Cole’s Redemption (20 page)

All right. I’ll tell the others. Anything else?

He said they’ve been here almost a year, so check real estate sales or rentals. If
there’s nothing under Darrow’s name, check under Owen Matthews or any name he might
use for his holdings.

There was a pause.
You don’t mean Secretary of State Matthews, do you?

Unfortunately, yes. He’s the head of the snake, always was. When he goes down, all
of this stops.

Okay. You hang on! We’ll find this building and we’ll be there soon!

I will. I love y—

A scream shattered his thoughts, and quickly he shut down the connection. There was
no way he could subject his mate to what was happening to her father.

He didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t look away. Nick’s back was bowed, muscles
bunched as he gripped the silver chains that had to be burning his palms. His head
was turned to the side, dark hair falling over his eyes, and his teeth were gritted
against the pain.

Darrow raised his arm, brought down the whip again. The rawhide struck Nick’s back
with a horrible slap, wrapping around his upper shoulder, crossing down his back diagonally
to his hip. A line was scored into his flesh, a deep furrow that immediately began
streaming with blood. Crimson streaked down his flesh, into the waistband of his jeans.

Over and over again, the blows rained down. Zan held on to the contents of his stomach,
though just barely. That is, until Darrow’s devious mind revealed Nick’s ultimate
torture.

“Smell that?” He inhaled, then shivered with pleasure as he stepped forward. Trailed
a finger through the red liquid and brought it to his lips. Tasted. “Delicious blood.
Born shifters taste so exquisite, not even the finest red wine can compare to the
full-bodied richness.”

“Get off me, you freak,” Nick hissed, yanking against his bonds.

“Don’t be so dramatic. After all, you’re going to love the next part.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Remember what I said before? Your mate loved what I did to her. . . .” Darrow moved
close, into his captive’s back. Ran a palm down his shoulder and side, rested his
chin at the crook of his prey’s neck as a lover might do.

Horror filled Zan to the core, and he fought in earnest not be sick.

“No,” Nick whispered. “Don’t.”

“Oh, yes. I’m going to feed from you, wolf. And you’re going to love every moment
of it . . . right until you breathe your last.”

“You twisted motherfucker—”

Nick’s words were cut off as Darrow struck, sliding his fangs into the curve of his
captive’s neck. Nick cried out, his body tense . . . and then he relaxed, letting
out a hoarse moan. It was a sound of defeat. Broken.

With a dark laugh, Darrow pulled their bodies together tightly, Nick’s back to his
front, and began to feed slowly. With long pulls and the occasional lick, nuzzling
his prey’s neck, then repeating. His captive sank further under the wicked spell,
unable to stop what was happening. Past caring.

Seduced.

“You’re mine now,” Darrow murmured against his skin. “Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

“What do you want, wolf?”

“Drink from me. Take it all.”

“Patience. I’ll do as you wish. After we’ve enjoyed this fully.”

They moved together, vampire and prey, in a dark, ancient ritual that went back in
history to the gods themselves. Zan knew, should help come in time to save their lives,
even a man as mentally strong as Nick would find it nearly impossible to get past
this.

The commander would rather die than be seduced into finding pleasure at the hands
of his worst enemy. His murderer.

And with that thought, Zan finally lost the battle and became violently ill.

S
elene paced, almost coming out of her skin.

Tarron and Jax were each on their cell phone, calling everywhere they could think
of to find out who had leased or purchased buildings in the area in the past year.
They were searching for an office structure large enough to hold a coven of rogues,
in an area where they’d blend in with normal traffic. How hard could that be?

“All right,” the prince said, ending a call. Movement in the conference room halted
and everyone gave him their attention. “One of my men has found a paper trail on a
building in Grove Park, a midsized city less than a half hour from here. It fits all
the criteria, except in the owner’s name.”

“Let me guess,” Aric said. “It’s a dummy corporation?”

Tarron nodded. “A fake telecom business. But at the end of the paper trail, the owner
is our illustrious secretary of state.”

