“No. Should I be?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to hurt me?”
“No.”
“Then what’s to fear?”
That baffled look on his face was worth the headache she hoped would fade quickly once her body adjusted to being upright again.
“Me.”
“You just said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“You’re human.” He sniffed. “Very much so. I’m not, and you know it.”
“I was raised by a Vampire.” She frowned. “I’m kind of over the other thing. VampLycans have a reputation of being honorable. My grandfather trusted your kind without question. I trust him. Therefore, it’s not that much of a stretch to trust you. So no, I’m not afraid of you. You’d have let that woman make the call for someone to put me six feet under if you planned to take me out.”
He grimaced. “We don’t really kill humans. She was messing with you. Your grandfather raised you? I’m sorry.”
“He’s a great guy. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
He gripped her chin with a big calloused hand, turning her head from side to side. “I don’t see the scars. I take it he was careful not to leave any.”
“He rarely bit me.” She frowned. “Rarely as in, I can only remember three times. I wasn’t his food source. I’m his granddaughter.”
“Three times too many.”
Anger surged and she jerked away from his hold. She lifted her hand and held up a finger. “The first time was when we were on the run in the mountains and it was so cold all the animals were gone from the area. He needed enough blood to make sure we both survived. He carried me for a ton of miles, three nights in a row, by the way.” She added another finger. “The second time was when we lived in a city and some Vamps grew suspicious of us. He bit me so they could see the marks, to fool them into thinking I was a blood slave when they came for a visit. They don’t like humans and Vamps living together otherwise, and he sure couldn’t tell them we were related.” She lifted a third finger. “Then there was four days ago, when we were surrounded, and he did it again to fool them into thinking I was his slave. I’m not his food source. He loves me.”
He arched one eyebrow. “Fine. He’s a saintly bloodsucker. That’s pretty rare. Why are they after you? Why do you need to be protected?”
“My grandpa broke away from his own nest to save me. They’ve been searching for us ever since.”
“What’s the whole story?” He crossed his arms. “I deserve to know what I’ve gotten into.”
She hesitated. “My mother was like you…a VampLycan. My grandfather put her and a few others like her in safe locations after they left Alaska. Not everyone remained here when the Werewolves decided the first-generation VampLycans didn’t need them sticking around.”
“That’s not true.”
“What part?” She cocked her head, staring at him. “That Werewolves left after the first of your kind hit their teens and started taking over? Or that the packs felt unwelcome here?”
“All VampLycans stayed.”
“You’re wrong. My mother didn’t. And there were a few more like her who wanted to stick with their mothers in a pack, but that didn’t work out well. I guess within a year or so, they parted ways. It was a dominance thing, making the packs confused on who to follow. My grandfather found them what he thought would be a safe place in a tiny community outside of a much larger city. He looked out for them…until Vampires attacked one night.”
The big guy in front of her scowled. “Why would he care?”
“My mother was his daughter, and the others were VampLycans he’d known since their births. He wanted to protect them. He chose to save me rather than just allow me to die when the Vampires came after my mother and the other VampLycans. His nest went against his orders to leave us in peace, and they brought in another nest to overwhelm them with sheer numbers.”
“What about your mother?”
“She knew she couldn’t fight them all off with me in her arms. The risk was too great that I’d die. I was only four. She created a diversion instead that allowed my grandfather enough time to get me to safety. He was older than all the other Vampires and could outrun them with me in his arms. Plus, he wasn’t their target.”
His features softened. “I’m sorry. I take it she didn’t make it?”
“No.” The pain always existed for Emma when remembering her mother. “She and the other three VampLycans never showed up at the mountain retreat my grandfather owned. That was where they’d always planned to go if anything happened. We waited for two years, until his nest got too close searching for us, before we moved on. She’d have come if she’d survived. We had hope at first that she had escaped without me burdening her.”
He sniffed again. “You smell completely human.”
“My father was one, but I have a few special traits.”
Skepticism widened his eyes. “What kind? You’re small and look very weak.”
“Wow. That wasn’t insulting at all.” She scowled.
He frowned back. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
Emma wanted to snort but refrained, considering she needed his help. “I don’t transform or anything. I can see better than normal people do at night. My hearing is keener than average and I’m stronger than a typical human. I also heal way faster than a human does. It was hell hiding those things in school.”
“You went to school?”
“I needed an education. Grandpa sent me to school.”
He gawked a little. “With humans?”
“Who else? Ever heard of a special school that accepts someone like me? I was really young when I lost my mother.”
His gaze lowered down her body. “What other traits did you inherit?” He suddenly bit his finger and grabbed her jaw with his other hand. He waved the bleeding digit beneath her nose. “Smell the blood? Open your damn mouth.”
Shock over his actions made it fall open, more than his command. He bent, peered inside. “No fangs protruding.” He glanced up at the sky before studying her bare arms. He released her. “You’re not burning from the sun.”
“I don’t have any Vampire traits, besides the quick healing. I could have gotten that from the Werewolf side though.”
“Stop calling us that. We’re part Lycan.”
