Chosen by Fate

by Virna DePaul

  There was a pause, and then he said, “Open the door, or I’ll break it down.”

  His quiet assertion stunned her even more, and to her horror, she felt an immediate surge of lust. Her perpetually cold body suddenly prickled with heat. Her nipples hardened, and the flesh between her thighs ached, adding to all the aches she normally lived with.

  It was so unfair, to only feel warmth when she was turned on. Because she couldn’t do anything to satisfy her desire, being aroused inevitably meant more pain, a hollow ache in her gut that grew steadily worse until she wanted to curl into a ball and scream.

  Instantly, she remembered the first and only time Caleb had kissed her, and how, even though they’d been wrestling in the snow at the time, the press of his body against hers had heated her skin, making her feel sensations that she’d only grieved more once they were gone. She’d told herself then that her response, the thing that had made her stop fighting and willingly open her mouth for the invasion of his tongue, was a result of having just been blown apart and fused back together. That would be enough to make anyone act out of character.

  Yet, she knew, if he kissed her now, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from responding again. She’d felt need like that before. First it had been the need for pain. Then the need for drugs to numb the pain. In both cases, she’d become dependent on both. Until she’d been nothing but a mindless shell.

  The idea of craving something like that again scared her more than dying. As long as she was strong, with only herself to worry about, she could deal with whatever BS fate threw her way. If she allowed herself to care about someone else, to depend on them for her survival or to have them depend on her . . . ?

  She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

  If she died today, so be it. The only regret she’d have was not knowing who she’d been. That would, however, be a huge regret. She wanted, no, needed, to know why. Why the last ten years had happened. But more importantly, who was she? Who had she left behind? She’d tried to find out, but at every turn, she came up empty. No one knew her. Even her fingerprints were gone. It was as if she’d never existed.

  But she knew she had. And she had to know who she was.

  Now, more than ever, she needed to act fast. She needed to get answers while she had the chance. She couldn’t control much in her world, but regretting or not regretting her own actions was something she could.

  So she wasn’t going to let Caleb O’Flare in her room, despite her instinctive need to meet aggression with aggression and desire with desire. Besides, she reasoned, Caleb’s attraction to her was as temporary as it was predictable. He was a healer, and that was the only reason he felt anything for her. He wanted to help her, just as he would want to help any wounded creature. But what he didn’t know about her was that she was incapable of being helped.

  Even as she stepped toward the door and wearily leaned her forehead against it, she threatened, “Do that, and I’ll make sure you can’t dance at Knox’s wedding, let alone nail any of the desperate females I’m sure will be there. I’m busy and I don’t have time for your immature games, Caleb. Go find Lucy and bother her.” She raised her head, knowing it would take more to get him to leave. Suddenly inspired, she taunted, “Better yet, why don’t you go run to Mahone and report what I’ve been doing. Isn’t he due some information by now?”

  She held her proverbial breath when he didn’t immediately respond. Told herself it was impossible to feel someone’s hurt through the thick, wooden door that separated them.

  She felt it anyway. Lightly resting her palm flat on the door, she imagined him standing on the other side, a man almost too beautiful for his own good. In a moment of weakness, she’d asked Lucy to describe what Caleb looked like in colors—something wraiths couldn’t see. It hadn’t been just the words Lucy had used but the tone of her voice that confirmed she wasn’t the only female to find Caleb attractive. Slumberous green eyes. Silky caramel-and-toffee-colored hair with just enough wave to make Lucy itch to touch it. Bronzed skin. Wraith knew for herself he had a broad, rangy body and was good at hiding who he really was. He liked to play the laid-back, charming ladies’ man, yet she sensed the inner darkness he tried to hide. Not dark intent, but the darkness of pain.

  She knew from the files she’d hacked months ago what he’d been accused of—torturing Otherborn soldiers during the War. She’d known the instant she’d met him it wasn’t true. She hadn’t needed to be psychic, either. Caleb’s goodness was as visible on him as death was on her.

