A Slash of Savagery (Wiccan-Were-Bear)

by R. E. Butler

  She paused for a moment and then said, “That’s so sweet. I’m sure I can find one for you. Nothing too sexy, right?”

  He growled lightly and she laughed. “Thank you, beloved.”

  “Anytime,” she said and ended the call.

  Mishka appeared in the doorway, and Brone raised a brow at him. “Congratulations on your mating.”

  Brone nodded.

  “Her wound healed well?”

  It had taken almost two days for his wound on her neck to heal into the permanent mating scar that marked her as his. When they had mated, when he’d been buried to the hilt inside her, he had sunk his fangs deeply into her neck and drank her sweet blood. He’d been worried about the deep wound, but it had stopped bleeding quickly and had slowly closed. The weekly feedings would not be as deep, and she would be able to heal those wounds faster. She also thought that she could find a poultice to help her skin knit together. He planned to feed from her wrist sometimes, but he did love how she felt in his arms as he fed from her neck.

  “It did,” he answered.

  Mishka regarded Brone silently for a moment, and then said, “I suppose you will not want to take on long, dangerous missions on my behalf.”

  “You would suppose correctly.”

  Mishka snorted and shook his head. “You have changed a great deal, my friend. I did not expect that you would ever find a mate, but I am happy for you.”

  “It only took a thousand years for my beloved to appear. There is hope for you as well.”

  “We shall see.”

  Mishka left Brone to his work, and he turned his attention to the reports of activity over the weekend. After the human had been caught in the witch glass, no other attacks had occurred. He was certain that the church hadn’t given up in their plans to rid the world of vampires, but what their next plan of attack would be, he wasn’t sure. Since the church had set up shop and began their attacks, they had grown bolder with each strike. Attacking the mates was the last straw in Brone’s mind. A male of honor did not harm a female, regardless of who she was mated to.

  Brone pulled up the guard list for those who were available during the daylight hours. Covens were normally guarded by other supernatural creatures who were loyal to them. Vampires were vulnerable during the day. Even if Brone could get up and fight while the sun still shone, he could not leave the club. Arissa had to work at The Cleveland Mother Earth Store on Sunday and Monday and would have to be there before sunset. He would have to entrust her safety to other males, and although the mere thought burned him, he would never forbid her from leaving his arms before sunset or try to keep her captive. He never wanted her to regret their bond.

  After scanning the list, he wrote down four names on a notepad and then picked up the phone. Of the four, two were wolves, one was a fallen angel, and one was a leopard. All four males were highly trained warriors and had vowed themselves to the coven.

  “It would be my honor,” Darien, the fallen angel said. “I know how precious beloved mates are. I swear on my life I will bring her safely home to you.”

  “Thank you,” Brone said, and ended the call. He called each male in turn and all of them were pleased to be chosen. It was a serious job, and each male understood that if something happened to Arissa, none of them would survive. And Brone was certain he wouldn’t survive either.

  Chapter 11

  Wednesday night, Vex stood several feet away from Arissa, a “safe distance” he said, to keep Brone from barreling down the hallway and smashing his face in for being too close to her. She thought it was kind of funny, even though she didn’t really want anyone to be hurt. Since their mating, Brone had been growling at every unmated male who came anywhere near her.

  Over the last week, Mishka had increased her responsibilities. Aside from her main job of helping to keep the mates safe, she was now handling important visitors and setting up meetings for the family.

  “Restik will be here in an hour. He’ll come in with an entourage, and he’ll have a private party in one of the rooms on the second floor. Mishka wants you to make arrangements for food.”

  “He won’t drink SyBl?”

  Vex shook his head. “He’s a purist. He refuses to drink it.”

  She didn’t like him already. After making a note, she looked at Vex. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. Cella said to come up to the family room for a drink on your break. She wants to discuss shoes or...something else girly.”

  “Cool.”

  Vex turned with a snort, muttering the word women under his breath.

