Wolf's Fall (10 page)

“Who's up for a game?” he called to the few guys who were getting in their workouts.

Ryon grinned. “Bring it, old man!”

“You're on.”

If he couldn't gain some insight, at least he'd be too tired to dream tonight.

He hoped.

*   *   *

Calla paced her bedroom and brooded until she couldn't stand it anymore. Until she was sick of her own company.

Hiding out and waiting for Nick to come to her obviously wasn't going to work. The commander's issues ran too deep to simply disappear because they'd enjoyed fabulous sex at the waterfall.

No, she needed a plan. But what, she didn't know.

What she needed was a distraction. After dressing in a pair of black pants and a nice casual blouse, she headed for the stronghold's school. Vampire children were not great in number, given that most vampire pregnancies didn't survive to term, but the ones they were fortunate enough to
call their own required schooling. Public school being out of the question, that meant they had to handle education internally.

Calla didn't hold a teaching certificate, but their actual teachers did. Their staff studied at major universities, remaining under the humans' radar until graduating and returning to the fold to teach the coven's children.

For Calla's part, she loved children. She liked to be productive, and substituting two or three days per week to give the other teachers time off suited her just fine. The kids would definitely help take her mind off her troubles.

She stopped in at Lora Hart's room. Lora taught the first through third graders in one area, and was always thankful for a break. Calla popped in and smiled at the chorus of happy greetings from the sweet faces that looked up from their work.

“Hey, guys,” she called.

“Miss Shaw,” Lora said with a smile, greeting her that way for the kids' benefit. Calla insisted the teachers not use “Princess Calla” when she came to take over. It might be too distracting for the young ones to process the difference between “princess” and “teacher.”

“Mrs. Hart, would you like a break? I saw Mr. Hart earlier and I thought you might like to have a late lunch with your mate.”

Pure gratitude flooded Lora's face. “Are you sure? I mean, if you don't mind, that sounds lovely!”

“I'm positive, or I wouldn't have offered. Just show me what you guys are working on today and I'll take it from here.”

Quickly, the teacher showed her the plans and where she'd put the materials for the art project the students were going to make. Calla assured Lora she and the kids had things under control and not to worry about hurrying back. The grateful woman fled, as though Calla might suddenly change her mind.

With a chuckle, she got to work. The children proved to be the very best medicine that afternoon. The day wasn't without its challenges—a boy peed his pants, one threw up, and one spilled paint all over the floor. But there wasn't a dull moment, and she didn't think of Nick once. Until Lora came back two hours later.

Calla said good-bye to the kids, with the promise to come back later in the week and stay all day. Her heart tugged as she left. Wistfully, she thought of having her own children someday. Pregnancy wasn't in the cards for too many vampire females, but maybe the Fates would bless her.

But that wasn't going to happen if her mate wouldn't come near her.

Marching to her brother's office, she pushed inside and shut the door with enough force to make him jump.

“We need to
talk.”

“I
f you want me to stop bellowing for you in the hallways, then you might stop barging into my office without knocking,” Tarron pointed out in annoyance.

“This is important.” Calla threw herself into one of the stuffed chairs and ignored his scowl. “I need for you to help me come up with a way to put me and Nick together for an extended period of time.”

“Are you serious?”

“No,” she said, deadpan. “Because I'm totally fine with me and my mate living hundreds of miles apart in separate states. It's all good.”

“Your mate?” Sitting back in his chair, Tarron exhaled a breath. “Well, that solves
that
little mystery.”

“I'm sure you suspected, given our talk before.”

“Will you be angry if I admit I'd hoped it was a passing thing? Infatuation?”

A tiny shard of hurt speared her stomach. “Why would you hope that? Don't you want me to be happy?”

“Of course I do! I just— Look, I'm not going to beat a dead horse. You know my reasons for being skeptical of a wolf-vampire union. But if you're
certain
Nick is your mate—”

“He is. I pretty much knew it the moment we met.”

“Does
he
know?”

“Yes. We've discussed it, but only briefly,” she admitted, biting her lip. “He ran. And that's the problem—how can we work things out when we're so far apart?”

“All right. I'll do all I can to support you,” he said gently. “You can trust me.”

She relaxed, some of the anxiety dissipating. “I know. Thanks, big brother.”

“Let me think about it, okay? Maybe I can suggest some type of training exercise for coordinating during emergencies.” He paused and added thoughtfully, “That might not be such a bad idea, anyway.”

She beamed at her brother. “Genius! Get them here for a few days and I can do the rest.”

He shook his head with a laugh. “I like your confidence.”

“More like optimism.”

“Same thing.”

Pushing to her feet, she went around her brother's desk, threw her arms around him, and hugged him tight. He hugged her back fiercely and kissed her temple.

“I only want you to be happy. Nothing else matters.”

“Thanks. Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said affectionately. “Out of my office, brat. I've got a million things to do.”

