Immortal Ops: New & Lengthened 2016 Anniversary Edition (2 page)

Mandy Roth kicks ass in this story
—inthelibraryreview

Immortal Ops Series Helper

Immortal Ops (I-Ops) Team Members

Lukian Vlakhusha:
Alpha-Dog-One. Team captain, werewolf, King of the Lycans. Book: Immortal Ops (Immortal Ops)

Geoffroi (Roi) Majors:
Alpha-Dog-Two. Second-in-command, werewolf, blood-bound brother to Lukian. Book: Critical Intelligence (Immortal Ops)

Doctor Thaddeus Green:
Bravo-Dog-One. Scientist, tech guru, werepanther. Book: Radar Deception (Immortal Ops)

Jonathon (Jon) Reynell:
Bravo-Dog-Two. Sniper, weretiger. Book: Separation Zone (Immortal Ops)

Wilson Rousseau:
Bravo-Dog-Three. Resident smart-ass, wererat. Book: Strategic Vulnerability (Immortal Ops)

Eadan Daly:
Alpha-Dog-Three. PSI-Op and handler on loan to the I-Ops to round out the team, Fae. Book: Tactical Magik (Immortal Ops)

Colonel Asher Brooks:
Chief of Operations and point person for the Immortal Ops Team. Book: Administrative Control (Immortal Ops)

Chapter One

Captain Lukian Vlakhusha walked through the halls of Immortal Ops headquarters, slightly disappointed to be back to work since he’d only had one week away at his estate in Maine. It had been a much-needed break. He owned nearly three hundred acres of wooded land that served well to keep who and what he was far from the prying eyes of humans. To keep him far from anyone being able to see what went on when he was home—how the woods seemed to burst at the seams with wolves whenever he was there. Or how the howls of packs of wolves could be heard for miles as his followers gave in to the moon’s pull and the need to run and feel the wind on their faces. And most importantly, no humans were close to see those same wolves shape-shift into human form when they were done running free.

That was a biggie.

He loved his primary home but didn’t get to spend nearly enough time there. Not with his current obligations and duties. Ones he’d taken on out of a sense of honor, not for need of the paycheck. He came from old money and didn’t require any more. The estate had been in his family for generations, and he saw to its upkeep but felt no need to expand upon it. The main home on the property was big enough as it was. He’d picked up a two-engine plane several years ago to make the distance between his main home and work headquarters a much shorter travel. He didn’t love to fly so much as he liked knowing he was the one in command of his fate, not some commercial pilot who may or may not have tied a few over before a scheduled flight.

Lukian tried to get home as much as possible, but work kept him busy. He had hired help back at the estate as well as trusted friends who came and went often, helping to oversee things there. His main concern was always his horses. The ironic part of it was, horses were notorious for being temperamental around supernaturals. He chuckled, remembering more than once in his immortally long life when a horse had decided it wanted nothing to do with him. Once while he was riding one. That ended with Lukian being unceremoniously dumped onto his backside.

Even with their unpredictability around supernaturals, he kept horses at his estate because he’d always been drawn to them
,
and while it had taken a while for them to trust him, they’d found a rhythm that worked well for them. They understood he didn’t see them as lunch, and he understood they weren’t at the point they’d let him ride them. At least not yet.

He chuckled as he thought of the horse he’d ironically named Gentle. It had bitten him several times already and had one hell of a temper. He couldn’t blame the horse. It had been a rescue from an animal hoarder who had barely fed it and kept it locked up. Now, Gentle had wide-open fields and food. And a temper.

Lukian grinned. The horse had earned its foul mood.

He drew in a long breath, missing being home more and more as of late. He had a place not far from headquarters, but it didn’t feel like home. It was simply somewhere he used to lay his head. It wasn’t what Maine offered him—the privacy and all the acreage where he could let his inner beast out to run free. As a natural-born wolf shifter
,
or lycan as he preferred, he had to be sure to care for his beast side or run the risk of it overpowering him. He’d seen it happen to countless alpha males who thought they had a handle on their animal side, and it wasn’t pretty.

