Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Tucker

Z ane's warning has me arching a brow over Scotland's shoulder, but I'm in no hurry to let her go just yet. That kiss was unexpected, but it proved to me what I already expected—something magical is happening between us.

And from what Jack told me, Scotland and Zane grew up being an inevitability until Zane hurt her and she moved away to start a new life.

So, if she's not his…

"Lady's choice, Zane. The lady is free to kiss me whenever and wherever she chooses."

"Before this devolves into an alpha male pissing match, let's put some distance between you two." Scotland wriggles in my arms and I set her on her feet. "We're about to have an influx of Vasari clan members joining us and destroying the place won't do anyone any good."

"As you wish." I give Scotland some space, but not so much that I couldn't grab her if the vampire loses control of his beast and takes a run at us.

"Zane? Can you please heal Jack?" Scotland's question hangs in the air as the vampire and I continue with our staring match. "Zane! Enough! Please help Jack."

Zane's focus moves from me to my father lying on the couch and he seems to get control of himself. "Of course."

I give Scotland a little tug to pull her out of the way as Zane moves closer and to my delight, she comes without hesitation. When we're standing far enough to not interfere with the healing, I brush the back of my hand against hers where it hangs at her side.

Man, touching her sooths the magic within me like nothing I've ever felt before. It's addictive.

"He's beaten up, but he's tough. And with the strength and purity of Zane's healing, he'll be on his feet in no time."

She shifts her hand and laces our fingers together, squeezing. Energy zings between us and she looks up at me. "You feel that, too, right? I'm not crazy?"

"I feel it."

"Good, because last night you looked as startled by the connection of flesh on flesh as I felt, but now your expression gives nothing away."

I wink at her. "I have a theory, but like you said, we're expecting guests at any time."

Her dark blue gaze searches mine and though I see her curiosity, there's an element of trust there, too. "I can't tell you how relieved I am that you and Jack are here. I thought I might lose all three of my father figures in one horrible night. And I worried I sent you back and something might have happened to you."

I release her hand and lay my arm across her shoulders, pulling her to my side. "Then we're even because I've been worried, too. I hated watching you go off on your own last night. It went against every protective instinct I possess to leave you and return to the compound."

The gentle quake of her body against mine has me looking down and my heart breaks to see the tears silently streaming down her lovely face.

"Hey, what can I do?"

She swipes at her tears and wipes her hand on the denim of her jeans. "It's my father's birthday today, and it's hitting me hard. I came home to celebrate with him."

Shit. That's rough. "Jack mentioned that you're Bran's daughter. His death is a loss, for sure. Everyone I've met within the compound loved and respected him."

She straightens, glancing around as if for a box of tissues or something. Vampires aren't big with the waterworks, but I've got her covered.

My mama taught me to carry a cloth handkerchief. She'd say, ‘It's not for you. It's for the ladies in life who need it.'

Mama was a smart woman.

I hand her the pressed square, hoping this is what she was looking for. "I've got you."

She accepts the token, wiping her tears until she raises her head. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be. I can't imagine coming home to celebrate with someone I love, only to witness what you did. If I could rewind the world and take that moment away from you and replace it with something different, I would."

She blinks quickly, her glassy eyes welling up with moisture as she fights not to fall apart again. "Thank you. That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time."

How can that be? "Then you've been spending time with the wrong people."

Her gaze falls to where Zane is kneeling over Jack on the couch. Her warring emotions are like an acrid cocktail singeing my nostrils when she looks at him.

That's none of my business. She's a capable female and can make her own choices.

When she turns to look at me, the crease between her brows smooths out and she gives me a sad smile. "Even if you could turn back time, I wouldn't let you. In those last minutes, I saw my father fighting the fight. He was brave and died what he considered a death of honor. He followed his best friend into the after, and he told me he loved me."

"You're lucky to have that." Zane joins us, his expression hard and cold. "I got to watch my father beheaded alive from the security feed I downloaded from a safe house."

Scotland flinches and I fist my hands. Does he not realize that it's as hurtful for her as it is to him?

Movement on the couch breaks the grief of the moment as Scotland sees my father waking up. "Oh, Jack."

Her whispered gasp has him turning his head and forcing one eye open enough to see her. "It looks worse than it feels, kid."

"I doubt that very much."

I chuckle. "No. He's telling the truth. He smoked a very potent blend of Haze right before you arrived and then had some premium vamp healing. He's likely feeling no pain."

Scotland pegs me with a look, her brows raised. "When you said he was doped up, you weren't kidding."

