Roark and Donne thought much alike. They were the leaders of
their races within the western hemisphere of Arizona. Through
extensive negotiations and hard work, they had come to a
gentleman’s agreement. The metropolitan area of Phoenix and
Tucson were vampire territory. The outskirts belonged to Roark’s
people. Occasionally their paths crossed, tempers flared, but to
date all had been rather calm, unlike in the past.
Grady’s participation here—in this room—was inconceivable. Not
to mention the woman was held captive and apparently ravished
against her will. But the evidence before Roark said his friend
had stepped beyond the limits of lycanthrope law.
Roark’s jaws clenched. He berated himself for not taking action
sooner. For weeks he had seen it coming, but because of his
relationship with Grady he had turned a blind eye. But no
longer. Friends or not, Grady would have to pay for dishonoring
this woman.
“Where is he?” Roark spoke no name. Donne knew who he referred
to. The vampire leader was as familiar with Roark’s pack as
Roark was with the vampires. Both believed in the philosophy of
keeping your friends close, your enemies closer.
“Dead,” Donne announced calmly. Only a twitch in his jaw gave
away his anxiety.
So much for peace between their people.
Heat crawled up Roark’s neck consuming his face and ears. The
muscles in his neck crackled as he resisted the change and his
instinctive need to strike out at Donne and shred him to pieces.
The vampire had the good sense to back away as he held up an
outstretched palm. “Now don’t go furry on me, Lanier, hear me
out.”
Roark’s nose twitched, his skin itched to transform. The beast
within him paced, roared for revenge, begging to be released.
Saliva formed in his mouth. “Where is his body?” The words came
out garbled, caught between a demand and a growl.
“My people are preparing him for your return to the mountains.”
The cavalier attitude Donne usually held onto slipped. Roark
could have sworn he saw something close to regret flicker in the
vampire’s eyes. “I swear I’d never seen him like this. He
attacked not only the woman, but me. I only defended myself.”
Grady had been Roark’s best friend from the moment their fathers
had introduced them as children. They had played, hunted, and
caroused together, and then something had changed. Several weeks
ago, Grady had come home mangled and beaten. He had not revealed
what had happened to him, but he had never been the same. Quiet.
Despondent. His temper volatile—he was a powder keg on the edge.
An invisible fist squeezed Roark’s heart. Emotion pricked his
eyes making them burn. His gut was a twisted mass. How could he
tell Grady’s father? The clan would want an eye for an eye. Even
now Roark fought the need to taste Donne’s blood, rip him apart
from limb to limb. He struggled to center himself. The only calm
he found was in the chained beauty before him. “And the woman?”
“Well… That’s another problem.” The hesitancy in Donne’s voice
rattled Roark’s control. He clenched his fingers, nails biting
into his palms as he resisted reaching out for the immortal.
Donne watched him cautiously as he continued, “I felt sorry for
her, so…”
Damn vampire. The undead were unscrupulous—they took what
they wanted without permission or thought of consequences.
Lycanthropes lived by strict rules—humans were not on their
menu.
“You were attracted to her,” Roark stated the obvious. What man
wouldn’t be—she was perfection—a piece of art?
Donne shrugged. “Well, there was that. But it was your brethren
that robbed her of life.”
Just like a vampire. Disdain hit Roark hard in the face. Donne
refused to take responsibility for his actions. “So, what? You
felt so sorry that you saved her life by turning her into a
vampire, chaining her to the ceiling and floor as a trophy?”
Bitterness oozed from Roark’s mouth.
His friend was gone. Grady was dead.
Donne strolled toward the woman, stopping more than ten feet
away. “Not exactly.”
Roark pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes briefly.
He released a heavy sigh. “I tire of this game. Show me to
Grady. I wish to take him home.” Roark wouldn’t have believed it
if he hadn’t smelled and seen Grady’s devastation.
“Ah, yes. But the woman?” Donne gave him an inquisitive glance.
Roark took one more look at the luscious blonde. What had
happened was indeed a shame, yet he didn’t see how her becoming
one of the undead was his concern. He had bigger fish to
fry—like how to convince his clan not to kill every vampire that
walked the earth.
“Not my problem.” He turned and headed for the door. His fingers
wrapped around the doorknob when Donne said, “It seems she is.”
As Roark slowly pivoted, the tautness in his stomach drew
tighter. “She’s lycanthrope?”
What the hell had Grady done? He knew the law. Anger exploded
inside Roark once again. “Why is she chained? Have you so little
respect for my people?”
