Captiva Craving - Vampire Werewolf Menage (Six Feet Under Series Book Two) (3 page)

“You’ve been away for years, Sixten.” Qudir shifted his flamethrower on his back. They effortlessly carried weighty packs, ready to shoot the flames of hell more than a hundred feet if necessary. “In Maestru’s defense, decades went by while we attempted to recover our Species females from that Habaline breeding facility.” Qudir nodded at two guards, and then they headed through a natural canopy of live oak trees. “Yet he could never pinpoint their location for a stealth attack due to Ciaran’s miasma. Only Beasts had a bead on where it was hidden and wouldn’t share their intel with us since it was too close to their own females.”

“Well, who can blame them?” Sixten retorted, surprised he was managing to follow a basic conversation when he was so strung out over Blythe. But that was a Habaline for you. Alien blood flowed through his veins, and it kicked in whenever and wherever he needed it. “Because of our kin, werewolves haven't many females left for the survival of their race. Species vampires used to drink their female younglings to death for their Were power. Talk about your greedy leeches. That naughtiness only stopped about two-hundred years ago. Kind of hard to forget that soon, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re overlooking that Maestru was a key factor in stopping their voracious hunting.”

“So he says,” Sixten muttered. “I wasn’t in Scotland during the eighteen-hundreds, and I never go by hearsay.” Another fifteen feet passed as they walked a true tunnel. Cables and pipes lined the ceiling similar to the vampire’s Sanctuary on Captiva Island. “Furthermore, to follow a leader who openly kidnaps an Alpha’s queen reeks of careless stupidity. Mistakes are things we learn from, but there’s no cure for stupid.”

Qudir grunted. “Make sure I’m ringside when you say that to Maestru’s ancient face.”

“Ah, Qudir, I like to fight while naked,” he said with a mirthless laugh. “You’d just feel tawdry.”

“As shameful as it sounds, Six, I’d still watch a fight like that any day of the week.”

He understood Qudir was attempting to break the tension, but nothing would work short of seeing Blythe again. Sixten adjusted his pack and stopped at a three-way intersection. He looked through all tunnels, seeing for miles as light emanating from his eyes scattered across wet cinder blocks oozing with mold.

At that moment, Sixten had three thoughts pressing to the forefront. First, considering he had two natural, albeit alien, flashlights in his face, he still hadn’t calmed down enough to negotiate with other factions. Second, allowing for the magic protecting this place, no one should have developed Marco Island into an underground faction facility when it smelled this nasty. Third, if another night fell, and he didn’t have Blythe safely in his arms; he would shift into the vilest killing machine that ever roamed the face of the earth, taking down any Habalines he encountered.

Hence, Sixten considered his subsequent behavior highly questionable. Unquenchable rage stoked immortal power. Habaline power had a way of unleashing itself when a vessel no longer contained it. In layman’s terms, Sixten’s power was currently morphing into another creature.

A dangerous one.

“Down here, children,” said Maestru.

Qudir raised a brow at Sixten, shaking his head. Maestru’s voice drifted through the right corridor, undoubtedly listening to every word. They moved forward. Walking in single file due to the bulky flamethrowers on their backs, they headed towards his voice.

“Tell me why this place smells like the wharf during red tide?”

“This
red tide, in particular, has nothing to do with dying fish. Nothing smells quite like hatred.” Qudir’s lips kicked up in the corners. “And we’re heading toward plenty of it.”

“Yeah,” Sixten said gloomily, “I despise this fucking place and practically every creature assembling here tonight.”

Dead silence met them as they turned the last corner. All primordial eyes landed on Sixten. “Sorry,” he said without any sincerity whatsoever. Quite the faux pas from a newly appointed ambassador, considering those present had immortal hearing. But right now, he could give two shits. If someone could take his pain away, then he would consider apologizing.

Maestru was on one end of a long table; elbows anchored, and chin perched atop two clenched fists. Clearly annoyed. Jacye Jordan, on the other hand, was the picture of relaxation, leaning back in his chair and staring dead-on at Maestru. It wasn’t a disrespectful stance or even an arrogant one, but more of a relaxed nature. As if nothing in the room could touch him, and he knew it.

Maybe he was right.

But Sixten wouldn’t wager on it.

