Captiva Captive (15 page)

When he stopped to negotiate his next turn, assorted chippies took it as an opportunity to run their hands all over him.  He ignored them all, earnestly pushing away those that went for his crotch while he discretely hunted.  Ah, there she was, Blythe’s sweetly distinct heartbeat was music to his keen ears.  He spun right and caught her watching him with a deep scowl on her extraordinary face, right when a chippie leaned into him.  “Let’s dance, or we can head somewhere more private.” She grabbed his ass and gave it a squeeze.

Dammit to hell.
  “Off you go.” He used his powers and coerced them to scatter while he made unwavering steps Blythe’s way.  And wouldn’t you know it? She made a dash through the back door.  Perfect, if he got to her before anyone else.  He sped up.  Not just to catch her, but also to avoid the sudden power shift he sensed in the club.  The big boys were out tonight – all mixes, but none shifters.

“Don’t,” a werewolf instantly stood in his way.

“Rock, the very spine of the North American Pack,” he mocked.  “You took time away from your nightly bump and grind to find me?  How flattering.  Move.”  Rock was blocking the door, standing between Sixten and Blythe and he wasn’t budging.  Dumb.  Dumb. Werewolf. 

“Hear me out.”

“Usually people say that when they want to change another’s mind.  Not happening, I said move.” He took a step forward and Rock planted his feet shoulder width apart and slapped a palm against the door handle.  “She’s under the packs protection.”

“Fuck you.” Revulsion seeped from his pores with the mention of Blythe and beasts, and he shouldn’t have to
repeatedly
explain himself to a dog. “She has absolutely nothing to do with you primitive beasts.”

“So you say, not what her bloodline says.”

“I have a nose, hotshot.  I can smell.   She’s not a mixed blood.” He sounded strange speaking around his fangs, but Rock and company understood every word. “You fools are losing a mating war, and I get that. Bating hard for the team is one thing, but claiming females that don’t belong anywhere near your pack is another thing altogether.” A blast of dry ice fogged the dance floor, drifting toward the back. “Move dog.”

Sixten was getting more anxious by the second, worried about Blythe walking through the alley.  He started to mist, and a stern warning came from behind.  “No misting inside the club, Six, or you’re out for three days regenerating…painfully.”  He felt the box against his back, cold and ready for a cruel reorganization using every organ inside his body as punishment.  Bane Ruyter, the North American Beta, stood behind him.

“You hold that particular weapon illegally, Beta.”

He thrust it in Six’s kidney.  “You gonna tell my mommy?”

    “I heard you were recently mated.  So you understand I’m getting what I came here for.” He canted his head, feeling more dangerous than ever. “And you are standing between me and
my
chosen mate,” he gritted out, “who is
not
a Were mixed-blood.”

“So you say,” Rock smiled evenly and Sixten wanted to knock his canines out.

“Last warning. Back off,” Sixten demanded.  He felt his body getting larger, shifting further, but he didn’t have a clue what was happening. But he knew he was going to kill them all in seconds.

Rock’s eyes widened, before he nearly smashed through the back door.  “I smell pureblood Habalines circling in back,” he yelled over his shoulder. “The alley!” 

    Bane stayed behind and held the miasma that ensured all clubbing humans didn’t notice anything until their group headed out.

Sixten ripped through the Weres the second Bane had dropped his brutal weapon.  The asphalt smelled hot as he ran the length of the alley.  “Blythe!” His voice was not his own, and she wouldn’t recognize his otherworldly intonation.  But he gave it a try anyway.  “Blythe, answer me!” 

He inclined his head, and picked up on her heartbeat and misted in that direction.  A low breeze pushed through his body and brought the tang of her fear on his tongue, sharp and acidic.  Of all the things that he wanted to taste on her, this wasn’t it.  He spoke through the wind, sending his soothing voice in all directions, “Calm down for me, moja láska.”   The scent of fear was a red flare in the middle of an ice storm, and with all the predators circling tonight, one was bound to catch her before he did.

“Moja láska!”
the stranger yelled an endearment only one had ever said to her. 

    “Six?”

    Her kidnapper spoke in a calm voice, “He’ll be here soon.  But if the others come first, we’ll have to drive to another location.”

