Passion Bites: Biting Love, Book 9 (16 page)

“Sweetheart. If she wants to go back, you can’t stop her—”

“I have to try.” I swallowed. “Luke, he was getting increasingly abusive. If she goes back to him this time, I’m afraid he’ll kill her.”

He studied my face, then nodded. “Okay. Elias doesn’t like our interfering in purely human affairs, but point out this husband to me. I’ll try voicing him to leave Lizelle alone. Get abuse counseling.”

“No!” My shout hurt my already sore throat. “No,” I said more quietly. “No more changing plans, no more
trying.
When Lizelle changed colleges, that was the first warning. I tried to adapt. I
tried.
But that was wrong. What I should have done was insist we keep to the plan. Not to
try,
but to
do.
Not to feel, but to think.” I tried to pull my hands away.

“Sometimes the plan doesn’t work.” His frown was underlined by his tightened clasp, not letting me escape. “Things change, situations change. People change. Alexis, I understand your desire to push the plan through, but—”

“I’m going to work for Marrone.”

His whole body seemed to freeze. Then he said, “Marrone isn’t the way. There’s going to be a hidden cost with him; there always is. A gotcha. Sometimes the best course of action is to change plans.”

“Change plans?
Change plans?
That’s what I’m trying to tell you. A change of plans leads to
disaster.
”

As if I’d cued it, on the word disaster, alarm bells started ringing.

Chapter Sixteen

Luke heard the alarm with his whole being. Those bells weren’t the smoke alarm or carbon monoxide detector. This shrill clang meant one thing.

Vampire.

They were being attacked. He reached for his mist…

An almost physical tension reined him back. He felt as if a tether connected him here, to—to Alexis.

Ridiculous. He reached for his mist again…and snapped solid. He could no more leave her open to danger than he could stop drinking blood.

Fine. Made no sense, but vampire realities sometimes didn’t. He swept her up, both of them shoeless, and pounded up the stairs.

The vampire mates, residents and party guests were crowded together in the back half of the anchor apartment’s living room, Bo and Elena and those who were able holding weapons, at the ready to defend them. The residents were already in one spot to be shielded—one thing this cursed party was good for.

Julian and his lieutenants were driving rogues back out of the door. Luke set Alexis down behind Bo, gave her a brief, hard kiss, and went to join the fighting.

“How’d Strongwell get the short straw?” Luke said to Julian between striking off vampire heads.

“He’s designated spouse today. After last night’s near debacle with all of us arriving so late, we saw the need.”

“The DS stays with the mates so the rest can mist into battle? Good idea.” The instinct to protect the household was strong, but Luke understood now how it paled compared to the imperative to protect a mate.

Not that Alexis was his mate…

His cock twitched, mocking him. Damned thing had a mind of its own. It nodded happily against his fly, forcing him to admit that maybe—just maybe—Alexis
could
have been his mate, if he’d been free to take one. She certainly had the stubborn will necessary to resist a vampire’s mental domination.

But he had to remember Adelaide. What meaning would her life have had if he forgot her?

And when had remembering her become his duty, his onus, rather than his privilege?

Anger and frustration surged and crashed inside him and made him hack at vampires twice as hard. There were fewer this time, and they seemed less well-organized. The fight was soon over.

“Bo, Thor.” Julian took charge after. “Stay with the humans until we can check the perimeter. Start talking to the non-householders about what they saw.” Code word for erasing. “Nikos, Reece, you’re on outside duty. Sweep and clean.” Code for scooping up stray vampire parts. “Steel, with me. We’ll scour the place for wandering guests.” He stalked toward the back hallway.

Luke held up a hand. “Get started. I’ll be right there.” He had to check on his family first, on the twins…and on Alexis.

He found himself at her side. His feelings around her were confused, but that didn’t stop him from kissing her deeply, like a promise. He raised his head, embarrassed. “I have to check on the children.”

Her beautiful eyes opened. “Of course. You should have done that first. Go.”

