by L. J. Red
“He almost killed you,” Neal said, his voice a low growl she felt through her entire body. “What were you thinking?”
May dragged her eyes open. “What was I thinking?” she asked, confused.
“Putting yourself in danger,” he said, his eyes flashing.
Anger burned through the haze of lust. “Put myself in danger?” she said, taking a step away from him, the cold air whistling around her. “I didn’t put myself in danger. I was standing still; he drove into me.”
“You should’na have been standing there,” Neal said, his lips flattening into a line. “You should have stayed inside—”
“Stayed inside?” May said. “I can’t live my life in that damn cabin. I have a job to do.”
“Forget your job!”
“How dare you.” May said hotly, feeling tears prick her eyes. Her job was the only damn thing left to her. How dare he belittle it like that. “You unbelievable, overprotective damn… male.” She snapped. She strode away from him, tears blurring her sight.
She thought she heard him call her name as she walked away, but it could have been the wind whistling through the trees. She refused to turn. Refused to look at his stupid face and his stupid strong muscles and hard body. She wanted nothing to do with him. Nothing at all.
Chapter 8
Isabella watched the human bitch walk away from Neal. Her eyes stretched wide and pale with anger. She shrank back into the tree line, the tall pines sheltering her from sight. She hissed in frustration and slammed her fist against one of the trunks. Pine needles cascaded to the snow-covered ground around her. She’d been so sure the woman would be caught by the truck. She had no chance to outrun it as it swerved at the last minute, a perfectly orchestrated attack. Who would care about losing one vassal? Humans bred like vermin, there were always more.
Then Neal had come out of nowhere and crushed the truck. His strength, his speed. Isabella pressed her hand against her chest, her eyelids fluttering as she remembered the way he moved… the way he moved to save the human. Isabella snarled, snapping her eyes open.
That bitch just kept getting in the way. The sight of Neal clutching that woman to him had been a knife to the gut. She hunched over, her insides feeling twisted and raw. What was he thinking, pressing himself so close against a human woman like some kind of rutting animal? That human wasn’t for him.
She straightened and stared at Neal where he stood in the center of the parking lot, his dark jacket stretched over shoulders she wanted to grip, to lick, to bite. Yes. She would get rid of that useless fucking human woman, and Neal would be hers. Just as she had planned.
She heard the crunch of snow behind her and flinched, spinning around. A second later she was thrown to the ground, Roman’s pale face staring down at her, his white, washed-out eyes magnetic and terrifying.
“You stupid fucking bitch,” he snarled, his fangs flashing as he got right in her face. “You were supposed to steal the key to the room. Why the hell did you send one of your minions to—”
“She’s got it,” Isabella spat, “that human woman has the key. I’m sure of it. I found her lurking down there on the first day, but somehow she was able to throw off my compulsion.” She writhed, trying to break Roman’s grip, but his strength easily outmatched hers. “Ever since then, she’s constantly being watched by the Shadows. It’s like they know I want to get to her,” she hissed in frustration.
She’d been trying to get the key, not just kill that little bitch. It would be a simple matter to pluck the key off her dead body. That had been the plan, it had been a good plan, yes, she muttered to herself, it had been a good plan. Images of May’s dead, mutilated body flashed through her mind, and she grinned in pleasure. She could have found another way, of course, but she longed to see the little upstart dead.
Roman slammed her head against the ground. “Focus, you crazy bitch. What do you mean they know?”
Isabella winced and backtracked. “They can’t… no… I’m sure there’s some other reason they’re watching her, they’re just overprotective, the Shadows, it’s in their nature.”
“Then why are you giving them a reason by sending one of your incompetent fucking humans to kill her?” He glared down at her. “This is about your fucking vendetta.”
“You promised me,” she hissed, rearing up against him, “you promised I could do with Neal as I liked.”
“And you can.” He gripped her painfully tightly. “But first you have to do what I want.”
Before she could stop him, he ripped the mask off her face exposing the black and twisted flesh beneath to the cold night air. She screamed, raising her hands to her face, to her scar. Her shame. Proof that she hadn’t turned fully, that the healing vampire powers hadn’t found their way into her flesh.
Roman shoved his face against hers in a mockery of a caress. “Never forget, Isabella,” he said with a snide twist, “I know who you are. I know what you are, and I’m the only one who can give you what you want.” He trailed his finger along the edge of her ravaged face. “The power of a Bloodline, the strength of Radiance within you… but if you don’t do as I say…” He dug his fingernail into her scar, and she screamed as the scent of burnt flesh and rot stained the air. “Say it, Isabella, say you’ll do what I want.”
Isabella sobbed, staring up at Roman’s empty white eyes. “Yes,” she choked out, “yes, yes I’ll do as you say.”
Fuck you, she thought. Her twisted thoughts wrapped around themselves. She would make Neal pay for touching that human. And she would hurt that human, whatever Roman said. No one touched what was hers. She would get the key of course, but she’d find a way to hurt the human and make Neal suffer as well. He’d pay for daring to look at someone else.
Roman let her up, moving to the other side of the clearing faster than she could follow. Showing off the power he held as leader of his Bloodline. He threw the mask at her feet, and she scrambled to pick it up and tie it around her face, breathing easy again once her scars were covered.
