Secret Unleashed sm-6

by Sierra Dean

  “Hello.” I raised my hand in a limp wave, and in spite of the fact he clearly knew who I was, I added, “I’m Secret.”

  “Yes, of course.” He bowed again. “Do you prefer Tribunal Leader Secret?”

  Lord have mercy, I was going to have to deal with a whole new group of people addressing me with the longest title known to man. But I knew from over a year with the East Coast council it was pointless to try getting them down to a first-name basis.

  “Tribunal Leader Secret is fine.” At least it was less formal than McQueen.

  “I will be your valet during your stay in Los Angeles, and I do hope if you have any needs or requests, you won’t hesitate to approach me with them. I sincerely apologize, as well, for treating you in such a common manner earlier. I beg your forgiveness.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Evidently he was worried because he continued to gnaw at his lip. He didn’t feel old to me, ignoring the youthful mask of his appearance. “Are you quite certain I cannot make amends in some way?”

  “Really, Maxime, it’s fine. I’m used to much stranger responses than that. No apologies necessary.”

  If he’d been breathing, he might have let out a sigh of relief, but his shift in demeanor was obvious nonetheless. His expression softened, and a smile curved his cupid’s-bow lips upwards.

  “How old are you?” I asked him.

  “One hundred and seventy-three.”

  He would have been turned sometime in the mid-1800s, not long after Holden had been. And he was French, and beautiful, and assigned to me. My own tentative smile faltered.

  “Who is your maker?” I’d been told once by Sig it was common practice for Tribunal Leaders and Council Elders to send their progeny far away to avoid conflicts of interest. I had a feeling I knew exactly whose spawn was my new man-in-waiting.

  “Rebecca Archambault.”

  My jaw clenched, and I gritted my teeth, biting back a growl. “Well then, Maxime, you can do me a favor.”

  “Yes, of course. Anything.”

  “Tell me where your brother is.”

  Maxime guided me to a set of oak doors not unlike those leading to the subterranean Tribunal chamber in New York. He bowed again—something he had a lot of practice with it seemed—and scurried away before I had a chance to go in.

  The uneasy feeling I had still lingered, making me wary to waltz into any unfamiliar rooms, but since I was in a city I’d never been to, all the rooms would be unfamiliar. I didn’t bother knocking because I figured anyone inside would have heard me coming, and why give them any extra heads up if they meant me harm?

  From what I’d gathered during my short chat with Maxime, I was likely at the West Coast council headquarters, but he hadn’t said anything during our walk to confirm my suspicions a hundred percent, and I hadn’t outright asked. If we were where I suspected we were, I was going to sound like an idiot for asking, and idiocy wasn’t the impression Sig wanted me to make.

  I opened the doors and stepped backwards rather than straight into the room. When nothing fired at me and no one lunged to attack, I decided it was safe to continue and went in with my head held high, projecting an air of authority I didn’t necessarily feel.

  “You look well rested.” It was Holden’s voice, but I couldn’t find the man to match it.

  I scanned the room and took in my surroundings as I searched for him. The space wasn’t at all what I expected from a vampire stronghold. For one thing, the floor-to-ceiling windows were out of step with protecting vampire safety.

  The massive space reminded me a great deal of the top floor in Lucas’s penthouse, where one half of the entire area was dedicated to a big lounge-style living room with an unbeatable view of New York. Only here the view wasn’t of my beloved hometown, it was the glittery oasis of Los Angeles.

  We must have been outside of the L.A. city limits because I could see most of the city sprawled out before us like a carpet of stars. What New York had in height, L.A. had in distance, spreading wider than I could see without shifting my position.

  I hadn’t expected to like L.A.—that was the snobby New Yorker in me—but there was something beautiful about it, lit up orange in the early night sky. What I didn’t enjoy was discovering we weren’t in the city proper. Judging from the vantage point, I gathered we had to be up in the Hollywood Hills somewhere, and my extensive research with Us magazine told me that would put our neighbors at a distance.

  Far enough away it would be difficult to get help.

  Not that humans were all that helpful.

  I sighed and continued to search the room for Holden. I found him nestled in a leather wingback chair near the fireplace—did every room in this building have a fireplace?—with his feet kicked up on an ottoman and a glass of whiskey in his hand.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” I snapped, unable to keep the irritation from my tone. I’d been well-behaved with Maxime, but I didn’t need to be polite to Holden. It might not have been nice of me, but my blood pressure was running sky-high, and I needed to project my anxiety onto someone. He was the best target because he’d still love me when I finished yelling at him.

  “Well, it’s only a ten-year-old blend, but aside from that I can’t complain.” He swished the amber liquid around in its lowball glass and smirked at me. We’d done this song and dance before, and apparently he didn’t feel the need to cower before my rage anymore.

  That took half the fun out of it.

  “Did you think it might be a bad idea to leave me on my own, locked inside a coffin when I woke up?” I crossed my arms, my gaze drifting from his smug facial expression to the drink. Damn that whiskey looked good.

  So did his face, but I wanted to think about something other than how handsome he was. It was hard to be mad at someone if you were busy musing over how pretty they were.