He smiled. “I don’t have to physically check. I can sense any donor within range.” The children weren’t donors—that was anathema and rightly forbidden, but the twins were his flesh and blood. He could sense them like he could his own brother. The loquacious Zinnia had donated on an occasion or two; he’d make sure she was safe upstairs as well.

He closed his eyes and accessed his blood sense for Zinnia and her charges, waiting for the ping on his internal radar…yes, there was Zinnia…but no one else.

Luke’s eyes snapped open, transformed instantly into the dangerous predator’s, vision red and ears pricked, his gums throbbing as his fangs sought to emerge.

Nothing else was wrong, no sting of fear-sweat or adrenaline. But then, where were the children?

He tried to mist upstairs but found himself turning to Alexis first. He was beginning to see how hard it was to tear himself away from her, especially with potential danger.

But he was, first and foremost, a protector, trained by the biggest, baddest protector on the planet, and the twins were his family. He’d go to them, as soon as he explained to Alexis, wondering what words to use to make her understand quickly enough. “I have to—”

“Go.” She pushed him. “Whatever is wrong, fix it.”

He blinked. She was either incredibly perceptive or totally in sync with him,
like a mate
… The indicators were coming too thick and fast to ignore. His heart skipped a beat, then started pumping even stronger. He’d have to deal with the issue, but later. He delayed one moment more, to grab her by the shoulders and give her a quick, hard kiss, then released her. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

He misted upstairs, into what he recognized as a playroom. Zinnia, normally a perky, perfectly-put-together super mom, was quivering in one corner, spinning round and round.

“They’re gone! I can’t believe he took them. He’s a
hero.
It’s inconceivable—”

“Zinnia, slow down.” He caught her by the arm and led her to a chair where he crouched next to her, examining a bruise on her forehead. Nasty, but already healing, and more importantly, he could sense no corresponding damage inside the skull. “What happened?”

“I was watching the children—I told Twyla to go enjoy some of the party. I knew you’d be up soon to help.”

Luke winced.

“Owun came in. Everyone told me how brave he was, rescuing that woman, and I felt flattered he’d join me. Thoughtful too. He’d brought a tray of soft drinks for everyone, and he and I chatted about the trials faced by our protector brethren—”

“Today, Zinnia.”

“Oh. Right. Well, the kids were bouncing off the walls, and he offered to take them to the park across the street. It was nice of him, but of course I knew Emersons and the rest of the parents wouldn’t like it if the kids were out after dusk without one of the Protectors of the Night—not even with a hero, not if he was human—” she caught Luke’s slight baring of fangs and rushed, “—but he was so nice and polite and then suddenly I was
so tired
and somehow I was nodding in agreement and then just nodding off. And then my head hit the table and the pain woke me, but the children are gone! He must have drugged me.” She clasped herself and moaned. “But he was a
hero.
A good guy.”

“Everyone was fooled.” While she’d talked, Luke had already done another blood scent scan for the girls. Nothing, which was worrisome. How had Owun taken them beyond the range of his blood sense in such a short time? “I’ll track them. Don’t worry, Zinnia, I’ll find the kids. You go tell Julian what happened.

“Of course, Mr. Steel.”

He focused on the scent of Sarah Jane and Ellen Ripley, channeled the hunter inside him and leaped down the stairs.

Strongwell called after him as he raced toward the back of the townhouse, but he’d caught the trail and time was of the essence. Zinnia would tell everyone what had happened. Emerson and Strongwell would follow and provide backup.

Mist would’ve been faster, but without blood-scent/taste to locate the children, he’d need his tracking senses, eyes and ears and nose.

He followed the trail on foot, running as close as he could get to top speed, dodging workers in the kitchen and leaping cars outside, digging his toes into sod to slingshot around trees through the park, chafing at even the few miles per hour he lost because of the obstacles. But falling or slamming into a car could potentially delay him more.

The children’s scent led him through the local park and out again. As he ran he filtered the smell through his perception. Excited but not frightened—except for the boy Rorik. His scent was touched with a tang of caution.
Good boy.

On the other side of the park, the children’s trail led to and combined with the exhaust of a vehicle. Luke stopped, ice crowding his veins.
They’d been taken in a car.

