Chosen by Sin

by Virna DePaul

  The certainty that she belonged, too.

  But that, of course, was just another cruel lie.

  Jes didn’t belong. She’d found a purpose but she wasn’t indispensable. There would always be another to take her place. Someone willing to save the lives of others rather than live her own.

  Except she’d finally lived—for a few brief hours in Dex’s arms.

  And now she’d have to live without.

  Jes rose, then hesitated. She could make him forget their time together, but for some reason she didn’t want to. She told herself there was no need. If he’d suspected her duplicity, she had no doubt she’d already be dead

  Before she left, she kissed Dex’s lips and whispered goodbye.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Dex jerked awake to the shrill sound of his cell phone. He groaned as he tried to move, his limbs as heavy as bags of cement. His muscles, his skin—hell, even his hair—ached. Blinking the haze from his eyes, he took in his surroundings—a swank hotel room designed in minimalist chic. Despite his slowness to wake, he knew exactly where he was and who was supposed to be next to him, yet he was the sole occupant of the bed.

  He scanned every corner of the room and strained his ears—maybe she was in the bathroom—but his instincts told him he was alone.

  The vamp had wrung him dry then left.

  He tried to sort out how he felt about that, but his blasted cell phone continued to ring, making his temples throb.

  Growling, he rose, staggering slightly before his feet were steady beneath him. Shit, he felt hung over. Woozy. The same way he always felt whenever he let a vamp drink his blood during a night of frenzied sex. Granted, it hadn’t happened in several years, but it was a feeling he never forgot, just like he never forgot the euphoric spike of pleasure that threw him into full-out orgasm the moment a vamp’s fangs penetrated his skin. Even so, he didn’t remember Jes biting him last night. He checked, but felt no tenderness or puncture marks on his throat.

  Apparently, it didn’t matter. Sex with her had been more intense than any he’d ever experienced. Even now, just thinking about it, his growing hard-on was threatening to throw off his recently found equilibrium.

  With her, inside her, time itself had changed. It had raced on, filling him with a desperate fear that he’d never be able to get his fill of her. Simultaneously, the clock had stopped ticking, allowing him to savor each sensation and every caress until his body had vibrated with something he’d never felt before. He’d emptied himself into the condoms he’d worn, yet when he’d let slumber take him, he’d felt filled with what had always eluded him.

  Peace.

  Contentment.

  Happiness?

  But those feelings were distant memories now, taunting him with the proof of her absence. Mocking him for his weakness.

  Pull yourself together, Hunt. She was a fantastic lay. That’s all. Anything else you felt was just your imagination.

  He dug his ringing cell phone out of his jeans pocket and checked the time: 2 a.m.

  Still naked, he stepped into the bathroom. “Yeah. This is Hunt.”

  “Hunt,” FBI Director Kyle Mahone snapped. “Where the fuck are you?”

  “Where the hell do you think I am?” He saw the note taped to the bathroom mirror and ripped it off.

  You were even better than you looked. Jes.

  He frowned at the flippant words of praise. What had he been expecting? Her phone number and an invitation to call? He filled a glass with water, then took a long swallow. Mahone’s voice crackled out from the phone he still held in his other hand, reminding him that he hadn’t even questioned her about the shape-shifters the way he was supposed to.

  “Damn it, Dex. Did you hear what I—”

  He lowered the glass with a thud. “I’m still in Los Angeles with the team.”

  “You sure as shit aren’t with the rest of the team. If you were, you’d know there’s been an attempted murder on a shape-shifter. The culprit, another shape-shifter, got away. Lucy’s going to the hospital to talk to the victim.”

  “Which hospital?”

  “Los Angeles Memorial.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I—”

  But Mahone had already hung up. “Shit.” Once again, Dex reached out to turn on the faucet, this time to splash some cold water on his face, but a sound drifted toward him from the bedroom.

  He froze. Whoever it was hadn’t come in through the hotel room door because that was next to the bathroom and Dex would have seen him.

  Of course, Jesmina was a vampire with the ability to teleport. Maybe she’d forgotten something. Maybe she’d decided she hadn’t had enough of him. But he knew that wasn’t the case. She was long gone and now someone was out there while Dex was in the bathroom, buck-ass naked without a weapon.

