by L. L. Raand
“A mercenary by the name of Dru.”
Unsurprised, Sylvan growled. “Francesca’s cat.”
“Yes. She’s recruiting other mercenaries and, from what we were able to ascertain, Vampires at odds with their Clans.”
Jody’s voice was as cold as the coming snow.
“She would be. Francesca needs to rebuild her seethe, so she needs Vampires. But she also needs to assemble an army that can fight in daylight.” Sylvan inhaled a long breath of bitter cold air. Everything that had befallen her Weres—from the attacks on her, to the capture of Katya and Gray, to Andrew’s death—was all part of one huge campaign to ensure Francesca’s continued supremacy. “Francesca never wanted an alliance with humans, and I stood in her way with my support of the Coalition. All that matters to her is power. She will want her Dominion back.”
“Yes,” Jody said. “It will take time for her to become strong enough to challenge my father, but if you were out of the way and the Weres in chaos, she would not have to worry about an army opposing her.”
Sylvan snarled. “Francesca has always been about the long game. She’s patient.”
“Her mercenaries will try to take control during daylight when we are weakest.”
“Then it’s a good thing you have Were allies. Tell me when to send my Weres and we will be there.”
“My father may resist,” Jody said. “He is not as fond of you as I.”
Sylvan laughed. “That may change.”
“Perhaps. You, however, have been an obstacle to Francesca’s plans for too long. I think her patience is running out.”
“Where is she?”
“If I knew that, I would’ve told you already.” Jody’s frustration showed, an unusual lapse for her. “Have you looked out the window?”
“I’m watching the sunrise right now.”
“The cat is clever. She doesn’t leave Raptures until just before sunrise when most of the Risen have already fed and returned to their lairs. My Vampires cannot follow her without risking being caught too far from the lair in sunlight.”
“Then we will have to send a Were to track her.”
“She won’t be easy to track, but I agree.”
Sylvan nodded. “Tonight.”
“I will send a human servant to accompany your Were.”
“That won’t be necessary—”
“I wouldn’t want you to find Francesca’s lair and do anything rash.”
“When we find her,” Sylvan said, “I’ll honor our bargain. We’ll inform you.”
“Then I’ll leave the hunt to you,” Jody said and was gone.
Sylvan stood for another moment feeling the tug of dawn on her wolf. A good time to hunt. She turned to Drake and Niki.
“As we expected. Francesca’s cat is recruiting Weres and Vampires. Jody’s Vampires can’t follow her after dawn, so we’ll need to send one of our Weres to follow the cat home.”
Niki straightened. “I’ll go.”
“No,” Sylvan said with finality.
“I will not arouse attention,” Niki said quietly. “I’ve been there before.”
“And that’s exactly why you’re not going,” Sylvan said.
Niki growled. “I am of no use to you if you do not trust me.”
Sylvan was on her before Niki had a chance to avert her challenging gaze. Sylvan, her canines down, her wolf ready for a tussle, gripped Niki by the back of the neck and thrust her face an inch from hers. “You challenge my orders one too many times, Imperator. I do not need to explain myself to you.”
Niki shivered in Sylvan’s grip. “No, you don’t. But you need a second you trust.”
Drake said mildly from beside them, “What we need, at the moment, is a plan. Bloodshed probably won’t be helpful.”
Sylvan whipped her head around. “Must I argue with everyone?”
“It’s called discussion,” Drake said, stroking Sylvan’s back. “That’s why you have us. Both of us.”
Sylvan still gripped Niki’s neck. “I would not risk you, whether you liked the flavor of Vampire seduction or not. I need you with me when we take Standish’s laboratory, not trailing some feral cat across the state.”
“I’m sorry,” Niki said. “I thought you doubted my ability to resist the bite.”
“I don’t need you to be sorry. I need you to trust my judgment as I trust you.” Sylvan shrugged. “The bite never incapacitated you half as much as your guilt, but that is of no matter now. If you say you are done with it, then it is so.”
