Vampire's Faith

  Her breasts grew heavy.

  He twisted his wrist and slid his thumb across her lower lip.

  She could turn her head, but her body’s reaction to him kept her immobile. With just his soft touch, she turned into one throbbing mass of need. Nerves she hadn’t known existed pulsed and ached. Demanded. Him. There was certainly something between them. Unless all vampire-demon hybrids caused this reaction in women. It was possible. “Pheromones,” she muttered.

  He smiled, his eyes clearing like the sky after a brutal storm. She stopped thinking, fully entranced.

  The car rolled to a stop.

  He sighed. “We’ll discuss this later.” Opening the door to an alley behind a long, dilapidated brick building, he stepped out with her still in his arms and then gently set her down. He shut the car door. “Stay behind me, and if I tell you to run, you do it.”

  The car took off down the alley, spraying water on each side.

  She shivered. The alley was chilly and damp, and mud puddles dotted the entire stretch. In front of them was a gray metallic, very battered, heavy door. Other back doors were visible as well, but most of those at least had a business name above them.

  This one was blank.

  Ronan scanned the entire area and then focused on the door. He strode forward and grasped the handle, pulling. The door opened with a loud creak.

  “This is a bad idea,” Faith said, backing away.

  Ronan held out a hand. “I can sense vampires inside. No Kurjans.”

  That was supposed to be comforting? She shook her head.

  Ronan’s gaze leveled on her. “Come, Faith. It’s safe.”

  She swallowed and looked down the long alley. It was so far to a main street.

  “You won’t make it,” he said, echoing her thoughts. “Now, Faith.”

  Getting tackled in an alley held little appeal to her. No way could she outrun him. Maybe there’d be help inside the business. It wasn’t as if she had a choice. Glaring at him, she moved closer, ignoring his outstretched hand.

  He sighed and clasped her hand anyway, pulling her inside an unlit room. The smell of bleach and booze assailed her.

  The door clanged shut, and complete darkness fell.

  A gun cocked.

  Ronan set her behind him and backed up until she was pressed between his hard body and the door. “Show yourself, vampire,” he growled.

  The lights came on. The room appeared to be a small entryway with shelves of paper towels, toilet paper, and cleaning supplies on each side. Faith peered around Ronan’s huge torso.

  Two men stood near the far door, both holding green guns. They were each well over six-feet tall and tough looking. One guy was blond with blue eyes, and the other had sparkling metallic eyes and longish brown hair.

  The guy with metallic, colorful eyes studied Ronan and then lowered his gun, rushing forward for a hug that sounded like a tackle. “It’s you. Shit. It’s really you,” he said, clapping Ronan on the back hard enough to echo throughout the entire room. “I’m glad to see you, but…”

  Ronan hugged the guy back and then pushed him. “Benny. I never thought I’d see you again.”

  The emotion in his tone caught Faith around the throat. She sidled out from behind him.

  Benny’s eyebrows rose. “You brought a girl.”

  “My mate.” Ronan grasped her hand and slowly drew her forward. “Dr. Faith Cooper, please meet Benjamin Henry Reese. One of my oldest friends.”

  Benny held out a hand the size of a dinner platter. “Mate? No kidding. Hi.”

  Faith accepted the handshake that swallowed her up to the wrist, grateful the giant was gentle. This close, the metallic colors in his eyes turned green and black. Fascinating. “Um, hello.” Now probably wasn’t the time to dispute the whole mate issue.

  Benny looked her up and down while pumping her hand. “Wow. It’s nice to meet you. A mate. Man, you have a lot to explain, Ronan.” He grinned.

  Ronan gently pulled her away. “As do you.”

  Benny sobered. “Yeah. Good point.” He jerked his head toward the blond guy. “Ivar Kjeidsen. He was Igor’s brother, and we swore him in as a Seven upon the Viking’s death. He lived through the ceremony. I’m thinking there must be something genetic about it, since more than a couple of you have had family members survive.”

  A real Viking? And wait a minute. Survive? “How many people live through your Seven ceremony?” Faith asked.