“So, when do we leave?” Selene demanded impatiently. “Time is wasting. And don’t even
think I’m staying here, because I’m not.”

“Selene, Zan would kill me if anything happened to you,” Jax said with a frown.

“No, he wouldn’t, because he knows by now how stubborn I am. Besides, you guys forget
I’m a born wolf. I have teeth and claws just like you, and I fight dirty.”

The men looked at each other, no doubt trying to figure a way to make her stay. In
the end, however, they understood she would follow them if necessary. They knew she
had to get to her mate.

Jax sighed. “All right. But if he takes a chunk out of my ass, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair enough.”

In less than fifteen minutes, several SUVs full of vampires and shifters were ready
to roll. Selene rode with Jax, sitting in the middle with him while Ryon drove, as
usual. Aric was up front beside him. The mood was tense, the team ready for a fight.

There was little conversation on the way, their minds too occupied with the takedown.
With finding Zan and her father alive. That last was far from a sure thing. It terrified
her the way her mate had cut off their contact so abruptly. He was either hurt or
protecting her from something. Or both. None of those was very comforting.

Arriving a couple of blocks from their destination, they parked on a side street out
of view of the building. Then they climbed out and began making their way to the address
they sought, surrounding the premises. Flanked by Zander’s friends, his brothers,
she prepared to rescue the man she loved.

Carter Darrow had fucked with the wrong people.

It would be his very last mistake.

•   •   •

Nick regained consciousness slowly. Wished he hadn’t.

He was still hanging in the silver chains that had burned his skin almost to the bone.
His body was limp, heavy, his strength almost gone.

Along with his will to live.

Closing his eyes, he struggled not to remember how he’d begged that murderous vampire
to drink from him. How good the pull had felt, how his cock had hardened in his jeans . . .
and how he’d come in pulsing waves, unable to help himself.

His physical reaction had
nothing
to do with Darrow. He knew that. He wasn’t even sexually attracted to males. Vampires
were masters of compulsion, and even the vilest of their bunch could hold the strongest
will in thrall.

But he hated himself all the same.

Darrow had murdered his mate. Had seduced her in the same fashion and had wanted to
do the same to his beautiful daughter. Nick knew he’d never be able to erase this
day from his mind, even if he should survive another two hundred years.

The heavy door opened, and footsteps shuffled in.
Please, let this end. Let them save Zander, but please, let me go.

Just then, the familiar buzz began in his head, and a picture began to form. He saw
this very chamber, bathed in blood. So much of it, coating every surface. Bodies were
strewn about. His mind’s eye took in the scene—and then stopped on one prone figure.

Selene, his baby girl, was lying on her side in a pool of blood. Eyes open, fighting
for her next breath.

Then she lost the fight.

Jolted from the horrifying vision, he sucked in a deep breath. “No. It can’t happen
like that!”

“What are you babbling about, wolf?” Darrow asked, amused. “Losing what’s left of
your mind already?” He chuckled, picked up something from the table, and moved to
Nick’s side. “Wait until you experience some of my fondness for knife play. You, bring
our other prisoner out here so he can watch and wait for his turn.”

The other rogue did as he was told, unlocking Zan’s chains and pulling him into the
center of the room. Then he pushed the Healer to his knees.

The silver blade came into Nick’s line of vision, and he knew. This was the weapon
that would take his daughter’s life. What could he do to change the outcome when death
just wouldn’t be cheated? Hadn’t he learned that lesson well?

“I prefer claws, myself,” he managed to retort.

Before Darrow could respond, a commotion reached their ears. A crash, banging noises.
An explosion that shook the walls. Cursing, the rogue spun to face the door.

Then it slammed inward, banging into the inside wall. His Pack and the prince’s men
spilled inside—along with Selene.

“No! Selene, get out!” he shouted.