  “Dex, my boy, aren’t you going to come out and say hello? Or are you shy now that the lady vampire’s gone?”

  Despite the months since he’d seen him, Dex immediately recognized the male voice as one belonging to a Feral gang member. At one time, the man’s brother had been Dex’s best friend. That had been before Dex had killed the man for crimes he’d committed at the were orphanage. “Rurik,” he called as he scanned the bathroom for a potential weapon. “What brings you to L.A.?”

  “Just seeing the sights with some of the other Ferals.” Rurik’s voice got louder as he approached the bathroom. “Imagine my surprise when what I spotted was you. And the vampire who met you at the door? Nice.”

  He didn’t bother asking how the were had gotten inside. A third floor balcony would be child’s play for Rurik. Dex’s gaze landed on a toothbrush, still wrapped in plastic, next to the sink. He snatched it up. “Sorry, but if you were hoping to join in, she’s already gone.”

  “Too bad. Could’ve been fun. But vamps were always your thing, not mine. Guess I’ll just have to settle for killing you.”

  He was right outside the door. Dex drawled, “Your brother was a pedophile who liked abusing little boys. He deserved exactly what he got.”

  Dex heard Rurik’s roar a split second before he barreled through the bathroom door. Dex grabbed the shower curtain, ripped it off the rod, and flung it toward the large werebeast lunging toward him. Rurik’s gun rattled to the floor but he kept coming, barreling into Dex and sending him stumbling back. The back of Dex’s knees hit the commode just as he pushed Rurik back into the bathtub. Instantly, he flipped the faucet nozzle so water streamed out of the showerhead, the water preventing Rurik from shifting into his wolf—and immortal—form.

  Rurik flailed at the clingy fabric. Just as he swiped a portion away from his face, Dex punched the hard plastic handle of the toothbrush into one of the were’s eye sockets. Rurik howled but Dex didn’t pause. He slammed Rurik’s head against the tub several times until he was unconscious.

  Swiftly, Dex patted Rurik down, but the were had nothing on him. Dex grabbed Rurik’s gun off the floor. It was loaded with tranquilizers, not bullets. So Rurik’s mission hadn’t been to kill Dex but kidnap him. Why? So he could torture him first?

  “Wake up,” Dex growled. He shook the were, then slapped his face several times. Rurik didn’t stir.

  Damn it, he wanted to question Rurik, make sure he hadn’t done anything to Jes, but he needed to get to the hospital, too. He scanned the room as if searching for an answer.

  From his position low to the ground, he saw the hairdryer under the sink that he’d failed to spot earlier. He grabbed the hairdryer and ripped the cord out of the appliance. He turned, intending to tie Rurik’s hands and ankles, but heavy fingers wrapped around his wrists and wrestled him for the cord. Caught off guard, he sprawled backwards, giving Rurik the chance to twist the cord around his neck. Dex barely managed to keep his fingers between the noose and his flesh.

  Abandoning the cord, Rurik wrapped his fingers around Dex’s throat, squeezing the air out of Dex’s lungs far too quickly.

  He grabbed Rurik’s thick wrists and tried to pull them away
, but the pressure didn’t lessen. From the corner of his eye, Dex saw the hairdryer he’d tossed aside. Gasping, he stretched out the fingers of one hand. The appliance was just out of his reach. Dots appeared in front of him and his vision began to dim.

  With a frantic lunge, he grabbed hold of the hairdryer’s handle and slammed it against Rurik’s temple. At the same time, he grabbed the dangling end of the cord, the one that still had the socket prongs attached, and punched the metal into Rurik’s other temple. With a vicious twist, he snapped the were’s neck.

  Rurik collapsed. When Dex rolled him off him, Rurik’s eyes were open and unseeing. Dex stared impassively at the gruesome sight. “When you get to hell, tell your brother I send my regards. I’ll see you both soon.” He turned to retrieve his phone just as it rang. . .

