Deadly Alpha

by Brenda Sparks

  She grabbed two forty-fives, shoving one into the waistband of her leather pants and cocking the other before palming it.

  Marcus’ knees went weak when another wave of pain from Christina hit him hard. His hand snapped out and grabbed the side of the SUV to steady himself.

  Breathe through it, Christina. It will be over soon.

  Steeling himself against the pain, he turned to his fellow warriors, met their eyes with a determined stare and said, “Let’s go get that bastard!”

  Chapter 29

  Christina lay curled in a fetal position. Every cell in her body felt like it was being drained of its moisture from the heat consuming her. When the virus caused her hormone levels to soar, her synapses all fired at once. Adrenaline and serotonin blanketed her body. Everything, right down to her kidneys and toes, hurt. Her muscles burned as if a blowtorch seared all of them at once with its white-hot flame. Her limbs contorted from the pain, sending her body spasming off the bed onto the concrete floor below. With a loud thud, the back of her head slammed into the hard floor when she arched from another spasm of pain.

  She actually felt her bones grow denser to support her thickening muscles. It seemed like every bone in her body broke at the same time to accommodate the need for growth. She wept so hard, tears no longer fell, and her dry sobs added to the jerking of her body.

  Her heart nearly beat out of her chest as it enlarged, pounding hard against her sternum. Her lungs grew at the same time, making it difficult to breathe as the two organs pushed against one another, fighting for room within her tiny rib cage. As if an elephant sat on her chest, Christina struggled to get the oxygen her growing muscles so desperately needed. She believed she’d die, gasping for air until, at last, her stomach shrank, allowing her heart and lungs room within her chest cavity. Finally able to take a breath, she gulped the sweet air that brought her a moment of comfort before the next spasm hit.

  Her body curled in on itself, pulling her into a tight ball. Bile rose as her stomach pushed out its contents, no longer having room for the meal she’d eaten earlier. Wave after wave of pain continued to beat at her, twisting and contorting her body, the concrete floor rough against her overly sensitive skin. She could take no more and wished the pain away. She wished for respite.

  For death.

  ****

  Marcus led the group down the side of the compound, their line pressed firmly against the wall. The building contained no windows, so they walked upright, not worrying about being seen. They trod lightly with their backs to the rough cinderblock. A scent drifted to him on the wind, and Marcus’ nostrils flared.

  Michael!

  The mated warrior held up a silent fist, indicating the group needed to stop and hold their positions. Marcus crouched down, easing forward like a mountain lion stalking its prey. He peered around the corner and watched Michael leave a small shack, locking the door behind him.

  “I’d better go check on Christina’s progress,” he muttered just loud enough for Marcus’ sensitive hearing to catch. The Alpha watched Michael wipe blood from his hands and make his way into the larger of the two buildings.

  Marcus rejoined the others and in a hushed voice explained, “There is a small building in back. I just saw Michael leave and lock the door, wiping blood off his hands.”

  “Do you believe Christina is being held in there?” whispered Vlad.

  “No, he said he was going to check on her and went into the main building. I think we need to split up.”

  Demetri nodded. “Vlad, Nicholai, you two go into the shack and see what you can find,” the warrior said, taking charge. “Marcus, Tatiana, and I will take the main building.”

  The group nodded in agreement as a cool wind whipped over them, bringing the smells of the marsh with it. Death and decay surrounded them like a bad omen of things to come.

  ****

  Vlad and Nicholai moved first. In perfect synchronicity that came from decades of fighting together, they made their way toward the shack. When they reached the front of the building, Nicholai felt it first, the ground made a subtle shift under his feet. Vladimir’s eyes met those of his fellow Alpha when the realization registered on his face.

  In the time it took for the two of them to look down, the ground gave way, sending them plunging down a metal tunnel. They clawed at the tunnel walls looking for purchase, but the smooth surface provided none. They slid quickly, Nicholai in the lead, until at last they went through a metal door that swung shut behind them.

