“Hurt her and I’ll kill you
.
”
Gabe strengthened his mental barriers against the telepathic Drachon and gave a curt nod, ignoring the pain in his skull from the effort of controlling his fierce urge to attack. The last thing he needed was one of those damn mind readers in his brain when his entire being was being torn apart by the burning for the tiny woman the bastard hovered over.
The crossbreed turned slightly to glance in his direction, the dark liquid brown of her eyes meeting and holding his firmly. Dark brows arched up over eyes that had an exotic tilt to them. She had a wide mouth with full lips and a small, heart-shaped face. That sexy little diamond stud winked at him from her nose again. Despite her young, girlish looks he could sense the strength and resilience that ran just beneath her innocent exterior. She was letting him know who she was with that steady gaze.
The challenge stirred him in ways he wasn’t yet ready to willingly acknowledge.
His gaze traveled down over her compact form. She was wearing a pair of faded jeans that formed perfectly around the small curve of her ass and were worn through at the knees. They hung low on her hips, revealing the very sexy curve of her back.
Inside him the beast pressed against his control, its hunger burning him from the inside out. He wanted to learn every satiny shallow and swell of her body with tongue and fang. Gabe almost groaned as he felt his canines lengthen in response, not to mention the other parts of his body that quickened at the descent of his thoughts.
Her hooded zip-up sweatshirt and print tank didn’t quite meet the top of her jeans, revealing a delicious strip of pale skin and the shadowy depression of her belly button.
His eyes returned to hers and she narrowed them, letting him know she was aware of his thoughts. Her eyes denied his possession, and he lifted one corner of his lips in a parody of a smile, revealing the sharp tip of one canine. She turned away from him and approached the desk, dropping negligently into a chair to casually inspect her nails.
“What’s up, boss?”
Kyeros Forestor turned away from the window and cocked a black brow at her slumped form but said nothing. Incog was his company, and Gabe couldn’t help but admire the Guardian, even if his past was a bit shady. On the outside, Incog was completely legitimate, filing yearly taxes and providing security for humans and Arcane alike. Yet Gabe knew Incog provided a backdoor service to the Arcane community, helping them discreetly resolve problems without having to involve the Triumvirate.
Even power-hungry Elementals turned to Incog for help. And there was no lost love between the witches and the Guardians. After the Elementals had enslaved them for several hundred years, relations were understandably strained. In fact, the relationships between all four species of the Arcane were precarious at best. But there was one issue that they all agreed upon – the Triumvirate. The Triumvirate frequently abused the power it had gained through a magical blood pact between all of the species of the Arcane long ago when the Arcane were nearly annihilated by wars with each other, and humans hunting and killing them out of fear. But the pact had left all species that entered into it powerless against the Triumvirate. All species of the Arcane Alliance were powerless to resist and lacked the knowledge to sever the pact. Those that tried usually disappeared.
Most species worked to stay out of the notice of the Triumvirate, even Guardians. Kyeros Forestor seemed no different.
“Raife, I’m reassigning you,” Forestor began. Kel jerked up in her chair, but Forestor held up a hand to stay her, his authority and power swelling within the room.
Raife laid one large hand on her shoulder, and she turned her head up to him with a dark frown.
Was the Drachon speaking to her?
Gabe narrowed his eyes on the hand that touched his woman with too much familiarity. It shouldn’t matter to him, not this soon with such a minute amount of blood exchanged. Yet the emotion that surged up through him was cold and dark, a deadly drive clenching his muscles.
She slashed a look at Gabe and began to shake her head at Raife, but the Drachon’s large hand squeezed her shoulder.
Gabe shifted restlessly as the darkness in him expanded, his hand dropping to the blade strapped to his thigh beneath the long jacket. His breath caught and rattled through his chest as he exerted more control over the foreign sensation. Sanguen were well-known for their restraint, yet his was shattering before his very eyes.
As though sensing the rising danger, the Drachon darted a sharp look at him.
