Crimson Storm

by V L Moon

  “Ma'am, please, I don't mean any trouble. I was just wondering,” Sage gulped, her throat dry. “Could you please tell me the name of your town or show me on a map where I am?”

  “Come here, child. Don't you worry about a thing; you let Grandma Ivy fix you a plate and get you all warmed up. Then, we'll see about showing you where you are.”

  Sage considered protesting Ivy’s suggestion, but her stomach churned at just the right moment. It grumbled with a mixture of her wolf’s call and her own need to eat. Ivy smiled bigger and motioned her to come back. Following Ivy toward the back of the counter, Sage stumbled in the oversized shoes. If Ivy hadn’t caught her, Sage would have ended up on her ass, a laughingstock for the local hicks. Ivy looked her over again. Her large arms held Sage's slight frame with ease as she took in the oversized clothes and stupid shoes.

  “Pet, whatever sort of fix has such a pretty little thing as you walking around like this is beyond me. But, I won’t ask questions. You want to talk, we’ll talk. Now, come on out back to the kitchen where you can have some lunch and put some meat on them bones, hey?”

  “Thank you, Ivy, really. This is very kind of you, but I can't pay you. Not right now, but I will. I promise I won't forget.” The plate of steak and eggs followed by a full stack of pancakes and bacon with pats of butter and maple syrup looked enormous. But, Sage was so very hungry.

  Ivy took her morning break and sat opposite Sage in a small nook in the kitchen out back. She watched with a broad smile as Sage polished off the last piece of bacon and sipped at the fresh coffee laden with three spoons of honey and full cream. Sage sat back as her wolf curled up inside her happy and full. She relaxed just enough to let out a long sigh of contentment.

  “Now, that you’re full there's a pair of old sneakers, some uniform pants and a few winter hoodies that'll fit you in the lost and found box. What say you get into something that fits you and let’s see if we can’t figure out the map?”

  A tidal wave of emotion slammed against Sage's heart at the kindness in Ivy’s words and eyes. A stream of tears and sobs erupted and were mopped up by Ivy's napkin. The waitress just held her, hugged Sage as if she were one of her own. Sage let her. She breathed in the aroma of fresh baked apple pie and coffee and the small trace of lavender that was probably Ivy’s soap of choice and felt a strange sense of comfort.

  It wasn't long before the tears dried up and Sage was staring at her own reflection. “I…thank you, Ivy. Thank you.” Sage checked herself in the mirror. The clothes fit better and the shoes were perfect compared to the ones she'd previously stolen.

  God, she felt guilty. But, looking at herself in the small bathroom mirror, Sage promised that as soon as she was back on her feet she'd come back and compensate the owner of the cabin for her intrusion and Ivy for her kindness. She thought about her parents and wondered if she should try calling, but thought better of it. Khurn had no doubt already assigned wolves in his pack to her parents’ compound to pick up on the slightest whisper of her whereabouts. She was on her own with no chance of help. Sage felt more alone than ever before.

  “Pet, are you alright? Do you need any help?” Ivy's soft voice brought Sage back on track. She couldn’t afford to lose focus.

  “I’m fine,” she called through the door. “I’ll be right out.”

  Minutes later, she joined Ivy back at the table. The waitress had spread out a small map of Ontario. Sage gasped, shocked at how far north she’d come. She was expecting…hell, she didn't know what she had been expecting, but not this.

  Looking at where Ivy pointed to a town called Ignance, Sage couldn't help but notice Lake Superior had been highlighted. It was probably noted by a local or someone passing through, but to Sage it was a beacon, a sign.

  She remembered her younger years with her own pack at home and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Her father had home-schooled Sage; most shifter kids were. It was a safety precaution in their younger years until their wolves were more manageable. Sage's father, Able and his brother, Sage’s Uncle Jorn had both been part of a pack from Ontario, Canada. But, after meeting their mates both her father and Jorn opted to join the packs of their spouses.

  They brought with them tales of roaming the many islands dotted across the great lake. And there, right before her, was the same lake. It was somewhere Sage could hide. Khurn would be days behind her; that much she did know. It gave Sage the advantage. If she could get across the water, there'd be no way he could track her unless he went to each and every island.