Or thought he did. He would never be sure. Not appearing to hear him, his daughter
rushed straight to Darrow and a vicious fight was on. In a blink, she took the rogue
to the floor, shifting her hands into sharp claws and baring her teeth. Just when
it seemed she had the upper hand and would finish him, a flash of silver caught his
eye.

And Darrow buried the blade in his daughter’s side. The whole thing had taken only
seconds.

She stilled, eyes wide, gasping for air. “Daddy? Zan?”

With a nasty grin, the rogue pushed her off him and the knife pulled free with a sickening
squelch. He laughed as she fell limp and boneless to the floor.

The monster had killed his baby at last. Death had collected his due.

Daddy.
Now, after all those lonely years, she’d called him Daddy again. When it mattered
most.

Grief-stricken, Nick gratefully surrendered to the darkness.

He could finally let go.

•   •   •

When they burst into the hideous chamber, Selene took in two things: her father chained
to the wall, covered in blood, and her mate kneeling on the floor.

Red clouded her mind, and she rushed for the object of her bloodlust. Darrow barely
had time to react, taking a step toward her as she leaped at him and took him to the
floor. Shifting her hands into claws and letting her fangs drop, she had every intention
of ending him right there. She heard shouts, perhaps her dad’s voice. And Zan.

Then Darrow punched her in the side, hard. The blow stole her breath and she glanced
down . . . to see a knife buried in her side to the hilt.

“Daddy? Zan?” she whispered.

Grinning like a jackal, he yanked out the blade and shoved her to the floor. She was
so heavy, couldn’t move. Just as her eyes drifted shut, she heard her mate howl. The
sounds of renewed battle.

And then nothing.

•   •   •

When the door slammed against the wall and their backup started streaming into the
chamber, Zan barely had time to react. His mate flew at Darrow, took him to the floor.
She was about to rip him apart.

In an instant, he’d buried a knife in her side.

Zan’s howl of fury rang throughout the chamber, above the din of the fight, as more
rogues teleported in to engage his friends. Zan had only one goal, however—to kill
Darrow.

Becoming a machine, he shifted a hand into sharp claws and slashed his way through
rogues, gutting them. Ripping out their hearts. In the cacophony, they didn’t matter.
His entire focus was only on the cool blond monster who’d so ruthlessly stabbed his
mate.

At last he spotted an opening and threw himself at Darrow. They met in a clash of
bodies, the bastard not going down easily this time. He’d been ready for Zan’s attack,
but he didn’t have grief-fueled rage on his side.

Zan’s assault was relentless. Grabbing the arm with the knife, he smashed the wrist
into the floor, crushing the bone instantly. Screaming, Darrow dropped the knife,
and Zan went for his throat. But the vampire rolled, got his legs under himself, and
shoved Zan off. It gave his enemy enough leverage to leap at him and try to pin him,
but he was at a disadvantage with the broken wrist and didn’t get purchase quickly
enough. Zan twisted to the side, easily breaking his hold and launching a counterattack.

Landing on top of Darrow, he grabbed a fistful of the vampire’s hair, pulled him up.
He had to end this, and now. Executing a partial shift, he lunged forward and ripped
out his enemy’s throat. It was over that fast. Darrow’s expression was one of disbelief
and shock as the light faded from his gaze.

Zan dropped him and crawled to his mate’s side, heart pounding in fear. “Baby?” Gathering
her into his arms, he was hardly aware of the sounds of the battle around him coming
to an end. His team and the prince’s vampires had won the fight. But if he didn’t
do something fast, his mate would lose hers.

She was still, pale. Hand trembling, he pushed an errant lock of platinum hair from
her gorgeous face and gathered his strength. This was it. Selene and Nick needed him,
and he would not fail them. No matter the cost—and it would be the highest.

His eyes never leaving her face, he took a deep breath. Summoned his power from deep
within and sent the warm fingers of healing into her body, seeking the damage. His
light traveled through veins and muscle to the source of the substantial blood loss
from the wound in her side. Without his intervention his mate would die, and he wouldn’t
allow that to happen.

