CHAPTER 2
Bishop swung his leg over Belle Noir, sitting on her wide leather mouth. “I’m getting ready to call Nitro,” he told 8-Bit on the phone. “We need to find out what’s behind these Drysdale’s generous offer, pronto.”
“I think I did. Or your Belle Eveque did.”
“What do you mean?”
“She came by with Mah-Mah when dropping off jewelry.”
“Jewelry?”
“For the tracking bracelets.”
“Ah, oui, oui.” Bishop switched the phone to his better ear. “How’s the production coming with that?”
“I have a twenty-five-man team creating them as fast as we can. You still want them for all the children, oui?”
“I’d like the entire Hoard tagged, but we start with the most vulnerable for now.”
“Production speeds are two-hundred and fifty a day. I’m still recruiting able bodies to speed it up.”
“Any signs of that mole?”
“Not yet. But I have my drones combing the water ways for signs of enemy infiltration of the technological kind. Everything in me says Drysdale’s been at something for a bit, given what we’ve discovered.”
“You mentioned my Belle Eveque earlier.”
“I showed her the maps of all the land in the swamp and she wondered if she could have copies made and then she asked about everything as if you tell her nothing,” he said, finding that funny while Bishop waited for him to get to the glorious fucking point of what his sweet wife had done while visiting his place. “We eventually get to the Drysdale topic and she’s firing out questions. She wants to see what land he’s purchased, so easy enough, I print it out and she walks over to the map on the wall and places pins on all the ones he’s bought. She then steps back and points to the pins and asks, “Does that look kind of like a land bridge to you?”
His dick twitched at her genius. “And did it?”
“Oh, it sure did,” he muttered. “There’s no doubt in my mind he’s purchased all those pieces to create an access route he can control privately. He started this six months ago. If he’s been doing that, what else has he been up to?”
“And why not go to him for their trade route instead of us?”
“Probably because they know we have eyes everywhere and wouldn’t stand for it. They propositioned us first. Maybe that was just to test the waters, see where we stood?”
Bishop nodded. “Oui. And if we could be bought.”
“Still not sure why he’s giving the land back. Something’s fishy with that. Sure, he no longer needs it but something in my gut says it’s more.”
“He knows Nitro is ready to take him apart because of Felix. I think this is damage control before we discover more than he wants revealed.”
“Maybe. And that Noctambule, why bring that to these swamps? Fuckin’ seven kinds of ballsy.”
Agreed. “What do we know so far?” He still planned to personally interrogate him.
“His names Asher Ray. Supposedly he’s joined their archenemy, The Holy Order. He’s still in holding at the Weigh Station. Seer, Maggie and his father are in the process of draining as much info from him as they can.”
“Maggie?”
“Spook permitted.”
“Nice. So, what the fuck are the Drysdale’s doing with this Noctambule is the next question. They clearly want us to see their tie.”
“I’m still running Drysdale’s sneaky ass down. I’ll let you know when I find more out.”
“Any theories?”
“Looking to befriend the enemies of the Noctambule?”
Bishop nodded, agreeing with that. “Then let’s make him un fraire.”
“Hell no, not a brother. Maybe an ami. Vilain ami.”
“Vilain ami,” Bishop chuckled. “Chef sale-ami,” was more like it.
8-Bit laughed. “Chief dirty friend. Perfect.”
“Change of subject. Lesion called me with a medical update for Nitro.”
“Oh shit.”
“Wait till you hear this. He drew some of his blood and analyzed it, then he obtained one of her bats and ran his lil tests. You know what he tells me?”
“He’s batman?”
Bishop laughed. “Maybe close. He said he could develop a chemical compound to mimic the strongest male bats and you could possibly develop a device that mimics various calls which would—”
“Allow him to use the bats in war.”
“Without his petite getting in harm’s way.”
“You think it could work?” 8-Bit wondered.
“Lesion thinks it will. Not sure what it will require from you on the bat call, but…”
“I can easily match any sound, give it fingerprint access only in case it falls into the wrong hands.”
“How soon?”
“Depends on how long you plan to postpone the Ball.”
Bishop had to laugh at the hope in his tone. “We’re discussing those particulars at tonight’s Basilique meeting.”
“I can stand more time for intel,” 8-Bit said. “There’s things I need to double check before we lock down certain plans.”
“Like what?”
“Like more details on the Drysdale’s and their involvement. How deep do those ties run? There’s too many shadows at every turn in this road, I don’t like that.”
