by Talyn Scott
“You have spies?” Her eyes widened, dreaming of the possibilities before them.
“Rumors are,” he stressed, studiously ignoring her question, “indicating that the recently married one is not of Were...but the youngest is. There has been a petition filed on her behalf by the North American Beta himself.” Ciaran leaned a hip against the corner of his desk. Biceps bulged across a remarkable chest, tattoos littering Ciaran’s arms emphasizing the planes and hollows that acknowledged the birth right of the Alpha of Scotland, a position he refused after his father’s murder. An uncrowned Alpha that carried the power others could only covet. Tales circulated, claiming he was more than one thousand years old.
Principia had taken his entire evening, and his family had seized his whole life. Demanding this and that, they were barely satisfied for scant moments. Sure, he was immortal, but wasting time was more than a waste. It was an abomination. He should know; he’d committed many.
His best friend, Scotland’s Beta, was a rogue; no one had stepped up to the replacement challenge, and that meant a declining pack on his homeland, desecrating his father’s honor. He not once moved to right that wrong. Not at any time wanting to return to death…so much death, he had since avoided Scotland at all costs. A coward, he was not. Worn down, admittedly, he would say he was.
Everyone wanted something from Ciaran, and he always delivered. Time and time again he put other’s first. This time, this request, he was still doing just that. “Be gone, lass,” he directed Principia to the coppered doors. “I will think upon your request and meet with the other males. If it’s fitting to the clan, we will hunt this young one before the full moon. If this is decided, vengeance will reward your bloodline, strengthening it once more,” he opened the front doors with a thought.
She knew to leave, not push him into a decision. Never push an Alpha, even one that hasn’t claimed his throne. The power that Ciaran held baffled her. She didn’t know where it came from, at what age his beast bestowed with it. Nevertheless, it held his form. The cruelty, the magnanimous authority, the wealth of skills, and earthly knowledge fit the lone wolf. Sure, his bed always appeared warmed. Un-mated pack members lined up to be his mistresses. One after the other, he kept not a one too long. He still suffered over the loss of his only true love, the one taken from him. To that, Principia would play. To that weakness, his past, Principia would get her wish.
Ciaran scaled the stairs, entering his lonely bedchamber. Unarguably, Principia was a bitch, literally and figuratively. If he didn’t intercede, she would bring the entire family down for the waste that was her daughter. No one was as self-serving as Jody, apart from Principia. He hadn’t a single suspicion that she hadn’t deserved her horrific death in ten folds. Jayce Jordan hadn’t brought shame to Ciaran’s family; Jody had. He knew both sides of the story, enlightened by spies. Jody had set out to claim the queen’s seat by preventing a full mating. The Alpha would have lost his one true mate to Mike, fating no Alpha offspring for this pack, coldly snipping his bloodline. Indeed, it was an unforgivable attack. Without a doubt, he would have done the same, avenging his queen and his honor while setting an example to others. Examples were always necessary in the world of Weres, and, at times, unquestionably devastating to all parties involved.
Still, what Ciaran couldn’t let go of was his love for his cousin, Mike. Mike Carter was a devoted clansman with absolute commitment to his fellow pack mates. He was Ciaran’s best friend, now dead. One day here, the next, he was gone. Ciaran was used to grieving, stripping him raw, forever denying him the closure he sought. Mystical creatures they were, but there was no bringing Mike back. He rubbed a heavy hand across the back of his neck, tension rolling from his body, hating his hatred. If the situation reversed, without question, Mike would seek justice through vengeance – the way of the Weres. This was the exact reason he couldn’t let this go. Mike would speak for him in death, and Ciaran would most certainly do the same.
He firmed his mind, rethinking the meeting, and made the inevitable decision. Raising his chin, he growled low. “I will lay balm on your bleeding soul, cousin,” his rumbling voice drifted through the open window, speaking to the wetlands, going upward disappearing into the sky, settling with a promise that he would keep. Now, Ciaran’s sole thoughts narrowed on Renee Shirley and his clan’s need for blood.
