Chosen by Blood (9 page)

Mahone leaned back in his chair, his suspicion readily apparent. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m wondering what you know about him. Would he be susceptible to bribery if North Korea were to contact him?”

“How open-minded of you to voice suspicion of a vamp. Or is that because I told you he isn’t from your clan?”

Knox refused to answer and Mahone shrugged. “Kristoff Lafleur has worked with the FBI for almost twenty-five years. We just didn’t know for most of that time that he was a vampire. He’s proven his dedication time and again, and I have no concerns that he’s involved in this. On the other hand, we intercepted a transmission yesterday between North Korea and one of its allies, in which a high-ranking military leader referred to their recent success in obtaining a ‘cure.’”

Not missing the way Mahone had brushed off his concerns about Lafleur, Knox nevertheless felt a surge of excitement that the word “cure” had indeed been linked with the North Korean government. It was weak evidence, but evidence nonetheless. They’d need more, however, before launching an offensive attack. “I’m assuming your people will continue surveillance while Team Red is gathered?”

“That’s right.” Mahone shrugged. “And who knows? I’m betting you’ll get your chance at the scientists, too.” For a moment, Mahone looked troubled, but then he smiled mockingly. “But only after you’ve officially agreed to join the Bureau. That way, even if you manage to discover the antidote’s chemical composition, I’ll still have your word that you’ll lead this team.”

“What about my word that I won’t siphon out other topsecret information? Don’t you want that?”

Mahone smiled slightly. “National secrets aren’t what you want, Devereaux. I know that, even if the President needs some convincing.”

That was good to know, of course, but no real surprise. Mahone knew Knox’s needs were few—take care of those who belonged to him and make sure that a certain stubborn human finally accepted that she fell within that category. “You never answered before. Can I assume you’ve made the proper arrangements to get me what I want?” Knox asked.

Before Mahone could respond, his phone rang. He glanced at the clock before answering.

“This is Mahone.” He paused, then gave a slight nod. “Send her in.” He hung up. “Speaking of what you want,” Mahone murmured softly.

Every muscle in Knox’s body tensed. “She’s here?”

“Yes.”

Breathing became slightly easier as relief hit him. “So she agreed.”

“Not exactly. I haven’t had a chance—”

Knox immediately closed his eyes. A heavy disappointment warred with annoyance that Mahone hadn’t even approached Felicia with Knox’s demands. “She doesn’t know,” he confirmed flatly.

“Not yet. After rescuing that dharmire, she left town for a few days.”

Knox growled. “I don’t give a—”

A firm knock interrupted them. Muscles pumped as if for battle, Knox stood there. He didn’t turn, not even when Mahone called for his visitor to come in.

“I came as soon as I—”

It didn’t matter that he was in Mahone’s office, that Mahone was watching him, or that he and Mahone had just been discussing something as important as his clan.

He hadn’t been in the same room with her in years, but his body’s reaction to her presence was the same as it always was: instantaneous.

Her scent hit him like a sledgehammer and was followed by a wave of longing so intense it almost felled him. His skin prickled and his fangs ached as he fought to keep them sheathed. He couldn’t stop the hardening of his dick, however, or the urge he had to grab her and transport her to the Dome. To his bed. To someplace where duty and time dissolved, and he could just be with her.

She didn’t gasp or take a breath. Her words simply stopped. Something rare crystallized inside him.

Had she gotten over him? Had she found someone else?

Another emotion—pure, undiluted rage—filled him at the thought of her with another. It made everything else, every other emotion he’d ever felt, seem innocuous. Made him want to rip off his clothes—the luxurious symbols of civility that he normally loved—and make her see him as he truly was—primal, lethal, and fucking ready to prove to her that she was his, once and for all.

Instead, he took a deep breath and willed himself to calm. He opened his mind. Just a hair. Just enough to sense the desire buried beneath her resolve. Enough to dismiss that foreign emotion of fear and tamp down his rage.

