by Scott, Talyn
But Bane looked way too confident, and she knew it had nothing to do with him being an authoritative Beta. He knew something important. One of many who knew pertinent facts about her life that she didn’t, and that just pissed her off.
“There aren’t many women who could sit with a werewolf and have a polite conversation.” He paused and cocked an ebony brow. “I’d say most would pull a disappearing act.” A masculine lip curled. “Not that they would get far with me on their tail.”
“Maybe.”
“You aren’t most women, because you’re a female mixed-blood.” Then he flashed a genuine smile. “Fear doesn’t affect you the way it does someone who is wholly human.”
She frowned over at him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You are not a Giarrusso,” he said gravely.
She stood up so fast her chair fell over. “Then who the hell do you think I am!”
“A Ruyter.” He stood up. “My bloodline.”
“What?”
Bane had that blinding speed, the same as Sixten. He was suddenly behind her, turning them both towards the bar. Facing the large mirror lined with countless bottles, he whispered, “Look at us. We are blood.”
She stood numbly, shaking her head at their reflections.
“We are. I smell it, but I can prove it by paperwork and blood, since you refuse to take a Beta’s word.” He gazed at her. “Come home with me. If you don’t trust me enough for that. At least go to the Alpha’s manse on Sanibel. He’s away in Miami, but it’s fully staffed and security will be tighter than anything the vampires can come up with.”
“Yeah,” her voice broke. “I heard how well you protected your wife and queen.” He flinched behind her. “I’m fine where I am. Sixten and I are together - for good.”
He delved into something she didn’t want to discuss. “Word is, you’re a Donor. We think that’s why the vampires can’t scent you as a Were mixed-blood. Most pack members do not understand the significance of Donors to vampires,” he was speaking to her reflection, since she wouldn’t turn around, “but I do. The Alpha does. Loose chatter like that in the immortal world puts you in harm’s way. Bounties are placed on heads like yours. If you continue to hang with vampires, you’re a blood slave waiting to happen.” He drew in a breath and leaned against the bar, facing her instead of her mirrored image.
She was trying to soak everything in, and then sort it out to make sense. But she was having a hard time after the ‘you’re not a Giarrusso’ comment. Somehow, she knew he wasn’t lying. And it didn’t make sense for a Beta of his magnitude to claim just anyone as family.
“We have a gifted shaman from Scotland’s pack,” he continued when she stayed quiet, “and we think he can help you.”
“How…are we related?”
“It’s a long story I would like to share with you. Maybe, it’s incentive for you to come with me and find out. I won’t force you, though. But I will say that you have brothers out there, Blythe. I’ve contacted them, and they’re dying to meet you – to protect you as their own.”
She thought that over. “I…have Anthony.”
“Well, since he’s gone,” Bane said softly. “You’ll have the rest of us to lean on.”
“Where did he go?”
“Blythe?” Bane shook his head. “What do you mean…where did he go?”
“You said he was gone.” She gripped the bar until her knuckles turned white. “I didn’t know he was gone. He hasn’t been returning my phone calls, but Sixten said he spoke with him earlier.”
“Damn it to hell.” His eyebrows shot up. “Sixten didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“He was actually with Anthony,” he released a heavy sigh and continued, “when he was killed by Habalines.”
“No.” Her other hand clutched a nearby bar stool as she took in deep cleansing breaths.
“It happened the night we came to Sixten’s house in order to…help you. Our pack knew about the altercation.” Bane tilted his head, his expression guileless. “Can’t keep that kind of stuff on the low talk, you know? I guess our worry played out in our aggression when we approached and demanded you. I’m truly sorry we were frightening.” He reached for her as if to steady her trembling, but she pushed his hands away. “I don’t like Six, honey.” He added reluctantly, “But I believe he tried to stop them. Sixten would have done that for you. And I heard the Species tried to make Anthony Undead, so you could have him back. But, uh, it didn’t take so well. So that plan’s out.”
