14. Vasile
Chapter fourteen
Vasile
I wake to the sound of my phone buzzing on the bedside table. I groan, rubbing my face into the pillow before I snatch it up, more than a little annoyed.
That is until I see the notifications on the screen.
I have three missed calls from Elle and even more from Njáll. Fuck. Something has happened.
I ignore all the other messages and call them back first. Njáll answers as soon as I ring, voice gruff.
“Another vampire is dead.”
Of course. I could expect nothing less. My grip tightens on my phone. “How?”
“A werewolf.”
“More blood?”
Elle snorts, and I realise I am on speakerphone. “No. They tore her fucking throat out.”
“I—” I shake my head. “Were you there?”
“For a few minutes,” Njáll admits. “The vampire was from Kayode’s district. She didn’t know any wolves, not as far as we’re aware.”
I shake my head. I’m not awake enough for this, not really.
“Have you checked your emails?” Elle asks, and I frown into the dark of the room.
“What?”
She hesitates, then says, “Kieran got this email… And Deacon and Moreau too, he said. You should check yours.”
Fuck. I put my phone on speaker and flick through my emails. There are a few requests, a lot of junk, and…
Oh no.
Hand yourself over, my warrior. This will all stop then. Promise to be mine—and only mine—forever, and I’ll leave everyone else alone.
I scowl. I’m not about to do that.
I mean, I’m probably not going to do that.
I forward the email to Njáll and Elle. Njáll reads it the fastest. “You’d better not hand yourself over.”
“I won’t.” Truthfully, I know it will achieve nothing. Tamesis is after more than just me; he always has been. Still…
“Kieran got an email?” I ask.
Elle sighs. “Yeah. Similar to yours. He should hand himself over, blah blah blah. Tamesis has his father’s pack already.”
I climb out of bed and pace over to the bathroom. I need to be up, to be ready. What if Tamesis comes for us all quickly? It would not surprise me. He is not one to stick to a promise.
“Why is Tamesis so obsessed with him?” I ask. I am not certain who I am asking. Maybe them. Maybe myself. Only, I don’t have the answer.
“It’s beyond me,” Njáll admits. “But nothing Tamesis does seems to be truly without purpose. He wants to hurt you. Hurting Kieran may do that.”
Hurting Kieran will hurt his pack more. Will hurt Deacon more. And, yes, Tamesis wants to hurt Deacon, but this makes little sense.
I turn on the shower. “Who else? Was it just Kieran and me who received an email?”
“No,” Njáll says. “Deacon and Moreau received one, too.”
I shake my head as I shimmy out of my pyjama bottoms. Deacon? Moreau? I know Tamesis wants to kill them, but to taunt them…
Perhaps he is worried. Perhaps he is complacent. Who knows.
“If I—”
Njáll cuts me off before I even manage to get the entire sentence out. “No, Vasile.” There is no deference in his tone. “You know better. You know it won’t stop him.”
True. Handing myself over will do nothing but give Tamesis even more opportunities to cause me pain. And it will put Njáll and Elle, at least, in a difficult position. Moreau, too.
Deacon?
Perhaps.
I shake my head. “Do we know anything else about the wolf who killed our vampire?”
“Chaya suspects that Kieran’s father’s pack has something to do with it.” She sighs. “I’m not certain any of them mean to hurt us, but—”
“We will do what we must to protect our clan,” I say firmly. I don’t want to hurt Kieran, but it is something that he needs to learn if he does not understand it already. “Whatever it takes.”
“Yes, crai,” she says.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Njáll says.
“Hmm?” The shower is warm enough, and I need to be ready to meet the others. Sam and the coven were planning to visit the wolves today and train some mages. I do not know if they went or not.
“Why did Tamesis go after their pack in the first place? You, Deacon, Moreau… That all makes sense. But there are a dozen packs just like Kieran’s father’s across the country. Hundreds across the continent. He killed the alpha’s mate and tried to kill their children. He bit a child he should have assumed was a wolf. Why?”
It is the question I have been asking myself, too, and though usually I might worry Kieran is hiding a secret, it is something I suspect he cannot answer.
“I do not know,” I say, “but everything serves a purpose when it comes to Tamesis. No matter how twisted that purpose may seem.”
“I’m aware,” Njáll replies. As far as I know, he and Tamesis never met, but he could not have been in London as long as he has and avoided learning about his reputation. His deeds.
“I’ll meet Kieran and the others within the hour,” I say. “If anything comes up…”
“We’ll call, too,” Njáll says. “Vasile, don’t go running out looking for him.”
