Nightshade's Bite (Blood Wars)

by Zoe Forward

  She examined the menu before calmly placing it on the table. “He was unhappy I forced the issue of saving him. Now I plan to rescue a stolen baby, which was the reason he went to Paris in the first place.”

  “Uh-huh.” He peered at her through narrowed eyes. “He acted possessive of you when he got off the bike. Explain that.”

  Deep breaths. Slow your heart rate. Which was freaking impossible. She must try to hide her feelings from Andrew, who knew her well, although not as well as Finn. Yet, unlike Finn, she didn’t trust Andrew to keep secrets if tortured. This would be one of the most difficult acting challenges of her life. She screwed up her face. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?” His lips thinned. “Makes sense you’d prefer them. Makes your commitment to killing yourself to save them more logical.”

  “The reason I do this isn’t that I’ve got a secret fetish for werewolf sex. As I told you last year, I owe them for protecting me several times through my life. I simply don’t agree with annihilating them for monetary gain or enslaving them again. You’ve been helping me for years. Do I need to question your reasons to be in this?”

  She reached deep, drawing forth her empathy ability, which she normally didn’t turn on with Andrew. He liked his privacy.

  Shit, he was jealous. He wanted her. That made everything ten times more complicated and dicey.

  He didn’t back off. “I’m not blind. He touched you in a way that was…it looked pretty sexual. Something happened between you two.”

  She was outwardly as casual as she could manage, controlling her heart rate to an easy tempo. “There’s nothing between him and me other than my feeling a little awe that I met the Michael Durand. He’s the super shit that plans all wolf offensives in this hemisphere. I’m surprised to discover he’s not psycho as rumors indicated. Hunting vamps is etched in his soul, though. They did terrible things to him that he’ll never get over. Yet you think he wants to take one of us to bed?” She tilted her head to the side, scrunched up her lips, and shook her head. “That’s absurd. He’s in love with his hate. Plus, if I bite him, I die. You know the drill.”

  “He didn’t kill you. Didn’t even attempt it; at least, that’s what Finn said.”

  Checking up on me, were you?

  Got to sell this. He wasn’t buying it.

  She didn’t want to hurt Andrew. It wasn’t that she needed his help—the League could go on without him—but she cared for him. Sure, he’d bed-hopped over the years, but in a weak moment, he’d admitted to her he did so in search of something deeper. He wanted a connection with another being.

  This anger of his wasn’t about species taboo. This was about him thinking he’d found that connection with her and freaking out she might have connected with someone else.

  She took Andrew’s hand in hers. His pulse picked up, and his pupils dilated as his gaze locked onto her neck. Classic vamp tell that he had sex on the brain.

  She said softly, “I’m sorry we never had a moment. I rely on you. I’d put down my life for yours in a heartbeat. But I’m not…” She glanced away and swallowed. This wasn’t an act anymore. This came from her soul. “I’m just not able to be with anyone in the way you want. Not again.”

  That’d been her line for decades. Until last night. If only biting Michael wouldn’t kill her. That aside, she liked being with him, helping him with nightmares, having an almost knife fight…

  Good grief, she was in trouble.

  Andrew brought her hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on the top of her knuckles. The cool softness of his lips tickled but didn’t make her have trouble breathing or escalate her heart rate. “I’m sorry for everything that bastard of a mate did to you. I’m not sad Armand is dead, but it’s been well over fifty years. One day, I hope you’ll want more.”

  She smiled sadly. “I hope so, too.”

  “Be careful, love. That wolf feels way more than gratitude toward you.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” A weight pressed down on her chest. “I’ll never see him again.”

  …

  Michael strode around the ancient stone house on a remote farm twenty miles outside of Warsaw. He pulled the ends of the winter jacket he’d neglected to zip tight to ward off the chill as he navigated the iced-over stone steps that led down to the barn.

  He was here to get answers, which might help him understand what happened with Kiera—the new emotions and almost sleeping with her—and how the hell to move beyond it. His head wasn’t anywhere it needed to be, not after the half-assed responses he gave to over forty emails during the flight. All from his people, expecting the single-minded vampire-hater and war general to plan their next attacks. And to pat his back and give him inspirational oorahs.

