Allegiance (The Penton Vampire Legacy) (10 page)

Damn, but he was strong. She wondered what it would feel like if he punctured her finger. She relaxed the muscles in her arm.
Do it, vampire.

“Stop that, you two. Seriously.” Nik gave her another dirty look and held out his hand to Cage. “Let’s see what I can pull from your past—although I have to tell you I don’t hold hands with just anyone on the first date.”

“And there won’t be a second, mate. I think we both play for the other team.” He slid his gaze to Robin and gave her a slow smile, sans fang, before grasping Nik’s hand.

Nik closed his eyes and lowered his head, concentrating. Good sign. Robin had never seen him strain to capture the images; they either came or they didn’t.

“Are you trying to block me?” Nik dropped Cage’s hand and looked at him with such relief that it made Robin want to dance.

Cage shook his head. “Negative. And believe me, I’ve had at least sixty years of deplorable behavior you could be enjoying vicariously right now.”

“Oh, thank God. I was praying for this.” Nik took a deep breath and released it. “To go way back to your question before Robin hijacked the conversation, I took this assignment hoping I couldn’t get images off vampires. You’re an even bigger blank than shifters. It’s just . . . peaceful.”

“Maybe you can find a nice vampire girl. Do vampire girls have sex with human boys?” Robin opened the car door and took in a lungful of clean night air. She sure didn’t miss the pollution of the city or the scent of exhaust fumes. It smelled like an open bottle of pine cleaner out here, only fresher, without the chemicals.

Cage and Nik followed her out, and Nik went to the hatch to retrieve his duffel bag.

Robin stood with her eyes closed, taking in the feel of the cool air, the scents, the chirping of crickets and frogs.

“Do shifter girls have sex with vampire boys, little bird?”

She jolted back to awareness at the feeling of Cage standing close behind her, speaking so softly she doubted Nik could hear. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, tingling her fingertips and scalp, and her heart took off at a gallop. The heat from his body seeped into her back through her thin top. Why had she assumed vampires would have cold skin? Too many bad movies.

“What’s between you and Nik anyway?” Again that soft voice. He wasn’t touching her anywhere, but he was close, so very close.

“He’s my best friend.” Robin swallowed hard, stepped away from Cage, and turned to face him.

“And she’s one of mine, even if she does have a big mouth, the manners of a guttersnipe, and an utter lack of willingness to observe social niceties. So don’t even think about hurting her.” Nik handed her a white plastic bag and hefted his duffel over his shoulder. “I picked up some clothes for you when I stopped for lunch in Mobile. They might not fit, but I wasn’t sure you’d be able to find anything here. They’ll last a day or two.”

Robin laughed. “I was going to see if I could borrow something from—what’s her name, Hannah?”

“Oh, that would be interesting.” Cage crossed his arms over his chest. “Hannah’s style is, well, let’s say it lies somewhere between Hello Kitty and Sesame Street.”

Nik made a grab for the bag. “Give me back the clothes. I want to see you in something fuzzy and pink.”

“Forget it.” Robin tucked the bag under her arm and started toward the house. “Who all is going to be living here with us?”

Cage and Nik followed her up the sidewalk and onto the porch, and Cage knocked on the front door. “Among others, your favorite sparring partner.”

The door opened and almost seven feet of vampire blocked the light from inside. “Well, if it isn’t Zorba and the little lost girl. What’s your sorority name—I Ate-a Pie?”

Robin opened her mouth to respond, but shut it when Nik rested a hand on the back of her neck and tickled her. “Not fair,” she mumbled. How could you get a good temper brewing if someone was tickling you?

It might not happen now, but soon, someone needed to knock down that big oaf Mirren Kincaid—again. And she knew just the sorority girl to do it.

  
CHAPTER 9
 

F
rank Greisser arrived at the hotel in Innsbruck five minutes before midnight, the collar of his long black raincoat pulled up to ward off the cold drizzle, a black hat hiding the blond curls that made him look more like a thirtysomething playboy than the most powerful man in the vast world of vampire politics.