The Alpha was first to break the tense silence. “Gentlemen, let’s get to it. My Beta’s familial female was taken this night.” He nodded at Bane Ruyter. His hair as black as Blythe’s, he sat covered in ancient ink while flashing cobalt eyes. Two werewolves with similar markings and coloring anchored the Beta. Sixten identified them as close kin, possibly siblings or cousins.

“Blythe is Sixten’s wife and Bane knows it,” Maestru interrupted, gesturing towards Sixten. “Have a seat, Six.” With a booted foot, Maestru kicked out a metal, folding chair. Qudir stood behind him, snagging Sixten’s flamethrower before he sank down.

“No one presented a contract to me,” Jayce said, readjusting his blue flares to concentrate on Sixten. “Beta, as her nearest blooded male relative, did you allow Blythe to be given unto a vampire?”

“
I
did.” Maestru cut in, dropping his palms on the table with a definite thud. “Where are we going with this, Alpha? We have human women
and
immortals dying out there.” Vampyr Vojaks protected humans against overpowering, supernatural forces as well as their own kind.

“Don’t make it sound like I’m trying to play some game, Coven Master.” Jayce kept an unwavering focus on Sixten. “I have countless werewolves flipping the smallest pebbles looking for clues, hunting in the way of the Were Beast. They
will
bring down anything touching females, whether or not those females are yours, human, or mine.”

Sixten ground his molars, looking between the two faction leaders. He felt like a father on a long, road trip with errant children bouncing in the backseat. “If I had known my wife had any Were blood flowing through her veins, I would have deferred to her closest, blooded male’s decision.” A total lie and every Beast in the room could smell it, especially the Alpha. “However, I am led to believe that she was not under your Pack’s protection when I took her virginity several years ago.”

During years gone by, mortal fathers bartered their daughters as chattel, using them to negotiate for land, money, power, or all the above. Thankfully, in most parts of the world, those human ideals are long past. However, ancient laws governing supernatural species remain untouched. Males oversee immortal females until they mate. Males protect, cherish, and spoil their daughters and any female wards.

Unlike their human counterparts of long ago, their negotiations for any mating have nothing to do with material things, but more in the lines of ensuring the males match the females by celestial appointment. A male asking formal permission did so out of respect for ancient ceremonies In vampiric bylaw, any vampire taking an innocent’s blood could claim her as his wife. That convenient law was now Sixten’s favorite, since he claimed his Blythe in that way.

“I want Blythe Ruyter placed in my home right after she is located,” Bane said formally, narrowing flaring eyes on Sixten.

“Blythe
Kovac
will go home with her husband.” Sixten’s hands gripped the table. “Where she belongs, Beta,” he hissed, losing anything civil by the minute. And for him, that was easy. “What happened to getting down to it? I believe those were your words, Alpha.”

“We’re still waiting on a Habaline representative,” Jayce replied. “You’re a joint ambassador, right? You tell me why they’re not here representing their race.”

The hell if Sixten knew, not that he’d chatted with anyone, so he turned to Maestru. “Well?”

“I’m assuming they’re a no-show,” Maestru answered bluntly. “But the record will state that we made an effort.”

“They’re not coming?” Sixten laughed manically while looking across the table. “I flew in a chopper because I couldn’t mist with the amount of weapons I needed to fight…God, have you taken a look at what’s out there?” Answering grunts filled the room. “And here we sit,” he continued, “representing some of the most powerful of our collective races, and we’re going over formalities. For what reason? To inscribe something in a book that says we tried but the Habalines decided to play hooky today?”

Maestru’s gaze went back to the Alpha. “Ask him. He’s still sitting with something on his mind.”

“Wait a minute. You cannot seriously have more to say about my wife.” Sixten made to stand, but Qudir placed a heavy palm on his shoulder.

“No,” Jayce answered. “We’re here because of the mixed-blood Habalines my Pack has already captured. They need long-term containment. My Miami and Sanibel Island facilities are overflowing. And since you are one of their
brethren
, I’m sure you understand that their power should be spread out a teensy bit.”

“I knew it,” Six muttered, shrugging off Qudir’s hand and standing. With his feet shoulder-width apart, he threw his shoulders back and pointed an angry finger at Jayce Jordan. “You’ve got a storm brewing underground because you haven’t the balls to kill them.” He started pacing, narrowing his glittering irises on Jayce. “And you think we should give up the Vampyr Vojak Sanctuary on Captiva to hold these mixed-bloods.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Maestru spoke up, sounding weary.