Raife dropped his hand away from her shoulder and bowed his head down for a long moment as he stepped back.
A twinge of surprise ran through him. The big man was acknowledging his claim. Although Sanguen and Drachon had no lost love between them, Gabe should have known a Drachon male, more than any other race of the Arcane, would respect the mate bond.
Forestor watched the exchange impassively from behind his desk. His pale eyes carefully assessed them all with a predatory stare. Guardians had been bred and trained to protect the Arcane, but evolution had stepped in and now many existed for their own purposes. They were strong and incredibly shrewd. And violent. They could be very violent. Very few of the Arcane trusted them. Gabe was no different.
This Forestor seemed very controlled, but Gabe’s bond to the crossbreed was new and precarious. The other males in the room with her made him edgy. He rolled his shoulders restlessly in an unsuccessful attempt to ease the tension.
“Raife, I have a new investigation that I need you on. If you are willing.”
The Drachon shrugged his massive shoulders. “Nothing to lose.”
Forestor nodded. “We’ll speak of it later.” Then he sighed and leveled those strange eyes on the crossbreed. “Kel.”
Kel.
It was an abrupt name, yet oddly feminine. Much like the woman herself. He decided it fit her.
“I want you to investigate the death of that Sanguen the other night. The House marshal will partner with you during this investigation.”
“What?”
Kel jerked up and twisted violently in her chair to glare at him as he strode forward. “You’re a House marshal?”
The words barely made it past her clenched teeth. He noted the length of her fangs with no little pleasure. Short, shallow breaths hissed past those flushed lips. She was having just as difficult a time controlling herself as he was.
Gabe slowly advanced on her, their eyes clashing. There was this driving need in him to assert his dominance over her, to make her acknowledge his claim. He stopped when he stood directly over her, looking down his chest into her flushed face. She obviously didn’t like a House marshal interfering with her case.
“Kel Sheridan, I’d like you to meet your new partner, Marshal Gabe Ferrar.”
Gabe frowned when Kel jumped to her feet and shimmered to the opposite side of the room, her brown eyes sparking with fury and hatred at the mention of his name. There was something else that briefly surfaced before she covered it. Pain. The emotion was real and embedded so deeply in her that he felt it score his own soul.
“I’ll never work with a Ferrar. Never.”
THE BLOOD DEALER was a fool to contact him in such a blatant manner so soon after the questionable death of that imbecile, Pryor. That fool had nearly exposed everything with his carelessness when he roused the suspicions of the damn House marshal. If he hadn’t had the decency to get himself killed, he might have ended everything right there. But now there was a new lamb, one that obviously didn’t know who he was. That could work to his advantage. Using someone from his own House had been an act of desperation on his part, and nearly a disastrous one.
But the hunger was an unending craving that ate away at him. He was searching, always searching for just the right essence. He’d had it on his tongue before, and now it eluded him. But he craved it until the gnawing pain threatened to cave in on him. Blooding those lovely little girls kept it at bay. Allowed him to keep searching.
That idiot Pryor hadn’t been able to deliver. But there was some merit to his suggestion that they begin to look to the more populated cities for the girls. Hunting too close to home was arousing suspicion, attracting the attention of the House marshal. And Gabrial Ferrar was nothing like his father and could not be trusted to follow the orders of the elders. He would continue to look for answers until he was satisfied.
“What do you want?” He kept back into the cool darkness of the limo’s backseat.
The blood dealer that called himself Centrone jumped and squinted into the shadowy interior of the vehicle. “I thought you may be looking for a new dealer. I may have an arrangement of interest to you.”
“I’m listening.”
Centrone licked his lips and looked around. The fool was using tainted blood. He could smell the stench of human all over him. “I know where to get new sources without arousing suspicion.”
“Go on.”
“I could cleanly provide your sources.”
He leaned back against the padded seat and considered that. It could be the perfect arrangement. This man would not arouse suspicions with his House. And, he thought with a sharp, dark smile, this man could easily be eliminated if he outgrew his usefulness and most likely no one would mourn his passing.