  Benny faltered. “Not many. Bad percentage. Talk for later, actually. Anyway. Ronan, Ivar.”

  Ronan reached to shake Ivar’s hand. “My condolences on your brother’s death. He was a fine warrior and an even better friend.” Raw emotion lumbered in his voice.

  “Thank you,” Ivar said, his tone low. “Igor spoke highly of you. Very.”

  Benny and Ivar shared an odd look.

  “What?” Ronan asked, taking Faith’s hand. She allowed him to keep it, glad of an ally in this odd new world. These guys were freakin’ huge, and there was an energy all around that she could feel. Definitely odd and… what? Supernatural?

  Benny sighed. “Let’s get you all caught up on the world as it is today.”

  “I’ve been researching on the Internet but have much knowledge still to seek.” Ronan’s tone was a low rumble. “I must find my family.”

  Benny opened the far door. “Yeah. We’re gonna need vodka for this talk. A lot of it.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ronan ignored the unease prickling down his back and took a seat in a booth at the far end of the dark establishment, settling Faith inside against the wall. Tables were strewn throughout, and many bottles lined mirrored shelves behind a long, handcrafted wooden bar. At this early hour, only a couple of hunched-over drinkers sat toward the door, so no threats loomed near. The place smelled of alcohol and sweat. Just like the taverns of his youth. “Nice place.”

  “Thank you,” Ivar said, sitting across from him and next to Benny, motioning for a waitress.

  A young lass hurried over with a bottle of Tsarskaya Gold vodka, narrow glasses, and a plate of pickled cucumbers next to small open-faced sandwiches.

  Ivar poured four shots and handed them out. “Many of my family were Russian—distant family, really. Vodka is a good way to celebrate and plan.” He held a glass up. “Za zda-ro-vye.”

  “To your health,” Ronan replied automatically, tipping his head back and downing the alcohol while the others did the same. Delicious. Ah, he’d missed alcohol. Then he took the traditional piece of pickled cucumber and bit in, his focus narrowing, and his heart already aching with the sure pain to come. “Give me the bad news, Ben. I felt deaths through our connections, and since they’re not here…”

  Benny kept his gaze, his eyes somber. “Jacer died in 1710.”

  Hearing the words was like a boot to the gut. His biological brother—the middle one. The one they’d left on earth along with four other of the Seven. Ronan absorbed the pain and allowed the rawness to cut into every nerve. He’d been grieving for centuries, but hearing the confirmation was like slicing open an old wound and letting it bleed again. Somehow, even though he hadn’t wanted to admit it, he’d known Jacer was one of the fallen. “How did he die?” The words came out hoarse.

  “War,” Ivar said simply, pouring four more shots. “One of many between the immortal forces. He was killed by the Cyst general, Omar, who we’ve been seeking since. Even though the Cyst didn’t participate in the last war, Omar came hunting us. Used the war and confusion to get to us. The fucker has gone underground.”

  Just the name sent Ronan’s fury into a raw burn. “I should’ve killed him before entering the shield.” He’d fought Omar’s troops more than once, and he’d wanted nothing more than to cut off the head of the snake by killing the Cyst general. He wasn’t the leader, but he was the head soldier for the Cyst. The bastard wa
s pure evil and enjoyed the killing.

  Ivar shook his head, anger burning in his gaze. “Timing was too important, as I’ve learned. We will find Omar. I give you my word.”

  “Agreed,” Ronan said, studying this Viking descendant he’d never met. One who’d also lost a biological brother in addition to shield brothers. Igor had been a good warrior. Ronan took his shot of alcohol. The time to grieve would have to come later. “To fallen brothers. All of them.”

  Ivar lifted his chin, sharing the pain in his eyes. Grief filled the air around them. “Our brothers.”

  They drank again.

  Faith tipped back her drink, watching quietly. Beneath the table, she took Ronan’s free hand, her soft touch settling him. Easing his pain just enough that he could breathe again. “I’m sorry about your brother,” she said. “And yours.” She nodded at Ivar.

  Ivar smiled. “Thank you.”

  Jacer dead. The idea was unthinkable. “My line has died out here?” Ronan asked quietly. There were no Kayrs members protecting the world?

