Authors: Sierra Dean
“What was your payment to be?”
“A thousand.”
“You will forfeit the payment for this kill, and for the next. You are lucky I’m not having your hands ripped off.” I said it so matter-of-factly I gave myself a chill.
Shane opened his mouth, likely to protest, but I waved one freshly manicured hand towards the door and turned away, telling him he was no longer of concern to me. The bounty hunter stomped over to the big double doors, and as he jerked them open, I couldn’t resist a famous Tribunal parting shot.
“Oh, and, Mr. Hewitt?”
Shane turned, and he must have been mad because he made the mistake of meeting my eyes, something a smart hunter would never do with a vampire unless they wanted to risk being enthralled.
“Don’t disappoint us again.”
The night air was bracing, cold enough that I’d look insane for not wearing a coat, so I was bundled in a chic Burberry plaid trench I’d splurged on after Christmas. There was one decided bonus to being elevated to a Tribunal seat—a black American Express card with my name on it and no pesky questions about what I chose to buy.
I’d had the card for a few months, and I still tried to avoid using it whenever I could rely on my own money instead. But now that I was no longer hunting rogues, my major source of income had gone up in smoke.
And the coat was so
pretty
.
Trotting down the steps of the council headquarters, a huge building which mirrored Grand Central Terminal in style and scale, I stopped at street level where my escort awaited.
Holden Chancery could stop my breath in my throat and make any lady with a pulse trip over a few heartbeats. His dark hair was slicked back and teased his nape with its length. The tight set of his chiseled jaw told me he wasn’t in a great mood, and the blazing intensity in his dark brown eyes expressed a deeper emotion he wouldn’t let show on his face. He was pissed.
“Who peed in your plasma?” I asked, standing in front of him, my hands tucked in the pockets of my coat.
He glowered at me, nostrils flaring with barely concealed rage.
What the hell?
“Let’s go,” he snarled.
The sentry could be grouchy at the best of times and was prone to more mood swings than a group of sorority sisters whose cycles had synced up. For once, though, I was certain I hadn’t done anything to deserve it.
He was already a half block away, which made him pretty poor protection. Personally I didn’t think I needed a bodyguard everywhere I went, but I’d been glad to have the option of choosing Holden as my escort instead of any of the warden lackeys Sig could have given the job to.
When I’d first been appointed to the Tribunal, Sig had several warden guards follow me at a discreet distance. I’d subsequently put the kibosh on that system and now it was only Holden who kept an eye on me. I thought he’d been happy with the arrangement, but maybe I should have asked him.
“Holden.”
He stopped walking but didn’t turn around or come back. Even though chasing him wasn’t on the top of the list of things I wanted to do tonight, it looked like I didn’t have much choice. I cleared the distance at a jog, admiring how well the Jimmy Choo’s kept up. I’d taken my Choo’s through some pretty rigorous drills, and they never ceased to amaze me.
For six hundred bucks a pair, I should hope I could jog down a block
and
kill vampires in them.
When I was standing in front of him again, it was my turn to look pissed.
“What the hell is going on?”
“It’s nothing. I’m here. Let’s just go.”
“No.” I stood stock-still and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Don’t you have some sort of
date
I need to get you to?” His tone was cold and sarcastic but not angry. Under other circumstances I would have assumed he was jealous because I was going on a date with Lucas, the area werewolf king, but his voice indicated that wasn’t the problem here.
“Lucas can wait. What’s your problem?” Okay, so it sounded snippier than it could have, but if patience is a skating rink, I tend to stick to thin ice.
Holden grumbled and wouldn’t face me, which was unusual for him even when he was being a grump. He stared out at the bustle of SoHo, the streets teeming with life in the midst of a cold February night.
“It’s Rebecca,” he said at last, huffing out the name as if it tasted bad on his tongue. Rebecca was a council elder, one of the highest-ranking vampires other than Sig, Juan Carlos and myself.
She was also Holden’s maker.
“Okay?” I responded, still not sure what his vampire-mother had to do with his surly demeanor.
“She wants me to demand a favor.” He gave me a pointed look, making me wish he’d kept avoiding my gaze. “From you.”