He’d even had to hunt and put a number of those males down in his lifetime.

His chest tightened at the thought of it. He hated that side of the job. Hated having to kill his own kind.

Don’t go there mentally
, he thought. If he dared to let himself enter that dark headspace, he’d not recover. And in the end it would be others hunting him. Others stopping him from doing harm.

For now, he needed to remain calm and be thankful for the limited downtime he’d been granted. The lull before the storm. He and his men had worked long hours and months before they’d been given some leave. The break had been much needed, but not nearly long enough. He could have used another few weeks. It would take him at least that long to get Gentle to quit trying to take a chunk out of him.

He laughed softly.

It might take longer.

An announcement played overhead through the sound system, letting the men know of an update in the Middle East. The state of affairs from all over the world were monitored at the facility and every detail was shared with them, as if they alone could right all the wrongs.
 

The report had barely finished before another started. I-Ops HQ didn’t provide much in the way of peace and quiet.
 

He sighed, missing the silence the time away had provided. The entire week away had been relaxing. No demands from those who were under him.

No weapons.

No violence.

Nothing but peace and solitude.

His primal instincts to hunt and kill were somehow sated when he was able to shift forms and run free. It was one of only a few activities that seemed to keep the beast at bay. Sex was another, but it often came with strings of attachment. Women always wanted more than he could give. They wanted a future with him. That wasn’t an option. He wasn’t a fish to be caught.

Nope. I’m a free agent and damn happy to be one
, he thought with a grin.

He’d seen pack members meet their mates, and it left them testosterone-driven nutcases. That just wasn’t for him. He didn’t have time to grovel after some dame in a skirt. He had missions to worry about.

Not pussy.

That came easy enough.
 

Working helped to a degree as well. It kept him busy. He loved his job, he really did, but there were times it ate at his soul. What he and his team saw on a daily basis could give a normal man nightmares. Lukian was hardly normal. He also wasn’t human. When he was young, he’d longed to be like the mortals. He’d wanted to blend with them, instead of hiding who and what he truly was—a creature humans thought existed only in fiction and fables. With age came wisdom and acceptance of things he could not change.

Though he found himself still envying humans to some degree. They lived in total ignorance to what went on around them in the world. They bought into whatever lie their governments or religious leaders spoon-fed them, and they seemed relieved to have stories of weather balloons in place of aliens. Hell, they had a show dedicated to the search for Bigfoot, yet all around them supernatural wonders existed. There was a naiveté about them that was appealing to an extent. It did border on stupid, so there was the issue of the fine line.

He shrugged. No use thinking about it anymore, as it could not be changed and he was what he was—part man, part beast. A lycan or man who could shift into a wolf and who had been born that way, not infected with the virus that created werewolves or other werecreatures. Lukian wasn’t just any old lycan either. No. Lukian’s bloodline was royal, leaving him in charge of the wolves in North America.

If only he’d taken to the political side of it all. He held the title of king but did little in the way of day-to-day needs the position required. He left that up to his advisers
,
who convened monthly at his home in Maine and then returned to their homes across the states, on call when need be. Lukian bucked the system and tradition. He chose instead to work—something his uncles still couldn’t wrap their minds around. All of his uncles were on his advisory panel, and most were tolerant of his new ways, but one wasn’t. One seemed to make it his mission to stand in opposition to everything Lukian tried to do as far as ruling.

Dick
, he thought as he continued down the hall.

He rubbed his palms against his cloth-covered thigh, his body ready for a good run in the woods. The wolf side of him longed for the freedom to do as it pleased. What it was born to do. Wisely, the grounds of Headquarters were kept stocked with wild game. It was better he and his men hunt for animals rather than humans. That never went over well and always left more paperwork than anyone wanted to bother with.

Chapter Two

Lukian paused as one of his teammates approached. Geoffroi “Roi” Majors sang a song from a children’s television show as he walked down the hall of Immortal Ops Headquarters past Lukian. Roi’s ink-black hair hung to his shoulders and looked as if he’d just come from a shower. Lukian momentarily wondered what woman his friend had probably spent the night with. It wasn’t often Roi slept alone. Lukian liked women just as much as the next guy, but Roi lived for them.