  The tingling under his skin told Nicholai exactly what type of cage held them. Not much could hold a vampire, but titanium could. The metal, because of its special properties, would not allow atoms to pass through, could keep them from dematerializing. In fact, the vampires were so sensitive to the metal that it would burn their skin if they touched it. And of course, the cube they had dropped into was made from titanium, a perfect trap.

  Nicholai glanced around for a way out and discovered they were sealed up tight. The hinged door through which they fell appeared to be the only opening.

  “Where are we?” Nicholai examined the pitch-dark cage with his preternatural vision.

  “It would appear we are in a titanium square.” Vladimir turned, looking at their jail. With no seams, other than those around the trap door they fell through, it appeared to be one solid box.

  “Nicholai, I think our only hope is getting out the way we came in.”

  “I agree, get on my shoulders. I’ll lift you up.”

  Vlad balanced his feet on Nicholai’s shoulders, and Nicholai’s hands clasped his friend’s calves. When the Siberian warrior pushed on the opening, Nicholai’s nose instantly registered the smell of burnt flesh from the titanium touching his hands. It didn’t move. Apparently this was a one way roaches-check-in-but-they-don’t-check-out kind of door.

  “It won’t budge,” Vladimir grunted. He shifted his weight, bearing down on Nicholai’s left shoulder.

  Nicholai adjusted his stance to keep them balanced. “How bad did you get burned?”

  “It’s nothing,” said Vlad as he tore the sleeves from his shirt and tried again, this time putting the cloth between his flesh and the titanium. He pushed several times, but even his thick muscles could not budge the door. His feet pushed from Nicholai’s shoulders, and he landed on the balls of his feet.

  Vlad examined his hands. “We’re trapped.”

  Nicholai’s gaze dropped to his friend’s hands. “You’re hurt.”

  “It will heal, but there is no doubt this place is made of titanium.”

  “Vlad?…Nicholai?” a deep baritone voice bellowed from above.

  “We’re down here, cousin.”

  “Are you okay?” Tatiana’s voice called down. Nicholai could see the tiniest amount of light pushing through the cracks where the trap door met the rest of the enclosure, as if a flashlight shone down the shaft.

  Like a caged tiger, Vladimir paced the metal container. “Yes, but this box is made of titanium. We can’t dematerialize out of here.”

  “We’ll need a rope,” Tatiana called down. “If Demetri can lower me down, I’ll open the door and then we can pull you and Vlad out.”

  “Not a bad idea,” agreed Demetri. “There might be some rope in the SUV. I’ll go check. Hold on. We’ll be right back.”

  Nicholai thought he heard Tatiana mumble “Where’s Marcus?” as her voice trailed off.

  Chapter 30

  Marcus watched Demetri and Tatiana go to examine the hole through which the Alphas had dropped. The sound of a heavy door sliding drew his attention. He quickly glanced around the corner of the building and saw a door closing. Using his preternatural speed, he caught the door with two fingers before it closed.

  He carefully pulled the heavy door wide and sent a silent prayer up to the heavens that the hinges didn’t squeak, though why they didn’t for such a heavy door was anyone’s guess. The Alpha prowled on silent feet, making his way down the long hall, his way lit by the harsh fluores
cent lights that dangled from the ceiling. Marcus spied Michael walking away from him at the other end of the hall, oblivious to the danger stalking behind him.

  Marcus saw red. Anger infused every cell, flooding his mind with rage. His teeth gnashed together, jaw clenched with his hatred for the male. Michael had not only kidnapped Christina, but treated her and Kat harshly, bringing both women great pain. He swore a silent vow of vengeance.

  The sound of a soft click behind him signaled the door sliding closed. It pushed a waft of air down the hall and carried Marcus’ scent to Michael. The Alpha flinched at the rookie mistake. He knew better. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d purposely kept upwind of his prey to avoid detection. But he’d allowed his heartmate and his determination to make her captor pay, to distract him.

  Her pain was his own. Her emotions flooded his mind, keeping him unfocused and edgy. Coupled with his unmitigated desire to excoriate Michael’s flesh, they filled in his mind, pushing his training out. He'd made some stupid mistakes—mistakes that could get him killed.

