Masters of the Hunt: Fated and Forbidden

by Sarra Cannon

  “According to our fearless leader,” Jame paused to smirk at Talon, then rose to stand in front of the board like a teacher schooling an unruly class, “the lone eyewitness claims these perps are like nothing we’ve got on file. How did you say she put it, boss? Bulging eyes, wide jaws, and razor sharp teeth? Oh my.”

  A snort escaped Slick’s lips. Talon silenced it by clearing his throat. “That’s right,” he said, stopping midstride and allowing the full weight of his glare to fall on his team. “So our killers might be unclassified as well as unknown.”

  “Come on. You can’t be serious.” A loud thud filled the room as Jame’s fist made contact with the nearest wall.

  Slick raised his eyebrows at her and shrugged. “We’ve dealt with unregistered suspects before. Plenty of supernatural groups out there—”

  Talon interrupted as a detail came to him. “Sera mentioned something about the perps not coming out until the sun went down. Could be newbie vamps.”

  “Could be. Though, I remember a report about this other group, similar to vamps in a lot of ways—strong, sensitive to sunlight for the first fifty years or so, regenerative properties.” Slick rubbed his chin. “Call themselves, phage. Maybe they’re some type of offshoot or mutation of vamps, except the report said they need raw meat to survive instead of blood.”

  “Raw meat?” Jame wriggled her nose. “Nasty.”

  “True. But then sucking blood ain’t exactly a pretty picture either.” Slick waved it off with a flick of his wrist. “Then again with the blood draining and bite marks, my money’s on vamps for this.”

  A boom as loud as a gunshot bounced off the office’s walls. Drake entered with Bull at his side, slamming the door behind him. The vampire’s light blonde hair stood up in short spikes. Intense black eyes bore into Slick without a trace of amusement. His leather trench coat flew behind him when he closed the distance and stood mere inches away. His English accent thickened more than usual as he said, “Always suspecting vampires. You never learn half-breed.”

  Slick didn’t budge an inch. “Half human, half shifter is the best of both worlds. Anything but a bloodsucker.” Inclining his head to the side, he looked behind Drake and smiled. “No offense, Bull.”

  “None taken there.” The air became thick with the tension and two extra bodies occupying the room. Bull’s colossal frame at almost seven feet tall, and twenty pounds shy of three hundred, took up half the space alone.

  Talon pinched the bridge of his nose, an all too familiar gesture these days. “That’s enough! We don’t have time for this shit.” Slapping Drake on the chest, he separated the two alpha males before blood could spill. “Besides there isn’t enough room in here for a brawl. So keep your shit together.”

  Drake’s eyes narrowed, cutting to Talon’s direction. “Keep your little reptile on a leash, then.”

  He growled at the vamp, then wheeled away before another fight broke out. “Slick, go touch base with our psyke tech gal. Ask Meg to use her mind mojo if she has to. Just be sure she gets all the intel on the phage and any vamps with a record.” His thoughts darkened as he motioned toward the door. “And have her pull up information on Ser...Ms. Benenati.”

  Slick and Drake continued the staring routine as if they would bite each other’s heads off. Already Slick buzzed, on the edge of shifting. Talon refused to indulge the stupidity. “Slick, out the door, now!”

  Jame shadowed Slick’s steps, careful to ensure a secure distance remained between the edgy half-shifter and vamp. When Slick exited safely to the hallway, she shut the door behind him and glared at Drake. “Why’d you have to bait him like that?”

  With a smirk, Drake let his gaze wander from the closed door to Jame, ignoring the question. “Now that the children have gone to bed, let’s get down to the real meeting shall we?” Taking up residence in Slick’s former spot atop the desk, he reclined, lounging as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  Clucking his teeth, Bull rested his back against the wall. His gray t-shirt strained against his massive chest. Whitewashed jeans covered his thick legs. A wide leather belt with a brass buckle encircled his waist. The light stubble across his chin matched in length with his buzzed black hair. “Didn’t ya never hear a restraint? You got over a hundred years on the boy.”

  “Then the boy should know his place and keep his mouth shut.”

  “Drake, I don’t have time to indulge your holier-than-thou attitude,” Talon said, cutting off argument. “What did you learn?”