“No more mistakes,” Roman warned. “You know what you have to do,” he said, before disappearing into the darkness between the trees.
Isabella stared at the place where Roman had stood, filled with rage and loathing. One day she would have his power, she swore, and then she would force Neal to see what she had become, what he had done to her.
Chapter 9
Talon took up a vantage point in the corner of the room. The space before him was almost as large as one of the Sanctuary gathering rooms and full to the brim with vampires from all over the country and all over the world. Hundreds of people in all sorts of clothes and fabrics. Different faces, some familiar, some unknown. There was something thrilling in seeing such a group of vampires gathered in one place. As a Shadow, his time was usually spent traveling alone, staying at Sanctuaries, or incognito in foreign cities, and dealing only with the vampires that he was sent to track down and kill, rather than vampire society at large. Security details such as this job came few and far between.
It should have been a chance for him to relax and enjoy it, as far as one of the Shadows could ever truly relax, since they were always alert and watchful for the next threat. But instead he was tense, on edge, and he was not the only one. The same tension was in Neal’s expression across the room, where he was watching the doors, and Rune, standing outside and patrolling the perimeter, felt the same way. There was a thrumming tension through the Bloodline bond that held them all together.
How could they relax when Roman, the head of Bloodline Radiance was here with them? There he was, standing in the far corner talking casually with his allies, his eyes flicking between Neal and Talon. Roman was just as aware of the Shadows as they were of him.
The tension wouldn’t dissipate. Throughout the week before and in every meeting so far, a feeling of danger suffused the Conclave. Of course, that could simply be Talon’s paranoia talking. He knew that his senses had been going haywire for the past few years. He constantly felt watche
d, felt on edge as if every moment was a battle, every new person an enemy, and every meeting an invitation to fight. It hadn’t always been like this. There had been a time when he was a younger vampire, new to the Shadows, that he had found some kind of balance with his brothers, but over the years, his lust for fighting had grown and his taste for violence had overwhelmed him. He found it hard to pull back from a fight now. His brothers usually had to pull him off, and he had been banned from solo assignments for the past ten years, because of what he had done on his final one. Tracking a rogue vampire who had been feeding on children. Death had been too good for that vampire, and Talon had lost himself in the torture that he inflicted on that monster. It had driven him over the edge, and he was afraid that he would never be able to claw his way back to sanity. Every day he lost a little bit more of his humanity, until soon he feared that he wouldn’t even mourn its passing. He would be cold and dead inside.
“Order. I call this meeting to order,” a vampire said, striding forwards to the center of the room and raising his hands. Talon recognized him as Finlay, Aaron’s second-in-command and the current acting head of Bloodline Clarity.
The fact that Roman still walked free after Kai had poisoned all the vampires in Chicago made Talon feel like jagged glass was scraping his insides at the injustice of it. He too had suffered the poison, trapped in the cells with Neal for what had felt like years.
The vampires settled into a loose circle around Finlay, standing still as statues. “First,” Finlay said, “we must hear the petition that has been filed to dismiss charges against Roman, the leader of Bloodline Radiance, with regards to the actions of Kai, a vampire of his Bloodline. The petition has been raised by Mikhael of Bloodline Fury.”
A tall vampire with heavy-lidded eyes and a dark orange stripe across his collar stepped forward and with a languorous voice began to spout his lies. “Of course, Roman had no idea what the rogue, Kai had planned. Roman wasn’t even in Chicago at the time.”
Bullshit. He could easily have been hidden in Radiance territory the whole time.
“Kai was foolish and power hungry, but surely we cannot hold Roman responsible for another vampire’s actions.”
Yes they fucking could. Talon growled under his breath. Roman was the head of his Bloodline, of course he was the one responsible for his vampire’s behavior. Rage rose within Talon at the smug look on Roman’s face. Lucian had almost died in that fight. Aaron had almost died in that fight. From the corner of his eye, he could see the growing anger on Finlay’s face as well, but he didn’t stop Mikhael. This was the rule of the Conclave, that all would be given a chance to speak, even if what they spoke were lies.
Talon couldn’t stand it. Yeah, fine, he understood the reason behind it, that even the guilty should get a chance to say their piece before judgment was made, but when it was just lie after lie after lie! He couldn’t take it. Every word drove him further into his rage until finally, he surged forwards. He saw Neal rushing to intercept him, too late. Talon leaped.
Roman spun to meet Talon, but he was no match for Talon’s muscled body, fueled by sheer anger, and Talon bore him to the ground, raking his claws down Roman’s front and shredding his fine white suit to nothing. Talon snarled, a frenzy of rage running through him. The sharp smell of blood split the air as his claws sank into Roman’s flesh. Roman kicked up at him, trying to shake him off. His fangs bared, Roman strained forward and bit down on the meat of Talon’s shoulder, but Talon barely even felt the strike, his mad fury insulating him.