That was a big problem. The sting of exhaust was strong and fresh starting out, but as the vehicle progressed, its signature would combine and blur with all the other traffic on the road. Unless there was a problem with the engine and it burned oil or leaked coolant, a car in the city soon became impossible to track.

He turned circles, tasting the air for any unique scents.

Sugar. Sweet cream overlaid the childish excitement and vehicle exhaust, and whiffs of mint, chocolate and strawberry.
Not a car. An ice cream truck.
A scent he could follow.

Dieu merci.

Luke drew the scent into his lungs and set off, pushing himself to his limit.

As he ran, it struck him how much this was like the last attack, a vampire battle serving as distraction for a smaller, well-trained, cohesive group, there for one purpose—capture.

And in this case the victims were children.

Luke snarled, anger and fear clawing his gut as his feet ate up the city blocks. Worse, the first attack had primed the man Owun to be trusted. It smacked of advanced planning, and Luke had no idea who or why.

The trail headed west.

His bare feet began to sting. He ignored the pain, focusing all his senses. His eyes captured even the smallest movement. His ears sorted through city and animal noises and even the rustle of leaves to catch even the faintest clue.

Just as the twins pinged on his internal radar and his heart eased with relief, he caught the distant but quite distinct sound of tires squealing on pavement in a quick getaway.

Chapter Seventeen

My stomach churned, waiting for Luke to return with news of what was wrong. Unaccustomed anxiety invaded my cells, an acid eating them until I wanted to claw off my own skin. All this
feeling.
I suddenly understood how some people got hooked on alcohol and other drugs, only wanting to make the itching burning
wrongness
go away.

To keep myself from self-combusting in worry, I went to talk with Twyla, who was chatting with Nixie and Elena under Bo’s watchful eye.

I’d reached them when a gust of wind blew down the stairs and out the back.

Bo snapped out, “Steel? What’s—fuck. He’s gone.”

That was when Zinnia stumbled downstairs, blurting about the missing children.

All my worry combusted into pure fear. Brave wounded Sarah Jane. Stoic extraordinary Rorik. Precocious little Jaxxie.

Bo closed his eyes as Luke had. They snapped open, gone blood red as Luke’s had too. “They’re out of range. Damn it!”

“You can’t sense Rorik?” Elena’s voice was cop-steady, but a mother’s terror glistened in her eyes.

“How is that possible?” Twyla’s fear echoed Elena’s.

While they stood there, stunned, trying to absorb the situation, my training and sheer stubbornness took over, and I clamped down into Crisis Mode. “Zinnia. Tell us exactly what happened, as concisely as possible.”

She seemed glad someone was telling her what to do and sketched in her story about Owun volunteering to take the kids to the park. She finished with, “And when Mr. Steel heard, he rushed to follow the trail.”

I forced a calming breath through my nose. I’d already seen how competent Luke was. I could take comfort in the fact that he’d find the children and save them, or die trying.

Although the “die trying” wasn’t all that comforting.

“Who is Owun?” I asked.

“A new member of our household.” Nixie shook her head. “
Ex
-member. When Julian hears about this, he’ll be skull-breaking mad—at both the traitor and himself. Speaking of.”

A column of misty gray swirled into being, collapsing in a crackling whisper into the black-haired lawyer. “What’s the commotion? A third attack?”

“Owun,” Nixie said. “He…he…” Her face reddening, she couldn’t seem to get anything more out.

I provided, “He took the children outside under suspicious circumstances.”

As Bo had done, Julian closed his eyes. When they snapped open they were violet-red, and he snarled, “Damn.”

“Steel is tracking them,” Bo said. “I was getting ready to follow.”

“I’m coming with you,” Elena said. “I’ll call the cop shop on the way, have them ping me if a 911 comes through.”

“I’ll tap Ms. Hinz and we’ll man the phones here.” Nixie spun on her heel and trotted out.

“I’ll head for the hospital,” I said. “In case—” I barely stopped myself from saying
in case the kids are hurt or worse.
“In case there’s any movement there.”

“Good idea,” Julian said. “Thank you for helping out.”

