Consumed Page 9

  How long had it been since Kalin allowed him food? He shrugged. No matter. “Give him to Jack.”

  The vampire’s eyes widened in his thin face. Bruises still mottled his white skin from the beating the day before. “No.” Bruised knuckles grabbed at his chains, yanking away from Milton.

  “Yes.” Kalin took two steps, wrapping his hand around the vamp’s throat. “Catch, Jack.” He lifted the prisoner, throwing him one-handed across the clearing.

  The vamp landed with a hard thump, denting the dry earth.

  The animals leapt for a fresh kill.

  His high-pitched scream pierced the peaceful night. Growls and yelps mingled with cries of pain as the beasts ripped limbs from the body ... digging in with teeth sharp enough to score granite.

  Milton cleared his throat. “Do you really think they’ll be able to kill the vampire soldiers?”

  Kalin nodded. “Sure. They’ll kill a few. The Realm forces are weak ... seriously depleted from the last ten years of war. As depleted as our troops, and they don’t have werewolf soldiers fighting their front line like we do. Plus, I just need the vampires busy so I can finally kill Talen Kayrs.”

  The bastard had killed Kalin’s father a decade ago because of a woman. Kalin shook his head. “Such a waste. Two powerful men fighting over a female.” Rumor had it the female had given birth to Talen’s son a few years back. Kalin should take out the son, too.

  He focused on the feeding frenzy.

  Blood.

  The scent permeated the fresh air, elongating Kalin’s teeth. He inhaled deep. How the hell did the vamp have any blood left after all the beatings? Kalin’s stomach rumbled, hunger speeding his heart rate.

  Male blood didn’t appeal to his palate ... how long had it been since he’d hunted a woman? Too long. Most women didn’t provide much challenge, though a shifter he’d found in Atlanta had fought like a warrior. Now, she had been an enjoyable kill. “I might leave you in charge for some time tonight.”

  The skin around Milton’s mouth pinched. “Of course.” His voice held no inflection, yet disapproval had his chin lifting.

  Too fucking bad. While no doubt Franco had hoped Kalin would give up his nighttime hobby as he aged ... he hadn’t. There had been a moment a decade ago when he’d faced doorways into different futures; he’d chosen one. With a fresh kill of a human girl he’d actually liked. “If you tell my uncle, I’ll stake you to the ground an hour before sunrise.” There was no question Milton reported back to Franco. They were morons if they thought he remained unaware of such an allegiance.

  “Of course.” Milton frowned, his gaze on the pile of werewolves. “I would appreciate if you didn’t take my son with you this time.”

  Milton’s eighteen-year-old son had an even greater thirst to kill than Kalin. “Roy is a natural.” The kid needed training in the thrill of the hunt ... not just the easy kill. Where was the finesse in just killing a woman? The fear—the fight—the futility at the ending. Now those moments created a worthy pursuit.

  There was a time years ago when Kalin had studied death, philosophy, and fate. Anything to harness the urges that rode him so hard.

  After much time, he concluded his animalistic nature required the hunt. The pursuit of other beings. Well, women. And it didn’t take a psychologist to understand his anger at the mother who’d abandoned him in death. She’d deserted him on purpose because she couldn’t handle being a mate to his father.

  Most Kurjan mates didn’t last long.

  So Kalin’s need to hunt worthy women and take them down probably had some logic behind it. Not that he truly cared. The pursuit was what mattered.

  A pursuit worthy of a predator, not a lowly animal like the werewolves. Of course, the original goal of Virus-27 had had nothing to do with turning shifters into werewolves. The first stroke of the virus was to impact human vampire mates. Mates were special and far between. The new class of werewolves was an unexpected side benefit of the bug.

  Wait—what was this?

  Jack shoved away from the pack and rose to his full height, finishing swallowing the vampire’s cranium with a loud gulp. Blood stained his teeth, matting his fur a motley red. His eyes glowed an eerie jaundiced yellow in the waning light.

  Kalin settled his stance. “We’re going to need the electric prods.”

  As one, the devouring beasts stood, turning to face him, death in their eyes.

  All former shifters, all former soldiers, they could fight better than any other wild animal. But animals they were ... and they needed a master.