Already, his head was throbbing. But he pushed the pain aside and concentrated on
the damage the blade had caused internally. The tip of the knife had pierced a lung,
so he sent his energy to that tear first, knitting together the tissues and re-creating
air to inflate the organ.

Next came the stab wound, and he painstakingly repaired the flesh, making it as brand-new.
Once the gash was closed, he focused on generating the blood she’d lost, not stopping
until she was well on the road to recovery.

Done, he slumped over his mate. Held her close for a moment. “I love you. So much.
I’ll love you forever,” he whispered.

Veins in his brain were flexing. Throbbing. Sending out agonizing pains as dire warnings
to stop, which he couldn’t possibly heed. Because Nick was next.

He studied her face, committed it to memory. Then, throat closing on a burning lump,
he handed her into Jax’s arms. “Take care of her. Promise me.”

His best friend didn’t bother to pretend all was fine. His eyes were moist, his expression
miserable. “I promise. But you’re going to be okay, Alexander.”

At that, Zan smiled. Nobody ever called him by his full name, and Jax knew it. He
supposed his friend knew their minutes were numbered. Zan had never known how precious
time was until it was almost gone.

Giving his mate one last kiss on her lips, he turned away and hurried to Nick. Whipped
almost to death and nearly drained, the commander was in even worse shape than Selene
had been, and if there had been any doubt this healing session would be Zan’s last,
there wasn’t any longer.

As he placed his palms on Nick’s chest and sent the warmth of his energy into him,
Zan actually felt the tiny ruptures starting to happen in his brain. Each little pop
battered him with dizziness. Then the pops became agony, like a sharp spear being
driven into his skull and deep into his gray matter.

He couldn’t quit. Nick had seemingly given up on his own life, but Zan wouldn’t do
the same. The commander had more living to do, a daughter to make amends with and
to love. Zan was sad he wouldn’t be there to see it, to grow old loving his mate.

Muscle and bone knitted, healed. He saw to that, every single furrow from the whip’s
lashes, every drop of blood, cleaned. No scars. Gone, like a wisp of smoke. He replaced
the man’s blood, improved his circulation. All Nick had to do was awaken.

He was done. Sitting on his heels, he tilted his head back. Tried to suck in air.
But it was no use. His skull was in a vise, so much pressure crushing his brain. One
by one, the rest of the arteries and veins gave way, releasing a flood of pain, and
he fell backward, crying out. Warm liquid gushed from his nose, filled his mouth.

He was caught, held by someone on the team. Jax? Shadows hovered over him as voices
called out to him. Begged him to hang on. He wanted to tell them it was okay, he was
fine. Anything to take away their panic, their sorrow.

For one brief moment, his vision cleared and he saw them all. His whole team, except
for Nick. His brothers. He loved them all. He wanted to see Selene one more time,
but he knew she was healing. She would be all right, and that was all that mattered.
Maybe he’d see her again in heaven one day, if such a place existed.

The last of his breath left him on a puff of air. Then his brothers’ beloved faces
faded into white.

And Zander Cole died.

•   •   •

The first thing Selene became aware of was the tomblike silence all around her. Then
the soft sounds of . . . sobbing? Who was crying?

“Oh, fuck no! Please . . .”

That was Jax’s voice. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and fear shot down
her spine. Gingerly, she sat up and rubbed her temples, trying to get her bearings.
She’d been going after the rogues. Darrow. Rescuing her father—and Zan!

Glancing to her right, she spotted Darrow on the floor, his throat ripped out. She
was glad he was dead, the fight obviously won since the Pack, the prince, and his
men were all standing around. But why was everyone so quiet?

“Zan?” she called. Alerted that she was conscious, some of the prince’s men met her
eyes and then quickly looked away. Most alarming of all was when she focused on the
faces of the Pack team; every one of them had tears in his eyes, some streaming down
his cheeks. A cold lump formed in her chest.