by Michele Hauf
“My father is unreasonable. He’ll lie right to you, and then knife you in the back when you turn away.”
“A knife will do little but piss me off.”
“Be serious, please. What will you say to him?”
“I’ll think of something when I get there.”
“You’re being foolish, vampire.” She lifted a defiant chin. “You would never step into the fray without focus and careful strategy, like you always say.”
“Blu, sometimes we think different than we know. There’s no other course but to go to your father, the leader of the pack determined to head this battle.”
“Don’t do it. Not for Amandus. He’s a bastard. And I don’t want you to kill more wolves. If we’re going to sacrifice, then bring me back and let me serve as the breeding wolf he demands of me.”
The stroke of his fingers across her lips served as a wicked soothing to Creed’s troubled soul. Yes, he had a soul. It belonged to Blu now, as hers belonged to him. The blood bond had done that for them, mingled their souls in a manner.
“Don’t do that.” She shrugged from his touch. “I don’t want your tenderness now. You have to be smart. To stand for what you believe in, like the tribe and all those vampires my kind has killed in the blood sport.”
“I am doing just that!”
“But why must you sacrifice your life for it?”
He gripped her wrists. Her gray eyes flared and glinted with the vicious warning he’d seen on the night of the full moon. The proud werewolf princess had emerged from hiding to shine. That was why he loved her.
That was why he must protect her.
“No one will ever harm you again, Blu. As long as I breathe, I will protect you. You asked me to end this? I will.”
“Stupid alpha male.”
He chuffed out a smirking breath. “Gorgeous werewolf princess.”
“Idiot longtooth.”
“My heart.”
“Suicidal maniac,” her voice cracked.
“My wife.”
“Oh, my love.”
CREED STRODE ACROSS THE shadowed carport. It wasn’t hard to locate his car. The black BMW was now a convertible. The roof had been tossed somewhere west of the city. A trail of blood smeared across the dented hood.
He should have abandoned it in the countryside, but Blu had been so fragile; he’d needed to get her to safety. Now it sat here, hidden behind the huge SUV he’d rented to take him to the spell site earlier.
Flipping open the cell phone Blu had insisted he bring along, he called cleanup to dispose of the BMW. Then he tossed the pink bit of plastic and electronics into the backseat. He’d get her a new one and ensure the faery’s phone number was in it.
Reaching in the front seat, he drew out Wolfsbane, surprised it was still there.
“We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we? Fighting for kings, bounty hunting for the tribe. Slaying the enemy.”
An enemy he now regarded with abiding love. An enemy with brilliant gray eyes, a sexy smile and an appetite for Count Chocula and barely there lacy things.
An enemy who was no longer his enemy.
Be that as it may, he was not required to love the family or the pack because he loved Blu. Blu had made it clear Amandus was no real father. What he had done to his daughter and wife was not the way of any pack. And Amandus had known about Ryan’s involvement with the blood sport. The pack principal was corrupt.
Creed should have killed him when he’d had the chance at the banquet. But that would have put him on the same level as Amandus. He’d stopped himself short of drinking the wolf’s blood as the fight had raged around them. He hadn’t wanted that nasty taste in his mouth. Nor did he wish to go against Council wishes.
He should talk to Severo and allow the wolves to handle this amongst themselves. But it was too late. Amandus had pushed him too far.
Creed slashed Wolfsbane through the air. It cut without a sound, and he could feel the air molecules scream as they were parted. He’d not once swung this blade without wounding. Not once had he regretted a swing.
But Creed could no more kill Amandus now than he could kill any werewolf simply because he had once labeled them enemy. His opinion of their species had altered.
Most important, his wife had asked him not to kill another wolf.
He would do what he could to bridge the gap between the nations. For Blu.
He tossed Wolfsbane into the backseat and turned to stride away.
THE MOMENT HE SLAMMED into Park and stepped from the rental SUV, half a dozen wolves surrounded Creed. Musk sharpened the still night air. The pack members snarled and shouted obscenities at him.
Yeah, so he was a bloody longtooth. Wasn’t it time they got a new oath for the vampires?
“I walk peacefully,” Creed called. He held his arms out to reveal he bore no weapons. “I wish to speak to your principal, Amandus Masterson.”
“No vampires on the premises,” said one who wielded a machine gun with more piercing vitriol than a bullet. “You’ve got five seconds to get off the property, longtooth.”
Creed put up his hands in surrender. “I merely wish a talk.” Seriously? An assault rifle?
As a wolf charged him, Creed braced for impact. He took a head and shoulder to his gut, which toppled him to the ground. Dust rose about them as the wolf pounded his chest with rapid, lung-bruising punches.
“Cease!”
The attacking wolf whipped around his head to whoever had made the command.
Creed spit and leaned up on an elbow.
“Bring him in!” called a voice from the compound’s dark interior.
The wolves glanced from one to another, not at all pleased with the order.
“Diaz, off him!”
His punisher, with one last kick to Creed’s side, jumped off. Creed stood, questioning the wisdom he’d employed in coming here alone, but knowing this was the only way to do it.