  “Well, let’s see now, chief.” Flicking his wrist over dramatically, Drake tapped his watch. “It’s almost six o’clock. Perfect. Time for the news.” Hopping off the desk, he pushed between the agents to the old TV in the corner. As the set came to life, the picture fuzzed briefly then showed a young redheaded news anchor. “Watch and see.”

  “This is Rebecca Lockwood reporting from Buckhorn, Arizona. Our sources reveal a murder spree took place here just last night.” The wind whipped the reporter’s bright cherry locks across her cheeks. She pushed them aside while trying to keep her face composed. “Twenty-two people lost their lives in the face of this heinous crime. Yet channel nine has learned one brave woman survived. A Serafina Benenati from Phoenix.” Sera’s picture flashed across the screen, before returning to the reporter.

  “Details of the crime have narrowed down the criminals as being from the SUB population. Outcries followed, accusing the unregistered SUB community of the murders. With the quest for citizenship status being sought by one of these unregistered groups called phage, this bad press could hinder those chances.”

  The microphone screeched as the reporter waited for the feed. “Ms. Adriana Farrington, the advocate for phage rights, has already publicly denounced the crime and assured the N.U.A. government the phage people were not involved.” A picture of a tall blonde in a pristine black suit appeared on the screen. Her bright green eyes screamed for justice even in the still image. A voiceover of the reporter continued, “Ms. Farrington accused the vigilante group, known as Veritas, of the murders, but police refuse to acknowledge the allegation.”

  “We’re doing everything we can to find the suspects.” A Buckhorn police officer appeared on the screen, speaking at a podium in front of a swarm of reporters. “We cannot comment further at this time.”

  The broadcast returned to the reporter. “Information has surfaced that the Buckhorn sheriff’s office has called on the help of the Phoenix police as well as federal agents from the Paranormal Crime Division.” Quick cuts flashed images of the crime scene crawling with cops, DO NOT CROSS yellow tape, and the Phoenix police badge next to the PCD logo. “It’s clear this small town has been rattled by this vicious attack. As the investigation continues, channel nine news will bring you the latest on this story.”

  Drake clicked the TV off and whirled around to the team. A wide smile stretched across his flawless face. Intense black eyes held a hint of a sparkle behind them. “So, how’s that for undercover work?”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Jame flew at him from across the room, getting up in his face. “You didn’t do anything.”

  “Growl for me, Kitkat. You know I love it when you growl.”

  “Growl?” She snarled through a tight jaw. “I’ll claw your fucking eyes out!”

  The TV crashing into the far wall had the team acting as if in slow-mo. Jame, Drake and Bull all turned as one to the corner of the room where Talon stood, a broken piece of the screen in hand. A red haze coated his vision. His nails extended and curved into claws, breaking the skin on his palms. Blood seeped from his clenched fists. His knuckles blanched bone white.

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass about your hang-ups.” He spat the last word. “Get your goddamn acts in line, now! Or I’ll can all your asses.”

  Bull crossed the small room in two strides. “Easy, boss. Easy.” Carefully, he took the broken TV part from Talon’s grip. “Don’t wanna go shifting like some newbie, right?” Baring his fangs, he rounded on Drake and
Jame. They stood frozen in place, their mouths locked in circles. “Close them traps before ya catch flies and simmer down.”

  Talon eased back from the edge. His nails retracted and the half circle wounds began to heal. Holy hell, I’m like a damn rookie. He hadn’t been this bad in years. Not since that day in court when the jury passed the sentence on his father’s crime.

  Agent Steven Bram, his new legal guardian, stood beside him that day in court. The man’s cold hard eyes bore into Talon’s face. “Remember this, Talon. Remember this day. And understand what can happen to a man who loses his honor.” Bram patted him on the back, a firm but gentle tap. “Duty before everything. The academy will teach you that. One day you’ll be a great agent for the PCD. I know it.”

  “I won’t forget,” Talon said, holding back the tears that threatened to surface. He’d stuff down every last shred of emotion. Never again would he let fear rule him. He would stay on the right path. Sever his feelings. Cut ties from anyone he could hurt. He wouldn’t love anyone, ever. All it caused was pain. When he looked in the mirror, he would not see his father’s reflection. “Duty first and only. Always.”

