Dark Secrets (2 page)

“I think you cracked a few when Eli tackled you,” he said.

Exhaustion took hold and the smile I’d conjured faded. “A
small price to pay for not burning to death. I’ll heal in an hour or so.”

Micah turned to his brother. “Can you shift back?”

Eli whined, sat on his haunches and shook his large head. A
long pink tongue lolled out of the side of his snout and drool dripped, adding
to the water pooling in the cracks and crevasses of the ruined floor.

Micah opened his mouth but quickly shut it when the pounding
of paws accented by the scrambling of claws against the wood flooring out in
the hall stopped us all in our tracks.

“Shit,” Micah muttered and swept a hand through his wet
hair, pushing the too-long strands out of his face.

Locks be damned, the heavy oak doors burst open and eight
snarling werewolves bounded into the room. Their silver-blue fur was the same
shade as Eli’s. Claws scratched and slipped along the now ruined floorboards.

If only the former queen could see what we’d done to her
sprawling Victorian sanctuary. The once frilly pink and yellow parlor was now a
combat training center. Gleaming Silverstone knives replaced rose-decorated
wallpaper. Guns in dark oak cabinets stood where girly dressing and vanity
tables had once been.

Because I was the one who’d killed her—not painfully enough,
considering what she’d done to my sister—I’d inherited her throne when she’d
met with the pointy end of the makeshift stake I’d plunged into her heart. I’d
also gained control over her secluded fortress nestled deep in the forest and
an elite pack of bloodthirsty feral werewolves known as the Fenrir.

Considering these elite combat-ready wolves had kidnapped my
sister, taken her to the queen and nearly killed Eli, no one was happy with our
live-in roommates.

The largest of the Fenrir strutted ahead of the pack. Eiven’s
shoulder blades rose and fell while muscles rippled under fur. He prowled the
room, searching for the external threat before he approached me.

Vampire Queen and Demon Son—together they will wreak
havoc and total destruction.
So far, the ancient prophecy hadn’t been wrong.
Where Micah and I went, destruction reigned. Only the telling wasn’t quite
adequate—the mayhem referred to the demon son Micah and I would one day
produce. A shudder ripped through me at the thought of being a mother—of the
added responsibility of caring and protecting another person.

The air rippled with a crackling, touchable energy. The
bright light I’d seen when Eli shifted filled the room. Mid stride, Eiven
transformed into a large, very well-built, naked man.

I jerked my gaze up from his partially hard cock to his ice-blue
eyes and tried my best to hide the blush heating my cheeks. Damn werewolves and
their utter disregard for public nudity. All the shifters I’d met seemed to
possess a feral sexuality that drew you in and left you wanting. Animal magnetism
at its finest.

“Are you hurt?” Eiven asked, his attention darting from the
car-sized hole in the wall back to me. His blue eyes flashed, morphing to
amber. He moved his gaze over my wet skin and licked his lips.

A low, rumbling growl left Micah and he grabbed my arm to
pull me behind him. “She’s fine, wolf, we’ve got it under control.”

I’d learned over the last couple of weeks that alpha demon
males didn’t like naked men around their mates. The girly part of myself I
tried to repress preened—not that I’d ever admit that aloud. Up on my tiptoes,
so I could see over Micah’s shoulder, I flicked my gaze down Eiven’s broad
shoulders. The dark, springy hair covering his chest narrowed into a single
line that ran down the center of his rippling eight-pack.

“My queen,” Eiven said, stepping closer.

My gaze jerked up to meet his smirk.

He smoothed his thumb across his moist lower lip. “We should
summon your sire.”

“God, no!” Micah and I shouted at the same time.

Julian, my sire and ex-lover, was the last person I wanted
to talk to. “Everything is fine, Eiven, you can leave. We’re redecorating. I
wanted an indoor swimming pool.”

No one moved.

I stepped out from behind Micah. He crossed his arms over
his chest, his impressive biceps bulging, and glared at the packmaster. Two
weeks ago, Micah would have grabbed my hand, maybe even drawn it up to his
mouth and brushed his soft lips against my knuckles. Not today. The division
between us slammed into my gut.

The something off between us was back and it kept me from
reaching out to him despite the closeness we’d just shared minutes ago.
Squaring my shoulders and lifting my head, I capitalized the “B” in “bitch”. “Go.
Away.”