3
Renee Shirley watched as a robot woman gave birth to a robot baby. In a science fiction novel, this would have been the norm. But, no, it was just nursing school. She wasn’t unappreciative of the experience, only super hungry, tired, and blatantly reminded as to one of the many reasons she hadn't had sex yet. Rebecca nudged her arm. Blinking a couple of times, Renee realized the teacher had asked her a question. What did he say? All eyes on Renee to watch her make a fool of herself. “I'm sorry, Dr. Holt. Could you repeat the question?” How humiliating that it would have to be the same doctor who had helped her sister in the emergency room a couple of weeks ago, and then the rest was history. Now, she looked like an idiot. Any guest teacher would have reprimanded her for wasting her time daydreaming in college; not him, he simply moved his gaze across the remaining students and asked another.
It would help if she could forget how hot he was; no, that wouldn’t happen. Golden brown hair shimmered under the fluorescents, highlighting the blond streaks; the cut was slightly longer in the front and tightly layered in the back. Cash bought that haircut, loads of it. Stylish, contemporary glasses perched an aquiline nose, never broken. Dear Lord, she was pathetic. The proverbial Greek god reference sat on the edge of her tongue, well, thought process. Okay, so she might as well think it: Eros in the making.
Definitely, the good doctor was drool-worthy under that obvious, custom-tailored lab coat. Mind wandering further, 'Dr. Holt, what's the best method for taking accurate temp readings?’. That was so wrong. She needed to get to Coffee Comp and have a supersized jolt of liquid caffeine, and she froze. He was fixated on her. A hard, blatantly deliberate stare aimed right at her, almost as if he heard her inner chatter. She blinked. He didn't. Through those expensive glasses that she suspected the he didn’t even need; he never wavered. Once more, it was a drive by, a hit and run, a knockout, and a seventy-yard field goal combined. She turned, sneaking out.
“Miss. Shirley,” his richly melodic voice reached the threshold, preventing escape. “May I have a word with you?”
Ah, come on! “Sure, doctor,” she gripped her books, hugging them to her chest.
“Check your hospital schedules; they're posted outside the door. Class dismissed,” his smile was easy, relaxed. The class cleared in record time though a couple of fellow students gave her the eye.
“I'm sorry about the blank-out,” Renee offered, only after the last student left.
“Does it happen often?”
Yeah, whenever she saw him. “I wouldn't say often or ever,” she shrugged. “I just need some coffee.” Caffeine fixes everything.
“Sure,” he relaxed his eye-to-eye. “You want to skip hospital rounds tomorrow?” He placed a nonchalant hand on her shoulder that any casual observer who walked by wouldn’t question.
What Renee wanted had nothing to do with hospital rounds. She wanted him to stop making her feel things that she didn’t want to feel. “No, I’m good. Honestly, only tired since someone kept me out too late.”
He curled his lip, not exactly a smile. Glancing around, he leaned closer, “call me after work, sweetheart. Fight me, no longer.”
“Your speech,” she shook her head, “I think you were born in the wrong century.” Snickering, Renee stepped back, afraid of drawing attention.
“So were you,” he laughed along, hiding his fangs. Dru wished he’d had her centuries ago, and then his eternal hard-on, the one he’d sported since meeting her at the hospital, would be sated by now. His smile lied, hiding frustration. For all outward appearances, he seemed calm, certainly not a vampire that was about to snap and whisk his bride back to Romania. No, he’d never do th
at.
“We’ll talk later, then, when you call.” Dru had to lecture another class, disappointed to leave her side. Still, he had to be grateful that he temporarily replaced Dr. Harding’s teaching schedule. It was an easier way to keep up with his sweetheart during the daytime hours.
“Not possible, I get home in the wee hours of the morning.”
“One way or another, Renee,” he gently gripped her elbow, instantly serious, “we will talk later this night.”