  What the hell was wrong with him? His sole drive since he exited the tunnel was to return to her. He had no desire to deal with war minutia, which until forty-eight hours ago had been his life’s purpose. Now, he wanted one more of her smiles, maybe another cup of that awful tea, or even a chest poke when she got angry. The thought made his heart pound hard and shot an adrenaline rush through him.

  He didn’t do this—happiness. He did gloom, doom, and vampire killing.

  What was he thinking? He couldn’t see her again. Another night like last night and naked would be unavoidable. They wanted each other too much. Then she’d bite him and die because of their lack of control. Not an option. He would figure out how to erase this insane fixation on her. It was the only way to save them both.

  Highlighted by the moon, Blay beckoned him into an ornate tack room with a wood-burning fireplace. Inside, the ancient werewolf leaned against a wood-paneled wall, broad and threatening and not the least bit relaxed. Like Michael, he kept his dark hair long, a carryover from bygone days. Pop culture influence inspired newer generation wolves to cut their hair short and shave facial hair. Damn if the two of them couldn’t be ranger characters in The Lord of the Rings with a slight wardrobe adjustment.

  Blay’s eyebrows rose.

  Oops. He might’ve grinned over the Tolkien character assessment. If he had to explain that to Blay…yeah, he’d never live it down.

  “Why are you here?” Blay asked. “Sixty-one years. Not a peep. Why now?”

  Michael hung his head. “I’m sorry. For all I said long ago about you losing your mind when you mated a vampire and for being a shitty friend. I’m here because…” He tugged his hair back and released a long exhale. “Kiera Rossard.”

  Blay tensed. “Hurt her and I’ll kill you. She’s a godsend for our people.”

  “I don’t want to hurt her. Far from it.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Met her and she’s got me messed up. I’m feeling shit again. Ennui is gone.”

  “Really?” Blay held up a flask. “You need a drink?”

  “I think I do.”

  Blay tossed the flask his way.

  He unscrewed the cap and gulped the hard liquor. His throat burned as the Scotch slid down. “Thanks.”

  He threw the flask back and cleared his throat. Nerves twisted his gut. “I should’ve listened when your life went to hell. I felt betrayed when you…and a vampire. It shouldn’t have mattered. I should’ve helped you find your mate’s murderer.” Blay had always been the first in line to stand next to him against vamps or quick to defend him to others, right up until the moment he’d met the vampire he fell in love with. Then things got blurry for Blay. Michael had lost trust in his loyalty and cut ties.

  “When she died…without Arie I’ve been…I won’t lie: there are some rough days. Lexan has been there when he can, but the king duties keep him busy. I missed you, Michael.”

  “I’m sorry. Jesus, I’m so sorry.”

  “You’re here now. I’ll take it.” Blay stepped forward and slapped the flask back into Michael’s hand. “You’re going to need all of this, my friend. She’s wormed her way under your skin. You’re
here because you’re chewing yourself from the inside out to deny it. I know that bitter hell. I mated her sister, who was over a hundred years younger than Kiera and far less complicated.”

  “I thought you were insane to mate her.” It’s why they hadn’t spoken in so long. Even though Blay had been the one to pull him out of the grave when Michael had been buried alive. He said it took a day longer than it should’ve because he couldn’t find a shovel.

  “Insanity…love…they’re the same. I did lose my mind. I loved her with everything that I am. Still do, even though she’s gone.”

  “I’m not interested in Kiera for…” The l-word caught in his throat. “No. That’s not why I’m here. I just can’t figure out her motives.”

  “Not interested, huh? Sure. You tell yourself you don’t want her naked beneath you with your teeth buried deep in her shoulder to justify why you flew almost two thousand miles to ask me about a member of the species you’re at war with. You want to know how to deal with her wanting to bite you. Vampires and sex, you know.” He tilted his head to the side, gripped Michael’s arm, and tugged him toward the door. “Damn, it’s good to see you messed up over a girl. It’s good to see you being you again and not all tight-ass about species purity or an idiot about another war.”

