by J. D. Tyler
Still, his fangs lengthened, instinct almost stronger than human will. Almost. Resisting the urge to sink his teeth into the delicate curve of her neck and shoulder was more painful than ever. Heat sizzled under his skin, baked his insides. But he held strong in his resolve and plunged deep, brought them to orgasm with a rush of heady ecstasy, filling her.
Making it last forever.
Easing out, he cleaned them both and they finished their shower. Toweling off, they got dressed in simple jeans and T-shirts and went to see Micah.
Slipping into Micah’s room behind Rowan, Aric saw Ryon, Jax, and Zan already there, standing around his bed. The four of them were talking, and Micah was sitting up, looking tired but smiling—a fact that soothed some of the heartache, but not nearly enough.
How could he seek absolution for a sin Micah wouldn’t even recall?
Micah’s smile lit his scarred face. Aric managed not to react to the sight of the puckered skin pulling at his cheek and the corner of his mouth. The man would get the wrong idea.
“Aric! Jesus, it’s good to see your smart-ass self.” He held out a hand and Aric shook it carefully, avoiding the IV.
“It’s great to see you sitting up, bullshitting everybody with that trademark charm,” he said with a smile that felt strained. Fortunately, his friend didn’t notice.
Micah snorted. “Charm? Well, it’s not working or the docs would let me out of here.”
“Soon. Don’t push yourself.”
“Hey, we’ve been here awhile,” Jax interrupted. “We’ll go so you guys can visit. Micah, it’s great to have you back. You’ll be in the game again, kicking demon ass before we know it.”
The trio took turns shaking his hand and slapping his back before making a noisy exit. Micah chuckled hoarsely and regarded his sister and Aric, the facade of good humor sliding off his face.
“How are you, really?” Aric asked, taking a seat. Rowan pulled up an extra chair next to him.
“Tired,” he admitted. “I feel like I’ve been dropped on my head. It’s like I went to sleep, opened my eyes ten minutes later and all these changes had happened. Half our guys dead or missing.”
Resting his elbows on his knees, Aric steeled himself. “You don’t know how sorry I am about that, buddy. I trusted someone I shouldn’t have, and it was my—”
“Your fault. Yeah, yeah, Jax just fed me the same line of crap.” He shook his head, pinning Aric with a determined gaze. “Jax said Beryl was his girlfriend—which I remembered—and she betrayed us all. I don’t remember that part. He also said Beryl is your stepsister, but he didn’t blame you for her actions. Neither do I. Hell, I don’t blame anybody. I just want to get better and get on with rejoining the team.”
“You might feel different when you remember what you went through. You might hate me.” Whether Micah did or not, Aric hated himself enough for both of them. He’d take that to his grave.
“No. Not gonna happen.” His friend raised a hand to his ruined cheek and his brown eyes darkened. “I owe some motherfuckers for this, but not you and Jax. You’re my brothers. That’s the way it is.”
The man was putting up a brave front, and that’s exactly what it was, but Aric let it go. No point in dragging down what little confidence his friend was attempting to muster. He cast about for a way to change the uncomfortable subject, but Micah did it for him.
“So, sis, what’s the latest from the LAPD? You’ve got to get back soon, don’t you?”
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to discuss with you. I have to go back day after tomorrow, take care of my business. I’m not sure when I’ll get more vacation time to come back,” she said anxiously.
“Listen, don’t feel bad about that.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “You have a job, Ro. It’s not like we’re frigging independently wealthy that we’ve got a choice in whether to work. Go. I’ve got the whole team and staff to baby my ass.”
Rowan laughed, though her expression was still worried. “If you’re sure…”
“I am. Just say good-bye first.”
“You know it,” she said softly.
“So what’s new in the land of fruits and nuts?”
She snickered at his old reference to California, and launched into some recent tales from the trenches. A drunken streaker they’d arrested one night, a catfight between two women who’d ripped each other’s blouses off, and a bank robber whose car wouldn’t start after he’d done the deed. There were more, and she had Micah smiling, troubles forgotten for just a little while.
