The Lord of Near and Nigh: Shifter MC Novel (Pureblood Predator MC Book 2) (32 page)

“Like what?”

“A jerry can of gas. A good-sized knife. And that shotgun.”

“Not the shotty,” Mr. Sir says.

“Fine. An fucking gun, then,” I say, impatience and anger thickening my voice. “Not doing shit without a gun in my hand.”

“I scent you, Pureblood!”

“Christ sakes,” I mutter, peering inside again while Mr. Sir orders one of his boys to get the jerry can. The Stricken’s chained wrist and ankle to the steel container so he’s standing but spread-eagled. Fucker’s got a human-ish body that’s covered in thick grey hide, but the blunt, heavy-nosed face of rhino. A pair of thick horns are growing out of its head. He’s been worked over real good: cut and shot up. A few of his wounds are healing, but he’s on his last legs.

“Time to crawl under the porch and die, motherfucker,” I say.

“Come on inside, Pureblood. Unchain me.
Then
feed on me. If you can. You afraid? Can’t do it without your Skin buddies?” The Stricken laughs. “Yeah. Purebloods and Skins. That’s about right. In this new world. You’re weak, like them—”
 

“What’s it mean…feed?” Mr. Sir asks.

“Like I said. Fuck if I know.”

Mr. Sir takes a few steps back. Raises the shotty at me and says, “Just a precaution.”

I ignore him. The skinhead dude returns with the jerry can.
 

“He’s Becoming,” the Stricken screams.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, pouring the gas over a two-by-four and lighting it.
 

“The hunter hunted!”

“Uh-huh.”

“What is that…thing?” A woman’s voice. I look up and see Brandy peering inside. The boy Braydon’s clinging to her leg.

“Some sort of…rhino,” the skinhead guy says.
 

I look at Brandy, then say, “Hey. Why don’t you take the boy inside?”

“What?” Brandy says. “No. He needs to learn—”

“Take him inside,” I say in a way that maybe—
maybe
—gets the point through that ditzy fucking head of hers, because she swallows hard and tugs at the boy’s arm. I wait for them to get inside the gas station, then turn to Mr. Sir and say, “All right. Killing demons—”

“Demons!” the Stricken cackles. “Ha, you asshole Skins. You stupid motherfuckers! You’re gettin’ played—” The Stricken digs it’s rhino horns into the metal container, piercing a half inch of steel like it’s butter.

Fuck. The pricks
are
getting stronger—
 

“What’s he mean?” Mr. Sir says. “Who’s gettin’ played?”

I lift the flaming torch in the air. Wave it at the open container. The Stricken starts screeching.

“See that?” I say. “First thing is…they fucking hate fire.”

I fling the burning torch at the Stricken. It lands at the creature’s feet. The Stricken thrashes against its chains, shaking the entire shipping container, and for a moment I think it might break loose, and a part of me wants it to.
 

I don’t dig killing like this.
 

This is how Skins kill.
 

Like chickenshit bitches.
 

But I got no choice, so I say, “Fire fucks ‘em up. Messes with their minds. Gives you some time…” I grab the shitty old revolver the skinhead offers me, then step inside the shipping container, aim, and am about to fire when the Stricken screams, “He’s one of us you stupid asshole Skins he’s like me a monster a fucking animal only he bleeds red—”
 

I empty six rounds in the rhino’s head. The shots are deafening in the enclosed space. Then I step outside. Thirty wide-eyed motherfuckers have their guns drawn on me.

“You gunna listen to that jerk-off?” I ask Mr. Sir. “Cuz rule number one is you never listen to a fucking Stricken.”

“Stricken? Though you said—”

“Demon. I said
demon
.”

“No—”

I snatch a good-sized jackknife from the skinhead and am about to step inside when I notice the heavy container door. “Mr. Sir. You come on in with me while I finish the demon off.”

Mr. Sir spits. “Not gunna happen.”

I crack a wide grin. “Why? You don’t trust me? Fine. Then how about you send one of your boys in. Show them what a man you are.”

Mr. Sir’s eyes gleam. “Watch that tongue a yours, Aaron.”

I laugh. “Been hearing that my whole life. So? You in?”

Mr. Sir shrugs and steps forward.
 