  Michael stiffened his shoulders slightly, but the vampire kept walking and ducked into a door on his left. Marcus unsheathed his sword, sure Michael had detected his presence. As Marcus approached the door through which Michael disappeared, the door flew open. Marcus leapt backwards to avoid being hit.

  Michael emerged with a samurai sword clutched tightly in both hands. The lights from above reflected in the blade. Marcus barely had time to register the glint on the steel before Michael swung the first blow, sending Marcus crashing back against the wall.

  ****

  Christina slowly straightened her arms as the latest pain receded. The bursts were shorter and less intense now. The waves of searing pain gave her enough respite between them to realize the conversion must be ending. A clash of steel, of two enemies locked in mortal combat, grabbed her attention, and she swung her head toward the noise.

  Her eyes locked on Marcus. A mountain of rippling muscle, he battled Michael with a fierce grace. The warriors grunted with their efforts as the opponents moved back and forth in front of the chamber doorway. Christina heard a distinct whistling sound as one of the swords crashed into the doorframe, sending wood splintering to the floor.

  This was a two-handed sword fight. No points for finesse. Brute strength. Males growling. Flexing muscles that wielded the weapons with the perfection achieved by centuries of training.

  Marcus backed through the door, and Michael advanced with his sword by his head ready to deliver a finishing blow. Michael swung, putting his full strength behind the blow. Marcus blocked the swing, the shock vibrating down Michael’s body.

  The combat became a flurry of blurred movement and clash of metal meeting metal. Christina’s pulse increased when anxiety mixed with fear. She no longer gave her pain a thought, her sole concentration on Marcus and his battle. He must win. Must survive.

  Marcus rounded with a swipe of his sword that left a red line across Michael’s stomach. The red stain spread across his shirt, but the wound was not fatal. Michael staggered back into the wall, one arm holding his stomach. Marcus attacked, blade raised above his head, but the warrior moved a moment too late.

  The evil vampire sprang into a somersault and landed free from the path of his adversary’s sword. He sprang up into a fighting stance.

  Christina lay motionless on the floor while she watched the vampires fight their way across the room, exchanging blows. The conversion exhausted her body, making her limbs heavy as stone. Above Christina their blades clashed in a sweeping blow toward the floor. Survival instinct rolled her out of the way when the swords swung in a scything arc. Christina smacked into the corner of the bed, hitting the tender part of her elbow on the metal frame. She frantically crawled away, sheer will enabling her leaden body to move in search of safety.

  Marcus wheeled around, bringing the whole weight of his motion into the stroke. Michael countered by arching back out of reach. The sword narrowly missed his neck. Michael turned and drove back in with a blow of his own. The tip of his blade sliced through the tendons of Marcus’ right arm, causing it to hang limply from his body. As if renewed by the small victory, Michael thundered a rain of blows. Christina’s stomach knotted with concern, and she suppressed a scream, for her love didn’t need the distraction.

  Marcus staggered back under the onslaught, deflecting as best he could with his one-handed grip until Michael brought his sword down on Marcus’ good wrist. The pained look on Marcus’ face suggested the agony of the blow arced to his brain, vibrating along every nerve.

  The sword dropped to the floor as Marcus fell to his knees with a violent curse. Michael circled Marcus, taunting the Alpha. A smug smile of triumph lit his eyes.

  Chapter 31

  Michael twirled his sword spitefully, playing with his prey. Obviously believing victory was his to take, he seemed in no hurry to make the killing blow, apparently unaware of the warrior lying in wait at the door.

  Demetri crouched down, dagger in hand, waiting for the moment to strike. “Stay back,” Demetri hissed at Tatiana as she came running up. “I’ve got this.”

  Tatiana gave him a look of contempt when she approached the doorway, her stealthy movements cat-like.

  “Where are Vlad and Nicholai?” he hissed to the female.

  “There are women in the shack,” the VES agent informed him. “Nicholai and Vlad stayed behind to help them.”

  “You should have stayed with the women. An Alpha should have come to back me up.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Shut up and watch for an opening.”

