Chosen by Blood (15 page)

“You’re not going in there half-cocked and without backup.” Knox looked like he wanted to spit nails, he was so angry, but she was sure he wasn’t feeling half as angry as she; she felt like a dormant volcano about to blow.

“What’s wrong, Knox?” she jeered. “Didn’t you say the theme here was ‘Every Otherborn for Himself’?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually go inside,” Knox admitted. “I figured you’d give us hell and walk off, leaving the apprehension to us.”

“You actually thought I’d turn tail and run?” She jerked her arm out of his grip. “You really don’t know me at all, do you?”

 

 

Knox cursed as he watched Felicia open the door to the bar and step inside. Maybe she was right. Maybe he really didn’t know her. Despite knowing she was an agent, despite knowing she was one of the bravest women he knew, Knox would never have expected her to walk into that bar. On the other hand, he never would have guessed that the move, coupled with how flushed her face had been and how her eyes had flashed with the fire inside her, would make him so damn hard he could barely stop himself from cupping his aching balls to soothe them.

Over his shoulder, he snapped, “Cover her while I get Randolph. If it gets too rough, pull her out. I don’t care if she fights you. If she gets hurt, I’ m going to hold each of you responsible.”

But no more than himself, Knox thought furiously, striding into the bar and pushing through the crowd. He spotted her instantly. Already perched on a bar stool, she handed the bartender a bill. She’d taken off her zip-up sweatshirt and wore only her jeans and a thin black muscle tee that hugged her breasts and left her toned arms bare. In disbelief, he watched her unwind her ponytail, shake out her hair, then smile at the bartender as he handed her a beer. Tilting her head closer to him, she listened to the bartender before laughing. Her sideways glance telegraphed her awareness of Knox and the fact she was enjoying her little show.

“When you were baring your soul yesterday, you failed to mention another reason the human doesn’t want anything to do with you—you’re a chauvinist.”

Standing to Knox’s right, Wraith seemed oblivious to the number of stares she was attracting or to the path she’d cleared in the crowd. Although several males kept their distance, their murmurs of curiosity and restless movements indicated they wouldn’t stay back for long. “I’m not a chauvinist,” Knox denied, noting that a particularly muscular feline eyed Wraith like she was a piece of candy. “Vamp females rule with equal authority in my clan. They enjoy all the rights of males. They serve in the military and local police.”

“But somehow the rules change when it’s a female you’re fucking?”

Knox glared at Wraith, grinding his teeth together so loud they ached. “I’m not fucking Felicia,” he snapped.

“And at this rate, you never will,” Wraith taunted. “O’Flare and Hunt are signaling you.”

Knox turned and caught sight of O’Flare, who stood a few feet to Felicia’s right and jerked his head toward the tables lining the modified boxing ring at the center of the room. Several individuals were obviously waiting for their turn; Randolph, bare-chested but for a pair of skintight black trunks, his tattoo shining in the spotlights that had been placed in each corner of the bar, was at the front of the line. From the bloody mess the two current contenders were making of the ring, it looked like a new round would be starting soon.

Turning once more to the bar, Knox frowned when he saw Felicia’s bar stool was empty. Spinning rapidly, he searched the room just as the announcer called the end of the fight. The loser was carried by the back of his neck and pants, and unceremoniously tossed outside. “The next fighter,” the announcer declared, “is one who’s defeated every single one of his opponents. His opponent tonight—”

Still unable to locate Felicia, Knox cursed, turned, and focused on the announcer, pinning him with a persuasive spell.

Without skipping a beat, the announcer stated, “Actually, his opponent tonight isn’t up to the challenge, so we’re calling out for volunteers from the audience.”

“What?” The incredulous shout came from the man who’d just been climbing into the ring to join Randolph. He resembled a sumo wrestler, but one decked out from head to toe in Harley-Davidson leather and chains. “Who the fuck said I’m not up to the challenge? I’m gonna kick your ass—” The man lunged for the announcer, who calmly sidestepped him, allowing a pair of bodyguards to wrestle the biker to the mat.

Simon Randolph, shaking his head with disgust, watched while the bodyguards escorted his former contender outside.

“Do we have any volunteers?”

