Chapter 26 – Laithe
Chapter Twenty-Six
Laithe
“ Y ou'd do well to keep close to Emerson tonight,” Meena says casually as we drive.
My head twists toward her. I raise an eyebrow in question.
“I'm not immortal,” she says, nodding back to the road.
Yes, I do know that. I'm more concerned with her comment that I should stay close to Emerson. It's difficult to know if the old witch knows something I don't or if she's simply making conversation.
Somehow, the vampire with a slight allergy to sunlight was the one chosen to retrieve the clairvoyant witch from her home. I pull into the garage and turn to ask if that's a tidbit of insider information.
For being in her seventies, the woman is sure spry as she bolts from my car and into the house. She talked nonstop about how much she missed the pup for the entire ride. But her statement about keeping Emerson close is playing on repeat in my mind.
I follow her in, but she's already up the stairs by the time I make it to the bottom of the landing. My hands itch a bit from irritation caused by the late evening sun that spilled into the windshield. It's not severe. More a minor inconvenience than anything.
Going out during daytime isn't the highlight of my immortal existence. I've lived enough years that the sunlight doesn't pose a dire risk, but it is annoying as fuck.
The fact my maker was an ancient lends me a fair amount of protection from UV damage that most vampires do not have.
Whether or not that will transfer to any of my own progeny is an unknown factor, as I've never turned a human.
I've never had the desire to do so in over a thousand years of existence, but the idea of losing Emerson to illness or old age is unpalatable.
She might not be quite there yet—she's still got another ten or even fifteen years to make that choice—but it will eventually become an issue. Given a bit more time, I think the four of us will push fervently for her turning.
I know I'll volley for it.
She's not allowed to grow old and die. Ember needs her mother. Most shifters never have to consider losing a parent, not for many hundreds of years. Well, not unless that death is due to violence, but the supernatural world has become softer over the generations.
Emerson gives me a dubious look as she catches sight of me.
The way her tits jiggle as she bounces down the stairs draws my attention like a moth to a flame.
She's wearing a black dress that's tight up top and flares out below her waist. It accentuates her natural curves and makes me desperate for a taste.
I'm open to either her pussy or her blood. Vampires are very flexible creatures.
Actually, I've changed my mind. I'd like both, and I intend to have them within the span of the night.
“You look lovely,” I murmur, wrapping an arm around her lower back.
“Thank you,” she says, grinning up at me. “You look a bit like you're going incognito.” Her head falls back as she laughs.
My pulse thumps, which is unusual, as it really only needs several beats per minute to keep me mobile.
“Are you sure we shouldn't wait another hour or two?” Emerson asks. An adorable crinkle forms in her brow as she studies me.
“All will be fine,” I assure her.
I'm sure I do look different than she's used to. I've got a wool pea coat on, even though the temperature hardly calls for it, and sunglasses to protect my eyes from any damage.
Over the last month that she and Ember have been living at the mansion, we've all become a bit more relaxed. It's been surprisingly domestic for a house full of monsters.
I admit, I haven't been bored. Not even a little. Which is shocking, since very few things in life hold my attention after a millennium.
I guide Emerson out to the garage and help her into my car.
Aline has mostly been running The Monster's Den and Venom in our stead.
To be honest, that fae could manage the entire business on her own if she wasn't in hiding from her fucked-up family.
She tends to stay in the employee-only areas, but she's more than capable of keeping the place going.
She has proven that over the last few weeks.
Dread's family pack, spearheaded by Octavia, petitioned the supernatural council for something to be done about Alpha Brayden.
The North American Alpha cleaned house before the council's visit. Unfortunately for Carson, they found no evidence of his human mate, nor did they find any of Brayden's pack willing to admit a human had ever been on his pack lands. The entire situation leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
Something about Ember's sperm donor is tickling at the pessimistic side of my brain. We've had more conversations about the pathetic wolf than anything else recently.
Octavia made it clear to the council that all of Haven's sanctuary laws would be upheld with the utmost ruthlessness and no further warning.
The ancient sloth demon did not seem overly concerned with the possibility of starting a war with the North American wolves.
Sending a demon who feeds of laziness to address the issue really speaks to how little they care.