  “I don’t know why I even bother,” she heard him mutter.

  The fall of his footsteps as he walked away were quick, as if he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. Opening her eyes, she turned and scanned her small dorm room. It was as barren and as impersonal as it had been the day she moved into it, even though she hadn’t packed up a single thing. She could leave this instant if she needed to, with no regrets.

  That was how it had to be. How it would be.

  The sooner Caleb accepted that, the better off they’d both be.

  The wall of monitors was as high-tech as one could get. Twelve flat-screen panels broadcasted the images of the most powerful humans living in the United States. And each and every one of them was relying on Isaac Smith to restore order to a world gone mad.

  “Tell us, Isaac. Did you deliver our message to Mr. Jenkins?”

  Isaac resisted the urge to smooth a hand over his bald head or fiddle with his glasses. Instead, he leaned against his cane and took several steps closer to the bank of monitors on the wall—in particular, the screen transmitting the face of the Quorum’s sole female member. “To the letter, Ms. Athena.”

  Although the raven-haired woman was beautiful enough to deserve the name of a Greek Goddess, Isaac couldn’t help thinking “Hera” would have been a more appropriate pseudonym. After all, Hera had ruled Mt. Olympus by Zeus’s side, and it was becoming clear that, while the Quorum was supposed to be ruled equally by all its members, the human female was slowly taking a leadership role. When she advised, few argued with her.

  “But did he hear you, Isaac?”

  Isaac sighed and turned to Mr. Apollo’s image. How to respond? Apollo was one of the few Quorum members who enjoyed butting heads with Athena. Although Isaac had no reason to believe they’d ever met face-to-face, the hostility between the two seemed to indicate it was so. Of course, that would mean a major Quorum rule had been broken. If such a thing was ever proven, both would be eliminated. None of the twelve members of the Quorum’s Board of Directors were ever supposed to meet, and none were supposed to know the others’ true identities. Each human had been awarded a spot on the board by virtue of one thing—the amount of money in his or her bank account. Money, after all, was power, and when it came to stripping Otherborn of the rights granted to U.S. citizens, huge amounts of both were absolute necessities.

  “Mr. Jenkins indicated a certain amount of . . . displeasure at the Quorum’s attempt to control his right to free speech. He said if we were truly interested in eradicating an Otherborn presence in North America, we certainly wouldn’t want to quash his attempts—heavy-handed though they may be—at shedding light on the feline race’s inherent sinfulness.”

  “In other words,” Apollo murmured, “no.”

  “I’m afraid not, sir. Mr. Jenkins strongly feels he needs to warn humans about the feline heat and the fact it turns feline females into, and I quote, ‘immoral whores and sexual predators.’”

  “His methods may not be the best, but he certainly is an outstanding judge of character,” Athena interjected. Several of the Quorum members laughed while Apollo scowled like a recalcitrant little boy.

  “He needs to be reined in, Athena. He’s stirring up the public, and by bringing so much attention to the felines, he’s undermining our plans. Plans, I might remind you, that require a more subtle hand than Jenkins is capable of.” When Athena remained silent, Apollo snapped, “Help me out here, Hades. Do you agree with me or not?”

/>   Mr. Hades sucked in his weak chin and said, “What’s there to agree with? Jenkins is a vulgar bigot with no agenda other than hate-mongering. I don’t believe, however, he’s influential enough to interfere with our ultimate objective. I say the more hate he can stir up for the felines, the easier it will make things for us in the end.”

  Only Isaac saw the way Apollo’s face flushed with anger. “Damn it! That’s not what you said yesterday, Hades, before you—”

  “Gentlemen,” Athena interrupted, her voice betraying both amusement and resolve. “I believe we should leave Mr. Jenkins to his own devices for a while longer until we’re given proof that his role as a feline oppressor is somehow damaging the Quorum’s objectives. Does everyone other than Apollo agree?”

  As Isaac recorded the votes and Apollo seethed quietly, the other ten members of the Quorum cast their agreement.