  A young Kurjan soldier hustled up, handing them both tweaked prods. The altered devices emitted enough electricity to shock a werewolf into unconsciousness. Kalin leaned on his, smiling when Jack eyed the weapon. “Don’t worry, my friend. You’ll kill soon. All you want.”

  Jack lifted his feral gaze to meet Kalin’s directly.

  He swept a large hairy hand out, a guttural snort coming from down deep. As one, the remaining werewolves stood down, heads bowed.

  Kalin eyed the monster. Very interesting. “I’m the master here, Jack.”

  The beast smiled.

  Chapter 9

  Standing next to Conn, Jordan rested a shoulder against the wall in the gym, slowly opening his right hand as the broken fingers mended. Nothing like a sparring session with a friend who had no problem taking your head off. His tennis shoes left deep imprints in the worn grappling mats as he tested his steadiness. He’d fought many times in a Kayrs gym ... though this was the first time they grappled aboveground in the main lodge. The ocean rolled lazily below, sending salt through the open windows.

  He allowed his mind to blank in order for several concussions to heal. The past flashed back with a vengeance. Three hundred years ago, after the Kurjan massacre, peace was impossible.

  Still in the new colonies, Jordan shoved the pain somewhere to be dealt with at another time. Sitting in a hastily built meeting room in the middle of thick trees and dark rocks, he glanced out the window at an unfamiliar world. With the death of his family, the world had changed.

  Conn sat across the rough-planked table, anger and sorrow cutting new lines into his face. “What do you want to do?” His deep voice echoed in the silent room as the rest of the leaders had taken a break outside.

  “I don’t know.” Jordan needed guidance. He needed his father. . . or Kyle Bomant, their former leader. Their deaths were fresh ... too fresh. “I just don’t know.”

  “You don’t have to do anything.” Conn leaned forward, ensuring their conversation didn’t reach through the holes serving as windows in the pine walls. “Dage said your cousin will arrive later today and is considering allying with the Kurjans. What do you know about him?”

  Jordan shook his head. “He’s an asshole. Beat the crap out of a girl last year because she didn’t respond to him. I can see him backing the Kurjans, considering they just took out half the Realm.” Over three hundred years older than Jordan, the other shifter had never grown up.

  Conn paled. “If you align with the Kurjans, that makes us ...”

  “Enemies.” Jordan met his friend’s gaze squarely. “Not only that, both our forces will be depleted and we’re at war. Nobody knows if the demons will jump in and if so, which side they’ll take.”

  “Not to mention the damn witches.” Conn exhaled, the sound full of anguish. “I’ve never understood those crazy magic users and hope to God I never have to deal with a witch. Though Dage secured the canine and multi nations as allies, and they’re sending troops to fight.”

  “That’s good.” Well, that was good if Jordan’s people remained allies with the Realm. Otherwise, the wolves would be chasing him. His mind spun, and his gut ached as reality settled hard. “Since Dage has relocated Realm Headquarters to these mountains in the new world, we have the opportunity to take care of business quietly and without a formal challenge to Brent.”

  Conn lifted his chin, a veil dropping over his eyes. “Are you ready to challenge your cousin
for leadership?”

  “Yes.” The word weighed heavily in the room, and even more solidly in Jordan’s stomach. The choice might be out of his hands. His people were too scattered and scared for anyone else to step up, with the exception of Noah Chance. But Noah was a fighter, one of the best, and they needed him on the front line now more than ever. “I want to meet with Brent first and make sure he’s unwilling to align with Dage.”

  No expression crossed Conn’s broad face. “You’re a good fighter.”

  “Thanks.” Jordan allowed acceptance of the unspoken words to filter down his back. “But Brent is three hundred years older, is more experienced, and has fought before.” Fear at the decision he was considering made Jordan’s head pound. “I’ve never killed anyone.”

  “Me, either.” Emotion broke through the false calmness on Conn’s face. “I think that’s about to change.”