“Agreed. But we can’t delay too long. Five days tops. The arms’ exchange is first week of November. The Ball will hopefully draw our coven threats into the swamp where we have the upper hand. We capture or kill because we know they’re guilty and we rule these fucking swamps. If our Arms’ friends have ties with them, seh-lah-vee, we surely had no clue and are merely protecting our waterways and people from old and new threats. We’ll still give them their lil’ weapons shack and just before the bat-tie, we move them to that new location as planned. Then kill as many of these dirty fucks as we can. Ammo’s ours, swamps ours, wins ours. Oui?”
“It occurred to me.”
“What.”
“They’d be stupid not to have some kind of tracking on these firearms which means I need to design something that would block any and all types known in the techno realm.”
“That’s why you’re the giga-chad.”
“Oui. So, five days before the Ball.”
Bishop heard something interesting in his tone and had to grin. “Mon Frier, any time we have a problem in these swamps I can always count on you to meet it with some technological genius weapon.”
“And? You needing something?”
“I’m just wondering what you came up with about this marriage thing. I know you cooked up something. A gadget or program to deal with the threat?”
“Funny.”
Bishop’s laugh ripped at his bone-dry tone. “Come on, tell me. You developed something to find the perfect wife, I know you did. Some algorithms that give you the best possible option? And you input all those names who picked you and know your future bride. Who is she?”
“You sound like you’ve placed bets.”
“Perhaps,” he chuckled.
“Catherine Boone. From Bullet’s Hatch.”
Bishop’s laugh belted without restraint.
“Glad to entertain and I hope I made you rich. My question is who would’ve not guessed that about me. Damn right I did everything you said. I know what kind of woman I want, and I have enough information on the options to narrow down a selection for the interview where I verify my findings.”
“You’re supposed to pick five.”
“I did, but only as a back-up. She’s the perfect fit for me.”
“Mon Frier, do tell what you consider a perfect fit.”
“You bet on this too?”
“No, no, no,” he assured, laughing. “Just curious.”
“Well, you know I believe everything has a simple formula.”
“Oh, I do know this. And an algorithm.”
“Predictability, oui.”
“But Mon Frier,” Bishop said, holding back his laugh. “Women…”
“I am not under the superstition that they somehow magically escape the constructs of the universe. They’re different, that’s all.”
“Is that it?”
“It is. I don’t believe in the unpredictable. All glitches are merely complex predictions waiting to be analyzed, understood, and placed in their proper algorithms.”
“Mon Frier, you have no idea how happy it makes me that you have it all figured out. But tell me about this perfect woman of yours.”
“She’s exactly what I want and need which isn’t much. She’s independent, isn’t girly, already has a life she doesn’t intend to quit living—and that doesn’t include me—”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Bishop cut in. “This doesn’t sound like a marriage, it sounds like a distant relationship between friends. Ma Belle Eveque will surely not approve.”
“I can have a simple wife with minimal needs and still be a husband. I’m selecting the one with the least cause for unnecessary drama. She’s mature, she’s simple, she’s smart in all the right things.”
“Like?” he asked, laughter promising again.
“She”s been taking care of herself for years, alone.”
“She doesn’t need a husband is what you’re saying.”
“She doesn’t but she did sign up and she made no secrets about why.”
Bishop raised his brows. “Do tell.”
“She has a…differently abled brother as she calls it, and his ten-year-old son she takes care of. She signed up to merely to appease her nephew who has a super-hero level obsession for The Twelve.”
“Mon Dieu, she doesn’t want to win?”
“Nope.”
Bishop couldn’t keep his laugh back any longer.
“Her not wanting to win means exactly what I want in a woman. One who doesn’t need a man or even want one, but if she had one with compatible assets, one who also doesn’t have needs or wants for a partner, then we have a level field to negotiate the marital particulars from.”
Bishop was howling now.
“What is so fucking funny?” he begged in his bored tone making it funnier. “We’re at war, and we have no clue how long.”
“Oh, you are funny, Mon Frier.”
“You think I’m wrong.”
“No, no, no, I know you are.”
“How?” he charged, pissed now.
“When you put your dick in it, you’ll figure it out.”
“Not sure why simple biology has to wreck a perfect arrangement. You forget I’m not a virgin.”
“Oh, oui, this is true,” he conceded, still stifling chuckles. “I surely understand, as I too was no virgin.”
“And you’re that one anomaly that I haven’t had the privilege of dissecting.”
“And Spook?”
“Maggie,” he easily said to that anomaly.