“Close the door before someone sees us.” He strode in as if he owned the place—which for all Matthias knew, he might—and tossed the hat on the dark-green duvet folded across the foot of the narrow bed. “I trust your accommodations are sufficient?”

Matthias looked around the small, simply appointed room. The view of the Alps out the window during daylight hours was likely spectacular, but he’d never be able to see it. So the hotel room’s greatest asset was the owner’s willingness to cover that alpine view with a dark blackout curtain and make the south wing of the hotel inaccessible during daylight hours. It was a service for which Frank no doubt paid a premium.

“I would prefer to be at home, in New York or Virginia.” Matthias poured a brandy for himself and the man who’d saved him—although Matthias, too, had paid a premium. He’d be allowed to live as long as he followed the orders of the officious Austrian, remained isolated, and kept the information flowing. Frank had told him one misstep and no matter where Matthias went, he’d be found. Once found, he’d wish in vain for a merciful execution.

Matthias did not doubt him. He’d met only two men by whom he was truly intimidated. Mirren Kincaid was one, and the other sat across the room from him now, polishing a scuff off his expensive Italian leather shoes.

“All things considered, I’m quite comfortable in these rooms.
Danke
.” Matthias raised his glass in salute.

“
Bitte
.” Frank settled into the chair nearest the covered window and sipped his brandy. “I thought you would enjoy an update from your friends in Penton. I’m sorry to say there has been a most unfortunate accident.”

The rush of anticipation heated Matthias’s nerve endings more than the brandy. He tried not to sound too eager. “Is it too much to hope one of the Penton Five is no longer among us?”

Aidan Murphy. Mirren Kincaid. Cage Reynolds. Gloriana Cummings. Melissa Calvert. They needed to die. And Matthias’s own son, William, was number six, the one who needed to suffer most. He’d been promised the opportunity to deal with his rebellious, traitorous son himself, in whatever manner he chose, as soon as the others were dead. He anticipated years of breaking the boy, again and again.

“Sadly, no. Not yet, anyway. But the stupid human soldier who helped lead the charge against us this summer is dead,” Frank said. “I’m told morale is low, and many of those who moved back into town are again considering defection.”

“Let me go after them personally.” Matthias rose and paced the length of the room. “Give me three or four good fighters, and we can take them out. After all, after today they’ll think I’m dead. Their guard will be down.”

Frank gave him an assessing look, but ultimately shook his head. “It’s too risky. One of the guards who arranged for your escape has disappeared. We’re looking for him, but there’s no way to guarantee his silence until we find him. Hunger drives even vampires to make strange alliances, yes?”

Matthias hated inaction. “So we just arrange for a run of bad luck and hope we manage to take out Murphy? If he’s gone, the others will crumble, but it’s a slow tactic, especially with him having the votes to ascend to the Tribunal next week.”

Matthias bristled at the notion that Murphy, no more than a brawling Irish farm boy, would be seated at the Tribunal meeting table while he, one of the vampire elite, was a fugitive.

Frank got up and poured himself another brandy. “It’s not that simple. You forget Mirren Kincaid. The others will follow Kincaid if something happens to Murphy. They all have to be taken out—but especially those two.”

Matthias laughed. “They’d follow if Kincaid would lead, but he won’t. It’s not in his nature. The only other person in Penton capable of taking over if something happened to Murphy was Cage Reynolds, and that sorry backstabbing sonofabitch went back to London.” He’d also like being the one to kill Reynolds. Slowly.

“Not any more. He returned to Penton last evening.” Frank smiled at Matthias’s look of astonishment. “Murphy asked and he didn’t hesitate, or that’s the word in London. Edward Simmons released him from his bond.”

“More reason to let me go after them. After all, it keeps your hands clean.”

