Rogue (Sons of Sangue Book 4)

by Patricia A. Rasey

  The door to the meeting room remained closed, probably why Kane couldn’t scent his twin. The room had been soundproofed for private meetings such as the one called today. It also kept them from being able to scent who was in attendance.

  Kane nodded at Alexander and Ryder, who acknowledged his arrival with a tip of their chins. Alexander pointed at the meeting room with his long neck. “Hawk said to tell you to go on in. They’re waiting on you.”

  His brow creased. “They?”

  A hint of a smile crossed Alexander’s lips. “Your grandfather’s here. He arrived about an hour ago.”

  “Shit,” Kane replied. He doubted whatever Vlad Tepes had to say or what brought him back to Pleasant, Oregon was going to be good. The old ruler didn’t leave his island off Belize unless he had a damn good reason.

  Kane didn’t bother knocking. He pushed down the handle and swung the heavy wooden door open. Both Kaleb and Vlad looked up as he entered the space, closing the door behind him. Neither seemed to be in a good mood. Awesome. It was bad enough having to deal with a surly Kaleb on his own. Add in one pissed off primordial and it no doubt spelled trouble.

  Pulling out his chair, he sat and clasped his hands on the tabletop, his gaze taking in the half empty bottle of Gentleman Jack. “Do I at least get to knock one back before you two decide to rake me over the coals?”

  One of Kaleb’s brows rose. “Guilty much?”

  “Why else would I get called here for a last-minute meeting and be told to come alone?”

  Kaleb lifted the bottle of Jack, grabbed one of the empty rocks glasses, and filled it. He slid the tumbler across the table to Kane. Kane took it to his lips and downed the contents.

  “Now that’s more like it.” He glanced at Vlad. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Grandfather?”

  Kane couldn’t get a read on Vlad’s black gaze, but the set line of his mouth told Kane the old ruler wasn’t pleased about whatever brought him here. “Mircea’s gone missing.”

  No beating around the bush. “What do you mean missing? Don’t you keep regular tabs on your brother?”

  “Of course. Someone has to. The man is a danger to himself.” Vlad glowered. “And since I took his stepdaughter’s head, he hasn’t been his same docile self. I put one of my men on him, to report back to me should Mircea do something stupid, like leave Italy.”

  “You forbid him to leave?” Kane grabbed the whiskey bottle from Kaleb and poured himself another couple of fingers. He quickly downed it, feeling the answering warmth. “I’m sure you giving him orders went over about as well as you taking Rosalee’s head. By the way, thank you for that.”

  “You’re welcome. I should’ve ended her ungrateful life years ago. But out of reverence for my brother, I allowed her to live. I see now that was a mistake.” His expression hardened. “To say Mircea is not pleased with me is an understatement. I figured as much. His animosity toward me is nothing new. Mircea and my father left my brother Radu and me imprisoned by the Turks. I forgave him of his treachery when I turned him, but the fool feels Rosalee’s demise was my way of getting even.”

  Kaleb shook his head. “Talk about turning a blind eye. The idiot refused to see his stepdaughter was a deceitful bitch who needed to die. So what does Mircea missing have to do with us exactly?”

  Vlad’s lips drew back in a snarl. “I don’t think I have to tell you that Mircea will likely want an eye for and eye, which means he will stop at nothing less than seeing to one of your deaths. I’m not about to allow that happen.”

  “Good to know.” One side of Kaleb’s lips inched up. “But I don’t intend to allow him the satisfaction. I took Alec Funar’s head. I’ll take his. It matters to me none.”

  “Which could give him reason to make you his target, Kaleb.” Vlad’s brow raised. “He allowed the killing of a primordial to pass because you were my grandson, and because Alec deserved his execution. However, now that I have taken Rosalee’s head, he’ll come gunning for yours or Kane’s. I wanted to warn you both to keep on the lookout. If he so much as tries to hurt either of you, he will rue the day I gave him immortal life.”

  Kaleb easily shrugged off the threat. Kane, on the other hand, knew Mircea would be damn near impossible to defeat on their own. He was older, and therefore much stronger than him or his brother put together. If they were to defeat the man, they’d have to come up with a good plan — that or completely blindside him.

