Jorlan leashed his cat before it could pounce on the bounty spread before him. It snarled and fought, wanting to mount the she-cat displayed so temptingly. It could smell her burgeoning heat. Jorlan restrained it but couldn’t resist getting another taste of her cream. He was, after all, a male breeder in his prime.
However, this one wasn’t for him. She was special, and taken, whether she admitted it or not. While his little cousin may not know who’d claimed her, he did. He recognized the scent. Tariq Bastien, owner of The Gladiator and leader of the local vampyr clutch. After learning about Reyna’s unique heritage, he’d made it his business to know everything about vampyrs there was to know.
He took one last look at the swollen, glistening slit in front of him before raking his claws down her left flank and sprinting for the door. The chase would take her mind off the arousal between her legs and give her time to get used to being in her altered form. If it also had the added benefit of temporarily keeping Tariq from finding his woman, well, a cat had to have some fun.
He pawed open the door and raced down the hallway to the atrium with Reyna on his heels. At his roar, other Felini in shifted form came pouring out of doorways, running with them. Reyna made quick work of fighting off some of the males who thought they were strong enough to mount her. Once they saw she couldn’t be convinced, they turned their attention to climbing trees and racing along the branches, launching from limb to limb. When they tired of acrobatics, they swam in the pool and sunbathed on the rocks.
Exhausted from playing, Reyna collapsed onto her side and slept, her pride gathered possessively around her. Jorlan took one last look to make sure she was safe, shifted, and went to make a phone call.
Once in his room, he pulled out a briefcase he kept locked in a closet safe. Inside was a disposable pay as you go cellphone. All the rooms were sound-proofed but as an added precaution, he went into his bathroom and closed the door, adding an extra layer of protection against being overheard.
Punching in a number so familiar he could do it blindfolded, he waiting for voicemail to pick up and left a simple message, “Call me.” Then he settled down to wait.
Five minutes later, his phone rang. As soon as he answered, a voice demanded, “What’s happening?”
“She had her first shift.” They never used names. Even with all the protective measures they’d taken, it didn’t hurt to be careful.
“When?” The voice on the other end was tense, abrupt.
“Not long ago. She’s sleeping.”
“What triggered it?”
This is where it got touchy. “It’s as you figured. She needed more stimulation than what our males can provide.”
Complete and utter silence.
“There’s more. She’s been marked by one of them.” No need to say who “them” were.
“Do the others know?” The response was immediate, panicked.
“No, just me. The scent and the scar faded when she shifted.”
A long shaky sigh greeted the news. “We always knew this was a possibility. If one has claimed her, why is she there? Their possessiveness rivals our males.”
“Because she ran,” he muttered disgustedly. At her shocked exclamation, he added sourly, “You’ve given her little reason to welcome a union with one.”
“I had my reasons,” she said tersely.
“I know,” he reluctantly acknowledged, “but whatever your reason, she’s the one suffering for it.”
“The innocent always suffer for the actions of others,” she said bitterly. Then she sighed again, as though the weight of the whole world were on her shoulders. “I know you don’t agree with my methods but please know my only purpose is to protect her.”
“I know.” He did, no matter that they didn’t always see eye-to-eye on how best to accomplish their mutual goal.
“Call your senior males together. I wish there was someone there to properly prepare her, but no matter. You know what to do.”
He frowned. “Is this really necessary? She’s already shifted and experiencing her first heat. You know how the last one affected her. It took her years to recover.”
“You must!” Her fearful cry hurt his sensitive hearing. “It’s expected she take her proper place. As long as she remains in our world, she must follow our rules. It’s for her protection.”
They both knew their species, with their isolation and racial purity policies, were dying out as a breed. They needed new blood, but their prejudices against other races wouldn’t allow them to reach out. “I’ll do it,” he said, unable to help the bite in his voice.
“I know you don’t agree, but I promise this will only serve to make her stronger. Please see to it without delay. We can’t afford for news of her transition to get back before proper measures have been taken. You know there are still those in power who would take pleasure in destroying her.” It was a stark reminder of the dangers still facing his charge.
“And what of the male?” he asked, wishing none of this were necessary.
There was a beat of silence. “Help him with her, but not too much. If he was strong enough to claim her, then he must prove he’s strong enough to keep her. Both their lives may depend upon it.” She disconnected without saying goodbye.