  Some of the tension in his shoulders eased. “How did you deal with her wanting to bite?”

  He threw his head back and laughed, deep and hearty. “For being a crap friend for decades, I’m not going to tell you yet. Come. Let’s eat.”

  “I deserve that,” he grumbled.

  Blay led him back to the main house. The less formal kitchen table was set for two. A subservient male werewolf bowed as he entered, waiting until they’d been seated to place a cornucopia of food on the table. Huge platters piled with meats and vegetables were laid between them. Michael’s stomach rumbled.

  “How was it in Paris when Kiera showed up?” Blay selected a few pieces of meat, maneuvering his utensils far more deftly than most would believe possible. His hands, like the rest of him, were huge. Michael wasn’t small by any means, but Blay had at least eighty pounds of solid muscle and bone on him. “Eat, please. I insist.”

  He cleared his throat, wishing his face didn’t feel like it was on fire.

  “She saved your ass, did she? Bet that was a humiliation and a half.” He paused before his next bite to grin. The bastard enjoyed this far too much.

  “I faced off with a group of Squad vamps on my own. I had it under control. I had a fucking plan. Then she showed up and put me in a box. She kidnapped me and took me back to her place in Calais.”

  “Bet she looked good kicking your ass, didn’t she?”

  Yes. Smelled amazing, too. “She’s not what I expected.”

  Blay poured two glasses of red wine. He raised his glass and waited until Michael returned the gesture. “Cheers. Damn glad you came over tonight.”

  Michael speared a piece of beef and chewed.

  Blay said, “Kiera is a species unto herself. Her sister was as strong in spirit, but my Arie was gentle. Kiera is feisty, mouthy…hell, she’s a force of nature. She’s done so much for our people over the years.” He dropped all humor. “Let me say this clearly so you understand. If you do anything that hurts her, we’ll see each other on opposite sides of the battle. There’ll be a line several deep standing behind me to defend her.”

  “A lot of wolves seem to owe her or are quick to jump to her defense.”

  “I like that you like her.” He paused before he took his next bite. A slow, knowing smile kicked his lips upward. “How’d she react to you?”

  “After she stuffed me in a coffin, she told me I had some sort of enthrallment vibe like Lexan.”

  “I don’t remember you having that. Is it new?”

  “Hell, no. Usually, everyone can’t get out of the room fast enough when I enter. Wolves are terrified I’ll go on a psychotic killing spree. With humans, I can’t hide what I am. And vampires usually just want to try to kill me—or run, if they’re young and weak. Kiera, though, kept fanning her face, and she almost fainted.”

  “Love to have seen that.” Blay’s humor dissolved. “Do you need me to confirm her cause is real and she’s the genuine article? She’s legit. She despises the Foundry as much as we do.”

  “I needed perspective.”

  Blay stroked his beard and contemplated him. “You’re old as shit. You’re alone, which is a miserable existence.” His shoulders sagged and his eyes unfocused, as if he’d gone inward with his memories. “Fate is an evil bitch, my friend. I can’t see anything working out well between you and Kiera. There’s simply no path that doesn’t lead to one of you dying. What you feel isn’t enough to keep her safe.”

  He knew Blay wasn’t just talking about Kiera but his own loss of Arie. He wanted to offer solace, but of those he’d known who lost a mate, words did nothing to provide comfort. A werewolf pairing was formidable, profound, and once in a lifetime. It was biology and something…more. It went beyond what other species passed off as love. Rarely, a wolf bonded with a human and even rarer a member of another species, although Blay was the only one he was aware of who’d bonded a vampire.

  “Viktor’s blackmailing her into giving him our cure to the virus. Why would he wait this long to try to wrangle it out of us? What’s in it for him now other than the potential to save some of their food source?”

  Blay chewed slower then took a drink of his wine, obviously going over the possibilities in his mind. “Did she ask you about the cure?”

  Michael shook his head.

