Captiva Master - Vampire Warewolf Menage Six Feet Under Series Book 4) (2 page)

“You are fine, for the most part,” he agreed, before pulling into a drive thru and ordering her breakfast. “But, Dakota, your dad’s not.” When she opened her mouth to inquire, he stopped her cold with his words, “Honey, your life has changed more than
humanly
possible.”

Chapter 2
Fort Myers, Florida

Maestru clutched his cloak to his throat, gliding across the marsh, joining the other eight Coven Masters. Reaching the dock, he lifted his head and waited for the sliver of miasma to open in the horizon. One, two, and up he went, exhausted, ascending each marble step in the human way. He wondered again: Why had the Dynasty Empire called an emergency meeting?

“I wonder the very same thing, Maestru,” Tesolos said from behind him, finally breaking his morning silence.

As if Maestru would fall for that one. “Centuries have passed since we graduated from the Academy together, I’m surprised that joke never gets old. For you.” No one could read Maestru’s mind, not even royalty. Ah, but the Empire could snoop endlessly, ferreting out his secrets until he surely would be beheaded. Prince Volos had overlooked his concealment of Blythe, considering how the prince’s very own cousin offended the Beta of the North America Werewolf Pack by taking Blythe in the first place. Still, Maestru currently secreted Amy and Dakota from the Lovci, both were Donors the Dynasty Empire needed desperately. A slew of transgressions could easily be pardoned, but when it came to Donors, Prince Volos remained unforgiving.

“Lighten up, Coven Master,” Tesolos teased. “It’s not like this meeting involves you specifically…or does it.”

If they were anywhere else, he’d put Teslos in his place as he always had. Instead, he glided underneath a vampire made tunnel packed with dirt and roots, until he entered the foothold of the bastion. After another long flight of shingle steps, he reached the surface. Although the sun was burning brightly, a gigantic shadow fell over him. Lifting his eyes, he stared head on at Prince Volos’ castle, a structure supposedly standing since the beginning of time. Always awestruck upon seeing it, Maestru took a moment to catch his breath, relishing the simple sensation of exhilaration so often missing in the life of an ancient immortal, such as he.

Tesolos nudged him. “Over there.”

A crowd had formed in front of a pair of doors, crimson in color, which lead to the royal tomb. Crowds would never be of notice there, if those vampires were remembering an anniversary of death or burying a new fallen. However, Maestru knew neither of those situations had occurred, which was beyond curious. Up ahead, a royal guard, a Gryph, lowered from the sky, his ebony wings curling inward as he landed before Maestru and the accompanying eight Coven Masters.

“This way,” the Gryph ordered.

They cut a quiet path through the crowd; most of the on looking vampires were ashen faced, some shaking their heads in disgust. Maestru pulled his cowl away from his face, turning his head in every direction as they walked into the crypt. Trying to assimilate everything at once, guessing what was amiss here. He could see nothing, could smell far less.

“Greetings, Coven Masters.” Prince Volos appeared suddenly on white stone steps, gliding toward them. He was also wearing a black cowl, though his inner lining was of bronze and scarlet – the colors of the monarchy. Where Maestru was dark, Volos was light. Blonde hair, pale skin, and bronzed eyes so similar to butterscotch accentuated the prince’s clearly aristocratic features. And even though he stood a few inches shorter than Maestru’s six and a half feet, Volos could kill Maestru and any other vampire on this earth by sheer will. Therefore, you only pissed him off once. 
 All Coven Masters inclined their heads in deference to their prince, offering their greetings in turn, as the surrounding vampires dropped to their knees. Volos waved an impatient hand at a second pair of doors to the side. “Only our Masters are welcomed inside the sacred hall.” He led them through the grey doors into a vast marble hall veined in scarlet and bronze. “Here,” Volos said, and Maestru didn’t think the prince had ever looked angrier. A few more steps and all came to a standstill, their mouths collectively gaping at the sight. It was difficult to render such an affect on ancient Coven Masters, but this demonic atrocity had. “Two of our Gryphs found this…horror in the early hours.”

“What on earth were they trying to do?” Maestru asked, looking at the opened
empty
coffins of four Dynasty Vampyrs. Quickly reading the inscriptions above each desecrated grave, Maestru stopped cold at the last. “Your brother, Tesolos.”

