their collective protection. But he was getting answers out of his scheming Coven Master, even if he had to get down and dirty to do it.
After their meeting, he saved time by cleaning up in Kash’s room, scrupulously showering off Anthony’s remains. Then raided Kash’s closet and pieced together the easygoing clubbing look to blend in with the humans. He threw on his friend’s Armani piped Moto jacket with matching sateen chinos and low-key black, leather boots. Clothes weren’t the only things he pilfered. Serious blades strategically hid all over his body, all courtesy of his friend’s stash. Now, Sixten stood before Ryan with his shoulders squared and his spine proudly straight. Not because he projected unchallenged power, or because he carried blades welded from deadly materials not of this world, he simply looked fucking hot in black.
So look out Blythe.
By the expression on Ryan’s face, he believed the shifter story. “I’m sorry you have a dangerous mofucker for a brother; I really am. But it’s another good reason for you to stay away from her. I love her. Accept it.”
Sixten glided down in the way of vampires, and sat on a leather club chair that had seen better days. Ignoring the ‘good reasons’ part of Ryan’s spiel, he said, “You don’t love Blythe in that way. She’s not your Bride, and you’re certainly not bedding her.”
“You saw us in bed when you were Tom Catting at the window. What better proof is there?”
“Scent.”
“She didn’t let you in, Six,” he said evenly, walking around to sit on the edge of his desk. “Take you lies someplace else.”
No, he wouldn’t discuss how Blythe succumbed to him. It was beautiful and very private. So instead, he admitted, “Her brother died in my arms tonight.” The words slogged out as if he walked in wet cement – hard to tread forward but impossible to stand still. “A bit ago, I clogged a drain with pieces and pieces of Anthony Giarrusso.”
All the blood drained from Ryan’s face, and since he was Species, that was a feat within itself. “He’d broken off in so many directions,” he whispered hoarsely, slumping at the shoulders, “I’m surprised he lasted this long.”
“Tell me anything you know, quickly.”
“I can’t tell you jack, Six. Anything I have to say is to the Vojaks, and last time I checked, you weren’t one.”
Everyone kept throwing that in his face, bu
t times had recently changed. “As of tonight, I am. And I have to make this right. Firstly, she’s obviously in danger and I have the feeling you know more about it than what you’re letting on. Now, I would easily forget to be a law-abiding Vojak and show you what I can do to those who refuse to answer pertinent questions.” His lip curled mockingly. “But why mess up your ugly mug worse than it is?”
“We both know you wouldn’t piss off Blythe that way.”
“Ah, back to my forbearance, everyone assumes way too much when it comes to me. I haven’t an inkling why. Anthony assumed. Look where that got him.”
“Not by your hands – no way.” Ryan shook his head. “Who pulled Anthony’s trigger?”
“Habalines.” Then silence. “Though, I was probably going to anyway.” Another long drawn-out silence implying Ryan shouldn’t ask anything more, or he might not live through the week.
“You’re right,” Ryan confessed. “Blythe’s in worse danger than I thought.” He scrubbed both of his hands down his face and kept them there, speaking through his fingers he explained, “Somehow, Anthony knew I was a vampire when they returned home, and short of torturing him, I couldn’t find the culprit who exposed our race to a loud-mouthed mortal. He offered me a pittance to put her under my protection. Of course, I refused any payment, housing her under the guise of accepting a meager rent and allowing the immortals to think we were lovers. Meanwhile, I gave her all the work she wanted to take on.”
“Why was she working so much?”
“Even though Tony offered me the funds for her protection, their finances were a travesty and she needed all the work she could get her hands on to pay his medical bills. On top of that, I got the gest they were in some weird exile from Italy, avoiding someone criminally inclined or simply powerful. I can’t prove it, though.”
Ryan met Six with a deliberate stare and continued, “When she started working, other immortals swarmed her. I mean, she’s gorgeous and everything, but the draw to me…to them…was purely magnetic, yet something I couldn’t place. Although, I never detected anything off or inhuman about her, for her protection alone, I approached Maestru. I told him about Anthony and he stopped by and observed Blythe. He remembered that you were to claim her years ago.”
“Did claim her,” Sixten interrupted, moving lethal muscle underneath his jacket.
“Alright. Later that particular night, Maestru…sampled her blood when she slept and insisted I mark her throat or he’d send her to another Species. I wasn’t about to let that happen.”
“I noticed you weren’t stupid enough to make that mark permanent.”
“I was going to. Maestru threatened me, insisting I claim her as property and nothing more. Some immortals are giving me shit over it. Others are following suit. Claiming human pets as property since they think Maestru let me get away with it.”
“Maestru kept his hands clean, Ryan. Property is frowned upon, not forbidden.”
“Makes me look like a piece of shit to those who matter,” Ryan grumbled.
“Maestru knows something about her, yet he didn’t divulge anything, right?”
Ryan muttered a string of blistering curses.
“You may not trust me.” His gaze skidded between Ryan and the door. “But the only way I can help her is if I know everything.” A muscle worked in his jaw.
“Maestru and I are on shaky ground, Ryan. Tell me before she ends up like her brother.”
“All I’m going to say is that he’s on her.” He slammed his fist on his desk. “On her the way a barn owl eyes a field mouse and it shakes me up. I had to keep going with a façade of ownership, not only to keep her away from other Species, but for my parents. Maestru told me he would pay them a visit when I pushed him for an explanation. You know the Coven Master. He has his sick ways.”