  “No,” Benny said. “There’s a shit-ton of you assholes running around.” Then he grinned the smart-ass smile Ronan remembered well. “Jacer had two kids who died in the last war. But one of his sons, Hunter, had five boys before moving to the great beyond. The oldest, Dage, is King of the Realm now.”

  Five boys? Hope leaped into Ronan’s chest. He had family. Thank God. Jacer would live on in his descendants.

  Benny’s eyes twinkled. “They live on a lake in Idaho.”

  Ronan straightened. He didn’t care where Idaho might be. “Are they good warriors?”

  “Of course,” Benny said, pouring more shots. “Was there ever a doubt about that?”

  Excellent point. Ronan downed his next shot, noting that Faith was wobbling a little after her third. “You don’t have to keep up, sweetheart.” Russians never left a bottle with alcohol in it, and if Ivar wanted to drink the Russian way, they’d drink until it was empty. Those Vikings always could drink, and Ivar seemed in his element. “Slow down,” Ronan murmured to his mate.

  She just blinked.

  Okay. So he had family. He adjusted his current strategy accordingly as he gathered more knowledge. Now was for intel. Fighting would come later. “What about the second shield or dimension? Since mine shattered, we can assume Quade’s will as well. Then the prison shall fail—and Ulric will return.”

  “Could’ve already happened.” Benny shook his head. “We didn’t even know yours had broken until you sent that message, and here you are.”

  Ivar poured more drinks, leaving Faith’s empty this time. “I have a line on a couple of physics experts. It’s time we figured out exactly how the ritual created those other dimensions, and why they broke. I’ll take care of that issue. You two deal with the others.”

  “Others?” Ronan asked.

  Benny sighed. “Besides Jacer and Igor, we lost Zylo Kyllwood in the last war. The Seven is still down two members, and we need to get up to full speed.”

  Having the shield brotherhood complete had to be their top priority. “Did Kyllwood have progeny?” Ronan asked, his heart taking another hit. Too many of his brothers had died while he’d been trapped in another damn dimension.

  “Three nephews,” Benny said. “One is leading the demon nation, so he’s out. The middle one, Sam…is destined for something else. I’d like to have the youngest one, a hell of a fighter and rather gifted. Name is Logan.” Benny tipped back another shot. “Best friends with one Garrett Kayrs, who has a power I’ve never seen before. Has barely come into it. I want them both to round out the Seven.”

  Kayrs? Ronan straightened. “You want someone else from my family?” Hadn’t his family sacrificed enough for the Seven? Perhaps it was time to protect Jacer’s descendants.

  “Yes. Garrett is involved in Realm business and has ties to every other species on the planet. He’s intelligent, well trained, and tough as I’ve ever seen.” Ivar sat back, his gaze earnest. “Even among immortals, he’s something unique. Special. He should be part of the Seven. I feel he’d survive the ritual.”

  Then he would be in the minority. “If he’s a Kayrs, he should be surrounded by family right now as we speak,” Ronan countered. “The existence of the Seven isn’t known to anybody else, and we have to keep it that way.” He wasn’t going into details with Faith there. Sometimes values had to be sacrificed for the end result. Whether one liked it or not.

  “I’m sure the kid can keep a secret,” Ivar countered. “He’s been through a war already.”

  Benny poured yet more shots. “I have dossiers on Garrett and Logan, as well as several other candidates, and we can vote until we agree on who to invite and who might want to risk their lives by joining us. Or attempting to, anyway. We have to get them in place now that the child has been born.”

  Ronan stopped breathing. He sat back. “She’s been born? The female vampire?” Were the legends really true? Was it possible?

  “Yeppers,” Benny said, throwing his head back for another shot of vodka. “Name is Hope Kayrs-Kyllwood.”

  Heat and then chills swept Ronan. His heart thudded. Hard. “She’s a Kayrs?” he whispered reverently. Not once had he even considered the possibility. The prophesied female vampire, the one and only, shared his blood?

  “Yes,” Ivar said, remaining perfectly still, much as his brother always had. “Her birth must’ve somehow triggered the destruction of your dimensional bubble. Correct?”