Aric, on the other hand, sat almost gasping for breath, sweat rolling down his spine. His temples. Trying to act as though nothing was wrong.
If he could last two days, it would be a miracle.
* * *
That evening, Aric, Rowan, and the rest of the gang were eating dinner in the cafeteria when Nick strode in, obviously a man on a mission if his serious expression was anything to go by. Conversation tapered to a halt as their commander stopped in the middle of the area and addressed everyone.
“I got a call from Jarrod Grant,” he announced. “Orson Chappell and Beryl have been located. Finish your dinner and let’s meet in the conference room in fifteen. I want A.J. and Rowan in on this, too.”
Setting down his fork, Aric wiped his mouth with his napkin and tossed it onto his plate. He hadn’t been able to muster much of an appetite anyhow, and this killed it. Glancing at Rowan, he entertained absolutely forbidding her to ride along on this op, but figured that would go over real well. Not. Besides, Nicky had a reason for requesting her involvement. He’d tell them why himself.
Aric waited as Rowan and the others quickly downed their meals, and then they all filed out, making their way to the “war room,” as he thought of it. Everyone took seats at the long conference table except Nick, who stood at the head of it holding a small remote control. Once the group was settled, he began.
“Grant sent us footage, courtesy of the military, of a remote cabin in East Texas where Chappell and Beryl are reportedly holed up. There’s no evidence that this is a lab facility—it’s just a cabin. But it’s a very well-guarded one.”
“The Sluagh?” Kalen asked.
Nick nodded and pointed the remote at the new flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. “Let’s take a look.”
The screen came on and showed a video of the front of the cabin, a nice midsized retreat nestled back in the towering pines. It boasted a wide, covered porch that wrapped around the side of the house, and large windows with the curtains drawn. A stone chimney stood on one side, and Aric had no doubt the interior was just as attractive as the outside. Then again, he wouldn’t have expected Beryl to stay in a dump, on the run or not.
Nick paused the video. “Okay, see these dark spots in the footage?” He pointed to several shapes that appeared to be shadows or perhaps bad reception in the feed, located on opposite corners of the porch, several along the edge of the trees. “There are more of these shadows on the porch as the camera pans to the side and back. I believe those are the Sluagh being used as sentries, only their true forms don’t show on film. I showed this to Sariel and he agrees. Now watch as the video travels to the back of the cabin.”
The transition wasn’t smooth. Whoever had risked his neck to obtain the vid pointed the lens in the general direction of the cabin as he obviously sneaked around the building, making the view bounce up and down. Then it smoothed out as he reached his destination, giving a nice shot of the rear of the cabin at a forty-five-degree angle.
More shadows dotted the back porch and surrounding area. Nick paused the video, pointing to a window on the left side. “Right here. Look closely and you’ll see two figures, a male and a female. The male on the left is taller, white-haired, heavyset. He’s been identified as Orson Chappell. The female with the long auburn hair is Beryl. The military believes they’re the only two inside.”
Aric let out a curse. He and Jax locked eyes, and he knew his friend was both anticipating and dreading the comi
ng confrontation, because he felt the same.
“Nicky, I counted somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty of Malik’s ugly-assed pets,” Zan said, frowning. “That’s just the ones we can see in the vid. How the hell will we destroy them all to even have a prayer of getting inside that cabin?”
“Because we have some points on our side that we haven’t before—the element of surprise and the knowledge of what they are, and that they can be killed. Our resident faery prince also gave me a very important tidbit that we’ll use to our advantage.”
Their commander stopped the vid and then pushed another button. A slide appeared on the screen, a hand-drawn illustration of a Sluagh. The rendering was quite good, done in dark pencil, with all of the minute details, right down to the warts. A red circle was drawn on the beast’s upper left side, just above the ribs at the spot where the top of a lung would be, if it were human.
“What is this? Sluagh Anatomy 101?” Ryon joked. The tension was broken and the others chuckled. Even Nick managed to lighten up some.
