The Lord of Near and Nigh: Shifter MC Novel (Pureblood Predator MC Book 2) (43 page)

“What do you call yourselves?” Aaron scowls.
 

Connor takes a deep breath. “Purebloods. Same as you.”

Tate spits a mouthful of ridiculously expensive Scotch across the equally expensive couch.
 

Star winces, flings him a look of disgust.

“Bullshit,” Aaron says. “How about I open your neck and watch your blood run black? You call that pure?”

“Trust me, I
know
what color my blood runs,” Connor says, sounding genuine for the first time since we arrived. “I’ve lived with the curse my entire life.”

“The curse?” I ask.

“My
father’s
curse,” Connor says, his brow knitted in anger. “His perversion. His evil. The Atrocity? I’ve born his curse for millennia. Lived in fear of ones like these two, who hunt and murder us, convinced of their natural superiority. Believing they’re the peak of evolution.” Connor’s lips twist into a sneer. “But that’s changing now, isn’t it,
Prez
? Do you scent it? All your talk of natural order and unbreakable law. You forgot one thing. The only constant in nature is
change
. And things are changing now, aren’t they?”

“Bullshit,” Aaron says. “The hunt is law. That’s all that matters. You sound like a fucking Skin, creating stories to justify the horrors you commit. You’re fucking sick. All your kind is
sick
.”

“Yes. The hunt is law,” Connor says. “That’s what you tell yourselves. But is it so difficult to imagine…a world
after
the First Fallen is gone, when our two packs roam free together, like the ancient alpha and beta packs did before the One War?”

“Yeah, it is,” Aaron says. “There’s only Purebloods and Stricken, killing one another since the Fallen raped his mother and spawned
you
. You want your blood cleaned? Best of luck. It’s a fucking fairytale.”

“What about Lonny?” Mia says to Aaron. “His blood ran black.”
 

She doesn’t say anything else, but it’s obvious what Aaron’s thinking: if red can run black, can the opposite also happen? Can a Stricken be made Pureblood?
 

“There are more than Purebloods and Stricken living now,” Star says, eyeing me over her champaign flute. “Is your
bloodmate
a fairytale?”

“A fucking terrifying one,” Tate mumbles into the Scotch decanter.

“Yes, she
is
terrifying, isn’t she?” Connor says, lifting an eyebrow at me. “What do you think of her, Prez? How do you explain your bloodmate’s power? Isn’t she proof the world is changing?”

“Bloodmate?” I say.

“Well…you
are
mated, aren’t you?” Connor says. “I scent it.”
 

Aaron shrugs. “What I think of my bloodmate is none of your fucking business.”

“Take us to him,” I say, tired of having them talk about me as if I’m not in the room. “Take us to your father, Connor.”

“His
father
?” Trish cackles. “Oh, shit. Rich guy’s got
serious
daddy issues.”

“I don’t have to take you to him,” Connor says, lifting his head to the sky. “You hear that? The esteemed August Lerrick’s helicopter is scheduled to arrive any minute.”

“A trap,” Trish hisses, raising her Glock at Connor.

“Not a trap. A reunion. This is what you want, isn’t it, Lil? To murder the First Fallen so you can free yourself of your creature? So we can all be
free
? Whatever you think about me…what you think I did to you…remember that.”

“Hey,” Aaron says, stepping around the couch so he can see me. “What the fuck is he—”

“I want her gone,” I say to Aaron. “More than anything. I want her out of me.”

“See?” Connor says, spreading his arms across the back of the sofa. “The girls knows what she wants. Best not argue.”

“He’s playing you, Lil,” Trish says quietly from beside me on the couch.

“I don’t think so.”

And it’s true. I sure as shit don’t trust Connor, but I’m fairly certain he’s not lying about his father being the First Fallen.
 

Or maybe I’m just a fool.
 

“What did the asshole tell you?” Aaron roars.

I spring to my feet and face him square on. “What the fuck do
you
care? You want one thing and one thing only. To slink around slaughtering Stricken. You’ve been doing it for centuries, and you intend to continue doing it for centuries more. Well, fuck that. You might like the animal in you. Might get off on killing. But I don’t. I
hate
her, Aaron. And she hates me. She wants to destroy me.”