“Of course. Anything I can do.”

Luke heard the car squeal in getaway, and his stomach dropped out his bowels. No reason to think it was connected with the children—except for the sear of certainty in his blood.

He screeched to a halt and closed his eyes to concentrate on the blood scent/taste. Yes, there, at the edge of his perception, were the blood of his blood, hurtling away at a speed that suggested a faster vehicle than an ice cream truck.

He prepared to blow into mist and rocket after—when what had been one large ping separated into two.

One of the twins had been left behind.

“Hell.” Bursting his body apart, he streamed toward the nearest ping, collapsing a moment later to the heart-wrenching sound of weeping children. He ran, his lungs rasping, the rat-a-tat of small hearts tugging him faster.

Four children huddled near a dark building in an industrial park—lot empty except for a gaily painted ice cream truck abandoned nearby.

He picked out Ellen Ripley first, then the dark curls of Emerson’s daughter Jaxxie, the light brown fuzz of Steve Johnson’s son and the short waves of Sparta’s boy Tyge.

“Mr. Steel?” Jaxxie saw him first, her blue eyes shimmering with relief. “Thank goodness.”

“Uncle Luke!” Ellen Ripley broke from the huddle. “That mean old Owun took her. He took Sarah Jane. I’m scared, Uncle Luke.”

Luke’s blood curdled. But he kept his voice steady when he said, “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll find her.”

“Owun’s a bad man.” The scowl on Tyge’s little face was an echo of his Spartan father’s.

Luke wanted to run off in pursuit of Sarah Jane immediately, but first he needed information, then he needed to make certain these children were safe. “Tell me what happened, as quickly as you can.”

Jaxxie said, “Owun took us to the park.”

Ellen Ripley nodded. “But when we got there, we saw an ice cream truck.”

“The driver was smelly.” Jaxxie’s little nose wrinkled in distaste.

“But he was nice to us,” Ellen Ripley said. “He took us for a ride in the truck and said he’d give us ice cream after.” Her lids lowered a bit guiltily. “We’re not supposed to take rides with strangers, but Owun said it was okay.”

“Owun,” Tyge growled, putting all his feelings in that one word.

“It was fun at first,” Jaxxie said. “We all wanted to, except Rorik. But then we stopped here and Owun grabbed Sarah Jane and dragged her to the van.”

Ellen Ripley said, “We jumped out and tried to stop him, but he threw Sarah Jane inside then tried to throw me in after her.”

“So I grabbed him,” Jaxxie said.

Tyge snarled. “He hit Jaxxie.”

Luke swore under his breath. “Are you okay?”

“It hurts.” Jaxxie turned her face to reveal a bruised and swelling eye.

Luke bit back a curse and took a moment to check for concussion or other danger indicators. Nothing immediately threatening. “You were very brave.”

“I made him let Ellen Ripley go.” Jaxxie squared her small shoulders. “I think he would have tried again and maybe even snatched all of us, but the driver guy yelled ‘Steel’s coming’ and Owun and the smelly guy jumped in and they took off.” She frowned thoughtfully. “The van’s driver—his voice sounded really familiar.”

“Uncle Luke?” Ellen Ripley’s quavering tone distracted him from Jaxxie. “I escaped, but he got away with Sarah Jane. I should have stopped him.”

He sought to reassure the children as best he could. “He’s an adult. You couldn’t have done more. None of you could have. Don’t worry, I’ll take it from here.”

Briefly, he wondered why Owun had used the ice cream truck to bring the children here, and hadn’t simply grabbed the kids right outside the townhouses. Maybe afraid they’d scream and be heard?

Didn’t matter. What mattered now was following the van before the scent was lost, and getting these children to safety.

Tapping his earbud phone, he said, “Call Emerson”, then popped the earbud out and handed it to Jaxxie. He didn’t like to leave the children undefended, but with the trail growing colder, time was of the essence. He had to move, but not before calling for backup. “Your father will answer. Tell him to come get you.” Julian would know to get the GPS of the bud.