He hoped to survive to see Blu again. But if he did not, he would go down ensuring her safety.
The one called Ridge patted Creed down, hands tracking his sides and legs. He fisted Creed in the ribs. The impact took his breath, but Creed merely winced.
“You must have a death wish,” Ridge muttered, and shoved him forward.
AMANDUS MASTERSON STOOD ten paces from Creed in the massive room that looked like an emptied factory. Tumescent duct piping ran two stories above the cement floors. Glass block windows set high in cement walls let in little light. Shoved against the far wall were old machines that looked pre-twentieth century for the huge gears and leather pulleys.
Congregating behind the pack principal stood eight wolves, each a physical specimen of strength and seething anger. A riot of musk and aggression tainted the air. If he so much as flinched, Creed suspected one of the dogs would growl.
Their numbers were large for a pack. On average a pack was six or eight males strong, though he’d known the rare pack to be as large as twenty. And he had killed three in the compound last night. Obviously the wolves had not suffered so much as they wished the vampires to believe.
But the fact remained, there were no females. And that was directly related to the vampires hunting their breed many decades earlier.
Creed inhaled and bowed before Amandus, his hands clasped before him. “Principal Masterson. I come to you not as the leader of tribe Nava, nor as a representative of the vampire nations.”
Amandus tilted a wicked sneer at him and crossed his arms high on his chest. The old wolf would not be so easily impressed. Below his Adam’s apple, the flesh was bruised and scarred. Creed had begun to rip the old man’s throat out at the banquet, but he couldn’t complete the job. He was Blu’s father, after all.
“I come to you as your daughter’s husband. A man concerned only for her well-being.”
Snorts and snickers from the wolves echoed in the vast building. Creed did not look away from Amandus’s dour sneer.
As Blu had guessed, Creed was winging this. He didn’t need
a plan. His heart would show him the way.
“It was you who gave her to me, Principal. You who offered your daughter to a vampire. That was a bold gesture. An immense sacrifice. And we all know neither side expected the other to submit to the pact of peace. It was a game. A stupid game.”
“Not stupid,” Amandus hissed.
“But certainly a folly.”
The werewolf grudgingly gave an agreeing nod to the foolishness of it all. “Get on with it, longtooth. I tire of your company already. If I must endure your stench, then make it good, and make it quick.”
Dropping to his knees, Creed bowed his head. The wolves had formed into a half circle before him and he could sense the curiosity over his move. As well, he could feel their bloodlust. It was so thick, he could bite it from the air and spit it at them.
At a time when he wished to wield Wolfsbane, or even magic, he could only trust his heart would lead him through this.
“I humble myself before the pack,” he offered. “What has gone on for centuries between the vampires and werewolves has always been accepted as how things are. Now I find it unacceptable. It pains me to see us go at one another with no more reason than the lust for blood and vengeance. We have, both sides, committed heinous crimes against the other.”
“We have never hunted and skinned vampires alive,” Amandus said sharply.
No, but they did force vampires to kill one another, which was an equally heinous crime.
“You owe us much land, vampire.”
“The lands the vampires have purchased have been done so in a legal process.”
“By a Council prejudice to the wolves, you know that,” Amandus hissed.
That could be true. But if more wolves chose to serve on the Council—No. Now was no time for picking at stupid details.
Amandus stepped forward and bent to meet Creed’s gaze. “You have tainted my daughter, longtooth.”
“If you choose to see it that way, then I certainly have. If loving someone is harmful or tainted, yes, I am guilty. Do not forget you offered her in this game of deceit.”
Amandus hissed. “She means nothing to me now. She has broken our bargain.”
“I did that. Not her. It was I who stole her from the compound. I took her from chains.” His heart ached to recall the silver shackles about Blu’s wrist. “One does not chain someone they care about.”
“Do not presume to tell me how to treat my offspring!”
“Of course not.” Yes, he must watch his anger. This was his last hope. “I do not know the ways of the pack.”
“You never will. Why try, vampire? There is no way you can make reparations for the land. For our lost generations!”
“Nor can the wolves atone for the lives they have enslaved and forced to fight to the death.”
Amandus scoffed. “You murdered Ryan. As well as two others from my pack.”
It would serve no good to explain that Ryan’s death had been an accident and the others self-defense. The principal knew that.
Nava had lost two vampires during the fight. All was fair in war. As well, he would not bring up the wolf’s murdered wife. That may push him over the edge. It was a crime he must answer to eventually, but now was not the time.
“Please, Principal, I sense you wish this to end, too. We’ve lost too many of our own.” Spreading his arms to expose his heart, Creed asked, “What can I do?”
“Take his life,” muttered a wolf from the pack. Another cried, “Kill the longtooth.”
Amandus paced before him, his heels scuffing the floor. “I would ask for my daughter back, but as I’ve said, she is ruined and of no use to me now.”
Interesting. Because Blu could return to the pack, mate with a wolf and have many werewolf children, Creed felt sure. That the principal put such spite to the vampire taint made him wonder about his efforts now.
“Your death would mean little. I see no significance whether you are a tribe leader or a common bloodsucker.”
