Captiva Craving - Vampire Werewolf Menage (Six Feet Under Series Book Two) (16 page)

Everything below receded as they drifted over the city, spreading their physical forms across the way. The stars were not shining, but the moon stood bright. His mind always emptied when in this state, his slow motion button tapped on his inner remote. An extraordinary experience he never tired of, though he had traveled this way all his life, countless times since his childhood.

A place where he could study the fragments of the world around him, bits here, places there.

Wormholes there.

He nearly froze over the river, his bodily molecules swarming around him. Kash whirled around him in a warm gust, urging him on, reminding Sixten they had no time to dally.

But I’m not dallying.

No, no, he was discovering.

Qudir’s earlier words struck him hard: “You’re like a key, Six,” the commander had said, “a freaking key opening their hidden lair.”

What if I am?

He had no time to think about it now.

They reached the airport, misting in behind the largest hangar. A soft gasp left Kash’s mouth. When Sixten turned to look, a Stavz was pushed against his cheek. They’d definitely misted in the wrong spot.

“Hello, Vojak,” its voice greeted him pleasantly, though the Stavz gave Sixten other ideas.

“Ambassador,” Sixten corrected just to be snarky. His eyes flicked down to the cold metal pressed against his skin. Three days of painful regeneration was not on the menu. He glanced back up where the Habaline smiled like a pirate over newfound booty. Sixten had invented that look and didn’t like it used back on him.

The Habaline blinked in confusion, but kept the weapon where it was. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He may have fucked Sheila and not remembered it, but he definitely would have remembered this guy. He was a strangely blooded mixture Sixten didn’t have time to sort out. “I didn’t expect to see you anywhere,” Sixten said. “Clearly, you have my attention.”

“Your father…” a gasp left his throat, far louder than he had heard from Kash. His eyes glittered like the scorching dessert as he sank to his knees, opening his mouth before dropping the Stavz. He died before he could finish.

Bane was on the other side, wiping the blood off a Habaline blade. “What was he jabbering about?” He cocked a dark brow, his eyes flipping between his kill and Sixten.

“Jabbering about?” Sixten was not going to let that one fly. His secrets were his own. “You could have let him have at me before you took his life.” Or waited until he delivered a pertinent message.

“I welcomed you to the family.”

“Right,” he laughed mirthlessly, “one happy family.” Minus Blythe. Kash stood up, walking toward them, though he was missing a large chunk of his throat. “You gonna bleed out?”

“No. A couple of surface cuts.” He shrugged, flicking a glance toward Bane. The Beta was already walking away.

“I don’t owe you,” Sixten called out. He could have taken the Habaline, but needed to hear his message first. Bane had actually screwed him over. Problem was, the Beta was trying to do right by him.

“I know.” He kept moving toward Oycher. All battles had ceased and those walking were gathering the wounded.

“I get it, though.” Although he would never trust Bane, Sixten was going to get this over with for Blythe’s sake. “Your protectiveness as a male over your familial female…I get it.” He lowered his voice, the syllables strangling him on the way out, “Someday, if I’m lucky, Blythe might have my daughter.”

Bane stopped, but he didn’t turn around. So Sixten continued, “I wouldn’t want her to mate someone like me, either.”

The Beta’s hands fisted a couple of times before he said, “Neither would I.”

Oycher signaled Sixten and Kash. “Head to the Sanctuary. Maestru has a live one.”

Without another word, Kash and Sixten misted over to Captiva Island.

Bane knelt down next to Dru, and Oycher followed him. Blood smeared his long hair, yet a wide smile split his face. His orange eyes danced when he praised, “You did good, Doc.”

“How… you figure… that?” Dru delivered an are-you-nuts look. “I didn’t get… in one punch… and half my body is… destroyed.”

“You’re still intact.” Bane surveyed the damage. “Leg’s a mess, though. I had half a dozen going at me while trying to get to you.”

Dru’s male pride chaffed. “I’ve fought creatures for centuries.”

“I’m sure you have, but how many were Habalines?” Oycher cocked a mahogany brow.

“I…lost…count,” he lied and everyone knew it.