However, Tesolos was ahead of Maestru, his knees going to the floor, his hands clutching his throat. “Why? Why would anyone take my brother’s body?”

“Any thoughts?” Prince Volos threw up his hands, cold fury leaving his body.

Vampires were immortal. Nevertheless, as power struggles prevailed, they usually died by immortal hands. Any of those ranking a Master status or higher in the vampire hierarchy were buried inside the royal tomb, and that went for their deceased family members, as well. However, Maestru had chosen long ago not to bury any of his deceased kin here, not in this heartless place. His family stayed buried where they had died together, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

With a glance at Teslos, he felt a tremor of pity. No doubt, they shared the same thought: What was happening with the body of his brother, Bordis. Even in death, though, Bordis deserved his desecration and more, which stirred up unbearable memories. Maestru clenched his fists, forcing his mind away from the past. Dwelling in what he could not change would make him weak, and he refused weakness at every opportunity.

“Very well,” Volos said, acknowledging Tesolos’ pain with nothing more than a piercing look. During his short life, Bordis had more enemies than Maestru had, so Maestru hadn’t a doubt Volos was also only disturbed over three out of the four missing bodies. “We have nothing to go on, not a witness, not even a scent. So once more, the impossible must be made possible. Get your Vojaks on this at once and find out something, anything. Maintain communication with my Gryphs on this, at all times.” The prince stopped a brief moment as Tesolos managed to get to his feet. “I can only hope this isn’t what it looks like.”

Even Maestru shuddered, and it took a lot to make him squirm. “Let’s hope it’s not.” Problem was - Maestru could not fathom how he would get his Vojaks in the act of hunting immortal grave robbers. They were so understaffed, they didn’t have time to lace their own boots, much less unravel the goings-on with this new batch of sickos.

Prince Volos dismissed the group, all Coven Masters following the same route they’d traveled moments before in grave silence, collectively speculating. Turning his head, Maestru caught the faintest scent, an oddly familiar scent, from an adjacent corridor leading to the gardens. He casually pulled his cowl in place, covering his eyes, and broke away from the other Masters. As he drew closer to a gilded fountain, he smelled her no more than five yards away. Unfortunately, his explorations were cut short when he heard the commanding Gryph’s warning directed at the female.

The Gryph said, “You are not permitted out here when we have visitors.”

“I…please, the roses are blooming.”

“The Masters are leaving the grounds as we speak. Go and have brunch, then avail yourself of the gardens all you want.”

“Of course,” she replied with a muffled sob.

Maestru kept his hood over his eyes and waited until the Gryph’s heavy footfalls disappeared, then peered in her direction. In that moment, Maestru forgot himself, forget where he was, and was interrupted by Prince Volos himself.

“Lovely, isn’t she?”

Her beauty wasn’t the reason Maestru found her fascinating. “The female?” he shrugged, turning to face
his
Master. “They all are.”

“On that, we agree.” Volos nodded, watching the female leave with blatant, vampire possession in his eyes. Maestru knew that look. Undoubtedly, he’d used it on Dakota many, many times, although she hadn’t witnessed it. “However, that one in particular,” Volos continued, pointing his chin in her direction, “is mine.”

“Of course, she’s yours,” he replied casually. “After all, this is your home.”

“About that, I’m glad we have a moment of privacy.” Volos stepped onto a walkway and Maestru joined him, trying to understand what was going on here, what he just saw, and it had nothing to do with the desecrated crypt.

Maestru somehow kept his composure. “What would you care to discuss, Sire?”

“Maestru, not that I’m poking around, mind you, but I’ve heard you’re keeping a Blood Pet inside your home, a
human
Blood Pet.”

“That was the plan,” he lied, wondering who ratted him out. “She was injured beyond human repair, and I found her mildly intriguing.” Icicles went through his heart. The prince was too interested. “She remains unconscious, weak, and I have not fed from her.”

“I truly couldn't care less. With your harried schedule, a Blood Pet is a convenience you and the other Masters certainly deserve. Though I wish you had had the foresight to purchase her a separate home in which to reside, then we wouldn’t be having this unpleasant discussion. Tongues are wagging amongst our faction, amongst other factions. So if their
inquisitiveness
continues, and we both know it will, you must present your human at court so I can deem her your human concubine.” Volos stopped near an overgrown rose garden. “That is, if you want to keep her.”

