Dire Wants

by Stephanie Tyler

  “Wanted to do that … for a while,” he managed before the drugs won. He should’ve shifted to get them out of his system faster, but it would’ve meant less time with Angus … and more danger for him as well.

  Fuck, he was in trouble.

  Chapter 31

  Since you opened it.

  Jinx didn’t say anything for a good long while after the vampire called him out. Not until his phone rang and he knew he couldn’t avoid Vice for much longer. “I’m okay,” he started.

  “Good for fucking you, but Cain’s not. He’s been drugged by the fucker Shimmin,” Vice told him.

  Jinx shot up. “Where is he? I’m going to get him.”

  “He’s with Angus Young.”

  “The fed or the rock star?”

  Vice snorted. “Cyd talked to them both—says Cain’s all right, sleeping off the drugs.”

  “Suddenly we trust the fed now? He’s on Shimmin’s side.”

  “Cyd doesn’t think he is or Cain would be in the trappers’ hands by now. He said his twin antennae would be blowing up if there was a problem.”

  Well, hell, Jinx couldn’t argue about that. He knew the twin connection was way more powerful than anything. “Call me the second he gets home.”

  “Got it, boss.” Vice hung up on him, rightfully so. Jinx shoved his phone in his pocket and wondered when he’d become such a dick.

  “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

  They ordered takeout to be delivered to the completely empty apartment below, so Jez’s vampire cleaning staff or whoever the fuck he hired could clean it up. Jinx wasn’t paying attention most of the time, not until they dug into the food and Jez said, “You can stay with me upstairs, wolf.”

  Jinx snorted. “I don’t need a roommate.”

  “Well, you need fucking furniture. And you need protection. Without your pack, you’re—”

  “Fucking immortal.” Jinx grabbed the lo mein and dove in, and for many minutes there was only the sound of chopsticks and quiet chewing from both wolf and vamp. “Didn’t think you guys ate.”

  “Most don’t. I’m from the older generation.”

  “Yeah, ditto. And the present sucks. Nothing is the way it was. It stayed pretty much the same since the tenth century and now it’s going to change?” Jinx asked, not really expecting an answer.

  He didn’t get one. Jez shrugged and asked, “Want something to drink?”

  “If you offer me blood, I’m going to punch you.”

  “Wolf, please.” Jez handed him a beer and Jinx took it grudgingly. “I understand there’s a war brewing.”

  “A fucking mess is more like it.”

  “So why are you here instead of with the Dires?”

  Jinx smiled. “Haven’t you heard? I’m an evil son of a bitch.”

  Jez clinked his beer against Jinx’s. “Welcome to the club.”

  After they both took long drinks, Jinx asked, “So where’s your vampire nest?”

  “Don’t have one.”

  “You’re rogue?”

  “Not exactly. I’m not the only vampire in town, but I’m the most powerful.”

  Jinx wasn’t feeling powerful at all. In fact, this whole thing had taken a turn he hadn’t quite expected.

  “You’re worried they’re right—about you being evil?” Jez inquired.

  “Why would the witch lie?” Jinx asked.

  “Maybe she’s not lying, just misinterpreting what she sees. Nonetheless, we can’t be separate entities any longer,” Jez said. “There’s too much at stake.”

  “So all the deadheads are getting into bed with the wolves?”

  “You won’t get help on this from the vampire community—just us,” Jez said.

  “Who is us?”

  Jez smiled. “For now, be content with me. The rest are working in ways you won’t see, waiting for the right time to strike—although that might not happen for years.”

  “And you?”

  “I will strike as soon as you need me to. I’m here to watch you, Jinx.”

  “For thirty years?”

  “It’s been longer than that.”

  “So there’s more than just one prophecy floating around.”

  “There’s more to that wolf prophecy,” Jez conceded.

  “There’s no prophecy about me.”

  “That you know of,” Jez added.

  “Didn’t know vamps were so into wolf business.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. We kept up with you to save the humans.” Jez didn’t look happy about that as he sniffed, “Inferior race.”