“It took Vojaks, Species soldiers, three werewolves,” Oycher explained away Dru’s inadequacy, “and our very own Coven Master to end this party.”

“And you were jumped from behind,” Bane said as he pulled his shirt over his head, tearing it into strips so Dru could have a much-needed tourniquet, “which is
always
a disadvantage.”

“I was… supposed to…
Skype
Renee tonight,” Dru said with disappointment and maybe a touch of delirium. “She and Arian… were going to put on…” At Bane’s conciliatory look, he continued, “Well, she can’t see me…
this
way.”

“No way that’s gonna happen,” the Beta agreed.

Dru glanced over at Oycher, watching as he read a text. “I scent your… adrenalin rush. What is… it?”

“As I said earlier,” Oycher explained, stashing his phone, “you did well tonight, Doc. You evened out an ambush, just by your call to Maestru. And get this; the second he misted in, he scented something in this area that may lead us to Sixten’s Blythe.” He turned to Bane. “Qudir, a half dozen of our soldiers, and your guard are wiping the humans and scanning the airport’s computer system as we speak. Flight plans and security footage are priority one. Mind you, Maestru’s going by
theory
alone, but Blythe may have been brought through here.”

“Left on a plane?” Bane asked incredulously. “Why would shifters…”

“Not Habalines,” Oycher interrupted, shaking his head impatiently. “Our Dynasty’s hunters - the Lovci were definitely here.

“Saves me from killing him,” Poison said, standing behind him. “He defected the minute he handed over Anthony’s sister. Now he’ll be tortured before he dies. Something he deserved and I didn’t have time for.”

“Everything was going as planned.” Salk had counted on using that damned halfling. The Habaline standing next to him was not any improvement over a half-breed. And even though he had the correct blade to get the job done, he couldn’t kill what he still needed. Salk was many things, but not stupid.

“Now they’re going on without Adam.” Poison shrugged in a very human way, curling his lips at the store. Halloween costumes on one side, exotic dance garments lined the other side.

“He’s going to talk,” Salk said, pulling a handkerchief out and wiping his sweating brow.

Anthony had run the place, and, at this point, they could trust no other human, so it remained closed. And if Sixten put two and two together, he’d come back and snoop around. That couldn’t happen. “I only rounded up one escaped Donor – Amy Hanson.”

“I hear her frantic heartbeat,” Poison said, tilting his head toward the back.

Behind the storeroom was another world, one consisting of technology literally changing human lives as well as Salk’s. Research producing a viable and rewarding product no government or private entity could control with regulations or red-tape policies.

Decades of painstaking research were nothing to a subjugated Lovec; one groveling under a spoiled monarch’s boots learned practical patience. And since the Dynasty never released their rare hunters from duty, he had no other choice but to build a world in which he could disappear. After centuries of service, he had a hefty savings, which wasn't nearly enough. The funds he still needed to complete his venture were astounding.

“Yes,” he said, listening to the Donor cry. “Unlike the others, this is Amy’s first visit here. Rave had an unhealthy attachment to her, spoiling her with compassion.”

“I remember his mistakes with her. She’ll get no such understanding from me,” he laughed cruelly. “Imagine how excited she was to glimpse freedom, thinking her ordeal was over, only to be snatched back into our world by you.”

“She’d better get over it and quickly,” Salk said flatly. “Until I hunt the others, she’s all I have in this country.”

“Speaking of countries, when are you carting our delicious Blythe back to Italy.”

Salk turned slowly; finding it disturbing Poison was keeping up with her. “How do you know I haven’t?”

“For me to know.” Poison’s lips curved. “Making sure she gets out of the country safely and soon.”

“I do not need your assistance for that.”

“You would if you knew that pint I stole from her sweet body before handing her over is worth far more than its weight in gold,” Poison said with a smirk, “in today’s market.”

“I told you not to touch this one.” He bared his fangs. “Why break our agreement, showing me such disrespect? I provide the Donors you need, and we capitalize on
them
. There are limits here. Lines you should not cross.”

“So similar to lines you should have never crossed with Rave’s brother.” He taunted. “Sixten Kovac is a fuming monster foaming at the mouth.”

