“There will be a new Alpha.”
“Mercer?”
“Aye, he’s the obvious choice. But here’s the thing: if they do indeed strip Clarence of his title, the bloodline no longer matters. Mercer would have to duel for it.”
My stomach physically hurt as I considered that. The battle to take over a shifter clan wasn’t just brutal—it was oftentimes fatal, with even the victor coming out worse for wear. I had every confidence in Mercer, but I was scared for him, and I’d be a liar if I said otherwise.
“Why are you telling me this, James? Shouldn’t this be something you brief Merc directl—”
“Because there’s more, and something that would only affect you. This is more than merely stripping a title. This is a power play by the European contingent. They want to move into the Americas.”
“So?” I shrugged. “Then send us a liaison. I mean, it’s not the worst thing in the world having the strength of the European Alphas at our backs.”
“Aye, but the only way to do it is through handfasting. Whoever takes ownership of the title gains the bride of Clan Campbell.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling stupidly lightheaded as the world spun. “What? They can’t do that. An Alpha determines his own bitch. The days of—”
“And this is where being so young works against ye, sweetheart. Because they can, and unless I’m wrong, they will. I would place any amount of money on Mercer winning.”
Selfishly, I wanted to say he could choose not to take up the mantle, that he could walk away, that he would walk away—for me, for us, for what we could be—but a terrible noise spilled off my tongue before I realized crimson tears were already slipping down my cheeks because maybe no us existed. He’d never mated with me.
Then the matter of the bloodline had to be considered. Within a shifter pack, as in the wild, when an Alpha stepped down, either by defeat or death, the new Alpha cleaned house, clearing out any and all traces of the previous Alpha’s claim to the throne—the culling of the young.
Emerson and Mercer would be spared—maybe cut off from the Silver Creek shifters, depending on who the new Alpha was—but Steven wouldn’t be. He was too weak, too frail to defend himself. That was the one aspect of a shifter’s life that I hated with every fiber of my being.
The system was ruthless but also made a very twisted sort of sense because there would be no potential for an uprising. All future enemies would be killed before they could amount to a true threat, securing the new Alpha’s line for generations to come.
Mercer would never allow it, and neither would I.
If Mercer won, which I had no doubt he would, I would lose him forever. That was true not because I wasn’t powerful enough to fight an Alpha Bitch—I was and am—but no Alpha would ever take a vampire bride and hope to lead his people in peace. It simply wasn’t done, and I’d be a fool to ever believe for a second that tradition wouldn’t always win out.
“Och, Scarlett, you’re breaking my heart, lassie. I’m so sorry. Please don’t do this.”
Giggling, though the situation was absolutely not humorous, I tried to get the words past my thick throat, but I couldn’t. Misery so acute that it was a physical pain made me clutch my stomach as I tried to just breathe.
On the other end of the line, the scraping of chairs and the sudden bustle of footsteps became audible.
“Scar, they’ve called us back. But I can’t go in there without knowing you’re okay.”
Sucking in a shuddery breath, I swiped angrily at the pink-tinted tears and whispered, “I’m okay. It’s ... whatever.”
He sighed deeply, and I knew he was worried about me, but I just didn’t have it in me to pretend.
“I should be home in another two weeks or so,” he said quickly. “We’ll talk more then. Take care of yourself, girl.” Then he was off.
I’d never even told him about the vampire ball. He wouldn’t have liked it, and he had bigger fish to fry.
I stared blankly at that stupid nail. With all the crap going on in my life, I’d let Clarence slip to the very bottom rung of importance, never once believing that the man could still affect me so personally from thousands of miles away.
Boy, was I wrong.
With a growl, I shoved myself up from my seat, marched over to the wall, and yanked the nail out, to toss it out the window.
I had a club to hit. Moving to my closet, I barely took the time to glance at my clothes before I picked out a simple black sequined V-neck cocktail dress that stopped halfway down my thighs. Four-inch strappy black heels finished off the ensemble. I ran some mousse through my hair, going through the motions though I felt none of my earlier excitement.
