Addict

by Lexi Blake

  The king had left placating mode and was now getting in his mentor’s face. Marcus didn’t look inclined to back down. It wasn’t hard to figure out which buttons Marcus would push. He’d already pushed them once.

  “I think Marcus just pointed out that the king might let his wife play around with other men, but he doesn’t do that.” I hoped I wasn’t about to have to get between them.

  Quinn sighed and called over a waitress. “I’m going to need something stronger than this.” She went off to do his bidding. “I wish he hadn’t gone there.”

  Something was off in this situation. Quinn was entirely too calm. I should have ignored it. I should have let it go. I couldn’t. “Shouldn’t you be all pissed off that Marcus is back?”

  It was harshing my buzz. Quinn was supposed to get his panties in a wad, and I was going to laugh.

  The fertility god smiled brilliantly. He might be an asshole, but he was also a hottie. “I’m perfectly thrilled to have Marcus home and happily settled down with a mistress.” He pushed the neck of my sweater aside. “I see he’s already fed tonight. That’s healing quickly, Kelsey. Either you’re more wolf than any of us suspects or Marcus is feeding you, too.”

  I felt Trent stiffen at the words, and he took a sudden interest in his beer. Wolves and vamps don’t always get along. Wolves tended to get pissed when vampires took she-wolves as lovers. I wondered if Trent truly viewed me as a she-wolf. I am, of course, but wolves tend to recognize my scent. None of that explained why Quinn would be so smugly self-satisfied at the thought of my relationship with Marcus. I wasn’t an idiot, though. I could take a logical leap. “You think if he’s involved with me, he’ll leave your daughter alone.”

  “Oh, Kelsey, I know Marcus,” Quinn admitted. “He’s intensely loyal once he’s involved with a woman. He won’t ever leave you, not even for his so-called destiny. And I knew exactly who was coming back with you. I never let those things get by me. I simply wondered if you would tell me. Now, Alan Kent is sitting at the bar. He said you were looking for him. Is there anything I should know?”

  I turned to the gorgeous faery, with his perfect face and more arrogance than anyone should be allowed. He might technically be my boss, but he wasn’t getting an inch from me. “I was under the impression there wasn’t anything you didn’t know. Excuse me.”

  Hopping off the barstool, I glanced at my boyfriend and the king, who seemed to be settling down. It didn’t look like it would come to blows, so I was probably safe to deal with the next situation of the night.

  Alan sat at the end of the bar, nursing a beer. He was dressed in jeans, boots, and a Western-cut shirt with pearl snaps. It was one of the better ensembles in his wardrobe. Alan was a few years older than me. If I remembered correctly, he’d recently turned twenty-nine. He looked older. He drank too much, even for a shifter. Like Scott, Alan was a pure shifter. Also like Scott, he wasn’t strong. They lived on the periphery of the supernatural world. They would never be able to handle themselves against a wolf or a vampire, so they tended to keep their heads down. It’s a sad truth of our world that if you aren’t an alpha, it’s best to try to not be noticed. I often thought that Scott and Alan would have been much happier in the normal world.

  “Kelsey.” He nodded sullenly. Like Liv, his eyes were baggy, as though he hadn’t slept much lately. His thin lips turned down as I took the barstool beside him. I realized his frown wasn’t for me. “Mr. Wilcox.”

  My eyebrow arched at that. Alan wasn’t the polite type. He must be completely terrified of Trent. Fortunately, I wasn’t. Trent was a little like a muscular tick. He’d dug in and I was going to have to burn him to get him off me.

  I had to back up to be able to see him. The man loomed over me. “I don’t need your help with this, Trent.”

  I heard the growl from the back of his throat. It made Alan go a nice shade of white. It made me roll my eyes. If I showed that wolf even a hint that he could intimidate me, I would never get rid of him. “You can watch me from another table, Wilcox. Go away.”

  He didn’t try to hide the growl this time. He leaned over, deliberately getting in my space. Trent Wilcox was easily a foot taller and had at least a hundred pounds on me. I smiled slightly and held my ground. “Watch it, baby girl. One day you’re going to push me too far and I won’t care how much trouble I’ll get in.”

