by Aline Hunter
The hand on her wrist vanished, the world came into sharp focus and Ava stumbled slightly. Muffled curses and angry voices brought her attention to the floor, past the heads of those moving out of the way. Diskant was plowing through the unfortunate victims in his path as if they didn’t exist. Directly beside him was Trey, and his expression was equally terrifying, his level stare locked onto the beautiful blonde vampire standing beside her.
Time to go. Take care, Ava Brisbane.
Ava turned to ask the vampire how she knew so much about her, her parents and their connection. When she did an empty hallway greeted her. She gaped at the vacant space, stunned to find she was alone.
“Damn it, Ava,” Diskant’s loud snarl was the only warning she got before she was lifted from the ground and hoisted into his chest.
Trey barreled past them, nostrils flaring as he scented the air. A loud growl carried down the hallway and when Diskant turned so that she could see, Ava froze. The former Alpha looked absolutely feral, his canines prominent, eyes sharp with bared claws visible. He rotated in a circle in the exact spot the vampire had vacated.
“Where are you?” Trey continued to turn, eyes wild.
“Trey,” Diskant warned.
“I know she’s still here.” He stopped circling and faced them, opening and closing his fists. “I can fucking smell her.”
Ava, Diskant whispered in her mind, preparing her for what he was about to do.
She reacted as he expected and opened the connection between them. Diskant was an Alpha but his true power resided in his ability as an Omega. He was for all intents and purposes a peacekeeper and could manipulate emotions to soothe the beast within those around him. Now, with her help, he could replace anger and loathing with serenity, peace and calm.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Trey snarled as Diskant’s power washed through him an extended outward.
“Sorry, man,” Diskant said.
Trey’s enflamed, amber-hued irises slowly changed, becoming a whiskey-colored brown. The claws at the tips of his fingers receded, as did his canines, and his shoulders went from tense to relaxed.
I hate it when they fucking do that. Trey’s private thought sounded as exhausted as he looked. He turned from them without another word and made his way toward the bar.
Diskant lowered Ava to the ground and bowed over her, an angry glint in his eyes. “I swear to Christ, if you don’t start listening to me I’m going to tan your sweet fucking hide in front of god and everyone.”
“She didn’t mean me any harm. You’re going to have to—”
She yelped when he swept her off her feet and started walking down the hallway, toward the restrooms. “What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, wriggling on his shoulder.
He remained silent as he stomped into the bathroom, sat her down and locked the door behind him. The look in his eyes said it all but it was his voice that set her blood on fire and caused her body to sizzle.
He approached her slowly, stalking her inside the tiny room. “I’m about to show you who’s boss, baby.”
Ava met the challenge with a grin, advanced on him just as intentionally and placed her hands flat on his oven-warm chest. “You’re more than welcome to try, lover.”
* * * * *
Trey stared at the door to the men’s room, where his best friend was undeniably getting his fuck on, as he downed the rest of his beer, tasting nothing, drowning some odd emotion he couldn’t describe. Even with Diskant’s assistance, something continued to linger, a presence hovering just out of his reach that he could perceive yet never quite touch.
He closed his eyes when he felt that odd, ghostly impression of a hand against his nape, stroking him as if he were a child who needed comfort. The whispering fingers wound down his neck, flitting down his spinal column until they vanished for a moment and returned to repeat the caress.
Caress? Who was he kidding? The feeling was nothing more than a figment of his imagination. Wishful fucking thinking. Maybe he was losing his mind. Perhaps the loss of his brethren was too much.
No, the soft, feminine voice he knew so well from his dreams argued. You’re not losing your mind.
Then why did it feel like it? Why was he so unhinged? So desperate for a phantom who didn’t exist? Unexpectedly, his thoughts turned to the female who’d dared touch Diskant’s mate. He’d seen her only once before and had mistakenly assumed she was…
Well, something that a vampire could never be.
“Take it easy, brother.” Emory’s deep voice drew him from his thoughts and Trey lifted his head in time to see him slide into the seat beside him. “We’ve got a long drive tomorrow.”
“Last one,” Trey muttered and downed the remnants from the mug, swishing that final, bitter taste in his mouth. Talk about things coming full circle. How fitting that Emory would now be the calm one while he was now the loose screw?
“You won’t return with me once the dust settles?” Emory asked, staring straight ahead.
The ghostly feeling of fingers brushing his neck ceased, as if the phantom at his back was eager to know the answer as well. He shivered at the loss of contact and quickly cursed himself for sliding into dementia—once again—quite willingly.
“You already know the answer to that question.” Raising his hand, Trey signaled to the bartender that he wanted another beer by lifting his mug.
Emory turned concerned eyes in his direction. “I thought you said that was the last one.”
Trey was tempted to tell his sibling that this was his last one, his final hurrah. The pack was saying goodbye but what they didn’t know was that he was saying farewell too. There was no chance he was returning, not after what he planned to do. The Shepherds had no idea what they’d done, didn’t have a clue of the hell which was about to descend on them. He hoped they continued to say their prayers, because when his final brand of justice arrived he didn’t plan on sparing any of them.
Not a single one.
“I did,” Trey said, accepting the new, frothy beverage. “Didn’t I?”
“Trey…”
“Let me enjoy my beer, Emory.” He brought the mug to his lips.
After a moment Emory stood and Trey watched him walk through the crowd and disappear as he made his way back to the pack.
What a miserable fist fuck this had become. He’d dreamed of moments like the one he could have just shared with his brother—without fighting, without recrimination—but he was too warped in the head to maintain any sort of casual conversation. If he wasn’t frothing at the mouth for blood he was drooling for a trace of the scent of a fucking vampire.
When that comforting touch returned to his skin, gentle and pacifying, he allowed himself to enjoy the warming caress for a moment before he swatted at his neck until there was nothing to distract him but the heat of the club, the throb of the music and the iciness of the mug in his hand.
Soon he would put this all behind him.
Soon he would lay them all to rest.
He lifted the glass, brought it to his lips and drowned the contents.
Soon…
The End
About the Author
Aline Hunter is the alias of multi-published author J.A. Saare, who has written stories featured in horror magazines, zombie romance anthologies and flash fiction contests. Her work has a notable dark undertone, which she credits to her love of old eighties horror films, tastes in music and choices in reading, and has been described as “full of sensual promise,” “gritty and sexy” and “a breath of fresh air.”
Currently she is penning multiple projects within the urban fantasy, erotic and contemporary, and paranormal romance categories.
Aline welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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