Cursing that he’d lost sight of Felicia, Knox opened his mouth to say, “Here.” Before he could, he heard Felicia’s voice call out, “I can kick the mage’s ass.”

Knox closed his eyes as the crowd erupted, many straining to see Felicia, who wasted no time in climbing into the ring. Lucy was right behind her.

“Me, too,” Lucy announced, her slight body now topless but for the lacy bra she wore, calling attention to the fact that she wasn’t as young as she looked.

Hunt appeared by Knox’s side, breathing hard. “I had Red cornered, but the mage totally snowed me. Pretended to enchant her so she could escort her to the door. I was right behind them when Lucy whipped off her top. Shocked me so much I—”

Flustered despite himself, Knox lost control of his persuasion hold. The announcer looked the females up and down, and sneered. “Nice try, ladies, but we don’t allow pussy in the ring. If Simon here wanted to fight a tag team of girls he’d—” The announcer let out a shriek as he was suddenly propelled forward and slammed face-first into the mat. While the dazed man struggled to stand, Felicia high-fived Lucy, letting the crowd know one of them, but not which one, had initiated the mental shove. As the announcer pushed himself up on one knee, Felicia backed into one corner and half crouched, gathering the power in her legs. In a flash, she rushed the announcer, stepped on his knee, and swung her other leg, bent at the knee, around the man’s neck. Swiftly, she raised her free leg across his chest then extended her body back so they both fell to the mat. She squeezed her legs tightly around the man’s throat and within seconds the announcer lost consciousness. Releasing the man’s head so it thumped back against the mat, Felicia rose and gave Lucy another high five.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Hunt murmured. “Bet you didn’t know she could do that.”

Knox started forward, nearly ripping Hunt’s head off when the were slapped a hand on his shoulder, restraining him.

“Calm down and look at Randolph,” Hunt snapped.

“The bastard looks like he’s ready to eat them alive,” Knox countered. “Now get your fucking hand off me before I bite it off.”

“You wanted her to prove she could handle being on the team and she’s doing that. You stop her now and she’ll never forgive you.”

Knox stared into the were’s eyes, knowing he was right. With a growl, he knocked off the hand on his shoulder. “Considering your performance yesterday, you’ve still got something to prove yourself. If she bleeds one drop of blood, I’ m going in. You grab the mage.”

Hunt nodded.

Randolph was circling Felicia and Lucy, who were now standing back-to-back in the center of the ring. No one in the cheering crowd seemed to care that the announcer was still lying in a heap beside them. Randolph lunged at Felicia, grabbed her arm, and tried to pull her toward him. Swiftly, Felicia extended her leg and kicked him in the balls. He was obviously wearing a cup because he didn’t flinch. Instead, he backhanded her, sending her staggering back. Knox’s muscles bunched and he couldn’t contain the fury that had his eyes flashing red. It would be so easy to kill the mage, he thought, his fangs growing with the need to rip the male’s throat out, right after he cut off the hand that had hit Felicia. At the same time, Knox saw Felicia regain her bearings and pride surged within him. Breathing hard and remembering Hunt’s words, he forced himself to stand back.

Meanwhile, Lucy lifted her hands above her head. Simultaneously, Randolph’s body levitated into the air, his face toward the ceiling. Slowly at first but then gaining speed, his body spun in midair. The propeller move was cut short, however, when Lucy suddenly grabbed her head and fell to her knees as if in great pain.

Randolph’s body dropped, but he gracefully tucked and rolled, landing on his feet in front of Lucy. With a swift roundhouse kick, he knocked Lucy backward.

From behind him, Felicia let out a battle cry. Reaching out with her left arm, she locked it around the mage’s throat, compressing his windpipe with her elbow while clasping her hands at the sides of his head. Stepping in front of his leg with one foot, she twisted to the side and used a reverse neck throw to hurl him on the ground. Recovering quickly, Randolph swept Felicia’s legs out from under her. Knox could tell the fall knocked the breath out of her. “Enough of this shit,” Knox said. “Where are Wraith and O’Flare?”

“Nine o’clock,” Hunt said, not taking his eyes off the action in the ring.

“Shit,” Knox muttered when he saw Wraith backed into a corner and hissing at the three men who’d penned her in. O’ Flare stepped up behind the men and knocked two of their heads together. Wraith used the other man’s distraction to punch him in the face. “O’Flare,” Knox shouted. “Move out.”

