Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Scottie

I track Zane to an elegant building in mid-town and catch the door as a woman comes out with two mop-top dogs. The place is beyond fancy and if my world wasn't spinning off its axis, I probably would've been taking it all in and reminiscing about the days when I lived in a palace instead of a postage stamp flat in Manhattan.

Being here feels both familiar and foreign.

Zane was my touchstone for twenty-one years. We were more than friends—we were everything. I believed in the fairy tale of us against the world and lost my footing when that dream shattered.

Huntley had been training with my father for a couple of years by then and was there to pick up the pieces…

But he was no better.

When the elevator lets me off on the thirty-sixth floor, I stride to the end of the hall and stare at the suite plate mounted to the wall beside the door. This is going to hurt.

I stretch my neck from side to side, letting the pop of my vertebrae settle back into place. I've been putting this behind me for seven years. Rebuilding my core beliefs. Finding the strength of my own identity…

I'm not the same girl I was at twenty-one.

But standing here, knowing that I'm about to see them…

That I have to face them…

Forgive him, lass. My father's words echo in my mind and threaten to break the wall of anger holding me together.

I don't think so, Da. Sorry.

I take a deep breath, pushing down the hurt that threatens to overwhelm me. What's done is done. And the truth is, we've got monumentally bigger problems to worry about than me being rejected.

I shake out my hands, hoping to steady my nerves, and raise my fist to knock.

The rhythmic sound echoes in the hallway, and I steel myself for what's to come. The door swings open, and there he is—Huntley's towering six-foot-six frame fills the doorway, his expression morphing from surprise to wariness. "Scotland?"

I don't meet his gaze. I focus on his throat instead, keeping my voice steady. "I need to see Zane."

He bends, dropping into my field of vision, his gaze locked on the damage to my cheek. "Who did this to you?"

"That's what I need to speak to Zane about."

"Zane's busy. Look, if you need me to slay someone for you, I'm more than happy to do it."

I raise my gaze and absorb the hit as our eyes lock. Huntley is a breathtaking All-American type: golden blonde hair, athletic build, shoulders that go on for miles, and blue eyes you could actually drown in.

He's gorgeous, and he knows it.

I peg him with as much venom as I can manage in one ball-shriveling glare. "I don't need you or any man to slay my dragons. The only thing I need is for you to get the fuck out of my way, so I can speak to Zane."

Something dark stirs in his gaze, but he shrugs it off and backs up to let me in. The moment I step inside, he closes the door behind me and engages the lock.

Now it's him who glares. "Wait here."

When he turns to go get Zane, I seize my moment.

I move swiftly, adrenaline and new power surging through my veins. I run at him from behind, launching myself into the air. My arms wrap around his neck, and my legs lock around his waist as I cling to his back.

Surprise ripples through him, but it's too late.

I tighten my grip and twist.

The snap of his neck eases some of the fury I've endured since I left, but not much. As the two of us drop, I get my feet planted and do my best to lower him to the marble floor without causing him more injury.

He'll wake up in an hour or two and be hugely pissed, but whatevs. "It sucks to be on the receiving end of being blindsided, doesn't it?"

I stare down at him, glad my emotions have retreated and shut off for the day. His betrayal might hurt even more than Zane's. I lift my sneaker and give him a solid kick in the junk. "Asshole."

Swiping at the moisture building in my eyes, I suck in a lungful of the here and now and get back on track. Time to find Zane and get out the door before company arrives.

Zane

Nothing is soothing the restlessness thrumming in my blood tonight. The couple has gotten off countless times and still I can't get ahead of the dark anxiety prickling my insides.

What's wrong with me?

I close my eyes and focus on the human's blood coating my tongue as it glides down my throat. He's going to come again. His blood gives off a delicious spice when he's about to lose himself.

My balls tingle as the pressure builds for the orgasm torturing me. I've fed and fucked and yet I feel less sated than when we began.

"You need more, my prince. Take me as you will." The vampire male smiles at his lover as I retract my fangs. "He won't mind watching."

My breath is coming hard and fast when I give up on feeding and rise to fuck the vampire male senseless. I grip my cock, tugging to prime it good and hard. "On your knees. Same rules."

The vampire scrambles into position, swipes a handful of lube from the squeeze bottle, and then drops onto all fours. "Same rules. Punish me as long and as rough as you need, my prince. When you're done, we leave, and it never happened."

"Grip the footboard."

He surrenders without hesitation. Facing the solid slab of carved walnut, he grips the bed frame and gives me a glorious view of his ass.

