Chapter 11

ELEVEN

Max

The day drags at an agonizingly slow pace until it’s time to get ready and suddenly the minutes speed past. Are we ready? By all outward appearances, the answer is yes. I stand before the floor-length mirror in the guest bedroom downstairs to inspect the fit of my tux. It looks good. I’m shocked for a moment that the Enforcers were able to get a suit that fits so perfectly, until I recall that the Enforcers retain every bit of information about their agents they can scrounge.

It’s unsettling. I’ll have to make sure to never make an enemy out of them.

My phone rings and I answer it before it has a chance to ring again. “Hello.”

It’s the boss man. Of course it is. He’s nervous about this operation. There are too many eyes on it. “My superiors wanted me to make your agenda clear.”

Here it comes.

“Blood Mage Alpha.” Simon, but they don’t need to know that. “Needs to be killed at all costs. The other Blood Mages we’d prefer you kill as well, but the Enforcers will be there to act as clean-up as long as the threat has been neutralized.”

That means the Blood Mages can be dead or close to dead, but they don’t want to risk their people on the Blood Mages if they’re too powerful for us to handle. If we die and the mission fails, they’ll still deal with them at a later date, one at a time. They have to, because the death and havoc they’ve been unleashing on the country won’t go unexplained by the humans forever. It’s bad enough that rumors have been circling about the Blood Mages amongst the supernaturals, and the heat is being turned up on the Enforcers.

“I understand.”

He sighs. “In the last week alone, a Blood Mage slaughtered an old vampire family and robbed them of their wealth. Another pulled the limbs off a shifter woman when she rejected him. Another burned down an office building, trapping everyone inside. These monsters are cocky as fuck. They think they’re untouchable. We don’t know why they’ve become so powerful, but they have to be dealt with. Each attack is becoming worse than the last. The boss says they’re fucking spitting in our faces and daring us to try them. The thing is, if you can’t succeed with the asset’s help, we don’t know what we’re going to do. This has to work.”

“Got it.” My stomach churns. The Enforcers are scared.

“And the expectation is that you do succeed, Max. All eyes are on you now. I can’t promise what will happen to you or your team if you fail your mission.”

A warning and a threat. Great. “Understood.”

He’s quiet. I get the sense he wants to say more. “Be careful out there.”

“Yes, sir.” The call ends, and I slip my phone into my pocket, trying not to focus on his words.

I hear rustling from down the hall. The sound of horseplay. I poke my head out and call down, “You two better not be wrinkling your tuxedos!”

Orson stumbles into view from the kitchen. He clears a playful grin from his lips and smooths his hair with both hands. “Showing your brother a few stretches.”

Braxton enters the hall to hook an arm around Orson’s neck. “In return for a few moves.”

I shake my head. At least they’re getting along . I just hope it’s not at the expense of the mission. Jitters take many forms, I learned that during my time in the service. Those that exorcized them through play fared better than those who wallowed in dread. “How’s everything fit?” I ask.

They turn to one another and adjust each other’s bowtie. “You look spiffy, Orson,” Braxton says in a proper little voice.

“Dapper as any man’s ever looked, Braxton,” Orson says, giving a little bow.

You’d think they were headed to prom instead of battle. In their defense, this is a peculiar way to meet the enemy. Even I don’t know exactly how to process it. How to feel. I rummage for the pre-mission angst, but where it would ordinarily be found, I discover only focus. That should be reassuring, yet I can’t shake the sense I’ve missed something.

And it’s this mystery that finally sets off my nerves.

We’re going in blind. No matter how many times Orson runs the program, we can’t verify the count. We don’t know the exact layout of the compound, nor at what point in the proceedings Simon intends to make his entrance.

There are just too many variables.

But I’ve already decided no member of our team — of our pack —is going to die tonight. No matter the cost to the mission. It’s antithetical to Enforcer philosophy, but I’m no longer an Enforcer first. I’m Asha’s mate above everything. Asha and her well-being take precedent.

Last night’s flight of fancy has congealed in my thoughts to become my singular goal. The charming house on an acre of land, next to the woods, neighbored by the Blood Pack. The tire swing hanging from the bough of a willow tree in the front yard. The three to five children and all the noise and wonderful nuisance that come with them. Heaven .

Nobody will take this from us, not the Enforcers, not the Blood Mages, not Simon — or whatever the fuck has replaced Asha’s brother.

Tonight, I lead my team to victory. There is no other path.

The man in the mirror looks back at me with a cold and resolute stare. At his sides hang fists squeezed into hard balls, fingers tucked neatly into palms, knuckles white and ready to strike. In his eyes lurk the pacing beast of his wolf, snarling with its hackles raised and head lowered.

I step out of the bedroom to join Braxton and Orson in the kitchen. “Listen, nobody dies tonight,” I tell them, not mincing words.

“Not even Blood Mages?” Braxton asks bearing a wiseass smirk.

I don’t let him distract me. “At the first whiff of real danger to any of us, we abort.”

They flick their eyes at one another, then back to me. “The objective—” Orson starts.

“Fuck the objective,” I say emphatically, cutting him off. “The objective is last night’s dream, got it? Nothing else matters now. The only way to get to that dream is to free her pack and handle Simon, but that doesn’t mean it needs to be done tonight. If we can’t do it safely, we don’t do it.”

I know it’s not what Asha wants, but it’s the truth. If you go into a mission thinking that you have to accomplish your task, no matter the situation, you’ll likely end up dead. If you prepare yourself to pivot as needed and understand that you just need to live to fight another day, things change.