  “So what do you want us to do?” Kane leveled his gaze on his grandfather. “Surely, you don’t expect us to do nothing.”

  “On the contrary,” Vlad said, one black brow arching. “If he so much as steps out of line, I expect you to kill the son of a bitch. He’s my last sibling, and I’d rather talk sense into his damn head. But if he tries to kill one of you, then I came to give you my blessing to take the arrogant ass out. I’ve given him more than enough chances over the past few centuries. He hasn’t learned a damn thing.”

  Kaleb sat back in his chair and laced his fingers over his chest. A genuine smile crossed his face. “Best damn news I’ve heard all day. It would be my pleasure to end the bastard’s life.”

  “He won’t be easy to defeat,” Vlad reminded them. “This is no time to be cocky, Kaleb. Arrogance will get you killed. Mircea may have been sitting on his ass for the last few centuries, but trust me, he holds the power of many men.”

  “Duly noted, Grandfather. I will make sure my brother doesn’t do anything stupid.” Kane turned his gaze on Kaleb. “Club P or not, you need to include me on anything that has to do with Mircea.”

  “I’m confident, not stupid,” Kaleb returned. “The three of us will keep an open line of communication. If any one of us suspect Mircea is near, then we need to make sure we all know. If we are to defeat this bastard, then we shall do it as a united front.”

  “That goes without saying, Hawk,” Kane said. “You will need to keep a very close eye on Stefan. He may skip us entirely and try to take out your son. I don’t think it’s safe for you to stay at the clubhouse. We can move Wolf into your room. You and Suzi can move into the second bedroom of our house.”

  Kaleb shook his head. “I’d prefer a place of our own, if you don’t mind. Cara’s not exactly enamored with me.”

  “We’re safer if we stay together for now. We have our mates to think of as well.”

  “And with your plan, we’re also putting all our eggs into one basket,” Kaleb argued. “I’ll find a place that only the Sons, you, and grandfather will know about. I’ll begin looking immediately.”

  “Good.” Vlad stood. “See that you make the move soon. I’ll be in touch. Hopefully, I will find Mircea before he makes it to Pleasant.”

  “You’ll be the first person we notify if we get word of his whereabouts.” Kaleb stood, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. “I’ll begin looking for a safe place for my son and mate.”

  “Make sure you tell no one other than those you trust.”

  “I’ll be careful, Grandfather.”

  Vlad tipped his head. “Stay safe. I pray I find the bastard first. I’d prefer to keep this less messy… Well, less messy for my family. As for Mircea, on the other hand, I’ll make no such promise. He either goes back to Italy, or I’ll make sure he doesn’t live to see another day.”

  “His death will be plenty messy if I have anything to say about it,” Kaleb added. “This meeting is adjourned.”

  * * *

  Being back in Pleasant had been much harder than Anton had anticipated. Maybe he should call it a day, pack his shit, and head south. Having left Kimber’s little farmhouse earlier in the day, he couldn’t help the anger, and yes, jealousy from working its way beneath his skin. Needing to see Grigore and Alexander again, he headed for the Rave. The image of Grigore’s hand on the small of Kimber’s back played about his head, steaming him.

  Hadn’t he already lost one woman to a brother?

  Tamera Cantrell never really belonged to him, and he knew it, but it didn’t mean the hurt was
n’t still there. Maybe it always would be. Anton let himself in the backroom of the nightclub, walked around the haphazard furniture, and headed straight for the bar. He wasn’t playing by the rules tonight. Draven might not be happy with him entering the club, but he had a few things that needed to be said. Should it cause a fight between him and his former brothers, so be it. He wasn’t about to allow either of them to put their hands on Kimber. She wasn’t only off-limits to him, but all Sons. She was a human, for crying out loud. If he wasn’t the one dicking her, then no one was.