“Oh, whatever. I see that Candy Crush app minimized on your tool bar, you slacker.”

“Damn.”

Giggling, she let him go and made her way out, feeling a whole lot lighter. Tarron would schedule the training, and Nick wouldn't be able to avoid her. It was a win-win all around.

What to do now? She would go back to the school area, except classes were done for the day. She might as well go for her daily walk. In fact . . . Yes. She'd go back to the waterfall—hers and Nick's—and relive every single moment of their rendezvous. That sweet memory would keep her going until they met again.

On the way out, she was confronted by a guard. To her annoyance, she couldn't dissuade him from accompanying her, no matter what she said.

“Graham, come on. I've been walking the mountains and forests around here for quite some time, and I've never encountered a single problem. I
won't tell my brother that you didn't go with me if
you
don't. He'll never know.” She gave the guard her best winning smile. It fell upon stony ground.

“Princess,” he said, arching a brow, “
I
would know. The hunter problem is rampant, and it's dangerous. Are you going to allow me the pleasure of your company, or should I inform your brother?”

Annoyed, she uttered a very unladylike curse under her breath. With no choice but to give in, she huffed, “Fine. Suit yourself.”

Graham was like a sticky burr on her sock the entire way to the falls. His presence “seriously
sucked,” as the teenage students would say, and she snorted to herself. She'd been hanging around with kids far too long when she started thinking in their slang.

Being with Nick would fix that!

She picked her way down the path, doing her best to ignore Graham and focus on the beauty around her. After more than four hundred years, there was still wonder to be enjoyed and she counted herself fortunate she felt that way. So many of her kind had soured on their existence long ago and sought peace in death.

For years after Stefano's murder, she had wished to join him. But over time, she began to face the fact that he would want her not only to survive, but to embrace life again. Hell, she was no Disney
princess, and she had plenty of bad days, but the good outweighed them.

Besides, what sort of example would she be to the young ones if she gave up?

Feeling content, she picked a rock by the edge of the wading pool and used it as her seat. Across the pool, the falls were shimmering with the golden afternoon light. Letting her mind roam, she relived the moments she'd spent there with Nick. She knew without a doubt it would always be one of her most treasured memories.

Graham settled on a log a few yards away and started playing on his phone. She guessed it was pretty boring watching her stare at the pool and didn't blame him for playing a game or checking his messages. Then again, he'd insisted on tagging along, so if he was bored, it was his own fault.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there. But the sun was starting to dip behind the trees and shadows lengthened across the earth when she decided she was ready to go inside.

Just then, she heard a cry of surprise, and she spun on her rock, thinking the guard must've somehow hurt himself. Instead, she was shocked to see him struggling with a human dressed in a camouflage shirt and pants.

A hunter!

Graham went for the gun stuck in his waistband, but was too late. The hunter brandished a
dagger and plunged it into his shoulder, and the guard went down.

“Graham!” she yelled.

But he was slow getting to his feet, and the hunter stabbed him again. Panic exploded in Calla's chest. She couldn't abandon the guard. But she wasn't much of a fighter. Should she go for help?

Yes. She needed to alert Tarron. It would take only seconds—

From behind, strong arms grabbed her and something heavy was snapped around her neck. She screamed, and her hand went to the collar. Iron! Oh, gods, no!

“No! Let go of me!”

“Shut up, vampire bitch!”

A fist cuffed the side of her face, and pain reverberated in her skull. She was tough, but incapacitated this way, she knew she was in serious trouble. The iron collar severely hampered her natural defenses against abuse, and she couldn't teleport away. It weakened her immediately.

The man began dragging her away as his companion wiped his knife on Graham's shirt. She didn't know whether the guard was alive or dead, and a wave of remorse hit her hard.

“Help! Tarron! Somebody, help me!”

“I said,
shut up
!”

Another blow to her face made her head swim. She couldn't form a coherent thought, and came very close to passing out. When the bastard picked
her up and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and ran, bouncing her stomach again and again, she had to fight not to be sick.

After several minutes, the man stopped. He roughly yanked her off his shoulder and thrust her toward the open side door of a dark van. Two more men were waiting inside, and pulled her in, shoving her to the dirty carpet. Her arms were pulled behind her back and one picked up a roll of silver duct tape, wrapping several layers around her wrists. Another piece was slapped over her mouth, and the man who'd abducted her jumped into the passenger's seat.

The van took off with a lurch, and her heart pounded in terror. What the hell was going on?
Hunters don't kidnap their victims. They kill them outright.

They must want her as a hostage. To trade for . . . something. Had they taken Tarron as well? The thought made her go cold.

Oh, Nick. Help me.
If only they'd mated already, she could've communicated with him telepathically. As it was, he'd learn she was missing after Tarron and his men did—and how long would that take? They would search, but her scent might be gone by that time.

“That's one fine bitch right there,” one of the men drawled.