“You know I have nothing but brotherly affections for you Mon Frier and wish only to see you…”
“Here we go,” he muttered, prompting more guffaws. “I’m meeting her tomorrow night to propose.”
“Propose? Marriage?”
“The arrangement,” he said. “And to meet her nephew as she requested.”
Bishop had to climb off his bike to pace at this news. “She requested this? When?”
“On the application.”
“How?”
“There was a section at the end asking for their personal reasons for choosing which was where she detailed her reason for entering being to appease her nephew. She offered to pay money if any one of us would go by for his birthday, but that I was his favorite.”
Bishop couldn’t stop the shake in his head, astonished with his computing in all this. “So, you don’t even know if she likes you!”
“Pretty sure she doesn’t like me,” he happily said.
“Mon Dieu,” he muttered. “Why can’t you just pick a fucking woman that likes you, and you like, and go all in?”
“Who said I’m not going all in?” he said in exasperation. “Who said you have to take a swan dive from a mile high cliff into the abyss of love? Why can’t I just casually stroll my way on level ground with a cool head?”
“I need popcorn for this one. So, you’re going over there and popping the…marriage arrangement…proposal.”
“Unless you give me a damn good reason I shouldn’t?”
Bishop stopped in his tracks, mentally holding his tongue still.
“Well?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Take your time. But I have to go. Text me your ancient wisdom.”
“Oui,” Bishop conceded, grinning more.
“But don’t worry, I’m not pretending to know everything and will happily accept any and all of your Belle Eveque’s resources. This mission is no different than any other I’ve taken with The Twelve. Excellence and success are the only options I allow for, you know this.”
“I do.”
“I will not stop till it’s done.”
“I know this too.”
“Till it’s done properly and to the most perfect extent I’m capable.”
“Oui, oui,” he said, fighting not to laugh. “Mah Belle Eveque has many relationship manuals you will be interested in, the physical and the emotional stuff.”
“Physical, good. I want all of them,” he said while Bishop almost laughed at his repeat of physical. No doubt his analytical mind was on fire with that vague gem.
“You are the giga-chad. I have utmost faith in you.”
“Just remember who started this mess. You did.”
“I did,” he conceded, smiling.
“There wasn’t a whole lot of prep between now and your breaching of the Twelve’s Code.”
Bishop’s snicker escaped. “Breaching.”
“More like violated if we”re going to get technical.”
Fuck, he was killing him.
“In a semi-normal setting, classes would’ve been ideal for this shit,” he went on, his anger gaining momentum.
Bishop nodded, wanting exactly that. All his inner giga-thoughts. “Classes can still be arranged. We have a six-month courtship,” he reminded.
“I remember, and I think it’s a waste of time, but I speak only for myself even while being damn sure there are no classes for men with Traps’ mindset.”
“Perhaps a safe house is necessary for my Twelve Warriors to learn how to survive these little females.”
“Says the one who already lost his balls.”
“No-no-no-no,” he lightly corrected with a shit-eating grin. “Grew a new pair.”
“A new pair, huh?”
“Oui, an entirely separate pair. My moss-colored steel ones are still there.”
“Hiding for their lives?”
“Waiting their turn,” Bishop assured around a fresh round of guffaws. “Trust me, Mon Frier, you will understand one day.”
“Right. Trust the one who sold The Twelve into sex slavery.”
Bishop lost it. “Sex slavery!” His phone buzzed and he looked. “Gotta go, my Belle Eveque’s calling.”
“Ah. Saved by the Belle,” he muttered. “Later.”
****
Nitro jolted awake, kicking and swinging his way out of the tangle of covers while the echo of bat screams clawed his eardrums. He stood, winded in the middle of a dark room, looking around. His head spun as he recognized the bed. Felix. Relief flooded him.
When had he gotten there? How long was he out? The questions hit his muscles and jacked him up with adrenalin. First step for the door and he faceplanted with a loud boom. “Fucking…” He made his way onto his hands and knees, feeling like a million angry ants chewed on his skin. Not ants. Fucking bats. Every part of him ached down to his bones.
Where was Felix? What time was it? He angled his head at the window. The light filtering through the sage green curtains said it was either early or late or overcast. He tried to remember where the sun set at her place as black screaming birds made sporadic flash appearances in his mind along with those Drysdale fucks. And the Noctambule.