"Lesson one about me, beautiful. I only speak the truth."

"And with him incapacitated, were you holding the cigarette for him? Because there's no way he could lift his arms."

I hold up my palms, unrepentant. "What Jack wants, Jack shall have. And since he feels better and will now heal up fully, let's take that as a win."

She chuckles. "Well, I won't fault you for wanting to feel no pain."

"That's my girl," Jack says.

She sits on the coffee table in front of the couch and shakes her head. "I should've stayed and fought. I'm sorry."

"No, you did the right thing."

"But with Tucker and I there, you wouldn't have ended up beaten to a pulp."

"And the Vasari Sacred Squire might be dead, leaving Zane to never know the honor of being protected by you. No. You did the right thing. All is as it's meant."

It's just like Jack to wax philosophical about things.

Still, I understand her guilt—hell, I share it.

Dad shifts his head a touch and finds me standing there. "You got to safety and sent Tuck back. That made all the difference. If he hadn't tracked me down, I might've kicked it behind the dumpster, and no one would've found me until I was stinking up the alley. You did your part."

Even the thought of that makes my stomach whorl.

I grunt. "I didn't have to track you. I just followed the trail of dead vampires."

"Good riddance," Jack mumbles.

"You're tired." Scottie leans over him, searching for a spot of skin that isn't cut, bruised, or swollen. In the end, she kisses her own finger and then touches his neck. "Feel better, old man. I'm glad you're not dead."

"Right back at you, kid. We'll start your training the minute I get back on my feet."

She flashes him a tight smile and her scent spikes with guilt and sadness. What's that about?

"We'll circle back around to that once you stop bleeding every time you move. For right now, rest. When you're better, Zane and I will take you back to the safe house where we're staying."

Zane stiffens. "What? Why?"

She straightens, meeting his abruptness with her own. "Because Jack is the only true Sacred Squire here and will know what to do to keep you safe. Also, there will be fifty or sixty clan vampires arriving here over the next hour, including distraught children. It will be chaos and Jack needs rest."

Zane seems to consider that for a moment, but then dips his chin. "Of course. That makes sense."

What's his hesitation? I don't think it has anything to do with my dad resting in the spare room. If I were a betting man, I'd say he either doesn't want to share Scottie's attention or he doesn't want me in close quarters with her.

Zane's head swivels and the warning glare he pegs me with almost makes me laugh out loud.

Zane Vasari is staking his claim.

That's fine—let him. It's Scotland's choice, not his. And while the two of them might have a history, her attraction to me is like a freaking aphrodisiac.

Jack's head lolls slowly to the side until the bit of his eye that can open finds me. "Get food into her. She doesn't eat enough when she's upset and with her powers taking hold, she needs carbs."

I nod and hold out my hand. "The master has spoken."

She arches a brow, but there's no heat behind it. "And do I get a say in this?"

"What Jack wants, Jack shall have, remember?"

She looks like she's about to argue when her stomach sounds off in an aggressively loud cry for nourishment. Color flushes her cheeks as she presses a hand over her tummy. "Fine. I could eat."

Jack seems content with that and closes his eyes.

Zane

Tucker and Scottie head over to the kitchen and into the walk-in pantry. This location is basically kitted-out like a bomb shelter and has enough in the storage rooms and blood bank to hold Clan Vasari over for a year.

"You won't win her back by getting possessive, son. The days of you having a monopoly on her heart are over."

I sit on the coffee table opposite Jack and flex my fingers to lessen my urge to release my claws and shred his son. "She's going to ask you how to release the squire powers, so she can gift them to someone else. Whatever happens, you will not tell her how it's done."

"Is that a command from the Vasari King?"

I hear the disapproval in his tone and drop forward, catching my face in my hands. "Fuck. I don't know how to get through to her and now she's looking at your son like he's the cherry on her orgasm sundae."

Jack chuckles, then moans and cuts that off quickly. "Tucker's a good-looking boy and he'll treat her well. You know that."

"That doesn't make me feel any better, old man."

Even with only a sliver of his gaze making it through the swelling, the power of his stare comes through. "We both know how stubborn she gets. If you push her, she'll just dig her heels in. If you want her to want to be at your side, you can't make it a battle of wills."

"But she doesn't understand. I love her. I've always loved her. It was never about her not being worthy, it was about me. It has always been about me."

He chuckles. "Exactly. It has always been about you ."

I don't like the edge in his tone, but he's not wrong. Being raised as an only child and a prince often made life about me.

