Devil's Mate (The Tribe MC: Chase of Prey Book 1) (3 page)

Part of her longed to have a deeper conversation; she wanted to talk about the rogue, and yet she was afraid to. Most guys were not suited to her and she knew it. They either freaked as soon as they saw the bikes in the driveway (one guy had even asked her if she was a part of the Hell’s Angels) or there was no way she could speak freely to them.

Being Rom meant a lot of things. Most people had no idea what Rom, or Romani was — they knew the more derogatory “gypsy.” Immediately she’d be pegged as a thief or a whore. Add in the fact that her father ran the most prolific motorcycle club in the city, and she had to shield herself carefully.

Guys usually thought that she was a gold-digger or easy, and even in a city known for its magic, she was an oddity. She hid her heritage carefully, but despite that, some others saw her anyway, like the fortune teller in the square.

Cara had no idea that Sebastian longed to have a deeper conversation too. Centuries of trying to find a woman to love, one who would accept him for
who
he was, not
what
he was, had left him cynical and bitter.

Until now. Cara was dredging up feelings best left in check. She was bringing out the protector in him, making him want to be someone else. That had not happened in a long time and he didn’t need it now, especially since she was likely a Hunter.

Wouldn’t that just figure? The first woman who had made his heart really feel something would be out to kill him if she knew who he was. What he was.

His fists clenched below the table even as he kept up his end of the conversation easily. His great-grandfather had been one of the original wolves, one of the first Fallen. Everyone knew that it was the damned Tribe that had cursed them, caused them to be creatures of the moon.

Not that he minded. Sebastian didn’t eat people; most of the Fallen didn’t. In the beginning they had, but there were too many alternatives now: blood banks and animals they raised specifically for hunting. They even had ranches out in the country to go to every full moon. Being a werewolf meant running wild and free under the silvery light of the moon, feeling the wind in his teeth and the earth below the pads of his paws.

Not that Hunters gave a shit if the wolves killed humans or just animals. The rogues had given all of the wolf packs a bad name and the Fallen was the worst of them all. Sebastian knew it was because they had the oldest wolves still running; many of them had gone mad or rogue out of simple boredom and blood longing.

He himself had never tasted human flesh, so he didn’t crave it, but those who had did. The rogue that had died tonight had been an old one, and he had loved to take humans before that had been forbidden by the Brand, head of the packs and Sebastian’s own father.

Cara had fallen silent. She gazed through the plate glass at the night moving on past the windows of the coffee shop.

“It reminds me of a carnival every time I look out there,” Sebastian said.

Cara’s head whipped around and a smile lit up her face. “It’s supposed to! It’s part of the city’s charm, after all. That and its magic. There’s real magic here. You can feel it on the very air.”

Sebastian felt it, and he smelled it, too. It did ride the currents of the air; it lingered in the old buildings and rose from the vast graveyards. How had she known that? Had she merely sensed it, or had the magic she possessed called her to this place? Did it speak to her… and if so, what did it say?

Again, a sense of uneasiness spiked through him. His gut was insisting that this woman was dangerous and he should leave her alone, but his body was ignoring that command. He was attracted to her in a way that went beyond the merely physical.

The night was coming down harder. The music grew louder as the bars cranked up. Cara knew she had to get home; her father would be worried if she stayed out too long. “Thanks for the coffee and the… the help,” she said.

Sebastian didn’t want her to go. He wanted to keep her around him, to hold her close. He wanted to embrace her, bury his face in her dark hair and see if it smelled as good as he imagined it did.

Cara was equally conflicted. She wanted to spend time with Sebastian. She wanted to put her hands out and touch those rock-hard abs of his, see if they were as strong as they looked. She wanted to feel his fingers on the long column of her spine, and elsewhere.

She wanted to kiss him, and be kissed by him. Her skin felt too tight, her clothes too restrictive. Her nipples chafed against her lacy bra and she wanted to rub them, to guide his hands to them…

His nostrils flared. Her face went hot. Could he sense her arousal? She had a feeling that he could and that made her feel not only vulnerable but even more excited. Her belly filled with butterflies.

“Would you like me to see you home?” he asked.

It was so wonderfully old-fashioned, that phrase. Her heart beat a little faster, pounding against her ribs. Shit, that was all she needed! As soon as he caught sight of the bikes…

“No, thanks. I’m okay.” She wasn’t — she was far from okay. There was a sense of loss and regret flooding through her. She did want him to see her home, and maybe even tuck her into bed.

Sebastian walked her as far as the end of the business district. They paused under a large magnolia tree, its white and waxy blossoms hanging over them, imparting their delicate scent. His fingers came out and touched the bottom of her jaw. A little shock ran through her, a sense of recognition that she couldn’t explain.

Her mouth parted and his lips came down on hers. His mouth was firm and soft all at the same time. His hands moved from under her jaw to her cheeks then wound around her neck, pulling her closer.

