by Lori King
Maybe, just maybe everything will be all right.
But all those pleasant thoughts fly out of my head when I look again into the face of the man who owns my heart. The anguish and confusion I see there tears at my heart and fills me with grief and shame.
I did that. Damn.
4
Jenniene
Before I have much of an opportunity to wallow in my self-loathing over what I have done to Zeke, I am led to a small private office by a very sexy human male with strawberry blonde hair and attractive facial scruff. This male has a bone-deep, Mr. Bad-Ass aura that leaves no doubt as to why he’s VP of a band of Immortal enforcers, even though it’s obvious that he’s human, or at least mostly human. The vibes I read off this male confuse my intuition, making me feel as clueless as I was back when Zeke and I were together. Back before I sought out Immortals who protect mortals and learned how to spot different kinds of supernatural beings so that I could hunt down and destroy those who seek to do harm.
Despite my uncertainty about this male’s true nature, I smile because I can tell this man is able to stand up to any of them. I try to make small talk with the VP while I change the baby’s diaper, but the cagey human obviously isn’t into chit chat with strangers he has no reason to befriend, or even trust. But he does seem to want to help protect the infant. In fact, he insists on holding the child while I wash up. This strong, human male radiates protectiveness toward the child, so I let him hold her while I wash some of the grime from the road and any traces of the most recent diaper change from my person.
When I come out of the bathroom, I am surprised to find the VP and child are gone, but Zeke is waiting for me. There he stands – gloriously shirtless, sexy as nine kinds of delicious sin in his ratty old jeans and battered leather cut. His demeanor is haughty, just daring me to step out of line, as he rests his fine ass on the front edge of the desk, legs crossed at the ankles, and well-muscled arms akimbo. His rich, smooth café au lait skin seems to glow warmly under the artificial lighting, and beckons me to touch, to taste, as memories of our old lives together flood me with regret and shame.
Zeke’s manner has changed considerably in a very short time. He had seemed pretty drunk when I first arrived at the MC, but it appears that he is as sober as a judge now. Why not? He’s got an Immortal’s metabolism. But more importantly, he feels… dangerous, deadly, and wholly focused. The power emanating from my former lover makes me nervous because I know he has no reason to welcome me with open arms.
I look around for the VP and the baby, but Zeke assures me the baby is in good hands. Leaving me with nothing to say or do, but stand there in the bathroom doorway, suddenly feeling exposed, vulnerable, and decidedly unwelcome. I didn’t realize it until right now, but I had been using the kid as a shield to hide behind since I arrived. I was only delaying the inevitable. When Zeke stalks across the room in just a few long strides to tower over me, I stiffen my spine, expecting recriminations, accusations, demands for explanations… anything but what actually happens.
He wraps one of his powerful arms around my waist and pulls my body up and against his own, before leaning down to nuzzle where my neck meets my shoulder. When he inhales deeply, every nerve in my body crackles with electricity, as I struggle to get a toehold on the floor. A deep resonating growl sounds in his chest and then vibrates against my flesh before he inhales again. Honestly, I am not sure how long he holds me against his body, taking in my scent, my essence, and when he finally speaks, it shatters part of my soul.
“I fuckin’ knew I was scenting you, Jenni. I fuckin’ knew it,” Zeke growls in a voice that’s more animal than man. He wraps his other arm around me, holding me tightly against his body before murmuring; “I thought I was losing my fuckin’ mind when I realized I’d confused Susie for you… but it was your scent filling my senses and cloudin’ my fuckin’ mind.” He inhales deeply once again. “I’d know your scent anywhere.”
The reminder of what he had been doing when I walked into the club acts like a bucket of ice water being dumped over my head. Obviously, Zeke has moved on. Time for me to do the same. Take care of what brought me to Tulsa in the first place, and then go home. I belong in New Orleans, not here. I push hard enough to make him loosen his hold on my body. When he does, I blatantly ignore the look of wounded surprise on his face and push past him to yank the office door open.