“Now we’re down to facts. So…to sum this up.” Sixten tapped his fingertips on his knee. “You know she’s in danger. You understand someone murdered her brother only moments ago. Violently, I might add. Something suspicious is going on as far as Italy’s concerned. And, oh yeah” - he snapped his fingers - “the Coven Master of North America shadows her with some type of unnamed anticipation and weird protectiveness.” He cocked his head. “Still, as old as I am, I sense there’s more. Something bigger. Something you don’t want me or maybe anyone else to know.” Silence stretched again while horrific thoughts pummeled Sixten’s mind, each more disturbing than the last. His Habaline raised its alien head, centering the rest of Sixten’s body on task. He had a chosen mate for years now. And it was time he treated her that way – in every way.
“I had to take her for a blood transfusion. She’s anemic. That’s deterred, for now. Dru Holt, you know him?”
“Yeah. The doctor.”
“Gave her his blood and she’s looking better. He has a theory about her. One he won’t own up to if hard-pressed.”
“God, it takes you years to get to the important stuff.”
“Donor.”
“What?”
“A claimed Donor in need of her Dynasty Vampyr,” he answered quietly. “I don’t know how many blood transfusions she’ll need with our blood, or if it’ll work again after this. Dru was concerned for her, wants to help her even. But from a distance, since he has a new Bride. I mean, I can understand that, right? Who wants Lovci or the Dynasty up your ass? I heard they were more brutal than the Vojaks.”
Ryan started talking again but he couldn’t hear the rest. “Where is she?”
“I said Maestru won’t back down on this.”
“Vampires fuck property. You’re not fucking her. Therefore, she’s not your property.”
“He said if you try to interfere that I’m to notify him. What the hell am I supposed to do? My parents…”
Find her. Sniffing the air again, Sixten began the hunt. Pushing through the door and sprinting through the darkened corridor. At the end of the hall, the club lights met his eyes, blinding green, gold, and red, before they changed into surreal silver. Or was that his Habaline eyes making a special appearance?
“Shit, Six.” Ryan caught up with him and tugged on his elbow. Sixten ripped an answering snarl that nearly shook his teeth out of his head. Ryan cautiously backed away but held up a pair of shades. “You’re eyes, man. Just slip them on…keep them.”
Six adjusted the blacked-out Revos and said with a low, growling voice that wasn’t anywhere close to normal, “Stay away from her or die, Ryan.” His fangs pulsated with his harsh warning, “The choice is yours.”
Ryan held his palms up in a show of difference. “I have to report it, Six. You have to deal with Maestru, not my parents.” He kept his hands up, readying to defend himself.
In a flash, he slammed Ryan against the wall. “Fucking report it, Ryan. She. Is. Mine.”
“Asshole,” he coughed out the rest after Sixten embedded him into the wall, “I’m giving you a five minute head start.” He pushed himself out of the broken drywall. “And then I make the call…for my parents’ sakes. But you’ll be taken down, Six.”
“That’s for me to worry about,” he spat through fangs that refused to retract. “She never belonged to you, and Maestru can’t do shit when I take her.”
“Hold up, don’t take her.”
Sixten smiled cruelly. “I’m not like anything you’ve ever encountered. Remember that if you try to touch her again.” He gave him one last slam for good measure – all the way past the drywall until Ryan hit an old brick and mortar wall.
Sixten determinedly strode forward with his Habaline side in the driver’s seat. He passed the bar where a talented, nonhuman bartender was spinning bottles overhead like flaming torches in a circus act. The humans slid on and off barstools between dances. Sweat mingled with various strengths of colognes and perfumes, each more disgusting than the next. Where are you?
When he stopped to negotiate his next turn, assorted chippies took it as an opportunity to run their hands all over him. He ignored them all, earnestly pushing away tho
se that went for his crotch while he discretely hunted. Ah, there she was, Blythe’s sweetly distinct heartbeat was music to his keen ears. He spun right and caught her watching him with a deep scowl on her extraordinary face, right when a chippie leaned into him. “Let’s dance, or we can head somewhere more private.” She grabbed his ass and gave it a squeeze.
Dammit to hell. “Off you go.” He used his powers and coerced them to scatter while he made unwavering steps Blythe’s way. And wouldn’t you know it? She made a dash through the back door. Perfect, if he got to her before anyone else. He sped up. Not just to catch her, but also to avoid the sudden power shift he sensed in the club. The big boys were out tonight – all mixes, but none shifters.
“Don’t,” a werewolf instantly stood in his way.
“Rock, the very spine of the North American Pack,” he mocked. “You took time away from your nightly bump and grind to find me? How flattering. Move.” Rock was blocking the door, standing between Sixten and Blythe and he wasn’t budging. Dumb. Dumb. Werewolf.
“Hear me out.”
“Usually people say that when they want to change another’s mind. Not happening, I said move.” He took a step forward and Rock planted his feet shoulder width apart and slapped a palm against the door handle. “She’s under the packs protection.”
“Fuck you.” Revulsion seeped from his pores with the mention of Blythe and beasts, and he shouldn’t have to repeatedly explain himself to a dog. “She has absolutely nothing to do with you primitive beasts.”
“So you say, not what her bloodline says.”
“I have a nose, hotshot. I can smell. She’s not a mixed blood.” He sounded strange speaking around his fangs, but Rock and company understood every word. “You fools are losing a mating war, and I get that. Bating hard for the team is one thing, but claiming females that don’t belong anywhere near your pack is another thing altogether.” A blast of dry ice fogged the dance floor, drifting toward the back. “Move dog.”
Sixten was getting more anxious by the second, worried about Blythe walking through the alley. He started to mist, and a stern warning came from behind. “No misting inside the club, Six, or you’re out for three days regenerating…painfully.” He felt the box against his back, cold and ready for a cruel reorganization using every organ inside his body as punishment. Bane Ruyter, the North American Beta, stood behind him.
