Rogue (Sons of Sangue Book 4) (32 page)

He covered her fingers with his hand. “Kimber? Don’t start something you aren’t prepared to finish. It’s been too damn long. If you continue, make no mistake, I will fuck you.”

“Such language.”

“More like a promise”

A smile crept up her cheeks. “You aren’t getting off scot-free. No matter what happens between us this morning, you still owe me the truth.”

“And you’ll get it.”

“Then stop talking.” She pushed the wet material down his hips and his cock sprung free. Her hand encompassed him, sliding from the crown to the base and back.

“Fuck,” he hissed. He might just die from the sheer pleasure.

Her cute little pink tongue wet her lips. “Oh, I intend to.”

He chuckled. “I was hoping you would.”

A wicked twinkle filled her gaze. “Right now, I plan to show you how happy I am to have you back home. Tomorrow, though, we’ll talk.”

Her gaze dropped to her hand and his cock, just seconds before she sank to her knees. He couldn’t stop her if he wanted. Who was he fooling? He was dying to see her lips wrapping his erection, dying to feel her take him into his mouth. One of her hands slipped to the cheeks of his ass. Her tongue darted out and captured the drop of precum on the mushroom tip.

Anton sucked in air just before Kimber took him fully into her mouth, damn near swallowing the entire length. Fighting back the urge to go vampire, he kept his gaze on her lush red lips surrounding him, her tongue licking the rigid vein beneath. Ah hell, he couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

His gaze heated. His gums ached.

Anton bit back a string of curses, pulling her from his erection and ignoring her protests. He pulled up his pants and picked her up, heading for the stairs. “Sorry,
tesoro
. I want to be inside you when I come. No more waiting.”

Kimber wrapped her arms about his neck and snuggled against his chest. Seconds later, he tossed her upon the bed and divested her of her clothes. An angel spread before him. Her hair fanned out across the pillow case. Hell no, he didn’t deserve her, but he was damn glad to have her. He shucked his pants and joined her on the bed. The mattress dipped from his two-hundred-fifty pounds. Just before he slid inside, before his fangs punched through his gums, he framed her face within his palms and reluctantly hypnotized her.

Her gasp as he slid his cock between her legs and sank into her was the balm he needed for his soul, the music his ears had been missing. Even if she left him, he’d never forget the sound or the feel of being buried to the hilt in her.

Home.

Anton had come home.

* * *

Vlad’s senses kicked up, telling him he was getting closer to his brother. Mircea, the fool, thought he was an equal to Vlad, just as powerful in every way. Fat chance. Vlad could take his life with little effort. Mircea might be older in age, but he was younger in vampire years. No matter how much his big brother might wish it, he couldn’t begin to best Vlad.

Mircea had issued him a challenge when he had called out Vlad.
As if he had a chance in hell at winning.
The one thing Mircea had accomplished with his phone call was pissing off the vampire in him. And he was furious.

Mircea tried to use Stefan to send him on a wild goose chase. Stefan meant nothing to Mircea, other than another annoying descendant of Vlad’s. No, his true target would be Kane. Kane had been the one to take what Mircea considered his, not to mention he blamed him for Rosalee’s death. He might think to hurt Kane through his mate, to see him suffer, but his real issue had always been with Vlad’s eldest descendant.

Arriving behind Kane’s house, Vlad masked his scent with the coming storm, something Mircea had never bothered to learn. His brother much preferred instilling fear in other vampires, letting them know he was near. In truth, Mircea had gone soft, lazing about his stone fortress back in Italy, never really having a reason to leave. He preferred to be doted upon by his servants.

Mircea may have loved Rosalee, but his bitch of a stepdaughter never respected him. Had she listened to her maker, she might still have her head. Her obsession with Kane had gotten her killed.

Mircea stood a few hundred feet from him, watching the house. He squatted beneath a pine, his back against the bark, having no idea Vlad stood so close. Mircea was probably biding his time. If he didn’t catch Kane unaware, Vlad would bank on his great grandson taking Mircea in a fight. Which meant his brother would want to take Kane after his mate left the house. Mircea would always take the path of least resistance.