“I won’t.”
Once the call has ended, I shower and dress quickly, fumbling the buttons on my shirt in my haste. I am certain that Kieran and his pack are fine—Elle would know if Lucien or Adam were hurt, as close to them as she is—but I still will not be completely at ease until I have set eyes on them.
I push my hair back from my face and stride over to the door, then unlock and open it. To my surprise, Deacon is standing there, arm raised as though he is about to knock.
Something inside me eases at the sight of him. He looks as harried as I do, which is to say not at all, not unless one knows where to look. Still, his eyes soften when he looks me over in turn.
“You didn’t—”
“Are they—”
We both speak at the same time and stop, and Deacon flushes lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. If he is here, the pack must be safe. He would be the first to hunt Tamesis down were they not.
“Come in.”
He brushes past me, so close I can pick out the base notes of his scent, and I close the door again.
“You didn’t pick up my calls. I tried a few times, but—”
I shake my head, turning to face him. Deacon is only a few feet away, watching me intently. “I was asleep.”
“You’ve showered.”
“I called Njáll and Elle. They needed to hear from me, too. They’re taking care of the clan.”
Deacon nods, and he understands, I know he does, but there’s still a possessive note in his eyes. I sigh. “I’m sorry. I should have called. I wanted to check on the pack before I did.”
“You got an email too?”
“Of course I did. Are they okay?”
“Of course,” Deacon repeats. He frowns. “The email, Vasile.”
“Similar to yours, I imagine. He wants me to surrender to him.” I shake my head. “I know it won’t work. Believe it or not, I do know precisely what he is capable of.”
“Do you?”
I have no answer to that—at least, none that will not lead us to an argument I think neither of us wants to have right now. “What did he say to you?”
Deacon sighs and pulls his phone from his pocket, then unlocks it and pulls up the email before he hands it over. A growl builds in my throat as I read the words on the screen. How dare he? It is not something I have allowed myself to feel yet, too caught up in my own guilt, my own fear, but now that the words are there, plain as they are, my own possessive nature rears its head.
The monster in me is, truly, something to never be sated. I have held it at bay for so long because I have believed that is the right thing to do, that Tamesis’ teachings were incorrect because he desires nothing more than power and chaos.
But this? Tamesis believes he has the right to come here and threaten what is mine ?
Deacon is that, after all. Separate as we have been, distant as we have remained… He is mine. The clan is mine. Through him, the packs are mine .
“Vas…” Deacon’s voice is hushed, and I realise the growl has escaped me, is filling the room with a low, lethal rumble.
I glance up from the screen and into his face. His lips part on a rushed breath, eyes wide and dark as he takes me in. We vampires do not show our feral nature the way the wolves do; not unless we are truly starving. My eyes will not glow. My fangs have descended, but they are firmly pressed behind my lips.
Deacon knows . He sees that monster in me.
He steps forward, takes my face in his hands, and when his lips cover mine, he meets it.
I kiss him back with a hunger I have never experienced before. His phone lands with a dull thud on the carpet, but I don’t care. I need to get my hands on him, need to yank him close and crawl inside so I can feel the very heart of him. I concentrate only long enough to retract my fangs, and when he gasps, I thrust my tongue into his mouth, swallowing his startled moan.
His hands tangle in my hair, though he is careful to be gentle. I don’t need that. I don’t want it. I bite his lower lip to hear him gasp, then moan, and the cant of his hips against mine is another silent question.
Fuck, I want him. Our kiss slows, and I stroke my thumbs over his cheekbones before I pull back. His eyes are still closed, face flushed. My loyal, protective wolf. Has anyone else ever seen him quite like this? I don’t think so, and the monster inside me is soothed by the truth of that idea.
Deacon’s eyes flutter open, dark and hazy. He’s hard against me, but he keeps his hips still, even as he does not let go of my hair and step away.
“Fuck, Vas, you—” The flush on his cheeks deepens, and when he nibbles his lower lip, I lean in and swipe my tongue over it. He tips his head back, his next groan tinged with a laugh, though I don’t know why he’s laughing.
The packs are fine, I remember, or Deacon would not be here. It means we have some time. Time enough for me to pin him to the bed and tear off his suit and—
“Vas,” Deacon says, swaying back towards me again. “Vas, we can’t .”
“Why not?”
He shivers. So big and so strong, and he is putty in my hands, almost a trembling wreck after one kiss. I duck my head and kiss the long column of his throat, down to a spot I know will drive him wild. Sure enough, he groans and clutches me to him.