  He stalked off and pointedly sat down at a table about ten feet away. He would still hear everything. I shrugged because he was probably right. I’d push him too far one day and we’d throw down. Part of me was looking forward to it. I hadn’t killed anything in a couple of months and the wolfy part of me was getting bloodthirsty. Tonight, however, I was going to have to settle for having pushed him back.

  Alan peered back at Trent, wariness plain in his eyes. There was a fine tremble to his hands when he picked up his beer and glanced back at me. His lips turned down in a sullen frown.

  Now we could get down to business. “There, now that the hall monitor is gone, we can talk.”

  “Don’t know what you want to talk to me about,” Alan replied, staring forward.

  So he was going to be stubborn. “I want to talk to you about Scott.”

  The trembling was a bit more than fine now. Alan had to force his hands to stop shaking. He set down the beer bottle. I could practically feel the frustration pouring off him in waves. “Since when do you give a shit about Scott?”

  I didn’t. I firmly believed the world would be a better place without him. He was a case I was getting paid to solve and nothing more. So why did I say what I said next? “I care about Liv, and she cares about Scott.”

  It really should be easier to hold a mean grudge. I consider myself a tough chick. Just three months past I killed an alpha and two beta wolves. Shouldn’t that chick have a hard heart? Hell, apparently I came from a whole line of hardened killers who had to be caught early or put down hard.

  But I was also my father’s daughter and he hadn’t been typical, either.

  “You haven’t acted like you care about Liv.” Alan pointed his beer bottle at me. There was a lot of accusation in that half-finished malt liquor. “She says you won’t talk to her. She’s been crying about it and shit. I don’t understand chicks.”

  “Obviously.” I didn’t like the thought of Liv crying. The truth was, Liv could easily have been convinced that what she did was best for me. Donovan and Quinn could have told her any number of things that could happen if she didn’t get me to comply. I would rather she had told me what was going on, but there was a real possibility that she thought it was for the best. I shoved aside the thought. “Have you talked to Scott lately?”

  He shrugged and I noticed the way his shirt hung off his thin frame. I hadn’t seen Alan in a couple of months. We weren’t close or anything, but I think I would have noticed if he’d joined a diet group. He used to have a nice beer belly going. Today, he was painfully thin. Like an emaciated supermodel without the pretty face.

  “I see him from time to time.” Alan’s eyes shifted from the bar back to where Trent sat. They moved quickly, as though not wanting to miss anything. “He works a lot.”

  “Yes, I heard he got a job managing the bar at the new club downtown.” I saw now that I had to treat Alan like any other reluctant witness. The trick with witnesses is to stay calm. You have to give them a nonjudgmental place to talk. Deep down, they all want to tell their story. They might give you a sob story about not wanting to get involved. Don’t listen to it. It’s crap. Everyone wants to be the center of attention, and that’s what you have to make them. It also helps if you know something about their nature. “It sounds like a pretty good gig to me.”

  Alan liked to correct people. It gave him a sense of superiority. If I wanted him to talk, I had to give him a reason to. “What the fuck do you know, Atwood?” I didn’t correct him on my new surname. “It’s a piece of shit job exactly like the rest. He thinks he’s hot shit now that he’s working for Julius Winter? That dude’s no better
than Quinn, maybe worse. Scott doesn’t go out anymore. He’s always working, and for what? He’s not making good money, and he has to put up with all the…”

  Alan clammed up and fast. His face went white. That look on his face told me Scott was in serious trouble.

  “I can help him.” I kept my voice quiet. I didn’t want to spook him further, but I needed to point a few truths out to him. “Do you know what I am now, Alan?”

  “You’re the Nex Apparatus.” Alan whispered as though he didn’t want to say it too loud.

  “I am the king’s death machine.” It was what Nex Apparatus meant in Latin. “I’m a Hunter. Whatever is hurting Scott, I can kill it. I just need to know what I’m getting into. What kind of creature is this Julius Winter?”

  Alan stood up and started to scratch at his chest as though he couldn’t help himself. His hands moved in paranoid twitches. Sweat ran down his brow despite the fact that Ether was always kept at 70 degrees. “He’s a rat fink bastard is what he is. You know what they do? They give you some and it’s awesome. I mean, it is seriously amazing. Like nothing before.”