  He'd do exactly that when he made his way north and couldn’t find her. Sage knew Khurn wouldn't let her go. He'd hunt her down and kill her for escaping him and the pack. But, sitting in the back of the diner looking at the name of the lake, Sage knew it was her best chance to hide.

  When Ivy went to the counter to serve a new customer, Sage wrote down the address of the diner and slipped it in her pocket before Ivy returned.

  “I have to go, Ivy. Thank you for your kindness. You don’t know how much I needed it.”

  “It was the Christian thing to do, pet. You be careful out there.”

  Sage tried not to cry again when Ivy handed her a backpack laden with food and water, enough to get her through the next few days if she was careful. When Ivy slipped a small envelope into Sage's pocket, the tears won out. Sage shook with emotion and hugged Ivy tight.

  When the door of the diner chimed shut behind her, Sage backtracked toward the railroad tracks. She hoped she'd be able to hide out on the next train heading northeast toward the Great Lakes and her possible escape.

  ~*~*~*~

  Chapter Eight

  ~*~*~

  Anchorage, Alaska

  The haunting echo of Vischeral’s voice lingered in Copi’s mind; yet, the room remained empty, void of his presence. The abyss created by his absence crippled Copi, robbing him, albeit briefly, of the ability to think. A feral snarl ripped from his lips and grew in volume until the reverberating howl rang in his ears and made his chest ache. Anger ruled him, robbing him of everything he’d once held sacred. Fur bristled beneath the surface of his skin and an unquenchable thirst turned his mouth arid and twisted his gut into painful knots. Consumed by the need to feed and sate his thirst, Copi staggered toward the fridge and pulled at the door.

  The sight of the bagged blood stored inside made him groan. He should have been revolted by the metallic scent; yet, the yearning to drink overruled his instinct to turn his back and throw up. He couldn’t stop himself from clutching the crimson filled bag. He drew in a long shuddering breath. The scent made his fangs descend. He thought back to how Vish’s blood tasted as it coated his throat, evaporating his thirst with its thick nourishing life force. He could still taste it, still feel it running through his veins like a river of fire stoking the embers of his love for the dark, deadly male that had saved him.

  As he bit into the bag and drank of its contents, Copi tried not to gag as the cold blood sated his thirst and helped to appease the dormant beast sleeping within him. The tacky fluid was a piss poor substitute for the fiery taste of his lover’s vein. Vischeral’s blood was unlike anything Copi had tasted before. Juicy and ripe, its heady flavor was addictive, intoxicating, and Copi yearned for more. He needed to be able to touch and lose himself in the feel of his lover’s arms. He longed to come undone as he sank his newly acquired fangs deep into his lover’s vein and drowned in the bounty of the crimson force of Vischeral Bourne’s strength.

  He was safe there. He’d only just stepped foot into his new life. He knew nothing other than the fact he must feed on Vischeral’s blood to keep the beast inside of him at bay. What was he going to do with Vish being ripped away from him so soon? And what’s more, who was that motherfucker? Who did he think he was coming into their home and taking what belonged to Copi? He was going to rip the fucker’s throat out and drink him dry if he laid a finger on Vischeral.

  A low growl vibrated through Copi. He slashed at the bags and drank until he could no lon
ger think straight. Drunk and lightheaded, his thoughts revolved around Vischeral. His hands and mouth; that powerful body owning him; Vish feeding him and filling him with a pure sense of life and belonging that fuelled his desires.

  The memories stoked his wrath. A red haze descended on his mind, obscuring his vision. Copi went numb. Fearing the unknown, Copi stilled amid the hazy embrace. Vischeral had explained very little other than the fact that his senses would be heightened, but as much as he tried, Copi found himself helpless against the impenetrable force surrounding him.

  Whispered words taunted his hearing. The feather light touch of invisible fingers danced over his skin. They made him feel alive, invigorated. Warm air brushed over his face, its scent a strange concoction. It lured Copi to open his eyes and reach out to brush his fingers through the winged illusion of a towering angel glowing with celestial light.