  “You weren’t ever one of them?”

  “I was a born vampire, not a made one,” Jez said. “We’re far superior, and we’ve been around longer than the Dires.”

  “I’m sure we have history to disprove that.” Jinx wasn’t in the mood for yet another pissing contest with the vamp. His body ached, Brother Wolf was uncomfortable and he longed for a good, hard run. Or a fuck. Or both, and he wasn’t getting either thing here. “Look, in case you haven’t noticed, our kinds don’t exactly work together.”

  “That’s because you have more wolves per capita in this area than anything. You’ve got some shifters, like the pride who come and go when things get too rough. Basically, they’re lazy.” The vamp dismissed them with a wave. “Your clan is as powerful as mine, both body-wise and ability-wise. If our clans were to spar, it would be a draw. Together, we would be most powerful.”

  “My clan isn’t interested in power,” Jinx said evenly.

  Jez laughed. “Everyone’s interested in power. What differs is why and how it’s used,” the vamp corrected.

  Jinx had to agree. “What’s Kate interested in?”

  “The witch? She’s good. She’s got an old soul and she can help, but Rogue …” Jez trailed off and shook his head.

  “Did you know the one who did this to him?”

  “Quite well.” Jez threaded his long fingers together and paused. “Seb loves the Dires.”

  “He’s got a funny way of showing it.”

  “He did choose, Jinx. It could’ve been worse.”

  Jinx wasn’t sure how, but he’d been around long enough to know that jumping to conclusions never got you anywhere.

  They ate the rest of the meal in relative silence, with Jez mentioning his nighttime routines.

  Jez certainly did more than stay in his penthouse. The Dires should’ve been paying him, since the vamp did nightly patrols in both the buildings and the neighborhoods, often stopping the trappers from ensnaring unsuspecting young wolves.

  “You always sleep in wolf form?” Jez asked him finally.

  Jinx shrugged. “The ghosts leave me alone that way.”

  “They don’t bother me.”

  “I wouldn’t think the undead would bother themselves.”

  Jez gave a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’d be surprised.”

  *

  Angus had finally fallen asleep, still half pressed against the young wolf and trying not to hump him in his dreams. He’d been out maybe a few hours when his ringing cell phone woke him.

  He fumbled in his pocket, the proximity between him and Cain still somewhat startling to him.

  It was Shimmin. All he said was “Bring Cain Chambers to me immediately.”

  How the cop knew he was with Cain bothered Angus. He’d been discreet, and he was damned good at his job.

  “The scent—they can track us,” Cain said sleepily.

  Shit. “What do I do, rub us in mud?”

  “Such a fucking soldier,” Cain mumbled. “Hang on. I can take care of it. But you have to move closer. Unless you want to call Shimmin back and turn me in.”

  The wolf’s eyes were wide open now.

  “If I do that, you’d kill me before I could dial the number,” Angus said.

  “If I thought your answer would be yes, I’d have already flayed you, human, drugs or no drugs.”

  Angus pressed his lips together as his phone began to r
ing again. He held it in his hands and moved closer to Cain. The young wolf nestled Angus against him, his cock brushing Angus’s ass, his arms around his chest. The heat rose around them; the air changed—it smelled like sunshine, the beach. Everything wonderful.

  He turned his cell phone off and fell back to sleep, until Cain shoved him. He woke with a start and stared down at eyes that were still out of it, but much clearer than earlier.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Angus asked him.

  “I drank the water,” Cain said with a coherence that was a relief.

  “I’m guessing that’s not a drank the Kool-Aid euphemism, right?”

  Cain shot him a dirty look. “That fucker drugged me.”

  “Why?”

  Cain shook his head, and Angus knew he wouldn’t get any more intel, even though he felt he was owed for sticking his neck out.

  You were never on Shimmin’s side to begin with. And still, no part of him was ready to admit that everything in him was telling him to root for the damned wolves.