When he was assured of his control, Knox slowly turned and faced the human female he’d wanted to bite from the moment he’d seen her. She was dressed conservatively in a white oxford shirt and navy blue pants, her auburn hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Taller than most females, she was neither delicate nor bulky. While most would consider her average in looks and sex appeal, Knox saw what most didn’t.

He saw the strength in her supple body.

He saw her courage, her compassion, and her integrity.

And at that moment, he saw the fiery sensuality that flared in her eyes before she banked it and stared at him with a practiced look of mild curiosity.

Felicia had always tried to hide her attraction to him, but she’d always failed. Nevertheless, he’d abided by her wishes and kept his distance.

But not anymore.

Not-the-fuck-anymore.

He didn’t speak the words, but given the way her eyes widened, she’d guessed at his thoughts.

Knox dipped his head in a courtly bow. “Hello, Felicia. Imagine running into you here.”

“
D
idn’t you see the sign? We don’t serve your kind here.”

Dex took another slow drink of his beer before spinning around on his bar stool. Leaning back, thighs spread wide, he stared at the guy in front of him.

He was a were, too, which didn’t make an iota of difference.

Dex’s “kind” didn’t fit in anywhere, not even with his own race. Not even with
either
of his races.

Instead of responding, however, he drained the beer bottle. Lazily, Dex wiped his mouth and set the bottle down on the bar before signaling to the bartender, a pretty blond mage who’d been flirting with him earlier but now looked scared shitless.

“I’ll take one more.”

The blonde hesitated, but jerked into action when Dex glowered at her. She set a fresh bottle in front of him, then quickly backed away.

He grabbed the bottle and raised it to his mouth.

“I told you—”

The ass-were growled as he tried to snatch Dex’s bottle.

In one fluid motion, Dex slammed the bottle into the bastard’s face while grabbing the guy’s nuts in a punishing grip. He twisted for good measure. The guy howled pitifully as glass shattered, breaking his nose and slicing his skin. Dex just pressed harder, barely feeling the bite of glass on his own palm.

When the crowd edged closer, several growls confirmed the presence of more werewolves, as well as their readiness to shift into wolf form so they could rip Dex’s throat out. Dex spun the werewolf into a choke hold at the same time he pulled his blade. He pressed the buck knife to the werewolf’s throat. Then, to make his point, he sliced off the guy’s ear.

The werewolf’s pained shriek made everyone freeze.

A flash of color in his periphery caught his eye but the scent was familiar. Sweet. Still innocent, if innocence was still possible in this world. There was a light touch on his shoulder. “The police are on their way. I’m sorry,” the blond bartender added. “I need this job.”

“My beer.”

She jerked her hand away. “Oh, yeah. Sure.” She retrieved a bottle, cap on, and held it out. Then she shook her head. “You’ve got a bike, right?”

“Outside.”

Protecting his back, Dex moved toward the door, still dragging the now-passive werewolf with a choke hold. His eye caught the sign near the restroom, the one he’d missed before. NO PETS ALLOWED.

Dex clenched his teeth. It didn’t matter that he was part were. As a half-Otherborn, a werebeast rather than a werewolf, he was considered a yapping dog. A whipped pet. A fucking joke.

The blonde, who’d been trailing him, followed his gaze and winced. Again, her expression was genuinely apologetic. The faint sound of sirens drifted toward them.

“Get the door,” Dex instructed.

She pushed open the door and then closed it after the three of them stepped outside. Dex shoved the bleeding were to the ground, making sure he’d block the door long enough to give him time to leave. As always, his bike was close by in case he needed to make a quick escape. He took the beer from the girl, shoved it into his saddlebag, and climbed on. He revved the motor.

“How’d you know?” she yelled as he backed up.

Dex knew immediately she was referring to his drink order. He’d paid her up front. Three beers plus a tip. “Just a lucky guess,” he yelled back.

“You gonna take that job?”

Recalling the call he’d gotten several days ago, Dex smiled, the expression so rare for him that it actually felt foreign. Director Kyle Mahone had practically choked the offer out, causing Dex to laugh long and hard. Unfortunately, he’d been able to think of little else since. Today, when the mage had asked him what was “up,” Dex had flippantly replied he was considering a new job. “Depends,” he said now. The sirens were getting louder, but he waited for her question.