A threat wrapped in niceties, Maestru knew this. “That would be an honor, Prince Volos.” An honor his ass. In the vampire world, a human concubine was considered nothing more than a whore. Maestru would take his life before he presented Dakota as such to his monarchy. Volos could go to hell, where he belonged, if he continued to press the subject. Maestru gritted his teeth while staring at thousands upon thousands of roses, nearly gagging on the scent so sickly sweet to his sensitive nose. Reminding him of the olden days, when humans used flowers to cover the stench of death, he wondered why they were here in abundance. The last place his Dakota needed to be was anywhere near Volos’ palace. “I doubt I’ll keep her after she awakens. If she awakens, that is.”

“Ah, yes,” Volos chuckled. “Unlike me, you are bored easily.”

Hardly, but Maestru fought hard to keep his secrets right where they were, chiefly Dakota. Since that cat was clearly out of the bag, he would kill
anyone
who tried to take her away from him.

After Volos dismissed him, Maestru had emerged from the miasma no more than five minutes before Oycher found him. He did a double take when he caught sight of Maestu’s cloak. “Oycher.”

“Greetings, My Master.”

“Let me guess,” Maestru said wryly, turning his phone back on, “you couldn’t reach me by phone.” One moment of peace would have been nice. Not that anyone would care if Maestru hadn’t slept for the past forty-eight hours.

“My apologies, I was unaware you were visiting Prince Volos.”

Maestru waved off the apology. “It was more of a command performance, which we’ll discuss tomorrow.” Currently, Oycher was ruling as acting commanding Vojak, a temporary role simply because Oycher refused the permanent position. “What’s going on?”

“Dru says Sixten needs another month before he can handle the streets. Kash will fill in when necessary, that is, whenever Rock isn’t with Blythe.”

Neither of the males wanted to leave their pregnant female under Sixten’s protection until he was completely healed, which was understandable, but that meant Oycher was going to be pulling extra shifts. Maestru answered an unasked question. “I’ll help you with shifts, though you need to visit the Academy and collect a couple of their top students.” Loosening his hair from its tie, he prompted Oycher, “What else?” There was always more.

“Amy.”

“Is she needing attention again?” As far as Amy and her unborn were concerned, all involved demonstrated a great deal of patience, especially Adam. Why wouldn’t he? Same as Adam, Amy had been a victim of heinous Habaline acts. Unfortunately, she couldn’t escape any reminders since she was carrying a Habaline child. Still, she demanded Oycher’s attention on a daily basis and caring for her wasn’t remotely part of his job description. Studying his acting commander hard, Maestru figured Oycher looked far worse for the wear than even he did. “I’ll take this round with Amy.” Next, he needed to find a suitable protector for Dakota. After his discussion with Volos, he soon realized leaving her at the house with Luisa was no longer adequate.

“You have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

“I think I do,” Maestru said dryly, removing his cloak and handing it to Oycher. “You can take this to the Sanctuary. I want to rectify this Amy nonsense before I go home.” Go home to his unconscious Dakota, where he would sleep aside her, erasing his permanent scars with her lulling, natural fragrance. In a life of perpetual night, Dakota remained his eternal sunset.

Maestru hurriedly misted across the Caloosahatchee River, quickly reaching Estero Island. He reformed behind a refurbished ma and pa motel built in the mid-seventies, nestled between two monstrous high-rises on Fort Myers Beach. Conveniently, there would never be a vacancy here, since his Coven owned this particular property and used it as a warded safe house. He stopped as Adam ghosted to his left side.

“Maestru,” he greeted him solemnly.

“Adam.” Together, they walked inside, taking the left corridor leading to Amy’s room. “You look like shit. Ready to give up the ghost?”

When they reached her door, Adam crossed his arms, leaning his powerful body against the wall. In an effort to blend into human society, he’d shorn his long, dark hair into a military style cut, which was a waste of effort. Adam still looked like a walking menace, especially where humans were concerned. He was a Species Vampire Habaline mix, the same as Sixten, and his eyes glittered when he was agitated. Right now, he sported blacked-out shades that weren’t doing a thing to hide his emotions.