  “Want some?” He held the glass up to me, and I took it, swallowing some of the booze. The whiskey burned a friendly welcome glow from my throat down to my belly, soothing the savage beast within.

  “You knew how I felt about being in there,” I reminded him, my voice low and soft to keep any tremor out of my words.

  “Did you freak out?”

  I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or honestly wanted to know. “I did.”

  “I’m sorry.” For once he didn’t phrase it like a question. He sounded genuinely apologetic. “I didn’t plan to be gone long, and when I went back, Maxime said he had it under control.”

  “Ah, yes. About him…”

  “Don’t worry about Max.”

  “No offense, Holden, but ever since I killed Charlie I haven’t been Rebecca’s favorite person.” Never mind that Charlie Conaway had been a homicidal jackass, using his thrall to murder innocent girls. He’d also been Rebecca’s favorite based on her treatment of me following his death.

  “Max is different.”

  “How is he different?” I sat on the leather ottoman in front of him, our knees touching. He made a move like a flinch when I sat, but it seemed as though he wanted to move closer, not farther away. He reclaimed the glass from my hand and settled back into the chair.

  “I know you don’t like Rebecca much, but it’s clouding your opinion of her progeny. Have you forgotten she made me?”

  “Did you ever consider you’re the reason I have a negative bias about her spawn?” I countered, but couldn’t keep from smirking.

  “Now, now, Ms. McQueen. Keep talking like that and I’ll think you’re secretly in love with me.” He tried to smile, but it faltered, making the guilty feelings I thought I’d left in New York swell up all over again.

  What was I going to do with these boys? Why couldn’t we just have a nice, totally unrealistic, three-way live-in love relationship where Desmond cooked, Holden tidied and I brought home the bacon by bossing around every vampire on the East Coast.

  Was that too much to ask?

  I guess the fact vampires and werewolves hated each other, and my boys especially
hated each other, wasn’t going to help make my fantasy pipe dream a reality. If I tried to imagine what living with them both would be like, it was a horror movie and a television sitcom all rolled into one. Holden would constantly be making dog jokes, and Desmond wouldn’t ever stop reminding me Holden was dead. Not the most romantic scenario.

  And I only had myself to blame.

  Three months earlier I’d found myself in the unique position of being able to pick—once and for all—which of them I’d bind myself to for the rest of my life. I’d been human, and it was a clean slate. I could have spent my life with Desmond, a nice mortal life in the sun with babies and daylight and all the stuff I’d dreamed about having as a child.

  Or I could have let Holden bite me. I’d have been a real, full-blooded vampire, no longer a freak of nature to the Tribunal, and I could have spent eternity with the beautiful man sitting in front of me.

  So what did I do?

  I made a Devil’s bargain with the fairy king to be returned to my old self. Meaning I was back to square one and no closer to knowing which of them I should be with.

  I was like a kid in a candy store being told to pick between two delicious treats when I desperately wanted them both.

  “Sorry,” I whispered, not sure if I was apologizing for spacing out or loving him. I just felt the need to apologize. “You were telling me about Maxime.”

  “I was.”

  “Why should I trust him?”

  Holden gave the whiskey a thoughtful sniff. “Why should we trust anyone, really? I mean, what is trust but a leap of faith?”

  “I like to think of it as more of a currency.”

  “I trust him. Is that enough for you to invest?”

  I stuck my tongue out at him, having had my own analogy used against me.

  Holden continued, “I think Charlie gave you an unfair opinion of my siblings. You can’t let one insane movie star taint your entire perception of Rebecca’s offspring.”

  “I’m getting a good idea of her type, though.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yup. Deceptively handsome and wily as hell.”

  He smirked. “You think I’m handsome?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re missing the point.”

  “I never miss the point. You’re letting your experience with a rogue taint your opinion of an entire family line, and that’s not fair. Charlie was Rebecca’s first. I’m not saying I know much about the finer details of turning someone, but maybe something went wrong. Maybe she screwed it up. Or maybe he was just a fucking psycho in life.”

  Hadn’t I been thinking the same thing a day earlier? He was right, of course. I couldn’t assume every vampire sired by Rebecca would be the same as Charlie Conaway. Holden was noble, and good, even if he could be a giant pain in the ass. It wasn’t fair of me to question Maxime just because Rebecca had sired him.

  After all—when push came to shove—I knew Holden would pick me over Rebecca.

  But knowing my distrust was illogical wasn’t the same thing as changing my mind. Holden seemed to sense I was still hesitating because he set aside his glass and took both my hands in his. “Before I came to America there was a period of a few decades where it was just Maxime and me. Rebecca had gone off to make her mark in Spain with Charlie, and she’d left us—the weaker ones—behind in Paris. I can assure you with one hundred percent certainty Max will never, ever betray you.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because I told him what you are to me.”

  My hands went still, sweat pooling between my palms.

  “And what is that?”

  Holden leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on my lips before speaking. “The love of my life.”

  Chapter Ten

  Some girls probably got off on hearing they were the love of someone’s life. I was not one of those girls.