  “So it’s settled,” Athena said. “Thank you, gentlemen.” Ten of the twelve monitors flickered to dark, and Isaac powered them down and made sure they were indeed unable to transmit either video or audio. Only when he nodded did Athena recommence speaking. “What of our other problem, Isaac?”

  Earlier, out of earshot of the other Quorum members, Athena had referred to a “whoring human female who was a traitor to her race by publicly worshipping at the feet of Otherborn savages and doing their bidding for them.” Isaac assumed this female was the “other problem” Athena had spoken of.

  “It’s being taken care of, ma’am.”

  “Good.”

  Hesitantly, Isaac’s gaze moved to the only other lit monitor. The man staring back at him never failed to make his skin crawl. It wasn’t so much the thick, bumpy scars on his face that caused Isaac’s involuntary response, but his flat, icy stare. It was devoid of all emotion, even the arrogance or hate that often lit the eyes of many of the Quorum’s members.

  This man didn’t hate. The word was too weak for what he felt. What he wanted.

  His goal wasn’t just to strip the Otherborn of their civil rights. If he had his way, he’d make every one of them suffer the pain of a thousand deaths. And that went double for any female human who’d dare take an Otherborn for her mate.

  Even if that human female was his own daughter.

  FOUR

  VAMP DOME

  PORTLAND, OREGON

  It was a hell of a celebration.

  Not every day did a vamp, especially one of royal lineage, marry a human. As witnesses to the momentous union of Knox Devereaux and Felicia Locke, new friends and old had been allowed inside the Vamp Dome, the stronghold and sanctuary of the Devereaux clan, which included most of the vamps in the United States.

  To someone who’d never been inside, like Caleb, it was a mind-boggling experience. The Dome was a massive enclosed territory that operated as a structured, peaceful society with topnotch security; it was part of the United States, but clearly separate from it. Much like Caleb’s own reservation, he figured. Unlike his reservation, however, the Dome didn’t suffer from poverty or a fractured community. Rather, it had hundreds of posh residences within its borders; its own government buildings, including a courthouse and jail; and at its hub, the resplendent home of the royal Devereaux family, the clan’s leaders.

  The royal ballroom was big and opulent but not garish. Marble floors with some kind of black accent screamed money, while the curtains, oversized artwork, and multitude of flowers, both inside and out, radiated class. No expense had been spared on the food, decor, or the diverse guest list, which had meant flying in countless numbers of individuals from abroad. Even the President of the United States, Cameron Morrison, and his wife, Vanessa Morrison, had extended their congratulations to Devereaux and his bride.

  There was no denying that vamps knew how to throw one hell of a party.

  The grand affair, however, wasn’t just a wedding celebration, but a celebration of a family united despite centuries of lies. It was also a celebration of success and salvation. Or at least the beginnings of it.

  Even now, Caleb could hardly believe it.

  They’d done it. The Para-Ops team had successfully completed its first mission. It had brought back the vamp antidote from North Korea, and the Goddess Essenia willing, hundreds of vampires would soon be recovering from a decade of starvation. Better yet, they’d completed their mission without losing anyone on the team, Mahone included. It was a heady victory, even if it did mean the Para-Ops team’s job had just gotten a helluva lot harder.

  Already, despite their attempts to contain the information, rumors about the antidote had been leaked to the public. Those who opposed the administration of the antidote were protesting, stirring fears of what would happen once vampires again attained their full strength.

  Unfortunately, those fears weren’t completely unfounded.

  Since most of the guests in the Dome were vampires, one didn’t have to look far to see the ravages the antidote was intended to fight. Despite their fancy clothes, it was clear most of the vampires were sick. Starving. Some looked better than others, indicating some still had access to immaculates, humans with pure blood. Whether the number of humans with full blood had increased recently due to the discovery of the antidote was an unspoken question, but Caleb believed the answer was a resounding yes. Although the antidote was being withheld due to the possibility of dangerous side effects—to the humans taking it, most likely—he knew there were humans who’d be willing to take their chances if it meant saving someone they loved.

