by K. F. Breene
Stefan gave him a brief nod as Dominicous placed his hand on Stefan’s shoulder. Feeling the slight pressure, he allowed Dominicous to turn him toward the door and walk him out into the hall. Once there, they stood for a silent beat as the door gently swung shut.
“That went as I expected,” Dominicous said into the silence. “Unfortunately.”
He took his hand away from Stefan’s shoulder. “I have much work to do. I—” He cut off as his gaze lingered on something down the hall. His lips spread into a smile.
Stefan turned to follow his gaze. Three men stumbled through the corridor looking like they’d gotten sand-blasted with razors. Eyes half-closed, not able to walk in a straight line, they winced with every step.
That’s my girl.
“Toa looked like that once,” Dominicous grinned. “It made him slightly more… careful.”
His eyes regained their edge. “As I was saying. There is an undercurrent to Kallias’ words that strike me as… desperate. Something is seething within the power plays in this Council. He’ll speak to me more openly without you present. Plus…” Dominicous shrugged. “You might as well get to those challenges. I was in your position—nearly exactly your position—at one time. Brutality is the fastest way to end the advances. Hard, fast brutality.”
Stefan took a step away, a shot of adrenaline pulsing through his body. “Agreed.”
“Oh, and… Toa thought I should say this to you.”
Stefan listened quietly as Dominicous explained about covering the blood link, giving himself privacy. He had to do everything in his power not to dig his hands in his pockets like a sullen child. Dominicous saw it and smiled.
“I wouldn’t worry about her figuring it out before you did.” Dominicous stepped toward the door. “Toa says she pulls a great many things out of her ass in dire circumstances. You may have lost your family young, but you had some loyal friends helping you succeed, not to mention other members of the clan. She only had a houseful of disinterested guardians, merely doing their part to keep her off the streets. She feels that is a blessing, and it is I suppose, but it creates a certain person. Pressure and time can create something beautiful, or it can create something cruel. We are lucky she turned into the former.”
Stefan snorted, turning toward the hall. “Dominicous the poet.”
“I have many facets. And Stefan…”
Stefan paused.
“She doesn’t need to feel your pain. Nor the depth of your viciousness. She’s still human, after all. She’s not as versed as she thinks in the savagery of our kind. Plus, if she feels your pain she’ll set the place on fire to save you. Best cover that link when you meet your challengers.”
“Didn’t need to be said.” Stefan started off down the hall.
The soft click of the door sounded unnaturally loud in the empty corridor. He set a course for his room, feeling his anticipation rise. Waiting for the challenge he knew would come. And as he walked, he felt something. Soft whispers of current barely moved the air around him. A heaviness pushed in from the sides, the temperature a fraction warmer in certain places than the chilled air circulating the rest of the enclosed space. Prickles tickled up his back and around his arms.
Something watched him.
His eyes flicked right and left. He glanced behind and peered into a doorway as he passed. It was empty, which was not usual for the middle of the night. Even in a human hotel, a species that kept the opposite schedule, there would be one or two souls moving around at this time.
He slowed down, covering that link as Dominicous had explained and honed in. He didn’t get where he was, as young as he was, without feeling danger pressing in on him. And reacting.
He struck out to his right, glancing off of a warm, solid form. Without wasting any time or even knowing how many were there, he grabbed hold of an arm, then a neck. With a roar of might, he picked up the large being and hurled it. The feeling of movement had him turning with liquid joints, striking out once again at a solid form invisible to his eyes. He rammed someone against the wall and pounded into a body. His hands felt upwards quickly, not wanting to lose the advantage. He found the head, and bashed it against the wall in two hard thrusts. The slide of a body said that the form was out of commission.
He turned back to the hall, his hands out, ready to grapple. If they had swords, he was screwed. But they wouldn’t kill him. They needed to see that beyond a shadow of a doubt, he couldn’t be attached to a leash and used to control Sasha.