Donne shoulders squared. His pupils darkened as his voice grew
serious. “Like I said we have a problem.”
The hair beneath Roark’s skin prickled, tingling to be released.
The beast inside him was demanding his attention, pushing
against his will. His gums ached, his canines threatening to
expose themselves. By a thread he held onto his human form, even
as he felt his fingernails grow, curling into sharp claws.
“Explain, Donne, and do it fast. My patience has come to an
end.”
“Do you recall the tale of the Lamia?”
Donne’s absurd question forced a huff of disbelief from Roark’s
mouth. He brushed his fingers through his hair. It was a nervous
habit, but God he was tired. His heart and eyes felt heavy and
he had a long trip back up the mountain. Not to mention the
vampire was fucking nuts.
“You must have sucked the blood from one too many loony humans.
Still that doesn’t explain why she is bound like an animal.”
Donne didn’t expect Roark to believe the innocent woman chained
to the floor and ceiling was the mythical creature that had
brought destruction upon all mankind? But the gravity upon his
host’s face gave him pause.
“It appears the combination of our races is very dangerous,”
Donne stated frankly.
No way could the woman be a hybrid, half wolf-half vampire. The
bloodlust of this creature was legendary. Roark assumed the myth
was a childhood story meant to retain the purity of their races.
“You’re kidding right?” Roark asked. “She’s lycanthrope and
vampire?”
Donne slowly nodded.
There had to be some explanation. Roark tried to calm the
pounding in his head. Just the idea that such a monster existed
made him ill. “Have you seen her change?”
Donne shifted his feet. “That’s the reason for the collar.”
Grady, what have you done? The conversion of human to
lycanthrope was nearly unheard of. There were stiff penalties
for a wolf who disobeyed the law.
Okay, let’s be rational here. Lamia don’t exist. Vampires and
werewolves don’t mate. Donne had to be wrong. Roark
glanced toward the peaceful woman and felt another jolt to his
cock. Rays of electricity zapped him hard enough to steal his
breath. His beast answered with a roar. It paced restlessly
beneath his skin.
Donne and his people were confused.
Roark thought for only a moment, his resolve firmly in place. He
would take her home and make up for what Grady had done to her.
As leader of the Mogollon Rim Pack, she would be his
responsibility. If he had addressed Grady’s problem before now
this wouldn’t have happened.
The hardness in Donne’s stance relaxed, he gazed upon her with
something close to appreciation. “Perfect is she not?” He took
another step closer, stopping just out of her reach. “When awake
she draws men like honey—” he paused before adding, “—to their
deaths.”
“What?” This was ridiculous.
“Yes. She is a veritable black widow. She almost killed two of
my men, Titan and Darta. They only meant to feed her, but she
can be very seductive when she’s awake. And well, they also
wished to accommodate her lustful needs, after which she turned
furry and nearly took their lives.”
Roark couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “There is no way an
injured woman could take on one vampire, much less two. Not in
her weakened condition.” Yet Roark knew a lycanthrope’s sexual
needs and hunger were always an issue with young female wolves
when they came into their first heat. There was no telling what
would happen during the heat cycle of a converted wolf.
He had witnessed a human’s transformation once. The
life-changing hormone lycanthropes released during a bite that
altered a human to wolf had been outlawed because of its
erratic, unstable, results. The woman’s death had been necessary
to ease her suffering and to protect the pack and the secrecy of
their kind.
“My pack stopped turning humans several centuries ago. Grady
knew this. He wouldn’t—”
But evidently his friend had. It did Roark no good to keep
trying to ignore the obvious.
“Your man was not in control,” Donne interrupted. “The truth
lies before us.”
“If what you say is true, you should have let her die.” Roark
regretted the words the minute he said them. But it was true.
How would she live? The human race would not welcome her, nor
would she be accepted by the wolves or vampires. And if what
Donne said was true—that she was dangerous—they had no
alternative but to end her life. His beast screamed in protest,
sending a tremor through him.
“How was I to know the abomination she would become? So, what
are we going to do?” Donne asked.
“We?” Damn Grady. What the hell was Roark to do?
“Yes, we. She will not be welcomed in my world.” Donne confirmed
what Roark already knew.
An uneasy chuckle pushed from his tight lips. They faced each
other. “And you think she will be in mine? The only solution
is—”
“Release me now.” A female’s disgruntled voice finished Roark’s
sentence with a recommendation that was far from what had been
on his mind. She could not live in this world. He jerked his
attention to where she hung.
His breath caught.
She was the most incredible creature he had ever seen. And he
was right. Her eyes were sky blue.