  The beauty of the male’s aura morphed before his eyes to take on the form of death incarnate. Red eyes sought him out and compelled Copi to his knees. He tried to fight, strained against the pull to obey the stranger’s command. Who the fuck was he to order Copi to kneel? He knelt before no motherfucker. Ever. Unless he was giving head, and then it would only ever be Vish.

  “Azarian is your king. And no fucker gives him head except me.” The red haze swirled and lifted around him. For a split second, Copi swore he saw mirth in the celestial’s eyes before magnificent wings lifted upward, clearing the mist as he rose up and dissipated into thin air. Panic seized him; surpassing the awe of the celestial vision. He didn’t want to be alone. He had no idea what he was capable of or what he was supposed to do. He needed Vischeral. Maybe, this Azarian could help him, but where was he supposed to start looking?

  Jesus, he hadn’t even known vampires existed. He didn’t even want to think about what else was out there lurking in the shadows. If this Azarian was indeed a king, what was he the king of exactly? Vampires, angels or werewolves? Oh my! At any second, he half expected to be swept away on the yellow brick fucking road to find Vischeral acting out the role of the great and powerful Oz. He was so fucking screwed, and so not in the way he wanted to be.

  With no one to guide him through the wilderness of his new life, Copi hesitated on the brink of despair. Would sunlight kill him? Vish never ventured out into the sun, he always took the night shift. And, how would he feed? Was he meant to bite people, or live off of the chilly gloop stored in Vischeral’s fridge? Or, was he only supposed to drink from Vish?

  And then, there was the other part of him, the part that frightened him the most. Without Vischeral to beat back the beast, what would happen to him if he failed to contain it? He needed help; he needed someone like him, from the world he had been thrust into with no instructions. But who? Where would he even begin to look?

  One thing was for sure; he wasn’t going to find out shit hiding out in Vischeral’s basement. He had to venture outside. Maybe someone or something would find him first. It worked for the psychotic wolf.

  Wolves. That was it. Christ, why hadn’t he thought of it sooner. When hunting the murderous wolf, he’d accompanied Vischeral to question Roan Merrick regarding Clara Defoe’s murder. They’d barley made it out alive after being surrounded and chased by a pack of wolves. Were they something other than regular wolves? The whole meeting with Roan bordered on strange, more so because of Vischeral’s behavior when they arrived and the weird effect of being inside Roan’s territory.

  At the time, Copi had put the whole crazy assed thing down to some sort of airborne drug released on their arrival. It was a far-fetched conclusion, but the only valid reason he could fathom. But, if Merrick shared the same preternatural affliction that changed him from human to wolf maybe he’d be able to help him find Vish or the Azarian guy, if he really existed at all.

  Erring on the side of caution, Copi decided to wait until nightfall before leaving Vischeral’s home. He used the time to call the department and cover his and Vischeral’s absences. The last thing he needed was an irate police chief calling him out and giving him grief. Thankfully, he still believed Copi’s injuries verged on critical. If he had still been full human, he’d be incapacitated for days. So what if he failed to elaborate on how he’d been saved. Gripping the covers from the bed, Copi buried his face in the soft fabric and drew in Vischeral’s scent.

  The memory of Vischeral’s touch, of his kiss intensified the pain of Copi’s loss. They were supposed to be together. After fighting against their attraction for so long, all Copi wanted to do was immerse himself in Vischeral. Despite his hard edges and stubborn ass ways, Copi needed the motherfucker, craved him in ways that threatened to drive him mad. The lure of the male was hard enough to fight before he was turned, and now that he had been and knew that Vischeral returned those feelings, it amplified Copi’s emotions.

  Vischeral’s blood sang through his veins, filling him with vigor and a newfound sense of life, a life he yearned to spend with Vish. The mere thought was enough to banish his fear of the world that awaited him on the other side of Vischeral’s door. It urged Copi to grasp the knob and turn it.

  Dressed in Vischeral’s clothes, Copi floored the gas unperturbed by the cold. He’d dressed befitting the weather so as not to draw any unwanted attention. But, even with the temperature hitting well below freezing, the biting cold and fast falling snow barely registered. However, the same couldn’t be said for everything else.

