Blood Legacy: Adult Urban Fantasy (The V V Inn Book 5)

by C. J. Ellisson

  “All right, how about you try to set up a meeting with him for yourself? No need to feel like a sellout.”

  I glance to my wife, suppressing my smile. That was her objective all along. She asked about finding his home, knowing he’d decline, and countered with a more palatable idea. She’s a clever bitch, that one.

  “Hmm…” Justin’s gaze shifts to the floor. “Let me think about it. I’d have to see if it could be arranged. He might not be willing to meet with me.”

  Dria smiles and rises, extending her hand. “Thank you for your consideration, Justin. And when you’re ready to get away from this city and seek out a more peaceful existence, maybe we can talk.”

  Whoa—what the heck did that mean? Does she intend to invite him to Alaska? We’re going to have to talk about that when we’re alone. He seems like an okay guy, but that doesn’t mean I want him to join our seethe. And judging by the annoyance in Jon’s eyes, he probably feels the same.

  We wrap up the conversation, promising to return if we think of anything else. A part of me is annoyed Jon spoke out about the animal attack when he did, but consequently, we’d already learned everything we were going to at that point and Justin’s reactions were revealing all on their own.

  The three of us make our way to the house I purchased yesterday, which lies several blocks to the north. Farther from the crime scene, too. I open the door with a flourish, presenting our new local residence.

  Dria laughs when she enters, the sound full of good humor. “Not anything like what you hinted at.”

  I smother a grin. I knew she’d be fine with whatever I picked, as long as it was safe and there was a bed. When it comes right down to it, she demands very little in physical comfort.

  “Not bad,” Jon says while sauntering through the small living room. “Is it big enough for your highness?”

  Dria shoots him a nasty look. “I will adapt. Not to worry. If it feels too cramped for space, you’re welcome to sleep in the backyard.”

  Jon snorts. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your bitchy edge while were we separated.”

  “Never,” she replies with a deadly grin, striding to the small kitchen in the back. That’s a look I’ve seen many times before, and one Jon should know by now means to shut the fuck up. She’s ready to blow, and I don’t mean in anger. She wants what only I can give her, and it warms my soul just knowing it.

  Hoping to break the tension, I motion to the staircase. “How about I show you to your room, Jon?” Without waiting for an answer, I ascend to the second floor. In a moment, I hear him on the steps behind me. “You’ll have this whole floor to yourself.”

  “Really? Where will you guys be? Doesn’t look like there’s space on the main floor for a bedroom. Is it off the back or something?”

  “I’ve got a safe place for us in the basement. I’ll show you next.”

  Dria trails behind us, content to check out the area at her own pace.

  I open the door to the largest bedroom with the adjoining bath. It’s serviceable, containing a queen bed, nightstand, and tall dresser. The accommodations aren’t the Ritz, by any means, but comfortable and clean.

  “Not bad,” the wolf says. “I’ve stayed in worse.”

  Dria mumbles from the doorway, “You’ve lived in worse, but who’s counting?”

  Jon doesn’t respond, tossing his large duffle onto the bed. “Let’s see the rest and then I have to take off for a little while.”

  “Where do you need to go?” I ask, unsure how I feel about leaving the doors unlocked while he’s gone.

  “I have to check in with the local pack. Don’t want to piss off any big dicks while we’re here.”

  I toss him the set of keys. “Take these. Lock up behind you. We need to get another set made tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jon

  I catch the keys, and follow Rafe down the stairs. He shows us the rest of the small main floor and then leads us into the tiny half bath off the dining room.

  “Not much room in here,” I say. “Did you really need us all to cram in?”

  Rafe ignores me and uses the toe of his shoe to kick the molding along the floor, triggering a section that pushes in. It’s a spring latch. Depressing it opens a hidden wall section, swinging it inward a couple of inches.

  “That’s some cool shit. How do you guys always have secret passage ways in your houses? Homes don’t normally come equipped with these.”