Emma made a mental note. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. Grandpa said you guys like the older term for what you are. I’ll try to remember. Anyway, I heal faster. I broke my arm in two places when I was seven. The doctor said I’d be in a cast for months. Grandpa took me in for a checkup two weeks later and the doctor nearly had a fit when he discovered the breaks had completely healed. Grandpa had to order him to remove the cast, and then wipe his memory of ever meeting me.”
“Do you grow fur at all?”
“No. I said I don’t transform.”
He caught her hand next, examining the tips of her fingers. She allowed it. She’d be staying with him and figured he had a right to know what he was getting into. It would be a good assumption he’d have to worry about his neck if she had Vampire traits. Most of them were horrible creatures who tended to bite into anything alive. Her grandfather was an exception. He was a powerful master, created by someone thousands of years old, and in control of his urges.
“I don’t have claws.”
He released her hand. “Do you have any more traits?”
She hesitated. “I’m forty years old.”
Shock paled his features. “You appear half that.”
“I’m aging slower. It’s a bitch getting carded at bars, especially since fake IDs are getting more difficult to obtain with modern technology.”
He made a soft growl sound. “I’m aware.”
“You have that problem too? How old are you?” She didn’t notice any wrinkles on his face. He appeared about thirty at most but looks were deceiving with other beings. He could be pushing a hundred or two. Her grandfather was over four centuries old but he got carded b
uying his cigars. Of course, her grandfather would never age in looks. VampLycans did, but it was much slower pace than humans unless their Vampire traits were unusually strong.
“Older than you.” He glanced around the woods. “Let’s go. It will be dark in an hour and I want you inside.”
“The Vamps won’t be able to track me here. I was careful, used fake IDs, paid for everything in cash, and followed my grandfather’s plan. He’s very smart.”
He snorted. “I don’t trust Vampires, even that one. My father and he were friends, but it’s been eighty years since they’ve had contact. Things and people change.”
“I’m sorry about your dad.”
He lifted her bag and gripped her arm. “Move.”
“Did he die of old age? Grandpa never said if he was a VampLycan or a Lycanthrope.”
That question earned her a warning snarl. “He died in battle. And we’re called Lycans. Not Lycanthropes. Stop using that term too. Walk or I will carry you.”
“Fine.” She tried to keep pace with his much longer strides. “You’re at war? With what?”
“Not anymore, but there was a time when we had issues with another VampLycan clan.”
She let that sink in. “There’s more than one?”
“Four. Enough questions.”
The spot he was taking her to came into view and she grimaced. It reminded her of one of those old mud homes she’d read about in history books. It was a rounded mound of dirt with grass and bushes covering what would pass for the roof. The only sign that it wasn’t just a small hill of dirt was the metal door hidden under part of the overhanging branches. He unlocked the thick door with a combination lock, similar to those on an old bank safe, and threw it open.
Instead of furniture, the room stood empty except for a large metal hatch in the center of the dirt floor. She paused at the entrance.
“Do you need to be carried?”
“You live underground?”
“Yes.”
“Shit. You have an actual den? I’m guessing your Lycan traits are more prominent. Please tell me you have indoor plumbing.”
“Move.”
She entered the structure, hoping it didn’t collapse around her. Being buried alive didn’t sound like a great way to die. The smell of dirt hung heavy inside since the walls, ceiling, and floor were made of it, and he slammed the door behind them, throwing bolts. Some loose soil rained down from above. She turned, having to use her night vision to even make out his shadow since no sunlight penetrated the interior.
“No windows?”
“No. From the sky, this just looks like part of the ground.” He gripped her arm. “Can you see at all?”
“Not really. It’s pitch dark and you’re just a deeper shadow.”
“Fuck.” He sighed.
His shoulder hit her belly. The world turned upside down and she gasped over finding herself being carried once more. “You suck.”
“Shut up.”
He bent, the sound of metal creaked, and she assumed he had opened the floor hatch. Then he moved again, and she nearly fell off his shoulder as he proceeded to climb down. Part of her body bumped against the edge of the opening.
His feet made loud thuds on the metal and something slammed overhead. More bolts slid, sealing them inside. Some of the dirt smell faded. He carried her down at least twenty steps into deeper darkness. The chill became more noticeable as they went, and then he paused to open yet another door, sliding more bolts when it closed.
Lights blinded her when he turned them on.
She twisted her head to stare at the furniture. The room wasn’t big, only about ten feet by twenty, but it had a couch. A coffee table was placed in front of it, and as he dropped her back onto her feet, she got a better view.
Her gaze took it all in, saw the walls, and she swallowed hard. “Is this one of those old shipping containers? There’s enough air in here, right? We’re not going to suffocate?”
“There are air vents.”
“It’s a metal box.” Claustrophobia clawed at her. “It’s like a big coffin.”
He gripped her jaw. She had to turn her body to avoid having her neck painfully twisted. He bent enough to go nose to nose with her.