"I've grown a lot since then."

"And so has she."

I tip my head back and stare at the coffered ceiling, begging the universe for someone to say something that doesn't make me homicidal. "Give me time before letting her run away from me. Bran gave me a second chance. Please don't take that away from me."

"And what if she doesn't come around, son? If she falls for Tucker or another man, are you prepared to love her enough to see her happy with someone else?"

The feral growl that tears from my throat is nothing I can control. "I'm barely holding it together. Don't even say things like that."

"So, not as grown up as you profess." His eye drifts shut. "Thanks for the healing, son. Don't worry. I won't have the strength to teach Scottie the transference ritual for at least a week or two. You've got time. Use it wisely."

I take a steadying breath and focus on the gift of time.

I'll make it work.

I'll fix it and show her I'm the man who makes her happy.

The bustling of footsteps brings the arrival of our clan members. The group sounds large and I'm glad. The more that are here, the stronger we are.

For the moment, I'll push aside my emotional baggage and be their king. But once we're back in the safe house tonight, all bets are off.

I hear their approach long before I see them. My father's witch is worth every penny he paid her. I must remember to call her and inform her of my father's passing. With the state of things, staying on good terms is a strategic necessity.

The magic of the witch's ward buzzes with power as the group pushes through the invisible barrier. Dozens of my people come through in a crowd, several of the royal guard taking the lead, then a few of the aggressive males, then the wives and children, then the rest.

"Welcome everyone. Please, make yourselves at home. There are bunk beds along the left wall in the shadows there for the children if they're tired after their ordeal. The bar is stocked along the right for those who need it."

"Thank you, my prince," Natalie says before catching herself. "I'm sorry, sire. My king… I should have said, my king."

"Think nothing of it, Natalie. These are chaotic times. We all have much to adjust to. Please, take little Nate in and get him settled."

Familiar faces continue to pass, some of them angry, some sad, all of them weary.

And then the man I've been waiting for arrives. My Viking bodyguard stands inches above the others and looks like he's taken a blood bath. He's sweaty and wrung out and covered in the blood of our enemy.

It's fucking hot.

I close the distance to him with quick, sure strides, and fight not to run. A king doesn't run. I take him in as I approach. He looks whole—pissed, but whole.

I wait until everyone passes us by and then I lead him back the way he came. In the shadows, we have a bit of privacy and I look him up and down. "I'm glad you're here. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

We both hear the lie in his voice, but with dozens of vampires just down the tunnel, this isn't the time or place.

"Tell me you got Benoit."

He tilts his head to one side and frowns. "Do you doubt me?"

I dip my chin and peg him with a look. "Never have and never will."

He grunts. "Could have fooled me. You sided with her and left me out in the cold."

"It wasn't about taking sides. It was about putting out fires. At that moment, she needed me. You didn't."

He grunts and sears me with a glare. "You look like shit, by the way."

"And is pointing that out supposed to make me feel better?" I wave my hand through the air. "Forget it. Just tell me you have Benoit secured somewhere close because I need to vent some adrenaline before I kill someone I would regret killing."

He presses his tongue to the tip of one of his fangs and chuckles. "Are you thinking of anyone specific?"

I am, but he doesn't need to know I'm jealous of Tucker getting close to Scottie. He's got his own axe to bear with the prodigal daughter.

I stretch my neck to each side, the pop-pop-pop of vertebrae doing nothing to ease the wildness within. I'm dangerous and focused on the promise of violence. If I don't get to shred something or someone soon, my beastly side is going to take hold.

"I'm losing my mind here, Huntley. Tell me where to find Benoit. I need this."

Huntley grins and leans close to whisper into my ear. "I know your needs better than anyone, Z. Have I ever left you hanging?"

No. He hasn't. He can be a prickly, arrogant asshole, but he's damned good at what he does. And often what he does is keep me level. "Where is he?"

He points to the large hockey bag lying on the ground behind him. "I snapped his neck for ease of travel. Knowing him, he'd shout something stupid and start drawing human attention."

I frown at the equipment bag lying dead still against the subway rail. Fucking hell. I want him awake and suffering when I lay into him. "Patience isn't one of my virtues right now, H. I'm losing it."

"Don't worry. It took us longer than expected to get everyone out of the compound. He should wake up shortly."

"Not soon enough."

"Then let's get you level."

If we were somewhere else, I'd pass the time by fucking him. With everyone in this tunnel having a heightened sense of smell, that's out. "Ignoring the fact that our entire clan is here, and anyone could come looking for us—the two of us can't very well waltz back to the group smelling of sex."