“Howdy, Captain. I’d ask if you’d be my neighbor, but I couldn’t stand to hear you turn me down,” said Roi with a tiny salute. He touched his chest. “It would break my heart. The wolf in me would curl up and die, and I’m sure I couldn’t go on. Want to hold me close and tell me your love for me will never die? Come on, give Roi some sugar.” He reached out, trying to hug Lukian, his lips puckered.

“I will shoot you if you kiss me,” Lukian replied, though he was used to Roi’s odd song choices and bizarre behavior. Honestly, Lukian was happy Roi had finally stopped whistling the theme song to a show that centered on the sheriff of a town called Mayberry. It had been getting so bad that Lukian had actually considered tearing the man’s tongue out just to get him to shut up. As an alpha werewolf, he found it hard to resist the urge, but somehow, he managed.
 

It was difficult.

“Late start?” he asked, nodding his head to Roi’s wet hair. While I-Ops Headquarters was state of the art, and it did have nice showers and locker rooms, the men preferred the comforts of their own homes. Roi’s showering on location meant he’d not been home yet. That wasn’t much of a surprise. Roi’s playboy ways were getting out of control. Already the men had had to intervene and pick him up more than once when an angry female had tossed him out of her house while he was wearing nothing more than what he was born in and too drunk to shift forms and make it anywhere but to a ditch by the side of the road.
 

Lukian was hardly a monk, but his friend was taking womanizing to the extreme. One of these days he’d mess with the wrong woman, and she’d capture his heart and his dick. That would teach him. Lukian couldn’t wait to see that happen.

“Guess what I spent my night doing?” Roi waggled his brows, a shit-assed grin spreading over his face. “Twins.”
 

Lukian smiled despite himself. As much as he wanted to chastise the guy, a part of him found it amusing. He’d been young once, though he didn’t look much older than his early thirties, and he had probably chased as much tail as Roi, maybe more. Now that he was older he knew that no matter how many women he fucked, he’d never truly be satisfied. None had been his mate. Until he found her, the one woman who would make his immortal soul whole, he’d always have an empty spot inside. The same void Lukian tried to pretend didn’t exist. “You never stop, do you?”
 

“You know, you’re king, you should really get twin action too.” Roi tousled his wet hair, sending drops of water flying in all directions. “Chicks dig you.”

Lukian disliked his title—by birthright—being brought up in conversation. He wasn’t king of
all
the lycans. Just the American ones. He didn’t wear his kinghood on his sleeve as did some royals he knew. France’s king of Lycans was a total douchebag. The guy was a whiny little bitch who pranced around shouting his title for all to hear. As if anyone gave a shit. The last time the heads of the lycan councils gathered for a meeting
,
Lukian gave up trying to stop Roi from killing the guy
,
and hoped Roi would be successful.
 

Grinning, Roi lifted his arms out. “Seriously, you should live it up a bit, you’re king.”

Lukian considered shooting his longtime friend and right-hand man just to shut the guy up. Seemed like a waste of a bullet though since Roi wouldn’t learn any lesson from it and he’d just heal the wound over within an hour. He gave Roi a disapproving look.
 

Roi shrugged. “I’d bang triplets if I was king.”
 

“You already bed triplets,” answered Lukian, his voice even. Roi’s position in the pack, which was second only to Lukian, held no bearing on how many women Roi bedded. The man could be pack beta and he’d still have a new woman next to him nightly.

Playboy Roi.

The nickname seemed to suit him.

Roi laughed. “Right. I do. What’s four of ’em called? Is there a saying for that?”

“Yes. Man-whore.”

Dr. Green entered from the other end of the hall. The man looked intimidating, tall, auburn hair, green eyes
,
and packed with muscle
,
but Lukian knew the truth—Green was a gentle giant. Books and all things science applied to Green. The shifter side of things—killing and death—did not. Though, Lukian suspected that if push ever came to shove, Green would not be a man he wanted to cross.
 

Green groaned as he looked in Roi’s direction. “How many women this time?”