  I was still and schooled my face into a passive expression. I got the feeling that whatever they were giving away at Brimstone, it wasn’t coupons for happy hour specials. Someone was dealing and Alan was high. If it was affecting a supe this way, it was some powerful shit. Supernatural creatures metabolize drugs differently. Faeries can handle their liquor, but not hard drugs. Give a werewolf or a shifter a shot of heroin and they’ll just get pissed off you used a needle on them. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a street drug. “Did they give you a little taste and then try to charge you through the roof?”

  Alan’s red-rimmed eyes filled with tears. “You have no idea. I needed it, you see. I had to do it. I didn’t want to sign anything. And I don’t want to do what I have to do. But, Kelsey, if I don’t, they’ll cut me off. Please tell me you understand.”

  He looked so lost standing there, scratching at his own flesh. He didn’t even realize his claws had come out. He’d scratched through his shirt and thin lines of red dotted the ruined fabric. Someone had to talk him down.

  I turned to look for Marcus because no one on the planet was better at persuasion than my lover. “Wait here for a minute, Alan. I know someone who can help you.”

  I was turning to cross the distance that separated us. Marcus’s head came up, sensing I needed him. He stood with a curious expression on his face. Donovan glanced up as well, his eyes following Marcus’s line of sight.

  “No one can help me, bitch.” Alan snarled as his claws sank into my arm. Pain shot through me as he turned me around with a twist. “But killing you might buy me some time.”

  His free claw swung in an arc that was meant for my throat. That claw was coming for me and it would split my jugular and then no amount of Marcus would likely stop me from bleeding out. I pulled away with all my might, something that should have sent weak-ass Alan across the room. He held me tight. I barely managed to avoid getting my throat slit. Alan’s claw did damn near take out my eye, though. He dragged his sharp nails across my cheek, gouging deep. I felt every inch of that tear.

  I kicked out to get him off me and landed on my ass because Alan was already being assaulted on two fronts. Trent had his clawed hands around Alan’s neck. Somehow, Alan seemed to be pulling away from the big alpha. He couldn’t get away from Marcus, though. Marcus didn’t need to lay a hand on him. Alan stopped trying to pull away from Trent. His eyes went blank and glassy and his hands suddenly sank into his own belly. Blood began to flow from the wounds.

  “Marcus, stop,” I yelled. Well, I tried. My face was totally fucked up and apparently having working muscles aids in the yelling experience.

  All around me the club was coming to a standstill as the blood started to flow. Quinn was on some sort of walkie-talkie and security had been called. Donovan was suddenly standing next to Alan, and I hadn’t even seen him move. He had his hands on Alan’s, trying to pull them away from his bleeding belly.

  “Trent, take his left hand,” Donovan ordered.

  Trent joined the effort, pulling at Alan’s claws.

  Marcus’s eyes had gone pitch black, his face a mask of pure rage. He stalked toward me. I could see his mind was still inside Alan’s.

  “Marcus, let him go.” The king was yelling now. He appeared to be having trouble holding Alan’s hands away from his body. You have to understand. I’m talking about the King of all Vampire. The dude’s kind of super strong, and he wasn’t able to break Marcus’s hold.

  My vampire lover said nothing, merely tightened his fist, and Donovan was swearing again as Alan renewed his attempts to gut himself.

  “Marcus, please.” I put my hands on either side of his face. I needed him to focus on me. While the idea that his brain could trump Donovan and Trent’s brawn did something for my girl parts, I had other problems to consider. First, getting clawed by a hopped-up-on-freaky-drugs shifter hurt like shit and second, I still had a job to do. “I need him. You can’t kill him. He has information I need.”

  “He cut you.” Marcus’s fangs gleamed in the low light of the club. “He would have killed you.”

  “And you can fix me,” I promised. “But if you kill him, I can’t get what I need out of him. Please. This is important to me, Marcus.”

  The vampire flashed his fangs and waved his right hand in an almost dismissive manner. Alan went limp, like a marionette who’d had its strings cut. Donovan and Trent had to catch him before he hit the floor.