Silky movements rustled the air. Nearly silent footsteps moved away in the opposite direction, leaving whoever was on the ground. Blood stained the carpet next to him, leaking out of thin air.
The corridor emptied out. He could feel it.
He needed the spell to undo whatever these people were using as disguise. He had to be able to see.
He pushed ahead. He needed to find Sasha first, to make sure she was okay, and then Toa.
Not five minutes later, as he turned toward the center of the building, it was as if a veil had been lifted, the first signs of life since he’d gone into that room with Kallias surging around him. Well-dressed males and females, reveling in their arrogance, traipsed through the halls and meeting rooms, going about whatever business or games they had on their agenda. Humans often followed behind or bustled through on their own, running errands and living subserviently.
Sasha would not like that one bit. She’d probably form some kind of taskforce, even though it was, undoubtedly, the humans’ choice.
He walked through at a measured pace, drawing eyes. Gazes dipped, finding the blood spatter on his ironed, collared shirt. Languid smiles curled the lips of a few women. One even reached out to trail a red, manicured finger along his chest.
Suddenly, he knew exactly how Sasha felt being called a plaything. He went from the King of the Mountain to the attractive jester in the space of a few hundred miles. No fuckin’ way.
Another jolt of adrenaline rocked his frame. He couldn’t help his body flexing, his anger seething out around him. As if a shockwave boomed out, a wide-eyed bubble of spectators opened up around him. Males and females alike glanced up, and then shuffled out of the way. He was ready for battle, no matter the venue—a male couldn’t just fight his way to the top, he had to own his status as he did so. Stefan was no stranger to playing his role of leader.
He kept his measured pace up a flight of stairs, attracting eyes, and down a different corridor, this building nothing if not never-ending tunnels on every floor but the first. A hundred yards from his room, two males stepped into the hallway and stopped, facing him, side by side.
He couldn’t help it but grin.
“Nothing but a backwoods nobody,” the male on the right sneered.
Standing four inches shorter than Stefan, with half the body mass, and the movements of a clumsy adolescent, this male was obviously only working with a half-deck in the intelligence department. That, or he was terrible at sizing up his competition. His friend, a smidge taller and more robust, had a gruesome scar on his face and a cruel smile.
These two weren’t nearly smart or talented enough to pull off an invisible spell. He could see that in their blind swagger and their over-anxious movements, which meant possibly the invisible watchers earlier were exactly that: watchers. Spies. It explained why they took off so quickly. Which made these fools the first rung of challengers.
Stefan nearly laughed. Did they think so little of him?
His steps quickened as his temper rose. Electricity exhilarated his body, pumping through his chest and sizzling out his limbs. He focused on the male with the scar, obviously the stronger of the two. Reaching him with fluidity, Stefan grasped his shirt before the male knew how quickly Stefan would engage.
Stefan slammed the challenger against the wall once, twice. The hollow thump of his head rebounding off the wall echoed down the empty corridor. He punched the fool in the face three times, cracking a cheek and smashing his nose. Two more violent jabs to a kidney
buckled the male’s legs. Stefan ripped him to the side, splashing his limp body across the ground.
His hard black eyes beat down on the pale brown of the next challenger. For one beat, the challenger met his gaze. The challenger’s chin rose fractionally, but his back was bowing. He hadn’t been ready for the brutality with which Stefan had assaulted his counterpart.
Slowly, as if a great weight bore down on him, the challenger’s resolve cracked. His eyes, dulling in defeat and submission, sought the ground. His body finished its bow. The power and fight in him seeped out.
He submitted.
“Challenging me was the wrong move,” Stefan said in a low voice filled with command. “I give challenges, I don’t receive them.”
“Y-yes,” the male stuttered. The acrid smell of urine wafted up.
“Yes, what?” Stefan pushed, leaning over the male, making his dominance complete.
“Yes, sir.” The male swallowed noisily.
“Yes, Boss,” Stefan corrected.
The man nodded adamantly. “Yes, Boss.”