    Blythe sat inside a luxury two-seater she couldn’t name.  She’d never seen anything like it.  After he seat belted her in, her hands were somehow fixed behind her back where she couldn’t move them.  Although she wasn’t physically uncomfortable, she was purely terrified.  They sat idling on a too-quiet and pitch-black backstreet by the river.  Early on, her stunning captor told her that they were waiting for another to come.  Now, outrageous as it was, he’d confirmed it was Sixten.  Somehow, she couldn’t scream for help and moving was an impossibility since no part of her body was willing to cooperate with her brain. 

    She whimpered again, “Who are you?”

    “Right now, I’m the only
person
who prevents you from becoming taffy amongst thousands of greedy, hungry hands.”  The stunning man flashed crazy eyes her way, leaning over the gearshift of a car seemingly itching to take off on its own accord.  “No one wants to be pulled in
that
many directions do they?”

    “Ambiguity gives me the willies.” Blythe couldn’t physically shudder, but she sensed her tremors deep inside.  Virtually bound from the neck down, she could feel things yet she didn’t quite own her body.  “What do you want?  And what’s Six doing?”

    “Right now, only one thought is dominating his mind, driving him to follow a primitive need he’s ignored for roughly eight years:  to take you.   He thinks he has to get you away from me, yet I’m the one helping him.  He’ll quickly find out that he has to get you away from many.  So your battle has merely begun, Blythe Giarrusso.  You are distinctive within this realm, and you’re about to find out the lengths people will go to in order to possess you - permanently.  A word of advice, though, Sixten is the only one you can trust – not even your precious Ryan.”

    “Advice coming from a stranger who has me strapped inside the getaway car should always be taken into consideration.”  She tried to laugh, but it came out as tearless, hysterical sob.

    A shadow broke through the pool of darkness before her captor opened the driver’s door.  The odd voice with its rolling burr thundered, “What the hell, Rave?”

    “Take my car.  I have guards on your island property. Hurry.” 

    Blythe managed a small jump when blood suddenly sprayed the windshield followed by scathing vulgarities.  However, she couldn’t move enough to get away. Lead replaced her flesh, forcing her body into a peculiar sense of submission. “Help me,” she whispered, knowing how ridiculous her weak efforts were.

    The shadow shifted inside the car, churning wildly until she saw Sixten.  “I’m here.”

    “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”  Blythe’s voice was thick and slow and she realized the man probably drugged her somehow.

    “We are helping you, little brother,” her captor said from outside.

    Sixten hissed like an animal after slamming the door.  “This means nothing, Rave!”  He spat through the glass, “You owe penance for your sins against me, brother.  I owe you nothing for this.”

    “Agreed, but accept more help than this.”

    “I don’t need you.”  He spun away, going in a blinding speed that pushed Blythe’s head against the headrest. 

    “Six,” she tried to talk to him, but she could hardly understand herself.  They were going faster and faster, an overwhelming speed which already carried them down McGregor Blvd.  The palm tree lined streets blurred in front of her eyes.  Green and gray strokes that kept her mind floating in a surreal state, a dreamlike quality one would expect to have upon the very steps of death’s door.  Or a mental detachment brought on by drugs or too much alcohol.  She hated it.  “Please, Six.”

    “You’re alright,” he said in a voice she finally recognized - his own.  “We’ll be home soon, and I’ll explain as much as I can.  I understand that you’ve been ill, so we’ll take everything slowly.”

    “This is far from slowly,” she took a steadying breath and continued, “and what do you mean by home?”

    “At this speed, I can make the Sanibel Causeway in another three minutes.  After that, ten more minutes will have us sipping champagne in the Jacuzzi in our home on Captiva.”

    “Don’t you think one of the tollbooth operators will call the police when I’m seen trussed up in this seatbelt and begging for help?”

    “No one will see you,” he answered calmly.

    “How can someone miss me sitting here?”

    “They’ll see what I want them to see,” he replied in a methodical tone that promised to drive her insane.

    She didn’t know what to say to that, so instead, she asked, “Was I drugged?”

    He inhaled deeply and shook his head no.  A sob left her lips when she spotted something incredibly alarming.  “Six, are th-those… f-fangs?”

    “Why yes, moja láska, they are.”

    “Ooooh.”  Bile climbed her throat.  “I sooo want out,
please
.”   

