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Chapter Twenty Eight

The duffle bag fell on the floor with a loud thud. The trip back from Brazil was even worse than the flight there. Rafe’s mood hadn’t improved since the vampire stole his spotlight and saved the day. Come to think about it, Rafe actually didn’t know why it had bothered him so much. Phillip’s orders were to follow Yara, incognito, and report back. He wasn’t supposed to be found out and Dyam’s interference had actually saved him a whole lot of headache. Bad things would have happened if Rafe had jumped in and fought the witches to protect Yara. How would he explain that to Phillip? Or worse, to Yara? It would be like, “Hi, I’m Rafe, the white wolf who’s been stalking you since London.” Yeah, that would’ve gone so swell.

Rafe took a deep breath and crossed his empty gym toward his office. Once there, he pulled out the black box from its hiding place and opened it. Six white bullets sparkled against the lights. A strange liquid seemed to dance inside, up and down the small casings, as if the bullets were alive. He leaned up against the desk and contemplated the mess he had gotten himself into. First, Wyvern, one of the dragon senators, hired him to put a tail on Zoricah. Then, Balaur, another dragon senator and the S.O.B. who started the last war between dragons and vampires, offered to pay all his debts in exchange for the vampire king’s head. Rafe didn’t like those kinds of agreements, but he couldn’t give a shit for royalty, so from his point of view, it sounded like a good deal. And if he had pulled it off, he would’ve saved his pack from the imminent bankruptcy that was about to knock on their door. That is,
if
he had pulled it off. But he didn’t. His downfall started when he saw Yara in London. Splendid, warrior, Amazon. Then, the Soartas locked in his fate when they put the black box in his grasp. He had no idea what those weird bullets did or why the vamps and Zoricah had worked so hard to take down its factory in England, but he’d bet his furry ass that they weren’t common military stuff. So, following his gut feeling, he left the vampire king alive and snatched the box of bullets. Fast forward a few weeks, Phillip showed up out of the blue, and told him to follow Yara to Brazil. Why? What in Hiad was happening? He still didn’t have a clue, but one thing was certain
–
this whole thing stank, and it reeked of deceit and bad news.

One question remained, however – what was he going to do with them? Should he destroy them? Or maybe anonymously deliver them to Tardieh?

“Cool stuff you got there, Rafe.”

Rafe jumped startled by the voice coming from the open door. “Fuck me, Archie! What the fuck are you doing here so late?”

“I forgot my training gear,” his cousin replied. Right, Rafe had forgotten Archie liked training outdoors every morning. “What are these?” his partner said pointing at the box in Rafe’s hands.

“Nothing,” he replied and closed the box. He meant to put it back in the drawer but Archie stopped him.

“Yo, Rafe, I’m your buddy,” he said with hurt in his voice. “You can trust me, you know that. I mean, what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“First you disappear for almost a week, then you come back all hush-hush, we get a surprise visit from the blond draco, then you disappear again for two three days, and you want me to believe ‘nothing’s going on?’ In your dreams, cousin. I’m from the same wolf pack you came from, and we share the same nose for bullshit.”

And nosiness.
Rafe let out a long, resigned breath. Archie was right, if there was anyone who could trust, he was him.

“Alright, here’s the thing. These bullets are special. I don’t know why but the vamps
and
the dracos would do anything to get their hands on them.”

Archie picked one of the bullets up and lifted it in front of his face. “Wow, I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Nor will you ever. They are the last of their kind. The vamps went out of their way to destroy the factory in London.”

Archie’s thick blond eyebrows jumped up. “The last of their kind?”

Rafe nodded. He knew exactly where his cousin’s mind was getting to. The sound of an invisible cash machine echoed in his ears.

“I bet that someone will be willing to pay big bucks for them.”

Rafe scratched his stubble. “Yeah, but
should
we sell them? I mean, I don’t really know the damage they do but it can’t be light weight.”

“Even better!” Archie’s eyes sparkled just like the bullet in his hand. “I know a guy who usually deals in the black market. I can check out how much we can get or them, you know, just test the waters, and then we can make a decision.”

Rafe pursed his lips together. Something was telling him this was a bad idea.

“Look, cuz,” Archie carried on, probably sensing his hesitation to give him the go ahead. “If these bullets are as rare as you say they are, and if the vamps
and
the dragons are after them, I say, let them pay for them. Fuck their stupid never-ending pissing contest! If they killed each other over these, it’s even better for us and the pack, right?”

Right?

Rafe nodded slowly. “Fine, test the waters.”

“Yes!”

“But, keep it quiet,” he commanded. “I don’t want to wake up one night with vamps
and
dragons knocking on my door.”

“Roger that.”

Chapter Twenty Nine

Yara finished bottling the remaining of Z’s brew, or “shake” as they started calling it, into smaller containers and placed them in the fridge.

