Captiva Capitulation

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Too bad for her.

A special education major, she volunteered at local, well-worn shelters where human children recovered from atrocities that would have otherwise left them broken. From the set of her jaw, at one time, she’d been broken, too. Maintaining a tiny off-campus apartment, she lived on nothing but ramen noodles and drove a rusty hatchback from decades gone by, complete with a dangling muffler. Its maximum speed hit twenty miles per hour, and in the past thirty-six hours, it had overheated twice. Yesterday, the second time it waved its white flag; she broke down right along with it and cried. Since it was her twentieth birthday, she then brushed away her tears rather definitely and marched across the street, treating herself to a hot fudge sundae that she couldn’t afford on a good day.

Not that she had good days.

“Master will appreciate this one, if for her youth alone.”

“
I
don’t appreciate any part of this hunt. Not much challenge found in chasing this Were mix. Usually, Donors are a harder find, making things interesting. This one, not so much,” Lovec grumbled, gesturing across the campus where students were rushing in and out of their night classes.

“She pays no attention to her environs. No one has trained her in any way. Look at her, weaving between barely lit buildings while keeping her books in front of her face. Really? And there’s no male around to protect her from creatures of the night, such as us.”

“Females born of this century find the offer of male protection an insult.”

“No shit?”

Lovec delivered a droll look and then turned back to their target. “Just as she did last night, she’s beating a path between those dumpsters.” The hunter’s eyes skated to the side, feline-like pupils constricting. “Predictable girl.”

“Master wants his Donor. No time like the present.”

In a spiraling rush, they jumped from the high ledge, four black wings circling their target with honed precision born of unfathomable Dynasty power. Ten feet down, they brought their wings tight against their bodies and dropped like rocks, though graceful, landing on either side of her.

Too damn easy.

Lovec suddenly wrapped his forearm around her fragile ribs, pulling her back against his chest. Not one scream left her throat, but she blustered in gasping spurts, “Let… go! What…” A slower gasp left her as she spotted his partner fetching the backpack and textbooks she’d dropped. “W-what
are
you?”

Black as night, dark as evil in his true hunter form, Lovec’s eyes flashed when he said, “Never mind what we are, this is the part where your kind usually prays.” When she worked up her scream, he brought one hand over her mouth. Then some of her buried Were instincts must have kicked in, because she bit him. Hard. “Bolder than I thought. You
do
have a taste for blood. Doesn’t matter, won’t help you where you’re going.”

That wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

Releasing a confident rumble, his werewolf banged against the inside of his skull. Fighting to get to his mate, his Beast nearly ripped his spine in half. What happened to a little thing called cooperation?
You should be working seamlessly with me, Beast, us staying together as whole.

Get her.

Calm down, werewolf, or she’ll run.

On many occasions, he had trouble with his Were when he had neared Blythe, but nothing compared to this. No matter what Bane thought was going on before,
this
was new to Rock. Not one male had ever fully expressed
this
exact sensation, though they’d tried. Now, a single night without his female would be too taxing for the monster that resided in him, even when Pack duties would undoubtedly call him away.

I will never leave her.

Rock’s head dropped back in agony, his body burning, eyes emitting a lapis glow wherever his line of vision landed. Three breaths in, one long exhale out, he sucked every trace of her in, her scent forever ingrained into his soul, binding them in a way no other creature could accomplish – including Sixten Kovac.

Nothing could tear them apart.

Three breaths in, one ragged exhale out, his werewolf attempted once again to break free.
Taste her
, it insisted excitedly, which really wasn’t a bad idea.
In time
, Rock answered, but both wanted that now. In this moment, his creature ran wild and fierce through Rock’s mind, burning to take Blythe’s throat between his teeth and carry her back to Sanibel Island. Find a place in the marsh thick with foliage and lower her down to her hands and knees on a nest of palm fronds. There, he would spread her wide and lengthen his tongue for her. He’d refused to do that for any other female, even if the werewolves he’d selected for the night had begged him to. Mates shared certain intimacies, and he’d followed those unspoken, male rules of Pack to the letter.

Burning up from the inside out, Rock turned away from the nearly full moon, refusing to absorb any more celestial power tonight. From Blythe’s arousal scent alone, his Were Beast was flying high enough to power southwest Florida indefinitely.

Bite her.

We will claim her, Beast.