I find the VP waiting out in the darkened hall with the baby in his arms. The child reaches for me, and the VP silently hands the child off, all the while he’s giving me a look that feels like it’s a mixture of pity and disgust. “Need to make the kid a bottle?” he asks gently. I can only nod wordlessly, and watch Zeke’s retreating back as he strolls out of the office after I do. My former lover saunters silently past me and his MC brother, leaving me alone with the not-so-talkative human and the shifter child that fate has thrust under my protection.
Several long moments of tense silence reign after Zeke disappears into the main part of the clubhouse. I exhale slowly, trying in vain to push back the sea of regrets which seeing my beloved again has brought into my life. The VP watches me like a hawk without saying another word. Eventually, he leads me back to the main part of the strip club after showing me to the kitchen so I could heat a bottle and some baby food. Once we arrive in the cavernous area, I am a bit overwhelmed by the abundance of magick and potent testosterone in the room. It seems the entire MC is assembled and waiting for us.
When I move forward to join the group, Zeke uses one of his booted feet to casually nudge an empty chair my way. I recall the strength of his arms around me, the hardness of his body, his heat, his scent, and the way he breathed me in like he needed my scent to survive. Yet, I see no indication that our encounter in the office affected him at all. In fact, he’s not even looking at me, but the message is still clear: Sit. Here. My former lover looks perfectly at ease, but I know it’s a façade. He’s in turmoil over discovering I am still alive after all this time. I can feel his confusion and a deep sense of betrayal. I have to answer for that – sooner or later. A deep longing to explain myself nearly overwhelms me, but this isn’t the right time. And yet, the need to make things right persists. Before I return to New Awlins I will find a way to make this better, I promise myself silently.
Not wanting to distract the group when I need their support to protect the child, I take the seat beside my former lover, where I quickly begin to feed the baby. She’s a pretty little thing who’s probably a year old or so. This motley crew of bad-ass enforcers all seem to be immediately smitten by my charge. The child, and I by extension, have their full attention.
“What’s your baby’s name?” Zeke asks in a carefully neutral tone.
I shrug. “I have no idea. She’s not mine. I never laid eyes on her until five days ago.”
“You have no idea?” I can hear the tension in the male’s voice. “If this is not your child, how did you come to be in charge of her care?”
I try to focus on feeding the baby while I decide how much I should tell this bunch. Realizing I need them to trust me, I decide complete honesty is the way to go. “Five nights ago, me and couple of my demon chasers tracked a pair of rogue Stone Colds into the bayou. We came across a young human female, clutching this poor baby to her body as she tried desperately to hide among the knees of some ancient cypress trees.”
I look around to all of the assembled enforcers to make sure I have their attention. “This poor mortal woman was covered in bite marks. Ghoul bite marks.” I wait a second to let that sink in. “She begged me and my companions to protect her child, whom she claimed was a sabretooth shifter.” I can see shock on their faces at the claim the child is a sabretooth. Supposedly, the last known shifter of that kind is their leader, Blood. But they are all nodding just the same. Any of them would have willingly taken up the protection of the baby, rare shifter or not, had they been in my shoes. Now I have to admit the part of the story that will probably be fodder for my nightmares for many years to come
.
“Uh, something is happening to the Ghouls down in the Bayous.” I pause, hoping they have already heard of the epidemic we are facing down there. But I am met with blank stares. Shit. “When a Ghoul from a certain clan bites a human, the human victim becomes a Ghoul. It’s a painful, and often deadly, process. Very few humans actually survive the transition. Those who survive, mindlessly obey the clan leader. He’s building an army. They have big plans for some really dark magick on All Hallows Eve.”
Well, that certainly gets a reaction out of the assembled enforcers. Most of them are looking at me with blatant skepticism in their faces. By tradition, a Ghoul must be born of at least one Ghoul parent, or made by a complicated ritual involving exchange of blood and organs with a Stone Cold vampire. The process is dangerous and complicated. That’s probably why the Ghoul population has never really flourished.
It’s the angry little vampire bartender who finally outright challenges my claim. “Bullshit, voodoo queen. There’s no way in hell you are going to convince me a simple bite by a Ghoul can change a human.” Her expression clearly reveals her disdain for me and her unwillingness to listen to the truth. Yep, I knew Zeke’s little vamp buddy was gonna be a problem. I know I need to stand up to her, here and now, this little witchy-vamp will run me over if I don’t.