Head in the game, eyes on the prize, and for tonight, try to forget about the giant crater that’d just fractured this vampire’s stony heart.
~*~
Mercer
His heart nearly stopped functioning when he saw her. She looked like a dark angel, tempting and innocent all at once, wearing a little smoky eye shadow and dark red lips. Scar didn’t often apply makeup, but when she did, she could turn even a saint bad.
She sat in the still-idling truck, not smiling but nodding at him in greeting, and he immediately knew something was up. He was too intimately familiar with all of Scarlett’s moods not to know.
Earlier, he’d felt a maelstrom of emotions punch through her, making him feel faint and breathless, but he understood that for what it was, the fear of the upcoming ball, no doubt. That was really the only thing he could think of. He’d hoped, after their earlier conversation, that she’d realize she was no longer alone, but vampires were sensitive creatures, and he didn’t want to add to her stress. He hoped they’d learn something more from Helen that night.
Smoothing a hand down his black silk tie, he trotted over toward the passenger side and got in.
“Where’s Steven gonna stay tonight?” she asked first, giving him the side-eye.
“With Em and Candy,” he said with a soft frown.
“Good.” She put the truck into drive and took off.
He was struck by the incongruity of the vixen she was right then with the simple country girl he actually knew her to be. Hitting a club wasn’t Scar’s preferred way to spend an evening, but they weren’t actually going out for fun.
“What’s up?” he asked after another five minutes of forced silence.
He was sure she wouldn’t tell him because Scar was stubborn that way, but she sighed, glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and murmured, “I don’t know. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. Nervous about this damn ball, I guess. Really don’t want to go.”
Relieved that he’d been right after all, he relaxed a little. Scarlett had never been good at pretending, but she’d also never been good at sharing her private thoughts with others. He was relieved, at least, that their relationship hadn’t fractured to the point that she was shutting him out.
“Hey, you won’t be alone. I’ll be there.”
Her lip twisted at the corner. “Yeah. I know. Blue gave me a killer gown. Literally.”
He snorted, grinning at the obvious delight tingeing her words. Country girl she might be, but she did love clothes. She always had.
“Yeah? Tell me about it.”
Glancing at him quickly before turning down a country road, she shook her head. “No, I think I’ll keep it a mystery for now. I’ll just say this: the man knows his dresses.”
He chuckled. “Well, that’s one way of putting it. Pretty sure he owns more than you do.”
“Considering I only own five now, I’d say just about anyone owns more than I do.” Her words were light, but he still sensed a reticence in her.
Mercer was pretty sure that if he were in her shoes, he’d be feeling no different. Vampires were a conniving bunch, and Scarlett had killed one of theirs. They weren’t typically prone to a speedy revenge—vampires tended to like to draw out the torture—but he’d seen things in his life that defied expectation. He wouldn�
�t tell her to relax, for she needed to be alert and on her toes whenever she was around them.
Reaching over, he grabbed her hand and gave it a tight squeeze. She let him but didn’t return the gesture, and she only kept her hand in his long enough to be polite before giving him a regretful grin and placing her hand back on the steering wheel.
He’d just been politely brushed off. “Scar, is something the—”
She laughed, the sound airy and too damn forceful for his liking. “Course not. We’re here.”
Again, she was all that was polite, but he could sense her true feelings, and they were in turmoil. Something was bothering Scarlett deeply. While the problem seemed obviously all about the vampire ball and nothing about him, he couldn’t ease the knot twisting his gut in two.
However, before he could ask her any more about it, she parked and hopped out.
The venue was packed that night, which wasn’t surprising. Diane’s was always busy, rain or shine. Mercer hopped out of the truck, jogging to catch up to Scarlett, who was striding purposefully toward the velvet rope with a huge grin on her face for the half-giant, half-fae bodyguard, Bruce.
“Bruce,” she said breezily and held out her hands. “How are you?” Laying on her Southern charm, she smiled sincerely at the burly male.
His smile was swift in return. “Scarlett Smith, as I live and breathe. It’s been a month of Sundays. How you doin’, sweetheart?”