“Why didn’t she come to see us? We held open audience today. She could have asked us—”
“No, Secret. She doesn’t want a favor from the Tribunal. She wants one from you personally.”
A knot formed in my throat, and it hurt to swallow. I wish I could say Rebecca was out of line asking me for a personal favor, but the fact was I should have expected this a long time ago. It had been over two years, but I’d killed one of her children, and I was a fool if I thought she’d forget my execution of Charlie Conaway, sanctioned or not.
My partner, Keaty, had once told me every vampire death is a burden to their society, and the rogues I killed were part of someone’s family. Charlie had been Rebecca’s family, Holden’s family, and now I was going to be held responsible for his death. She couldn’t punish me, or call me out. I outranked her, and unless she wanted to challenge me in a fight to the death, she needed to be diplomatic about her actions.
So she got to me through Holden.
“What does she want?”
“It seems her consort is unhappy.”
“And I can correct this
how
?”
“I believe you know Genevieve Renard.”
The queen of the were-ocelots and entrepreneur extraordinaire. Of course I knew Genevieve Renard.
Everyone
knew her. I was aware she was involved with Rebecca, but I hadn’t realized it was so serious.
“What happened to Genevieve?” My tone grew serious. More than being acquainted with the ocelot queen, I also liked her immensely, and she was one of the rare exceptions where I believed she felt the same. If there was something I could do to help her, I’d do it without being forced by her vampire girlfriend.
“Rebecca was less than forthcoming with the details. She asked that I secure your assurances and—”
“Yes.” I could feel him building up to a big spiel, and I didn’t have the time for it.
He shot me a disappointed look, scolding me with his eyes for my impatience.
“What?” I replied to his unvoiced disapproval. “You came here to make a request on behalf of your maker. Request granted. Can you stop being such a grumpy bugger now?”
“Oh, Secret.” He hefted a sigh.
“Tell Rebecca I’ll help Genevieve, and I’ll do it without any demand of payment. If I can help her consort, we’re even. Understood?”
“I don’t speak for her, but I suspect that’s the arrangement she had in mind.”
I puffed up, grinning. Man, I was getting pretty good at this vampire political stuff. First, I’d cut our hunter down a few pegs, and now I was bartering over the redress cost of a vampire’s life. My grin faded, and the knot in my throat doubled in size.
God. Who was I becoming?
Holden seemed to notice the change in my demeanor because he forced a smile and put an arm around my shoulder, pulling me in for a hug that felt awkward, especially when he patted me on the back twice, two hard thumps.
“Don’t worry. It’s not like you’re selling your soul,” he crooned, as if he’d read my mind. “You’ll help the cat queen. It will be like one of your old cases.”
Yeah, Keaty was famous for being a fan of pro-bono cases that put us under the thumb of a vampire elder.
I sighed. What was done was done. I’d agreed to take on Genevieve’s case, and I
would
help her. The implications could be dealt with later. For now I would file the whole thing under
helping a friend in need
so I could think about it without getting dizzy.
This time it was my turn to say, “Let’s go.”
A wave of bodies surged forward through the main doors of Madison Square Garden, and I was caught up in the swell. I wasn’t a fan of crowds at the best of times, so Lucas had to know I was making an effort when I agreed to meet him here to see a Rangers game.
I’d grown up in Canada, so a love for hockey was as second nature as breathing, but I liked to watch it from the safety of my living room, or on the TV at a downtrodden sports bar. The only reason I’d agreed to come was that it was a late-night charity fundraiser game, and I hadn’t expected it to be busy. Turns out I know nothing about crowd mentality when it comes to hockey. This many people all crushed together, their adrenaline pumping, their pulses twitching with the vigor of their collective excitement…
My gums ached, and my breath hitched.
Stupid wolf king and his bright ideas. We’d be lucky if I got to the second period without singling out the old and the weak. I was already scanning the crowd for easy targets.
I didn’t feed on humans. It was one of those rules I had etched in stone, a line in the sand I would never step over. My blood came from donor bags and was stored safely in my fridge at home. But just because I didn’t allow myself to feed on people didn’t mean the urge wasn’t there. I
was
half-vampire, and the siren song of blood could sometimes crash into me with a demanding frenzy, like a heroin junkie aching for one more fix.