Her breasts flattened against his hard chest. She could smell the heavy oily reek of the rogue’s blood on him, and his own scent, a manly and rich aroma that made her lower body throb powerfully.

His tongue thrust into her mouth and hers met it. The kiss lengthened and deepened. The only sound was the sound of their breathing and the sighs that broke from them. They might have stayed that way forever. Cara wanted to, anyway, but a voice cut across their clinch and shattered its spell.

“Cara, what the hell are you doing?”

Sebastian stepped back, but he didn’t let her go. His arms wound around her and he nestled her into his side in a move so protective that her throat closed and her body sagged into the hard curve of his. It felt so right there, she felt like she had been made to fit into that space.

The only thing wrong was Ion, who was standing on the sidewalk glaring at her. His legs were spread, hands on his hips and anger visible on his face. His voice was filled with rage. “Your father was worried.”

“Ion, can you please back off?”

Cara felt Sebastian tense. She thought it was because Ion was acting like he was her boyfriend, which he absolutely wasn’t. She had no way of knowing that she had just given herself away when she named the young man glaring at her.

Ion. It was a Tribe name! Could Cara be Tribe?

He practically shoved her away from him. Cara stumbled and almost lost her balance. Ion reached for her and caught her, his face puckering, but Sebastian was gone.

CHAPTER 4

“The rogue is dead.”

A few people flinched at the words. A woman with bright red hair and eyes green as new grass turned to Sebastian, anger written on her pale face as she cried, “His name was Liam, dammit!”

“You know the rules, Moira.” It was Sebastian’s father, Brand, who spoke. “Once they go rogue, they are no longer allowed human names. Or our pity.”

Sebastian was weary. He’d walked away from Cara so fast, she hadn’t even seen him go, and neither had Ion. But he hadn’t been content to leave it alone. He’d followed the two of them, clinging to shadows and stalking their trail silently as they’d walked back to the old mansion they lived in.

The bikes in the driveway and the low stone wall with silver and glass fired into its stones had confirmed his suspicions. Cara was Tribe! He’d kissed a Tribe woman, had wanted a Tribe woman, and what was more, he had helped a Tribe woman to kill one of his own!

Okay, so Liam had gone rogue and had been sentenced to death. Either way, he would have died this night.

Sebastian’s keen hearing had picked up Cara and Ion’s conversation were saying as they walked into the house, at least the parts of it that were in English. Cara seemed to prefer that to her native Romani, and she had given Ion an earful.

She had told him bluntly that he was not her boyfriend and that he didn’t have any business butting into her business. That had resulted in a torrent of Romani from Ion. Most of the Fallen had spent years trying to learn that complex language, but given that it changed constantly and used so many root words from so many different countries, it was almost impossible. Sebastian had been able to make out a few phrases, and none of them had made him feel any better.

It seemed Cara was Queen Carida’s direct descendant. That meant she was direct blood of the woman who had first cursed the Fallen, had sent them into the woods and wilderness and set them chasing after the moon.

It also seemed that she was somehow promised to Ion. The fact that she didn’t want to be meant little. Sebastian knew all about oaths; they never took into account the feelings of those who had to live under them many centuries after the original pact-makers were gone.

That was just one more thing he and Cara had in common. He blinked, realizing that Brand had spoken to him and he had not answered. “I’m sorry, Father. I was lost in my thoughts.”

Brand’s eyes were dark and serious. “So I see. Have you seen any sign of the Tribe while you were out?”

“They’re using a motorcycle club as a disguise, we all know that.” There — he hadn’t exactly lied. They all knew that the club that called itself Tribe did indeed have true Tribe at its core.

“It’s time to end this.” It was Gregory, a hothead who was always chomping at the bit to start a fight.

“Sit down, Gregory,” Brand said mildly. “The men you took out tonight were all mortal. We wound up having to kill men for no reason, and that was part of what caused Liam to turn rogue.”

Unlike Tribe, the Fallen had to take on mortal mates, for the most part, in order to keep the bloodlines clean. Also unlike the Tribe, they had to reveal their natures to their mortal mates. They could not hide it. Nor could mortal blood dilute the strength of their own, another thing that the Tribe could not say.

Because of that, many of the Fallen were still young. Gregory was only twenty in both human and Fallen years. He was angry and prone to violence, often selfish and he loved the power of being Brand’s son.

It was his youth and status that kept him alive. If he had been any but Brand’s son, he would have already been sentenced, and everyone knew it. There was a growing restlessness among the Fallen over his preferential treatment and his actions that often resulted in the loss of another life. Like Liam’s.

They had plucked the riders out of the canyon. They had turned despite the daylight and they had gone after them, taking them down easily. The bikes and bodies were in the garage next to the Fallen house. Liam had not only turned, he had gone rogue — he had eaten his captive.