  Arissa pressed the button to forward her phone and walked to the doors, opening one and saying to the guards, “I need to see Laurie to talk about the food for the VIPs.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Bellamin said.

  “You don’t have to go with me.”

  “Brone said you don’t leave the office without a guard, and he’s in meetings with the family. It’s me or Dylan.”

  Dylan wiggled his brows at her. She laughed. “Okay, fine. But I swear, it’s been almost two weeks and no one has tried to eat me.” She blushed sharply at her choice of words and both guards laughed.

  “Priceless,” Dylan said, laughing.

  “Okay, Bell, let’s go talk to Laurie.”

  He bowed exaggeratedly and said, “My lady.”

  She gave him a playful shove on the shoulder, and his laughter echoed in the hallway. They walked down the long corridor together, passing behind a one-way mirrored wall that looked out into the club. Arissa was still not allowed in the club unless she was accompanied by Brone or one of the family members. Even though they were mated now, he still worried about her safety, and the club was a large, dark place with lots of humans, shifters, and vampires.

  Laurie was the manager of the human food who were employed by the club. After passing a rigorous background check and both physical and mental exams, humans were paid to be food. Food was the term for humans who took money in exchange for allowing themselves to be fed from. The club paid them an hourly wage, and they had to allow no less than one and no more than three vampires to feed from them during each shift. Food dressed sexy, the men often going shirtless and wearing leather pants, and the women wearing micro-mini skirts and skin-baring tops. Laurie had been food for several years before she was promoted to manager.

  “Hi, Laurie,” Arissa said as she walked into the small office.

  Laurie looked up from her computer and brushed a strand of graying-blonde hair from her eyes. “Hello, Arissa. Bellamin. Cella told me that you’d be stopping by. How can I help?”

  “We need food for the VIP.” Arissa opened the notes program on her phone and said, “There are ten VIPs, all males. Restik is the master of the coven, and the other nine visitors are members of his coven. Apparently he likes blondes.” Arissa made a face.

  Bellamin chuckled as he said, “Who doesn’t?”

  Arissa elbowed him and he grinned.

  “Okay, we’ll send up a nice selection of women. I have some new blondes that will be perfect. When do you need them?”

  “An hour in the VIP room. I’ll meet them up there and escort them in.”

  Nodding, Laurie lifted her phone and began to dial, waving at Arissa with a smile.

  “That was easy,” Arissa said as she walked out of the office with Bellamin.

  “It didn’t used to be so well organized. Since Laurie took over, it’s been very smooth.” Bellamin walked her back toward the offices, but she stopped and looked through the one-way glass at the dancing people in the club.

  “How does it work, anyway? When you want fresh blood, you just call Laurie and tell her what you like?” She hadn’t seen Brone drink from food. He only drank from her now, but he had used food before they mated.

  Bellamin leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and looking out into the club. “For the most part. The food is available to the coven at all times. When I’m hungry, I call Laurie and she sends me someone. Or I see someone who appeal
s to me out in the club and I take her.”

  Jealousy reared inside her. Brone had been alive for a thousand years. How many women had he fed from?

  “Don’t be jealous.”

  She rolled her eyes. “When you find your mate, Bell, I’ll be sure to tell her not to be jealous of all the girls you bit before she came along.”

  He chuckled. “Touché. The thing with Brone, though, is that he has never cared who he fed from. Mishka is very careful — no brunettes. Vex and Rage like to feed from a woman at the same time and prefer her to have long hair. I like blondes, but what I really love is a woman who doesn’t wear any perfume or lotion, who just smells naturally sweet. Cella likes muscular guys. We all have our preferences, but Brone never has had a preference.”

  Frowning, she shifted her attention from the club to Bellamin. “What does that mean?”