The little girl took the small device gravely, then proved she was her mother’s daughter. “Mr. Steel? Go get the bastards.”

Giving her a quick smile, he turned and opened his senses.

“He followed her,” Tyge said suddenly.

Luke frowned over his shoulder at the boy. Time pressing, he almost didn’t ask. But this was Sparta’s boy—every word was important. Luke said, “He, who?”

“Rorik. Running as fast as he could.”

Rorik?
This was good news indeed. “You’ve done well.”

As the earbud in Jaxxie’s hand wafted, “Steel?”, Luke snared the scents and sounds of the deepest night, ruthlessly sorting through fading childish adrenaline to pick out the fear of one small girl-child, the burn of an engine, the determination of a boy-child and the eager musk of adult men.

All headed southwest.

Luke bounded off, snapping after the scents like a bungee cord. He ran as fast as he could, then faster, pounding the pads of his feet raw. The van’s signature would soon fade and blend with those of other vehicles on the road.

But the boy’s scent would remain unique—while Rorik could keep up.

If the boy had been a normal human child, that might have only been a few hundred yards. Certainly he couldn’t have stayed with an accelerating van for long.

But this was Strongwell’s son—and more importantly, while still in the womb, Rorik had shared the lifeblood of a millenniums-old vampire in a tragedy that nearly killed the boy and had a terrible cost for the vamp.

Rorik lived but was changed, made something more.

Still, he was a child. He couldn’t hope to keep up with the van forever. Luke pushed for every ounce of speed he could muster, trying to calm the fears clogging his throat.

Suddenly Rorik’s scent was gone.

Luke’s heart skipped, and he screeched to a halt, turning in circles, trying to pick up the scent again, to piece together what had happened. Surely if the boy had lost the van, he’d be nearby.

No Rorik. Something else had happened.

Falling face-first onto the ground, Luke breathed deep. Here the boy’s scent was strong; yet inches away it disappeared…almost.

He leaped to his feet—and the scent strengthened, ever so slightly. Luke crouched. The scent faded. Standing, it strengthened, as if Rorik had taken to the air.

Shape-shifting?

But even as it occurred to him, he rejected it. The boy was only five or six. It took a thousand or more years to be capable of shape-shifting. Besides, a better answer had occurred to him.

Rorik had jumped onto the back of the van.

“Bright child,” Luke murmured. For the first time his heart lightened and the chill in his blood lifted slightly. He zeroed in on the boy’s distinctive smell wafting in the air, and took off.

As Luke’s nose sped him along the trail, Rorik’s scent freshened. Without that bright scent, Luke might have missed it when the van’s trail curved south, then abruptly east. He fisted one taloned hand.
Gotcha.

Luke pressed himself to run faster yet and nearly stumbled when a car swerved into his path. Belatedly, he noticed traffic was thickening. He was heading into the Chicago metro area.

His blood chilled with foreboding, and his breath seemed to steam on the June air. He’d never live with himself if he didn’t find Sarah Jane in time.

As he ran, he cursed himself. Why hadn’t he gone upstairs to check on the children sooner? Why had he let himself be drawn to Alexis, to have sex with her, almost as if it were a compulsion…? Deep down he knew the answer—because it wasn’t sex but lovemaking, almost unbearable in its sweetness.

He knew the answer, but he rejected it as impossible.

He was almost glad he and Adelaide had never had children. He couldn’t imagine how much worse this would be if that was
his
child in the clutches of a madman. If her life hung on the slim thread of the speed and smarts of a human boy.

As the population became denser, both people and traffic, Luke continued to run at speed but hunched over as if he were riding a bike, keeping to the shadows and trusting the imprecise lighting to hide his secret. He’d give his life to protect his family. He’d be damned if he’d let a little thing like the vampire masquerade keep him from his niece.

I’d give my life for her.
It was a price he’d gladly pay.

Less gladly now that he’d met Alexis.

The boy’s scent thickened, turned into a parking lot. Still hunched, Luke followed, but even before he caught the glint of a trio of glass office buildings, he knew where he was and the buzz of foreboding became a wail of alarm.

Marrone’s lab.