After witnessing the biggest proof of love from a man to his wife Yara had ever seen, she left the royal quarters and went back to the kitchen to finish the brew. With Naiah as her helper, she had managed to make enough to last at least three days, four if the shake was as strong as Yara hoped.

After they cleaned up the mess and put the leftover ingredients away, Yara asked Sam to rummage through her stuff and find Naiah some new clothes. The cotton dress she was wearing was ridiculously transparent, and even though her sister had small breasts like her, a bra-less chick was a bra-less chick, no matter the size. And this house was full of horny vamps dying to use their hands as measuring cups. So, off to finding her new clothes they went, leaving Yara with the task of finishing putting everything away.

She closed the fridge’s door and glanced at the kitchen staff, who had already started supper for the non-vampires in the house. They probably had no idea what she had cooked up but going by the way they had kept their distance Yara was certain they wouldn’t go near that fridge. Funny how even vampires could be superstitious.

She gave them one last “wicked witch” look – just for fun – then left the kitchen to find Naiah.

Yara took a deep breath. Ai, Mighty Soartas, what was she going to do with Naiah?
Yara had no idea how she’d convince her sister to return to Brazil, but she would. She had enough in her mind trying to sort her life out, imagine trying to sort someone else’s too! This world was much too ugly for a girl fresh out of water like Naiah. Poor girl, she was probably feeling lost and lonely in a house full of burly men and vampire warriors. She’d better go and … Loud laughter caught Yara’s attention. She strolled across the main hallway and found where the voices were coming from – the pool room?
–
and stopped in her tracks as soon as she opened the doors.

Naiah was behind the bar, apparently making blood cocktails with lime. Dyam and Joel were warming her up from each side, ogling over her like two teenage boys. Sam and Hikuro were on the other side of the counter enjoying the scene. And Naiah was still wearing her cotton meet-my-girls dress.

How fan-freaking-tastic.

“So, the trick is to cut out the white bit of the lime, you know this little vein where the seeds are? What is it called again?” Naiah asked Joel.

“The pith,” Joel replied, his gaze hot on her chest.

“The pith?” she asked back, but with her thick Brazilian accent it sounded more like
de
piff
.

Dyam chuckled
–
Dyam chuckled?
–
and repeated the words, but slower. “No, pi
th
, your tongue goes between your teeth, like
th
is.”

Naiah pulled her tongue out and tried to mirror his actions. Both vampires zoomed in on her thick lips.

“So! I was losing my hair for nothing, then,” Yara said out loud from the door.

All five culprits blinked at her, startled.

“Oh, Yara,” Joel said cheerfully, “you should drink this. Your sister makes a kickass caipi … what is this called again?”

“Caipirinha for vamps,” Naiah replied cheekily.

“She found the perfect ratio of fresh blood to rum,” Dyam added, taking a long sip from his glass.

Yara glared at him.
Et tu
,
Brutus
?

He cleared his throat and looked down. Suddenly, the lime slices in his drink looked very intriguing.

Yara shook her head.
Boys will always be boys.
Well, at least they had welcomed her sister with open arms – a bit too open for her liking, but open nonetheless.

However, that didn’t mean Yara was going let them off the hook that easy. No, way. She folded her arms over her chest and lifted her manicured eyebrow at Dyam. “So, you’re saying you prefer her blood-caipirinha to
mine
?”

“Ooooh, you’re fried, Dyam,” Joel teased.

“What about you, Joel?”

Joel froze in place, with the glass of Naiah’s drink mid-way to his lips.

“Have you already forgotten
my
special blood-drinks too?”

The blond vamp blinked a couple of times and started something that sounded like a denial, but was swallowed by the laughter across the room.

“Who’s fried now, huh, Joel?” Hikuro asked then hugged Sam tighter, as if using her as a shield.

Joel hid behind the counter, pretending he had suddenly received a call.

Dyam lifted his drink on a toast. “To the wind of change. It strikes hard, but it’s the ultimate driver of evolution.”

“Shut up, Dyam,” Yara said lightly, then turned to Naiah. “So where’s my drink?”

Dyam smiled and looked at her through his thick Native American lashes. Damn the Soartas, he was very charming when he relaxed a bit. If only he could do it more often.

“I think an empirical test is in order,” Joel announced.

“Yes, a battle of the caipirinhas!” Naiah shouted in a perfect display of Latin excitement.

“You mean the landslide of
the
blood-caipirinha. Mine!” Yara replied, letting her Latin-ness roam free as well.

Sam and Hikuro broke out in laughter as Dyam and Joel wisely left the bar area, clearing up the battlefield.

“Alright, big sis,” Naiah said, drawing the invisible long sleeves up. “Get ready for a new dawn to hit you in the face.”

“Gimme your best shot, pest.”

Suddenly Dyam and Joel froze in place, staring at the door – drinks left on the counter, the battle forgotten. Hikuro also stiffened.

Yara turned her head to find the reason for the sudden change of mood. Tardieh stood silently by the door. His tall, broad frame cast a long shadow along the way.