“What was Dr. Holt all about?” Rebecca snapped biscotti, playing dumb, and glanced out the front windows that encircled Coffee Comp, the university's answer to keeping overpriced coffee lovers on campus. The table wobbled every time one of them so much as breathed.
A serious blush climbed Renee's neck. “Some sort of reprimand for my mental hiatus in class,” she sipped her Java. She took it black today to match her mood, no flavors, no froth, and nothing sweet. She couldn’t figure out what to do about Dru or him, and she didn’t want to talk about it. “We haven't been to the restaurant since Tatum moved to Sanibel. Maybe she could meet us there over the weekend,” Renee thought aloud. “I miss her. Your brother and Jayce are keeping her prisoner in their sultan palace with all its guards and glory,” she exaggerated her eye roll.
Rebecca winced. Renee didn't know of the Were community and, most importantly, wasn't aware of Bane's verbal claim on her. Coming forward weeks ago, he petitioned Jayce for rights to claim. He didn't have to, since any werewolf has the right to claim what's his by nature. But out of respect for Jayce's Alpha status, and the fact that Renee was Jayce’s sister by mating, Bane submitted a formal petition. The Alpha wholeheartedly approved - big surprise there. What better position for a female family member to acquire than a male ranked next to the highest? No one could bring Bane down apart from Jayce, and Jayce was the only person he had to obey. “I have to call Bren later to settle my finances, or lack thereof.” Rebecca checked her text messages. “What if I were to invite us out for Friday, sound good?”
“As long as Granny doesn't get a whiff of it, then sure,” Renee's mood always improved around Rebecca, not so much around Granny.
“I like your Granny. I wish I still had mine,” Rebecca snapped another piece of biscotti with her straight white teeth.
“You can have mine,” Renee dug for her keys. “You want to come by my place?”
“You know that I'm not allowed,” Rebecca was embarrassed. Forbidden by the Alpha himself, she had to stay away from Renee's house. It was in a precarious neighborhood that harbored drug pushers and seedy clientele. Bren and Jayce had fought vehemently to move Renee. Any place, other than their personal holdings on Sanibel, would not take her menagerie of pets, especially the pit bull. Bane was in heated fits by the hour. He couldn't watch Renee from afar and co-lead the pack. Since he couldn't be at two places at the same time; understandably, he wanted her under his protection, at his home, and marked with his scent. Topping that off, she was a vampire’s bride, and Bane had to share watch with him, trusting a leech. Good thing, Renee was different, eclectically so. If anyone could handle vampires and werewolves in the same residence, Rebecca hid a smile, it would be her best friend.
Poor Bane, though, Jayce refused to allow his marking until the next full moon. Compatible werewolf mates were rare. A dying breed couldn't risk closing off another for the right to mate. If there were others besides the vampire...well, Bane was going to have to share. The only way to know if there were others, would be discretely exposing Renee – fully aroused- to the unmated pack members, and that wouldn’t be a high count of males, considering most of them were trotting around the country at any given time. Jayce insisted: If he, as Alpha, had to offer rights to mate with Tatum, then so did his Beta with Renee.
“They're trying to flush me out,” Renee complained. After tossing her half-eaten veggie flat bread into the garbage, she snagged her backpack. “Bren and Jayce have tried to move me to Sanibel, repeatedly. I would have to drive two hours every morning to get to the college or the hospital with the snowbird traffic the way it is. Since no one will rent to my five cats, pit bull and thirty-nine fish, I'm staying put until the snowbirds drive home after Easter,” she twirled her keys, while searching Rebecca's impassive expression. Sure, her best friend was on Bren's side – the traitor.
“I'm not taking sides,” Rebecca wasn't a mind reader, but she knew her friend quite well. “It's not a safe area, and I have to listen to Bren since he's supporting me through college.” The hierarchy of the wolf demanded that Rebecca obey her brother since she still was unmated and no longer had a father. It had nothing to do with his financial support. As he was responsible for her safety, arguing with him was pointless. Bren's beast, unbeknown to many, could tolerate silver. Now, how tough was that?
