by Laken Cane
I hoped I would never lose that excitement, but I was a vampire. I’d lose it someday.
But not this day.
Forgetting about executioners and the potential brokenness inside me, I hurried with Angus from the kitchen, my senses exploding with life, love, and the temptation of blood.
He took me to the basement room, perhaps because danger was close and no one was more vulnerable than when in the middle of sex and blood.
Angus opened the door, then pulled me into the room. He pressed my palm against his erection, groaning when I squeezed it.
“Get naked for me, werebull,” I murmured.
He was out of his clothes in sixty seconds flat. He sprawled on the huge bed, grinning up at me, his stare both hot and brimming with love. “Play as you will, Bloodhunter.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice.
I shed my clothes and then jumped on top of him, wallowing around like he was a mountain of smooth, warm silk.
I licked my way down his chest and then slid his hardness into my mouth, careful not to let my fangs drop down and hurt him.
He groaned and buried his fingers in my hair. “I will never get enough of you,” he murmured.
I could live with that.
Life was pretty perfect for a rifter.
Feed, fuck, and fight.
It didn’t get better than that.
Chapter Twenty-One
MAGIC
I placed Silverlight on a side table and gazed happily around the crowded kitchen.
“Better?” Angus asked, smiling down at me.
I nodded, overflowing with the goodness of his blood and the joy of his noisy children.
“Trinity!”
I looked up just as Derry barreled into me, and returned her hug tentatively as I waited for her to realize that I was no longer the person she remembered.
It was as though she had no idea that I might have doubts, or that I believed she should. She was the same as she’d always been. To her, so was I.
“I missed you,” she said, then grabbed my hand and pulled me to the table. “We all did. Dad, did you tell her that Shelby got his shift, and Lindsey was apprenticed to a witch?” She chattered on, and I sat soaking up the noise and laughter and warmth. That kitchen was brighter than any sun.
They dug into the food Jin placed before them, and when I glanced at his almost cheerful face, I realized I wasn’t the only one who missed the sound of laughter around the kitchen table.
“I didn’t get anything,” one of the little girls said glumly, and Derry hastened to make her feel better.
“You will someday, sweetie.”
“Daddy always says that too.” The little girl—Natalie—picked up her fork and poked at a mound of potatoes. “But it never happens.”
“You’re only seven years old,” Angus said, leaning over to drop a kiss on the child’s head before taking a seat beside me. “My girls are too impatient.” He winked at me. “All of them.”
But a sudden chill washed over me, and I didn’t return his smile. “Angus,” I said, without meaning to, “I love you.”
Everyone quieted, then Derry rushed in to fill the suddenly uneasy silence. “I love you too, Daddy.”
“Me too,” one of the little boys pipped up, then everyone in the room decided that they loved Angus and should tell him so as quickly as possible.
I couldn’t help but laugh, but the chill lingered.
Clayton and Rhys walked into the kitchen smiling, and Angus roared a welcome and thumped the table so hard the plates jumped. “Sit and eat,” he demanded. “If you don’t mind a roomful of noisy children.”
Jin sat full plates before them almost before they were settled into their chairs, and I was sure, even over the noise, that I heard him humming.
“Where’s Leo?” I asked, watching everyone eat, tempted to try a bite myself. If I hadn’t been reasonably sure I’d throw it up immediately and ruin everyone’s meal, I might have tried. “He likes to eat.”
“I’m here,” Leo said, from the doorway.
Shane was beside him.
I watched my hunter, thrilled he was joining us, afraid to speak up and spook him.
Angus had no such fear. “Jin,” he called. “Find an extra chair for Shane and Leo.” He lowered his voice. “I got Shane a phone,” he told me. “He asked for one. He’ll be okay, Trin.”
My heart lightened further. Shane was using a phone, coming in to the brightness of the house, and so far, he hadn’t killed anyone. Things were looking up.
Leo went with Jin and returned with two rather heavy patio chairs. “They will have to do,” he said, when I lifted an eyebrow. “If this becomes a regular occurrence, we will need another table and more chairs.”
“Scoot, children,” I said, and two of the older ones pushed their chairs apart to make room for Shane and Leo.
I watched Shane from the corner of my eye, hoping to appear casual, pretty sure I was failing miserably.
He couldn’t eat, was still mad as hell, and didn’t seem overly eager to be in the same room with me, but he sat. He glanced at me once, then looked away.
Shane was lonely.
In the way station kitchen, at that moment, was only happiness. We all felt it. But things could change in the blink of an eye.
And I blinked.
Jin turned from the stove. “Darkness,” he almost shrieked. “He’s here.”
The children immediately dropped their forks and stared at Angus, waiting for him to tell them what to do.
“How the fuck did they get here without anyone seeing them?” Angus roared.
Magic, that was how. Fucking magic.
I stood and strode across the kitchen floor, pausing to snatch up Silverlight and sling the sheath over my shoulder. All five men were warm and ready at my back. “Bastards,” I muttered. They’d ruined a perfect night.
“Stay here,” Angus told his kids.