The wolf knew he was an elder, one who possessed magic, and should be more fearsome. He must take pride in the fact he’d been the one to see Creed shackled.
“You may have something,” Amandus finally conceded. “I do wish this to settle. Losing pack numbers is difficult. We are few as it is. The River pack lost a female in the battle last night.”
Creed bowed and shook his head.
“My daughter refuses to play her part repopulating the pack. Useless bitch.”
Creed winced. She was the most incredible creature in his world. But a man so insensible as Amandus could never see that. Feeling his neck heat and his muscles tense, he cautioned himself against the simmering rage.
“You agree to sacrifice for peace?” Amandus said suddenly.
Creed looked at the man. What sacrifice had the man in mind?
Did it matter?
Your death will leave me alone. Is that how you show me your love?
He couldn’t die, could not abandon Blu.
But he was so close. He could feel the end near. The end to battle, the killing, the war. Was one simple sacrifice all that was required?
It would never completely dissipate the hatred between the nations. But if the revered Northern pack stepped from the vanguard, other packs would follow, as well, the tribes would.
“You vow that Blu will be free from the pack to live as she chooses?”
“So be it,” the principal muttered. “She is free.”
“Then I agree,” Creed said. Though what he agreed to, he didn’t know.
Amandus whistled sharply, bringing his first man to his side. “One thousand talons!”
Ridge nodded and grinned a toothy snarl at Creed.
Others gathered in a line flanking Amandus. The wolves shifted, their bodies bulking and lengthening, talons growing from their fingers, and fur rippling across their bodies as clothing tore and fell from their furred limbs.
His own hackles prickling, Creed winced at the acrid odor of musk and aggression.
Amandus motioned Creed to stand. “You survive this, vampire, and you have my word on peace. You will have atoned for Eugene Ryan’s death and the injury you gave me. And, despite my utter disgust for your kind, you will have earned the right to call my daughter wife.”
The first strike happened without warning. Icy pain cut across Creed’s chest. The lead wolf slashed a talon through him.
He was immortal. A vampire who healed rapidly, and could not die unless his heart was staked and his head removed. But immortality did not mean he didn’t feel pain. He felt it acutely, perhaps more than the average mortal because of his heightened senses. A cut to flesh sizzled like a hive of bee stings.
The second talon burned through the flesh strapping his abdomen, searing through muscle and meat and drawing hot blood. Creed clamped his jaw tight, fighting the need to release an agonizing yowl. He would remain standing. He must.
For Blu.
Quickly and fiercely, the wolves took turns, each of their slashes made with surgical precision. All growled wickedly to deliver the blow, and then chuckled as their evil task was completed and they filed to the back of the never-ending line.
A slash across Creed’s thigh cut the artery. A talon at his cheek cut into his mouth, scratching a tooth. A bicep muscle was torn, snapping painfully like sliced rubber.
It was the most agonizing pain. It burrowed deep, electrifying his nerves. An unending pain formed from hell. Twenty times worse than the shackles.
Yet, as the twentieth and thirtieth slashes were delivered, the first slashes began to heal. New flesh was reopened and tormented over and over again.
How could he endure the one thousand talons Amandus had called for?
Creed lost count somewhere around ninety-eight. He staggered but remained standing in the blood that pooled at his feet. Occasionally he cried out. The pain was too fierce not to shout, to attempt to alleviate or redirect the fire of agony. Once he put up a hand to block a slash, and the talon cut through his palm.
A werewolf romped around behind him and began to work on a new set of slashes.
Chapter Twenty-Three
RIDGE DELIVERED THE five hundredth slash across the vampire’s bloodied bones. How the vampire still managed to kneel on all fours was beyond him. Occasionally he’d cried out the princess’s name.
Was love so powerful then?
He swung to face Amandus and shifted from werewolf form to half were shape so he could speak. Spitting away sweat and blood from his lips, he then said, “Enough. No wolf has survived this long.”
“I’ll say it’s enough when we’ve reached one thousand,” Amandus spit. “Insubordinate.”
Covered with the vampire’s blood, Ridge shook his head, flinging droplets from his soaked hair. He cast a weary glance over his comrades, all red with blood and heaving from exhaustion. Reluctant now, they all had lost the vigor for vengeance.
“No,” Ridge said, and stepped to the principal. “The vampire has proved his worth. He’s survived. He does this for peace, and for your daughter.”
“Do you dare to disobey me?” Amandus growled lowly. Of the wolves in the room he alone had not shifted to werewolf shape at all.
Ridge nodded. “The vampire has earned the princess. And peace between the packs and the tribes. You don’t like it?”
“Not exactly—”
One swipe of Ridge’s bloodied paw took Amandus Masterson’s head from his neck. The principal’s body slumped. And the pack nodded silently, respectful of Ridge’s act.
“TAKE HIM OUT OF HERE.”
Creed could barely make out sounds. Blood beat loudly in his ears, muffling the world. He could not smell anything but his own acrid, meaty blood.
A were’s face appeared above him, floating, or maybe Creed could not focus. It was the one called Ridge. He was no longer in werewolf form.