“V-Vasile…”
Something in my chest warms. I like my name on his lips, just like that. As though I am everything he has ever needed.
He is everything I have ever needed, after all.
“Moreau is coming to see the pack,” Deacon says all in a rush, and I lift my head, blinking, trying to come back to myself again. “Fuck, I’d love you to pound me through the mattress just the way you want to, but we have to go see him. Them.”
He’s right, I suppose, though I don’t have to like it. Still, I can tease. I can keep my wolf exactly where I want him.
“What makes you think pounding you into the mattress is what I was planning on doing?”
Deacon smirks, which surprises me, and his hand lands on my lower back, pulling me in so we’re pressed flush together. He ducks his head, and his hot breath tickles my ear. “Well, if you didn’t, I’m more than willing to try it the other way, too.”
Fuck. My hands tighten on him, fingers digging in too much, but he doesn’t make a sound. He just kisses that spot under my ear, scenting me, then brushes his lips along my jaw before he steps back and out of my hold.
“Come along, crai,” he says, snatching up his phone as he walks toward the door. Only the fact that he looks well-fucked—from one kiss—has my legs moving. “We have somewhere to be.”
When we make it to Kieran’s flat, the living room is full. Sam and his mates take up the sofa, with Lucien in one chair and an older woman I vaguely recognise in the other. Ophelia and Dante sit on the floor, and Kieran is perched on the arm of Lucien’s chair but jumps to his feet when Deacon opens the door.
Moreau stands over by the window. His expression is wary as he looks at me, though I don’t miss the way his lips twitch when he studies Deacon. I’ve staked my claim, all right. I know I have.
“This is Pris,” Kieran says, indicating the older woman. I’ve heard of her, though I do not know how she and Kieran know each other. She runs a magic shop in the neutral part of the city and trains young mages.
Moreau nods when I look at him. He knows her, then.
“Was it only the four of us who received emails?” Deacon asks. He leans against the counter that divides the kitchen from the living space, and I fight the urge to stand close beside him, instead remaining near the door.
Kieran nods. “None of the rest of us got one.”
“None of the other hunters, either,” Moreau confirms.
“Us three, I get,” Deacon says. He frowns at Kieran. “You, I don’t. Why threaten you? Why chase after your father’s pack?”
“Because Tamesis killed their mother,” Pris says quietly, indicating Kieran and Drew both. Deacon’s frown only deepens. If that had something to do with it, then why single Kieran out?
“What happened?” I ask and ignore Pris’ scowl and the way Drew’s shoulders jump. Kieran stares back at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know you were young, but what do you remember?”
Kieran sighs. He sags back against Lucien’s chair and Lucien snakes an arm around his waist. “Dad was out. Everyone had been weird all evening, but someone had seen something on the other side of the village, so he left and took his betas with him. I was in my room. Mum was putting Drew to bed, then she was going to come and sort me.
“I was… playing, I guess. But then I knew something was wrong. I don’t know how. I left my room, and the door to Drew’s was half-open. I heard this strange sound.” Kieran shakes his head. “It must have been him draining her. There was a thump just as I opened the door and she was on the ground, already dead.”
Drew whimpers and Adam tucks his face into his throat even as Sam leans into them both. Kieran isn’t looking at any of us; he stares at the floor as he speaks.
“He turned towards the crib. Drew wasn’t crying. He was already asleep. And I knew , I knew something bad was going to happen, that Dad had to be on the way, but he wasn’t going to be fast enough.”
“What did you do?” I ask.
“Ran into him, I think,” Kieran says with a derisive huff. “Tried… I don’t know, to get his attention. I remember him picking me up. I remember his eyes. So dark. And then pain. He let me go all at once, and I grabbed onto Drew’s crib.” Kieran’s eyes meet mine. “I saw him die. I remember that, too. Drew was screaming by then. Tamesis died before my dad even got there.”
“That is what you remember? Or what you were told?”
Kieran’s jaw sets. “I remember that. After… After is where things get hazy.”
“When your father returned?”
“Yeah.” He swallows hard, and Lucien’s grip on him tightens.
“I don’t understand,” Deacon says, shaking his head. “Why would Tamesis go after wolves in the first place? And even if he did, why bite the alpha’s son? He had to know how that would end.”
I shake my head—Tamesis is many things, but he has never been one to understand other species beyond attempting to find their weaknesses. What Deacon saw in Kieran, I am certain, the first time he set eyes on him, is something Tamesis would never have learnt on his own. A wolf without a wolf.