“Exactly. And this is probably the most relevant fact you’ll learn about them.” He pointed to the center of the red circle. “When the Seelie transform into their evil counterparts, the transition is physically tough on their bodies, as you can see. Their hearts are displaced, which is kind of appropriate when you think about it.” More snickers, and Nick’s lips curved in a half smile. He tapped the picture. “The heart ends up right here, far to the left of where human and Seelie hearts are located. Like most sentient supernatural creatures, a Sluagh can’t survive if this organ is destroyed. He is, for all his strength and nastiness, simply flesh and blood. Take out his heart, and he’s dead.”
“But that means we have to get close enough to the damned thing to get at it,” Aric observed.
“Not true. Shoot it if you can. Stab it if you must. But one way or the other, kill the fuckers,” Nick ordered. “Then take Chappell and Beryl alive if at all possible.”
A.J. spoke up. “So, Rowan and I get to go? Are you sure you trust humans along on this op, especially green ones?”
“Fair question. A.J., the rest of the Pack should know that you’re more than just a former security guard for one of Chappell’s buildings.” At the newest man’s reluctant nod of assent, Nick addressed the group. “A.J. is a former Dallas police detective and was also part of the SWAT team… as a sniper. Of everyone in this room, he’s the man most likely to pick off a dozen of those bastards before they even realize what’s hit them.”
All eyes swung toward the good-looking sandy-haired man. His lips pursed and he looked down at the tabletop.
“Dude, that’s awesome,” Ryon said.
“No, it’s not,” A.J. snapped, and Ryon blinked in surprise.
Aric wondered what the guy’s story could be, why he’d left the force to become a rent-a-cop, but that was a tale for another day.
Nick quickly took the floor again, steering them away from the uncomfortable exchange. “A.J. has agreed to be the Pack’s sniper, an area where he can really excel without having to go hand to hand with our nonhuman opponents. He’s been practicing at my request and has accepted the position. Does anyone have an objection?”
It was a moot point if the job already belonged to A.J., but Aric knew Nick would listen. As it turned out, the Pack was supportive, agreeing that having a sniper on the team was a good plan. He’d be loaded with silver bullets for added protection.
“Good. This will also help Kalen, letting him save his magic for bigger problems, and believe me, there will be some. As for Rowan,” Nick went on, “she’s an officer, trained in firearms and apprehending criminals, even if she’s used to human ones. She can fight, and she’s proven herself in battle as far as I’m concerned—and we need every able-bodied soldier we can get. This is of course up to her, and the Pack has to agree.”
“I’d be honored to be included,” Rowan said eagerly. “Yes.”
“Objections?”
Aric expected one in this case, and not surprisingly it came from Hammer. Their friend who was also sweet on Aric’s woman. A growl escaped from Aric’s throat, but he managed to make it sound like a cough.
“She did fine before,” Hammer said worriedly. “But we didn’t know she was with us until it was too late. I’ve got my doubts about bringing a woman into battle, cop or not.”
Oh, the big man would have his hands full with his own mate someday, with an antiquated attitude like that. Aric smirked to himself. Sure, he’d had the same urge to protect Rowan, but he knew she wouldn’t have it.
“Are you saying you refuse to fight at her side?” Nick asked sharply. “That what? Her sex will be a distraction in the heat of danger?”
“No,” their friend protested with a scowl. “I’m a better warrior than that, and you know it. You asked, is all, and I said my piece.”
“Noted. Anyone else?”
“Nope.”
“It’s cool, boss.”
To Aric, it was anything but cool. Being in the minority, he kept his trap shut. For a change.
“Everyone be armed this time, and use your gifts as you can. Let out your wolf—and panther—only if you have to get that close to one of these creatures. Wheels up in one hour.”
The meeting was dismissed, and Rowan turned to Aric. “You’re upset that I’m going. I can tell.”
“I’m overjoyed,” he drawled sarcastically. “Does it make a difference? You’ll do what you want because you’re as stubborn as anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Including you.”
“Yep.” He tweaked her nose. “Meetcha at the hangar.”