Salk sighed. “And?”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t figured it out yet,” he said in barely more than a whisper, his voice teasing in delight. “His intelligence is growing at an alarming rate since he killed Rave. It won’t be long before the madness sets upon him, and this realm will not contain such power.”

“Such a waste on something I’ll end up killing.”

“You think you can kill him?” Poison blinked, laughing low.

“If I don’t,” Salk hissed, not caring that he spilled too many vampire secrets to the Habaline. “Our law will claim him the minute he lays hands on Marchii Gianni, killing a royal is an unthinkable atrocity.”

Poison glared at Salk. “I could kill the Marchii the same way I killed Anthony. Afterwards, none of the Species could revive that greedy human bastard. His pieces scattered this earth and his soul went to hell, where it belonged. Gianni can follow him, forever in death.”

“You’ve suddenly found religion?” Salk asked, scanning their surroundings again.

The Habaline pursed his lips, considering a moment before he answered. “I’ll tell you when I see the scroll, and the king’s bastard decides to man up.”

“You place your dreams on ancient fairytales instead of reality,” Salk said. “If that indeed happens then feel free to go home and give my best to your true king.”

“Fairy tales?” he asked with a faraway look. “The humans believe foolishness is the sister to wickedness, though the foolish are readily ignored. In the immortal world, foolishness will get you killed.”

“You do it.”

Gianni curled lips born of the darkest sensual fantasies, but Blythe couldn’t say he formed a smile.

He circled Blythe once, twice, stopping directly behind her on the third go around. Soft breath fanned her hair, heady with eroticism, swirling it over her shoulder. Now, his walking, talking, dress-up doll wore a bronze, strapless, Dior gown. It fanned at her knees in a billowing mermaid train.

“All dressed and nowhere to go,” she snapped, holding her hands out in grand gesture. She quickly found out that if she didn’t dress herself, someone else would do it for her. So she got with that program rather quickly.

He chose to ignore her sarcasm, instead, he explained, “It is time for you to feed from me. For that, I want you undressed.”

“Only feed?” She doubted that. What she did know? He wanted a show, a striptease.

The back of a cool and silky claw caressed her shoulder before it trailed down her arm. “I love the way your skin pebbles under my touch. Your beautiful breasts do this, too, only by my staring at them. And your sex? A flick of this tongue,” he murmured, skimming the tip inside her ear, “perks your sweet clit right up. It begs for me always. So playing coy is a waste of our time better spent in bed.” He stepped back, circling her until they faced one another. “Certainly patience has no place in my world, and I am tired of pretending that it does.”

She could get a neck ache just staring up at him, his size frightening. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to push another memory in my head and go at it like you did earlier on the chaise? I mean,” she continued taunting him, crossing her arms under her heavy breasts, “talk about romantic. And then following up with jewelry?” She flashed the ring he pushed on her finger. “You’ve got me all sorted out, haven’t you?”

“I do not care for this new attitude.” He raised a powerful arm, holding out his palm. “Hand me your clothes or choose your punishment.”

“Either way, you win.” She jutted her chin, hands splayed wide on her hips. “But I refuse to feed from you while naked, so grease your sadistic gears and give it your best shot.”

“Love me.”

“Nope.”

“Your body always submits, Blythe.” He dropped his coat on the back of a slipper chair. “I only want more. Everything.” Next went the buttons on his crisp, white shirt, his smooth skin peeking through inch by inch. “I will give
you
anything that you want. Anything.” He could have stripped in vampiric speed, but he wanted to seduce her. “I know you love me, somehow, I know.”

Gianni stood bare from the waist up. Blythe’s eyes dropped, an image of her licking that ebony trail lost beneath his zipper flooded her mind. She brought her fingertips up, rubbing her temples. “I don’t want to marry or mate or whatever with you. You say you want what you want. So do I, and it’s not you.”

“I smell your arousal.”

What? “That’s impossible.”

“You say you don’t want me to touch you. You say you don’t want my mouth on you again. We will negotiate.”

Again, another win-win for him, but she asked anyway, “Negotiate?”