Crawling his way to the bed, he pulled himself back on it and sat, exhausted. Lesion had come. Or had he dreamed it? He reached behind his ear and discovered an oily substance on his skin. Not a dream. He focused on remembering what he’d told him. Something about the bats and him making some kind of concoction to help him with the birds. Help how?
He angled his head at the sound of voices and searched for his phone, ready to get answers. His top seven men were there he remembered, and that fact filled him with alarm. Could have been standard safety protocol or it could have been they learned something that required it.
He got ready to stand, needing those answers. First Felix. Then the rest. No, second his fucking bladder before it burst.
He made it out of the room and swayed at the top of the stairs, listening to the ebb and flow of distant mumbles. Bracing his hands on the stair walls, he made his way to his ass when his muscles decided they were already done. “Fuck,” he whispered, panting and sweating. He tried to make out the number of voices and the gender. One was female but was it Felix? He maneuvered his way down the stairs, mostly on his rear end. At the bottom, he listened again, hearing only bird fuss now.
“Anybody there?” he called out, his words barely carrying past the racket. A minute later, he pulled himself up and aimed for the bathroom, desperate to relieve himself. Once inside, he meandered his way to the toilet and used the wall before him for support.
“Aaaagh fuck,” he gasped, every muscle in his body back to trembling as his bladder emptied slower than he needed.
Once done, he stepped left and grabbed hold of the sink, lifting his head to the mirror. Fuck, he exhausted. From the bites? Loss of blood? Some reaction to Lesion’s concoction?
He needed his fucking phone.
He turned on the water, resting his forearms on the sink, the cold splatters almost painful. He finally filled his hands with water and splashed it on his face, then chest. A full minute later, he straightened and eyed all the pissed red dots on his chest and shoulders. He turned a little, following the nonstop warpath that continued around his back. Cock, face, head, and feet were the only things unbitten.
His adrenalin spiked as his mind relived that moment when the bat vortex had devoured him. Maybe ten seconds. That’s all it took to turn him into a pin cushion spurting blood.
He recalled his Petite Rebell’s reaction and made his way to the door, needing to see she was okay. And feel her. Kiss her. Then make love to her.
In the foyer between the living room and kitchen, he angled his head at hearing a familiar sound that set his pulse hammering. His gaze landed on the door leading to that bat room and his pulse sped up even more. They sounded…agitated.
Thick premonition snapped his head to the doorway leading to the porch. He hurried out, his fear eliminating all pain as he looked around. He whipped his head toward voices. Definitely a female. He hurried along the porch, eyeing the overcast gloom while looking around for his men.
The mumbles grew louder, indicating he was moving in the right direction. Definitely Felix’s nippy tone. He rounded the first corner, searching the back yard as his heart clobbered his chest. His blood hit an invisible wall at finding her near the dock sitting on a bench. With Ray fucking Drysdale. He spotted two of his men nearby as his legs went terminator, eyes fixed on the prick perched on the bench in his fancy suit.
What the fuck was going on?
****
Felix’s heart tried to burst through her chest at the impossible sight of Nitro. “And there’s my husband,” she sang with a smile and wave, fighting to sound casual while pure rage and animalistic sex marked his steps. He was a visual orgasm and every female part salivated in hunger. But the fury, lord have mercy, that had her hairs standing on end. Took all her strength not to launch off that bench and hurry to explain what was going on. That couldn’t happen. Not after spending the past twenty minutes kindly demonstrating to Ray, the brother of that dump-truck-of-bullshit ex of hers that she was not the same na?ve woman that fell under the spell of a man. Racing off to meet her glorious god of a husband would wreck that and she wasn’t giving a single cent more of her pride for that fool. Even if she was one thousand percent takenwith Lukas. Mercy, was she ever and didn’t regret a second.
The second Ray stood, she did too and there was no stopping her legs from hurrying down the pier to meet Nitro. She headed directly for him but judging by his look and pace, he saw only one person and it wasn’t her. “Why are you up?” she cried. “You’re supposed to be recovering.”
Her hands landed on those washboard abs, and he finally tore his murderous gaze from the man and aimed it at her. “What the fuck’s going on?”
The power in his words hit her guts like a punch and she told herself it wasn’t aimed at her. “You’ll behave, because he’s here to bring the deed to my land, free and clear,” she muttered quietly.
His gaze moved along her face then lower before moving back up to her eyes, his fury back to full throttle. “What are you wearing?”
“It’s my honeymoon dress and I surely didn’t know I was having this type of company.”