“I assume you have conditions?”
The dealer shifted restlessly. “I want to offer my product to your House males.”
The man stilled. Ambitious little weasel. It was, of course, out of the question. This little dealer obviously was ignorant of the structure of a Sanguen House. He was most likely raised in one of those corrupt little city communities. It would be impossible for someone from the outside to have access to the inside of a House unless he was dealing through someone on the inside. He most certainly would not be sacrificing his position by being that person. “I may be agreeable to some sort of arrangement.”
The dealer stiffened. “You have a condition of your own?”
“Well, of course. I will not shoulder all the risk. In order for such an arrangement to be successful I will need the marshal removed.”
“You want me to kill your House marshal?” His tone was incredulous. “How in the hell am I supposed to do that?”
“That is for you to determine. He is currently within your city working with an agent of Incog.” He felt the disgusted sneer coat his words and he cleared his throat. “That should make him an easy target.”
“Incog?” He paused, his eye shifting. “I do this thing and I’m in?”
The man’s thin smile was smooth. “Yes, you will definitely be in. In the meantime, I will require a source no less than once a month.”
The dealer’s smile was oily. “I brought a gift of good faith.” He disappeared and reappeared.
In his arms was a delicious little girl. She was all eyes, so full of fear that the man felt his mouth water and his canines lengthen. Long strands of dark hair fell around her little pale face. He wouldn’t be able to wait. With a shaking hand he reached forward and rapped on the dark glass separating him from the driver.
“Retrieve her. The man will wait for her.”
The vehicle shifted as his driver exited and soon the little quivering bundle was placed on the seat next to him. Her eyes were large in the dim interior of the vehicle, her dark hair long and silky. Like
hers
had been, his first. Would this one be as sweet, would she satisfy the craving the first had created? He pulled the girl to him and breathed in the sweet smell of youth.
Several moments later as his driver removed the young girl’s lifeless body, he leaned back on the seat and felt the blood surge through his veins.
“Have the dealer dispose of her.” He hissed tightly. “Then you know where I wish to go.”
It was such a delicious burn. The blood infused his body, giving his skin a ruddy flush, heating him. The leather creaked loudly in the quiet of the car as he shifted. So much life pulsed through him, hardening parts of him that would otherwise remain lifeless. It made him a whole man. At least for a short time. He ran his finger down the hard length of his cock through his slacks and writhed with a groan.
“Hurry,” he barked at the driver.
A fucking Ferrar.
Kel jabbed at the bag and absorbed the force of her punch through her entire body with a sense of satisfaction. Forestor had taught her long ago when she’d been a half-feral teen how to work through the aggressions so common in her kind.
Crossbreeds.
With a low growl she spun in the air and landed a lethal roundhouse kick that rocked the heavy bag.
Despite the years that had passed, she could still hear the scorn in the voice of the headmistress at her first Triumvirate home. She was a dirty crossbreed, worthy of nothing. She deserved everything she got. She’d been innocent then, but innocence never lasted long in one of those fucking places. The worst part was she knew the difference between that place and a real home. She’d spent the first twelve years of her life in a loving House with her mother and grandfather. When her grandfather died, she and her mom had been dumped on the doorstep of the Ferrar House, but a crossbreed was forbidden to stain the purity of their precious House. They’d even condemn a child to hell to protect their pure blood.
Well, they could all go to hell for all she cared. And they could take their sexy House marshal with them.
A surge of fury rushed through her, and she pounded into the bag with a mindless ferocity, willing that unwanted emotion to drain away.
The specially constructed heavy bag crashed to the floor, followed by ten feet of Kevlar-reinforced cable that had been carefully moored into the concrete ceiling. Kel winced when a chunk of concrete landed with a heavy thud, still attached to the steel ring.
Oops
.
With her breath burning a path through her chest she stepped forward and peered up at the hole in the ceiling with a chagrined sigh. Well, at least
she
felt better.