by Scott, Talyn
Not really. “Uh huh.”
“Bane said you were able to see Jax before he went to Orlando,” Rock whispered, nodding at a few ginormous men.
“Yeah, I wanted to spend more time with him, but Dru found a doctor who specializes in spinal surgeries for his, uh, kind.”
“Our kind,” he corrected. “Doc said he’s made quite a bit of progress, though.”
“In a certain form,” she said, speaking of when her brother transformed entirely werewolf, “he can walk and sometimes run.”
“Then that’s a good place to start,” Rock said over his shoulder.
Passing numerous, awaiting guests crammed inside the vestibule, she dutifully trailed him. Glancing up, she realized that he’d cut his long, black hair. Now, styled into a blended, brush cut, the thickest layers remained on top with dark strands perfectly jelled. He wasn’t in his biking or fighting leathers, either, not that he always was. However, today, he wore a Zadig and Voltaire Jacket, the coffee-colored leather ending at his waist. Underneath, he’d tucked an ash-grey t-shirt inside white, straight leg jeans. Boots were still part of his package, but they were short, pretty much matching his jacket. Blythe had to admit that he looked fantastic, and the women here seemed to agree. But when did he not?
They were seated at a window overlooking the ocean. He sat next to her on the long, padded bench instead of taking one of the two opposite chairs across from the table. The beach lingered somewhere behind her, the sun’s heat warming her back through the glass.
“No one will sit at this table,” he said in a low rumble, motioning to the empty table next to them, an iridescent flash of miasma suddenly encompassing them.
“Of course,” their host agreed after handing them menus. “I’ll send over your server.”
“We’ll order now.”
The host didn’t seem perturbed at Rock’s brashness. Probably another werewolf, she figured. Blythe glanced over the menu, couldn’t read half the offerings. So she tapped a nail on the first item she saw. “This is fine.”
Their host smiled, nodding, “Canard aux peches, excellent choice, and for you, sir.”
“I’ll have the shrimp and scallop au gratin. Triple that.” He turned to Blythe. “You ordered duck in peach sauce.”
She flushed. How did he know she wouldn’t eat duck? “I don’t understand French. The shrimp sounds fine.”
Rock added an additional dish of boeuf bourguignon. Turning back to Blythe, he asked, “Iced tea?”
“Sure.” She could use something stiffer, would even settle for wine, yet it was still a little early. When the host walked away, she made a face and whispered, “Duck?”
He was quick to whisper back, “You live with a vampire who drinks blood, your blood to be exact, and you find a platter of duck disgusting?”
“Teasing me, big guy?”
“You have no idea how well I can tease you, my mate.”
Blythe’s lips parted, her response sitting on the tip of her suddenly dry tongue. However, Rock didn’t wait for her reply. Instead, he addressed a cute, young woman who walked to the table with a sheepish smile, carrying a pitcher of iced tea. Lemon slices dancing behind the crystal, her hand trembled as she poured.
Blythe returned her smile, gripping her goblet so it wouldn’t go for a flyer. “Hello.”
Her cerulean eyes widened, moving all over Blythe. “They weren’t exaggerating about your looks, were they?”
Rock held out his hand, and she handed over the pitcher. In a low, grumbling timbre, he reprimanded her, “Youngling, mind your manners. And don’t think I don’t know about the gossip pots you’re stirring. I’ll pour.” His chin lifted, and she dropped her smile. “Run along.”
Blythe watched her hasty retreat, embarrassment coloring her face. She picked one word out of all that. “Youngling?”
“Yeah.” He added sadly, “A halfling whose human mother was killed on the night the mixed-bloods escaped that hidden Habaline facility on Captiva Island.”
“Her mother was fully human?”
“It rarely happens, odd really, but yeah.” Rock cocked his head, his line of vision dropping to her lips. “I’m grateful for every rare mixed blood we find, especially you, baby.”
His stunning physicality affected Blythe. She looked down at her lap. Often, Rock’s intensity was too much for her. For a moment, she feigned adjusting her skirt. Lost in his smell, his strength, and his aura, heat licked her inner thighs. A long minute passed before she could come back to the conversation. “A species wanting to survive finds a way, huh. The Habalines are going for it.”