“Daddy,” little Natalie called. “I’m scared.”
Derry rushed to comfort the child, but when I glanced back, what seemed like a sea of pale faces stared back at me.
Life was hard for a supernatural child.
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Angus told me. He didn’t have to tell the others to watch my back. He knew they would.
He rushed back to the children and I could hear him murmuring to Natalie as I left the kitchen and went to meet the executioners.
We didn’t want to fight. Not right then. People would die—likely our people—so we would put off that eventuality for as long as we possibly could.
“Rhys,” I said, as the pounding began on the front door.
“No,” he answered.
“They don’t know Rhys is the dragon,” Clayton reassured me. “He’s safe.”
“No one is safe,” I said.
“Open the door,” Shane said, his voice tight with excitement.
He was spoiling for a fight, and I knew exactly how he felt. That same excitement lived inside me.
Who could be afraid when they were brimming with cold, killing joy?
“Here we go,” I muttered, and pulled Silverlight from her sheath as I flung open the door.
“Hello,” Aspen said, smiling. “You didn’t think we were going to leave you alone, did you?”
“I think you will when I deprive you of your head,” I replied, way more calmly than I felt.
She laughed but I turned my attention to Safin, the only one who really mattered. Safin was my equal. His people were not.
Those eyes. They held me pinned to the spot, fascinated, afraid, intrigued. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a liar, Safin,” I lied.
“I would like to make sure there’s no dragon hiding under your bed.” He gave a deliberate pause. “Or in it.”
“Move aside, Sinclair,” Aspen said, “before we make you move.”
Angus was suddenly there, his body pressing against my back. “Threaten her again,” he said, his voice quiet, “and I will kill you whe
re you stand.”
Aspen paled.
No one doubted that the werebull could—or would—do as he promised.
“While I’m in Red Valley,” Safin said, “Bay Town belongs to me. If you prefer a show, I can surround this place with fire and bullets and force my way in.” He waited.
Angus’s children were inside. The last thing I wanted was bullets flying over their heads. I should never have asked Angus to bring them there. But it was the way station. It belonged to Himself, really, didn’t it?
It should have been off limits to a bunch of assholes wanting to kill supernaturals.
It should have been.
Apparently, it wasn’t.
“Make it quick.” And I moved aside.
Aspen smirked, and I made a mental note that before it was all over, I was going to hurt her.
She saw that dark promise in my eyes and as she passed me, she bumped me with her shoulder like a bully in a school hallway. “Looking forward to it, vampire,” she said. She pointed a thumb at her fellow bully. “This is Edgar, by the way.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” I said.
Edgar peered into the kitchen, then quickly stepped through the doorway. “What is this, some kind of supernat school in your kitchen?”
The children were gathered into a knot of fear, the bigger children surrounding the smaller ones. They recoiled when the large human, covered in weapons and tattoos—sidled toward them.
But Angus planted himself quickly and firmly between the executioner and the kids. “They’re off fucking limits, asshole.”
Edgar narrowed his eyes, folded his arms, and glared at Angus. “You’re awful brave for a supernat who has human authority in his house. You might want to step the fuck away, asshole.”
Angus cracked his neck and loosened his shoulders. “Safin.”
Mikhail leaned against the doorway, his stare amused but watchful. “Yes?”
“Do you want to control your goon or should I do it for you?”
Enraged, Edgar didn’t wait for Mikhail to speak. With a growl, he went for Angus.
“Daddy,” someone cried, and immediately Angus’s attention snapped to his children.
Edgar punched him in the jaw, and Edgar was neither small nor weak. And even as Angus staggered back, Natalie broke free and ran screaming toward him. “Don’t hurt my daddy!”
Angus shot Edgar a look that promised retribution, then leaned forward and scooped up his little girl.
The men and I faced off against the executioners as Angus assured Natalie that he was fine. Derry and one of her brothers waited to take the frightened child from Angus’s arms, but she buried her face against his neck and sobbed as though her heart were breaking.
Most supernat kids grew hardened to the brutality they witnessed—brutality that was so frequent it was somewhat normal and always expected. But Natalie was different. Delicate. Shocked by violence and horrified that her precious father might be hurt.
Poor kid. She had an innocence most nonhuman children lost early, and as I watched Angus soothe her, an icy chill slipped down my spine.
Something had happened to me when Amias had brought me back. I was getting useless premonitions way too often, and I didn’t want them. What good were they?
They were indistinct and confusing and told me nothing.
Still…
“Angus,” I said. “Give her to me.”
He frowned. “Trin…”
“I need to take her home.”
He transferred the child into my arms. There was a question in his eyes, but I couldn’t answer it. I just needed her with me. I needed to protect her.
“Gather the children, Derry,” I said. “I’m taking you home.”
“I’ll go with you,” Leo said.
Edgar held up his hands and shocked us all. “Wait,” he said, his voice gruff. “I apologize for being a dick with children in the room. I…” He shook his head and ran a hand over his face, then eyed Natalie. “I’m sorry, little girl.”