“And this little prick—”

“Hey now. Why don’t you ask Lily about my prick?”

“—told you his father is the First Fallen, and murdering him will kill…the creatures?”

“Yes.”

“Not kill,” Connor corrects. “But make them
dormant
, yes.”

“And how the fuck do you know this?” Aaron says, whirling to face Connor.

Connor shrugs. “The All Encompassing’s role is to defeat the First Fallen. When she does that she has no purpose. Our animals…exist to war with one another. When the war is over they’ll vanish.”

“Pretty fucking thin, hun,” Trish says, clearly not believing a word of it.

“Let me kill him, Lil,” Aaron pleads. “Let me kill this fucking Stricken liar. He’s filling you full of bullshit! There’s still time. I’ll kill him and we’ll find your pack and—”

“Oh, darn,” Star giggles. “Daddy has most of your pack already.”

Tate takes a long pull of the Scotch, empties it, tosses the crystal decanter on the gleaming marble floor. The shatter echoes through the cavernous room. “Well, I’m always in for murdering douchebag suits,” he says, lighting a huge spliff. “Just need a few minutes here…”

“Aaron,” I say quietly. “Star’s right. He has them. My packmates. After all this time. I felt their pain. Their loss and uncertainty. I need to do this for them at least. And if I kill the Fallen—”

“This is when you thank me, Lily. For bringing him to you,” Connor says.
 

“Fuck you, pretty boy,” Trish says.

Connor stands. “The thing is, Lil,
you
don’t have to kill him.”

“No? Then who will?”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Connor says with a wicked, tooth-lined smile. “Hence the outfit. This is a momentous day. Son murders father. Like a legend of old. The Stricken finally freed from their curse…by me.”

“
You’re
going to kill him?” I say.
 

Connor bows. “If it pleases the lady.” Then he turns to face Aaron. “Would that help you believe my intentions are true?”

“Fuck no.”

“But why…do you need me?” I ask, stunned nearly speechless at Connor’s desire to murder his own father.

“Lets greet the infamous August Lerrick outside, shall we?” Connor answers. “I think all will become rather immediately clear.”

“When it’s too fucking late,” Trish mutters.

The whump of helicopter blades slicing through the air sounds over the mansion.

“What’s it gunna be, Lil?” Aaron asks. “You gunna trust this prick?”

“What if he’s right, Aaron? What if killing August sets the world right? Closes the chasms? Calms the rising tides? Banishes this fucking…
thing
screeching inside me? Do I have a choice?”

“Not really,” Star says, walking across the room toward a door that opens onto the backyard and the Pacific Ocean. “Daddy’s already scented you, I’m sure. I doubt even you could outrun him now.”

“I
T
’
S
THIS
WAY
, my Lord,” Tamara says, leading me from the edge of the Pyramid of the Sun. Black-bellied storm clouds, centered over my pyramid, have spread into the receding hills. Red-orange lightning flashes. The once-great Skin city is burning. Glowing white-hot lava rivers carve their way down the streets, creating moats of fire. Wide chasms rend the city apart. Several Skin camps have sprung up beneath my pyramid, full of the maimed and dying and desperate. The Skins pray I will keep them safe from the Stricken roaming the gutted streets, but soon the sacred offerings will begin.
 

“I must feed,” I say to Tamara while gesturing at the black-blooded Stricken pig Carlos Collazo. He’s bound spread-eagled on a stone altar atop the ancient pyramid. My deer’s foot amulet and Smoking Mirror sit on the edge of the stone disk.

“Yes,” Tamara says with a suggestive smile. “I know you’re famished. But first…attend to the needs of your bloodmate and High Priestess?”
 

Tamara slips from her yellow and black robe. My heart quickens. My bloodmate’s naked skin shines in the torchlight. I study her firm breasts and soft abdomen. The gentle rise of her blonde pubic mound. The beautiful curve of her ass.
 

Another kind of need growls at me.

Carlos glances at Tamara in a way that makes my animal’s hackles rise. But if they’re still scheming against me they’ll be disappointed. There’s no power on this earth that can stop the Lord of Near and Nigh, no matter what stories Star and Connor tell about another alpha rival.
 

I glance at Tamara’s naked body.
 

