Authors: Susan Sizemore
The voice of the other Prime at the table chimed in. “Amen.”
Francesca continued talking to Strahan. “The Tribes have grown weaker and weaker while our cultures have prospered in the modern world. We have been trying to destroy their culture and can’t blame them for hating us.”
“Even if they deserve it,” said the witch.
“So, they’re conspiring to bring down the Clans and Families by getting us to out ourselves by responding to the recent attacks. They want the media spotlight all over us. They’re used to living in hiding, while we’re living more and more among mortals. They are certain they’ll survive while the villagers will take torches and pitchforks to the rest of us. And that’s still not all that’s going on.”
“Are you about to agree with my personal conspiracy theory?” Strahan asked.
“That there is someone behind the scenes manipulating the Tribes who are manipulating the Purists? And that the conspiracy started decades ago? Oh, yes, I quite agree.”
“Who? Why?” Strahan asked.
“The usual suspects. The usual reasons for war—we have what they want.”
“You think we’re really fighting mortals who are
hiding behind the more obvious enemies?”
Francesca nodded. “Mortals with the resources to finance research to provide the Tribes with knockoff daylight drugs. Mortals with the resources to create a private security force of feral werefolk. Mortals with contacts in the very secretive Purist community. Mortals with the resources to recruit disaffected offspring of mortals and Primes.”
“There are too many of those dwelling in the trusting bosom of the Clans and Families,” the other Prime said. “The Tribes are right not to allow that sort of breeding. The population explosion of half breeds is a big mistake.”
Francesca ignored him. “I think there’s a secret master out there somewhere pulling all the strings. You’ve been preaching it for years, Strahan. It’s always sounded like a crazy conspiracy theory, but I believe you’re right.”
Strahan beamed at her. “You think I’m right.”
Oh, Lady, a Prime with deep dimples!
He took her hand in his.
She enjoyed the warmth and latent strength in his touch and didn’t try to pull away. She said, “I may agree with you, but that doesn’t mean we’re dating.”
The witch sitting next to her gave a snort of laughter, and Francesca finally broke away from Strahan’s penetrating gaze.
She looked around the table and focused on the blond shifter. “I’m guessing that right now, the area werefolk are meeting to argue over whether or not to go along with this plan to keep the locals out of the fight. Their leader was furious at the stunt the Matri pulled trying to execute a werewolf. That’s going to make the shapeshifters leery of following any vampire’s orders.”
“They are meeting,” the shifter said. He looked to Strahan. “I did my best to soothe the situation, but you need to talk to Shaggy Harker again, Tobias.”
“It’s already on my list.”
“Maybe you should make him an honorary Dark Angel,” the witch suggested. She tapped her watch conspicuously. “You do have a date this evening, Tobias.”
He glanced at his own watch. “It’s getting a little late out on the East Coast.” He held up a hand as the witch frowned at him. “Just saying. A promise is a promise.”
“It’s not like Saffie’s going to be in bed just because she’s supposed to be. I’m sure Saffie’s up doing homework,” she added.
“Speaking about flunking potions class . . .,” he muttered.
The witch gave him a shrug and an unconvincing innocent smile.
Strahan focused on the group around the table.
“Let’s wrap this up. Joaquin, let Shaggy know about Joe’s investigation into the ferals. The local werefolk can help in the hunt if anything turns up,” he said to the shifter.
Joaquin nodded. “That will make them happier.”
“Make the rounds of everywhere we’re guarding, Jake,” he said to the Prime. “Get a personal feel for individual situations.”
Jake stood. “Understood.” A second later the Prime was gone.
Strahan turned his attention to the witch. “How soon before you can dose the Purists, Dee?”
She went over to the stove and sniffed the steam rising from the copper pot. “It’s ready, boss.”
“Then do it. I’ll want Sid Wolf to interrogate them when they’ve gotten their memories back. She was recruited for her telepathic talent; this will be a good test of it.”
Dee dipped fragrant dark liquid into a thermal container and turned to leave the room. “I’ll give Sidonie a call as soon as they drink this.”