“Brother.”

Mircea damn near jumped out of his skin at the sound of Vlad’s voice.

Vlad could have easily taken his head, ended his miserable existence, but his damn sentimental side in hoping his brother could yet be redeemed kept him from doing so. Mircea was, after all, his last living sibling.

Mircea turned on him, quickly schooling his expression. “I thought you’d be guarding Kaleb’s baby. Foolish to leave him alone.”

“Even more so to leave my eldest grandson unprotected.” He arched one brow. The wind picked up, whipping his long black hair across his face. “You’re a fool if you thought for a second I’d follow your shell game.”

An evil smile crossed his lips. “So you now… What? Take my head?”

“Foolish as I may be, I had hoped I’d talk some sense into you.”

“And what, dear brother, would you like from me?”

Vlad reached out, lightning quick, and gripped his brother by the throat, squeezing his windpipe. His hyoid bone snapped beneath the pressure. Good thing for his brother’s vampire DNA. He’d heal soon enough.

“The States have nothing for you. Return to Italy.”

“And do what?” Mircea wheezed. “You’ve taken my reason for returning.”

“Rosalee was never to be yours. You were a fool to think so.” Vlad tightened his grip, earning him a squeal from Mircea. “Find another reason. Quit sitting on your ass and find a new plaything.”

“Why would I do that?” he croaked.

“To keep me from killing you, you ass. Threaten what’s mine and I’ll see you don’t live to sire another descendant. I’m giving you a chance to carry on your lineage.”

He released his hold and Mircea stumbled back. His hand went to his throat. “Why not end me now? Obviously, I came here to kill your beloved Kane.”

Vlad clenched his teeth, biting back his anger. His fury would do him no good. “I don’t doubt why you’re here. But I do doubt your skill. You’ll never get close enough to my grandson. I won’t allow it. And even if you managed to get by me, you underestimate Kane’s strength and skill. I’m offering you a last chance. Take it and live.”

Mircea glanced at the back of the house. He rolled his neck, his hyoid bone probably already healing. “Even if I do as you ask, I’ll return one day to kill him. You know that as sure as I’m standing here.”

Vlad sighed. “And that is the day I will kill you.”

With a wink, Mircea turned and sped through the forest, his answering cackle taunting him every step of the way. Why the hell he allowed Mircea to live, he didn’t know. Vlad was sure he’d one day live to regret his decision. Glancing back at his great grandson’s house, he knew for now they’d be safe. Tomorrow would be a new day. If he couldn’t convince Mircea to return to Italy, then his broken hyoid bone would be the least of his brother’s worries.

* * *

Anton strode into the clubhouse meeting room, the estranged year draining away. A feeling of peace and serenity washed over him as his gaze took in his brothers sitting around the big table. Contentment filled him now that the gig was almost up. He may not have completed the entire mission, but he hoped what he had to give would be enough.

Kaleb sat at the head of the table, Kane by his side. Cara leaned against the back wall beside Tamera, who sat on a bar stool, while Grayson sat opposite of Kane. Ryder, Grigore, and Alexander were also in attendance, their expressions unlike the last time he had seen them.

Anton had come home.

Pulling out a chair, the legs scraping the wooden floor, Anton took a seat. He laid his large hands atop the table and smiled. Damn, it had been too long since he last sat at the oak table. Too fucking long, if you asked him. He was ready to end this case once and for all, and get his life back.

Cara tucked her phone into her back pocket and leaned forward, bracing her hands on the table and glared at him. “How the hell did you fuck this up so badly, Blondy?”

“Are you fucking serious?” Anton growled. “Go to hell, Cara.”

Kane cleared his throat. “Don’t make me hand you your ass, Blondy.”

“Sorry, Cara. No disrespect meant.” Anton rubbed his nape. He might not be happy with her at the moment, but that didn’t mean he didn’t regard her position. “But you can’t lay this on my doorstep. You sent Tamera to Santa Barbara without checking with me. She couldn’t get a hold of Viper.”