“Habalines?”
“Yeah, shit, honey, I’m sorry.” He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Let me hold you. Scream. Cry. Let it all out. I’ve got big shoulders.”
“No.”
“Please, come home with me,” he said solemnly. “My mate, Renee, is wonderful. Her cooking sucks, but you can have those talks females need to have.” He pushed his hands in his pockets and started pacing. “We’ll pull together around you - a true family who will support you through this. You’ll want for nothing.”
“She has me,” Sixten hissed lethally, and Blythe started crying the moment she saw him. He glided to her looking hostile and gorgeous, stretching to his full height while putting his big body between her and Bane. “Yes, Blythe, your brother was murdered. Until this morning, I thought we were bringing him back to you.” He shook his blond head determinedly. “His injuries were too severe, even for a Species to revive him.”
“How?” she cried, nearly suffocating. Was there any air in this place? “How is someone Undead? Who are you…things…that can bring people back from the dead?” She felt tears running down her face.
“I would never discuss the mechanics of it in front of a beast.” He inclined his head toward Bane. “Only few are chosen. They are Undead, a product of vampires. They are a classification of Species Vampires and governed by the Vojaks.”
“The walking dead,” Bane interrupted, “the ones who play across the big screens in human theaters. You know…no daylight, erratic behavior, and sucking blood -”
Sixten’s hands were around Bane’s throat before Blythe could blink. “My father is Undead.” They were chin-to-chin. “Watch it, dog.”
Bane gave Sixten a look that said ‘I suffer you to live’, but he wasn’t going to make the first move. And suddenly the concept of a Were family wasn’t so far out there. It hit Blythe so hard, the way Bane already cared for her, enough to tolerate Sixten’s manhandling or even put a roof over her head if she needed it. Bane was part of her and Anthony…was gone.
“Tony was improving,” she trudged through the words, “beating the disease. I visited him at work a few days ago. He needed money for some new medicine.” She snuffed ineloquently and didn’t care. Sixten stepped away from Bane. For a moment, Blythe hoped for either of them to take back their agonizing words. But she could see that wasn’t happening.
“He would have never died of cancer, moja láska. I don’t want to add to your pain. But, you see…Anthony lied to you all along,” he spoke slowly, trying to push the words he knew that she wouldn’t accept. “He was involved with something seriously underhanded and wasn’t sick. At. All.”
“Six.” Black dots were forming over her eyes, obscuring her vision and pulling her mind far away.
“Is it another migraine?” His arms were around her, comforting and warm.
“I don’t think so,” she murmured, clutching her head.
“She has migraines?” Bane asked. “I’ll summon Dru.”
“He already knows. Go away,” Sixten growled a warning and picked her up. “If I could take this pain from you,” he hesitated while kissing her closed eyes, “I would. Don’t put this between us. We’ve come too far. We made a commitment, and I won’t let you walk away from it.”
“I’m not walking away from you over this,” she choked up. “In your weird way, you were trying to help. But I’m very angry with you.”
“I don’t blame you,” he whispered over her lips, mo
ving her deeper into the club near the back door. “Be mad all you want.”
“I’ll know if you’re lying.” She pressed her face in his open shirt collar, rolling her forehead on the hollow at the base of his throat, sobbing until her chest rattled. “So tell me the truth. Did he suffer?”
“Not at all.” His lips were in her hair, kissing her. “Anthony’s ashes were brought to the house. When you are ready, you’ll decide what to do with them.” Sixten crushed her to his chest. “Or you can do nothing at all.”
“I love you,” she said simply.
“And I love you.” He ran his chin over her temple, his breath sweet and relaxing. “I want you to tell me every day. I’ll never tire of it.” They were at the door. “If you don’t, I’ll force it out of you,” he teased her, but she didn’t smile. All she wanted to do was crawl inside his skin and stay in his haven. Hide from the world until it stopped bothering her, but that would be running away. And Blythe was a lot of things, but not a coward.