  Two weeks ago Jordan’s biggest decision had been what woman to woo. The world wasn’t the only thing that had changed ... he and Conn were next. Destiny slammed him right in the face. “If Brent turns against the Realm, there’s really no choice.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Jordan studied his friend. Conn knew exactly what Jordan was saying, but sometimes the words had to be spoken. “If necessary, I’ll challenge him. If I lose ... I need you to ...”

  “Kill him.” Conn’s lids lowered to half mast, and suddenly, he looked like a killer. An unwilling, truly unhappy killer, but a killer nonetheless.

  Spikes poked the back of Jordan’s eyes. The last thing he ever wanted to do was turn his best friend into a cold-blooded killer. “If there was anybody else to ask ...”

  “I’m just meeting my destiny faster than I’d hoped.” Inevitability echoed in Conn’s low tone. “From day one of my life, I knew I’d be the soldier in my family. The fighter and the one on the front lines. I just didn’t think fate would come calling this soon.”

  Fate had arrived for them both. Jordan extended his hand across the table. “This goes against everything we’ve been taught, and everything we believe in.”

  “War leaves us no choice.” Conn took his hand in a strong grasp. “If we do this, Dage can never know. He has enough on his shoulders with the family and now with the Realm. He shouldn’t live with this.”

  “No. This is ours.” Jordan released Conn and stood. “Let’s go issue the challenge. May God have mercy on us someday.”

  Conn shook his head and stood. “What we do, we do because we have to. Mercy has no place—and neither does God.”

  The words sent shards of pure ice down Jordan’s spine. Not because they were dismal ... but because they were the absolute truth. The world had changed, indeed.

  Back in the present, Jordan opened his eyes in the large gym, his concussions healed.

  “You’re stronger.” Conn popped his neck, grimacing as the vertebrae probably snapped back into place.

  “I know.” Every day since being infected, his vision had sharpened, his hearing clarified, and his strength increased. As had the need to fight and kill. “I’ve been craving raw meat like you wouldn’t believe.”

  Conn lifted a bloody eyebrow. “Ewww.”

  “You drink blood, asshole.” Damn vampires didn’t know how gross that really was. “Ah, Brent Bomant is alive.”

  Conn stilled. The air vibrated. “No, he’s not.”

  “Yes. Apparently I left a tendon attached. And now he’s a werewolf. One with intelligence and the ability to speak.”

  “Speak? A werewolf communicated?”

  “Oh yeah. Spoke clearly and remembered his life before turning into a werewolf. Worse yet, he remembered me ... and what I did.”

  “Unbelievable.” Conn scraped both hands down his face. “We did the right thing, Jordan.”

  “Did we?” Jordan whispered. “I’ve always wondered.” Was it ambition that had him killing his own family? His own blood. “If we did the right thing, you would’ve cleared the plan with Dage instead of never saying a word.”

  “We did our jobs ... and part of my job was protecting my king, regardless of his being my brother.” Conn gave a low growl. “You and I buried this issue three centuries ago. Too late to worry about our decisions now.”

  Was it? The nape of Jordan’s neck began to tingle. “I can’t figure out who would be working with Brent. Who’d be taking pictures of Katie to give to him.” The whole idea infuriated Jordan to the point he could barely see.

  Conn shook his head. “Most werewolves feel the need to kill humans. Well, to kill everyone. If Brent has progressed to where he can refrain from killing and actually work with a human, he’s even more dangerous than I would’ve thought.”

  “That’s an understatement.” Jordan couldn’t talk about the past anymore. “Where’s your mate, anyway?”

  “Moira is in Ireland meeting with the Council of the Coven Nine.” Conn rolled his neck. “The council has some sources in the demon nation that say there’s an internal war going on. We’re trying to find out if it’s true, and if so, what to do about it. Who to align with.”

  The council ruled the witches and aligned with the Realm. If anybody had spies in the demon nation, it’d be the witches. Though, starting ten years ago, certain shifting clans had begun to work with the demons, so Jordan’s informants might be of some help, too. “I have several feelers out right now for information regarding the demons. They’re centralizing their power bases in Scotland and somewhere in the southern part of the United States.” Which meant they’d be hitting Realm forces sometime soon.