  A female vampire. That would do it. “Possibly,” Ronan said, his belly warming from his seventh shot of vodka. “I truly do not know.” Nor did it matter. She was alive. Legends were true.

  Benny poured yet another round, this time including Faith again. Apparently the vampire thought she’d had enough of a reprieve. She sat quietly, watching and listening, her eyes a little unfocused. “Hope is a cute little thing too. Turned seven years old just a few months ago,” Benny said.

  The special one was just a child. Ronan shook his head to regain his bearings. “This means we can take down Ulric. Finally.” So far, the prophets had been correct. A female vampire had been born. Were there any updated prophesies since she’d become a reality? Ronan blinked again. The vodka was taking effect, and he still had not acquired all the details. “Have you found the Keys?”

  “No,” Benny said shortly. “But since the female vampire is alive, so are they. We will find them.”

  Faith finished her shot and sagged a little against Ronan. “Keys are alive? How is that? Huh?”

  Good lord. He’d let her get blotto. Gently, he removed the shot glass from her hand. “Yes. They’re women with Enchanted blood, and we must find all three of them.” He tugged her close, and she let him, closing her eyes. Raising his glass, he looked at his friends. He had expected to be dead when Ulric escaped. Destiny had other plans, apparently. “It’s time.”

  Finally.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Faith awoke slowly in a comfortable bed, her brain fuzzy, her temples aching. Vaguely, she remembered heading upstairs and taking a hot shower. Her hair had dried and she blew it out of her face. She stretched against the smooth sheets and halted quickly. Something hard and hot was at her back. Her eyelids flipped open as she came fully awake.

  She was tucked into Ronan’s body, her butt to his groin, her back to his chest. One of his heavy arms was banded around her waist, and his nose was pressed against her nape as he slept. Even fully relaxed behind her, he felt like solid rock.

  Surrounded by lava.

  Man, he gave off heat. She couldn’t remember a time she’d been so toasty warm.

  She didn’t recall coming to bed. So much for trying to go toe to toe with vampires when it came to drinking. Or demons. Or hybrids. Whatever Ronan was, he could outdrink her. Not much of a surprise. At least she still had on her T-shirt and panties. Wait a minute. She looked aroun
d an antique-riddled bedroom to see her bra, jeans, and shoes on a settee. He’d taken off her bra.

  She reached for his arm to push it away and his hold tightened. “You’re awake,” she muttered.

  “Humph.” He snuggled closer into her, his lips pressing against her sensitive nape.

  “You removed my bra,” she said, trying not to shiver. Nope. A shiver took her, right from her neck to her toes. How did he do that?

  “Figured you shouldn’t wear it to bed,” he murmured sleepily, his lips moving against her skin. “I didn’t look.”

  Need rolled right through her, just from his mouth, and she tamped it down. He didn’t look? Really? Right. “Then how did you get it off?”

  “I snapped the ties at your shoulders and pulled it down with your jeans. Broke it.”

  “That’s not okay.” She jabbed an elbow back into his rib cage.

  “Woman,” he protested, pulling her closer into his impossibly packed body. “No hitting in the morning.”

  Desire caught her around the throat and slid through her veins. She had to get away from him. “Let me go.” She started to struggle.

  He sighed and released her. “You were a great deal more pliable last night.”

  “Last night I passed out,” she countered, scooting to the other side of the bed. The sheets chilled her and she curled her knees up.

  “Yeah. You were quiet and nice. I may feed you vodka more often.” Amusement filtered through his tone.

  She rolled over to face him, ready to give him hell. One look and the words froze in her mouth. A shadow covered his angled jaw, and sleep had tousled his black hair. His eyes had turned an intriguing greenish-blue, adding a mystical element to his hard-cut features. The sheet had been pushed to his waist, revealing his bare and muscled chest.

  Her mouth started to water. It just wasn’t fair. Nobody should look that good in the morning. Ever.

  He watched her, not moving, a predator completely at home in his own skin. “I’ll buy you a new bra.”

  “With what?” she ground out, her skin way too tight all of a sudden.