“This is my safe place. Bloodsuckers can’t breach it. We’re over twenty-three feet below ground from the roof and the lining of this den is thick. They can’t detect body heat at this depth. It also shields us from the GarLycans.” He let her go and stepped back.
“The what?”
He frowned. “GarLycans.”
“I have no idea what those are. I’ve never heard of them.”
“Gargoyle and Lycan mixed.”
Her mouth dropped open. “No shit? Gargoyles are real? Grandpa never mentioned them.”
Irritation stamped his features. “They exist. We aren’t at war with them, but we once worried it might happen.”
Emma let that information sink in. “What do Gargoyles look like?”
He snarled under his breath. “Unbelievable.”
“I was just asking. You don’t have to get bent out of shape. You grabbing my jaw is getting annoying too. Could you please stop doing that?”
He threw her bag on the couch. “There is your bed. Don’t try to leave.” He spun around and stomped into the small kitchenette. “I’m hungry. You eat meat, don’t you? You’re shit out of luck if you don’t. It’s all I have. I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Only if you cook it.” She was afraid he’d say that he didn’t. She’d barf if he handed her raw meat, especially if it was still moving.
He banged around the tiny kitchen. She spotted a full-sized fridge and felt grateful there was electricity inside the metal box. She turned her back on him, staring at the walls, ceiling, and floor. More details sank in. Her best guess was that once it had been some kind of large railway shipping container that he’d somehow managed to relocate into the middle of the woods. It had to have been a lot of effort to dig the hole to dump the thing into.
She hugged her middle and wondered how her grandfather was going to find her buried so deep in the earth. A shiver ran down her spine.
Red peered at the human casually studying his coffee table. Emma bent, touching the smooth stones he’d handpicked to create the top of it. He studied her form. She was a small thing and smelled completely human. She had also become his problem. He bit back a growl.
Cavasia would have a fit when she heard he’d taken off with a woman. He’d spotted a few of the clan on his way out of town and figured it was a good thing he didn’t get cell reception inside his den. There would be gossip. It would reach the other clans, and her.
So much for their discussion three months before about possibly living together. She’d be furious over him sharing space with someone else.
A human.
She might be part VampLycan, but it was so minimal that he couldn’t detect it by scent. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he pulled out steaks from the small fridge, slapped them into a large pan, and lit a fire beneath it. He could taste her, but she’d probably freak out if he bit into her to get a blood sample.
His father had raised him on battle stories about Malachi, the bloodsucker with a soul. He’d been one of the few Vampires who had refused to kill Lycans when the war broke out. Malachi had loved one enough to take their side. That Vampire helped the pack flee, and protected the women and children during the night hours.
He’d also fathered five children with the Lycan he’d taken as his companion and, according to Emma, her mother had been one of those offspring.
“You haven’t mentioned your father. What about him?”
She gazed at him. “I never met him. He and my mom weren’t together long. Grandpa said she didn’t want to put him at risk of discovering the truth.”
“Why did she decide to have you? Was her pregnancy an accident?”
She shot him a dirty look. “No. I wasn’t a ‘whoops’ baby. Mom wanted me. She knew her chances of finding a mat
e were slim to none, living with humans, and the only VampLycan male in our community wasn’t right for her. She met my father and decided to have a baby.”
He cleared his throat. “Where is your other family?”
Emma straightened up and her expression smoothed out. “It’s just my grandfather and I.”
He sealed his lips, not sure if she was aware of her aunts and uncles. His father had said some of Malachi’s children with his pureblood Lycan companion had become a danger to the clan. Their Vamp blood had come through stronger than their Lycan mother’s, and they’d chosen to live with nests when they’d reached adulthood. Emma’s mother must have taken after the Lycan side, if her father had tried to protect her. Malachi had told his father that his woman had died, the last time they’d been in contact.
He racked his brain for more information as he flipped the steaks. The smell made his belly rumble but he ignored it. His father had sworn a blood oath to the Vamp in thanks for helping the Lycans flee when the Vampires betrayed them and declared war. Malachi had stayed with them while they’d structured their new lives in Alaska.
Now that debt was left to Redson to repay. Malachi had also been a father figure to a lot of the first-generation VampLycan children, and had taught them how to fight.
Worry ate at him as he wondered if Peva would decide to tell their clan leader about Emma. Uncle Velder wouldn’t be happy about having her in their territory, and less thrilled with the fact that she was being sought by Vampires. It was doubtful that they’d launch a full-scale assault on Howl, but it depended on how badly they wanted to get Emma. The Vampires would lose, but some VampLycan lives could be lost if enough of them attacked at once.
“Why do the Vamps hunt you?”
She bit her lip. “I think mostly my grandfather’s old nest wants him to pay for abandoning them. He saved me instead of staying with them. His oldest Vampire really took it personal. My death would be the ultimate revenge.”
“Why?”
“Why did they take it personal? I think it’s mostly Eduardo’s fault. He was second in command and now leads them. He’s kind of a prick. Grandpa said he was jealous of my mom and the other VampLycans, always being a big pain in the ass over the nest coming second in priority instead of first.”