The genteel tone of the miniature giant was at odds with the physical appearance of the man himself, close to six hundred pounds and almost nine feet tall, with a flattened nose from years of bare-knuckle boxing and thick bands of scars across most of his forehead. His brilliant hazel eyes were a testament to his fae ancestry.
Reaching down, he hefted Scar into a massive hug, which she returned without complaint. Being manhandled by a giant couldn’t have been easy, but she simply patted his cheek once he’d set her down.
“How are the kids?” she asked.
He shrugged before regaling her with the latest exploits of his newborn twins. Mercer had no problem with their interplay. He’d always known Scarlett had male friends outside of himself.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he glanced to the left, noting the sea of people glowering at the two of them for cutting the line.
“Aw, I wanna see pics next time,” she said, eyes sparkling with delight. “Give Maude my love.”
“Will do.” Bruce lifted the velvet rope, ushering her inside before finally noticing Mercer. “Well, this is a night of surprises, ain’t it? Mercer, you old flea bag, didn’t expect to see you round these parts in my lifetime.”
Snorting, he and Bruce grabbed hands and shook in greeting. The sound was almost thunderous as the two powerhouses of strength met.
“I guess you really can teach old dogs new tricks,” Mercer said with a wink.
Bruce chuckled and waved him through before replacing the rope, causing an elegantly dressed female in a body-hugging sapphire dress to hiss and stomp her foot.
“I demand to be let in! Do you know who I am? How dare you keep me out here this long!” she screeched. “I’ve been waiting here two damn hours, and these asshats just saunter up and—”
The moment she yanked on Bruce’s coat, Mercer and Scarlett groaned.
If there was one thing Bruce couldn’t stand, it was the invasion of his personal space. With a roar and a move that belied just how incredibly swift the giant could be, he snatched up the female beneath her arms and tossed her.
The toss wasn’t hard. In fact, it was probably as gentle as a giant was capable of, but the fae landed with legs sprawled and staring dazed into the darkness.
“Anyone else having any problem with waiting?” Bruce practically roared as a vein in his neck pulsed angrily.
The mood tamed immediately after that.
With a shake of his head, Mercer laid his palm against the middle of Scarlett’s back and guided her up the red velvet stairs into the lush and exotic Pink Lady. Leaning into her ear, he whispered, “I think that poor girl got herself a concussion,” he chuckled.
She agreed. “Yeah, well, you should know better than to ever come at a giant with aggression. Though I’ll say this: I don’t think Diane is gonna care for the review in the Antiquitor tomorrow. That sassy little thing was none other than Lila DeBelle.”
“No shit,” Mercer chuckled, glancing back over his shoulder even though they were well inside the premises.
For just a moment, she smiled back at him. The sadness that’d shaded her eyes since their drive was gone, and he couldn’t help but stare at her, devouring her with his gaze. Moving into her space, he opened his mouth not sure what he was going to say.
The moment didn’t last long, though. With a soft shake of her head, she cleared her throat then whispered, “Guess we should try and find Helen.”
She grabbed his hand and gave it one quick squeeze before letting go and walking toward the bar at the back of the room.
Eyeing the patrons mingling nearby, Mercer channeled his frustration into learning the lay of the land. Always vigilant, he was hyperaware whenever Scarlett was with him.
He noted the half-human half-trolls in the corner. Some dwarves were laughing and feeling up a female hostess. Humans mingled with ease. Several shifters he knew, and some he didn’t.
He sniffed a few fae but no vampires apart from Scarlett. That was good. Mercer didn’t care to mingle with the old ones, especially not with Scarlett’s invite pending.
The cries and moans of sexual conquest rang obnoxiously loud in his ears. The Pink Lady had no rules when it came to sex, other than it must always be consensual. Couples, or even groups, were free to do whatever they wanted to do either out in the open or in the more private rooms hidden in the back.
Keeping close on Scarlett’s heels, Mercer watched as several employees greeted her warmly. She smiled in return.