He stared up at his mate’s window, wanting to jump through it. The scary part for Blythe? Full moon would begin tomorrow night. Even though she’d just walked through another bought of hell with the Dynasty Vampyr, he would
insist
she come to Sanibel Island. He refused to wait on any claiming. What was his was his. On that, his werewolf would never relent.

On that, Rock completely agreed.

Kash and Sixten were standing, tense, impatiently listening at the intel Bane refused to spew over the phone. Marchii Gianni may still be out there. They hadn’t collected his body in the orange grove, since it physically disappeared. Nor were there any clues found anywhere else on that property. Bane continued to explain his thoughts. With his fixation on Blythe, Gianni was probably plotting revenge. Not to mention he’d been shamed in front of his personal guards. The royal’s chosen mate had preferred a mixed blood to him. Certainly, Kash and Sixten understood that Dynasty Vampyrs didn’t take to public humiliation well. What male did? So more than likely, Gianni was coming after Blythe and Sixten with both barrels.

The vampire could try.

Rock's mind wandered through Blythe's orgasm-producing dream brought on by his Beast. One he shared with her, though he remained awake, following her spirit through the marsh while incited by her intoxicating aroma. His mind whirling in every direction, wondering what best to do with her in bed and out, his body needed to serve Blythe’s every whim and feed her most intimate fantasies. Dark ones. The ones she thought she could never share with another, particularly Sixten. 
Those fantasies stayed locked inside her dreams, only edging her waking conscious. 
Moments ago, Rock had witnessed parts of them first hand. 
In her innocence, she felt guilty for them.

He bared his teeth. “I will free them, Blythe,” he whispered softly, speaking through his elongated canines. “Your fantasies are now my own.”

“Here goes
everything
.” He eased his claws from the trees, shaking the blood from his hands, and walked to the others. Easily, he remembered the times he came to this very side deck, demanding for Sixten to release Blythe to their Pack. This night, his demands had drastically changed.

“Rock.” Sixten inclined his head, bewildered, no doubt, by seeing him in mid-trans when there wasn’t any threat about. “You have word for us?”

Kash placed his hands on the railing, all jumpy. “I smell…”

“Shifters.” Bane growled, skipping mid-trans and going straight to the Beta Beast.

Out of nowhere, a Florida Panther materialized ten feet away, poised to strike. Rock flashed to full werewolf, jumping high and landing between the shifter and Sixten’s deck. It hissed loudly and Rock returned that sentiment with a lethal growl only expressed by an overly irate werewolf. Wasting no time moving forward, the shifter shoved its muscular body at Rock, its jaws wide with gleaming teeth.

This Habaline was a young one, his makeup part werewolf. One bite from a dominant, pureblood Beast would finalize the deal and make the kill.

That wasn’t happening. Rock’s werewolf refused to deliver an easy deathblow, wanted it to suffer. No one intervened. Bane watched carefully, his glowing eyes following blurring movements between Beast and alien.

Kash stood almost nervously, looking between the action and Sixten’s home – with Blythe just inside. Sixten went nowhere, his face furious. “I’m ready to blow that fucker wide open if Rock doesn’t stop fooling around,” he said on a slow hiss, speaking to Bane. “Blythe doesn’t need a look at another shifter so soon. Her pain is fresh, her mind still fragile over her abduction. I cannot have this!”

The Beta had no authority over them. Nevertheless, Bane’s be-clawed hand shot up, a motion requesting a tad more patience where Rock was concerned. “She’s safe inside the house and Rock needs this,” Bane growled, simmering back down to mid-trans.

Then, double trouble happened. Another panther jumped Rock from behind, biting him on the shoulder. Rock’s claws rose up to slash and eviscerate the Habaline in front, but he hadn’t dumped enough energy. His werewolf still needed to play, so he slammed it to the ground instead.

Sixten shook his head. “Still playing, what the hell?”

All eyes remained on Rock. Logically, he moved the action away from the house, nearing the property’s edge filled with thick palms and low-lying brush. He snarled when one latched onto his shoulder with its thick canines, shaking him.

“Finish this,” Kash warned, his cheekbones sharpening, his irises bleeding into the whites. Purple. Glowing purple flooded his face, the mark of an enraged Vampyr Vojak who stood ready to finalize the kills himself.

“For only one reason, I will stand back and allow you this play, Rock,” Sixten warned. “You were instrumental in saving my Blythe,” he continued in an even tone, though he suddenly released his Species. “But, clearly my patience is waning. These creatures are on
my
property with
my
wife inside the perimeter.”