“Higher power consumes, reforms, and then regenerates. Or in a Habaline's case: regurgitates.” He glanced over at the girl. Her hands shook as she poured sparkling water for another guest. “I’m thinking Zuri’s sire is from a powerful line. More than likely, she’ll find mates within our Pack when she’s mature enough to settle down.”
Blythe didn’t want to discuss multiple mates. “Zuri? That’s beautiful.” She reached for her napkin. “She’s beautiful.”
“You are.”
Her stomach flipped but she still managed to wag a finger at him, scolding, “You upset her, and her mother just died. That’s not like you.” Blythe wanted to envelope Zuri, tell her she was sorry. Somehow, she doubted the girl would accept comfort from a stranger. “You know I lost my parents, well, the ones I thought were my parents, right on the causeway.” She gestured behind her to the bridge connecting Sanibel and Fort Myers. “Why snap at her for saying something silly.”
“I’m in a distinct position of authority, which is what Zuri needs right now. Leadership directs. Coddling induces weakness in our kind. Weakness will get her killed or subjugated by another faction. I don’t want that for her.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he placed a fingertip on her lips. “She’s rebelling. I don’t allow that. Ever. Maybe you don’t understand. I command every werewolf except the Alpha, his Beta, and a Beast you haven’t met named Gage MacGelton.”
When he dropped his finger, she said, “But I’ve heard of him.”
“Yes. Gage is co-mate to Sayer. He’s the mixed-blood who, thankfully, impersonated Sixten during the meeting with the Dynasty Prince. Sayer enabled your vampire to aid our Pack in saving you. I owe him a personal debt for that alone.” He took a long sip of tea. “Anyway, back to Zuri. She’s been playing in Ryan’s dungeon, a place no werewolf should go, especially a female.”
What the hell? “Ryan’s dungeon?” He looked away from her, greeting two waiters placing steaming plates in front of them. She guessed his position of authority garnered quick food service, too. Salivating, she picked up her fork and shoved a huge bite in her mouth before they finished serving Rock all his extras. Surprisingly, her nervous stomach had taken a hiatus. “This is heaven.” Baked shrimp and sea scallops in a béchamel tomato sauce topped with Swiss cheese and breadcrumbs graced her tongue. Next bite was tomato basil rice and mixed vegetables. Rock knew how to order his food. Sadly, Blythe’s ass was going to be twice its size by the time she left, since she would have no other choice than to swallow every bite.
“Heaven?” He chuckled, watching the servers leave. “I could put that look on your face without the benefit of food.”
Wuh. Blythe had told Sixten she would try, didn’t seem too hard a task as the minutes passed. She reached for a roll, going back on topic. “So…Ryan has a dungeon. A literal dungeon, as in, it’s underground?”
“I figured you knew about it by now, after mating Sixten.”
“No.
“Well that young girl, the one you want me to coddle, plays there.”
That didn’t sound good. “Where is it?”
“The club.”
His long fingers worked his knife and fork, cutting his beef. Even his hands were sexy. It boggled her mind at how claws sprung from those hands, their lethalness killing creatures just last night.
“Six Feet Under?” She’d never seen a dungeon there. “I lived above th
at place, worked in the club almost daily for months. How did he hide it from me?”
He gave her look that said, ‘I don’t want to insult you, feeble mixed blood’. With a shake of her head, Blythe continued, “Why a dungeon, then?”
He swallowed a bite, choosing his words. “For sexual needs. Some of it depraved.”
“No wonder Sixten wanted me out of there.”
“Of course he did.” He reached out his hand, stroking a slow intimate caress across her shoulder. “Vampires need a certain outlet.” He sighed. “Many humans practice bondage…masters and slaves or Doms and Subs, right?”
“Right.”
“Vampires started those practices. Years of mingling with humans, feeding from them, and owning them caused their lifestyle to trickle over – evolving into the human world. So many humans practice it to a lesser extent.”
