by Nikki Sex
My vampire says nothing, but appears to be regaining his composure. He runs a hand through his black wavy hair, a nervous display I’ve never seen from him.
“If I fulfill your tasks,” he finally asks, “and I do everything you wish, in time will you free me from your enchantment?”
Hell, no!
But I say, “Maybe. I’ll think about it. Any other questions?”
“You are demon-possessed, yet you are not evil.”
“True. What’s your question?”
“What are your plans for me? What do you intend to make me do?”
“I don’t have any plans for you. I intend to return to my life. I actually like my job at MacLeod International, and I like the people I work with. For the first time ever, I’m in love. I want to marry Stafford. I want to have his babies. I want to be as normal as is “inhumanly” possible.”
I snicker at my silly quip of a joke, but he doesn’t crack a smile.
He looks at me, as icily distant as ever. I don’t mind—I know it’s an act. My vampire is madly, passionately, devoted to me.
“And what does your demon want?” he asks.
“My demon? Right now, he’s on board with my plans. He also really likes you. He liked you right from the start. Isn’t that funny? I don’t know why.”
This startles my vampire into a shocked silence.
I decide to change the subject. “Do you realize you’re a powerful empath?”
He stiffens, but says nothing.
“Alrighty then. Another subject for another day.” I stand and walk to him. “Take me to Coquitlam, where the Beast Lord will find me quickly and easily. Make it someplace warm, maybe an all-night diner.”
“Yes, Ms. St. John.”
He pulls out his phone, searches Google and finds, would you believe it, a place called “Truck Stop Diner” on 1st Avenue on the way out of Vancouver. He shows me the place on Google maps.
“Perfect,” I tell him.
The instant he clasps my wrist, we both gasp from a sensual jolt of electricity. It doesn’t hurt, but something happened. I pull away and peer upwards, meeting his striking blue gaze.
“What was that?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I have no idea.”
“Try again.”
This time when he grips my wrist, nothing happens. He places his arm around my waist, and flashes me exactly where I want to be.
Chapter 80. Beast Lord
It’s two a.m. as I pay for my coffee with the cash my very own Jugulo gave me. I walk outside the diner to pace and wait. I’m buzzed on adrenaline, thinking of the Beast Lord. I can’t wait to see him!
It’s October. The sky is beautiful, velvet black and clear. Even with city lights, the stars shine brightly overhead along with a quarter-moon. An icy wind blows, yet the thought of seeing Stafford again keeps me warm inside.
I’ve spent the last two months’ underground. Is it any wonder, despite the cold, I love the freedom of open space?
I’m so excited! I don’t recall ever being this ecstatic. My joy comes from knowing all I have to live for. I’m so grateful. So appreciative of how wonderful life is. I’m aware of exactly how lucky I am.
When I look back on this turning point in my life, it seems unbelievable how many screamingly obvious signs of impending disaster went unnoticed. Usually, I’m hyper-alert, paranoid, and so careful.
With joy and happiness bubbling out of me, it’s no wonder I missed the cues.
I feel the Beast Lord before I see him. He’s so near!
He drives up in his Dodge RAM—I’m beside him before he even has the chance to turn the engine off. He opens the door and I throw myself at him the second he steps out of his truck.
“Stafford! Oh, God, I thought I might never see you again!” I gush joyously.
I jump into the corded strength of his arms and wrap myself around his body. Warm and solid, he carries me with ease. The steady beat of his heart against me is reassuring. I feel safe and at home in his arms.
“Jan.”
With a possessive grip on my nape, and an arm around my waist, he holds me tight against him. Cuddled into one another, he strokes my throat with one calloused thumb.
Inhaling, I breathe in his heady scent. The energy of his wolf shimmers across my skin in an earthy caress. How I’ve missed his primal magic.
I pull back from him, grinning like an idiot. He is so harshly masculine, so handsome…and so loved. When I look at him, I can’t think. Maybe it’s more, I don’t think.