Damn him. He's right. I need this. I grip my shaft and sweep the engorged tip through the lube he set in place. With one hand on the bone of his hip, I thrust forward and breach the tight constriction.

The vampire tenses, letting off a throaty hiss.

Yes, I could've done the whole ease inside inch-by-inch thing to get some glide going before I penetrated him fully, but I warned them about my mood.

Besides, the vampire enjoys a little punishment.

We've shared countless evenings like this, and they always come back for more. At first, that was enough to fill the aching emptiness. Now I'm certain no one can fix what's broken inside me.

Except, maybe…

Enough thinking. Closing my eyes, I get out of my head and focus on feeling something—anything.

One thing I love about being a true-blood is my physical endurance. I've been with enough partners of born vampire blood, mixed hybrids, turned, and humans—magical and not—and know the difference of how they tire.

I could do this all night.

My breath comes in throaty bursts as heat and need build in my sac. The smell of sex is thick in the air as the steady hammering of flesh against flesh has the bed groaning with each powerful thrust.

Yes. Finally.

Sweat coats my face and chest and adds another layer of sensation.

Yes. I'm close.

"Get out!" At the hard bark of a woman's voice, my eyes flip open, and my fury rises. I'm not finished. My lips peel back off my fangs and I let off a long, guttural warning.

"Who the fuck do you think—" I glare at the blonde storming toward me and my mind stalls out. "Scottie?"

She looks the same except…

The scent of her blood hits me like a sucker punch to the gut and short-circuits something inside of me. The beast within reels and I'm off the bed and across the room before even one more racing beat of her heart.

"You're bleeding." I drop to one knee, pressing my hand against her side as the rich bouquet of her blood fills my sinuses. "Who did this to you? I will rip their fucking throats out."

"Pants first. Murder second."

The command reminds me that I'm still naked and very much erect… and the couple is still here… and they're staring at Scottie. The vampire's gaze is on Scottie and, with her blood flowing, her scent has definitely caught his attention.

Something carnal and possessive takes hold and my fingers curl as I stand. My fangs lengthen, and then my eyes burn scarlet. "Leave us, now!"

The vampire hesitates, locked in by his lust for a taste.

I step in front of her, ready to slay him if he even leans in our direction. "She is not for you, vampire. She is mine ."

The terror in the human's gaze as he tugs on his partner's arm seems to break through the spell of blood lust. A moment later, they scramble to grab their belongings and race for the door.

Their leaving doesn't begin to soothe the homicidal urge possessing me.

I wait until the latch of the door clicks into place before I dare to move, because the lock of my muscles might be the only thing keeping me from ripping them to shreds. When I hear them dressing in the outer room, I allow myself to breathe again.

Scottie's backpack is hiding her injury from me, but blood has soaked down the hip of her pants to her thigh. "You're hurt. Let me heal you."

"No. I'm fine."

I stare up at her and the damage on her cheek offends everything in me. "You are far from fine. I smell your pain and see the haunting anguish in your eyes. You were right to come to me. I will heal you?—"

She curses and steps away. "Zane, get dressed." Her words hold none of the sweet innocence I remember as she glares at me. "Pants. Now!"

Right. Of course.

With the heightened speed of my race, I rush to the washroom, clean up, and return a moment later with my cock put away and looking respectable in black jeans and a green Henley.

The bedroom's empty…

I race out to the main suite. My breath catches in my throat at the thought that the vampire returned or that maybe seeing her had been a mirage and she'd never been there at all.

But no.

Scottie is in the entryway, practically shoving the couple out the door. Does she have no self-preservation? When did she become so reckless? Did she miss the part where that male vampire was set to pounce on her?

When she turns back, she steps over Huntley's massive frame lying prone on the floor. What the hell?

My ire about her endangering herself is forgotten. I'm across the floor as fast as my feet will carry me and kneeling at his side. "What the fuck happened to Huntley?"

I'm getting situational whiplash right now. I don't even know what's happening. I examine Huntley lying on the floor, my racing pulse throbbing in my ears.

Scottie comes over and grabs my wrist, pulling my attention away from Huntley. "Forget him and listen to me."

"Did you miss the fact that Huntley is unconscious?"

"Since I'm the one who snapped his neck, no. I'm aware."

I blink, narrowing my gaze on her. She's had a night—I can see that—but why the hell would she put Huntley down? The two of them used to be tight—so much so that Huntley's been a cold dick to me every time I mention her since the day she left us.

I scoop Huntley off the floor and carry him to the sofa. It guts me that she broke his neck, but he'll heal. That, at least, calms some of the chaos churning within me.