    “I know, Blythe.  I know.” Sixten looked away from her, and she saw knots of tension forming in his jaw. He shook his flaxen head, and platinum streaks flickered as they passed underneath streetlights at a dizzying speed.  “It’s too late for you to get away from…what I am.” She stared in shock at his profile.  Bone-colored points were hanging over his lower lip. “I tried, angel. I really did.”  One hand tightened on the steering wheel while the other wrapped itself around the gearshift to shift down, and he admitted, “The years bought you some time away from my…lifestyle, but that’s all over now.  After countless times listening to your refusals to take me back and always respecting them, I can’t concede this time.” He smiled but it wasn’t a smile. “I’ve realized – almost too late, I might add – that you’re safer with me than without me.”

    She seemed to disengage in some way, drifting off to a strange sleep she knew was entirely unnatural.

Chapter 12

R
ave entered the dark and dingy apartment, gathering clothes from Blythe’s wardrobe and hamper.  Even though Donors were a rarity, he had no idea why the Vampyr Lovec was adamant about finding her, in particular.  Still, after he’d gotten wind of the hunt, he’d given Sixten a hand in protecting Blythe from the hunter this very night. 

That decision blew up in his face.

And since his
brother
continued to refute him, he now had no qualms with using Blythe for his purpose - the greater good of his race.  The very one that walked this earth so long ago, coexisting with humans before vampires used them for cattle, giving all immortals a bad name.  Now, because of the selfish choices the vampires had made, Rave had no choice himself.  He had to use human cattle to keep his half-breeds fed, or they would wander off to hunt.  And an uncivilized Habaline - half Species Breed Vampire or werewolf coupled with half Habaline Shapeshifter - wasn’t what the streets of Southwest Florida currently needed.

Rave’s breed of Habalines merely needed time to adjust and settle within their alien side to maintain a sense of sanity when faced with the public.  He would be the first to admit that wasn’t easy at all.  Habalines were distinctly powerful beings of superiority, yet they were civilized in every way.  Nevertheless, when mixed with other species, and Rave hadn’t had a choice in that matter; they didn’t keep the semblance of innocence humans cherished.  If a pureblood Habaline wanted, it took. Even so, it paid homage to the costs of its desire, putting things to rights after it finished.  However, if a mixed-blood Habaline wanted, it took as well, but with a major difference - a brutal difference.  The consequences were of no consequence, and pain was something they enjoyed, whether theirs or someone else’s. 

That was the very reason he hadn’t allowed the mixed-blood adults to mate yet.

Like most immortals, Rave prized females – human or otherwise.  They were softly supple, deliciously scented, husky-voiced after reaching just one orgasm, and very cooperative once he moved his tongue inside them.  

But he loved the grouchy ones, too.  The cantankerous sexpots that enflamed his alien blood as the fire-headed Rebecca Walker did back in Scotland.   Why did she have to get pregnant by the Alpha? He didn’t feel right about returning and snatching her while she was with child, though he had such plans for her…for them.  Maybe he still did.  Or maybe, there was another to take her place.  One he hadn’t encountered yet. One he could spoil and bring to shameless pleasure repeatedly.  One that would be waiting for him when he came home to a
real
home, warming his sheets and opening her arms wide for him and him alone. “Hope springs eternal,” he laughed greedily while misting to an underground labyrinth well hidden under Captiva Island - a dwelling built by his advanced ancestors, one that stood the test of time.

“He needs to feed.” 

Seconds couldn’t pass without requests or serious matters to report.  He eyed his second in command, the very one that had killed Blythe’s brother earlier. After placing some of Blythe’s belongs in Poison’s hands, he ordered him, “Send him to the chamber.   I’ll bring the Donor myself.  One we haven’t used with him.”  After weeks in Rave’s care, the poor female Donors were still skittish.  He patiently understood, but he wouldn’t give them up for anything and told them so daily.

All Donors were addictive to regular Species Breed Vampires, especially the females.  Their intended purpose, the one they’d been born for, was to serve Dynasty Vampyrs exclusively.  A special human nature chose to feed the catalyst vampires. If they became unavailable, all vampires, as a whole, would die off.   One of the two reasons Rave was taking them.  The other reason was to keep his mixed-bloods from rioting and leaving the property.  If they were readily granted the transcendent, prohibited blood inside the compound, they wouldn’t hunt for anything inferior on the open Florida streets.