  “Always,” he mumbled to himself. When he felt the buzz electrifying his body dull to a low hum, he spoke again. “Sorry, but this is getting old fast, guys.” He used the wall for support and crossed his arms over his chest. “The case just blew up in our faces with this idiot reporter revealing the identity of our witness. Not to mention the bullshit political nightmare.”

  “Looks like time for some damage control,” Jame said, shoving an elbow into Drake’s stomach as she walked to the bulletin board. “Let’s start with Ms. Redhead.”

  “Glad to see you’re on the ball again.” Talon nodded, a half smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “First, you and Bull can go see about this reporter’s source. If the local cops are running their traps, I want a lid put on it. I’m sure they’re not happy with us trampling in their turf. Make certain the press coverage is kept to a minimum.”

  “Sure boss. We’ll cover ya.” Bull’s slap on the back sent vibrations through Talon’s chest cavity.

  “Thanks Bull. Know I can count on you to handle it.” He rubbed the spot above his heart, trying not to wince. “Drake and I will go to the hospital and keep an eye on Ser...the witness.”

  Drake cocked his hip to the side, using the desk like a leaning post. “Which do you want to do, chief? Keep an eye on the girl or go to the hospital?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Well, I know you’re revved up on the sweet blonde.” He thumbed a finger at Bull. “But having a vampire and a shifter in her hospital bed might be pushing it, no?”

  The urge to shift into something, anything—an arctic wolf, perhaps—ran through Talon. The need caused his muscles to spasm. With his throat raw from the desire, he barely managed his next words. “No vampire is going near her.” Not that he had any problems with vamps, that was Slick’s issue, but this particular asshat knew how to get under his skin. “We’re going to the hospital to guard the witness and talk with her again.”

  “If you want to get it on with the girl, the hospital is the wrong place.” Drake scrunched his nose like he’d smelt something foul. “Too many sick people. And the medical fumes. Ack.”

  “Cut the shit and spell it out.”

  “Oh, sorry. Forgot I needed to simplify. The girl—your witness—is not at the hospital.” He flipped a hand over his short hair, the yellow spikes snapping back into place. “She signed her discharge papers about an hour ago, stopped at her apartment for ten minutes, then headed downtown.”

  “What? How do you know this?” His pulse began to beat faster.

  “You sent me to find information. I found information. I’ll expect my fee wired to my account by midnight.”

  A dangerous buzz lit the air. On the wall, the bulletin board shook as Jame’s teeth elongated into points. Her eyes glowed yellow. Black hair sprang from her arms. “You wait all this time to tell us? All. This. Time?”

  The ever stoic Bull rushed over to Jame, clearing his path of both the desk and Drake with one shove. “Slow big breaths for me. Changin’ ain’t gonna help.”

  “Bull’s right. Get it under control.” Talon lanced her with a hard stare, waiting for her to pull back the energy. Second by crucial second, time they no longer had, Jame’s appearance returned to normal.

  “Jame, Jame, what a name.” Drake’s gaze ate her up. “So damn sexy.”

  “Don’t start.” Nose-to-nose in an instant, Talon peered into Drake’s black eyes. The vampire’s stare morphed from heated to pissed.

  “Get out of my face or you’ll regret it.”

  “Bull, Jame, go and handle the press issue. Find out what the reporter knows and where it came from.” He waved a hand at them without taking his eyes from the vamp. “Drake and I are going to find Sera.” He paused for a heartbeat, realizing he used her first name, but at the moment, he didn’t care. “I have a suspicion our friend here knows exactly where she is.”

  Pulling back, Drake offered a wicked smile. “I might for the right price.”

  No one moved or even breathed.

  “Bull, Jame, now!”

  They headed toward the door. Jame lingered at the exit, but Bull ushered her into the hall. “Let ‘em handle it.”

  Left alone in the room, Talon unleashed the shifter vibe, letting the vamp feel the energy.

  “You waste time with empty threats. I’m your link to the underground scene and you’re my cash cow, so let’s leave egos outside, shall we?”