  “That depends on where you’ve lived, and when,” Vivian answers, pushing the door further and peering down into the darkened opening. “Argentina has a lot of German immigrants from World War II. Think of all those secret hidey-holes the Germans used to safeguard Jews from the SS. The same mentality came here when people fled the country to avoid persecution after the war ended.” She approaches the top step of the hidden staircase, looking eager to explore. “Although I doubt doing the same thing here was with the original intent—to protect their friends and neighbors who were unjustly hunted. I think whoever built this did it purely for self-preservation.”

  I stifle a snort at her description. “Sounds similar to you when you phrase it like that.”

  Rafe grabs a flashlight off the vanity, one he must have left earlier, and clicks it on to illuminate the way down. “There’s a bare bulb with a pull chain a little further down. I plan on adding a stick-on light near the top tomorrow.”

  Vivian descends, and Rafe, then I, maneuver through the tight doorway to follow. “Now I see what you meant by having to ‘build’ the furniture for down here. You couldn’t get much down these stairs.” There’s a soft whir of a motor below, and a light antiseptic scents the air, reminiscent of cleaners.

  We reach the bottom and Rafe pulls the chain, lighting the basement. The space is bigger than I expected, with shelves lining the two long walls, a large bed dominating the middle of the room, and a small seating area with comfortable chairs at the far end. Floor lamps stand near the bed and chairs. Very soon, all the lights are turned on, casting a warm glow in the windowless space. There’s a tiny refrigerator, sized for a dorm, in the far corner, with a microwave on top, and glasses and mugs sitting on the shelf behind both.

  Shiny new books and magazines line another shelf, and new clothes hang on a pole strung in place of shelves in the next area down.

  “How’d you get a king-sized mattress down here?” I ask.

  “It’s two twins, side to side, with a mattress pad over the top.”

  I nod, glancing up at the door, and the straight shot down to the tile floor. I bet he slid the smaller mattresses down easily. “Smart.”

  “It’s perfect, my dear,” Vivian says, throwing her arms around her husband’s neck, lust clear in her eyes. “You thought of everything.”

  I’m surprised Vivian is okay with such a dark and dreary location, but hey, the things I don’t know about that woman could fill a book. Wait, when I think back to all those journals, I’d say what I don’t know about her actually fills dozens of books.

  Rafe lowers his head to kiss her and I take that as my cue to leave. “Okay, guys, I’m out of here. I’ll make sure the back door is locked as well as the front when I leave. Anything else I need to worry about?”

  Rafe breaks their kiss for a moment to answer. “Nope, you’re good. Just make sure the basement door latch fully engages when you close it.” He resumes his kissing, hands roaming down to cup his wife’s ass.

  In the past, I’d be consumed with jealousy and longing at an awkward moment like this. But not now. I take the stairs two at a time, then turn sideways to exit through the narrow entrance. Now, I can handle their non-stop sexy times. I have Candy in my life and someone to return my affection. Life is looking up.

  I close the hidden panel right as a low chuckle from Rafe reaches my ears. I’m sure the two of them will be busy for the next few hours and not even notice I’m gone.

  Before I leave, I decide to touch base at home. I dig out my cell and move to the couch in the liv
ing room, then realize very quickly my sensitive hearing can easily hear the couple downstairs going at it, and make the short trek up to my new room, hoping the extra distance will drown out the randy pair.

  Candy answers on the second ring, sounding breathless. “Hey, how was the trip?”

  “Long and uneventful. Except for the parts where I was thinking about our last night together. Those moments were more fun.”

  “You sound like me. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.”

  I picture her masturbating on the bed we shared, the sheets twining around her long, toned legs. Soft moans sounding in the strong light of an Alaskan summer evening. “Is that what has you out of breath?”

  “I heard the phone ring and had to shift back to answer it.”

  “Oh? And why were you shifted?” I smile, still picturing her naked, but this time due to her fast change back. “And what—or who—were you?”

  “Not anyone, I’m happy with the shape of me at the moment, thanks in large part to you. I was trying on different dog breeds, seeing if I like anything more than a wolf.”

  “And do you?”

  “Not yet, but it’s a nice challenge to try. Changing into an animal I’ve never seen outside of a picture or YouTube video is… interesting, to say the least.”