Niki ducked her head and rubbed her cheek against Sylvan’s throat. “I trust you in all things, Alpha. And I understand why I can’t go.”
“Good.” With a sigh, Sylvan released her. She glanced at Drake. “We can get Val back from the Blackpaw camp. She’s one of our best trackers.”
Before Drake could answer, another voice filled Sylvan’s mind.
You already have the best tracker Earthside, or anywhere, for that matter.
Sylvan tilted her head and stared at the door. “If you’re listening, you might as well come in.”
The door opened and Torren and Misha entered. Torren had her arm around Misha’s waist. Both wore black camo, but somehow Torren’s garb shimmered as if made from wisps of smoke. Her neck was unmarked.
“I wasn’t planning on listening,” Torren said with a musical smile. “But it’s hard not to hear the shouting.”
“I see you’ve recovered,” Sylvan snapped.
“Completely, thank you.” Torren glanced from Sylvan to Drake. “I owe you my life, and I am in your—”
“No,” Sylvan said sharply. “You are not. You saved my mate and my wolf, and I don’t want a Fae in my debt.”
Torren laughed. “Superstitious?”
“Cautious.” Sylvan stared. “Other than eavesdropping on our conversation, what brings you here?”
“I seek sanctuary with the Timberwolves,” Torren said formally, “for myself and my mate.”
“Your mate,” Sylvan said flatly, eyeing Misha. You’re certain?
“Yes,” Misha said quickly.
“You consent to live under Pack law?” Sylvan asked Torren.
“I would live as close to the Earth as I can,” Torren said, “and we would like to live where Misha may continue to serve the Pack. I will honor your laws.”
Sylvan studied her a moment. The Fae were the most adroit bargainers in the universe. She trusted Torren, but she knew better than to leave any loopholes in a contract with a Fae. “You consent to be bound by Pack law as long as you live on Pack land.”
“So be it.” Torren gave a slight bow. “And I also would serve the Pack, in any way—”
“You may, from time to time,” Sylvan said, “but right now I have other duties for you.”
Torren’s eyebrow winged upward. “Oh?”
“I intend to inform the Fae ambassador, if he hasn’t already slunk back to Faerie, that Cecilia’s presence on the Coalition council is no longer required. You will be the new Fae minister.”
“I’m no politician.”
Sylvan snarled. “Neither am I. But we can’t abandon the Coalition regardless of its lack of effectiveness. The Praeterns are known to the humans now, and there’s no going back.”
Torren pulled Misha closer. “There is no going back.” She nodded to Sylvan. “I will serve.”
“I will grant you space to build your house,” Sylvan said. “I don’t imagine you’ll want to live in the barracks.”
“We are appreciative,” Torren said.
“Thank you, Alpha,” Misha said.
Sylvan fixed Misha with a hard stare. “You will continue to serve Callan as a sentrie. Being mated to the Hunter does not give you special status.”
“Of course,” Misha said, grinning.
“I can track Dru,” Torren said. “I know her scent, and I’ve tracked her before.”
“You’ll also be recognized,” Niki pointed out abruptly.
Torren smiled at Niki. “You really thi
nk so? I am the Master of the Hunt.”
Niki huffed. “As if that explains everything.”
“What would be the point of explaining something far beyond—”
Niki growled.
Drake raised a hand. “Enough competition tonight. The two of you can tussle some other time.”
Niki continued to grumble quietly, but she grinned, and Torren laughed.
“I won’t be recognized,” Torren said.
“Then tonight you will find Francesca’s lair for us.”
“And when I do?”
“The first of our battle lines will be drawn.”
*
“They’re getting stronger,” Sylvan said when she and Drake returned to the den after another run with the young.
“I know.” Drake pulled off her clothes, walked into the bathroom, and started the shower. “Did you notice they’re switching places automatically as we hunt, first one then the other taking the lead?”