Sixten stopped in the middle of the alley and uttered his usual string of profanities.
“I hate when you do that.” Blythe glanced around. “That look means trouble’s coming.” She tried to get down, but Sixten secured his arms around her, and to her utter astonishment, jumped up three stories as if he were skipping mud puddles.
“Get down,” he ordered when they landed on the roof. “Keep your head covered.”
She heard Kash’s voice as he misted in, “They’re everywhere. Habaline mixed-bloods. Someone tipped them off, or they sensed all the concentrated power around the club. An ambush. I don’t know how he managed it, but Maestru already bagged five shifters.”
“Let me guess, all males.”
“That’s all I smell so far, why?”
“One of my predictions,” Sixten said after clotheslining a very extinct and highly overgrown form of Teratorn flying above their heads, “and it’s one of those times I hate being right.”
“None were pure, though.” Kash’s boots scraped across the roof, crunching broken glass. “God help us if the pure bloods join in. Rock and Bane are holding off the west side, throwing miasma everywhere, mentally directing the humans since these freaks don’t give a fuck what they shake up. Or if we’re all on the evening news.”
“So much for blending into society,” Sixten muttered. “What’s the guard count at the sanctuary?”
“Fifty,” Kash answered, “We always maintain fifty.”
“I’m taking her there.”
“Take my weapons,” he offered. “I’ll mist her and grab extra ammo.”
“No, man. I’ll load up on weapons after I secure her inside the sanctuary.”
“You don’t need to lose control with her, Six. I’m certain I can bite her and walk away.”
“I’ve been working on it, Kash. I’m good.” He kicked a black rat off the roof, but he wasn’t sure if it was shifter. “When I return, we fight as brothers-n-arms.”
“I guess Maestru sucked you back in after all.” Kash scanned the streets. “So, yeah, we need your power, man.” He shook his spikes from his face, narrowed his lavender eyes. “The humans…there’s gonna be a lot to cover up this time.” He released his Species and jumped from the roof, toppling a giant coyote that was peculiarly out of place roaming the streets of Fort Myers.
Sixten turned to Blythe. “Moja láska, I have to get you to safety, and then come back and fight.”
“I heard.” She pushed her hair from her eyes and looked up at him. “There’s bird crap up here, loads, and I’m lying in it. Can we get going?”
“Certainly and when this is over,” Sixten said, squatting next to her, “I’m going to have this place pressure washed and bring you back.”
“Why?”
“You look so beautiful against the moon, angel. So beautiful. I would dance with you on this rooftop all night.” He pressed his lips to hers. “Would you save that dance for me?” He moved his mouth to her throat.
“Yes.” Her eyes watered as she ran her fingers through his tawny hair. She didn’t want him to fight, didn’t want him to risk his life in any way whatsoever. “All of my dances are for you, Sixten. Only you.”
He released his Species, and she stiffened. “Trust me,” he hissed, and gently sank his fangs into her throat before she raised a voice in protest.
Everything disappeared from around them, leaving only Sixten and Blythe. Her mind emptied and refocused on him. Physical forms receded while the stars brightened. As if someone powerful hit the slow motion button on the world’s remote control, she saw fragments of their bodily cells joining, floating high above the roof.
Sixten kept her conscious, granting her an extraordinarily inhuman experience. And she’d never forget watching Fort Myers disappear as they picked up momentum and spread across the river. She’d always remember how they headed to the island, took a moment to mist above the nighttime clouds, before closing in on the secret entrance that marked the sanctuary.
She laughed softly, awestruck as a child while staring over at Sixten’s mist. Time stood still as they drank one another in, all in the middle of chaos, they only needed each other. His ice-green eyes flared as he mouthed ‘I love you’, before they disappeared deep into the ground, hand and hand.
Five minutes later, Sixten had her in Kash’s bedroom. “Stay inside this room until I get back,” he ordered her.