  ***

  Dex jerked awake to the shrill sound of his cell phone. He groaned as he tried to move. His muscles, his skin—hell, even his hair—ached. Blinking the haze from his eyes, he took in his surroundings and…

  Shit. He bolted up and the soft sheet covering him fell to his waist.

  He was in bed. Alone.

  The call from Mahone. Rurik’s assault. Even his night with Jesmina.

  It had all been a dream. Hadn’t it?

  But as he scanned the empty hotel room, the scent of her lingered in the air. On the sheets. On him. No, this was her room. He’d had her last night. But now she was gone and his phone was ringing. . .

  Ignoring his trembling legs, he lunged out of bed and grabbed his cell phone out of his jeans. “Mahone?”

  “Hunt,” Mahone snapped. “Where the fuck are you?”

  Dex’s mind spun, trying to process what was happening. He knew what Mahone was going to say next but how was that possible?

  “Where the hell do you think I am?” he asked slowly. He glanced toward the bathroom, but it was dark inside and he couldn’t see whether Jesmina’s note was taped on the mirror or not.

  “Damn it, Dex. Did you hear what I—”

  “A shape-shifter’s been attacked? And taken to Los Angeles Memorial?”

  Mahone’s stunned silence told him all he needed to know.

  “I’m on my way,” Dex snapped before pressing the disconnect button. Slowly, he stepped up to the bathroom doorway, reached in, and flipped on the light. The toothbrush was still there. So was the hairdryer. But there was no note taped to the mirror.

  And fuck if that wasn’t what pissed him off the most.

  ***

  When Rurik Pitts jerked awake, he was sweating, his chest heaving as he struggled to suck in air. His gaze frantically took in his surroundings and what appeared to be a spotless hotel room. Where was he?

  Memory returned. His meeting with the female vampire. His pocket full of cash. Meeting up with a fellow Feral, Antonio. Or at least, someone who’d looked like Antonio.

  But it hadn’t been Antonio. It had been a shape-shifter. A shape-shifter who’d brought him to a hotel room across from the one where Dex was staying and then introduced him to—

  Oh God. His lungs seized and his muscles strained with the effort to move. He tried to grip the sheets beneath him, but his fingers remained stubbornly stiff. He tried to shift his legs, to swing them off the bed so he could stand, to kick out—anything—but they refused to cooperate.

  A whimper broke the silence; to his horror, it had come from him.

  A faint chant, whispers on the air, drifted toward him. His eyes, the only part of him that seemed capable of moving, whipped his gaze around the room. Finally, he caught a glimpse of bright white skin, but that wasn’t what made him whimper again.

  He felt it. Something inside him. Something slithering not just through his mind but through his body. His heart constricted as if he was having a heart attack, but Rurik knew what it really was—the thing inside him was squeezing his heart. Letting him know it was there. And that it was pissed.

  I’ll help you, he thought frantically. I’ll try again. Just give me another chance.

  Another chance, a nasty voice echoed inside him.

  But before Rurik could feel even a moment of relief, the voice continued.

  One last chance to get me Dex Hunt.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A few hours later, Dex paced L.A. Memorial’s surgery floor. The hospital corridor was dark and deserted, with only faint sounds drifting from the nurse’s station down the hall. The wounded shape-shifter hadn’t been able to tell Lucy anything before he’d been wheeled into surgery and Dex had offered to wait at the hospital so Lucy could get some sleep.

  He wished he hadn’t.

  Being in the hospital reminded him of how helpless he’d felt just days earlier when Wraith had been admitted. They’d all thought she was dying, but she was fine, now, and driving O’Flare, the pretty-boy psychic human who’d stubbornly chased down a goddess in order to save the female he loved, absolutely insane. O’Flare had even left the Para-Ops team because he wanted to spend time with Wraith. Because he actually thought they were going to live happily ever after together.

  Poor SOB. He was trapped now, just like Knox. Tied to females that, despite the joy they might bring them now, would eventually leave them. Of course, O’Flare might not outlive Wraith, but as an immortal vampire, Knox would almost certainly outlive Felicia. The Goddess help Knox when that happened because Dex knew Knox would surely go insane.