Eiven bowed—his actions less formal and more a mockery. “As
you wish.” He addressed the wolves milling around the room, their snouts to the
ground taking in as many scents as they could. “Come.”

He turned, showing off the wolf insignia inked into the skin
on his back and upper shoulders. He walked through the door, the muscles in his
back and ass flexing with each step. Behind him, the Fenrir followed obediently
one by one.

“Are you joining us, Elijah?” Eiven asked over his shoulder,
his tone bristling with what sounded like annoyance.

I glanced at Eli, at the way he turned up his snout. Even though
he was in wolf form, his soulful amber eyes conveyed his resentment crystal
clear. Eiven might not have been the one to infect him with lycanthropy, but
one of them had. The pack ate together, slept together, fucked together and
killed together. They only separated for patrols—a job they’d taken in my stead
until I figured out my little soul-blackening dilemma.

Without another word, Eiven strode into the hall.

“I hate that guy,” Micah grumbled and dropped his hands to
his side. “Are you sure we can’t get rid of him?”

I shook my head. “I’ve tried, they won’t leave. The Fenrir
are in the service to the royal family for, oh, I don’t know, another hundred
years. Apparently they take their promises seriously.”

Micah shook his head. “Don’t use the word ‘service’ in the
same sentence as Eiven. The thought of him touching you…”

“Touching me? Yah, I don’t think so. His job is to protect
me. End of story.”

“You’re delusional, babe. One of the wolves, Ja-air, let it
slip that Lizbeth used them for more than just elite bodyguards. They, and I
mean the entire pack, serviced her needs in and out of the bedroom.”

Images of pre-pubescent girls, because that was what Lizbeth
was in appearance, and massive wolves flashed through my brain. All of them
made me want to vomit. “The entire pack? Like, at once?”

Micah frowned at me as if he knew I was trying to figure out
the logistics of eight dicks and only a few holes. Vagina. Ass. Mouth. Ear?

“Does it matter?” he asked, sounding as disgusted as I felt.

I shook my head, hoping to dislodge my derailing thoughts. “The
little sadist probably got off on group orgies.”

“I’d rather not guess at all. How old did you say she
looked? Fourteen?”

“Her little-girl charm knew no bounds.” Vomit churned in my
belly. “Let’s not talk about it.”

I turned to Micah and hesitantly smoothed a hand up his
chest. Would he push me away? Would he make an excuse and leave? I—an action
girl at heart—was having a hard time with waiting patiently for him to come
around and fuck the living daylights out of me. Honestly, I was shocked I’d
made it this long. I’d found stubbornness trumped patience.

I curled my fingers around the nape of his neck and pressed
close. Warmth tingled through my veins and a burst of energy filled me at the
jolts electrifying my skin where we touched. I didn’t think I’d ever get tired
of how it felt to touch him.

His eyes darkened into a shade more blue than green and he
cupped my hips. The single, simple caress made me throb. The heat between us
turned into fire. As if he felt it too, he tightened his grip and brought me
against the hard ridge of his cock. I rubbed my belly against his steel length
with a little purr.

My insides went liquid with want. Two weeks without
sex—Micah’s doing, not mine—felt like an eternity. I needed him. Needed this.
Needed to know he still desired me. When he touched me, the doubts I had
surrounding the bond and whether Micah would choose to be with me or not
vanished.

He dipped his head to mine and traced his tongue along my
lower lip, flicked the bow of my upper one. On a moan, my eyes fell shut and I
closed the distance between our mouths.

My stomach clenched in a wave of arousal at the first slow,
wet slide of our tongues tangling. Whatever reasons Micah had for keeping me at
arm’s length no longer seemed to matter. He slid his hand around my waist,
lower to cup my ass in his palm. The slinky material of my workout shorts crept
up, higher and higher, as Micah kneaded my flesh.

He nipped my lower lip, growled and chased forward to resume
a kiss so potent I felt it in the depths of my soul. One awkward step at a
time, he forced us back until my spine hit something solid—a wall maybe. I
cupped the back of his head with both hands, threaded my fingers through his
silky hair and tugged. The kiss turned feral. Teeth clanked and nipped. Lips
bruised while our tongues tussled. All the pent-up sexual frustration I’d been
carrying exploded.