Francesca couldn’t repress a stab of jealousy at the fact that her friend Sidonie had a purpose among the Dark Angels, a role in protecting the immortal community, while she remained—Flare, Fantasy Lust Object To All Primedom.
Boring.
Ben and Domini had left the kitchen and had
probably gone back to playing Arkham Asylum. Francesca started to get up to see if she could get in on their game night. A thought from Strahan stopped her.
Stay. There’s something I want to discuss with you. But first . . .
He dialed a stored number on his cell phone, then put the phone to his ear. He smiled in anticipation.
As the phone rang Francesca stared at him in surprise.
What the demons could he want me for? Other than the usual.
When the phone was answered his anticipation turned into a glow of pleasure. “Working hard or hardly working, Saffron, my love?” Tobias Strahan said after a young female voice said hello.
“Daddy!” An enthusiastic squeal carried to Francesca’s ears.
“Daddy”? A daughter? Wait a minute.
Francesca was almost viscerally aware that Strahan wasn’t bonded. But only bonded Primes took any part in
rearing their female offspring.
Well, Sidonie’s sire had been involved in her life, but Sid Wolf and Tony Crowe never did anything like other vampires.
Strahan had been born Tribe even though he was raised Family, and as Jake had so recently pointed out, Tribe Primes weren’t exactly loving parents of mortal offspring. And this girl must be mortal.
But there was love in Strahan’s voice as he spoke to the girl and love in his thoughts and feelings toward this Saffron even as he began to lecture her about some trouble she was in at school.
It looked like he was a hard man with a soft center.
She smiled at the thought, but only for a moment. Until she realized seeing this side of the Prime threatened to bring down the necessary walls she’d built up.
His caring emotion was so strong it twisted Francesca’s heart. She almost ran from the room but refused to be so cowardly. She wanted to hate Strahan, but her grief wasn’t the Prime’s fault. Probably it was only biology. She loved a mortal but was attracted to an alpha male of her own species.
Alpha female to alpha male was the natural order of things.
Damn it.
She got up and walked to the patio doors, rested her forehead on the cool glass, and concentrated on
the sound of the nearby ocean instead of the telephone conversation behind her. Seeing the reflection of the back of Strahan’s head in the dark glass didn’t help. There was something . . .
appealing
in the way his ears marred his perfection just a little.
She closed her eyes and remembered—Patrick. She hadn’t let herself think his name for a while, or think about the way his gray eyes could go from bright with laughter to an icy warrior’s stare. A shiver went through her and a fist tightened around her heart.
He was dead.
Lately she’d been more obsessed with the idea of her love for him than loving him, hadn’t she?
She wanted to remember the touch of his lips on hers, the feel of his hands on her, but those tactile sensations were lost to her even though her body ached with growing longing.
Strahan’s suddenly raised voice drew her attention back to the conversation. “No, I will not call Mrs. Palmer. If you were given detention, you know better than to try to get out of it.”
“But it’s not fair! I should be able to read whatever—”
“What does fair have to do with it, Saffron Strahan? Weren’t you raised to take responsibility for your actions?”
After a stubborn silence the girl said, “Yes, sir.”
“Good. What lesson will you take away from this?”
“Not to get caught if I want to study magic.”
He sighed. “All right, I won’t argue with you on that one. Make sure to keep up with your academic studies.”
“Can I come home, Daddy?”
It was Strahan’s turn to be silent for a few seconds. “Your winter holidays are coming up soon.”
“I want to come home now. I miss the Angels.”
“The Angels miss you too. You’re safer where you are right now. Your friend Kelsie’s mother contacted me about your going to London for Christmas with their family,” he said rushing on. “You’d enjoy that.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Think of all the old bookstores with arcane magical texts.”
The girl gave a loud sigh. “I can order that stuff online, Dad.”
“Christmas in London with your best friend,” he said. “Think about it.”
She muttered a grudging, “I will.”
“Good. I have to go now.”
“Ass-kicking in L.A.? Dee’s been keeping me up on the op. I could help.”
“I have to go now,” he repeated. “I love you. Go to bed.”