The only positive outcome was the assurance that no legal action would be taken if Brayden attempts something stupid.
Our town has existed for nearly two hundred years on the same founding principles. The feral shifter would have to be out of his mind to challenge that.
A giddy excitement bubbles up when I think about demolishing the mutt. He's not the type to give up. The more time that passes, the longer he has to grow his army. It's a situation that needs to be handled swiftly. Which is exactly why Emerson and I are headed to The Den.
All monsters talk. We get visitors at the club from out of town on a regular basis. It's highly conceivable that Brayden has already planted spies to get the lay of the land.
Emerson will once again be monster eye candy in an attempt to draw out the fucker. She's quiet as we drive, but I stretch out a hand to caress her soft thigh.
“Are you nervous, little human?” I ask, taking the long driveway down toward the city.
“No,” Emerson says, shaking her head. “Not for The Den.” She sighs, squeezing my hand that rests on her leg. “I think I’m spoiled. It's hard to be away from Ember when I've gotten so used to being home with her all the time.”
“She's fine with Raisa and Meena,” I assure her, loving the heat of her skin against mine.
“I know.”
“Once we tie you up...” I chuckle darkly. “I'm sure your mind won't be able to stress about anything for long.”
Emerson does seem to forget everything as we tease and tantalize her body for the audience.
Arsyn has pumped everyone so full of lust that more than a few couples are going at it as they watch with rapt fascination.
Ryktus stands on the right side of the stage. His eyes take in every inch of the main viewing room.
Dread is absolutely enamored with the show, but he's out circling the crowd. He looks damn intimidating, but I'm not sure if that's the entire purpose of his wandering or if he's legitimately trying to sniff out any questionable patrons.
My hand lands on Emerson's ass several times. I clap my palm specifically to make it sound more severe than it is. We want them salivating over their alpha's mate, and monsters do tend to love tormenting our partners, but I personally have no desire to give them too much of what they crave.
Arsyn is currently kneeling between Em and the wall as he licks and teases her pussy with his forked tongue.
Emerson is leaning her chest against the cushioned table with her wrists strapped in.
She dances around on her heels any time I slap her backside or Arsyn does something she particularly enjoys.
My claws rake over her shoulder, down her spine, and over her left hip. The skin turns red and raises slightly with a welt.
Emerson, the darling little human she is, only moans louder for it. Arsyn chuckles. His clawed hands appear on her hips, pulling her back toward him.
Dread snarls. The stomping of his booted feet approaches quickly. He shoulders me out of the way, and I laugh. I've already fucked her. I'm not opposed at all to letting him take over.
“You're lucky she likes you,” he grumbles, giving me a swift shove to the side.
I take my position on the opposite side of the stage from Ryktus. The gargoyle should be more than enough to put the fear of death into anyone feeling especially optimistic about their chances of double-crossing us. But what Meena said seems to be looping in a circle over and over in my brain.
Dread growls ferociously as he slams his monster cock inside her.
She whines.
The sound reminds me of the omegas of old before they disappeared from existence.
I frown, turning to study the pair of them.
Dread is very much an alpha.
Emerson reminds me greatly of an omega. She has the exaggerated curves that omegas were known for. She’s also able to stare down an alpha hellhound without blinking, yet sometimes, she flinches away from her own daughter’s gaze.
I swipe a palm over my face and finally remember my jeans are hanging open. I handle that as the idea percolates.
The delectable sex must be frying my brain, I decide as I fasten my belt.
Omegas died out of the monster community several hundred years ago.
Obviously, Emerson is able to stare into Dread’s eyes because he’s her mate.
Speaking of the hellhound, he continues to plow into her soft little body. Oh yes, I’m supposed to be keeping watch for the shifter scum who thinks he’ll survive trying to claim our tiny wolf pup.
I cross my arms over my chest and glare at the crowd. If there are any spies for Alpha Brayden here tonight, I wish they’d just get on with it.
The wait is growing monotonous.
We exit the club to an empty parking lot. The moon is full as it peeks over the tree line in the distance.
Ryktus never rides in moving vehicles. He might not be actual stone all the time, but his weight reflects what he’s made of. Both he and Dread will be along shortly.