“Not my fault, man.” Kane growled. “My cell’s reception was crappy. I was near enough, but Tamera wouldn’t have known that.”

“No, she didn’t.” Anton returned his attention to Cara. “As soon as Tamera called I headed south, even though I knew it would piss off Tank.”

Cara lips thinned. “You did, but the plan was for you to be there.”

“Tank ordered me to Florence.” Anton’s ire rose, heating his vision. “You know I had to follow his order.”

“You should’ve called me.”

Which is where Anton went wrong. He should have found time. “We went over this. I was with Preacher.”

Cara righted herself, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. “Tamera told me no one was talking about who took out Kinky?”

“Correct. Tank told me yesterday they had nothing to do with it.” He glanced around the table at his MC brothers. Some of the members looked at him with indifference, while others seemed to sympathize with his position. “He told me it went deeper than club rivalries. That if I wanted to keep Tamera alive, I should make sure she drops it.”

“
It
meaning who killed Kinky?” Kaleb sat forward in his chair. “You think Tank knows who ordered the hit?”

Anton nodded. “My gut tells me he knows.”

“You think he’ll talk?” Grayson asked.

“Not a chance in hell. I’m not exactly on his good side at the moment.”

“And why would that be?” Kaleb stood and walked to the door, telling one of the prospects to bring them whiskey and glasses. When he returned, displeasure filled his gaze. Aimed at him or the whole situation, Anton wasn’t sure. “One year and you couldn’t manage to earn his trust?”

Anton shook his head and chuckled, the humor misplaced on him. “Oh, I had his respect all right. Right up until I handed his VP an ass beating before I left. I don’t think Tamera playing nosy reporter helped my case any.”

“Agreed,” Tamera said. “I probably didn’t. This isn’t Blondy’s fault.”

Tamera had been there, seen the Devils at their finest. They were a crude bunch of law-breaking bikers who held little regard for human life.

Anton glanced back at Cara. “There’s a shipment of heroin coming in tomorrow along the Siuslaw River. Tank’s supposed to call me with the details. Preacher and I are to accompany Draven to the pickup point. I’ll pass along the details to you as I get them. You can call in the DEA. After that I’m done. I suggest you get Draven the hell out as well. Without me, he won’t be safe. The Devils may have respected me at one time, but they’ve never held Draven in high regard. He means nothing more to them than someone to move their drugs. Which is why Preacher and I have been ordered to accompany him.”

Cara pulled out a chair at the table and sat, ignoring the rule about women not being allowed to sit at the meeting table. After all, she had called the meeting. “We haven’t caught Raúl Trevino Caballero. That was part of the deal.”

“It was, but you won’t catch him through this case.” Anton shifted in his seat. “After a year of being under, I’m no closer than when I started. I’ll help you get your revenge on Raúl, just as everyone here will no doubt assist you and Kane. But it isn’t going to happen with the Devils. I have enough evidence to take down most of them. It’s going to have to be enough.”

Cara looked at Kane. “It’s okay,
mia bella
. We’ll wait for another day.”

Giving her attention back to Anton, she said, “You give us the location where the heroin is landing tomorrow and I’ll turn it over to Captain Melchor and the DEA. Then we walk away. I can’t say I’ll be sad to see Robbie go.”

“What about Preacher?” Anton had to know his friend would walk too.

“What about him?”

“You keep him out of this, Cara. The man doesn’t deserve to go down with the rest of the Devils. He’s one of the good guys.”

“You get me the information. We’ll come up with a plan to get Preacher out of there before the DEA gets there.”

“You think he’s Sons material, Blondy?” Kaleb asked.

“I do.” Anton leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his chest. “Not sure what he’d think about becoming a vampire, though.”

“Your call, Blondy.” Kaleb glanced around at the Sons ringing the table. “If you think he’s worthy, we could use another good man. You bring him to the table, the Sons will vote on patching him over.”