“He would have assumed you were human,” I say. I look at Drew briefly, then back at Kieran. “You have no wolf for him to sense.”
Kieran nods, but the woman, Pris, shifts in her chair and speaks.
“Emily had a reading a few nights before she died. It spooked her, but she wouldn’t tell me who she’d spoken to. Maybe it was him?”
“A reading?” I ask.
“Yes. She was a seer. Not especially powerful, really, but powerful enough to read certain futures.”
Kieran doesn’t appear surprised by the information, and neither does Drew. I already knew their mother had magic, but that she was a seer, even a weak one… They are terribly rare.
“You think she read Tamesis’ future?” Deacon asks.
“I don’t know for sure. I certainly don’t know what she saw if she did. That’s not—I can’t do that. But it seems like a strange coincidence for him to waltz into the centre of a pack and take out the human alpha mate.”
Deacon and I exchange a look, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Moreau shift from foot to foot. It may not be a strange coincidence at all. Tamesis has always done as he likes. Finding a human in a pack full of wolves… Well, it would appeal to that monstrous side of him, especially because she was the alpha mate.
But he has never chased children. He has no soft spot for them, of course. They are simply beneath him. Especially a baby, as Drew would have been. Not worth biting because Tamesis would have been able to tell he was a wolf, and yet Kieran believes Tamesis would have killed his brother next.
“Unless you can think of a reason why Tamesis might have wanted to go after your father,” I say to Kieran, “then this may be our best bet. Not that it helps us find him now.”
Kieran shakes his head but doesn’t speak, instead leaning slightly back into Lucien’s hold. I look at Moreau. “What are the Hunt doing? Are you helping or not?”
“The ones who can help are helping,” Moreau says with a sigh. “Saide and Rook aren’t far from the clan, even though you dismissed them. Jeremiah and Paxton are chasing down mages. It’s more difficult than we anticipated because of how unpredictable their abilities are.”
“Because of the fae blood?” Sam asks. Moreau nods. “How did Tamesis even get his hands on that, anyway?”
“Made a deal,” Moreau replies. “Though as far as I’m aware, that avenue is now closed to him. They gave him a decent amount, but it is also finite.”
“A decent amount?” Deacon says, frowning. “What does that mean?”
“He’s used it to resurrect twice. Well, someone must have helped him, but that’s the only way he could have come back after—” Moreau’s gaze meets mine for a second before he looks sharply away. He does not want to reveal the truth, even if only Lucien and Adam here might judge me for it.
“And he’s used it to twist those mages’ magic,” Sam says. “At least, what, five or six?”
“At least,” Moreau agrees. He sighs and glances at Deacon for a moment before he looks at Kieran. “And he is likely using it to influence the bonds between the members of your father’s pack. Unless you think your father chose to work with him for some reason?”
“No!” Drew exclaims from the sofa. He shrinks down when we all look at him. “He would never…”
“He wouldn’t,” Kieran agrees. “He trained us to fight vampires because of what happened. Tamesis must have somehow managed to get the upper hand.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “So does he have enough to resurrect again, do you think?”
“I doubt it,” Moreau says. “And like I said, he won’t be getting more.”
“Okay. All we have to do is kill him, then—” Deacon cuts himself off, gaze narrowing in on Drew. My attention turns to him, too, to the way his heart is suddenly pounding as he looks at his phone.
Kieran frowns, following our gazes. “Drew? What is it?”
“I—It’s Quinn. I need to—” Drew gets to his feet and hurries toward the bedroom, but his phone rings before he makes it there. “Where are you?”
I strain to hear the other side of the call. Quinn, whoever he is, sounds terrified. “Near Leicester Square. I can’t stay here. They’re after me. I know it.”
“We can—I can come and get you.”
Kieran gets to his feet, frown deepening. Is this a trap? It could well be, even if the other wolf’s voice trembles.
“I need to keep moving. Where can I go? Or I can send you my location, but, Drew, please—”
“Send it to me,” Drew says. He turns and looks at Kieran, swallowing hard at whatever expression is on his brother’s face. “I’ll come get you. It’s gonna be okay.”
I wander over to where Deacon is standing and jerk my chin at Drew. Deacon shakes his head. It may well be real, then, though that doesn’t mean it’s safe to go. Even if Quinn has broken his pack ties, it won’t be difficult for them to find him.
Drew ends the call and stares at Kieran defiantly. “I have to help him.”
“Yeah,” Kieran says, the smallest amount of reluctance in his tone. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”