  “I think it means that it never mattered to him what the package looked like, so the jealousy isn’t necessary. He probably doesn’t even really think of food as being people anyway.” At her confused look, he continued, “Old vamps, I mean like really old ones, used to think of humans as cattle. They were disposable food sources. Some of the bigger covens even had breeding dungeons where they would keep the humans and force them to breed so that they would have a continual supply of humans as their food aged and died.”

  She shuddered and he chuckled.

  “That was a long time ago. I guess my point is that Brone isn’t attracted to food. Few vampires are. A person who sells their blood like this,” he gestured out to the club where she could tell who the food were by the white shirts they wore, along with the red chokers and bracelets that denoted where they chose to feed from, “is akin to a prostitute. Sure Richard Gere took Julia Roberts away from that life, but how often does that happen in real life? There are vampires who will feed from a person and decide to take them as a mate, but it doesn’t happen as often as humans would like to believe.”

  “It’s weird to think of food as prostitution.”

  “Selling your body is selling your body, regardless of which part.” He chucked her under the chin with his finger. “Feel better?”

  “Sure,” she said and nodded, and they headed back to the offices to wait for the visiting vampire master and his people.

  “You wouldn’t take food as a mate?”

  “I never say never, Arissa, but it would have to be special circumstances for me to overlook that. Let’s just say I hope that my future mate is a blood-virgin.”

  He held open the office door for her, and she gave him a confused look. “Blood-virgin?”

  “Someone who has never let another vampire feed from her. I want to be the first and the only one in my mate’s neck.”

  “You vampires are a possessive lot.”

  “Yeah, we’re awesome like that.” He winked at her and she chuckled, walking into the office and letting the glass door close behind her.

  * * * * *

  An hour later, Arissa climbed the stairs to the second floor with Brone at her side. Not only did she have to escort the food into the VIP room, but she also was expected to meet Restik and his entourage as part of Mishka’s family. She had wanted to argue that, as a non-vampire, it didn’t make sense for her to be included in the introductions, but she knew that arguing with Mishka was not only pointless but rude since he was her boss.

  Stopping in front of the VIP room’s door, she counted fourteen blonde women, all scantily clad, most with red ribbons around both their necks and their wrists, indicating that they didn’t mind being fed from either location. She knew there were ten visitors including Restik, and Brone answered her unasked question in a low voice, “There are extras just in case.”

  “In case what?” she whispered.

  Brone shrugged and said, “In case they are needed.”

  Translation: in case Restik and his crew didn’t like some of the women. Biting her tongue, she didn’t say she thought that it was abhorrent that a vampire would treat humans as though they were little more than platters at a buffet. But she really wanted to.

  Arissa said to the women, “Restik and his people are welcomed guests of Master Mishka and the family. Please be respectful in all ways, and if you have any problems, let me know immediately.”

  The women all smiled and primped themselves in one fashion or another, as Brone signaled to the guard at the door to open it. Brone escorted Arissa into the room and the women followed, all lining up against the wall nearest the door. It reminded her of a strange beauty pageant, where the winners received a couple of fangs in their necks as prizes.

  Arissa’s gaze slid over the room as she stood next to Brone near the family. The ten visitors were sprawled on overstuffed couches, the entirely male group’s casual behavior and youthful looks making them seem like a fraternity.

  Mishka cleared his throat. “Now that my entire family is here, Restik, I welcome you officially to Fang and to my fair city.”

  A man stood slowly, rising from the couch with his eyes trained at the center of the family. Cella stood near Mishka, and Arissa wondered if Restik was looking at her. Restik had pale eyes the color of faded denim and an aristocratically angular face. Curly orange hair sat atop his head. Coupled with the fangs peeking out from his thin lips, he looked like a warped version of Howdy Doody. But she’d keep that to herself. Her gaze strayed from him to his people who still sat on the couches, watching Restik and Mishka exchange pleasantries.

  Something glinted on one couch. She peered at the couch again and realized that the glinting came from a chain. The thick rings of the chain lay over the top of the couch. There wasn’t much space between the couch and the wall. As she wondered what the chain was attached to, it wiggled a little, and the softest tinkling sound was heard.