  *

  When Stray left her bed, Kate slept, restlessly at first, and then she’d reached for the grimoire. Holding it, she’d had her first easy slumber in forever. It was as if the magic eased inside of her and covered her protectively. She felt reborn, renewed when she woke, having no idea how long she’d been out for.

  She sat up and paged through the book—and she recognized what was written, knew all of it. As she’d dreamed, the pages had become a part of her, and now the power that coursed through her frightened her. The lights flickered. She didn’t know if it was only in her room or happening throughout the entire house, but she couldn’t control it.

  Yes, you can.

  The voice was hers, quite rational, and the instant she thought it, calm settled on her like a warm blanket. The lighting situation stabilized immediately.

  “Good, that’s good,” she told herself. How could she feel crazy any longer after what she’d learned about Stray and from him?

  There are monsters out there, and right now, they were actually the good guys. She had no reason not to believe him. She didn’t feel any sense of evil in his presence or in the house and she’d definitely felt it from Leo Shimmin. The man had been sent to kidnap her.

  Stray hadn’t told her exactly what her role would be, but she felt a bit like a superhero, like Wonder Woman, her favorite, in this great war. And the fact that she could help eased her apprehension. Because this was big, life-altering, world-changing stuff.

  She wished she had Wonder Woman’s bracelets or at least the Lasso of Truth.

  As she got to the chapter she’d stopped on originally a few weeks back, the one on familiars, the same nervous feeling she’d gotten before fluttered in her stomach and she almost put the book down again.

  Almost.

  It was only then that she realized Stray was in the room with her, his wolf curled on the chair in a tight ball by the door. Guarding her. Protecting her.

  She had to accept that and knew also that to accept this new world, her powers, her place, was to surrender to it.

  For so long, she’d maintained her sense of careful balance that the outside never matched the inside. Now that would change, and she was actually relishing the feeling that allowing her tight grip on self-control to release would make everything right in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.

  She decided she needed to stop reading the book because by doing so she avoided having to actually practice magic. She wasn’t ready to face this, but with this supernatural war happening, there was no time for further procrastination.

  “Start simple,” she whispered to herself. There was such a need to prove that she wasn’t what Stray told her she was, and somehow a greater one to prove that she was powerful.

  She’d never had power in her life—moved from circumstance to circumstance, helping people. But that always drained her.

  She wanted to do something that made her feel good.

  Her fingertips tingled as they remained close to the candle’s wick. Too close, because she had to pull back fast when the flame shot up. She sat back and rubbed her hands together, watched the white light flicker. Then she extended a hand and concentrated on making the flame higher and finally extinguished it completely with a snap of her fingers.

  Pretty cool. But certainly not enough to break an Adept’s spell.

  She paged through the book she’d been avoiding. There was an entire chapter devoted to the witch whose powers coursed through her. With a shaking hand, she turned the page and stared at the picture of someone she’d been told never existed.

  “Lila, I wish you’d told me who you were when we met. I wish you’d saved me earlier.” Kate knew none of that could’ve happened. Lila had been beautiful, with strong features and a small smile, not unlike the Mona Lisa, which belied the hint of secrets untold. “But in the end you did save me.”

  And dropped her into a world she might never have known otherwise. Wolves. Witches. Vampires.

  Don’t think about that now, she lectured herself.

  “I’m meant to do this. It’s right,” she told herself. The candles raised their flames for that moment of agreement before going back to their normal size.

  She would never have normal again, and she needed to be strong enough to handle it. The choice to be otherwise just wasn’t there.

  Chapter 32

  Stray needed to meet with Kill alone first. Since the Dire relationships were tense within the pack even as plans came together, Stray would put things as right as they could be between himself and his brother before inviting the rest of the clan in.

  He needed to do his part to keep his family together. He would get what was necessary from his brother and then he would force Killian to leave town, no matter what that took. Oh, and hope that working together wouldn’t trigger an apocalyptic type of prophecy, as Vice had so kindly reminded him of moments earlier.