No matter where she went or who she was with, Scarlett always managed to remain friendly. That was very human of her but also refreshing in a world of monsters known for an eat-or-be-eaten sort of mentality.
Scarlett glanced over her shoulder at him, body language letting him know to catch up. He did.
Leaning in, she said sotto voce, “So I... erm, might have bartered with a Green Man for stealth and shadow, and he wasn’t really happy how things went down after that. So if you see the ginger, mum’s the word.” She mimed zipping her lips.
Mercer lifted an eyebrow. “Bartered how?” A shiver of a growl reverberated through his words.
Rolling her eyes, she planted her hands on her hips. “Of all of that, that’s the only part you latch on. You’re such a dude.” Then, tossing her hair over her shoulder, she turned back around, plastered on a wide smile and beamed at the glass jar that’d appeared as though by magick before them.
Helen of Troy—just Helen for short—was the most breathtaking woman in all the lands. The rumor was that she’d been built by magick to be all things to all persons. Gay, straight, human, other—didn’t matter.
The only sure thing they knew about her was that, at some point, she’d lost her body and was only a head in a formaldehyde bath, resting upon a bed of her own stretched-out nerves.
“Vampire,” Helen cooed, making a kissy face at Scar.
Scarlett batted her long lashes. “Hello, beautiful. How’s it hanging?”
“Ah, you know, long and to the left.” That was the same exchange they always had. Helen’s steel-gray eyes glanced over Scarlett’s shoulder before growing wide with obvious excitement. “Fresh meat. Why, Scar, you shouldn’t have. And who are you, sex on legs?”
Attracted to the head despite himself, Mercer grinned.
Scarlett waved him off. “That’s just my bodyguard for the night.”
Helen gasped, sucking in a sharp breath. “Wait, is this the—”
Moving to block his line of sight, Scarlett quickly shook her head. “Anyway,” she said in a singsong, “came to see you tonight.”
Wondering just what in the world Helen had been about to say, Mercer thinned his lips, but Scarlett wasn’t to be deterred.
“Did you, now?” Helen’s full lips tipped up. “What for?”
Leaning forward on the bar, Scarlett deliberately showed her body off to its best advantage. The movement caused the V-neck to part just slightly, revealing the temptingly gorgeous rounded globes of her breasts to their delicious best.
Helen’s eyes immediately zoomed in right where Scar had wanted them to, no doubt. Mercer’s grinned stretched wider.
His vampire didn’t just play at being a vixen—she was one. Enjoying himself more than he might have imagined, he took a seat opposite them and watched his female play Helen with the wit, charm, and charisma of a master.
“For the one currency I know you keep in spades,” Scarlett said.
A thin eyebrow rose on Helen’s flawless face. “Oh?”
“Secrets, my dear. I came to learn stuff.”
“Damn you, vampire. Beautiful body or no, you know I can’t give you those. It’s the only thing I have.”
Scarlett shrugged as if she didn’t care, but Mercer could see by the lightning-quick reflex of her muscles bunching in her back that she was determined to get her way.
“You misunderstand me, my friend. I don’t want anything dangerous or sinister. I just want a little history.” Scarlett trailed a finger down the glass jar, almost a caress.
Looking more receptive, Helen thinned her eyes. “What kind of history?”
“What do you know about the Clan Infantes?”
Pursing her full lips, Helen glanced swiftly over at Mercer before looking back at her. “What do you need that information for?”
“Just working a case.”
“Thought you’d retired,” Helen parried.
Scarlett’s grin was wide and friendly. “I moonlight now and then.”
The lie spilled easily off her tongue, and Mercer was impressed. At no point did she appear ruffled or tongue-tied. Scarlett was in her element, and he marveled that he’d taken that long to see her in action.
Gods, she was amazing.
The bartender moved toward them, a ruby-haired fae dressed in the antiquated clothes of the bygone era of prohibition. Mercer’s jaw clenched, pretty sure that could be none other than the ginger Scarlett had mentioned earlier.
Me and You and a Ghost Named Boo Page 14