“You’re saying from the beginning of vampires’ existence?” Her mouth fell open. “Eons ago?”
“Yep,” he nodded. “Blood slaves, pleasure slaves, or both were subjugated under vampires or vampiresses. Only traded or sold if their particular owner found his Bride or a vampiress found her mate. When I say subjugated, I mean enslaved. All nefarious happenings protected by vampire by-laws, though things have lightened up considerably since the Dark Ages.”
“Female vampires practiced this, too?” Dumb question, she realized after she said it.
“They did.” Eyes of inhuman color darkened. “Many still do.”
“With humans?”
Another nod. “The only props I’ll give Maestru: His Vojaks are committed to keeping humans far from those vampires who still practice criminal subjugation. For the most part, he’s had some luck.”
“Then why do werewolves hate them if their trying to right wrongs?”
“From the beginning of our existence, vampires stole our females from under us. Much the way the Habalines have, but on a grander scale. The ones they didn’t subjugate, they drank to death, especially our female younglings. Legend says, from those feedings alone, vampires grew in power, were then able to spin Druid webs hidden inside our ancient, Celtic world – ones they should know nothing about. However, this particular continent is one of a few who have joined factions with vampires, if only on occasion to combat a joint enemy.” He pushed his third empty plate away. “Alpha mingled with Maestru in a form of peace, as his father had, though most days they keep a respectable distance. That is, until Maestru stole Jayce’s queen. Now, things are sketchy, though our Pack certainly worked with them to bring you home.”
“I can see hatred in your eyes,” she observed uneasily.
“For Maestru? It’s close. Personal.” Another deep breath and then, “You know about Dakota’s attack.”
It wasn’t a question. Rock knew Sixten couldn’t keep it from her forever, and he hadn’t. “I do. But Sixten said I cannot see her for a while.” Her hands fisted in her napkin. “That Dakota’s okay, though.”
“It depends on your version of okay. Maestru’s blood saved her life. I’ll give him that.”
“There’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”
“I’ll feel better once I talk to her. Only then will I know that she’s in her complete mental faculties, wouldn’t hurt for me to see her walk around a bit, too. Use those arms and legs.”
“I still hear a ‘but’ in there.”
“Those vampire laws…and humans.”
“Go on.”
“Owing a Master vampire a blood debt is significant.”
Blythe put her fork down. “I’ve seen Maestru feed others.” With a negligible shrug, she added, “Possibly, I have some of Maestru’s blood rushing my veins. I know that the Vojaks donated to me as well as Dr. Holt. Honestly, though I’m grateful, I was so sick that I lost track of everything. That said, no one asked for anything in return or suggested I accumulated a debt.”
“I haven’t memorized all the laws, but if you consumed a Master’s blood, Maestru could have accepted payment through Sixten’s contribution to the Coven. Don’t forget that you were claimed at the time, a wife to one of his subjects. There’s a significant difference between you and Dakota. And that’s the difference I’m worried about. If…when she wakes up, she’s going to find her life in shambles and we have to be there to help her.”
“I heard about her father’s stroke, his downtown store,” Blythe groaned. Sixten had killed Rave there and the place stood destroyed. “Without even asking him, I know Sixten will help with their finances and the store’s reconstruction… if her father’s able to work it after he recovers.”
Brushing her hair from her shoulder, Rock said, “We’ll help her with that and more, but as far as Maestru’s concerned.”
“Your hands are tied.”
“My hands are tied,” he confirmed. “No matter what he’s done in the past, this morning, I overstepped my bounds with Maestru. In fact, he can file a huge grievance with Jayce and insist a Vojak take me into his Coven’s custody.”
She narrowed her eyes, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m guessing you not only lost your temper, you put your hands on him.”
“You stand uncorrected.”
“Wow. Not only do I have to discuss Dakota with Maestru, but plead my case for my hotheaded werewolf friend. That’s a lot of groveling.”
His face darkened. “I hope you’re kidding, and I’m way past friend status.”
“Partially kidding, but I have to try something. Besides, I think Maestru has a soft spot for me.”