We just need to do our best. And survive.

“We can’t fight another day if we don’t survive,” I tell them, emphasizing each word.

Each inspects his own heart to find the same priority written there. They both nod. “Sure,” says Braxton.

“Pack over all,” says Orson.

I pull them together in a huddle. “Pack over all,” I echo.

“What’re you boys conspiring about?” The huddle breaks as we turn to watch Asha descend the stairs. By some magic foreign to me, she’s gathered up all the light in the room to wear its radiance like an accessory. Stunning . It's the only word for it. Or perhaps breathtaking, as the air suddenly seems scarce. When’s the last time I felt this intimidated by a woman? Likely never.

The blue dress she wears falls around her like a flower. Its delicate petals are like tiers of a waterfall as they stream down her body. The blue fabric is gathered above one leg, revealing the beauty of her flesh. It has a low neckline and thin straps, and the pale fabric floating over her pale skin is perfection.

She reaches the first floor like an angel descending from heaven, stilettoed feet delicately lighting on the carpet. “You…look…incredible,” I whisper. For some reason, volume feels irreverent so I make my voice as soft and gentle as her presence.

“Amazing,” Braxton adds.

“Superb, exquisite, ravishing, spellbinding—” Asha presses her index against Orson’s lips.

“Thank you, Orson, but the stunned look on your face is enough.”

His cheeks flush. “Beautiful.”

She gives him a soft peck, then one to both of us, before stepping back to review our presentation. “So handsome ,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “Tuxedos suit you well.”

If only this was an actual ball . I think of the violence to come and it taints the moment. Asha spies the dark cloud overhanging me, and steps in to banish it with a kiss. But when we separate, I see its mirror image held aloft by her own reserve. I clasp her face between my hands. “No tragedies tonight.”

Her voice quavering, she replies, “I don’t think you can make that promise, Max.”

Yet, I’m making it to you. No matter what I have to do, I’m going to make sure you all leave safely. “At the first sign of real trouble, we abort.”

The dog chimes in with a soft ruff . “Not you, Trouble,” says Braxton, slackening the tension. “You have a new bone to focus on. That’s your responsibility.”

His teasing tone doesn’t distract me from my message. We all need to be on the same page. They need to understand. Things will only get worse if I call for a retreat and one of us doesn’t listen. I wouldn’t trade our team for anything, but I haven’t properly trained them to understand how important it is to obey. Obeying a line of command keeps you alive, when you have the right commander.

And I’m the right commander for us. I think. I hope.

“Seriously.” I stare into her honey brown eyes. “We’re all walking out of there. And not a scratch on you.” I flick my gaze south to her dress. “Or this hot number. I want it to look just like this when I rip it off you later.”

There, who says I’m all Enforcer?

“Hey, now,” Braxton protests, grinning. “Who says you get the privilege?”

“It would be a shame to see something so trivial come between brothers.” Orson feigns sincerity as he drops a hand on my shoulder, then Braxton’s, passing his gaze between us. “Which is why it is I who will do the ripping.”

Some of the worry fades from Asha’s face, and she smiles. The kind of smile that men move mountains for. “Maybe it can be a Thanksgiving wishbone type deal,” Asha offers. “You all grab hold at the same time, then tear. The man who comes away with the most fabric gets the first kiss.”

Her words settle between us. When Asha’s calm, we’re all calm. She’s the connection between us all.

“See, that’s thinking,” says Braxton. “Our mate’s one-of-a-kind.”

“A wise solution,” Orson agrees, and his gaze holds a lifetime of love as it falls on her.

The light mood belies the night’s grave task. When Asha glances at the clock, its hands read 7:42 and it’s a reminder of what we must do. Her expression rearranges, not quite dour, something closer to determination.

“Are we all ready, then?” Braxton asks, giving Trouble a little pet, before handing the dog his bone once more.

It felt like it, but I was forgetting something. Something important.

“Before we go,” she says, hesitantly, “I should probably feed.”

Yes, of course, that was in. Her magic is integral to our plan. She needs to be properly fed, so her magic will be at its most powerful.

“And leave you guys a little time to eat and rest before we go,” she adds.

I look at my brother and then Orson, who then look at each other before loosening their collars. Asha approaches me first, but before I offer my throat up to her canines, I reiterate my stance. “You’ve given enough, Asha. Don’t give the little you have left.” Between the words is my plea that she not martyr herself.

She nods in understanding. I hold her gaze in the hopes that my urgency transfers. I mean it, Asha. I refuse to lose you . She hovers close, heat from her breath spilling along the slope of my neck. The tips of her sharpened teeth at first graze the flesh, then sink in a swift plunge, like getting a shot. The pinch gives way to titillation, a thousand ants tap dancing beneath the flesh around the wound, their number doubling with every passing second until the feeling envelops me. My whole body slips into a state of deep relaxation and pleasure.

Though past feedings have precipitated sexual encounters, we’re all business tonight. When she finishes with me, she moves onto my brother, then Orson, each in turn allowing the pleasure to pass through them, then in its wake steeling themselves for the action to come.

As the blood makes its way back into my brain, I turn to the others. “Ready?”

Asha smiles. “First, eat and rest, then we go.”

I don’t argue, because, like I said, this isn’t going to be a suicide mission for us. We’re going to go in strong, no matter what it takes, and we’re going to survive.

Even if the odds are against us.