Without thought, I hand the baby off to Zeke, who takes her automatically, even though he looks as though he has no idea what to do with her once he has her in his arms. I catch myself smirking at his manly discomfiture despite the tenseness of the situation. Lordy, but he’s so cute with a baby in his arms. But I don’t have time to relish Zeke’s momentarily helpless state. I have to deal with his little guard-dog.
I stand and move much faster than any of them expect. Every supe I have ever met reads me as fully human, so seeing what I can do almost always catches them off guard. Without warning, I am in the vampire’s face, snarling angrily. “Listen up, lady vamp, I don’t give a damn what you believe. I don’t give a damn that you have a low opinion of me.” Her attitude angers me, but my conscience reminds me that this vampire is Zeke’s friend. I am momentarily taken aback when I realize her poor estimation of me has merit. “You have reason not to like me. I’ll give you that one. What I did to Zeke back in the day…it was wrong. It was cowardly and it was stupid.” I cast a quick glance at the male in question before I quietly add, “But it’s also between him and me.”
I step back to show her I’m willing to give her space. I’m not afraid to fight this vamp, but it won’t help my current predicament one bit to do so. I need these Immortals as allies to protect the child. I look around the assembled group, meeting the gaze of each individual. “What I am tellin’ you folks right now, it’s the God’s honest truth. And before this epidemic spreads to other Ghoul clans, you folks better listen up. ’Cause Bayou Ghouls being able to change humans ain’t the worst news I got for ya.”
Tara snorts her utter contempt for me before turning on her heel to stomp off behind the bar. I watch as she pours two fingers of some fine Macallan Scotch into a tumbler, all the while glaring daggers at me. Yep, she and I… so not gonna be best buds. I tiredly push the unwashed hair from my face and will the soul-deep exhaustion away. “I don’t have time for this drama. None of us do. The clan will be on us soon.” I move back to my seat and take the baby from Zeke, who had been pretty much ignoring my dust-up with his vampy buddy in favor of making faces for a giggling baby. A pang of deep and ancient longing pierces my heart when I recall the times I wished to have children with this male.
But I push those ancient regrets aside and grin impishly at the disappointed look on his beautiful face when I take the little one back to finish feeding her. Once the jar of food is done, and I settle the baby to take the bottle, Blood chuckles because the little handful begins to squirm and fuss. His deep, rich voice soothes me all the while he’s telling me what I’m doing wrong with the kid. “Bonita is too big to be fed a bottle like a newborn. Unless she is sleepy, frightened or ill, it is likely that a child of her age prefers to sit up to drink from the bottle. She might even prefer a sippy cup.”
I snort and look at the bad-ass enforcer leader and say, “Well, it’s not like Mom had a diaper bag on her person when I found them in the swamp, and I do not know anything about babies. I have never really been around children much.” I blush and look at the floor. “I was an only child. Maman said I was handful enough for three mothers, and she never yearned for more children.”
I’m not really sure why I admit this to a group of strangers. Especially not considering how tense the situation is. Before I know it, several of the burly Immortal enforcers are debating the pros and cons of sippy cups versus bottles, and when it’s safe for an infant to drink whole milk instead of formula, as well as a few issues such as colic, risks of tooth decay, and developing early allergies. I am feeling pretty flummoxed by it and look around the room, hoping one of these bad-ass males will put a stop to this informative, if ill-timed, flood of information about the best way to care for babies.
When I meet Tara’s eyes from across the room, she smirks, almost… playfully, at me. I watch as she pours herself another two fingers of that top-shelf Scotch and sips it slowly with a wicked glint in her eyes. I’m groaning in frustration when Blood and his VP begin a heated debate over which diaper rash treatment works best.