“Except for Tatum's ex-husband, no one has ever bothered me there. In fact, not anyone has heard from Troy since then.”
“Are you sure?” Rebecca opened the door, embracing the setting sun as it warmed the top of her head. After feeling cooped up all day, Rebecca slowly uncoiled under the heat. “I thought Bane suspected a break-in a couple of weeks ago,” she reached her car and glanced at her friend. Renee was struggling with a few empty water bottles that were trying to escape her car with her ass sticking straight in the air.
“He’s paranoid,” she shot over her shoulder. “How could someone be in my house with all the doors and windows locked, and Sugar Baby relaxed on the floor? Not one single bark had come out of that trap of hers.” She plopped into the driver's seat and positioned a pair of shades that she had picked up from Walgreens; unfortunately, Sugar Baby had chewed them, and Renee's paper clip repair was inadequate. The broken side drooped as she turned to Rebecca, “I was doing just fine before the three of them tried to take over my life, and I will be even better in less than the year I have left of nursing school.” The glasses surrendered, sliding down Renee’s face. “I don't want to be controlled, and I don't want their money.”
“It’s not as if they don't have enough to spare,” Rebecca adjusted the rear view avoiding Renee's pitiful expression. She was defiant to the max. No one could tell Renee what to do. Even in kindergarten, she was the smallest kid and had the biggest mouth. “Hey, I thought you had over forty fish,” she remembered the earlier conversation regarding the animal count.
“Yeah, well,” Renee started her car. “I got home late from Six Feet Under the other night...and, uh, Julius....”
“Is he the cat that you rescued from the old lady that fed him brownies three meals a day?”
“I guess he got hungry...or bored,” she was disgusted. She blamed herself, but then again, Julius didn't have to be such a fucking pig.
“It's the nature of the beast. The predator,” Rebecca offered. “Call me tonight.”
“It'll be too late. I have to work.” Nursing school and a job as a server at Six Feet Under was putting a serious damper on her social life. But the green, yeah, she needed the green. Waving at Rebecca, she watched her drive away.
Rubbing the front of her throat, Renee noticed a stinging sensation. Constantly fighting to stay well while training at the hospital, she rarely, if ever, got sick, though there were germs and viruses in abundance. This was different from a bug or the flu. The feeling on her throat, her skin, deep inside her body was over the top strange. Even though Renee was no amateur when it came to strange, she felt out of control. Out of her body and hot, she was downright horny.
Her car door opened. “Well, look who we have here.”
“Get lost,” Renee couldn’t budge the door but managed to look undisturbed anyway.
Tightening his grip, Arian leaned close, inhaling deeply. “I love a girl in uniform. Won’t you be my nurse? I’m feeling a little dizzy.” His friends laughed all around.
“You want a diagnosis? Your hugely swollen, conceited head strains your neck, resulting in a classic case of vertigo. Oh, and your breath stinks.” Arian had perfect teeth. Set straight and sparkly white,
reflecting her now angry face.
Her words left him unfazed, “No, what stinks is your car. You still live in that dump off McGregor?”
How did he know where she lived? “Are you still living in a multi-million dollar Sanibel beach house,” wait for it, “with Mommy and Daddy?”
Still unfazed, he shrugged, “In the cabana. I can take you there later; maybe we could catch up and finish what we started.” His eyes were the lightest blue imaginable, appearing nearly white, coordinating with his hair.
She tossed her broken glasses, while giving his athletic body a once over. Nope, he still didn’t do it for her. He was beautiful and ugly, nastiness on the inside. Renee didn’t do nasty. “We never started anything, so there’s no catching up.” A singular date in high school, which was one she not at any time wanted to repeat.
Releasing the door, he crossed his spectacular arms over a matching chest, “You coming to the game tonight?”