  Conn nodded. “Between war with the Kurjans the last ten years, and your people’s problems with the virus killing so many, our troops are depleted.” He huffed out a laugh. “Thank God the witches have remained our allies.”

  “Speaking of witches, when will yours be home?” The little witch always made things interesting, and watching her run Conn in circles would lighten Jordan’s mood.

  “Next week,” the vampire growled, frowning. He rubbed his short hair. “I still owe her for the buzz cut.”

  Jordan fought a smile. “You’re lucky she didn’t singe your eyebrows, too.”

  “She’s lucky she didn’t.” Conn grinned, shaking his head. “She got me good this time. I’m trying to figure out a decent payback, but all I can think about is getting her home safely.”

  The moon began to rise, snapping electricity along Jordan’s skin. Ever since he’d been infected, he’d been in tune with the moon. He shook off the unease. “Having your woman fighting ... the reality is hard, isn’t it?”

  “Oh yeah. I’d love to lock Moira up in some fortress”—Conn snorted—“but she’d just blow the place to pieces on her way out.” All five fingers on his left hand popped as he stretched them out to heal. “She’s a fighter, and I like that about her, but it’s a lot easier when I’m fighting next to her.”

  “I get that.” His friend would probably head to Ireland after the full moon—after Jordan would need to be put down. “The moon is up—I need to go outside.” He hated it. But rabid ants crawled under his skin until he leapt into moonlight when the orb appeared after dusk. The pull rivaled gravity.

  A door slammed open in the hallway, and Katie rushed inside, her hair a wild mass around her slim shoulders. “Jordan—”

  “I know.” He strode toward the door and grasped her arm. “We need to go outside.” He hadn’t realized how difficult the last decade must’ve been for her—craving the moon every night. The demand was like having an addiction with no treatment possibilities.

  “No.” She tugged away. “Emma found a cure.” Strong fingers dug into his arm, yanking him into the hallway. “She used Maggie’s blood combined with yours since getting infected combined with a spell created by Moira before she left for Ireland.” Katie’s voice rose in excitement as she dragged him up a flight of stairs toward the labs. “Emma won’t use the concoction on me because the cure hasn’t been tested. But you’re out of time.”

  Mo
ira was one of the most powerful witches alive. If anyone could alter the subatomic particles of a liquid cure, it’d be Moira.

  Jordan allowed Katie to tug him into the main lab where they almost ran over Kane Kayrs.

  He lifted an eyebrow, his metallic violet eyes serious. Dressed in black slacks and silk shirt, the smartest vampire on the planet always looked like he should be vacationing in Rome instead of spending hours after hours in a lab working with the queen. Well, when he wasn’t catching werewolves for sport. “Good news travels fast.”

  Hope. For the first time since the confirmation of Jordan’s being infected, hope battled through his despair. “Is there good news?”

  Katie hopped in excitement next to him, her boots squeaking on the spotless tiles. She reached down to grip his hand. He leaned a hip against one of the three examination tables, trying to stay calm. Trying not to get too excited about the possibility.

  Emma turned from peering through a microscope. “Maybe.” She glanced at Katie, concern furrowing her brow. “We managed to attack a sample of Virus-27 in a petri dish ... not exactly the same environment as a living body.”

  “But the cure worked?” Katie breathed, her grip tightening.

  “Yes. The mixture binds itself around the virus ... keeping the bug from reproducing.”

  Katie smiled. “So the virus will stop attacking Jordan’s chromosomes and he won’t turn into a werewolf.”

  “Theoretically.” Kane reached for a syringe off the wide granite counter. “I prepared an injection for you earlier, Jordan. Just in case.” The scientist stalked toward them, somehow menacing even in the comfortable lab.

  Jordan held out his arm. With the luck he’d been having lately, the cure would turn him into a monkey. “How soon should we know?”

  “With the new equipment, in a couple hours.” Kane jabbed the needle in his vein.

  Lava poured through Jordan’s veins. Hot and angry, the liquid bubbled along with his blood. “Holy shit. What the hell is that?”

  Emma pursed her lips. “A whole lot of stuff, including magic.” Then she frowned at the long row of equipment lining the counter. “In fact, several of our concoctions could be applied to cure human diseases.”