  With a last look behind him, to where Rifter, Vice and Gwen sat around the kitchen table with Liam, he opened the door to the room in the basement Killian stayed in. He pushed the guilt aside that his brother was down there all alone, because it was by the wolf’s own choice.

  “He asked to stay alone in the dark—said it was like his hibernation period,” Vice told him.

  Even so, the area where Killian resided was a mini-apartment, complete with kitchenette, plasma TV and plenty of entertainment to keep anyone happy.

  He knocked once and then went in, because Killian would be waiting for him.

  “Brother.” Kill stood in the middle of the room, his arms open with a drink in one hand, the bottle in the other, his voice mocking.

  “Put the drink away,” Stray told him in lieu of a greeting. “We have a job to do.”

  Kill smirked, but he shelved the bottle behind him, threw the remains of his drink down the drain before placing the glass on the table that separated them. “Peace, Stray. That’s all I want.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Kill kicked the chair out to sit, did so with his arms folded on the table. “You didn’t tell your new Dire family about us? Our family? I’m so hurt.”

  “You have no right to talk about my past.”

  “Our past,” Killian reminded him.

  “Let’s just stick to talking plans, all right? We need to use our abilities together to program as many human weretrappers as we can to get out of the business of trapping and killing wolves.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “And that’s it, Killian. That’s all you’re putting in their minds. Just that they need to leave the weretrappers, leave the wolves alone and go on with their lives.”

  “Forever?” Kill asked. “Because alone, I can plant new thoughts. Working with you, it’s different.”

  “You told me you needed me to make sure the thoughts you planted worked.”

  “Yes, that’s what I told you—and that’s true. But when we work in tandem, I don’t just plant thoughts. I can erase memories and cre
ate new ones. It goes beyond the power of suggestion—takes it to a whole new level.”

  “And you never told me?” Stray demanded, and Kill shrugged.

  “Somehow, I didn’t think you’d take it well. Besides, it was more dangerous for you to know. I didn’t trust your new family not to use you.”

  “And now?”

  “Now you asked, so I told you.”

  “How can I tell if something is a permanent memory?” Stray asked.

  “You’ll listen to the difference. You’ll have to help me, because it’s a delicate procedure, and delicate and I don’t exactly mix.” Killian smiled wryly and Stray’s gut churned. “You know, these abilities are inside of us for a reason.”

  “To help. And to destroy,” Stray muttered without thinking.

  “You still believe in that prophecy?”

  “You know you do too. I called you because the great war is starting.”

  “Steele—”

  “Don’t call me that,” Stray growled. “Ever.”

  Killian held his hands up in mock surrender. “Got it, Stray. So, great war. We help and then … we destroy?”

  “We help and then separate again so we don’t have to destroy.”

  “You stay with your new family and I slink back into the night, is that it?” Killian rubbed his hands together.

  If Stray closed his eyes, he could see Kill’s hand wrapped around the hilt of the knife. “You could try to kill me again, but it didn’t go so well the first time. Maybe you could turn the knife on yourself instead.”

  Killian stood so quickly the chair he’d been sitting in flew back, hit the wall and toppled with a loud crash. Stray braced himself, but his brother remained in place, his only movement to unbutton his shirt.

  When Kill pulled the fabric apart to expose his chest, Stray saw the same knotted scar he had.

  When his eyes met his brother’s again, the understanding—and the explanation—he’d always wanted to see was there.

  Turns out, it hadn’t come too late after all.

  *

  Killian spent forever rehearsing for this moment and he still hadn’t known how to tell his brother what he’d wanted to say for fifty years. Turned out, showing him had been simpler.

  Kill hadn’t told him anything earlier about the mixing of the abilities or the scars because what would it change? They had great power together—yes. And he’d sliced the knife through his younger brother with the intention of killing him. There was nothing he could say that would change that, or the fact that he’d left Stray to rot in that damned cage his parents kept him in.