Prince of Power (12 page)

“Sure. But he's after all of us, and we have to think of the greater good here. And you're not back at a hundred percent yet.”

“I can fight, Thad.”

“You just came out of suspended animation not long ago.”

“I'm healed from that. You were there when Brayden gave me the go-ahead.”

“Apparently your poor judgment needs more time on the bench. You tried to charge into a den of wizards with nothing but this asshole here as backup.” He gestured to Anton. “No offense.”

Anton shrugged into his jacket. “None taken.”

“Thad, there was no way you were going to trust him to give you valid information.”

Thad sneered, his fangs bared slightly. “No question, bringing a wizard into our midst was risky and stupid and something I would never have allowed, had I known about it. Does that mean I wouldn't have gathered and tried to use his information?” He jabbed his finger in the direction of the assembly of soldiers. “You tell me what it looks like I'm doing here.”

He folded his arms over his chest and nodded to Siddoh. “Report hourly, whether or not there's action.” He stepped up to Anton, almost as if they were squaring off. “And if he puts a single toe out of line, disable him.”

Anton didn't even blink. Siddoh tapped Anton's shoulder and motioned for him to walk ahead, which he did without question. No word, no look back at her.
Stand
up
for
yourself, dammit. He just gave Siddoh permission to kill you.
“Anton…” Her heart squeezed and flopped around hopelessly inside her chest, like a fish unable to find water. There was really nothing to say, was there? Not now, certainly. Not in front of everyone.

Maybe not at all.

Thad moved closer, and his blue eyes stared expectantly. Daring her to argue more. The group moved out, taking Anton along with it. Anger boiled up and she bit the inside of her cheek. The tang of blood hit her tongue.

Finally, Thad sighed. “Why don't you come back to the house, huh? Have something to eat. We can talk strategy, and if Siddoh calls in, you'll be there to hear about it.”

Tyra couldn't seem to make her lips move. Her feelings toward Anton were muddled. The sex had been… she didn't have the words. That he'd walked away without so much as a glance back twisted like a serrated knife in her gut. It had been his first time, right? Hadn't that been special? She'd thought that the intense, indescribable emotion that flowed between them when they'd made love had been mutual, but maybe she'd been so wrapped up in herself that she hadn't read his experience properly. Or at all. It took a little focus to read another's emotions, and Lord knew her blood was not all in her brain at that time. But for once, she'd hoped sex like that had meant more.

Like crazy, she hoped so.

Thad shifted. A hand landed on her shoulder. “Tyra. I understand why you want to go, but you're too close to this.”

“And Anton isn't?”

Thad shook his head. “Of course he is. But he's got information that you don't.”

Tyra's breath ghosted in front of her. She jammed her hands deep into her pockets. The team left across the frozen grass to load up and roll out, and Tyra grew sicker with each collective footfall on the grass. With fear… with dread… with doubt. Now that the warmth of her bedroom and the feel-good chemicals from having sex had all floated away, she found herself wondering things about Anton that she shouldn't be.

Could his good intentions overcome his biology?

Thad nudged her shoulder. “Actually, he's got some balls if you ask me.”

She rolled her eyes as she turned to face him. “I didn't ask you.”

He laughed mordantly. “I just gave Siddoh the go-ahead to end him if he did anything suspicious, and he didn't react. Pretty hard core. Or stupid.”

“I swear, Thad, if he gets killed—”

“If he gets killed, he knew what he was signing on for. I love you, Ty, but my greater duty is to the thousands of vampires still alive on this planet who are in danger of being killed off by an enemy race. If I can use him, I will use him. And if he turns out to be playing both sides, I'll fucking kill him.”

Not a damn thing she wanted to say in response that would be productive.

Thad's eyes all but shot daggers at her. The team was long gone before the two of them gave up the stalemate and walked back to the mansion in silence. There was too much anger and mistrust between them to say a word.

“Xander, I trust you.”

“No.” Xander's harsh tone put a stricken look on Theresa's already strained face, and he immediately cursed himself. He took a deep breath and calmed his tone, even as his gut cramped and twisted. “No. Theresa, it isn't safe.”

“Xander, I still talk to the other fighters' mates. I know what's going on out there. I just heard that they're pulling reserve fighters to go after the wizard leader. There's a rumor about a wizard on the estate who has offered his help in finding where they hide. Even without that, for weeks now there have been increased civilian attacks downtown. They need you out there. You want to go, too. I can tell.”

He ran a hand through his hair. They were on the back patio; Theresa was hanging clothes on a series of folding racks while the baby slept bundled under about a foot of knitted blankets in a wicker basket on the patio table. It was winter, and it wasn't as if the female didn't have a dryer or the money to run it, but she insisted on line-drying her clothing now that she was healed up enough to get around with the basket. Some vampires clung to the old ways, sure, but this? Fucking odd was what it was.

