A Guardians Passion (23 page)

Geraldine Daniels was a striking woman with golden-brown skin and black hair kept in a near buzz cut. She wore a formfitting outfit: a red leather vest that kept her ample bosom suppressed and jeans with no shoes. Ger never wore shoes. Shorter than Freya by at least a foot, Geraldine was wider, certainly more muscular than her daughter, and twice as intimidating. Black eyes that rivaled coals scorched everyone they fell upon as she strode out over the sand.

She came to a stop before Vaegar and Gaea, eyes darting to Fenris. “I’m sorry. Am I disturbing something? Were you about to berserk the fuck out?” she asked just as casually as she would inquire about the weather.

“He can find them, Geraldine.”

She snapped her head back at Vaegar and sneered. “Yeah, after he kills half the motherfuckers here. And while you may be a badass, Vaegar, you really are nowhere in
that
male’s league.”

“I could take on a Luna.”

Geraldine rolled her eyes to the heavens. “Yeah, but not on your own and not with those sorry-assed excuses for warriors at your side, because I won’t step in the way of that fucking beat down. Might even help him out.” She smirked, gesturing to Fenris.

Vaegar’s nostrils twitched, undoubtedly because he knew that she spoke the truth. “Fine then. What else do you suggest? We have to find the women quickly, Geraldine.”

“And you don’t think I know that? My daughter will try her damnedest, but that child won’t sit longer than a crackhead with a C-note. She’s gonna fight.”

“We need to get to her before that can happen,” Gaea added.

Geraldine looked to Gaea, her onetime lover and close friend. If ever there was a team he could believe in, help that he could rely upon, it was the two females who stood before him.

“Yeah. Exactly,” Geraldine finally replied. “That’s what took me so long. I had to pick up someone with some incentive to help.” She turned her head and looked over at the silver were dragging a chalk-pale captive at his side. The tall, thin male had short cinnamon-brown hair, eyebrows even a wolf would envy, and near black eyes that shimmered with fear. Growls, curses, and threats rippled throughout the gathered crowd, who hadn’t exactly returned to the vehicles as instructed. It was a vampire, held prisoner by a wolf.

Cole was the only name Rayne knew the Irish wolf by. Silver-gray hair hanging in loose waves over his shoulders, Cole had a rugged look about him and ruddy features that females could easily find attractive. The silver wolf had fought, drunk, and been at Freya’s side for years and hadn’t exactly expressed joy when Rayne and Fenris had laid claim to her.

The jealousy between them would never allow Cole and Rayne to be friends, but even Rayne had to smile at the gift Cole brought before them.

“Now, Fenris,” Geraldine asked. “You gonna be a good pup and calm the fuck down?”

Rayne could feel the tension ebbing from his alpha’s form. He could certainly see bulk decreasing, pulse steadying, and fur receding. Within moments, Fenris stood before Geraldine in human form, skin glistening with the warm rain and aura of steam emanating from him.

Relieved, Gaea grabbed her son around the waist and drew him close for a hug.

Geraldine approached the pair. She looked up, meeting Fenris’s downcast eyes. “You good?”

“Yes…ma’am,” Fenris answered.

She slapped him on the arm and gave a nod of approval before heading over to where Cole stood with his catch. “Now. You want to tell everyone where we should be headed, Master Vamp?”

More concerned about Fenris and the transformation he had just witnessed, not from a wolf but from something more fearsome, the vampire could barely keep his eyes upon Geraldine. Reeking of fear and nervousness, the trembling male replied, “T-Tennessee.”

* * * *

Rayne wasn’t the biggest fan of flying or airplanes, but on principle, the larger the aircraft, the happier Rayne was. Vaegar’s plane wasn’t small by any means. It was able to carry twenty passengers at most. However, transporting Fenris, Gaea, Geraldine, Cole, and their prisoner had taken priority over anyone else. Rayne and Ezra were no less vital as they sped off to the location given to them by the vampire: Rayne for his ability to handle Fenris, and Ezra as added insurance. Rayne had insisted upon Ezra accompanying them when Vaegar questioned the chocolate wolf about what use he could be.

Weary, Rayne only had to mention what could happen if he couldn’t rein in Fenris after the slaughter that would undoubtedly come. If he failed to calm Fenris down, at least Ezra could buy a bit of time by cowering alone.