A shrill whistle startles the lively debates into silence. We all look over at the bar, and watch Tara savor the last sip of her very fine liquor before she speaks softly, but with undeniable strength and authority. “So, ladies? Are you ready to put away your sugar teats? Or do you plan on discussing babies until your menstrual cycles sync up?” The vampire plants her hands on the bar top and leans forward to address her fellow enforcers. “Stop embracing your feminine sides and focus on the fucking mission. Whether the voodoo queen is lying or not about the Ghouls, we all know we need to protect the shifter child.”
Amid the groans and smart-ass replies to her insults regarding their manhood, I hear plenty agreeing the child’s needs must come first. The group quickly begins throwing out suggestions to safeguard the child. I’m listening to the cacophony and trying to rate who the strongest enforcers are among the group, but I quickly return my attention to Tara. I feel drawn to her… connected somehow, despite her obvious distrust of me.
The arrogant female vamp meets my gaze and stares daggers at me. When I feel a foreign presence surge against my mental shields, my first response is to keep the interloper out of my mind. But I quickly recognize the vampy witch’s energy and decide to risk letting her read my thoughts. I’m not really sure I can trust her not to try to attack while she’s in there, but I am able to protect myself if she attempts to do more than determine whether or not I am lying. After a few moments, Tara seems satisfied that I am on the level, and I feel her gently ease out of my mind. She has a deft and careful mental touch, and I honestly appreciate her skill. A less skillful psychic can inflict a lot of pain during entry or exit of another’s mind.
The sexy little vamp gives me a silent, nearly imperceptible nod. Obviously, I have passed some kind of test. She puts two fingers between her full lips before emitting another shrill whistle to gain the attention of the squabbling enforcers, again. Under less dire circumstances, the antics of the Twin Ravens would be entertaining as hell. Once they all fall silent, she takes another sip of her whisky and says, “Send the infant and the little voodoo queen to Joker’s place down by Fitzhugh. I’ve personally warded his home. Those Ghouls can’t get through my protection, even if they are able to find them way out there in Bum-Fuck Oklahoma.”
Everyone starts talking at once, and I feel an icy tendril of fear grip my heart because I honestly believe this vampire is suggesting throwing me and that helpless infant to BonFreete and his band of Ghouls just because I broke her friend’s heart. Well, fuck that. If I gotta face the Ghouls alone, I’ll take my friends, the Spell Weavers, up on their offer. I avoided that option because I didn’t want
the Ghouls to follow me and take their brand of black magic to Airendell while the veil is so thin, but I won’t risk the child just because I am not welcome here.
Blood’s quiet, but powerful voice cuts through the confused barrage of comments, questions, and suggestions. “Tara, that would normally work just fine. It’s truly a good idea, or it would be if the child and Mistress Jenniene did not need to remain near the MC for the approaching All Hallows Eve.”
My head whips around and I stare at the enforcer leader, wondering exactly what he knows about me, and how much is conjecture. But he’s absolutely correct that we need to remain here. The infant will be strengthened and protected by the primeval core of benevolent magick here at the MC. As a demon shade, I must remain near a powerful and positive magickal source, and someone who cares about me during the thinning of the veil between the realms, or I will be sucked into the demon realm to become a full demon.
The behemoth leader begins assigning the assembled enforcers various protection details, scouting missions, and even sends someone to shop for more baby items. Finally, he turns his attention to a Ghoul enforcer among their ranks and says, “Writhe, go with Tank and Wrath to see if you can pick up the scent of any new Ghouls. If they are in our territory, I want to know about it sooner rather than later.” The Ghoul opens his mouth, apparently to question the order, when the prehistoric shifter’s cell phone rings. Blood pulls the phone from his pocket and looks at the screen with obvious irritation, but he answers the call just the same.
After a stilted, monosyllabic conversation he disconnects the call and says, “Well, apparently the clan of Ghouls seeking the child are in Tulsa.” He sighs heavily and rises to his feet. “That was one of our contacts with the police department.” He looks disheartened when he shares the news, and I know this is a male who cares deeply for the mortals whom he protects. “A frat house was attacked tonight by Ghouls.” He looks at me to nod. “Obviously, Mistress Jenniene was being truthful, because three of the students who were attacked have arisen Ghoul.”