The baby slept with his tiny fists balled against his cheeks, lips pursed as though even in sleep the kid was ready to kiss somebody. Every time Xander so much as looked at the tiny thing, it ripped his heart out anew. Eamon would have fallen in love immediately.

Xander sure had, but he was just an interloper here and didn't belong. He'd overstayed as it was. Still, he was stuck in some kind of uncomfortable limbo—that baby was just so damned small and he was needed on the front lines, but something kept whispering in his head that he was needed here more.

He'd waffled on the blood issue for too long, and now… well, he'd been handling his shit, but if he sank his fangs into Theresa or anyone else, he was taking a huge risk. And his host was taking a bigger one. “Theresa, it's been months since Tam was killed. I…” Shit. A sob tried to sneak its way out, and he pressed his lips together firmly enough that his fangs, which had already begun to lengthen at the mention of feeding, poked into his bottom lip. He focused on the baby, whose eyes fluttered and rolled, hands occasionally opening and closing, lost to some dream about who the hell knew what. “I could kill you. I already told you, I'm not leaving that kid down another parent.”

She sighed. Almost an exasperated sigh, like that of a mother impatient with her child. “Is that what you think? Seriously, Xander.” She draped an itsy-bitsy bodysuit and a pair of rainbow-colored leggings over the rack and walked over to him. It was a breezy night. Her warm, honey-colored hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. A few strands had pulled free and blew across her face in the night breeze. “I know you were ordered here to watch over us, but I'd like to think you and I have become friends.”

He ducked his head. “Of course we're friends.” Hours and hours of Theresa on bed rest, nothing to do but talk, how could they not have become friends?

She bent her knees and weaved back and forth a little, looking to make eye contact with him. “So you trust me, right?”

He'd always hated that question. They'd gone through that shit in training: “You trust me, right? Okay, so go ahead and fall backward, naked and bloody, toward this pool of UV light and piranhas. Don't worry, man. I'll catch you.” He couldn't hold back the low growl. “Theresa, of course I trust you. What the hell kind of question is that?”

She shushed him and looked pointedly over at the little one, who had squirmed and rubbed a fist over his eye mid-sleep. “So trust me when I say that I can be sure you won't hurt me, okay?”

He was dimly aware, just then, that he didn't even remember the exact date. But it was sometime after the first of the year, which meant it had been a good six months since he'd last drunk blood. Six months was an okay time period for most vampires, but for a fighter it was a long damn time. And since giving Theresa his blood, his hunger had increased exponentially.

He was in pain. He was damn tired. After giving serious thought to offing himself, he'd realized he didn't want to go out like that. And deep down, he knew Tam wouldn't have wanted him to do it. And tonight… he drew in a deep breath. The fight was a long way off, but still he could practically smell the blood in the winter air.

He missed it.

He searched Theresa's face, but his body had already decided. His feet moved forward, and his fangs filled his mouth. His fingers curled, ready to grab for her. Just as he stepped into her physical space, her delicate hands came against his chest. “Sit.”

Xander bristled at the command, but his ass hit the cold surface of one of those chaise lounge thingies faster than he could think. She sat next to him, slowly and carefully, and then it was all over.

He struck fast, and he struck hard. Her body was warm and comforting and pliant beneath him, and her blood was tart with hints of blackberry and walnuts. He loved the taste of walnuts; he could eat bags and bags of them until painful bumps popped up all over his tongue.

He drank until he went blind from the pleasure of it. Until the ache in his gut eased and beyond it. Until the ever-present ache in his injured shoulder disappeared and his veins sizzled with a vitality he'd begun to think he'd never know again. He drank until the body in his arms went slack and heavy, and somewhere in the distance a baby cried.

Stop
.

But the blood was rich and delicious and slid down his throat so easily, and once it was there in his throat there was nothing to do but swallow, and then more was there in his throat, and then…
Stop.

He gripped harder. His nails dug into soft fabric even though his host wasn't putting up a fight. The baby cried again. He'd known this was going to happen. He never should have agreed to this.

Stop
.

A hand brushed over his forehead, and his eyelids got very heavy. He yawned, his mouth stretched wide, and his tongue extended to lap up one last taste of berry and walnut. It was as if he hadn't slept in days and days. Had he? He couldn't remember. Why couldn't he remember? His body seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

The baby cried again, but this time its wails died down, answered by a sweet lullaby of some kind. Brahms? Theresa had such a lovely voice. It was his last thought before the world went dark.

***

Anton was staring at an empty stone-walled room.

They'd found the portal to the wizards' den. They'd made it inside, and they had found a whole goddamned lot of abso-fucking-lutely
nothing.
Not one wizard. Not one. Not even his father, who as far as Anton knew had been too paranoid to leave his stupid evil command center in a good year at least.

“I don't understand,” he murmured.

A small group of vampires shifted and muttered behind him from just inside the portal entrance. The air inside the empty stone-walled room was cold but stagnant. The immense silence was peculiar. In all his years, this dungeon-like hideaway had always stirred with activity.

This didn't look good.