He stared right into her gaze for many seconds, his two-colored eyes storming with so many delicious powers she couldn’t breathe. He grabbed her face, and his tongue was in her mouth, thrashing with a breath stealing hunger. The potency sucked away any fears or concerns other than meeting his needs properly. “J”ai besoin de baiser ma belle cher.” He whispered his hot French right in her mouth, making her legs weak. Swampsations, to hear such dirty words. She wanted them on her gravestone. Well, maybe a bracelet. I want to fuck my pretty wife might be a tad too scandalous.
She was suddenly set aside with his strong hands and staring at his backside. She swayed like a wilted flower in the wake of that kiss war he’d made on her mouth. And won.
“Hello, Mr. Lukas Dehmond. I was just here giving—”
“Where’s your brother.”
“He’s back in town, and I understand the hard feelings.”
“Do you,” Nitro accused with a seething disdain that unglued Felix from her spot and launched her toward them. “Get off this fucking property before I bury you here.”
“Was just leaving,” he hurried, raising both hands and side-stepping his massive frame before racing off with a “Good day, Miss Felix.”
She watched him run-walk down the pier looking like a cartoon in his pin stripe suit and silly top hat smack in the middle of a swamp. She turned and gasped at finding Nitro inches away, eyeing the man still. Her heart galloped as his closeness devoured her whole. She braced for his gaze, feeling it coming for her, knowing what it would do when it did.
The second his eyes lowered on her, everything in his expression shifted. From disgust and murder to hunger and murder. “How do you feel?” she asked, her words faint and withering.
“Like I need to fuckyou.”
The threat was as imminent as it was nasty and had her quaking in her own skin. She nodded of all things.
“You ready for that?” His boiling eyes burned along her face and again she nodded. “Go wait for me in bed while I talk to my men.”
She nodded. “Oui, Mon Bien Monsieur.”
He grabbed her face and kissed her again with a sound that was half growl half groan, letting her know what was coming.
****
Nitro had no doubt it was the combination of war threats, lust, and fury that gunned his engines, making him invincible. He was happy to hear the men were there as a precaution and that Noctambule sat in their Weigh Station getting the royal interrogation treatment that he very much wanted a part of.
But first, Felix. He didn’t care what it cost him as he made his way upstairs to his little bat queen, recalling how she’d let him devour her mouth. Now he’d devour the rest of her.
He thought to knock on her bedroom door before entering, not wanting to startle her.
“Nitro?”
He entered and managed to lock the door while the sight of her, naked and in the middle of the bed, imprisoned him. His shy, delicious dessert with that breathless hunger had him furiously aroused again.
Next to the bed, he lowered his underwear, and those beautiful blue eyes dropped to his cock. Before he kicked free of them, she had his raging hard on in both hands, her mouth devouring him and all the nasty plans he’d made on his way up. “Fuck, fuck, yes,” he croaked, his eyes rolling shut as he held her rapidly bobbing head. His fingers clenched in her silky hair as she sucked, already commanding his climax. Those fucking whimpers had him in a prison of lust so thick he couldn’t think about anything but filling her throat with his cum.
She raked those greedy nails over every inch of his balls and his orgasm broke loose. “Felix!” He rode that seething fury till he was a mindless animal with only one thought. Make her take it all. Every bit. No fucking mercy.
He took his time coming down from that heaven, stroking her head and cheek as she mewled devoted kisses all along his pulsing cock while he growled through the air burning in his lungs.
Retaliation rippled through his muscles, demanding vengeance on his Petite Rebel. She’d wrecked all his dirty plans with those naughty lips. He grabbed hold of her head and pulled that delicious defiance to his mouth, hellbent on ruining her with his teeth and tongue.
She became utter silk under his assault, adding more fuel to his rage-lust. He made an angry fist in her hair, devouring her sharp cry before burning a path to her neck, the creamy skin an instant obsession that made him more ravenous. He opened wider, wanting more, wanting it all as he sucked with a ragged groan, marking her perfect skin and muscle in his lust-crazed frenzy.
“Fuck me!”
He didn’t think he could get any crazier, but he was so wrong. Those two desperate words scorched a path through him a cutthroat clarity. He was on planet fucking earth for that reason alone. All his flings with wars would never be bigger than that.
In a second, he put her beneath him, imprisoning her wrists in one hand, her neck and life in the other. He was immortal, and with a god-like perfection, he answered his calling, he fucked his wife, not stopping till he annihilated both of them.
But when that divine smoke began to settle in the aftermath, he began to seriously wonder… no, worry… Had he just fucked her or sexually assaulted her?