  Yes, I did feel a flutter at his words, and yes I did love him back, but goddamn these men were not making things easy on me. Between Desmond thinking I was his soul-bonded mate, Lucas thinking I was his werewolf queen, and Holden proclaiming me the love of his life? Well, it was too much lovey-dovey stuff for me to handle.

  “Why would you loving me make Maxime more trustworthy?” I asked, dodging his sentiment and pulling my hands free.

  If he was upset by my retreat, he didn’t show it.

  “Because it means you’re mine. And in vampire cultures, we protect that which belongs to us, and to our family.” He got to his feet, putting his crotch level with my face, and my cheeks warmed to recall what lay just beyond the barrier of his zipper.

  Bad Secret.

  Mustn’t think of blowjobs while having a serious discussion.

  He stepped away in the next instant, confirming he hadn’t been offering himself up to me.

  “When you say mine…” I let the question drift. I knew how the claiming policy worked when it came to humans, now that I was unintentionally in possession of a few, but I didn’t know what it meant when applied to another vampire.

  “It means exactly what it sounds like. I told him I’m here as your consort.”

  At first I thought of the phrase in a literal way, that Holden was here to assist me and be a part of my entourage. But as I let the deeper meaning of the word sink in, my eyebrows lifted in surprise.

  “Holden.”

  “Trust me, it’s for the best. If you were seen as being unattached, the council might attempt to use that. I’ve seen a lot of weird shit go down, and you don’t want an unfamiliar Tribunal trying to shack you up with a Council Elder in order to strengthen the bonds between the two communities. They tried it with Daria, and she was so appalled with who they saddled her with she ended up killing the guy.” Daria had been my predecessor in the Tribunal, and I believed she’d been more than capable of murdering an unsuitable mate.

  Holden was right, it would be a disaster if the West Coast council tried to force a vampiric lover on me. For starters, even a midlevel vampire would be stronger than me, and the second they realized that, I’d be dealing with an attempted assassination. My new lover could then claim a seat on the East Coast Tribunal, and that would be a disaster.

  If I let Holden act as my consort, it would be out of the question for the other vampires to play matchmaker.

  I hated to admit it, but it had been a genius move on his part.

  “Did you tell Sig you planned to do this?”

  Holden snorted. “Sig told me to do this.”

  Of course. Of course.

  “Might have been nice to know ahead of time. You were going to come with me regardless. What if someone had asked me and I was like, ‘Oh, Holden? We fooled around once, and he has a habit of kissing me at inappropriate times, but I don’t know if I’d call him my consort.’”

  “Fooled around?” Now he looked offended.

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist, you know what I mean.”

  “Well, blessedly that wasn’t an issue. But I do have a suggestion to make.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “It would help sell the story if you behaved as though I was your consort. Meaning it would look good if one of the beds in our suite went unused.”

  This time, the meaning of his words didn’t get by me. “You’re using this as an excuse to get in my pants while I’m away from Desmond, aren’t you?”

  He tried—and failed—to hide his smirk. “I’m merely making suggestions to help us convince others of our story. Of course, the vocal sounds of lovemaking would be hard to overlook and would make our union appear more legitimate.”

  “I’m not going to fuck you so some strange vampires believe we’re an item.”

  “I wasn’t saying that would be the only reason.”

  “You devious prick.” I got to my feet, kicking back the ottoman a few inches and trying to stand tall enough I might appear imposing to him. It was a lost cause since Holden rarely respected my authority over him. Probably because two years earlier he had outranked m
e. It was hard to blame him when we both knew he could physically dominate me.

  “How am I devious? The plan wasn’t mine.”

  “I’m sure Sig didn’t tell you to sleep with me.”

  “He told me to do whatever it took to keep you safe.”

  I snorted. “Way to twist his words around to serve your own purposes. Well done.”

  “Secret, I’m going to be frank here.” The smirk vanished, and a new seriousness replaced it. “I won’t ever ask you to do anything you don’t want to do, and you know that. But I am serious when I tell you people need to be convinced. It doesn’t need to be sex, and I haven’t forced that issue with you since we came back from Aubrey’s kingdom, but please don’t do anything to make them question us. I know you think this is a ploy, but it’s not. I’m trying to protect you, and this is the only way I can do it. But you need to help.”

  All the snippy retorts I’d been building up in anticipation of what he might say vanished. When Holden got serious he got really serious, and I took what he said to heart.

  I knew he would protect me at all costs, but I also figured he wasn’t above taking advantage. Now I felt guilty for assuming he was creating a lie solely to bed me. He was better than that.

  “Fine,” I said with a sigh. “But if you get handsy without permission, the only sounds people will hear through the walls will be you begging for mercy.”

  “Baby…if you do give me permission, I can say the same thing to you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ingrid arrived with two other daytime servants—a man and woman who both appeared to be in their early twenties—and put an end to any further smirking innuendo from Holden.

  “Tribunal Leader Secret.” Ingrid bowed, and the other two followed suit. Upon a longer inspection I started to think the new arrivals must be twins. They were each ginger-haired and fair-skinned, with similar facial features. Their close ages indicated that if they were not twins, they were definitely related. “I’d like to introduce Barton and Camille, the daytime servants of Tribunal Leaders Eyelee and Galen.”