Sylvan joined her and they stepped under the spray together. Sylvan threw her head back and let the water run over her face. Spending time with the young was one of the only things that calmed her wolf enough for her to contain the crushing urge in her belly to kill. Somewhere out there, the enemy plotted and planned while she was forced to wait. She was a hunter by nature, she sought her prey, she tracked her prey, she chased it down, and she took it. Now she was forced into the position of being prey, and every fiber of her being resisted. “We might have been wrong about the natural order of things for them. But they’ll work it out.”
“They’ve got a long time to test each other,” Drake said, soaping Sylvan’s back. “Put your hands against the wall. Let me settle you.”
Sylvan laughed harshly. “Is that what you call it now?”
Drake wrapped her arms around Sylvan’s middle and pressed against her back, biting her lightly on the nape. “I call it taking what I want. Would you deny me?”
Sylvan growled softly. “Never, even though I know you’re handling me.”
Drake laughed against the back of Sylvan’s shoulder and slid one hand down Sylvan’s belly between her thighs. “It seems you want to be handled.”
Sylvan pressed her palms hard against the tile wall and closed her eyes. The weight on her back felt right, Drake’s hand enclosing her felt right. Letting Drake take her felt right. “You show me I am more than I thought.”
Drake’s teeth scraped against her shoulder. “You let me be more than I ever was. Now be quiet.”
Sylvan rumbled and gritted her teeth, the urge to pin Drake against the wall and fill her raging through her blood like fire. But Drake wanted something else, and the need to please her outweighed everything. Her hips surged and her ass tightened and she let Drake empty her in long, stomach-clenching waves. She growled softly when she could breathe again.
“Better?” Drake asked.
“Yes.” Sylvan started to turn, wanting Drake. Wanting to be between her thighs, filling her.
“Wait,” Drake whispered, stopping Sylvan from turning.
“You ask much.”
Drake pressed close against her, rubbing against her ass. She set her teeth into Sylvan’s shoulder, gripped her hard and rode her until she released.
“Better?” Sylvan murmured.
“Better,” Drake gasped.
Laughing, Sylvan turned and pulled Drake into her arms and kissed her. “You know me better than I know myself.”
Drake brushed damp strands from Sylvan’s forehead. “I would love you whether you let me or not, but I know you because you let me see you.”
“I love you,” Sylvan whispered.
Drake turned off the water, reached outside for a towel, and draped it around Sylvan’s shoulders. She kissed her softly. “I’m yours.”
The cell rang before they were dressed again. Sylvan picked it up, said, “Mir,” and listened. When she put it down her eyes glowed gold. She looked at Drake. “Becca’s informant called again. This time Becca kept him on the line long enough to trace the call. We have an address.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Three blocks from Raptures, Torren slipped into a dark alley and emerged in the form of a young male wolf Were. Having been immersed in the pheromones saturating the air in the Compound for days, she had no problem assuming the alternate form. She’d likely be taken for a thrill seeker looking for adventure and dangerous sex, not a hard-core mercenary or rogue. No one would give her a second glance. Strolling into Raptures, she headed for the bar and ordered a drink. Nearing two a.m., the small dark room was packed with Vampires and Weres and the daring, or desperate, humans who had come to host. This was not a place where humans were safe. These Vampires accepted no Clan rule and were under no obligation to cease feeding before the host was terminally depleted. More than one human body, drained dry, had been discovered slumped in a doorway of a deserted building in the ten square blocks surrounding Raptures.
The Weres were mostly wolves and a few cats. Most cats didn’t venture as far south as the city, not unless they’d hosted enough to become blood addicted. The wolves were rogues and the rare lone wolf passing through, keeping to the shadows and hoping not to arouse the attention of the ruling Alpha.
Dru wasn’t among the cat Weres interspersed among the customers, but Torren caught traces of her scent lingering around the fringes of the crowd. Satisfied, Torren settled onto a bar stool and sipped the tepid beer. She’d never understood how any species could prefer the grainy taste of beer to the lilting fragrances of wine, but she pretended to savor it. After a few moments, a human female slid onto the seat beside her and leaned too close.