The big one, Siddoh, stepped up next to him. “You're sure this is the place?”

“Dead certain. Take a deep breath.” He'd gotten used to it over the years. Even now, to some degree, he could filter out the smells from the blood sacrifices that were done down the hall from the assembly area where they now stood. After having been away for a while and breathing fresh air, though, he thought the air here seemed far more disgusting than it used to be.

Siddoh sucked in a breath and gagged. “Shit.” He coughed. “So where is everyone? I don't get even a hint of an evil aura.” He did a slow circle in the bare, stone entryway. “Where on earth are we, anyway?”

“To be honest, I don't know the answer to that.” Anton shook his head slowly. “Never have. I don't even know for sure that we're
on
earth.” He laughed dryly. “Mast—my father was careful about controlling certain information.” He threw his hand over his shoulder. “There are no windows or doors except the portal out into the woods, which always made me think either we're underground or…”

“Or?”

“…somehow in some kind of alternate dimension.”

Siddoh whistled.

Anton didn't respond but wandered slowly, hands open and at his sides. He stepped through a stone archway that opened onto a long hall. Body memory steered him right toward the living area: the eating hall, the Master's private quarters, rooms for the wizards to bunk in. Everything sat empty but waiting, like they'd all just stepped out for a smoke break or something. Nobody anywhere.

He turned back the way he'd come. His footsteps clapped on the floor during his long trek to the ceremony room. This was the only room in the place that didn't look like something out of the Stone Age, but Anton still avoided it whenever possible. The tiled walls and floor, the drain in the center—they were all there for easy cleanup after the sacrificial ceremonies.

It was all he could do to stay standing when he entered.

Two defiled bodies lay side by side on the floor, not yet taken for “disposal.” The chests were cut open. Blood everywhere. He swallowed the bile in his throat and brushed off the tears that sprang to his eyes. They were a male and a female. The woman's light green eyes were wide in terror. Frozen that way.

The stench was indescribable.

“Oh hell…”

Anton didn't look up at the sound of Siddoh's voice. He was still stuck on those two matching tattoos. Calla lilies, intertwined with matching halves of the sun and moon, on the back of their wrists.

“They don't usually just leave them like that.” He closed his eyes, but the image was just as clear so he opened them again. “The tattoos…”

Siddoh pushed a hand through his hair. “Mating symbols.” He gestured vaguely. “You can tell by the style they were done fairly recently. Ink's dark. And the colors and whatnot. For a long time, convention held that they were done with black only. 'Course back in the day, you know, before we had the mechanical needles and everything…” His voice faded and he furrowed his brow, probably wondering just as much as Anton why he was talking about tattoo technology just then.

“Anyway, we'd better get back. Just got word from the boys that there's increased activity in the residential areas. The others have already headed out. Something tells me your wizard brethren got wind of this expedition and used the opportunity of our diverting manpower to bring some damage.”

Shit. How?
“Siddoh, I didn't know. There's always someone here. My father rarely leaves.”

The big vampire rubbed his eyes and turned for the door. “Let's just go.”

“What about these two?”

Siddoh hiked his shoulders. “Hate to say it, but taking them out of here is too risky. For all we know, the bodies have been rigged or messed with in some way.”

“I just don't understand how they could've known. I swear I haven't been in touch with anybody.”

“Doesn't matter how. Just matters that they did.”

They stopped short when they reached the portal in the stone entry hall that would take them back outside. The shimmery, dark oval was a narrow space as such things went, and the two men couldn't go through side by side. Nor would Siddoh trust Anton to go through ahead of or behind him. So they went out the way they'd come in.

In the world's most uncomfortable bear hug.

The two rolled apart as soon as they hit solid ground. “Sorry 'bout that, buddy. Not usually too keen on cuddling up with the males my exes are fucking, but I think we have a problem.”

Anton was still struggling through rage and despair at seeing the couple in that room. It wasn't like he hadn't grown up with it, hadn't seen the ritual many times—far too many times—before. But still… His eyes burned. Even after living with it, he never got used to the aftermath like that. And the couple, newly mated.

In love.

He sneered at Siddoh and started walking in the direction of where they'd parked the cars. “I don't think you really want to go there.”

Siddoh must have invoked his power to go invisible because the air around Anton stirred and the weight of a heavy arm landed over his shoulders, but he couldn't see Siddoh at all. “I think we do need to go there.”

“And why is that, exactly?”

“'Cuz whatever went on before with me and Ty, I'm still out to protect her and I want to make sure we're on the same page.”

Anton flung off the invisible arm. “I wouldn't be out here with you at all if I didn't intend to protect her.”

They pulled up to the car. The vehicle lights flashed and the two got in. “You sure about that?” When the doors were closed and locked, Siddoh reappeared with his face inches from Anton's, eyes narrowed and fangs extended.
Oh
shit
. “Because it looks an awful lot like you led us on a wild-goose chase so your posse could lead our civilians into an ambush.”