Stafford makes me feel.
“I can hardly believe it. I’ve wanted to be with you for such a long time!”
“You have no idea what I’ve put every one of my wolves through.” Bending his head down, he presses his forehead to mine. Stafford exhales as though burdened by the weight of the world. “We searched everywhere, but I don’t care. Nothing matters…nothing. As long as you’re home.”
There’s such pain in his voice. My poor strong, stubborn, Beast Lord. “I’m so sorry!”
One hand travels up from my neck, to run his fingers in a gentle caress through my hair. He cups my jaw. “It wasn’t your fault.”
I suck in a deep breath, trying not to cry. No amount of torture had the power to break me, yet the tenderness of Stafford’s loving touch has the ability to tear me apart.
My fingers move to trace his face, his masculine jaw, his confident, sensual lips. This man has been the star of all of my rescue fantasies, sexual fantasies, marriage, babies, and “happy-family” fantasies for months.
He turns into my palm, affectionately kisses it. The gesture sends a shiver of desire and warmth through me.
With sudden clarity, I realize I loved him before he turned werewolf. I loved him after.
I love him now.
I stroke his arm, his face, his thick, soft hair. I press my lips to his, remembering the feel and the taste of him. I’m moved almost to tears with the sheer joy of it.
I know him. I know every inch of his body. I know his heart—maybe even his soul. Forced to be parted from Stafford has made me realize how much I love him and how lucky I am he loves me.
I swear I’ll never leave him again.
This time, I’ll tell him about my demon. We shouldn’t keep secrets from each other—not secrets of that magnitude. After my first betrayal, when I confided in someone I trusted, and ended up being chased with pitchforks—I learned my lesson. Since then, other than my Jugulo, I’ve never told a soul about my demon.
I’ve been stupid not to trust Stafford.
I won’t tell him tonight, and maybe not even tomorrow. I need a rest, a break from drama and stress. I’ll take the plunge and confide in him this week for sure. I owe him that much. Surely, he’ll understand?
“Jan, where have you been?”
“It’s such a long story.”
“Hey, you’re cold. Let’s get you into the truck.”
“Yes, please take me home—I can’t wait to get back to the magic lands. On the way, I’ll tell you what happened.”
Like the caring gentleman he is, he opens the passenger door for me. I climb inside and fasten my seatbelt. He walks around the front of his truck, opens his door, hops in, fastens his own seatbelt, and starts the engine.
As we pull out of the diner’s driveway, I tell him my adventures in chronological order. I start with the demon murders, and what Detective Joseph and I discovered. I give him the bad news of how his missing pack member died.
At least that mystery has been laid to rest.
Eventually, I explain how I was kidnapped by the vampire assassin.
“I’ll kill the blood-sucking bastard!” His voice is a savage growl. Raw animal energy rolls off him, filling the air.
I can’t help but grin, pleased by Stafford’s fiercely protective response. “I appreciate your attitude, but don’t worry about it. The vampire in question is no longer a problem.”
Stafford says nothing but his roiling energy tones down a little. Too
bad his deceptively calm demeanor won’t last.
Chapter 81. Trying not to Lie
Talking about my Jugulo can’t help but put him in a murderous mood, but it can’t be helped. I describe our meeting at MacLeod’s, how the vampire used me to obtain information. I tell Stafford about the ghosts of those murdered on Vancouver Island, and how the sorcerer became demon-possessed.
The Beast Lord is not only a powerful pack alpha, he’s The Alpha. He can definitely taste a lie. I take care to speak only the truth, while skating around the fact I have a demon.
He turns his head, glances at me. “If the Jugulo knows you can speak to ghosts, I’m astonished he let you go.”
Hmm. Good point.
I shrug nonchalantly, searching for truths I can voice. “Well, he’s a weird guy. A loner with a fortress in the middle of nowhere.” I quickly change the subject. “Did you know some vampires can dematerialize and flash themselves anyplace they like?”