Huntley shrugs. "So, we make it quick. Odds are, once Benoit wakes up, you'll only smell like blood and death."

That's a good point.

And whether he's right or I'm just too far gone for reasoning, I grab him and shove him further into the darkness of the subway tunnel. Huntley is a beast, and I wouldn't move a mountain like him if he didn't want to be moved.

He stumbles back until his shoulders hit the concrete wall, and he lets out a grunt. With rough hands, I flip him around, so he's facing the wall.

I've got his ass right where I want it.

My fangs drop as my cock twitches behind the zipper of my slacks and my balls tingle with the heat of anticipation. "You sure this is a good idea? There's a lot of chaos surrounding us right now."

"Fuck me or I'll fuck you. Either way, you need to work off some energy."

I laugh. Huntley likes to think he's an alpha, but he's just an arrogant asshole. There's a big difference. And no, unless there are extenuating circumstances, he doesn't fuck me.

"Give me your ass."

Huntley makes quick work of dropping his tactical pants and bends forward to brace his palms on the concrete wall. I spit into my hand and work the moisture into the seam of his crack, then press a wet finger into the tight ring of his ass. I work the moisture in, sinking deeper until I'm twisting in up to my knuckle.

"Ah, the burning stretch of Zane in a hurry."

"You want me to stop?"

"No fucking way."

With my mental gift, I reach into his mind to experience what he's feeling. He doesn't notice the invasion—and doesn't know I do it—but it both amps me up and I can make sure he's good.

And that burning stretch he mentioned… yeah, it sends hot zinging pleasure straight to my balls.

I add a second finger, and his beastly side lets off a growl. There's a wildness to Huntley and I fucking love it. Removing my fingers, I give my cock a couple of rough strokes and then press it at his back entrance.

Huntley draws a deep breath and breathes through his nose, taking me like the fucking warrior he is. His pleasure and mine are a heady mixture and endorphins flood my body. Gripping his hip, I thrust forward, and my fangs drop even farther. "Your hand or mine?"

"Yours."

It's a good thing we're in utter darkness because my eyes are flaming scarlet. Mine. Yeah, I can do that.

Reaching around to the front with my free hand, I grip his cock and stroke him off as I drive into him from behind. His cock is rock hard and leaks precum from the crown.

"You did me right today, H. Now I'll show you my appreciation. You're a good soldier. My good soldier."

Huntley growls, grinding backward against my thrusts. "Just fuck me, Z. Shut up and fuck me."

My balls tighten as my hips kick up the tempo and I drive into him like a fucking machine. The sound of concrete cracking beneath his palms is no surprise. I've got a lot of pent-up energy to unleash and I'm driving into him hard.

I can't be gentle when my beast is so close to the surface. True-bloods are wilder and more feral than half-bloods and hybrids—and Fondatori royals are the strongest of the true-blooded vampires.

"Get out of your fucking head, Z," Huntley pants. "You promised me a workout."

Arrogant asshole. "You asked for it."

I let my beast take the reins fully and release my hold on his cock, gripping both his hips as I hammer inside him. The two of us have gone down this rabbit hole more times than I can count and I fucking love it.

Connected as we are, I'm burning with his pleasure and mine. His breath is coming hard and fast. His release is burning at the base of his cock, about to break free.

I'm close, too. Sweat tingles over my skin, the sound of flesh on flesh and throaty grunts muffled by our need to stay undiscovered.

With the sensory bombardment and Huntley's need to connect, his loyalty, his passion… it's too much.

My release takes hold, and the world gives way to intense euphoria. My beast roars in my head, and to keep from letting it free, I arch forward and bite the meaty flesh of Huntley's collarbone, right through his shirt.

The sweet tang of his blood washes over my tongue as hot ribbons of cum surge out of me and I ride out my release. I slide my hand around his hips and stroke Huntley's cock root to tip until he's spent as well.

When we've both ridden out our releases, I step back, heaving. As I pull oxygen into my lungs, I lock gazes with my best friend and lick the spill of his cum off my hand. "This was reckless."

"But you needed it."

He's right. I did. The two of us pull ourselves together and tuck ourselves away. We've barely finished when a muffled moan sounds from the equipment bag on the ground.

Problems forgotten, I grab the handles of the bag, the thunder of vengeance surging through my racing pulse.

Benoit is the weakest link in our seethe.

That fact will soon be rectified.