“I said no.” Frank’s tone turned sharp. “You’re where I need you. I have help on the inside, and our plan will work. You have the unfortunate American trait of impatience. Your way led to failure. Mine will take longer, but it will succeed.”

Greisser had managed to place someone inside Murphy’s organization? “Who is your plant? What is the plan?”

Pulling out a sheet of paper from his coat pocket, Frank rose and handed it to Matthias. “The plan is my concern. Yours is to tell me the strengths and weaknesses of everyone on that list.”

Matthias scanned the short column of names. Most of them he recognized from his own research into Penton.

“Fine.” He returned to his seat. “Where do you want me to start?”

Frank sipped his brandy and smiled. “Start with your friend Cage Reynolds.”

  
CHAPTER 10
  

C
age followed Robin and Nik into the big common room of the community house the new Pentonites would be sharing with Mirren, Glory, and Melissa, at least for now.

The idea of seeing Melissa filled him with guilt. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d spent the whole ride back from the job site acting like a sex-starved horndog with the fierce little shape-shifter, not thinking about their lost team member, or about how he might help Max cope with losing his best friend, or about the woman he wanted to let down gently and keep as a friend.

Cage suspected he wouldn’t recognize friendship if it bit him on his horny arse.

The scent of vanilla candles made the big, warm room of the comm-house soothing, even relaxing. The sweetness blended with the pungent scent of new wood and the rich, velvety aroma of overstuffed leather furniture. This felt like a home, or what Cage imagined a real home might be like. A fire burned low in the stone fireplace, its flames crackling enough to add ambience without making the room too hot, casting soothing shadows on the arched tray ceiling. A crimson rug stretched across the bamboo floor.

Who’d ever have imagined that the Slayer, once the Tribunal’s most feared executioner, would end up with the most domestic setup in Penton?

Must be the result of having two women in the house who both had an interest in nesting. Cage hadn’t seen the insides of Aidan’s or Will’s houses yet, but neither Krys nor Randa struck him as domestic types. Although he’d lay odds that their community houses looked a hell of a lot better than the spartan digs he and Fen had moved into last night, where Max and Hannah lived. If GI Joe moved in with Barbie, their place would resemble the Max and Hannah house, all camo and pink. Unsettling, that.

He’d planned to spend tonight making sure Fen wasn’t up to anything more than he claimed, but nothing about this evening had gone as planned. He’d halfway expected to find Fen here, sucking up to Mirren for a permanent spot in the scathe—but Aidan was here instead, standing in the doorway with an expression that hovered somewhere between shell-shocked and furious.

No sign of Fen, though, nor of Melissa. And Aidan’s look meant trouble. He was the most even-tempered man Cage had ever met, but when he finally lost it, everyone had better get out of the line of fire. He was as close to losing it as Cage had seen since the worst days of the Omega siege.

Krys spoke. “Mel went to see Mark, if that’s who you’re looking for, Cage.” Cage looked behind him, to where she had curled up in one of the corner armchairs with a glass of wine. Thank God vampires could still drink, although it would take an enormous volume to create any kind of real buzz. Maybe he’d start an experiment to find out.

He sank into the buttery leather seat of the adjacent sofa and poured himself some wine from the bottle on the end table. He looked at his half-filled wine glass for a second, then finished filling it up to the top.

Melissa had rushed to see Mark; he wondered how much, or little, to read into it. “That’s understandable. She’d want to reassure herself that he was going to recover.”

“I think the two of you need to talk.” Krys’s expression was unreadable, but Cage recognized a knowing comment when he heard one.

“That we do.” He sipped his wine, looked at the bottle, and topped off his glass. “Nice vintage. You weren’t happy to see me return, I imagine.”

Krys’s dark-brown eyes were somber. “I don’t think you and Mel are right for each other, but you’re wrong about the rest. I was really glad to hear you were coming back to Penton. We need you. Especially . . .” She trailed off and looked at Aidan with worry etched into every feature.

