Captiva Capitulation (Six Feet Under Vampire Werewolf Menage Series Book Three)

by Scott, Talyn

  “I…can’t…talk.”

  “That’s all right. I can’t walk.” He brought one hand up, cradling the side of her head. “Time to soap up, though, and head home.” Blythe made this soft little sound, her hands pressing against his chest, so he pulled back and stared down at her.

  “You’re… going to Captiva?” A bead of perspiration caught her eye as it slid down his chest, and then she lapped at it, as if she were starving for the taste of him.

  “Not if you keep doing that,” he groaned, reaching for the soap while running a soft, water-soaked cloth down her back. “If Bane can live on the island than so can I.” Her tongue caressed the dips between his abdominal muscles and he started hardening again. When she lowered to her knees, running her face all over his increasingly heavy sac, he gripped her shoulders, warring about what he wanted to do and what he promised to do, which was bring her home at a certain time. Kash waited patiently to profess his…everything for her. And Sixten had tamped down every territorial urge a powerful male encompassed to let her go, trusting Rock to bring her back as a hard to kill immortal. And if he showed up late, Sixten would shift into something ridiculous and terrorize the island like Godzilla on a bad day.

  Couldn’t happen.

  “Blythe,” he warned, shutting off the water with his mind and reaching for a towel, “I want you again, and I certainly want to please you in every way, but it’s dark by now and we’ve waited nearly too long to head out.” He started toweling off the curvy body he found flawless and irresistible. “Although your scent has definitely changed” - he nuzzled her neck right over his claiming mark and Night Blooming Jasmine soothed his Beast - “you’re still vulnerable to shifters, and we have to be careful.”

  “I wasn’t harmed on the beach.”

  “No, and I owe a great deal of gratitude to all those males who circled you in order to honor me. But they have other things to do for our Pack, so we’ll hit Sixten’s guards somewhere along the next bridge to Captiva.”

  And that was when he lost her.

  “Blythe?” Rock caught her by the arm, gripping her so she wouldn’t hit the tile. He was sure that she wasn’t having a seizure, though her eyes were certainly transfixed, staring at the lights above the vanity mirror much the way they did when Heath had introduced himself to her. He willed the lights off, plunging them into deep darkness. She began to push at him, wincing as if she were in pain, or trying to get away from something. “Baby, talk to me.” Her lips peeled away from her teeth, a hiss escaping her throat.

  A vampire’s hiss.

  Yes, her father was a vampire, but Sixten would have said something if Blythe needed to feed. She squirmed against him, turning to run, but he refused to let her go. “I am here for you, here to help you, and I’m not letting you go.” Sixty seconds passed, Rock knew, since he counted them one by one, before she went limp, relaxing.

  “Someone was with them,” her voice shook. “It wasn’t just Anthony and Salk.”

  Rock racked his brain, recalling that Anthony was her brother. The dick was in with the rogue shifters before Poison offed him. “It wasn’t just Anthony,” he coaxed softly.

  “It’s dark.”

  He willed on two bulbs, keeping it low. “Better?”

  “It’s dark at the window,” she went on, her voice strained, almost sounding automated. “Father…but I didn’t know.”

  “Father,” he repeated, remembering the savage hunter trying to murder Blythe, his priceless daughter. Screaming at the top of his lungs that he was going to kill his youngling, the deranged male didn’t want Blythe to fall victim to the Dynasty ever again. What a sick fuck. If Rock hadn’t been in that helicopter with her, Blythe wouldn’t have made it out alive before Bane and Sixten got back up to her. “Biological father,” he corrected. “Big difference. Nothing like your Dad, baby, he was a decent human being. The best.”

  “I have to wonder about my parents' car crash on the Sanibel Causeway now,” she seemed to be snapping out of it. “Do you think?”

  “Hush, now.” He pulled her close, soothing her with his hands. “There’s no point in puzzling that mess through, it doesn’t change your adoptive parents’ outcome, does it? What’s done is done.” When she stayed quiet, he asked, “You haven’t filled in any other memory gaps, have you?” Rock knew she had, but refused to coerce her over something so painful. That kind of intrusion could be detrimental to her mental well-being, and he wanted only the best for Blythe.