Stupid asshole. Pride and ego. That shit’ll kill ya right quick.

We enter the container. The Stricken’s head is half blown off, but even still when I start in cutting off its head the fucking thing almost gores me. The scent of black blood fills the stifling hot container and my wolf’s fucking howling and I’m barely hanging on, pleading with him for a few more minutes, promising he’ll get his feed—

“Cut off their fucking heads,” I say to Mr. Sir. “Got it?”

He nods. Licks his lips.

A final well-aimed slash and the rhino’s head falls to the floor. I kick it to Mr. Sir and tell him to pick it up. The thing must weigh forty pounds.

“We done here?” he asks, rolling the head outside.

“Nah. They’ll come back from that.”
 

“From being
beheaded
?”

“Yup.”

I stab the knife into the Stricken’s chest. Tear out it’s warm, still-beating heart. Feel my claws and fangs dropping. Fight them back inside. A growl escapes my lips.

“Fuck was that?” Mr. Sir asks.
 

“Nothing. Got a little gas is all.”

I cradle the black heart in my palms.
 

Saliva spills from my mouth.
 

“Get outside,” I say.

We step into bright sunlight. I bend over real quick to hide my fangs, pour gas on the Stricken head and light it up. “You gotta burn the head,” I say. “And cut out the heart.”

“We burn the heart too?” the skinhead asks. “These fucking things. They’re like…invincible.”

“He look invincible to you?” I ask while the Stricken’s head starts smoking. “Just gotta know what you’re doing.”

“And how do
you
know?” Mr. Sir asks.

I ignore him. “Now the heart? That’s the
best
part. Couple options. You can burn it. But that’s a waste. Where I come from, we like to do this—”

I stand tall.
 

Let the wolf way the fuck out.
 

Lift the black heart in the air and drop the entire thing into my maw.
 

Chomp right the fuck down.
 

There’s three, maybe four seconds of absolute silence.
 

Then someone screams, “You fucking sick—”

“Tell that boy Brayden to trust his gut,” I say. “Kid’s got good instincts.”

Mr. Sir raises the shotgun. It’s like he’s moving in slow motion.
 

The feed is coursing through me. Sharpening me.
 

“That,” I say, burying the hunting knife deep in Mr. Sir’s eye and killing him instantly, “was a
fine
fucking feed. Thank you kindly, Mr. Sir.”

Rifles roar.
 

I grab Mr. Sir, let his stinking corpse take the first round of bullets, then leap behind the container, then I’m around back, through the woods, running faster than any Skin motherfucker could even dream, and as the bullets wing around me, thunking into the trees and sending splinters showering down I loose a long, triumphant howl. I guess I could’ve walked out of there without killing anyone. But you know how it is.
 

I am what I am.
 

***

Tate wasn’t bullshitting when he said his cabin’s a remote fortress.
 

We leave the paved road behind, and after forty miles of shitty logging roads that get worse the higher we wind into the mountains the road dead ends at the base of a steep cliff. There’s no trail. No signs. Only dust and mile after mile of cedar and hemlock forests and that ageless mountain silence.

I hop out of the van and breathe deep.
 

Forgot how much I appreciate the wood’s silence.
 

My mind’s been buzzing with worries about the MC and Lily and the Stricken and what the fuck’s happening to the world. Even my animal, who’s been pacing in his cage for days, sensing danger and clawing to escape and hunt, begins to calm.
 

I light a smoke and watch the others pile out of the van. I could slip into the woods and vanish forever. Even with the fucking collar I could hunt prey. Other Purebloods have done it. Quite a few over the years. Gone fucking feral. Turned their backs on this life of greed and pollution and senselessness and sought solace in the trees.
 

I’d always dismissed them as cowards.
 

Too weak to make a go of it against Skins and Stricken.
 

Now I realize I’m just envious.
 

I’m trapped in the same bullshit dream the asshole Skins like Mr. Sir are.
 

The dream of power. Control. Domination.
 

Truth is I like being an outlaw among men. Like hunting Stricken and slaughtering Skins and walking into any bar from Seattle to LA and having the meanest motherfuckers in the world shut their fucking mouths and move aside.
 

My fucking ego.
 

That’s all it was.
 

Maybe my brother betraying me is payment for that failing.
 