  He caught the scent of not only Grigore, Alexander, and Draven, but also Joseph “Kinky” Sala. Great. Now Joseph would be a witness to his meltdown as well. He could still save face, get the hell out of town, and no one would be the wiser of his feelings for the librarian. He may not admit as much out loud, but he couldn’t deny the longing in his chest. He wanted one day what the twins had, what Grayson had. The idea Grigore might try to put more than his hand on Kimber again, if nothing more than to further piss off Anton, kept him moving forward.

  He swung the door open, seeing his brothers at the bar, none too happy. No doubt they had already detected his presence the minute he hit the back door. None of them greeted him, nor did he expect them to, but the looks leveled on him wished him dead, cutting him deep. Damn Cara for making him deceive his comrades — his closest friends and allies. Not that he didn’t understand her reasoning, but it still sucked ass.

  He stepped beside Draven, who looked ready to bolt at a moment’s provocation. He had no idea Anton worked undercover to keep his sorry ass safe either. For all Draven knew, World War III was about to break out in his bar, three vampires to one. The music blared, keeping most bar patrons oblivious to the turmoil brewing.

  “Rogue…” Draven let the warning hang.

  He ignored it. “Keep your hands off Kimber James, Wolf. That is if you want to keep that big paw of yours attached.”

  One brow raised in challenge, but Anton knew Grigore wasn’t in the least distressed over the threat. “Who the fuck is that and why would I want to fuck her?”

  Grigore had that rugged look chicks dug. He wasn’t handsome by any means, but women seemed to like his shoulder-length, unkempt hair and beard. A long scar cut across his forehead and into his eyebrow, one he had received before his turning. His vampire genes would have kept a wound from leaving even the faintest of marks. Grigore would never be accused of being a pretty boy. Alexander on the other hand…

  “You seemed to know who she was last night. You had your hands all over her.”

  A lopsided smile tipped up the corner of his beard. “The leggy brunette you chased off last night.”

  “Yes, that one.”

  “It’s probably that new fucking hairdo that chased her off. You were much more comely as a blond.”

  “Fuck you, Wolf.”

  Heat rose up his spine and he clenched his fists at his sides. It wouldn’t take much to leap over the bar and hand Grigore’s ass to him, but then he knew he’d be fighting off two other brothers as well. Anton stayed put.

  “I don’t recall seeing a dog tag around her neck with your name on it, Rogue,” Grigore challenged him. “Nor do I recall a donor necklace. So last I knew, she was off-limits to you as well.”

  “She doesn’t belong to me.”

  “Then why the fuck come out here and act as if I was hitting on your old lady. You got something you want to tell us?” His hand did a sweeping motion of the two brothers at his side. Joseph and Alexander said nothing, true to form. Though they rarely chimed in, that didn’t make either of them less of a threat.

  “Last I recall, you need our vote in order to take on a mate. And unless she’s a donor, not about to happen. Besides the fact, I’m not in a charitable enough mood to offer you anything. I’m thinking a vote for you wouldn’t go favorably … not as a Devil,” he spat the last word with contempt.

  “I don’t believe I asked your permission to fuck her, Wolf.” He braced his hands on the bar and leaned forward. “I’m not looking for a woman at the moment, since I’m still pretty miffed my last mate was taken from me.”

  Alexander sat back and crossed his muscled arms over his chest. He may be pretty, but he definitely had the body to back up his mouth. Where Anton thought he could take on Grigore and easily win, Alexander would give him a workout.

  “You said yourself you never fucked Tamera,” Alexander pointed out. “So I don’t think, technically, she was ever your mate, Blondy.”

  “Rogue.”

  “What the fuck ever.” Alexander bared his fangs, showing he had been anything but docile as he sat there watching the exchange between Anton and Grigore. “You will always be Blondy to me, regardless of how you change your appearance. One day I hope you come to your fucking senses and realize you’re a Son, not a Devil. Everyone else here may have given up on you, but I haven’t. You’re hurting. I get that.”

  Alexander’s faith in him warmed his cold chest. At least one brother believed he wasn’t capable of defecting. Unfortunately, he had to do his best to prove Alexander wrong.