  “Only thing I saw was Anthony, S-Salk, and the man…secreting me away from Gianni’s estate. I swallowed from his palm.”

  “Swallowed?” Rock didn’t like the sound of that. “Blood?” Blood bonds could be a dangerous thing when not between mates.

  “I remember swallowing, but not the flavor.” She shrugged her delicate shoulders. “Must have been blood, whoever he was, he wasn’t holding a cup or anything.”

  Often, blood from the creature that caused the immortal amnesia to begin with could reverse the spelled memory gap. Rock knew this. “When you were with the Marchii,” he pressed gently, “he fed you to compensate for the anemia, the unfair bond he had forged between you, what happened when you fed?”

  After a steadying breath, she answered, “Some memories came back when I fed from Gianni.” She chewed her lip, thinking. “Mostly, those pieces consisted of Gianni and me in private, uh, situations. You’re squeezing me, Rock.”

  “Sorry, baby.” He loosened his grip, rubbing away any potential marks. “This…is new to me, feeling red-hot rage over someone touching what’s mine.”

  “New to you,” she grumbled, “this werewolf thing is new to me.”

  “I think we’re doing just fine.” He curled a finger under her chin, lifting her to face him again. “Bane and I haven’t discussed Salk with anyone else, not even the Alpha. How many vampires know he was your father? Think carefully. It’s important.”

  “At first, the only other vamp that knew was Maestru. Now Oycher knows since he can read my mind. I’m assuming he blabbed to the other Vojaks. Sixten’s a basket case over it. He wants to kill everyone, but doesn’t know where to begin or end. It’s frightening to think any Lovec can manufacture Donors as a product for the Dynasty.”

  “I don’t think that’s always the case that any Lovec can, Blythe, or the hunters wouldn’t be working so hard. I’ve seen quite a few of them in action, especially lately. And my sources told me the Dynasty panicked over a dozen or so missing. Doesn’t sound like they have hordes of Donors stock piled.”

  “Something tells me they’re still going to hunt me,” she said, trying to smile up at him. “Your werewolf-voodoo-immortal-making-magic must be really good, because I’m feeling stronger already.”

  “Any mate of mine will stand no matter what’s thrown against her without the aid of any Were magic. Considering that your scent changed, maybe you won’t call to the hunters, not that they’ll take you from me.”

  “You don’t have any records of this happening, though, do you?”

  “No, but werewolves don’t become addicted to Donors like vampires do. Unless told, how would we know if one of our females was indeed a Donor to begin with? That’s not saying that you don’t smell delicious to me. You have no idea how much you do. I would love a taste of my mate in every way all hours of the day, would crawl naked over a nest of Pygmy Rattlesnakes for it. That said - would I gorge on you? No way. I wouldn’t have those urges. Besides, if I were to go nuts like that, my werewolf wouldn’t allow me to harm you.” He watched her dig her nails into her palms, and he knew what she was thinking. “Ah, Sixten has a hard time fighting his cravings, huh?”

  “Of course not, I’m still here,” she said indignantly.

  “See, if you lied to me as friends, I would be disappointed yet still go on. Since we are mated, it’s an altogether different story. Werewolves, especially werewolves, allow no untruths between them. I’ve explained this. You will tell me if Sixten has ever lost control.”

  “
Yes,” she blurted, pressing her fingertips to her temples.

  “You will tell me how many times this has happened.”

  “Fuck…once, alright!” She yelled. “Only once, he’s good now!”

  “Don’t put me in this position again, to compel you in this way, Blythe.” He refused to risk her life under any circumstances, and those circumstances included her vampire. “No untruths between us ever, agree to this. Please.”

  “Agreed, buddy, and that goes both ways!” She veered around him, moving toward her freshly washed clothes waiting on the counter. “I deal with Sixten, and he’s crazy enough for all of us. Back off from the dominance, Rock. It doesn’t matter how much I want you, it’ll push me away.”

  His arms circled her hips, urged the fleshly mounds of her ass against his thick cock. “Try to get away,” Rock said, swiping his piercings over her back crevice.