  Felicia Locke would certainly take her chances over and over again, and nothing Knox Devereaux could say or do would be able to sway her from that course. Unfortunately, most humans couldn’t accept the willingness of their kind to sacrifice themselves for vampires. One had only to look at Knox Devereaux or his mother and father, vamps who were close to their full strength, to see the threat they inherently posed to humans.

  Taking the antidote that would once again allow human blood to nourish a vamp was going to be strictly voluntary, but there was always the risk that if the antidote got into the wrong hands, it could be wielded to create victims rather than donors. That risk, however, wasn’t worth the destruction of an entire race of innocents, Caleb thought, but some would never accept that.

  Plus, although Knox had caught one of the vampires responsible for the disappearance of the antidote as well as Mahone’s capture, they hadn’t been able to find the individuals who’d been pulling the strings. They knew whoever it was had to be wellorganized and heavily funded, but at this point that was all they knew.

  Still, Caleb tried to push aside his thoughts and focus solely on the beauty of his surroundings and on the pleasure of dancing with the female in his arms.

  If it weren’t for their complicated past, Princess Natia would be exactly the kind of female Caleb needed after the hellish last few weeks. Generous. Feminine. And she was sexy as hell, all curves and fragrant, soft skin, with long hair ribboned with shades of gold, toffee, and espresso.

  Right now, those curves and soft skin were pressed against him, making his blood heat and his mind race with memories of what their bodies had once done to each other. But he’d already been having doubts about his and Natia’s compatibility before Elijah had died, and Caleb’s role in Elijah’s death had severed whatever bond they’d had left. Even despite her recent words of faith in him—specifically, her belief that he hadn’t had anything to do with her brother’s death—and despite the affection he still held for her, he knew getting involved again wasn’t what he wanted.

  Caleb was a different man now. Yes, he’d managed to heal a great deal since joining the Para-Ops team. In playing the easygoing charmer, he didn’t have to pretend quite as often. That part of Caleb’s personality was returning more and more on its own, but his past was still there. The betrayal. The blood. With Mahone’s promise to uncover the truth about Elijah’s death, Caleb found his pain lessening with every day that passed. Instinctively, he knew Natia wasn’t supposed to be part of his healing. It w
as better to leave her in the past, where she belonged. But he didn’t want to hurt her, either, and her own clan had been experiencing difficulties . . .

  He frowned when the slow music changed to something with a rocking beat and he heard a female whoop.

  Wraith.

  His gaze instantly found her on the other side of the dance floor, surrounded by a veritable smorgasbord of Otherborn representatives: vamps, mages, felines, and weres. Given the strong smell of roses Caleb had detected earlier, Knox had even invited a shape-shifter or two. Even so, despite the variances each race brought to the table, Wraith stuck out like a neon light in a vast wasteland of darkness.

  His teammate was dressed as she always was—skin-tight black leather, four-inch blue stilettos, shockingly white, spiky pixie hair that was in extreme contrast to her bluish skin—yet she looked nothing like the female he was used to seeing. He’d only seen a genuine smile on her face one other time, and that had been in response to music, as well.

  This time, her smile seemed to be equally prompted by the stranger—a tall, broader-than-average vamp—she was dancing with. Although he couldn’t see them, Caleb imagined that her eerily hazed-over eyes, covered as usual by her big Ray-Ban sunglasses, were focused on the vamp’s handsome face.

  Mixed feelings swept through Caleb. Anger. Confusion. Resignation. At one time, he’d wanted to be someone who could make her smile, but she’d never let him close enough to try.

  If his own pain was a raging river slowly growing calmer, Wraith’s was a lit fuse ready to blow, taking everyone around her with it.

  She didn’t trust or rely on anyone easily. The fact that he’d betrayed her for Mahone had only been the nail in the coffin as far as she was concerned. But that hadn’t stopped her from endangering her own life to save the two of them. That was something he’d never forget, even though she clearly wanted him to.