  A shadow fell over her and then Restik and Mishka were standing in front of her and Brone. Brone hugged her closer, sandwiching her right arm between his body and hers, preventing her from shaking Restik’s extended hand.

  “This is Brone,” Mishka drawled, “you’ve heard of him.”

  Restik grunted.

  Mishka said, “And his beloved mate, Arissa.”

  Since she still couldn’t extract her arm from the tight confines of their bodies, she raised her left hand and Restik gripped it and then dropped a swift kiss to the top. “Ah, a lovely Wiccan. You smell like dirt.”

  Brone snarled and Restik took a step back with a shaky laugh, still holding her hand. “I mean that she must be an earth witch. She smells like the ground. It’s…pleasant.”

  Funny, it didn’t sound all that “pleasant” when he phrased it like that. She extracted her hand from his fingers and fought the urge to wipe the back of her hand on her skirt.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, forcing her most sincere smile onto her lips.

  “I’m certain it is,” Restik said, his eyes darkening. His gaze lifted over her head and he made a growling sound; not sexy the way that Brone growled, but sleazy like he’d just found out the bar was topless and he was going to get to see some flesh without paying for it. “These must be for us,” he said over his shoulder to the men with him.

  They rose like a wave, and in seconds, the visitors had descended on the group of women. Arissa didn’t look at the scene behind her. She knew she wouldn’t want to see what a group of vampires feeding looked like. But her eyes were drawn once more to the chain that was wiggling slightly on the back of the couch. She wanted to know what was behind that couch, but she knew that Brone wouldn’t let her go over there. Not with the visiting vampires beginning to pull the women back to the couches.

  Closing her eyes, Arissa released a bit of her power to seek what was behind the furniture. She felt her power swell inside her, like water filling a vessel.

  At first she felt nothing. Then she realized that it wasn’t just “nothing” that she felt, but rather a lack of anything. If there was really nothing behind the couch, her power would tell her that there was nothing there. Bu
t her power was telling her that whatever was back there had no presence. Almost as if it was muted somehow and she found it frustrating. And worrisome.

  Brone’s grip on her tightened slightly, but she pushed her thoughts of him to the side and sent her power out with a little more force toward the back of the couch. Her power hummed under her skin and her flesh prickled. This time, she felt that nothingness behind the couch begin to give, as if she was pushing against an invisible wall. With a soft grunt of exertion, she pushed her power forward and pierced whatever blocked her from discovering what lay behind the couch.

  There was a hiss.

  Then a startled gasp followed by the sound of tearing fabric.

  Restik shouted to stop it, and the sounds of booted feet running on the hardwood floor echoed around them.

  Arissa opened her eyes and saw a small creature perched on the back of the couch. The fabric was tattered on either side of its back paws as they flexed and dug lethal claws into the cushion. The chain hung from the creature’s thin neck. It stretched tall, and small wings fluttered against its back as its claw-tipped paws kneaded the air. She was looking at a dragon. A young dragon.

  The dragon tilted its head and regarded her, opening its fanged mouth and cawing at her like a loud bird. Images assaulted her mind — of a young boy with raven-black hair snatched away from the bloody arms of his mother. Small cages. Being forced to fight. Starved. Beaten. Her heart clenched painfully, and she cried out as her knees weakened when she realized that the dragon was not a beast but a child, one who had been stolen from his dying mother and treated like a pet.

  Brone growled angrily and pulled her up against him. Tears blurred her vision, but she managed to look up at him and say, “It’s a kid.”

  His eyes flashed angrily, and his fangs seemed to throb in his mouth as he lifted his head and turned his attention to the couch where the visitors were trying to restrain the young dragon who snapped and hissed at them.

  Brone swung her around, and she found herself in Cella’s protective embrace, surrounded by the other family members, as her mate barreled through the visitors with a war cry that sounded as though it came straight out of the depths of hell.