“You look too young to be here,” the buxom blonde murmured softly. Her scent was heavy with arousal and something else—a drug to enhance sexual desire.
Torren produced her best grin. “Is there an age limit?”
She laughed. “There probably ought to be. I was wondering, are you interested in a threesome with one of the vamps?”
“I might be. Maybe a little later. I’m still looking. You have someone in mind?”
She pointed to a lithe, dark-haired Vampire holding court in a booth across the room. He was surrounded by females of all species and pretty, if you liked men with smooth faces, delicate eyebrows, and slender bodies. He reminded Torren of the form so many Fae males assumed Earthside, unconsciously tailoring their physique to reflect their evanescent spirits. “Who is he?”
“That’s Dante,” she said as if Torren should know. “He’s got connections.”
“Connections?” Torren feigned confusion. Could Francesca be so confident as to allow her Vampires to recruit this openly? Or maybe she didn’t know. Her forces must be spread thin, too thin to monitor the activities of everyone in her seethe.
“He says he can take us to some really old Vampires.” She leaned closer, her low-cut shirt gaping to reveal enhanced breasts barely constrained by a frothy bra whose scalloped cups floated under her magenta nipples. “Mmm-mmm. The sex is supposed to be fabulous.”
“Really? I didn’t think the really old ones ever came to places like this.”
“They don’t. But he says it’s not far, and he’ll take us at dawn. What do you think?” As she spoke, she stroked Torren’s leg, cupping the organ between her thighs.
Male bodies were always curious, so unsubtle in their signals. Torren had not the slightest interest in this female but allowed her physical form to respond to the neurological stimulation, almost laughing at the anticipated response. The female’s eyes widened, and she clutched her a little tighter.
“Oh,” she said breathily, “you really, really have to come with us now. I’m going to be thinking about this for the rest of the night.”
“So am I,” Torren said, gently easing the human’s grip. “Would you like a drink?”
“Oh yes. A pink lady. And then let me take you over to meet Dante.”
“All right.” Torren slipped an arm around her waist and signaled to the bartender. “I’d like
that very much.”
An hour and a half later, Torren was settled at a table adjacent to Dante’s booth as the crowd around Dante grew. The humans and Weres were mostly young, and all bore signs of having hosted recently and repeatedly. Many were already addicts or almost there. Torren drank little, said less, and tried to avoid being fed from or otherwise sexually engaged. Dawn was still several hours away when Dru came through the door alone. Dante tried to appear casual, but he followed her movements uneasily. After making a slow circuit of the room, Dru approached and scanned the group surrounding the Vampire. “You’ve been busy.”
Dante grinned cockily. “Just doing my part.”
“The van will be here in half an hour.”
“I was hoping we could party some before we left.” He waved an arm expansively. “Plenty to choose from. I’m happy to share.”
Dru’s lip curled and her canines glinted. “You’ll leave when the van arrives.”
He quickly smoothed away the grimace of displeasure and smiled. “Of course.”
Torren felt Dru’s gaze linger on her for a moment, then skate away. Dru spent the next few minutes talking with several wolf Weres at the bar, paying Dante and his groupies no further mind. Torren couldn’t be certain Dante would lead them all to Francesca and slipped away when the blonde was fawning over Dante. Outside in the shadows, she let the glamour fade and the Hound settled in to hunt the real prey. The cat would lead her to Francesca’s lair, and she and Francesca had unfinished business.
*
Sylvan, Drake, and Niki waited in the great room for word from Jace and Jonathan. The twins had been in position all night at the hotel where Becca’s informant had made his call. So far, they’d spotted nothing.
“They might not recognize him,” Niki pointed out. “One human among so many. How could they tell?”
“Someone will be coming to deliver him to the laboratory—a mercenary or blood servant,” Sylvan said. “They’ll be in a protected limo. Hopefully, the twins will recognize the transport or the escort.”
“If he wants Becca to get the story, he needs to give her more information,” Niki complained. “Don’t you think that feels off? Maybe this is another trap.”