His companion snickered. “Yeah. Too bad she's a bloodsucker.”

Calla angled her head to see them. The first speaker was a shorter, bulky man with a graying buzz cut and pockmarked skin. Military, maybe. But more likely military wannabe than the real thing. The second man was younger, skinny. Dark hair, mean dark eyes. He reminded her of a rodent.

Buzz Cut spat near her head. “I'll bet she can suck this just fine,” he said, crudely cupping his crotch. “I'll find out soon enough. But if she bites, I'll take a pair of pliers and pull those teeth out.”

The idea made her sick. The agony, she'd heard, was indescribable. Survivors of this sort of torture were forced to feed by drinking from a cup. They could never bite their mates again. A horrible fate.

“What do ya think, honey?” Rat said, pushing a lock of hair from her face. “Think you can Hoover my cock with nothin' but your gums?”

“Shut up back there, both of you,” the man in the front passenger's seat growled. “You're making me sick, going on about sticking any part of you in some filthy vampire. God knows what you'd catch.”

That was ironic, considering vampires didn't get diseases, and humans were technically the dirtiest creatures on earth. That man was the one who'd taken Calla. She couldn't get a look at him in her position. The driver huffed a laugh, but didn't add anything to the conversation, such as it was.

Rat seemed fascinated with her hair, and kept touching it. Drawing back, she tried to hiss, flashing him a deadly glare. If her mouth weren't taped shut, she would've used her fangs to rip an artery open by now. He knew that and enjoyed taunting her about her helplessness.

“Ooh, you wanna bite me, doncha, pretty bloodsucker? So bad you can taste it?”

His smile showed teeth that seriously needed brushing. He smelled bad, too. Like old piss and beer. She wouldn't have fed off this piece of shit if his were the last blood source on the planet.

She tried to convey that with her glare, but the message was lost on the stupid oaf.

Buzz Cut slapped her arm. “Just keep that attitude going, missy. That's the way we like 'em—feisty.”

They continued to talk more nastiness, but the humming between her ears finally got the best of her. The earlier blows to her face were making her loopy, and she could barely keep her eyes open.

She must've fallen asleep—or, rather, passed out—because the next thing she became aware of was the van coming to a stop. Doors opened and footsteps crunched on the ground outside. Then she was unceremoniously dragged from the vehicle and shoved forward, being ordered to walk.

It had gone fully dark, but for a vampire night vision wasn't a problem. She could see a modest log cabin just a few yards ahead, and two more
vehicles. She couldn't fathom why so many hunters were involved in kidnapping one lone vampire. It didn't make much sense.

Walking ahead of the men, she stumbled up the porch steps and into the cabin, whose door had swung open at her approach. A couple more men waited in the living room, giving her satisfied smiles as she stopped.

“Who's this?” one asked. He had a prominent beaklike nose, so she dubbed him Beak. “I thought we were supposed to grab Romanoff first.”

Fear clogged her throat. They
had
wanted Tarron, after all.

“Opportunity popped up,” Rat said. “This one's just as good, if not better. According to our source.”

“She'll draw the rest of her kind, as well as those mangy wolves, to us. That's all we care about.”

The others smirked. Fear coursed through her anew. She was to be used as bait? No. Tarron and Nick would come for her, but they would realize they were being set up. They wouldn't fall into any trap, no matter what these Neanderthals tried to do.

They pushed her down a dim hallway to a door close to the end.

“Put her in here,” Beak said, throwing it open.

Buzz Cut flung her into the windowless room and gave her a feral grin. “You get comfy, now. Be back before you know it.”

Her venomous glare said what her mouth couldn't. A huge “fuck you” that she wished she could
voice. The door slammed and she heard the sound of the lock clicking into place. Taking stock, she peered around in the darkness.

There wasn't one stick of furniture in the room. No junk lying around, nothing she could use to sever the tape on her wrists. She was standing in a suffocating box with no way out.

Legs shaking, she put her back against the far wall and slid down it until she was seated on the dirty floor. Tears threatened but she refused to give in to them. She wasn't going to give these animals the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

She didn't think she could sleep in this horrible place, but eventually exhaustion took its toll. Slumping sideways, she settled down and let her eyes drift closed.

And she lost the battle to stay awake.

*   *   *

Tarron was nearly finished with his evening meal in his private chambers when his cell phone rang. Picking it up from the table, he studied the display.

The head chef? Why was the man calling him?

He answered politely. “Hello, Anders. What can I do for you?”

“I'm sorry to bother you, Prince Tarron,” the chef said. “But I was wondering whether to save the princess a plate. We're getting ready to close.”

He frowned in confusion. “I don't know. You mean, she didn't come to dinner?”

“No, sire. I even asked around and nobody has seen her at all,” the man said, his worry obvious. “It's not like her to miss a meal, and when she does, she always lets us know what her plans are.”