Maybe something’s teaching me a lesson.

“You all right?” Mia says, brushing her fingers against my elbow.

“No,” I tell her. “Nothing’s right.”

“Best get right, then,” she says, looking back into the van at Sorry. “Your bro needs you.” Mia’s voice softens so the others can’t hear, then she says, “We all need you, Aaron.”
 

Mia.
 

Hot-cold. Hot-cold. Like a fucking on-off switch.
 

I’ll never understand her. Most of the time I don’t even
like
her.

But that doesn’t mean she’s not important to me.
 

“We cool?” I say, trying to edge past her.

Mia glances at Lily, then at me, then leans real close and runs her finger down my chest, pausing at my belt. My cock swells in my jeans. Mia’s eyes glitter like emeralds, and over her shoulder I see Lily watching us from beside the van. Lily’s eyes are smoldering. I know Mia knows Lily’s watching, and then I’m like,
fucking hell
, what kind of bitchy cat-fight have I blundered into? I snarl and flash my fangs at Mia because she’s playing me, and at the same time…I fucking
like
the snake bitch hanging on me, and worse I
like
the thought of Lily and Mia scratching at one another, fighting to mate their alpha—

“I want you to fuck me, Aaron,” Mia whispers, slipping her hand over my cock. “Right now. Take me in the deep dark woods and
fuck
me.”

“Enough. Fucking stop it.”
 

“I want that great cock in my cunt.”

“Mia. Fuck sakes! Seriously fucking stop—”

“I need that great cock, Aaron. I fucking
ache
for it—”

I take a step backward. But it’s a half-assed step. My cock’s throbbing tight in my jeans and Mia’s scent’s in my nose making my wolf howl and I know she scents me and this has to end right now…but the thing is…a part of me doesn’t want it to.
 

“She’s my
bloodmate
—” I stammer, raising my hands to ward Mia away.
 

“Fuck you, Aaron. So what? So what if you fucked the cop chick? Doesn’t mean shit. Fuck her brains out. You’re
alpha
. Fuck whoever you want. As much as you want. Fuck us
both
…if you want…together…”

Ah, shit. This crazy bitch—

“I want to fuck her too,” Mia whispers, flinging herself on me. “You want to see us fuck? Watch us? Lily and me? You want to fuck us together? You can have that, you know. She’s into it. And you fucking
know
I am. Just say the words, Aaron.
Command
us.”

I knock Mia’s hand away. She laughs and presses forward.
 

I take a drag of my smoke and blow it in her face.
 

The fucking manipulating snake bitch.
 

My MC’s milling around, getting shit out of the van, doing a damn find job of pretending to mind their own fucking business. But they’re watching this little show.
 

Bet your ass. This is just good TV.

“Back off, Mia,” I say, and this time there’s an edge in my voice that makes her hesitate. “Back right the fuck off.”

Mia smiles. “That’s right, Aaron. My fucking wolf. Command me.
Make me obey
. Because I tell you what. You asked if we’re cool? Well. I’m cool with my apex alpha Prez. I’m
always
cool with him.” Mia steps forward and whispers, “But when it comes time to make the call? About where his loyalty lies? My alpha better make the
right
fucking call.”

Mia’s words hit me like a brick in the face. The cigarette slips from my fingers. A threat like that, if it was anyone but Mia, the motherfucker would be on the ground bleeding. But it
is
Mia, so all I do is choke on the wrong words and generally feel like an asshole—

Mia bends down, picks up my cigarette, takes a drag, then raises her head and kisses me on the neck. The first kiss doesn’t mean shit, right? We’re old lovers. No sweat. Everyone knows that.
 

The second kiss, though?
 

The one that makes me close my eyes and slip my hands around Mia’s tight little ass? That one’s
not
so cool. And the third? When Mia presses tight and a growl escapes my throat and I lean down to return her kisses—
 

Mia slips from my embrace, flashes me a wicked fang-filled smile that makes me want to fuck her and open her chest at the same time, glances over her shoulder at Lily, then slides into the woods, leaving me with a half-smoked cigarette and a headful of toxic mind-fuck bullshit. Lily looks so pissed I’m worried she’s about to shoot flame from her eyes…which wouldn’t surprise me, considering what she is.