  In all of his human years, he’d never paid much, if any, attention at all of the mundane sights, sounds and smells surrounding his everyday life. The assault on his senses overwhelmed him. The heady aroma from the snow covered pine forests surrounded him as he drove. It mingled with the fresh scent of falling snow. The rush of wind from the lowered window brushed against his face and made the night come alive. The stars themselves burned brighter, lighting up the sky as the night closed in around him in varying depths of violet, blue, black and grey. They created a vibrant rainbow of startling darkness that he’d never witnessed through human eyes.

  Following the route from memory, Copi became instantly aware when he entered Roan’s territory. The heady scent of musk and fur lingered in the air, acting like a magnet. They knew he was out there; he felt them, sensed their anger and confusion. From a few, he smelled fear at having an unknown enter their territory. Low howls filled the air announcing his arrival. Copi slowed to a crawl and looked out each side of the vehicle at the wolves flanking its sides. He should have been terrified considering their size, but the part of him that recognised them and knew their scent refused to yield or show any semblance of fear.

  Copi remembered the last time he was there. They had been enamoured with him and terrified of Vischeral. His vampire had walked in there unfazed by who or what he was about to face. Copi needed that zeal. He had to let Roan know he wasn’t feared; yet, at the same time, Copi needed to be respectful, after all he was in their home.

  With no choice but to seek Roan’s aid, Copi parked and eased from the SUV. Sweat peppered his brow and sent shivers down his spine. His body tingled in awareness as the beast within him stirred and scented the air. Like before, it was heavily tainted with the glorious aroma of sex, lust, seed and warmth. It sank in through Copi’s pores, staining his skin and provoking a snarl to slip from his lips.

  “Well, well, this is a surprise. Back sooner than I expected, Mr. Dane. Welcome, please, come inside.” Roan’s gaze fixated on Copi, but there was no mistaking the male’s hesitation. Copi saw it in his eyes as they darted toward the treeline and back again. He was looking for Vischeral.

  Entering the cabin, Copi waited for Roan to lead him into the office where he’d previously met with Vischeral. Except, Roan led Copi into a more informal room. Massive sofas surrounded a larger than life fireplace. The ambience of the room looked and felt like home and warmth. It enticed the beast bristling inside of him.

  Copi drew in a deep breath and groaned at the overwhelming bouquet of sex. If he had to make a guess, he’d say he was sitting
right in the middle of the pack’s mating den. Hell, they probably held orgies there in both wolf and human form. Copi pushed that thought to the back of his mind and focused on the mental image of Vischeral, of his arrogant nature and sardonic smirk. He pictured the steel reserve of his mind pushing back the beast and making it bow to his every command before snapping down the shutters of his mind and locking the beast away.

  When he looked up and met Roan’s gaze, the male’s eyes were shadowed, wary. He sniffed openly at Copi and growled showing razor sharp teeth. Copi ignored the male’s challenge. He wasn’t interested in the part of himself that recognised who and what Roan was. As far as Copi was concerned, he was vampire. He’d been saved and turned by Vischeral, drank his blood, savored him in ways that God knew he wanted to taste again. So, any grand gestures of pack rules or dominance were none of his concern.

  “I’m not here to cause trouble. I need your help, and then I’ll leave.” Copi refused to allow any weakness to show in the tone of his voice. Whereas in reality, he’d have thrown himself at Roan’s feet if it got him closer to finding Vischeral. Besides, he’d never been weak and he sure as shit wasn’t going to start when Vischeral’s life was on the line. Squaring his shoulders, Copi met Roan’s questioning gaze and smiled, letting the tips of his fangs descend.

  “Indulge me, just for a few minutes, please. I’m curious to know why our dear Mr. Bourne isn’t here to have your back. Has he deserted you? Left you, a newly turned half bread to fend for yourself? I have to say, if that’s the case, I’m rather disappointed. From the way he protected you, and then proceeded to devour your mouth on your last visit, I’d have gone as far as to say that our deadly little vamp was well and truly hooked. So where is he?”