Stefan straightened up and walked away without another thought. He’d just stepped up the challengers. There was no sense in playing a game about it. This whole facility had turned into a cesspool of bored politicians. Backers and power plays and whispered words—it was a weak way to go about things. They needed a leader, not a decrepit council. They needed votes and action, not false promises and words with double meanings.
And if someone said Stefan wanted that role, they’d be wrong. Since he’d talked to Kallias, he just wanted to walk away from all of this. To head toward a place that made sense. Home. But in order to survive, he had to be the toughest male they’d ever seen and the most vicious. His race worshipped that behavior, and Sasha’s safety demanded it.
Fighting a sudden pallor, Stefan let himself into his room and took a deep breath. Dominicous said the one place, besides the dining hall, that was forbidden to invade was the living quarters. No listening, no spying, and no challengers wanting to get a jump on him or Sasha.
He took a moment in the still setting, peaceful and quiet. He could lightly smell Sasha’s delicious scent. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. It’d only been half a day, but he missed her. He worried that she was okay. That she was handling her first challenge without a heavy heart.
Above all, he worried she wouldn’t make it out of this in one piece. He was afraid that they’d kill him off and leave her vulnerable.
He looked around the room for a sign of where she might be. As he expected, he noticed a note taped to the window. Jonas’ impatient hand scrawled the message: With the mongrels
Smart
Stefan paused at the door, his hand on the knob. His adrenaline was winding down, leaving his muscles quivering. Leaving him not as primed for another attack. But Sasha was out there.
Another deep breath and he was out the door again heading down the hall toward the shifters. Before he’d gotten two steps, though, he noticed someone coming up the corridor toward him. Slight and slinky, oozing sex, he could tell immediately that this was a human female. Not a challenge.
Slowing down, just in case she traveled with anything unseen, Stefan allowed himself a moment to analyze this creature—the type of human that seemed so common in this place. Submissive and with a desire to please, she, like the others, seemed to slink around with a promiscuous air. Even the males sauntered around promising sex. He’d seen these females glance at his kind imploringly and angle their necks, as if they were offering something. As if they were a buffet. There was no honor in their bearing, no pride. They were content to be used. To be lesser. It was disgusting.
The woman glanced up and noticed his advance. Her step slowed and a sultry smile curled her red lips. She veered directly into his path, all hip and breast. Her head tilted back, exposing three scabbed bite marks on her porcelain skin. Whoever had taken blood had not done so gently.
“Would you like a taste?” she purred. “I can please you in ways others cannot.”
He didn’t bother to hide his disgust as he stepped to the side to move around her. It was at that moment, though, that he caught her scent. It curled around his senses and infused his body. Unlike Sasha’s scent, however, this smell had a hint of decay. Like a dying rose in winter. Wondering about the difference, he slowed. “You have a scent to your arousal.”
“I taste just as sweet. Use me.”
He shook his head in frustration. “Is that common among humans? Are there many that give off a scent like you?”
Misinterpreting him, she stepped closer and draped her body over his. “Of the few I am one-of-a-kind. Sought after. I have my pick of the strongest and most attractive males at the Council.” Her hand ran up his chest. “Like you.”
He grabbed her by the wrists and removed her. “Do males have this scent as well?”
“Is that what you’re into? Well then, I can find someone to fulfill your needs. I have all kinds of friends.”
The way she’d said friends had Stefan pausing. His stomach tightened up. “Do my kind pay for this pleasure? Are those with scents sought-after for this… type of… endeavor?”
She made a sound not unlike a purr. Her back arched, allowing her breasts to coat his chest. He tried to push her away by her hands, but the female was limber. She did everything she could to keep contact. “Nothing is for free, handsome. But for you, maybe I’ll just ask a favor. You I’d like to taste. Tell me, what is your name?”
He let go of her wrists in order to grab her shoulders. As he made contact and started to push her away, a blast rocked the floor. Fifty yards up a door burst loose from the hinges, clattering against the opposite wall. Jonas flew out after it, hitting the wall with a thud and sliding down to the ground.