  Talon cut the buzzing tide, shocked by Drake’s sudden change. “Ah.” It dawned on him. “No Jame. No reason to play games. Gotcha.”

  “And now I remember why I put up with you—besides the money.” Drake smiled, walked to the door, and grabbed the knob. Pulling it practically from its hinges, he swiped a hand to the hall. “After you.”

  He raised an eyebrow in question.

  “You want to find the girl, don’t you? Let’s make it the normal rate, plus a hundred extra if we find her intact. No bonus for dead. Sound fair?”

  “Dead?” Acid rose from his stomach, clogging his windpipe.

  “I can’t make promises as to her condition. I know she took off from her apartment and her picture’s been splashed across the evening news.” Drake’s grip on the door tightened. “Needless to say, she’ll be a hot commodity.”

  The vile blockage refused to dissipate, but Talon managed to speak past it. “Who besides the killers would be after her?”

  A frown formed on Drake’s lips. His words slipped into a tone and air not heard in over a hundred years. “I amuse myself with your operation here, your PCD. I do it for the money. I do it to pass the infinite dullness of time.” He patted Talon’s shoulder.

  “You don’t do it for either of those reasons, and we both know it.” Talon narrowed his eyes, daring Drake to reveal a past the vamp kept so well hidden, secrets that lay in shadow.

  “Yes, well despite appearances, I respect the PCD and you.” His frown faded into a smirk, cheek hollowing. Laughing, he fell back into modern speech. “Please don’t make me lose that by acting like such a naive dumbass.”

  “Your honesty’s touching.” He pushed Drake’s hand away. “Now, you want to clue me in.”

  Drake shrugged. “Where would be the fun in that?” Bolting down the hall, he threw over his shoulder, “Come and see for yourself.”

  Talon gritted his teeth. His leather-soled boots clomped after the vamp and into a mess he knew he’d find waiting out there somewhere. He just prayed Sera wasn’t at the center of it.

  Chapter 5

  ST. JAMES HOSPITAL, PHOENIX, ARIZONA

  Sera leapt from the bed like a rabbit sprung from a trap. If she didn’t get cracking on this story soon, she’d burst. Already too many hours spent in the hospital could turn her lead cold. She had to act fast to get an exclusive. “Finally,” she cried, signing her discharge papers. “I
thought you’d never let me out of here.”

  Laughing, Dr. Cordone handed her a plastic bag filled with her belongings. “I told you we’d let you go soon.”

  “Yeah, well, never trust doctors and lawyers, right?” She plucked the bag from his arms and dug through it for her clothes. She frowned at the dirty suit she’d worn in Buckhorn. The tan jacket and skirt reminded her too much of the creatures that attacked her—the ones Agent Rede said killed twenty-two people.

  “Talon,” she murmured, remembering how she’d finally met the special agent. He’d haunted her thoughts, yet he was so much more than she’d fantasized. His dark hair framed a warrior’s face. Small lines creased around his bright blue eyes, yet they added to his magnetic appeal. She shuddered at the memory of his firm body apparent under t-shirt and jeans. Her blood transformed to lava. Squirming, her gaze flitted to the side table where his business card rested...against an envelope?

  “Do you want me to call anyone, Ms. Benenati?” Dr. Cordone patted her arm and ran a sympathetic eye over her clothes. “Or maybe find you something else to wear?”

  The envelope drew all her thoughts so she barely heard what the doctor said. A rich black ink sprawled across the white surface and bore her full first name. Serafina. It hadn’t been there before.

  When the doctor’s questions went too long unanswered, he coughed. “Ms. Benenati?”

  “Oh. I’m fine, doc. Thanks.” She waved at him. “I’ll put this on. Anything’s better than the itchy hospital gown.”

  “You sure?” He flicked his head toward the door. “I could get you some scrubs.”

  “Well...” She ran her hands over the dirt patches on her suit. “Maybe that’s a better idea.”

  He smiled and said, “I think so. Be right back.”

  Waiting until he closed the door behind him, she reached for the envelope and ripped open the seal. A single sheet of paper rested inside. She unfolded it and took a breath.