  “Having no idea how, I’ll have to agree with you.” A thought occurs to me. “Could you essentially change into any animal you only have a vague idea of, like something you saw in an old drawing?”

  “I haven’t tried it. But if I could identify the combined body parts and scale, I probably could. Why?”

  “No reason, just curious.” I hate not telling her the truth, but the idea that whoever killed the man I saw on the news could be a shifter, and not a species like a werewolf, is something no one has mentioned yet. Could also be because Dria and Rafe have no idea we have a shifter living at the resort.

  It makes me wonder how many shifters are in the world. I know Candy has no idea, as she’s mentioned before that she worries she might be the only one left.

  “How are the dogs and pups?” I ask, referring to Eric and Pat with the puppy reference.

  “I saw them shifted as wolves and out running the property early with the dogs. We haven’t talked today, but they seem fine. Are you worried about them? Should I be checking in on them?”

  I think back to Pat’s awkwardness in the control room a few weeks ago. They probably need time to warm up to Candy on their own. Having her check on them might make them uncomfortable with her, like she was higher than them in the pack. And that’s not the case, yet. “Nah, don’t worry about it. If you feel like chatting with them, go ahead, but I’ll check in with them tomorrow. I don’t want to put you in that position. They’re good kids.”

  The word “kids” sounds funny when they’re only six or so years younger than me, but they haven’t been Weres long and the term fits how I feel.

  We talk for a few more minutes and then I hang up, the task of reporting in to the local pack weighing on me. I meditate for a few minutes, careful to lock all my feelings regarding Candy behind my mental shields. There’s no way I want to be near the horny couple and have a random image of me and Candy pop up for Viv to catch.

  Confident I’ve done all I can to keep my new relationship private, I return downstairs to check the map and locations I researched earlier on my tablet. The Were bar I want to visit is only a few blocks from here. It’s half past midnight, I should find some Weres hanging out, still enjoying the evening.

  As promised, I check the back entrance and exit via the front, testing the knob and door before leaving. We’re in a safe part of town, but it wouldn’t look good if I messed up something as simple as locking a door to keep the couple safe.

  The cooler evening air feels refreshing after the summer in Alaska. At least here there’s a noticeable, if slight, change in seasons. Back home everything seems to be in extremes. Even on the southern island, we get more seasonal enjoyment than Alaska.

  The nights are longer this far south of the equator during the winter season, but it’s still nothing like the enveloping blackness and gut wrenching cold of the deep winter above the Arctic Circle. I stride down the sidewalk, taking a left turn after a few blocks. Very soon, I’m near a more commercial and less residential section of the barrio. Restaurants, shops, and groceries line the streets, most closed at this hour.

  Bars seem to be the only exception, with their warm lighting and appetizing aromas beckoning one to enter. A few more blocks and I’m near the less populated commercial section, where some of the businesses look like they’ve seen better days and a few lone warehouses can be found. A loud howl rips the air, the sound made by human vocal cords. I glance up at the sign. Lupine Luna. Yup, I’ve found the local Were bar. And by the sounds of it, someone is having a great time inside.

  I push open the wooden door and enter. The smells of cooked and well-seasoned meat waft around me, tempting me to sit and order a second large meal of the night. I walk toward the bar, conversation dimming a little with my presence. I’ve been seen. And more importantly, they don’t know who I am or why I’m in their territory. Two men slip out the front door and I can’t help but feel like I’ve driven them away with my presence.

  I nod to the barkeep, addressing him in Spanish. “I’m looking for Hector. I’m visiting the city on business and need to let him know I’m here.”

  The short, dark-haired man locks his steely-eyed gaze on me, his full lips thinning before he opens his mouth to respond. “There is no Hector here anymore.” The muscles in his biceps tighten, looking like he’s holding himself back. But from what? And why?