Tobias put away the phone and sat thoughtfully considering his daughter for a moment. It had been easier when she was little . . . but how was a Prime supposed to deal with a mortal teenager? Dee did her best to help and was the closest thing the girl had to a mother, but the ultimate responsibility was his.
How the hell did I ever get myself into this?
Oh, yeah, I walked away from a plane crash with an orphaned baby in my arms.
And now he was being blackmailed into purposefully siring a vampire child. Imagine how surprised Lady Anjelica and Flare were going to be when he insisted on helping to raise
his
child, even if the baby was a sacred, shielded daughter.
When he looked around he found Flare standing with her back to the kitchen, her tension palpable. He moved silently up behind her and found his hands massaging her knotted shoulders. She leaned into his touch and her head came back to rest on his shoulder. Tobias didn’t think she was aware of anything at the moment. Her reaction was as automatic as his had been. As she began to relax, Tobias found his concentration narrowing down to awareness of the pulse of her throat, so vulnerably exposed to his fangs.
An offer? A tease, more likely. This was Flare after all.
If he took her up on the temptation to taste her
and she rejected him outright, it would get in the way of the seduction she surely knew he had planned for later. No way was he letting her play him.
He made himself step away. She shivered and shook her head, as though coming awake, and spun to face him. “Where—? Oh, it’s you.”
He barely stopped himself from a sarcastic comment when he saw the unshed tears in her eyes. “What’s the matter with you, woman?” he demanded instead.
“None of your business, Strahan,” she shot back.
Animosity crackled between them, hot as lightning. The scent of her blood permeated his being. For a moment he could taste it, heady and life giving.
How could any Prime deny himself . . . ?
Tobias stepped back, putting his hands up before him. His claws were fully extended. Fangs throbbed in his mouth. He’d never been so close to losing control, and his response to Flare was as much a need for combat as it was a need for sex. He’d never reacted so strongly to a female before.
Her fangs and claws were as sharply evident as his. Fire glowed in her eyes.
The thrill of the hunt coursed through him.
And he didn’t like it.
It must be a trait of his Tribe ancestry, he thought. Tribe Primes mastered their females.
Even if they have to tie them down to do it
, he added ironically.
He wondered if there was anywhere he could get his hands on pure silver bondage equipment in Los Angeles.
She felt his amusement and demanded, “What’s so funny?”
“Me,” he answered.
Francesca knew what was happening between her and Strahan, but she didn’t think he did. His simple answer to her angry question helped calm her down. He was embarrassed as he got himself under control. That was a good sign.
She wrestled her body back into its mortal form as she struggled to remember how they’d come to be standing like a pair of horny gladiators ready to rip into each other. He’d been on the phone. She’d been trying to meditate. Then—he’d touched her. A simple touch.
But nothing was simple about what was happening to them. Or maybe bonding was the
simplest thing in the world. Struggling against it was the complicated part, but battle it she would.
Strahan couldn’t want it either, not with his obsessive need to fight the good fight leading his Dark Angels. A bondmate would only get in his way. Especially useless spoiled princess Flare.
“Wait a minute,” she said, remembering suddenly. “You wanted to talk to me about doing something.”
Before the world went weird
.
The flicker of amusement from him told her that Strahan picked up her thought and agreed with it.
“I can’t help it,” he said apologetically.
“I know. Maybe it’s the weather,” she added. “That raging storm outside must be messing up our electromagnetic signals.”
He glanced out the patio door at the clear night sky and nodded. “Yeah. All that thunder and lightning must be messing with our telepathy.”
She was pleased that he went along with her fiction.
He gestured, and she followed him back to the table. They sat across from each other, the width of the table offering some distance between them.
“What can I possibly do for the Dark Angels?” she asked before he could say anything. “You don’t want anything personal from me, I hope?”
His dark gaze roamed over her hungrily, but he said, “Nothing personal. You’ve heard of Rose Cameron.”
“Would that be the red-haired mortal who was with Tony Crowe at the Citadel? The one who reminds me of an old-time movie star?”