Stafford nods. “I’ve heard of it in Master Vampires. He must be very old.”
Try thousands of years.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “And he’s good at his job, judging by the huge entourage of restless spirits who follow him around. I know he’s an assassin, but other than during war, it takes centuries to kill that many.”
“What happened to the demon-possessed sorcerer?”
I tell him about the caves, the vortex, and finish by admitting, “I stabbed him under his chin, up into his brain. Unfortunately, the Jugulo assumed the demon jumped into me at the exact moment the sorcerer died.”
He says nothing. I’m glad because I don’t want him to question my story.
“Anyway, it’s taken all this time for the stupid creature to let me go.”
His hands tighten on the steering wheel, his lips press together. “Did he torture you?”
I shift uncomfortably. “Yes.”
He frowns, but says nothing. I’m glad he doesn’t ask for details.
“You know how I healed you?”
He nods.
“Well, generally I can heal myself unless, um,” I shrug. “You know; someone goes too far. It wasn’t pleasant, but I got through it by thinking of you.”
Stafford’s breath catches at this admission. I pause and continue when the rhythm of his breathing returns. “I thought of you every single day—all day,” I tell him. “I tried to reach out to you, but the second the vampire bit me our bond was broken.”
“Yes, I see.” He nods. “I knew the moment our link disappeared. From then on, we’ve never stopped searching. When our wolf disappeared, we knew he was lost after the first full moon. When you vanished, I was terrified you were dead, too.”
I slant him a look, pat his rock-hard thigh. “I’m hard to kill.”
“I’m glad.” He slows to a stop at a traffic light, his gaze meets mine. “Do you know where our pack mate’s body is?”
“It’s likely he’s a John Doe in the city morgue. Want me to find out?”
“Please. His name was Darpar. I’ll tell his pack alpha—he’ll send someone for him. The man should be buried at home.’’
“I’ll let you know.”
Just outside the magic lands, Stafford pulls over, switches off the engine, turns toward me.
I reach out, take his hand. Thankfully, due to the light from the quarter moon, I can clearly see his face.
Why do I sense fear?
Abruptly, I become aware of his roiling anxiety. The bitter taste of it has been on my tongue from the moment he opened the truck’s door. What’s bothering him?
“Stafford, what is it?” Feeling stupid, I shake my head. “I’m so sorry. All I’ve been doing is talking about myself. I should—”
“You were tortured!” His words burst out in a vicious snarl. A hot spike of animal rage fills the truck for an instant, then cuts off abruptly. The sudden silence echoes like a muted scream.
“I’m sorry,” he says, after nearly a minute. “When I think of what you’ve been through…” He sighs. “Samara is an excellent therapist. There are others to choose from, too.”
“That’s a good idea—for both of us.”
I’ll deal with my shit under a counselor. When the dust settles, when both of us are less heated, I’ll tell Stafford everything. Negative interactions will ruin any relationship. Torture is about as negative as it can get.
What’s something positive to discuss?
“Hey, how are the fetuses?” I ask, hoping they are well.
He smiles with genuine pleasure. “Our artificial uteruses are working perfectly. The babies are five-months old. I’m not celebrating yet, but I’m feeling more confident every day.”
This was a good choice. Stafford chats away with scientific details I might find interesting, but not at the moment. Now I just want to look at him, to know he’s near. His deep, comforting voice, his scent, his powerful aura of contained magic—having him by my side is wonderfully soothing.
When he exhausts the subject, I ask, “What else has been going on while I’ve been away?”
He pauses for a long moment, hesitating with an air of uncertainty I find disturbing. I wait as patiently as I can. The acrid taste of his fear is back.
What the hell is wrong with him?
My hand moves to my chest, fear savagely stabs my heart. Has he rejected me for another? Oh, no! I finally find a man I can allow myself to love and stay with forever, and I’m too late!
Vicious ideas claw their way into my mind as I imagine worst case scenarios. I was gone too long. Stafford has found the perfect female werewolf—his true mate. He doesn’t want me anymore.