He left her standing in the hallway, and he felt kind of shitty about that. But he needed some distance between this woman and his emotions. He had to psych himself for the coming fight, or risk endangering his friends. His mate.
In his quarters, he stood panting, the fever almost unbearable. He had the strength to get through tonight, barely. This would be his last battle.
He’d make it fucking count.
One hour later, he was armed to the teeth as he strolled into the hangar. He headed for the group and glanced around for Rowan, then spotted her coming in after him. As she joined him, he grabbed a gun from the waistband of his leathers and handed it to her, butt first.
“My extra hand cannon, complete with silencer. Figured you’d need one.”
“Thanks. I was going to ask, since they confiscated mine when I got here.”
“No problem.”
Nobody said much else as they loaded into two Hueys, buckled up, and took off for Texas. Time to kick some Unseelie ass.
And catch his bitch of a wicked stepsister.
They crept through the foliage, and Aric blessed the carpet of pine needles for muffling their approach. They were prickly, and the heavy pine scent in the air made his wolf itch to sneeze, but they were useful.
The Pack fanned out, but Aric kept Rowan close. The woods were almost pitch-black, occasional slivers of moonlight providing a path, like the floor lights in a movie theater. The Pack could see much better, but their human companions were vulnerable.
Thankfully, the cabin wasn’t far off the isolated county road, so their trek wasn’t as long as some they’d been on. Even though they were moving slowly and cautiously, within a half hour the place came into view. Crouching, they froze as a unit. The hulking shapes of more than a dozen Sluagh were posted in the front, on the porch and perimeter combined. Some lumbering around, a few dozing. One in particular was snoring in one corner of the porch, so loudly he could be heard halfway to Dallas if the wind was right. Aric snorted to himself. No matter how evil you were, good help was hard to find.
“Be careful,” Nick whispered. “They just look stupid. Go in quiet, kill as many as you can before the alarm is raised, and then A.J. will do his thing. Okay, my group, let’s take the back.”
Nick, Ryon, Jax, and Zan moved off silently, leaving Aric, Rowan, Kalen, and Hammer to cover the front. A.J. hung back in the t
rees, sniper rifle in hand. They were as ready as they’d ever be.
Aric’s group moved forward, and then spread out to pick off the beasts hanging on the outer edges, the ones alone and close to the shadows. Taking a deep breath, Aric took aim at one and fired. Thanks to the silencer, the shot made the barest whisper. It struck the kill zone and the thing slumped to the ground, dead.
The problem proved to be the noise their rather large bodies made when they fell. Hearing the thump and a grunt from its fallen comrade, one Sluagh swung its big head around, searching for the source of the disturbance.
“Come on, you big bastard,” Aric said under his breath. “That’s right, come on over and see what’s going on.”
Sniffing the air, the creature ambled toward his spot. A few steps later, it came upon the other’s body and lifted its head to let out a roar. Aric fired again, striking this one in the heart as well, and it crumpled.
To his left and right, his group began taking out the rest of them, but their luck couldn’t hold. Someone’s shot went wide, hitting one beast in the shoulder instead. The creature let out a booming cry that brought the area to life and made his ears ring.
“Fuck.”
Time to dance. They rushed the remaining creatures, picking off as many as they could before the numbers overwhelmed them and he, Hammer, and Kalen had to resort to their gifts. Just as he shot a Sluagh to his right, he spun to find two more nearly on him. He threw out a hand, unleashing his fire, grimacing as they burned, squealing.
Not far from him, Kalen was doing a good job of protecting himself and Rowan from the onslaught, using his magic to dry them to husks. Hammer used his gift as a Tracer, teleporting from one place to another in an instant, barely avoiding decapitation. Aric was so distracted seeing him do that in battle, he nearly got himself gutted.
He collided with one of the creatures, causing him to drop his gun. Shit. In desperation, he pushed his body into the other’s massive bulk, then forced a rapid half shift, his fingernails becoming razor-sharp claws. Then he drove them through rancid flesh into the beast’s heart. It gave a grunt and fell as he yanked them free again.