Vaegar had left Elian and his guard to lead the caravan of concerned males and family to Tennessee by any means necessary, while they took to the skies at the advice of a very certain vampire.

Fenris had been secured at the rear of the plane. Although he had managed to calm down at the beach, the scent of the offending vampire so near kept him on the electrical edge of restraint.

Rayne convinced his alpha to rest but had to use an extra measure of coercion when Fenris began to speculate on all the trouble that Freya could get into. He kept reminding Rayne that she was too feisty, too hampered by her pregnancy, how he should have been closer in order to protect her… Then his anger homed in upon Vaegar and the Sohons.

Seeking to calm his alpha, Rayne went to work once more. By the time Fenris finally succumbed to his spell, Rayne was tapped out. With shaking fingers, he buckled and rechecked the makeshift belts that held Fenris stable in his seat.

He thought of napping beside his alpha, but his own worries, his doubts, wouldn’t allow him to rest. He had said nothing when Fenris wondered why the Sohons hadn’t done more. Inwardly Rayne was too busy questioning his own resources to dwell on the Sohons. He had only ever focused on healing arts, but there were other concentrations he could have used, stronger magic and darker allies that could have helped…

Rayne got up from his seat, refusing to confront his failings. He was a wolf, first and foremost, and it was wolves that would get Freya back.

There was very little turbulence, but Rayne felt off balance all the same, weaving his way to the crowded front of the plane. Unlike a commercial plane, Vaegar’s personal plaything had front seats along the side of the plane rather than running in rows. Vaegar sat at a polished oak table, his eyes upon the ones seated around him, with a large bottle of tequila uncorked before him. Both Gaea and Geraldine held tumblers in their fists, while Cole cradled a beer. The vampire held a flask that reeked of blood, and while he had stopped shaking, his eyes still revealed his anxiety and discomfort.

Rayne moved to the empty seat beside Gaea and Geraldine, across from Cole and the prisoner, whose name, Rayne discovered, was François. A nine-hundred-year-old master, François had moved his coven from France to the United States during the Civil War. As far as vampires went and according to Geraldine, François was a pacifist. He didn’t drink the blood of humans, but that didn’t stop him from mingling with and entertaining those that did.

Rayne settled in beside Geraldine, searching the drawn faces around him and wondering what had already been spoken.

Gaea leaned toward him. There was concern visible across her features. “Is he okay?”

“Yes. He’s under.” It was as close as Rayne could come to actually describing the state of his alpha when
coma
might have been a better term.

Vaegar huffed. “An alpha that has to be put to sleep? Who ever heard of such a thing?”

Geraldine raised her tumbler and finished the contents. She reached over to snatch the bottle from Vaegar’s desk. “Not me. But then I’d never heard of an insecure alpha either. But
you
seem to be doing just fine pretending to be all fancy and shit.”

Vaegar’s face turned a deep red. He seemed to be on the precipice of replying, but as Geraldine looked only too ready for his retort, Vaegar backed down, feigning thirst.

No doubt the two had a history. Rayne only wished he was privy to it.

“Are you okay?”

Rayne blinked as Gaea raised her chin to him. Hoping he didn’t look as bad as he felt, Rayne lied. “I’m fine. Just need to recoup a bit.”

Done with Vaegar, Geraldine passed the bottle of spirits to Rayne. “Here. Drink, cub. Have a bite to eat. Cole?”

The silver wolf, once Freya’s beta, stood up and opened an overhead bin. Inside was a case from which he pulled out a thick pack of cured meat. He handed it over to Rayne solemnly.

Rayne thanked the beta, knowing full well what the tight-lipped glare Cole set upon him meant. Rayne suspected that words held back had stopped the male from pursuing anything with Freya, but then Rayne couldn’t blame him.

Would Freya have done anything other than consume him and toss him aside if it hadn’t been for Fenris? Rayne didn’t want to think about it. She was his now, and that was all that mattered—that and getting her back. Choosing to concentrate on the spicy-flavored meat—venison, by the taste of it—Rayne ate another piece.

He had eaten a half a pound before he wondered aloud with greasy, salt-parched lips, “What exactly do we know?”

“That every last vampire responsible for this shit is going to die.” Vaegar was looking directly at François.