  “Sorry to disappoint, Xander. I’m a Devil right down to the cut I wear. Tamera was mine to keep. Grayson had made his decision to not take her as a mate when he dumped her on my doorstep, then rescinded. Not part of the original deal with Vlad. Not a single one of you ever considered the fact I might be in love with her.”

  “And just like that,” Alexander said with a slight nod, “you let her go.”

  Anton growled. “Vlad gave me no choice.”

  Alexander shook his head. “Whatever, dude. If it were me, I would’ve fought Vlad for her. Say what you want, you didn’t love her. Not like Gypsy. He would’ve given his life up to fight for his woman. Not you, you turned tail and headed for California. But now? You’re willing to take on all three of us for this new woman. Interesting.”

  Anton couldn’t believe how very close to the truth Alexander had come. Hell, he wasn’t willing to fight Grayson for Tamera, and yet, here he stood ready to take out any vampire who dared to touch Kimber. Too bad the woman he felt worth fighting for was off-fucking-limits.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Anton pushed off the bar and stood straight, squaring his shoulders. “Regardless of what I might think about her, she doesn’t know about vampires. I couldn’t take her as a mate if I wanted to.”

  “Unless I bring her into the donor society,” Draven spoke up.

  His words damn near froze Anton’s blood. No one would put their fangs into Kimber’s arteries. “Don’t fucking think about it, Draven. She doesn’t donate her blood here. Not up for discussion. And if you value your puny little ass, you best listen to my directive. Kimber James is not donor material.”

  Anton leveled his gaze back on his former brothers. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

  Grigore’s chuckle followed him when Anton turned and left the bar, slamming the door. He could hear the moving of bar stools as the three got up to leave. Good. They might not like him much at the moment, but he doubted any of them would go after what they thought another brother might want. And Anton definitely wanted Kimber, even if there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  Taking in a deep breath, he headed for the exit and stepped into the twilight. Anton stepped over the leather seat of his bike, turned the key, and gassed the engine. After donning his helmet, he pointed the bike for the front of the club. Grigore, Alexander, and Joseph exited the front entrance and headed for their Harleys parked near the door. He slowed his Road King as he approached them. Just before reaching them, something whizzed past his ear and slammed into Joseph Sala’s forehead, knocking him back a few feet. Brain matter and blood spattered the bricks. It had been a clean shot, meant to stop his brain and heart simultaneously. A shot meant to kill… One meant to take out a vampire.

  A roar left his lips as he kicked down the stand, threw his helmet to the ground, and hit the ground running for his fallen brother. Moisture filled his eyes.

  Wha
t the fuck?

  By the time Anton reached Joseph’s side, Alexander had cradled his body against his side. What was left of Joseph’s head rolled back across Alexander’s arm. Grigore blocked Anton from reaching out. His beefy palms checked his chest and pushed him backward.

  “If you had anything to do with this…”

  Anton batted his hands away. “Are you fucking serious?”

  “One of your brothers…” Grigore let the accusation hang.

  “If one of my brothers took Kinky’s life, I promise you that I will take his.”

  Grigore swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his eyes glassed over with tears. “Son of a bitch. You find out, Blondy. I want to know who did this.”

  Anton rubbed a hand down his jaw, attempting to hold his own grief at bay. “If it was a Devil responsible, Wolf, the son of a bitch won’t live to draw another breath. I promise you that.”

  With one last look at Joseph lying prone in Alexander’s arms, Anton swiped at the lone tear running down his cheek, turned, and headed for his bike. Christ, Joseph was one of the good guys. If he found out anyone in the Devils ordered the hit on Joseph, he’d take out the whole fucking club with his bare hands, undercover work be damned.

  Chapter 6

  “What the fuck is he doing here?” Kaleb’s tone spoke of obvious contempt. Apparently, a year did little to abate his opinion. “Only Sons are allowed in the clubhouse.”

  “I invited him.” Grigore squared his shoulders, standing just inches from the club president. He never had been one to back down from authority. Respect, yes, but if Grigore didn’t agree with a decision, he wasn’t one to go along with it just because the hierarchy made a ruling. “I think he needs to be here, P.”