“You were in on it. You want us dead. You just want power for yourself.” He would kill Roman. The thought came glowing through his rage. He would wipe this piece of shit from the face of the earth to protect his line, to protect his race. He would do it to avenge those innocent humans that Kai killed. But before he could sink his teeth into Roman’s throat, he was ripped away from the other vampire and flung across the room. Neal roared at him, his eyes glowing with an ungodly fire, his shoulders and arms wide, stretching the cloth of his black leather coat. He looked more formidable than a vampire—he looked like a demon from the very depths of hell, clawing his way out of the ground. The undeniable force of his rage hit Talon both physically and from within from the Bloodline bond. Despite all that, Talon was so lost to his own rage that he barely recognized his brother, and he bared his fangs and launched himself forward Neal. Neal met his strike, and in one swift move, slammed him down on the ground.
“Down,” he said. “Stay down. For God’s sake, Talon. It’s me, it’s Neal, control yourself.”
Talon came back to himself in bits and pieces and he realized what he had done, staring around blindly at the vampires clustering the room.
“Get out,” Neal said grimly. “I’ll deal with this.” Talon dragged himself to his feet.
Roman was standing again, brushing his hands down his ruined jacket. “You see how out of control—”
Finlay turned on him and snapped, “We are vampires. What, can’t you take a little knock to the ground?” He raised his eyebrows, and a frisson of laughter went through the crowd around them. Clearly Roman didn’t have as many allies here as he’d thought, and his face twisted in anger as he took in the expressions on the other vampires’ faces.
Talon was breathing heavily. Shame slowly twisted through his insides. Vampire fights were common, sure, but the Shadows were supposed to end them, not start them. This display of violence had been much more brutal than any of the power plays he’d had to break up. He avoided Neal’s eyes, but sent a trace of an apology through the bond, and stepped away, retreating to the door.
Talon stepped out into the dark night and took a few paces into the snow, tilted his head up and breathed deeply of the cold air. Rune appeared out of the darkness, the pale blonde of his hair catching the light. “What went wrong? I felt something in the bond,” he said, coming closer.
“Nothing,” Talon said through clenched teeth, “just Roman. We should change places,” he said jerking his head for Rune to go inside, and he strode away from Rune before he lost his temper with him too. How long, he wondered, how long before he lost himself so fully to his rage that the only way his brothers could stop him would be to kill him?
Chapter 10
Neal watched his friend, his brother, stalk away, and a cold fear clutched at his insides. Talon had almost not recognized him, almost stayed in his madness and his rage. He looked away from the door. “Proceed,” he said to Finlay, and stepped back, flashing a dark look at Roman. Oh, he understood Talon’s rage. He wanted Roman dead too, but they were here to keep the peace, not add to the fighting. He took up position just off from the center of the room and stared resolutely out into the heaving crowd, daring one of them to make a comment on Talon’s show of anger.
Vampires fought; this was as much part of them as their blood-taking. Fights for power were nothing unusual among their race, more so when it came to the supremely powerful Bloodlines gathered here, and despite the raw violence in the way Talon had fought, the vampires gathered eventually settled once more into the stillness of the dead.
Finlay took the center again and turned the talk to the next subject on the list, a border dispute between two territories in Eastern Europe. Two vampires stepped forward to speak, and the rest of the Conclave turned their eyes to them. All but Roman. His gaze stayed, cold, on Neal’s back.
Neal outwardly ignored him, but inwardly he was on a knife edge of readiness, his awareness keen for the rest of the meeting, only relaxing when the room emptied.
He left the building last, pulling the doors closed behind him. The moon was cloaked by clouds and the night was thick and dark. Neal closed his eyes and within the depths of his mind, the bright spark that was May bloomed into his awareness. He groaned. He had tried to stop himself from thinking about her all night, tried to ignore the fact that he was constantly aware of where she was at all times, but it wasn’t working anymore. He couldn’t deny it any longer. Even if he refused to call it what it was,
he knew deep down that he needed her.
Since the moment he had seen her standing still in terror, the truck bearing down on her. Since the moment he had felt the sudden tearing fear that she might be hurt. His heart had stopped with such a wave of black despair crashing over him that he could barely breathe. He didn’t know how he had crossed the space between them, just that one minute he had been watching her from the awning of one of the cabins, and the next moment he had her in his arms. The feel of her had been overwhelming. It had been all he could do to stop himself from taking her there and then in the snow. Baring his fangs and tasting her blood. Fuck, he wanted to taste her so badly.
For the past week, he had been watching her constantly, following her when he should have been focusing on keeping the Conclave itself secure. If it hadn’t been for Talon and Rune keeping him on task, he would have forsaken everyone else here and simply spent all his time watching May.
But he had no idea what to say to her. Every time he was close to her his words dried up. Or he said the wrong damn thing. She made him feel like a lovesick fool. He snarled, stalking through the snow.
There was no way she would welcome his attention. She’d made that clear on the first night. And so, he was reduced to just watching her from afar, wishing he were close enough to touch her, but knowing that if he did, he would only scare her away.
Like now, for example, he knew she would be leaving the back rooms soon and returning to his cabin to sleep. Which in itself was an exquisite kind of torture, knowing that she was close by, safe in his territory, hell that she was safe in his bed, but that he couldn’t touch, couldn’t go up and join her, lest he scare her away for good.