Blythe kept her distance on the other side of the bedroom. In literally seconds, while maintaining his Species form, Sixten covered his body in black leather and an array of deadly armament, moving too fast for her to track. His fangs were stretching over his bottom lip and she rubbed her throat as an afterthought.
He froze instantly. “Are you hurting?” Ice-green eyes darkened, roaming over her throat.
“No.” She eyed him back, staring at a massive, black leather wall with fangs. “Not even a sting.”
In his distorted voice, he said, “I’m still me. Remember that when you see me this way.”
“I know.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go. Help.” Another blurring movement had his arms around her. Endless leather, the scent of Sixten, and long fangs, all suddenly molded to her body. His mouth worked hers, thrusting his warm, velvet tongue between his daggers, moving inside her.
Then he was gone.
Blythe looked around, feeling bereft without her man. All those years apart were wasted. She’d never get them back, but she had every intention of making up for lost time.
Blinking rapidly, she made the conscious decision not to cry over her brother until Six got back. She wanted his strength to lean on, and she needed to understand what games Anthony had been playing. More than that, she had to know who she really was. And if there was a biological family waiting for her out there, should she trust them?
Before long, exhaustion took over. A shower sounded good, so she pulled new jeans and a Henley from the shopping bags Six brought in the room, wishing she could wash the store smell off, but they were better than staying in the leather dress all night while waiting for Six to show up.
Making her way to the bathroom, she picked up a basket of overpriced bath products and shook her head. All were unscented. “Figures,” she mumbled, remembering how Sixten loved her natural scent.
Another step stopped her cold. Blythe frowned, staring at the floor as the earth rumbled under her feet. A crash hit the wall – outside the door, in the main corridor. Another followed, and another; she spun her head, searching all around for an alternative exit. Nothing presented itself but the single door that led to the sounds of impending doom.
Men screamed as if their bodies were on fire. She bit her hand, stifling her own answering scream. Were they under attack? If so, who would find them here? She shuddered at their inhuman cries – inhuman suffering. Whoever was causing this much destruction was stronger than fifty collective vampires were.
Somehow, Blythe made her feet move again. She quickly riffled through Kash’s top dresser drawer a
nd lifted a lone switchblade. Great. She flicked it open and studied its serrated edge. It wasn’t constructed of any metal she’d ever seen, so she was hoping that she could put it to good use and slice up whatever was coming down the hall enough to get away, which was optimism at its best. She wasn’t a vampire or a Vojak…so yeah…good luck to her.
Hair stood on her nape when an eerie quietness shadowed a teeth-gritting scrape across her door. The doorknob wiggled. The lock groaned in protest. “I smell her,” a bold voice said.
Who was he?
Another series of screams coupled with curses and wet, straining gurgles. Blythe tasted bile on the back of her tongue right when her door exploded.
Metal fragments sprayed the room, and she hit the floor, covering her head but not dropping her weapon. A thousand sawed-offs could have blasted simultaneously, and their damage wouldn’t be comparable. Or their sound. Her ears were ringing off her head.
She pushed herself up on her elbows, finding her bearings when a guttural hiss sounded from right above her head. Braving a look up, she saw a cruelly handsome face stare down at her, half-lit by the corridor lights, half-shadowed by the bedroom’s dark depths.
She shot to her feet with a confidence she didn’t understand, brandishing her knife at the massive man moving directly to her. His long hair blew all around in a mystical wind. He didn’t glide in the way of vampires. By his mass and uncannily fluid movements, she understood him to be something more.
The front of his leather trench coat split open when he raised his hand toward her. “I am here for you.” Inside his thick belt, she saw several metal boxes among his weapons.
“D-Did you kill them?” She kept her blade up, for whatever good it would do.
“Do you want me to?” He inhaled sharply. “Have they hurt you?”
Meaning he may not hurt her. “No.” She tried to back up and her legs met a cabinet. “They’re my friends.”