An adrenaline spike sent a rush of heat through Cage’s limbs, and he sat forward and put down his glass. “What else has happened?” Had he missed something while his brain had been preoccupied with the feisty little shifter? “What is it? Did Aidan talk to the colonel?”

Krys locked gazes with Aidan and gave a slow nod in response to some unspoken communication between them. Aidan was a strong master vampire—the strongest Cage had ever encountered—so he and Krys, as his bond-mate, probably had the ability to communicate telepathically. Which was damned inconvenient for everyone else.

Krys set down her glass and uncurled herself from the chair. “Time for me to go. Glory and I will be across the street with Melissa; Mark’s asleep for the night, I hope. Aidan wants to meet with the lieutenants and Omega Force team, and we’re not invited.” She looked up as Glory returned with Nik and Robin, talking nonstop about the high points of the kitchen. “Speaking of which, what do you think of the new people?”

“I like them,” Cage said without hesitation. He’d been surprised at how much he did like them and how quickly they’d won him over. He didn’t usually trust easily, but Nik, especially, had impressed him. So had Robin, but he wasn’t sure which part of his anatomy was more intrigued with the shifter, and one head’s opinion didn’t count as much as the other’s. “Nik’s kind of reserved, but comes across as very competent and serious and in control. Robin’s . . .” Sexy as hell. Scarier than Satan himself. “Robin’s interesting.”

“I didn’t know shape-shifters existed. Of course, a year ago I didn’t know vampires existed, and now, I am one.” Krys’s laughter sounded forced. “Robin seems, I don’t know, kind of confrontational.”

Cage followed Krys’s gaze to the kitchen doorway, where Robin stared up at Mirren with her fists propped on her hips and daggers shooting from her eyes. “You have no idea.”

Her tour-guide duty done, Glory sat next to Cage and wrapped her arms around him, and he kissed her cheek. She had filled out again after getting sick in Omega, and it was a good look for her with her strong Native American features. She had a wide sweet streak and was genuinely kind. Glory Cummings was way too good for Mirren—but fortunately, the big guy knew it.

Only now, she looked worried, too. “I’m glad you’re home, Cage. Mirren was afraid you’d stay in London, and he wanted you back here. We all did.”

Her words lit a warm fire in Cage’s chest. When was the last time so many people had been happy to see him, the eternal loner both by choice and by occupation? That would be never. Still, one thing about Glory’s statement didn’t ring true, so he raised an eyebrow. “Let me get some clarification here. Mirren said those actual words? He said, ‘I miss Cage and want him to come home’?”

Glory looked over at her preoccupied mate in the next room and grinned. He was now mimicking Robin, standing with his hands stuck on his hips, scowling down at the shifter with his should-be-patented Slayer expression. “Well, not those exact words, but I knew what he meant.” She shook her head. “Those two are going to be entertaining. I don’t think Robin knows what she’s up against.”

Yeah, well, Cage had felt that way earlier. Now, he had a feeling Mirren might have met his match. “I’m giving them even odds. It could go either way.”

Glory patted his knee before standing up. “Krys, you ready to leave and let the big dogs make their plans?”

“Guess so.” Krys stood up and turned back to Cage. “By the way, I had a talk with your friend Fen Patrick earlier tonight. He was exploring the old cotton mill. Seems like a nice guy if you don’t mind the cheese factor. He’s trying awfully hard to be charming.”

Cage had worked with Fen. He’d lived alongside him in close quarters. He’d seen the ugly side of the man, and Fen had seen Cage’s ugliness in return. They were both capable of brutality, both got a rush from danger, both were wandering souls. But friends? “I’d call us acquaintances. I didn’t even know he’d been turned vampire until last night. Hadn’t seen him in more than a decade, and suddenly there he is, on the side of the highway. He’s trying hard to win everyone over here, but he needs to prove himself.”

“Exactly what Aidan said.” Krys looked at her mate and nodded. “Fen told me he was turned about five years ago. I can fill you in later or he can tell you himself, but Aidan’s giving me the look. We’ve gotta go.”