Rock laughed evilly. “He’d better not have any spot for you. For that alone, I would kill him and suffer anything the Vojaks would throw at me.”
“No doubt you’d enjoy the drama, especially on a slow day.” Blythe wondered about something. “I heard you have Maestru’s fangs.”
“Yeah, too bad they grew back.” Scooting closer, his thigh touched hers, white denim stretched over corded muscle. “Vampires are like reptiles.”
After an attack, local alligators could regenerate any lost limbs. She witnessed it personally. “I guess I’m part reptile, then.”
“No.” A large hand rested against her knee, stayed there, his thumb circling the edge of her skirt hem. “I guess I’m bitter about the whole Maestru thing and shot off my mouth when I shouldn’t have. I apologize, my sweet mate.” That insistent hand came up, entwining his fingers with hers, bringing her knuckles to his lips. Rock’s beard was short, neatly scruffy, and his whiskers tickled her fingers as he kissed each one. “Besides, the Beta’s powerful bloodline flows through your body. And if it didn’t, I still wouldn’t care about your genetics. You have no idea what you truly mean to me, but before the next dawn, you will.”
“I understand that we have important things to discuss, Rock. But I want to know -”
“What am I going to do about you?”
“I’m not sure if that’s what I’m asking,” she whispered.
“I’ll tell you what’s not going to happen.” White teeth flashed a wolfy smile. “I’m not going to back off, run away, allow you to talk me out of anything, play indifferent, or ignore what I want to do to your extraordinary body.” At her gasp, he stood up, tossed a stack of bills on the table and helped Blythe to her feet.
“Where are we going?”
“My place, baby,” he murmured against her temple. “You haven’t been able to spend a day on the beach, soaking in the sun, for a while now.”
“We’re really going to…have a beach day?” Could it be possible?
“If you’d like.”
“A safe day at the beach, really?”
“Really.”
“I don’t even have my purse with me, certainly not a suit.”
“Taken care of. All you have to do is relax and let me have you.”
“Relaxing sounds good.”
He curled his lip, since she didn’t acknowledge the ‘let me have you’ part. “Full moon starts tonight.” His lips touched her ear. “And you’re going to be present and ac
counted for.”
Chapter Six
“At this point, I say we can move her to a human hospital.” Dru thrust his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to massage the back of his head before dropping onto a chair.
“No to a human hospital.” Maestru sensed the vampire’s unease. “And?”
“Respectfully, may I ask…,” he stalled out, releasing a slow breath.
“Go on, doctor.”
“If you continue to indulge her body with your ancient essence, a Master’s blood, what will happen with her free will?”
Maestru stared across his desk, meeting concerned eyes. Never did he tolerate such personal questions well. Since Dru remained lead Coven doctor, and Maestru had personally summoned him on this case, he allowed marginal lenience - emphasis placed on marginal. Nevertheless, the doctor was too close, and his concern breached annoyance. Questioning a Coven Master’s authority walked death’s blade. Questioning the process by which Maestru made any decisions sealed one’s fate.
Two serious infractions.
Both were made inside a Coven Master’s personal dwelling.
And Dru committed them over a human.
Biting back a sharper response, instead, he answered, “Nothing will happen with Dakota’s free will.” Maybe, all depended upon his mood when that particular time presented itself. One thing he did know, whether she liked it or not, Dakota’s life would change. Even so, this topic was none of Dru’s business. “I fed her once.” With a toss of his head, he leaned against his chair, onyx hair sliding over his shoulders. He shrugged, unconcerned. “Her blood is her own, hasn’t touched my tongue.” Yet.
Dru blinked deliberately, going over his words carefully now. “Ancient laws are ancient laws.”
Meaning Dakota owed Maestru a significant blood debt, but he refused to continue this line of conversation. “Have you sampled her?”
“No, Master.”
“You sampled Blythe’s blood.”
“Yes, when Ryan first brought her into the clinic, and a time or two later. I donated much blood to Blythe, though we certainly are not bonded in any way.” Dru stretched arms overhead, yawning loudly. “I never took.”