If I didn’t get hold of myself, I was going to be in trouble. I could feel my sharp canines throbbing against my gums, begging for release, and I had no doubt my pupils were swelling to take over my brown irises.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought ahead. I’d eaten before leaving the council headquarters, indulging in the small blood supply I’d insisted they keep there for me when I’d realized they expected me to feed on living donors like they did. But you wouldn’t know I’d taken proactive measures now. The din of Madison Square Garden was threatening to turn me into the monster I was capable of being.
A shudder rippled through me as the flavor of cinnamon filled my mouth. My lupine energy awoke like a sleeping dragon and expanded outward until my whole body vibrated with the blistering heat of it. It quieted the vampire urges.
I hadn’t realized how tense I was until my inner wolf curbed the out-of-control-vampire part of me. Usually it was the cool, collected vampire who kept my wolf on a leash, but this time my lycanthrope nature had been called out in the nick of time. And she hadn’t woken up because of me.
She was awake because of the heady taste in my mouth telling me the wolf king was nearby.
He might never know how close to the edge I’d been, but he’d pulled me back just in time. My heart leapt. I didn’t love Lucas the way I loved Desmond, but it didn’t mean I felt nothing for him.
I spun on my heels, scanning the crowd for Lucas. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t be difficult to spot. Tall, blond and handsome, he drew attention wherever we went. But with this many people around, he’d be playing it cool, toning down his larger-than-life aura the best he could. Being a media-shy billionaire meant he had learned how to blend, even though he was born to stand out.
The Red Sox ball cap gave him away.
God love my werewolf boyfriends, but the one thing they couldn’t agree on was baseball. They had the same taste in movies, music, food and obviously women, but they turned into bitter rivals when the topic of the MLB came up. Desmond was New York proud to the core and swore he bled Yankee blue. Lucas was such a big Boston fan he’d actually purchased the franchise. They could share a girlfriend, but they would come to blows over the World Series. Go figure.
Lucas sidled up to me, and though my heels gave me a slight advantage, I still needed to look up to see his smile. Funny how his silly grin could light a spark inside me, even when I was worried I might start biting people any second. The reaction I had to Lucas was akin to ice cream melting on a piece of hot apple pie. Sticky-sweet and instantly comforting.
He stooped and gave me a chaste kiss on the lips, placing both his big hands on the small of my back, sending a wave of warmth through my lower body. I grazed his chin with my nose, then kissed the bow in his lower lip as the last of my anxiety shivered out of me. It was no secret how ecstatic I’d been when he shaved off his beard a few months earlier. His stubbled chin was as much facial hair as I wanted to deal with when we got to smooching.
“Hi,” he whispered, tugging at my fancy hairdo. “You’re a little dressed up for hockey.”
I twisted my mouth into a sly smile. “Yeah, sorry. I’m meeting my billionaire boyfriend here. You’d better not let him see you flirting with me. He’s real mean.”
“Oh yeah? Big, brawny, jealous type?” He pulled me closer. The crowd had started to thin as people moved into the arena to find their seats.
“You know it.” I took one of his hands in mine and stepped out of his embrace. Without letting go of my grip, he spun me so his arm was looped around my shoulder and we were still holding hands.
“Let’s get upstairs.” His tone was more serious than before, but there was no edge of lust to the words. He wanted to talk business, not go at it in his private box. My assessment was confirmed when he added, “Something’s happened, and we need to talk about it before the whole pack finds out.”
Great. As far as date nights with Lucas went, we were right on schedule. A little sweet talk, followed with a heavy dose of serious business.
In hindsight, wearing red to a Rangers game when they were playing the Jersey Devils was not my wisest fashion decision ever. The dirty looks I got on our way to the boxes, coupled with clever one-liners like, “Stupid she-Devil” made me wonder at the mob potential of a crowd of hockey fans. Thankfully we didn’t have to share the box with anyone.
We took our seats close to the front with all the pretense of actually watching the game. Now that we were away from all the people, part of me really wanted to relive the thrill of watching night pond hockey games in Elmwood like I’d been able to as a kid, but Lucas had other plans in mind. He stroked his chin, a habit he’d picked up when he’d had a beard that had stuck with him when the hair was gone.