  Tatiana drew her gun from its holster, sliding the safety off before cradling it between her delicate hands.

  Demetri growled a low rumble of disapproval. He did not need a female backing him up. She’d probably get him killed.

  His eyes returned to the room to discover that the opportunity Demetri waited for presented itself at last. With Marcus on his knees, Demetri finally had a clear shot at Michael.

  “Closer,” the female beside him muttered.

  Demetri didn’t spare her a glance or a moment’s thought, totally focused on his target. He reared his dagger back and let it fly, aimed at Michael’s heart. A wisp of black smoke drew his gaze, and he turned to discover Tatiana gone. She’d dematerialized.

  As Demetri’s dagger flew silently toward its mark, Tatiana materialized in front of Michael, gun in hand.

  The danger of the moment gave a still calm that seemed to slow time itself. Demetri watched in horror. Tatiana raised her weapon toward Michael, unaware of the dagger careening toward her back. Her breath failed when it struck the base of her neck. She arched forward and dropped face first to the floor, the knife buried to the hilt in her spine by the force of his throw.

  Demetri rushed to her and pulled the dagger from her flesh. A fraction higher and it would have pierced her skull. Blood poured from the wound and welled around the fingers he used to attempt to stay the bleeding. She would recover, but the dagger had been made of titanium. Healing would be slow. He faced an impossible choice, get the female to safety or attempt to save his fallen comrade.

  Demetri glanced up at Michael, who stood motionless, watching the scene before him in disbelief. The shocked look on the vampire’s face indicated he’d not realized other warriors might be in the building. It wasn’t much, but Michael’s stunned surprise might be used to Marcus’ advantage. Demetri tossed Tatiana’s gun to the Alpha and hoped that with the pause in the action, Marcus might have healed just enough to use it.

  With the life of a natural-born female at stake, Demetri knew duty to the vampire race dictated he must save Tatiana. The burly Alpha pulled the agent’s body toward the door, putting space between them and the rogue vampire.

  Demetri gathered her in his lap and scored his wrist with his fangs. “Drink, Tatiana, my blood is ancient. It will speed your healing.”

  ****

  Without hesitation, Tatiana gratefully took what he offered.
Her nails dug into his arm as she held his wrist to her lips and gulped down the life-giving elixir. His blood fed her cells, and her wound began to knit close. It strengthened her, warmed her, sent a rush through her body that made her feel…wanton?

  Mine! The thought brushed her mind as Michael bared his fangs and hissed.

  He advanced on the couple with slow, purposeful strides, taking his time as if to savor his moment of victory. His sword poised to take Demetri’s head. His eyes gleamed with hatred as he stalked toward the pair.

  To seal the small wounds her fangs made, Tatiana flicked her tongue against Demetri’s skin. Her hand flew to her thigh holster but found the damned thing empty. After quick search, her gaze located the gun near Marcus.

  Demetri peered up. Obviously reading the intent in Michael’s advance, he reached in his holster for the other dagger. As he pulled the blade from its sheath, Tatiana noticed something glistening in front of Michael’s heart. It created a bull’s-eye for the knife. She blinked, and it disappeared as fast as it had appeared.

  Michael dropped to his knees, then fell forward. His face hit the floor with a smack. A pool of red formed under his body. Tatiana’s gaze rose from Michael’s body to Christina. The newly converted vamp stood swaying, holding Marcus’ sword in both hands as the red dripped from the blade.

  Now there’s an example of Woman Power. A smile came to Tatiana’s lips.

  ****

  Marcus watched the air huff from Christina’s lungs from her effort. The sword she held crashed to the concrete floor with a loud clang. Apparently too weak from the conversion to support her any longer, her legs folded beneath her. She crawled through a stream of blood to Marcus, who sat on the floor, his back braced against the wall.

  “Marcus,” she cried, her eyes wide with panic as she examined his wounds.

  “It will be okay. The cuts are deep, but they will heal. All I need is a little rest and some blood.”

  Christina swept her red mane to one side. “Drink.”