Eli chuffed, and Micah and I turned, limbs and legs tangled,
mid-kiss, to stare at him. Damn. I’d forgotten he was in the room. Even in
canine form, the annoyance in his gaze came across loud and clear. He looked
pointedly at the hole in the wall, then back at Micah with another snort.

Micah gently removed my hands from his hair and stepped
back. The man wasn’t even winded, unlike me—I felt like I couldn’t catch my
breath—guess that meant I wasn’t getting lucky. Why did the karma gods hate me?

“Right,” I said, not even trying to hide my pissed-offness.

I smoothed down the shorts that had ridden up my crotch. My
trial was coming up. I waited for Micah’s go-to excuse.
Babe, we need to
focus.
Innocent or not, we needed proof that I hadn’t broken my oath. A
simple blood test wouldn’t show Micah was part demon, he’d been seeing Agency
doctors all his life.

We needed something concrete.

My skin prickled along the side untouched by the fireball
and I turned to the sensation. Since my transition into full vampire, I was
more sensitive to other supernatural beings. Castro, a demon lord and strangely
enough, one of Micah’s good friends, walked into the room and looked around at
the destruction with boredom, as if this was a familiar sight. I suppose where
Micah and I were concerned, nothing surprised him.

“Redecorating again, I see,” Castro said, his British accent
sexafying his words.

I glanced at Micah and glared. “He threw a fireball at my
head.”

Micah scowled at me, the skin around his eyes wrinkling. “On.
Accident.”

Castro studied us for a long moment, gaze bouncing back and
forth. Gray tendrils of opaque smoke curled from beneath the cuffs of a
tailored pinstriped suit that clung to his tall—like almost-to-the-ceiling
tall—muscular body. With his black, shoulder-length hair pulled back, he was,
as usual, all business. My skin itched from the waves of otherworldly energy he
emitted and I rubbed my arms to help ease the sensation.

Castro settled his focus on Micah. “Let me see your hand.
Your demonic powers are emerging—I wondered when that would happen.”

Micah, who was still coming to terms with his own otherness,
reluctantly held out his arm. Castro took it in his and traced a finger across
the pattern etched into Micah’s palm, a mark that hadn’t been there before the
immolation attempt.

Castro looked up, met Micah’s gaze. Emotion I couldn’t name
filled the demon’s gaze.

“What does it mean?” I asked, my anger fading under the
weight of curiosity.

“Remarkable,” Castro whispered.

A strange kind of tension filled the room and I wasn’t sure
how to categorize it, or where it was coming from. Micah? Castro? The demon
lord had the ability to alter one’s emotions and I wondered if he was
projecting his feelings.

Castro stepped back. He smiled, his lips spreading to show a
line of straight, white teeth. The man, in all his gorgeousness, would make
killer toothpaste commercials.

“Why are you here?” Micah asked, his shoulders tense and his
voice tight.

Castro’s wattage never dimmed. “I tried to call, but no one
was picking up their phones. I’ve got new information about your mother.”

“New?” I asked, looking between them.

Micah’s ramrod body told me something was amiss. A niggling
sense of unease wormed its way inside me. I stared at Micah as if he’d grown a
second head. The longer he stayed silent, the more my thoughts spun. When had
it become old? With our peek-a-boo bond and ability to see into each other’s
heads when we made love, we didn’t keep information to ourselves.

When no one answered me, I crossed my arms under my chest
and spoke louder. Just in case they hadn’t heard me before. “What’s he talking
about? What about your mom?”

Micah, who was already stiff, went rigid. He avoided my gaze
and glared at Castro with such fierce heat I feared the demon might
spontaneously combust. When Micah spoke, it was through clenched teeth. “You
should’ve left a message.”

Warning bells went off in my head and for some strange
reason, I had a flashback of Julian arguing with one of his go-to guys when we’d
dated. My sire’s tone had been an exact replica of Micah’s.

Castro glanced between us, his perfect face now marred by
lines of confusion wrinkling his brow.
Join the fucking club.
He too
crossed his arms over his chest.

“This isn’t something you leave on a voicemail. I’ve finally
pinpointed your mother’s whereabouts. Time is of the essence if we are to rescue
her before Ella’s trial.”