  “God,” she groaned, staring at their reflection in the mirror, “I’m gonna need Rock’s Rule Book for Mates.”

  “I’ll get you a copy.”

  “Only so I can smack you over the head with it!” She hissed when he picked her up, positioning her knees shoulder’s width apart on the granite. “How shameful, it’s hard to stand on my convictions when you look the way you do.”

  “Nothing to be ashamed over, just bend over your convictions and then I’ll spank them out of your mind.” Finding her most intimate place, he spread her wide open with two fingers. With the other hand, he reached inside the vanity drawer below for something special. Something he commissioned when he was a youngling before he attended his very first ‘rights to mate’.

  “You said we have to go,” she said dazedly, her eyes watching every move he made.

  “We do.” Reaching inside the sapphire-colored, velvet bag, he pulled out a tribal charm, and then eased it through the tiny hole his canine made in her sensitive hood. “This’ll be quick.” When she squirmed, his Beast snarled and bit her without breaking skin, just holding her steady by the shoulder.

  “Wow,” she said in awe. “I have a piercing, too?”

  After tightening it, he ran his fingers over the delicate piece, relishing her responding shiver. Nothing would do Blythe justice, but he’d waited an eternity to see his mate wearing this particular piece, one with the same inscriptions as his first tribal boring honoring him for his valor. Releasing his oral hold, Rock licked her shoulder before he said. “Yes, you are pierced. I love you, my mate – my wife.” A wicked smile curved his lips when she met his eyes in the mirror. “Oh, and we’re gonna have a lot of fun with that. Just you wait.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I need some keys.” Blythe wiggled her fingers at Rock, salivating while standing in his garage, a place where any man could die happy, and she could, too. She didn’t care which car he chose, she would be honored to drive any of them.

  “Sorry, but you’re not driving tonight.”

  “Tomorrow, then?” she asked hopefully. When he didn’t respond, she rambled excitedly.

  “Sixten has this Stingray, a nineteen-sixty three rebuilt, one of my favorites in his collection.” Blythe felt her boots tapping the floor in anticipation. “It’s loud and sexy. He says he’s giving it to me. And I know that I’ll drive fast, probably get a speeding ticket. But it’ll be worth it to feel the island breeze blowing through my hair.”

  “It won’t be an island breeze if you’re speeding,” Rock retorted, bending over a worktable and reaching for something. Soft, torn jeans covered his thick legs and his ass tightened as he moved. “More like a neck bending wind. Or if you can’t drive well, a neck breaker.” He turned around holding a helmet in each hand, his tribal ink disappearing around the edges of a deep navy jersey. “You’re going to bobble head in this. Though since you're having headaches, I'll still be able to talk to you while we're riding without using our mental highway.” He pursed his lips, a canine flashing, as he closed the distance between them. “I’ll have to order a smaller one, but it’ll do for now.”

  “I’ll have a ginormous rat’s nest on my head when that thing comes back off.” She pointed to her long, ebony locks, but he put it on her anyway. She flipped up the shield. “You’ll run when you see it.”

  Slanting his head, he kissed the tip of her nose. “You could go bald tomorrow, baby, and I wouldn’t run.” He shrugged into a waist-length biker jacket, which dampened her panties. His lip curled. “Tempting your male?” Then he pushed her arms through a nearly identical jacket. “Big,” he grunted, zipping her. “Again, it’ll do. Cuff the sleeves so your hands are free. That’s my girl.”

  He pulled her around a corner where four distinct motorcycles lived, one stood so shiny and proud she figured it must be made of platinum. “What is that?”

  “It’s a reproduction of a concept bike known as a Tomahawk v-ten, one of ten in existence.”

  “It looks like a mirrored sculpture,” she said in pure wonderment. Reaching out to touch the masterpiece, she quickly dropped her roving fingers, since she didn’t have the heart to leave fingerprints. “Goes fast, I bet.”