What is this painful ache I feel inside? It takes a moment to understand. I’m stunned when I figure it out.
Jealousy!
This is another first and it burns like fire.
After all these years, I’ve worked out my self-esteem issues. I’m a good person—I know my own worth. Yet in this flash of sudden clarity, I doubt myself. Powerful emotions flare to life, rolling through me one by one: resentment, sadness, grief.
A painful memory flashes into my mind—my mother’s death. When she died I felt so lost. Alone. Abandoned…unloved.
Like I feel right now.
Of all the terrible things that might’ve gone wrong, how could I have known? The fact is, I could never imagine the actual catastrophe winging my way.
Chapter 82. Revelations
I steal myself and finally get up the nerve to ask. “Is there…someone else?”
His brows draw down. “What? No! Of course not.”
I blow out a long breath and smile. “Whew, that’s a relief.”
Stafford doesn’t smile. He’s preoccupied. Unsure. It’s so not him. No one becomes Beast Lord by doubting themselves. Stafford’s innate confidence and strength are natural facets of his personality.
“Then what is it?” I ask.
“Are you sure you want to go to the magic lands?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
He shifts restlessly, pulls his hand away from mine. “You know why.” His normally forceful tone continues to sound uncertain.
I frown. “Ah, nope.” I shake my head. “I really haven’t a clue.”
Stafford says nothing. He looks uncomfortable. Strong, powerful, and always sure of himself—I swear, he’s dithering! I’ve never seen him like this.
“What is it? Come on, honey. You can tell me.”
I switch on the interior light to see his face more clearly. Extraordinarily dark, Stafford’s sable-brown eyes meet mine. There’s no sign of amber in them to signify the nearness of his wolf.
A very disconcerting sense of déjà vu comes to mind.
I know this look.
Stunned, I stare at the dread and lust in Stafford’s gaze. It’s an odd combination I’ve never seen before—except very recently, on my vampire.
“Stafford, what are you afraid of?” When he doesn’t answer immediately, I intentionally give him an order. “Tell me right n
ow.”
“If I take you to the magic lands, you’ll die.”
“Why would I die?” I whisper.
“Demons cannot enter the magic lands.”
Oh-my-God-this-can’t-be-happening!
My mind whirls.
It’s too much to take in.
My thoughts spin with denial, disbelief, and regret. Mine is a desperate and forlorn hope. I gave Stafford a direct command, and he had to obey. He had no choice.
What have I done?
I know why Stafford stopped his truck outside the magic lands. He believes I’m demon-possessed. He fears I’ll die if I attempt to cross to the magic lands. He’s terrified of me, yet he lusts for me.
Everything I did to my vampire, I unknowingly did to him, as well!
I weaved my vampire a magic collar of compulsion to place my survival as his priority. I bound him with lust, obedience, and self-awareness. My Jugulo will be delighted to obey me—even if I order him to kill himself.
My memory returns to the exact moment I collared the Beast Lord:
Just like that, I’m there in spirit, looking down at him.
Stafford’s warm, earthy animal magic resonates in my soul. He sits at a table, meeting with his pack alphas—it’s nighttime in the magic lands. His head tilts upward.
Stunned and shocked to his core, he stares directly at me.
He can sense me, but he can’t see me.
Already, our bond has returned—it feels much stronger than before.
No wonder he’d been shocked! No wonder our connection was more powerful. Our bond didn’t return at all. Instead, I collared him and he knew the moment I did.
Poor Stafford!
I was furious when he bound me, but that was nothing compared to what I’ve done to him. My magic wove itself into an independence-strangling noose around his neck. Speechless doesn’t begin to cover how it must have made Stafford feel.
I’ve taken this powerful male alpha, the Beast Lord to all the werewolves, and perhaps a number of other shifters, as well—and I’ve made him Beta to me.
My heart quickens, my pulse jumps in my throat. This wasn’t how I planned to explain to Stafford about my inner demon.