“Don’t worry about that,” the female said in a feminine hum. “I’m protected.”
“Not from her, you’re not.” Stefan pushed the female away.
Even as the last words rolled out of his mouth Sasha stormed into the corridor, her face a terrifying mask of rage and violence. She saw him in the corridor, and then honed in on the woman trying to cling to his side.
The expression on Sasha’s face got even darker. Not good.
Her body turned to face him slowly, like one of those westerns with the gun slingers facing off at high noon. She didn’t seem to notice Charles running out after her and saying, “You gotta leave him be, Sasha. Seriously. You can’t go around saving males. People will think he’s a sissy-la-la. Plus, you’d probably just—” Charles cut off when he realized what Sasha was looking at. The younger male’s eyes widened. He stepped away slowly. “Uh oh. Boss, it probably wasn’t the best place to be doing a thing like that…”
“He doesn’t need you interrupting his fight for dominance.” Tim stepped out of the door. Ann was right behind him. “This is how it’s done. With his kind as well as Shifters. We—”
Sasha was still staring at him, hurt now mingling in with the rage. He could feel her magic building in the corridor. Feel her scratching at their link, desperate for him to take off the muffle. He did so, immediately washed in her pain at what she was witnessing. With it came fear and anxiety, probably from worrying about his challenges.
“This isn’t what it looks like.” Stefan pushed the female away again, only to have her stepping back up immediately. If it wouldn’t make matters worse in Sasha’s eyes, he would physically lift the disgusting female and toss her down the hall.
“Really, Stefan?” Sasha started walking forward slowly, eyes on fire. “Because it looks like some slut-bitch is draped all over you.”
“Who the hell is she?” Ann demanded, walking right up beside Sasha. “Honey, get your filthy paws off him!”
“You’re not helping, Ann!” Charles yelled. “He’s probably got a good explanation. Right Boss? If not, you better think of one, quick, or your challenges are about to end in death.”
Jonas got off the floor stiffly.
“Yeah, like he could
n’t keep his dick in his pants?” Ann’s eyes filled with a crazy light to match Sasha’s. Ann was fiercely loyal where Sasha was concerned. Stefan had always thought that was a good thing. Now, not so much.
“Did you figure out how to cover up the link so you could screw this tramp, Stefan?” Sasha asked in a deathly-quiet voice. Bitter agony clouded the link.
Charles flinched back from Sasha’s arm, yelping.
“I thought you’d died,” she continued. The link colored with fear now. “You didn’t tell me you knew how to do that—I thought someone had killed you. I ruined Tim’s room, I tossed Charles across the couch, I threw Jonas through the door—all because I wanted to help you. All because—”
Her voice cracked, moist eyes threatening to overflow. “And here you are, playing sexy with another human. What the—”
“A better human,” the woman spoke up.
Green magic whipped around Ann. Her eyes rolled with a feline gold. Tim, sensing his subordinate’s shifter magic, gave Stefan a long, assessing stare. He glanced at Sasha before shaking his head and going back in the room.
Ann was just let off the leash. Great.
“This isn’t what you think, Sasha,” Stefan said in a hasty release of words. “Don’t release that spell—”
Sparklers erupted within the wall. Blistering balls of pure black sizzled as they floated around lazily. Any one of them would kill whoever it touched. That kind of magic was extremely hard to control. And it was calmly floating around their heads.
Charles ducked and covered his head. “Sasha, you’re a little unbalanced. I don’t think…”
“Don’t tell a woman she’s unbalanced!” Ann seethed. “Because I will show you unbalanced if she won’t!”
Jonas started forward with powerful, purposeful strides. “Keep that magic off me, human,” he growled. He didn’t balk, even when one of the balls nearly didn’t shift in time. He cut a path to the female wrestling with Stefan’s hands to get closer to his body, grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, yanked her away from Stefan, and then tossed her down the hall like a doll. She landed in a pile of limbs.