  At that, he laughed. “If you consider four-hundred miles per hour fast, then, yeah, it goes fast. Fast enough that it’s not street legal, baby. Nor is it what I would consider covert. That’s why.” He pointed her in the direction of a matt black superbike. “We’re driving the turbine. It’s quiet, blends in with the night and still tops nearly three-hundred, not that we’re going to test it with you onboard. Saddle up, and tuck your skirt under your thighs when you sit down.” He slung those long, powerful legs over the bike, shifting forward to make room for her while adjusting his helmet.

  “It’s not made for two,” she muttered, wiggling her butt as she wrapped her body around his.

  “Blythe, you can’t jiggle all around me and expect us not to crash,” she heard his voice say from inside her helmet. “Put your shield down and you can still talk to me. Ready?”

  The engine started. And covert was the first thing she thought of, since it was nearly silent. However, the vibration was incomparable to anything she’d experienced, which got her to thinking.... “Ready,” she replied. Boy was she ready for him. This male had some amazing hold on her, and she never wanted him to let go.

  Then they took off.

  “You’re not holding on tight enough,” he complained in her ear as they rolled on a seashell-encrusted drive dividing The Blue Pelican and its adjacent bed and breakfast, which was actually a hotel. Rock’s house bordered the resort alongside several high-rise condominiums filled with nothing but werewolves. Yep, humans who lived on Sanibel Island were definitely the minority.

  Squeezing his middle when they hit the main roadway, she asked, “So you can live on Captiva, just like that?” They passed a restaurant themed after Alice in Wonderland, complete with a beachside view. Patrons were waiting outside, the small place crowded, and she wondered how many women would make it home safely tonight.

  “Maestru has to make an agreement with Jayce, a binding contract. Until that happens, we’ll say I’m visiting.”

  “You and Maestru haven’t been getting along lately,” she said, thinking Rock’s permanent residency on Captiva wasn’t promising.

  “You’re assuming Maestru and I have ever gotten along.” Then a low hiss sounded as though she lost a radio station. His voice went in and out, but she caught bits, and it sounded as though he was telling Sixten that they were about to hit the small bridge connecting Sanibel to Captiva. She couldn’t see over his shoulder, so she curled her neck around his elbow and spotted the bridge ahead. Then his voice was back in her ear, telling her Sixten was on his way.

  With Kash.

  Her heart squeezed at the thought of Sixten wrapping his arms around her, moving his body inside hers. Blythe missed him so badly that she couldn’t stand it. Her stomach, however, plunged at the thought of Kash. Not in a bad way, but an uncertain way, there was something there…between them. For her, it had happened when she fed from him after they rescu
ed her. No, she wasn’t bonded. Blythe knew the difference. However, something changed, and coupled with those heated dreams of hers, the ones with him at her back and Sixten at her front. She shook her head. Temptation was one thing. Love was another. And whatever was going on regarding Kash was messing with her mind.

  “Situation!” Rock was yelling now.

  “What?”

  “I said. We’ve got ourselves a situation!” he growled low and deadly. “Can you drive a bike?”

  Oh, now she could drive something. Problem was… “Only ridden, never driven, what’s the situation?”

  “Keep your head down, lower it behind me,” he ordered, instead of explaining. They sped away from the bridge, instead turning through a clearing marking the entrance to the wildlife refuge. Certainly, Rock was the most threatening predator roaming the mangroves, but it didn’t make it less eerie to drive through at nightime. Even with her helmet on, she could hear the gators mimicking barking dogs, the rustle of heavy creatures pushing through fallen brush, and the sounds of wings flapping overhead. Wings? Sure, birds were plentiful in the mangroves. Sanibel housed hundreds of species.

  Still.

  Rock tossed his helmet, his neck immediately arcing. From his back, she could feel his chest rumble with a warning growl. Then Blythe saw it, a deep shadow ahead on broken palms. Not on broken palms, she soon realized. It wasn’t stationary, but moving fast, headed straight for them. Another gargantuan shape glided above them, blocking the moonlight, casting the swamp into deeper shadows, rendering it impossible for her to distinguish one thing from the other.

  “Lovci?” She asked, “Are they Lovci?” But Rock’s helmet was off, and even if he could still hear her, he wasn’t answering. She threw hers to the ground, as well. A keening call whistled through the trees, four wings turning toward them as they ventured on a path deeper into the swamp.