It doesn’t take me long to choose.
 

“If Collazo moves, offer him to me,” I instruct one of the Stricken recently turned loyal. “Remove his head but not his heart. I will feed when I return.”

The Stricken nods.
 

Tamara smiles and reaches back for my hand.
 

I allow her to lead, watching her hips and ass sway as she walks.
 

“What should I name them?” I ask as we approach the rear of the pyramid platform.
 

“Who?”

“The Stricken who’ve joined my pack. The ones loyal to me. They’ll form my future army.”

“They were once called the People of the Sun.”

“That cycle has ended.”

Tamara looks at me and smiles. “I believe it has, my Lord. The Earthquake Sun has set. A new cycle has begun. Or rather…we’ve returned to the First Cycle.”

“Which was?”

“Nahui-Ocelotl. Age of the Jaguar Sun.”

I look to the west, where a pale yellow sun is rising beneath the storm clouds.

Tamara shrugs, then waves her hand at the Skin camps spread below the pyramid. “Perhaps you should call them slaves, my Lord.”

I think for a moment. “Slaves. They are that. But they’re more as well. They’re…faithful. Devoted.”

“Call them that, then,” Tamara says while crouching down and using the edge of her hand to wipe away an inch-thick layer of dust from the stones. “The Devoted.”

“The Devoted? Yes.”

“As we are all devoted to you, my Lord.”

Tamara uncovers a seam in the pyramid’s stonework. She traces her fingers along the seam, clearing away centuries of dust and grime. Soon a shape emerges: an equilateral triangle, about four feet wide.
 

“What is this?” I ask, growing impatient. Watching Tamara crouch before me, laboring…yes. I need her. I made the right decision in selecting this woman as the Age of Discord’s first High Priestess.

“It’s our…den,” Tamara says. “A passage leading to the heart of the pyramid temple.”

Tamara shifts a small stone an inch to the right.
 

There’s a grinding sound as pyramid’s entry door lowers a foot, then stops.
 

“Help me slide it open,” Tamara says. She sounds impatient. Hurried.
 

She desires me as much as I do her. Maybe more.

I lean down beside her, dig my claws into the stone seam and pull.
 

The door won’t budge.

“Harder, Rodas,” Tamara says, straining beside me.
 

I summon my animal’s strength and tear at the door.
 

The stones shudder, then slide open a half inch.
 

“A little more, my Lord.”

Another attempt makes me growl with the effort. The triangular door slides wide open. I peer inside the black space, trying to discern a stairway or ladder. But it’s pitch black. I should be able to see clear as day in any darkness. But not this darkness.
 

A cold, musty winds rises from within the pyramid.
 

My animal growls.

“Careful now, my Lord,” Tamara says, gripping me by the shoulder and pulling me away from the pit. She indicates a small triangular stone set beside the door with her toe, then says, “This one closes the door from the outside. There is one identical to it on the inside.”

“I don’t see any steps,” I say.
 

“They’re there.” Tamara pulls me into a hard embrace. Her heart thumps fast against her ribcage. “Should I bring a torch, my Lord?” Tamara asks.

“No,” I scoff. “Of course not.”

Tamara squeezes me in a way that makes me feel…lost.

Red-orange lightning flickers in the distance. The screams of the dying rise on the night wind to reach my ears. O Night Wind raise this filth. I who am stillborn. I who am waste.
 

“I have something to tell you, Rodas” Tamara whispers, her black eyes shining as she takes my hand in hers and presses it to her belly. “Rejoice, for I am with child. Your child.”

My breath catches in my throat.
 

I struggle to make sense of this declaration, then say, “You’re certain?”

“More than certain.”

I lean down to kiss this beautiful woman, the woman who freed me from the steel cage, my bloodmate, my love, First High Priestess of my rule…and now mother of my firstborn child. Her lips part to greet mine. She tastes of a mountain stream, fresh and nourishing.

“It is a son,” she says.
 

“How do you know?”

Tamara smiles. Her white fangs glitter. “I sense it. A woman knows.”
 

“Join me,” I say, indicating the triangular door. “You were right. We must celebrate this momentous day.”

Tamara bites her lower lip. A flicker of something I can’t quite name crosses her face.