Jorlan’s chin dropped to his chest as his arm fell, allowing the phone to dangle between his spread legs. Taking a few seconds to collect himself, he rubbed his face with his free hand and sighed. Sometimes he wondered if he were doing the right thing. It seemed so disloyal to Reyna.
In addition, he hated all the secrecy. It felt more like he was conspiring against Reyna rather than protecting her. She should know the full truth of the circumstances of her birth, not the lies she’d been told. She deserved the opportunity to explore both sides of her heritage.
He flexed his shoulders and rolled his head on his neck, loosening tight muscles. Best get it finished. In this instance, his queen was right. Time was of the essence. The sooner Reyna was with her vampyr, the safer she’d be.
Jorlan lifted the phone and dialed another number.
“Club Gladiator.”
“Give your Master a message. The one he searches for can be found at Illuminator Incorporated.”
“Who is this?” a harsh male voice asked.
“Who I am is not important. Relay the message.” He hung up.
One task completed. Time for the next.
Enrique winced as another thud sounded from two levels above. At the rate Tariq was going, the whole penthouse would have to be refurbished. A deep pall hung over the club. The brethren went about their duties casting wary glances at one another. None had ever seen their Master go off the deep end like this, even the oldest among them who’d known him for centuries.
“Master Enrique.”
Enrique almost jumped but quickly suppressed the instinctive reaction. Mind elsewhere, he hadn’t noticed the fledgling’s approach. “Yes, Barrak. What is it?”
“A male called with a message for the Master. He wouldn’t identify himself,” he quickly added, forestalling Enrique’s next question.
“Tariq’s…busy,” he stated wryly as another series of thuds and thumps sounded. “What’d they say?”
“The one he seeks can be found at Illuminator Incorporated.” In the fledgling’s eyes was a curiosity he knew not to express. One such as he wasn’t privileged to know their Master’s business.
Enrique felt his gaze sharpen, along with his interest. “A male, you say? And he didn’t leave his name? Did you trace the call?”
He could see the answer in Barrak’s gloomy expression. “We tried and failed.”
“This male, he called Tariq by name?”
Barrak was already shaking his head. “He said, ‘tell your Master.'”
Curioser and curioser. While the general populace was aware of their existence, not many knew of the inner rankings of their society. “I’ll handle it from here. Dismissed.”
Enrique almost smiled at the expression of intense relief that crossed Barrak’s face with the knowledge he wasn’t expected to personally deliver the message. He couldn’t blame Barrak. Enrique wasn’t exactly looking forward to what could amount to a suicide mission, but someone had to beard the lion in his den. As second in command, the dubious honor fell on him.
He went to the private elevator, punched in his personal code and held his palm to the reader, gaining access to the penthouse. When the doors opened, he stood there for a moment, completely stunned. The furniture was annihilated. Wood tables and chairs reduced to splinters. Lamps, nothing but dust and fragments. Metal, what there was of it, twisted and warped beyond all recognition. Fabric ripped and shredded. Enrique spotted a lone spring, which at one time must have been part of the makeup of the leather couch, no longer in existence.
“Leave.” The deep, feral voice came from his left.
Schooling his features and emotions to impassiveness, Enrique stated, “We have a lead on your Heart’s Blood.”
Quicker than a blink, Tariq had him against the wall, dangling by the clawed hand at his throat. “Where. Is. She?”
“Illuminator…Incorporated,” he choked out.
Enrique waited with bated breath until a flicker of sanity appeared in Tariq’s eyes. To approach a Master in the midst of a blood rage was to put one’s life in jeopardy and when that Master was also a prince, pure suicide. Slowly the claws disengaged from his throat. Tariq allowed his body to lower until Enrique once more stood on his own two feet. He didn’t make the mistake of thinking the danger was past.
“Tell me.”
“An anonymous call came into the club. Male. ‘Tell your Master the one he seeks can be found at Illuminator Incorporated.’ He didn’t stay on the line long enough for the trace to work.”
He watched as the red slowly bled from Tariq’s eyes until he resembled his normal, calculating self. “Get someone on it. I want to know where the call originated.”
“Already working on it,” he assured.
He breathed easier as Tariq removed his hand from his throat and flicked a glance around the room. “And get a crew in here to clean this mess.”
“Yes, Master.” He spoke to Tariq’s rapidly retreating back.
Grateful he’d live to see another sunset, he went to carry out the Master’s orders.