“What’s the difference?” Jayce kept his eyes on Sixten, staring thoughtfully. “They blew your location wide open. At this point, most immortals know of your hidey-hole. And after sunrise, the rest of them will.”

Sixten’s eyes contracted shrewdly. “Give me a break, Alpha. The Pack has known the whereabouts of our Sanctuary for centuries. As I always say, we have spies spying on the spies. It’s the circle of immortal life. I don’t trust you. You don’t trust me. Distrust passes down from generation to generation.” A normal occurrence everyone accepted. “I’m not complaining, mind you, but I’m a little brassed off right now. See, might I remind you my mate is gone? If she is alive,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “Blythe is in the hands of…” A long pause. “Can any of you here name your mate’s choice of death? Because, I tell you right now, mine would be better off dead than passed around and used by
them
.” What hell was she going through?

“She will be found,” Bane spoke evenly.

“Not quickly enough, and not if I don’t get out of here.”

“Chopper’s back,” Maestru said, cocking his head toward the cavern ceiling. “No human heartbeat is on board.”

“I
said
we were getting Blythe back, and I meant it,” Bane growled, tossing ancient maps on the battered table. Rolls of brown parchment resembling lizard skin bounced off the wood, stirring up dust. “We recovered these from Scotland. I’ve been going over them all night. These maps lead to the Habaline’s underground colonies, possibly more breeding facilities.”

“Ciaran wouldn’t have dismantled that facility if it weren’t for our Coven,” Maestru said, shaking his dark head. “Withholding that sort of intel is unforgiveable, Alpha.”

“Oh don’t get started on the unforgiveable, leech,” Jayce shot back, giving him a look that said, ‘I’m settling the score soon’.

“
Excuse me
, if we hurry, I have just enough time to go topside and finish my killing spree.” Sixten delivered a scathing look while pointing at the maps. “This would be the important stuff!”

Bane rolled them out in Were speed, anchoring their curling edges with stones. He pointed to the far right. “See these markings here?”

“The first language of the Habaline,” Sixten breathed in awe. No other faction ever held true tomes or maps belonging to the alien race. They stroked his inborn senses, and he didn’t doubt their authenticity one bit. “How careless of them to bring these into the human realm,” he continued guardedly. “Let me see that one.” He pointed at a smaller map, scanning it seconds after Bane handed it over. “For fuck’s sake, you’ve secured the location to their very kingdom within our realm. And you’ve
sat
on it.”
“Kingdom?” Jayce repeated dumbfounded.

“The pure bloods have Royals. Similar to your Pack,” Sixten explained while memorizing the next map. “You have your queen, your Beta, so on and so on. They have their monarchy, too. In this realm, I’m sure it’s set up quite differently, but still, it’s a lifestyle they wouldn’t give up in order to adapt to human societal demands. Somewhere along the way, they have an entire world within this one. Not only does it escape human eyes. It escapes ours.” He looked up, blinking slowly. “I had no idea they held this much inner-realm space. Prime real estate and it’s staggering. This is truly frightening, considering they can breed with any creature, even humans to fill it all up…and then they…” Six grabbed the last map, reading the ancient inscriptions.

“If they wanted humans dead, they would have been centuries ago,” Jayce said, running his index finger over a depiction of Captiva Island.

“It’s the forest and the trees,” Sixten said, still scanning.

“I can’t see the forest for the trees?” Jayce repeated the age-old, human adage.

“Precisely,” Sixten agreed, backing away from the table. It would take him years to cover those locations, assuming they hid Blythe in any of them. “Even though other immortals crave it, oppression doesn’t suit
most
Habalines. Excluding these select nut jobs running around,” he said with his mind immediately going to his dearly departed brother and his staff of alien thugs, “the majority is patient, but calculating, building their race over centuries. Standing on the resources provided by others, they use them thoroughly.” And were smarter than anyone in the room, but he would not waste time hurling insults. “They spread their seed like an infection, spawning their race while slowly eradicating our respective ones.” Sixten was a perfect example of that.

“Choking us out,” Maestru added, looking briefly at the inscriptions.