Once he's laid out on the cushions, I straighten to give her my full attention. "What the hell is going on with you, Scots?"

She juts her chin forward and meets my gaze. "I went to the compound to surprise Da for his birthday tomorrow. I snuck in using the tunnels and heard him swearing at someone in his office. When I looked through the mirror, there was a turned bitch there with a couple of thugs. They had Da tied to his desk chair and were after you and the dagger. It was a fucking coup d'état ."

My mouth falls open. "A coup ? Inside the compound?"

"They obviously had someone on the inside, otherwise they never would've gotten inside the royal living quarters."

I run my fingers through my hair and race back to my room to grab shoes and socks. "Is that what happened to your cheek? You jumped in to fight with Bran?"

"There was nothing I could do for Da. The woman and her followers had been there a while." She stops pacing and her expression melts into a devastating sadness. "I'm sorry, Z, but they killed your father."

The words echo in the surrounding room, and I stare at her lips. They are as lush and pink as I remember, but they couldn't possibly have said what I think I heard.

"No… that's not possible. He upped security. That's why I've been stuck on the outside for the past two months. Heinrich and his family were killed in a similar situation a couple of months ago, and he wanted to be sure…"

My mind blanks out and I can't even go there.

My father can't be dead. I wave away her words. "You must've misunderstood the situation… or they were bluffing to get Bran to cave."

The sheen of tears filling her bright hazel eyes squeezes my heart. "I didn't misunderstand, Zane. They killed your father. Believe me. I saw he was dead and watched as the bond took Da to join him in death."

This can't be happening.

I close the distance between us and move to wrap my arms around her without thought.

She steps back, shoving me away with a force that sends me stumbling backward. "Don't. I am gutted by what happened, but I'm not here to let you into my life again. I'm here because of this."

She extends her arm between us and my gaze locks onto my family crest inked into her skin. "Wait. That's a squire's mark."

"I'm aware."

"How?"

She rubs her hand over the mark as if it offends her. "Da must've had a last-minute change of heart because he transferred his squire powers to me. So, like it or not, we're stuck with one another."

Like it? I fucking love it. Thank you, Bran McCullough.

I've tried to make amends with Scottie a dozen times over the years and she has shot me down or avoided me at every attempt.

Now we're bound.

It's like winning the lottery on the worst day of my life. But then another thought strikes me and I glance toward the mountain of Viking vampire lying unconscious on the sofa.

Huntley has dedicated his life to his training and becoming my squire. He had nothing and being Bran's successor became his everything. Why would Bran take that away from him? "He's going to be crushed by this."

She shrugs. "I had no say. It was Da's choice who should succeed him. Maybe he wanted me back in this life. Maybe he thought we'd take care of each other. Or maybe he thought Huntley had something to do with the enemy seizing the compound and iced him out. I don't know."

"Huntley?" I can't wrap my head around that. Every protective instinct within me balks at that. "No way. He can be an arrogant asshole, but he's no traitor."

"You can't know that for sure."

"I can and I do."

"How can you be so sure?"

Because I know it soul deep. Huntley's my bodyguard and we crossed a line when he became more than that. But he's more than a fantastic fuck. He's my best friend, my conscience, and my confidante. There's no way he'd be part of the plot against me and my father.

But I can't very well tell her that.

"If Huntley were the traitor," I say, grasping for something to prove to her she's wrong, "the turned fanger bitch and her seethe would already be here. The fact that you had time to find me and get here proves Huntley wasn't involved."

She scoffs. "No, it doesn't, and until we know for sure, he's not part of this—he can't be."

"Part of what?"

She gestures to the door. "Part of us dropping off the radar while we secure the dagger and figure out how to slaughter these assholes. I don't care what it takes, Zane. Our revenge will be the stuff of legends. We will flay these fake-fanged fuckers for what they did to our fathers."

Scotland stands strong before me, with her gaze hard, her cheek oozing, and her clothes stained with blood. Why did I think I needed to protect her from who and what I am? How could I have been such an idiot?

She's utter perfection and the piece of my soul that's been missing for over seven years.

I study Huntley lying on the sofa and my heart squeezes in my chest. I don't want to leave him here like this, but Scottie's back and she's hurting and panicked.

I press a hand to my chest. Can a man's heart physically cleave in two? It sure as fuck feels like it.

"Okay, we'll go… but you're wrong about Huntley and we're both going to owe him one hell of an apology the next time we see him."

Her gaze hardens. "I owe him nothing."