Yara dropped the small knife and walked toward the king. His hair was all tousled up and his clothes unraveled, but his aura exuded a very different vibe from before.

“How is she?” Yara asked.

“Much better,” he said with a long sigh of relief. “She’s finally sleeping now.”

Hmm, why did he put emphasis on the
finally
?

A collective sigh reverberated in the room. Yara knew her brew would help but to hear it confirmed from the king’s mouth felt fantastic.

“So, is it true, my lord? Is it confirmed?” Dyam asked, meaning,
is the queen really pregnant?
He always found a way of shooting straight without being rude. Dyam, the perfect gentleman.

Tardieh stared at his three best friends and personal guards.

The room went dead silent.

“I’m going to be a father!” Tardieh finally exclaimed, with a mix of genuine surprise and male pride, and an ear-to-ear smile stamped on his face.

They all cheered and covered Tardieh with heartfelt bear hugs and kisses, forgetting for a moment that he was the king. On that day, there was no hierarchy, no social barriers, no race differences; they were all part of the same family. Yara couldn’t help but feel as silly as Tardieh looked.

“I’ll get the cigars!” Joel announced and rushed out of the door.

“I’ll make more blood-caipirinhas!” Naiah shouted. “Come, Sam, I’ll teach you!”

“Blood-whiskey for me please,” Tardieh requested but only Dyam and Yara managed to hear him over Naiah’s loud instructions on how to perfectly slice the lime clear of
piff
.

“I’ll get it for you, my lord,” Dyam assured him with a chuckle, then joined Naiah behind the bar.

Yara watched that picture and almost wished she could find a way of keeping Naiah in this realm
–
she looked so happy!
–
but cruel reality would strike soon and the truth was, Yara didn’t know she’d be able to protect Naiah when it did. She was so naive, so green, so pure, and they were in the middle of a massive mission, that was getting uglier and hairier by the day. How could Yara be Naiah’s guide in this realm if all she could see was ugliness and sorrow?

“Yara,” Tardieh called her softly, waking her up from her reverie.

“Yes?”

“I want to thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Yara shook her head. “It’s nothing…”

“No, it’s everything,” Tardieh interjected. “Z told me how hard it must have been for you to go back to Brazil after all those years away. I wanted you to know that it means a lot to Z,” he added. “And to me.”

Yara didn’t know how to respond to such sincere words coming from the mighty vampire king.

“And I wanted to … err, explain my behavior earlier in the kitchen. I was … err … less than kind with you and your sister …”

Ai, Soartas, the king was apologizing to her! She blushed profusely.

“Look, Tardieh, it’s alright. I understand, really. In fact, I also flipped when I saw Z so weak. If I were in your shoes I’d have done worse, to be really honest.”

His lips curled into a crooked smile. “Thank you for letting me off the hook that easy.”

Yara smiled in return. “I’m just glad I got back in time and that my potion worked.”

“About that … Are there any side effects?”

Yara frowned. “A few, why? Is she throwing up?”

“No,” Tardieh denied quickly. “She’s feeling well,” he added tentatively, “maybe too well. If you know what I mean.”

Yara’s jaw dropped to the ground as the coin dropped. “Ai, right!
That
kind of side effect …” She felt her cheeks burn again, but this time she was glad to see she wasn’t alone. Tardieh was also blushing profusely. “Well, the juice from titan beetles that live around the Emerald Lake is known for its … err … strong aphrodisiac properties.”

“Very strong aphrodisiac properties,” Tardieh whispered wide eyes, and ran his hand through his tangled-up mane.

Yara swallowed, not knowing what to say to that little piece of information.
Way to go, champ?

“Will she have to take this potion throughout the entire pregnancy? Not that I’m complaining, no, I’m really glad that she’s feeling good enough to, you know,
want
it, but I just need to be, you know, prepared.”

Ai, Apa Dobrý! The king wasn’t sharing their bed differences with her, was he? No way! How could she advise a 300-year-old vampire on how to take care of his lady’s needs? If he didn’t know it by now, no hints in the world would save him.

Yara felt something vibrate on her hip. “My phone, it’s my phone!” she cried out, a bit too loud, then picked up the cell and checked the caller ID. “Excuse me, Tardieh, but I must take this. It’s a contact of mine probably with news.”

She gave him one last nod and darted out the door, glad to have been saved by the bell.

**********

The vampire squeezed deeper into the shadows as Yara rushed out of the pool room. If it wasn’t for his acute hearing, she would’ve caught him red-handed listening in on their little celebration.

He hated having to do this, to spy on his own king, but he had no choice. He waited for the Brazilian witch to disappear down the corridor, to do the same. He bolted silently down the hallway and locked himself in one of the maintenance cabinets. Safely hidden away from prying eyes and ears, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the emergency number.

His call was answered after on ring.

“I’ve got very news for you.”