“Depends on what?”

“Whether they’re afraid of the big, bad wolf.”

“You want them to be afraid?”

He ignored the slight reproof in her gaze. Innocent, he thought again. But she’d get over that really quick, he was sure. “If they’re afraid enough, they won’t even try to keep me on a tight leash. They’ll just leave me the fuck alone and let me do what I do best.”

“What’s that?”

“Survive to live another day.”

As he roared off, Dex internally amended his last statement.

He’d survive to make sure justice was served.

Served in the slowest, most painful way possible.

F
elicia shouldn’t have been surprised to see Knox.

She’d smelled him—that unique combination of soap and fresh mint, clean and elegant—before ever entering the office. She’d brushed it off as her imagination—a rookie mistake. She should have known better than to dismiss her intuition, especially where Knox was concerned.

She’d dreamed of him for years. While her dreams couldn’t be classified as clean or fresh or elegant, they usually ended with her lying limply on top of him, shivering with pleasure and breathing in that heavenly smell.

Still, Kyle should have warned her—

Dragging her gaze away from her reflection in Knox’s glasses, she glared at Kyle. The rat just shrugged his shoulders. She turned back to Knox. “Somehow, I don’t think our ‘running’ into each other is an accident. Am I wrong?”

“No.”

If her heart hadn’t been racing as quickly as her blood was heating, she might have smiled. Vamps, even dharmires, had few weaknesses, but their inability to lie was one of them. As it was, she simply waved for him to continue.

Instead, he took off his sunglasses.

This time, she couldn’t hold back her gasp.

His gaze, twin stars radiating more heat than the sun, pinned her as effectively as if he’d covered her body with his. She’d just started to picture it—hard flesh pressing on soft, lean muscles rubbing against sensitive curves, sharp fangs sinking into her and drawing pleasure throughout her body—when his raspy voice jerked her out of her self-induced trance.

“We’ll get there.”

It was a smoky promise, spoken so confidently that it pissed her off almost as much as it scared her.

“No. We won’t. And stop reading my mind.”

He smiled and leaned closer, his words for her alone. “I didn’t have to read your mind, love. You’re flushed and breathing hard, and I can see your tight little nipples even under that starchy shirt of yours. But I won’t tell if you won’t.” As he straightened, the small glimpse she got of his fangs made her wet.

Wetter.

She knew if she looked down, his cock would be lengthening as well.

Eyes still on hers, he commanded, “Tell her.”

Kyle’s answer, although swift, was accompanied by a glare that told her Knox wasn’t using his power of persuasion. “Knox has agreed to lead HRT Red.”

Felicia didn’t blink. She’d known Knox would accept the Bureau’s offer.

After all, it was his best hope for saving his clan.

And saving his clan motivated everything Knox did.

“He has a few conditions,” Kyle clarified.

She snorted. “Let me guess. Money. Lots of money.” She said it with no disdain.

All vamps, vampires and dharmires alike, craved money because they were sensualists. They loved soft, rich fabrics, beautiful accommodations, and quiet, powerful, sexy cars. Knox drove a black Audi TT with buttery seats that had had her panting the one time she’d been in it. Vamps were also reputed to be incredible lovers. Incredible skill. Incredible stamina.

She’d heard Noella’s ravings for years. But that had been before—

Guilt and grief combined, threatening to rip her apart. She forced her thoughts to the benign. Vamps. Wealth. Hedonism.

Yes, she supposed if she had to live for eternity drinking nothing but blood, she’d make up for it any way she could.

Hours of mind-blowing sex certainly was a good way to start.

Damn, she thought. You just can’t stay away from that, can you?

“The money’s not the problem,” Kyle said.

“There’s a problem?”

“That’s up to you.”

Automatically, her gaze jerked to Knox’s. He stared back at her, his expression blank but his eyes managing to radiate . . . anticipation? Satisfaction?

Both, she decided. Which made no sense.