  Apprehension slivers up my spine. I wonder who took over the pack. I feel for Hector’s wife, even though I never met her. He wouldn’t have stepped down without a fight, and depending on how hostile his challenger was, Hector is most likely dead. I doubt he’d be absent for any other reason. The victor could have claimed his wife, but in most cases a new alpha would choose his own mate. “Can you direct me to the current head of the pack?”

  All conversation stops as people turn to openly stare at me. The bartender tenses. “And where did you say you’re from, mister?”

  I smile and rest my palms on the bar, relaxing my limbs and trying my damnedest to look like I’m not a threat. For some reason, my asking about their leader has made the energy in the bar fly off the charts with agitation. “I didn’t.” I extend my hand in greeting. “I’m Jon Winchester, visiting from Alaska.”

  My casual approach and openness has done the trick. The Were behind the counter grasps my hand, giving it a solid pump up and down, and with his acceptance the tension around us lowers. “I’m Emmanuel. Manny for short. Welcome to San Telmo.” He waves to the rest of the patrons with a slow smile. “I promise they won’t bite—for now.” He drops my hand and reaches for a pint glass. “Can I get you a beer?”

  I look over the draft pulls on tap. “I’ll take a Dos Equis. So, Manny, are you the guy in charge? I stopped by as a courtesy, to let the local pack know I was here on an extended business trip and not a loner you need to worry about.”

  “I’m not the alpha,” his gaze drifts behind me, over my right shoulder. “But I—”

  A sultry female voice rumbles behind me. “Thanks, Manny.”

  I turn, coming face to face with the sexiest female werewolf I’ve ever laid eyes on. She’s tight and toned, close to my height, but still carrying an impressive set of womanly curves. Short black hair done in a messy, carefree style, frames a pair of sexy, dark-as-sin eyes, set in a face with full lips. “I’m Magdelena. Hector’s former wife and the new reigning alpha.”

  Sexual pheromones fill the air between us, and I can’t tell if it’s from her or me. My breath freezes in my chest, ensuring I don’t fall prey to my baser instincts and mount her like a horny dog. It’s got to be her. Sure, she’s hot, but what the hell? I do have a girlfriend I like a lot. It isn’t like me to feel this way about someone I just me
t.

  How is she their leader? Did she defeat the former alpha with her pussy?

  My thoughts must be broadcast on my face because her expression turns surly when I don’t immediately respond.

  “Uh… hi. I’m Jon,” I say, rushing in to erase the damage. She still doesn’t look very happy with me as I stumble on. “I apologize for my reaction. You’re the first female leader I’ve met who rules on her own—without a mate.”

  She shrugs one shoulder and cocks a hip against the chair next to me. “Not all of us are created equal.”

  My gaze travels up and down her body, noting the truth in her statement in a way she more than likely didn’t intend. “So… er, uh… Hector? What happened to him?”

  The sexy werewolf turns away, facing the rest of the Weres in the bar. “He didn’t agree with me, so he had to go.” She takes a moment to watch the reactions of the people around her, nodding once or twice at something she sees in the others. “And yes, I killed him—by myself.” She returns her attention to me and holds up a delicate hand. Before my eyes it shifts and sprouts claws, the fingers lengthening and growing into a strong, weapon-like hand and paw mixture.

  My cock lurches in my pants, surprising me with the immediate stimulus response that triggered arousal and not fear. She’s the first female Were I’ve seen who can change into a combination of a wolf and a human, at will. I’ve only witnessed one guy who could do it—and that was at a yearly regional pack rally with other Weres up in Canada. He was a bit of a dick, too. Flaunting his skill to intimidate us. Romeo, my former pack leader, ignored him and the rest of us followed suit.

  A full-body transformation would leave a human/wolf hybrid creature—a true “wolfman.” One that could kick serious ass over a Were in human form or one in full werewolf form. It’s a powerful skill I’ve heard is usually confined to only a handful of male alphas.

  Her nostrils flare, picking up my interest. I try and lock down the unwanted reaction, unwilling to send her the wrong message. I’m taken. No matter how fucking hot she is. I’m starting to fall in love with Candy, right? The attraction to another person—even if it is to a magnificent female alpha any werewolf would give his left nut to possess—feels disloyal.