As Krys and Glory headed out the front door, Aidan and Mirren joined Cage in the common area near the fireplace. Nik and Robin remained in the doorway to the kitchen as if unsure whether to join in. Cage was surprised that Robin had the self-restraint to wait and see if they were invited to this party—until she elbowed Nik in the ribs. When they moved apart, Cage saw that Nik had a firm grip on the back of her shirt collar, holding her in place.

Brave man, Nik.

“We have some stuff to talk about.” At Aidan’s voice, everyone stilled, even Robin. “We have some decisions to make. But I have to first remind everyone that what’s said here tonight stays here.”

Mirren had bypassed the chairs and leaned against the wall next to the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest. Standing in his favorite Mirren position, in other words. “What about them?” He didn’t have to say who “them” was.

“Colonel Thomas speaks very highly of both of you.” Aidan nodded at Nik and Robin. “And God knows we need you here, desperately. But before we go any further, you need to be bonded to either Mirren or me. I require it of everyone who lives in Penton, and the colonel has agreed to it. It’s safer for all of us. Cage, we never broke our bond before you went back to London and I can still feel it, so you’re good to go. Any questions, Nik or Robin?”

They exchanged glances. “We were told a little about the bonding requirement, but not the specifics,” Nik said. “Like, you can draw strength from us, right? And know where we are? But how does it work, exactly?”

Aidan nodded. “If I’m within range of you, I’ll know if you’re in danger. I can pull physical strength from you if I’m injured, but again, only within a certain range. You can’t be fed from by any vampire who is not also bonded to me—either directly, or indirectly through Mirren or Will.”

“Okay.” Nik shrugged. “What do we do?”

“You exchange blood with a master vampire.” Mirren pushed himself away from the wall with one foot and stalked toward them, coming to a stop in front of Robin. She looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “Afterward, whoever you’re bonded to will know if you’re being dishonest or disloyal.”

“I got no problem with that.” Robin turned to look at Cage. “But I want to do it with him, with Cage.”

Mirren hiked one dark eyebrow northward. “Oh, you would, would you?”

Thank God vampires couldn’t blush; otherwise, Cage might have to slink back to London in humiliation at the speculative look Mirren was laying on him. He could swear the man was almost smiling—except that, of course, it was Mirren.

“I don’t give a fuck what you and Reynolds do with each other in your own time, but he’s not a master vampire. You got me, or you got Aidan.”

“Let’s just get it over with.” Nik wedged himself between Robin and Mirren. “How do we do this?”

“Better to do it sitting, so I’ll show you.” Aidan moved to the end of the sofa, and Nik sat about a foot away from him, back rigid, jaw clenched. “Relax. Roll up your sleeve and hold out your arm.”

No man bound for the gallows ever had a more grim expression than the one on Nik’s face as he shoved up the right sleeve of his olive-green shirt and stuck his arm out toward Aidan. “It’s not like feeding,” Cage said, hoping to reassure him. “It doesn’t last long, and it’ll be easier if you relax your posture a little.”

Nik shot an irate look in Cage’s direction, but took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulder muscles—until Aidan grasped Nik’s wrist firmly in one hand and pulled out his pocketknife. Nik struggled to pull away but couldn’t; it was his first taste of vampire strength. “What’s the knife for?”

Aidan’s smile was faint. “You’d rather I bit?”

“Uh, no. The knife’s fine.” To Nik’s credit, he only flinched slightly when Aidan made a small horizontal cut across the soft underside of his forearm, swept his tongue across the cut, and quickly placed his mouth over it. Before the first draw of blood, Nik closed his eyes and visibly relaxed. A vampire’s saliva numbed the cut and sent nice, orgasmic waves of pleasure through the feeder. The longer the feed, the more intense the feeling.

Most likely, Nik barely had a buzz before Aidan licked the wound to seal it. He quickly flicked the knife across his own forearm and held it out. “Now, you.”