  As it was, Knox had almost lost it after the Quorum put out a hit on Felicia, all because she’d married a vamp. To stop them from going after her again, he’d even started a rumor that he’d turned Felicia into a vampire. What surprised Dex the most was that Knox hadn’t rectified matters by turning Felicia into a vampire a long time ago. But Knox was controlled by his sense of honor; he wouldn’t turn Felicia against her will. And because turning a human meant risking a vampire’s own life, Felicia refused to give her consent.

  If it were Dex, he wouldn’t give Felicia the choice. But that was Knox’s weakness. His devotion to duty and honor. He hadn’t yet learned, despite almost three centuries on earth, that the only duty one carried was to oneself.

  Despite pitying his teammates, however, Dex could understand what was controlling both Knox and Caleb. Even those short moments in Jesmina’s arms had made him question what he’d believed his whole life—that survival hinged on detachment. Then reality had intruded. When his eyes had opened and he’d realized she was gone, he’d felt the sting of her absence—both times.

  Forget about Jes. It was one night, damn it. Forget about feeling sorry for Knox and O’Flare. What you should really be concerned about is that weird-ass dream you had.

  After all these years, why had he suddenly inserted Rurik Pitts into his head?

  Lingering guilt over having killed Rurik’s brother? No, Dex felt no guilt for that. He’d been involved with the abuse at the were orphanage. The only thing Dex regretted was killing him too quickly when he could have made the pain drag out.

  Had his conflicted emotions about Jes sought release through a good ol’ violence dream? A challenge to defeat Rurik in battle since he couldn’t seem to defeat his desire for Jes? But why had the dream echoed some of the reality that had come after it, like Mahone’s call, while other parts of the dream hadn’t? Why hadn’t Jes left him a damn note—

  “What’s going on in that head of yours, Hunt?”

  Dex jerked slightly at the unexpected male voice. Knox Devereaux, royal vamp and Para-Ops team leader, stepped into his line of vision.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” But despite his harsh words, Dex couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He hadn’t seen Knox for some time and while he hadn’t exactly missed the dude—

  “You’re troubled. Why? Something the shape-shifter told you?”

  “He hasn’t told me anything. He’s still in surgery. Did Mahone fill you in on what’s happening?”

  “Yes. I know you’ll be leaving for France soon.”

  Marriage didn’t seem to be doing much for Knox’s wel
l being. In fact, he looked like shit, nothing like the happy vamp he’d been on his wedding day. He looked desperate, worried sick that the Quorum would make another attempt on Felicia’s life. “So why are you here?”

  “Because I need something from you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A promise.”

  There were all kinds of smart-ass things Dex could have said, but Knox looked serious and Dex suddenly knew what promise Knox wanted. The question was, what would Dex’s answer be?

  “A promise,” Knox continued, “that if anything happens to me, you’ll watch out for Felicia. You’ll make sure she’s safe and taken care of. My parents and children, they’ll be fine, but Felicia . . .”

  “You blipped yourself all the way down here for that? Are you planning something I don’t know about?”

  “No, but things will have to come to a head. The Quorum has slowly been getting bolder. Hell, they hired my own brother to kill Felicia.”

  Not only that, but the league of powerful humans bent on Otherborn destruction had infiltrated the White House to see Felicia killed. “They think she’s a vamp now.”

  “But she’s not. She’s human and very vulnerable and she still refuses to let me turn her.”

  “Because she knows you’d be risking your own life to change her,” Dex pointed out. “She’ll never let that happen.”

  Knox raked his hands through his hair and cursed. “I’m not going to let anything endanger her. You’ve proven you’re committed to protecting Lucy. And I know how much you like Felicia. So just promise me, okay?”

  Dex rubbed the back of his neck, torn between Knox’s faith in him and practicality. “You’re placing a lot of stock in me, Knox. More than you should. You know I have my own agenda. Mahone has promised to look the other way when I go after the werewolf leader, but who knows how it’ll go down.”

  “You’re still bound and determined to kill your grandfather?”

  “Of course.”

  “Of course?” Knox laughed and shook his head. “It’s that much of a no-brainer for you? Hell, Dex, you’ve got a good life now. Don’t you think you should forget about the past? Move on?”