With a grim expression, O’Flare nodded. To Knox’s shock, he reached out, grabbed Wraith’s arm, and began pulling her through the crowd toward the door. “Hunt, I’m going in—”

But Hunt was already slipping into the ring. Felicia and Lucy had backed Randolph into the ropes. It was apparent he was straining to break Lucy’s mental lockdown on his arms, which were pinned to his sides, even as Felicia punched him repeatedly in the face. The male’s head lolled, making the tattoo on his head wave eerily as it swayed back and forth.

Hunt stepped up behind Lucy and said something in her ear. The mage nodded and shouted to Felicia, who backed away. Suddenly free, Randolph swayed and shook his head to clear it. The hisses from the crowd were clearly directed toward him. A look of murderous rage on his face, Randolph mentally slammed both Lucy and Felicia back several steps. Each one of them clasped their throats; Knox could see them gasping for air.

Knox was in the ring immediately. In slow motion, he saw Hunt slip behind Randolph and tuck his head into the mage’s back, just beneath his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around the mage’s waist and, locking his hands tight and bracing his weight on the balls of his feet, did a smooth body bend with an extremely short bridge, snapping the mage off his feet and slamming him headfirst into the mat. The mage’s neck should have shattered beneath his own body weight, but it didn’t. Both his arms, however, didn’t fare as well. Reaching down, Knox dragged the man to his feet, then hyperextended both arms behind him until he felt bone snap. Randolph howled and immediately lost consciousness. Knox shoved the male at Hunt. “Bring him outside.”

Breathing hard, he walked up to Felicia, who was gasping. She straightened when she saw him. She wasn’t bleeding, but her face was bruised and swollen. A quick glance confirmed Lucy sported what would certainly be a black eye come morning. “You proved your point. We’re leaving. Now,” Knox growled.

Felicia turned to Lucy. Flinging one arm around the mage’s shoulders, she led the shorter woman out of the ring and toward the entrance.

They all walked out the door on their own. As they did, Knox couldn’t help smiling. Already, the team had proven that the phrase “Every Otherborn for Himself” wouldn’t be applying to them.

I
t took a full day of preparation before the scientists were ready for Knox’s visit. Eventually, however, Mahone and several guards were leading him to them. Mahone walked behind Knox, who was blindfolded, his hands in front of him, his wrists linked by a pair of steel cuffs. An abundance of caution, the guards had said. Mahone had rolled his eyes, in no mood for stupidity. Knox, however, had been amused.

He still was. That was fully apparent from the small smile on his face.

Of course, it could be that the son of a bitch was replaying the events of last night, including the shock on Mahone’s face when he’d responded to the call that Knox had detained Simon Randolph, a fugitive the FBI had been trying to track down for months. When Mahone had asked where he’d found the mage, who was curiously dressed in nothing but spandex, Knox had simply smiled and said, “Felicia and Lucy kicked his mangy ass.”

This morning, when he’d picked up Knox, Felicia and Lucy had sported matching bruises and satisfied smiles. No matter how much he threatened, Felicia wouldn’t disclose what had happened.

That’s when Mahone knew for sure she was in love with the dharmire.

As they walked the designated route through one hallway after another, Mahone rubbed the back of his neck, then pressed his fingers against his temple. The dharmire’s final question to him yesterday echoed more loudly with every step he took. Mahone assured himself his thoughts weren’t because Bianca’s son had asked the barbed question so expertly. It probably wouldn’t surprise anyone, including Knox, to learn that the question—and the answer—had been implanted into Mahone’s head years before.

Nine years to be exact.

Mahone had met Bianca Devereaux six months before the War began, just when vamps had been trying to integrate themselves into modern society. As was to be expected, many of America’s human population had panicked. His job had been to try and convince the vamp Queen to accede quietly to the FBI’s requests, the top three being: (1) The vamps agree to live in a confined area; (2) they agree to wear electronic monitoring bracelets, similar to what in-home-custody defendants wore; and (3) they agree to wear some kind of identifying brand so that, when they were “mingling” with the human public, they were easily identifiable. Needless to say, Mahone’s requests were met with Bianca Devereaux’s utter disdain.