  Blay’s eyebrows shot up. “That lady’s got class. I’d bet my life on her not giving Viktor anything he wants. What’s he using to blackmail her?”

  “He kidnapped her other sister, Carol. He’ll trade her life for the information on the cure. If she refuses to help, he’ll kill Carol.”

  Blay jolted to a stand, color suffusing his face. “He has Carol? Goddamnit!” he yelled. “Karlos, get your ass in here. Why didn’t we know Viktor caught Carol?”

  Karlos appeared. “I only heard moments ago when I checked in to see if the family she flew over from the States made it to Brussels. They didn’t. Carol never met our people in London. If they have Carol, we have to assume the wolves are…”

  “Dead.” Blay covered his face. “Damn it. Vee is going to kill me. I promised her I’d take care of Carol when she arrived, that I’d get her aunt to her safely.” He whipped around and punched the wall. “Fuck.”

  Michael still had trouble wrapping his mind around Blay having a daughter, a half-vampire, half-werewolf daughter.

  Blay stared out the window, opening and closing the hand whose knuckles bled from the punch. “Karlos, see if you can find out where they have Carol. I doubt it, but we have to see if we can beat Kiera to rescuing her. It’d get one stress off her plate.”

  “You think she’ll give them the cure if we gave her information on it?” Michael asked.

  Blay threw himself back into his chair. “Nope. She’ll do something heroically stupid to save Carol. We can only hope Andrew doesn’t get involved. He’ll push her to be even more reckless.”

  “Do you think she’s involved with Finn or Andrew?” He let the words slip out before he could stop them. “I mean, who knows?” An attempt to laugh it off came off awkward as fuck.

  Yeah, he just proved he was jealous as hell over the concept of her and either of those two.

  A smirk passed over Blay’s lips, but he didn’t comment, and for the first time since arriving, Michael relaxed. This guy understood his living hell.

  Blay drummed his fingers. “The timing on Viktor going after the cure is weird. He could’ve done this six months ago. I bet it has to do with his blood banks.”

  A new target for us to hit? Michael waited for him to reveal more. When Blay didn’t, he asked, “What blood banks?”

/>   “You don’t know Viktor built underground blood banks where he houses virus-free humans and from whom he harvests blood?”

  Michael shook his head.

  “Your intel people suck. We’ve known this since he started. The banks are literally underground in the catacombs of Paris. He uses mind manipulation to make the donors willing volunteers. Doing this corners the market on providing clean blood to his people. Quite a lucrative business for him. However, the non-infected population dwindles. If he can cure more willing participants, then his inventory increases.”

  “You don’t think he’d want to provide a cure worldwide? Save even more humans? He could charge a fortune and make a shit ton more money on that.”

  Both he and Blay froze at the same moment.

  “Viktor doesn’t care about being a hero,” Michael whispered. “Maybe he’s in it for the money. More likely it’s the power it gives him over his people to have the monopoly on selling blood.”

  “He infected the humans on purpose…” Blay blew out a long hiss of air and twirled his wineglass. “Brilliant from a business perspective, but diabolical to have done so to narrow the market on untainted blood. My researchers have wondered how what started out as a virus strictly confined to werewolves changed so much from Viktor’s first use of it as a chemical weapon to his second wave of virus release that easily jumped species. We thought maybe he’d modified it to take out wolf mixes, although ironically, they’re immune to the second-generation virus.”

  “Why would he release it at all without a cure?”

  Blay shrugged. “Viktor is as bright as a black hole and twice as dense. He probably fucked up and killed his scientist too soon.”

  This boded poorly for Kiera. “If he’s willing to go to that length to control the market, then he’s not going to let Kiera survive once she gives him the cure.”

  “She’s in the middle of a death trap. I bet the Foundry is involved and profiting,” Blay said. “I’ll tell her. Shouldn’t be done over phone or through an electronic device since they leave a signature. We’ve got spies. Viktor has spies. The Foundry has spies. China watches us, probably for them. Electronics…the internet…it’s a global conspiracy to steal our privacy.”