“Gregory, you should never have allowed yourself to turn, or encouraged others to do so as you did,” Sebastian said. “It is your fault that Liam lost whatever leash he had on the wolf within him. I call for punishment.” Sebastian knew his father was a good man and a fair one, but when it came to his youngest son he was blind and indulgent.

“I agree!” Moira cried. “He deserves punishment!”

A ripple of assent echoed throughout the room. Brand stood, his dark eyes flashing and his lean body towering over those around him. Silence fell.

“I am the King of the Fallen and I will decide what happens and when,” he said. “Gregory, come with me.” He turned and left the room.

Moira looked at Sebastian, her lovely eyes overflowing with tears. “Father will never punish him, Sebastian, and you know it.”

He did know it. He also knew that Moira had been Liam’s wife for over a century and that she was dying from heartache. She had not forgiven him his part in this either. He’d had no choice, and they both knew it, but that was a small consolation to her, and they all knew that as well.

CHAPTER 5

Nico looked up as Ion practically dragged Cara into the large living room of the crumbling old mansion in the Garden District. His eyes narrowed as he took in Cara’s swelling mouth and angry face. Ion was known to be cruel to women. Had he touched Cara in a way she hadn’t asked for? If he had…

“I found her kissing a
gadjo
.”

Gadjo was the Romani word for outsider. Cara winced at the way her father tilted her head to look at her. She could read his disapproval in that single movement.

“Is this true?”

“I ran into a rogue,” she protested.

“The man was a roguish man, or you met a rogue of the Fallen?” Nico’s lips twitched as he asked and relief spiked through Cara. She knew her father loved her and that he wasn’t blind to Ion’s faults.

“A Fallen.”

Ion gripped Cara’s arm even tighter. “Why didn’t you say so?” he shouted. “And who was the
gadjo
?”

“I think he was a Hunter. He helped me.” She didn’t say anything else. The less said the better.

“Ion, leave us,” Nico commanded.

Ion’s gray eyes flashed with rage. “I have the right to know what she does, Nico. She’s promised to me!”

“There was never a promise, Ion, there was only the hope. One day you’ll understand the two are not the same. In the meantime, I’m the head of this family and I demand your exit.”

Ion left, slamming the front door behind him. Nico said, “Follow me,” and headed for his sitting room.

Cara followed meekly. Her face was burning with shame and she knew that all of the family knew what she had done, at least that she had kissed a
gadjo
who might be a Hunter.

Resentment bubbled up under her shame. Why was it that she was the only person who never had a say about what happened in her life? She was a grownup and she had the right to decide her own path.

“I wish that were true, daughter,” Nico said softly.

“Dammit! You promised you wouldn’t spy on my thoughts!” The door closed behind them and she faced her father across the starkly furnished sitting room. The only furnishings in the room were a large rosewood desk and chair, a wall filled with shelves upon shelves of books and a small leather couch.

“I couldn’t help it. Your thoughts were as loud as that music the neighbors like to blast during their cocktail parties.”

Cara sighed. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Ion is an asshole who thinks he’s entitled to everything he sees, even me, and you know it.”

“I do know it. That doesn’t excuse your actions but it makes them understandable. A man who helps you escape that kind of danger would be very appealing.”

“He would’ve been appealing either way,” Cara said. “He was a Hunter, I think, but I can’t be sure.”

“Cara, listen to me. I know you are young and you don’t want to be tied down right now and I don’t blame you. I would never force you to be either. But — and this is a big but — you have to remember that you and you alone hold enough power to keep the spells in force for another generation. “

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they caved.” Had she just said that out loud, and to her father? That kiss must have robbed her of her senses!

“Do you hear what you’re saying?”

“No offense, Tati,” she said, slipping into the old endearment, “but have you seen what happened to the vampires after the humans starting hanging out with them? They’re all… sparkly now.”

“Sparkly?”

“Yes, you know—they are all romanticized and pretty now, or at least on the movie screens. You won’t see an ugly vampire in the media these days.”

“That doesn’t mean they don’t exist. That just means people have decided to accept them as long as they think they’re hot.”

“Hot? Did you just say hot? Really?”

“I can be hip too.”

“No, no you can’t.” Cara retorted.

Nico’s lips twitched and then his heavy laughter rumbled out. “I see your point, but werewolves don’t sparkle. Nor could they, ever, if the spells broke, and you know it.”

“They would all be rogues, I know — I’ve heard the legends all my life.”

“They chose to be rogues in the beginning, Cara. At least, the originals did. It was not for them that we had pity — don’t you ever forget it.” Nico sighed. “Right now I’m tired and I have a lot to do before I can haul these old weary bones into bed. Go to bed; I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His dismissal stung. She knew she’d displeased him… but when was she going to be able to please herself?