Natalie raised her head off my shoulder and looked at him. “You are?”
His face softened. “Yes.”
“Okay.”
He gave her a smile that transformed his face.
Darkness grew tired of watching a scene that was quickly turning soft and uninteresting. “Edgar, are you coming, or have you decided to stay here and be the baby minder?”
Edgar flushed.
With a last glance at the children, he left the kitchen.
“I’m taking the kids home,” I told my men. “Don’t let those assholes out of your sight.”
“No.” Derry said. “Harlan drove his car, and I drove mine. We’ll take them back, Trin. I want you to…” She glanced at her dad, and I understood. She wanted me to stay there and take care of him.
Angus snorted and shook his head in disgust, but his stare was soft as he eyed her. “Get them home, then, girl.”
Harlan, one of his older sons, took Natalie. “Call me if you need me, Dad.”
Angus kissed the boy’s forehead. “I will.”
As the children hurried through the kitchen doorway, we went after the executioners, unwilling to let them explore the house without supervision. God knew what they’d get up to.
In my bedroom—my former bedroom—Darkness stood in the middle of the room, getting his impressions. “Where do you sleep now?”
I curled my lip. “You know I’d never tell you that.”
“Is it true,” Aspen asked, “that you’re banging all these men? Vampires and giants and weres…” She winked. “Oh my.”
I smiled. “Jealous?”
“Maybe.”
In another time, if she hadn’t been an executioner, I might have liked Aspen.
Maybe I’d even have liked Edgar.
Darkness…no.
Not so much.
“Somewhere close,” he said.
“She won’t stray far from her bounty of warm flesh,” Aspen agreed.
I crossed my arms and said nothing.
“Give me the name of the dragon,” Safin said. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t change expressions, but the command was strong.
And he had absolutely no doubt that I would give him the name. Maybe not right then, but eventually, I would cave.
But he didn’t know me at all.
From the corner of my eye I saw Rhys stiffen just the tiniest bit.
“Finish your search and get the hell out of my house,” I said. “I don’t know who he is, and I wouldn’t tell you if I did. You’re wasting your time. And mine.”
He studied me for a few seconds, his gaze considering. “I see a human peeking through those lovely eyes,” he told me. “But I also see a monster. Which one, I wonder, will win when I start cutting little pieces off the ones you care about?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
RAGE
Not one of us could speak. Not at first, not while we tried to absorb the terribleness of the words Darkness had just uttered.
A trembling began deep in my belly and traveled slowly toward my chest. Right before my heart was overtaken, however, I reached down even deeper than the shaky terror and surrounded my heart with something fear couldn’t penetrate. Ice. Black, cold ice.
Safin gave me a nod, his stare never leaving mine. “That’s what I thought.” Then he gestured to Aspen and Edgar, and they followed him from the room without a word.
But when Aspen looked at Safin, she had a spark of curiosity in her eyes.
No one spoke again until we stood outside, my line of supernats facing off against his line of executioners.
“The dragon,” he said.
I shook my head. “We don’t have the dragon. We don’t know who he is.”
He gave me a sharp nod. “All right. We’ll do this the hard way.”
“Do it any way you want,” I told him. “It won’t make a dragon appear.”
His freaky golden eyes seemed to burn into my brain, but I couldn’t look away. If I looked away,
he would see it as weakness. And the last thing I wanted was Mikhail Safin to see any of us as weak.
“The mayor told us you’re leashed by the very people who hired you,” Rhys said, surprising me. Not because of his words, but because he’d spoken up at all. He was drawing attention to himself. “You’re not permitted to stomp into Bay Town and start torturing nonhumans.”
“I am not permitted to slaughter a town of nonhumans,” Safin said, as though he took Rhys’s words seriously and wished to better explain the facts to him. “At least, not without provocation. I am, however, free to torture a select few.” His smile was polite.
It was still scary as fuck.
He waited a few seconds to see if Rhys wanted to argue.
Rhys did not.
Unable to resist, I slipped my hand into the dragon’s.
He squeezed my fingers, gently.
Safin’s stare traveled from my face to our laced fingers, and a whisper of a frown caused a line to appear between his brows, there and gone so quickly I thought I might have imagined it.
He looked up and caught me watching him, and there must have been something in my eyes he didn’t like. When he next spoke, there was a thin undercurrent of anger in his voice.
“You’ll force me to hurt your people.”
Angus didn’t wait for me to speak. Vibrating with rage and frustration, he faced down the executioner. “And you will force us to kill you.”
Aspen closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose, as though she were too exasperated for words. “Don’t make this into a war you can’t win. If you care about the other trash in this town, you’ll give us the fucking dragon.” She shook her head and spread her hands, her voice almost cajoling. “We’ll get him anyway. Why make us cause so much pain first? Hmm? Our boss won’t like it, your boss won’t like it…I mean, come on.”
Perhaps the worst thing was that she was dead serious and truly confused.
Her threat had the opposite effect on me than the one she’d intended. She threw her words like poisonous darts, and the weight of them, added to Safin’s cruel promises, was the tipping point.