He could have guessed that already. Posing his question to the others, Rayne asked, “What do they want?”

“Breeders. Power,” Cole started.

Geraldine chimed in. “They want an edge. They want shit like it was in the dark ages, with minions and lackeys, wolves on leashes. They want to pretend like this hasn’t been a damned democracy for fuck-all long. I suppose they think that if they capture some of our wolves, then they can raise ’em up the way they want.”

“They want pets,” Gaea said with disgust in her voice. “Hmph. This plane can’t move fast enough.”

Vaegar, who had stealthily procured another bottle of tequila from beneath his desk, scowled. “We are going as fast as we can, I assure you. We’ll be on the ground in an hour. From the tarmac to the mansion, maybe an hour more—give or take.”

“How long do you think we have?” Rayne asked, his question posed to François.

François ceased to admire the pattern on the carpet and looked up. His eyes flitted up and down as if he were unsure of where to place them. He reeked of sympathy, a scent that unnerved Rayne all the more.

“They’re going to try to split them up as soon as possible,” said the vampire. “You have until sunup at best. Then they’ll be gone, scattered to the winds. But we will get to them. We…we’re making good time.”

“Of course we are.” Cole checked his watch. “If everything goes smoothly, we’ll have four hours before the sun rises.”

It wouldn’t be soon enough, Rayne told himself, chewing every strip to get at the precious nutrients. He would need the added energy to shake off more than just his insecurities and exhaustion. Rayne listened as Cole and the others discussed plans of attack. While François had never been to the mansion himself, he was able to give advice about what to expect.

Rayne was making plans of his own, namely about how to deal with Fenris. Once they landed, if the scent of Freya was anywhere on the wind, then it would mean trouble. All of their plotting and schemes would dissolve. Fenris would indeed go berserk.

He would need to be ready. The possibility that there would be others, females and cubs, who needed help weighed on him. He had never pushed himself to the limit before and wondered if he wasn’t gambling.

The plan being constructed in the plane was apt, and the weapons sitting around him were deadly and efficient, but there were other recourses. Last-ditch options.

If Rayne knew anything, it was that Freya still lived.

And so he pledged himself to following the plan of wolves rather than flirting with the unknowns.

Once he was sure he couldn’t eat another bite, Rayne nudged Geraldine again. “Are you sure his word is reliable?”

“François’s?”

Rayne nodded before folding up the remainder of the jerky and setting it aside.

“Yeah. I’m sure,” Geraldine said. “I think he’s very intelligent. He helps me out when he can, right, Frankie?”

François had been discussing the vulnerabilities of asprega when he heard Geraldine’s question. Like a child being asked if he was okay by the schoolyard bully, he replied, “Certainly,
chère
.”

Geraldine had a wicked smirk across her features as she waggled a finger in the vampire’s direction. “Me and Frankie go waaay back.”

“That’s funny, Geraldine. I didn’t suspect you of frolicking with bats.”

She raised the bottle in her fist before taking a long pull and using the neck to point at Vaegar. “Not in the way that you’ve frolicked with them, because I don’t have a cock that needs servicing every night, but occasionally they are useful.”

Gaea’s laughter filled the cabin.

Unamused, Vaegar worried a distended fang. “So, why didn’t he notify you
before
this happened?”

François supplied his answer swiftly. “I wasn’t aware. I did not know. They know that I do not agree with their views. It wasn’t until Geraldine contacted me that I even sought information. Vampires are telepathic with their progeny. As soon as I heard what had happened, I acted, probing…despite the cost.”

Geraldine vouched for him. “Yes, and Frankie has several progeny who don’t necessarily share his hippie views.”

“Correct. It was not easy obtaining the information. I…I had to destroy one of my children.” His voice trailed off, and he frowned as if the memory pained him. “This plan was kept heavily guarded. Di’Amanda and the others had apparently been planning this for a very long time.”

Rayne assumed the others had already been informed, but he wanted to hear from the source what they would be up against and whom he would have to unleash hell, in the form of his alpha, upon. “So then. Tell me about this Di’Amanda.”

“Well,” François started with a grimace, “the first thing to know about her is that while I have been around for centuries, she has been around for more. That and she’s not the most agreeable.”

“I’m listening,” Rayne replied.

“She is as clever as she is vicious.”