  Marcus gently pushed my head to one side, studying what Alan had done to my face. It hurt like a motherfucker, and I was pretty sure my face was a mask of nastiness. Blood flowed freely down my neck and on to my chest. My lover’s face turned savage. Not killing Alan had been an indulgent act on his behalf, and one it looked like he regretted.

  “Does it hurt?” Marcus asked with a frown. I knew he was deciding how much blood I would need and if he should do it here.

  “Not bad,” I lied, trying to smile. The muscles on one side of my face didn’t work anymore, but I knew he would prefer privacy. I would, too. For some reason, I didn’t want Trent to watch me sucking on Marcus’s chest. It’s weird, but knowing he would watch made me pause.

  Marcus shook his head and took my hand in his. “Liar. Come along. It isn’t serious. We’ll fix it upstairs. I believe you will find the king now desires a word.” The king was, indeed, towering over me. Marcus waved him off. “Upstairs, Daniel. I need to take care of her, then she can answer your questions.”

  Donovan nodded. He obviously didn’t like it, but he let it go. I seriously doubt he would allow his wife to answer questions while she was bleeding and half her face was slowly sliding off her body. “Fine. I’ll be up at your place in fifteen. I’ve called Henri and Alex. They’re the best doctors we have.”

  Marcus started to lead me away. I turned back, trying to speak to the king. “He’s on something. I need a toxicology report. Also, check his clothes and shoes to see if we can tell where he’s been in the last twenty-four hours.” Something was seriously wrong with Alan and his body was my best evidence. “Maybe I should stay here until Henri gets here.”

  Henri Jacobs was a doctor and an academic. He was also Marcus’s friend. I didn’t mention the other doctor. I’d been hoping to avoid Alexander Sharpe entirely.

  “It’s fine, Miss Owens,” a softly accented voice said. Henri pushed his way through the crowd. His beautiful wife was behind him. Kimberly Jacobs had an ice pack in her hand. Henri looked at me and frowned. He nodded to Marcus. “Make sure she gets enough. I would not want that to scar.”

  “Here.” Kim handed me the ice pack. “It’ll take the sting out until Marcus can fix it.”

  I thanked her, putting the cooling pack to my face. Henri assured me he would get everything I needed. Marcus had enough of my stalling and simply lifted me up and started for the elevators.

  As we passed Dev Quinn, it was hard not to notice the look of utt
er satisfaction on his face. I made a mental note to ask Marcus what he’d meant with that crack about “so-called destiny.”

  Ten minutes later, I sighed as I pressed my mouth to Marcus’s chest and the rich velvet of his blood flooded my body. It was almost like a dark, deep chocolate, and I couldn’t get enough of it. At the heart, of course, it isn’t the taste that keeps you coming back. It’s what it does to your body. That blood gives you a hint of the vampire’s strength. You feel happier, safer, more alive than you could ever feel without it. It was the best drug I’d ever tried, and in my fucked up youth, I’d tried them all.

  “Keep drinking, cara mia,” Marcus said.

  I knew if I could see him, his fangs would be large and his eyes big and dark. It’s pleasurable for a vampire to share blood. If we had time, I was sure we’d make love again, but I could already hear the living room filling up with people.

  Marcus’s hands loosened around my hair, his signal that I’d taken enough. He wasn’t telling me I had to stop, merely that I could when I wished to. I took one long last mouthful and licked the hole on his chest. The minute I stopped sucking, it closed as though it had never been there.

  “Better,” he proclaimed after carefully studying my face.

  He kissed my forehead, and I glanced at myself in the mirror. If it hadn’t been for the blood on my skin and clothes, you wouldn’t know I’d been in a fight at all. I regretfully pulled the sweater off and turned on the water in the sink. I had blood from my cheek to my neck and across my shoulders. Marcus’s eyes darkened, bleeding out until there was no white left.

  “Baby, we have a whole roomful of people waiting,” I tried pointing out.

  The king and Quinn were both out there. Trent and a security team had followed them. As soon as Henri Jacobs knew anything, he would be on his way up.

  It didn’t matter, though, because I was now half naked with a vampire attached to my neck. Marcus sat on the marble counter of the bathroom and wrapped himself around me. He licked the blood from my skin with long, luxurious strokes of his tongue.