Chapter 13
Loren
It was late by the time they approached the administrative headquarters building, after ten at night which meant it had been dark for a lot of hours. The memory of the kill was still on his lips, on his breath.
He couldn't quite shake the pleasure of it. His blood still ran high with excitement and there was a trembling in his belly that made him want to do more. More hunt. More targeting. More cat and mouse. He'd liked the shooting, the test of courage and skill.
He'd liked the blood and the draining and the killing.
New moon that night, making the dark that much darker.
Those Vampyren most affected by the bloodlust that came with this planet's nightfall and the cold of the winter hadn't even come back with them.
They were his unit and he should have cared that they were running loose somewhere in the city, but the Council didn't care about such abuses.
Humans were expendable. There were so many of them.
Sport after such a long, cold, dark time could be excused.
Loren himself hadn't gone with them. A few of his men, exhausted or sick or wanting to visit the crèche for a sure thing rather than hunting down a female on the streets came with him.
He planned to visit the Council leader, make a report, or at least leave one with his aide.
Unlikely the older Vampyren wouldn't be somewhere deep in the crèche with one or more of the females.
Make a report, and keep himself away from the crèche. Not tonight. There were reasons he wouldn't go there until the next day, and his claw-like nails left gouges in the skin of his palms with the thought of being so close and staying away.
That was the first reason.
The second was the wild hunger, the violence ringing high in his blood. He wouldn't go near her until he felt control again.
And if he cared that much, he shouldn't go near her again ever.
There was no room in a soldier, a warrior for such weakness.
When the building loomed in front of the armored car they were driving, he felt a sinking in his chest. However brutal they appeared to humans, their lives on their home world weren't so brutal.
Hot, dry, dusty, like the rural desert dwellers on Earth, but the brutality here was something of the militaristic conquest born aspect.
The lights of the building beckoned to him.
Until he'd been sent on the mission, he hadn't intended to walk away.
Being a prince and holding advance rank in the military allowed him the right to ask for her.
The Council member had been wrong to refuse him.
At least she was safe in the crèche; that much Loren had been allowed.
The men with him took their leave on the steps, the handful of them heading in separate directions, though that changed the minute they got inside.
The admin building was a hive of activity. There was an alarm going off in the building, and armed guards were running toward the crèche.
His heart began to pump again, channeling his cold blood and the hot blood of his victim. He began to run, catching up fast with an armed guard.
"What's happening?"
The vampire started to snarl out something, looked over and saw who he was speaking to, and amended his reply. "Two of the breeders. There was a fight. Armed response, I think one was killed. The others are –'"
He didn't wait to hear what the rest of that sentence was. He ran harder and faster, took the stairs up and beat the elevator that was already closing its doors behind the other responders.
The crèche was lit with every light, crazy sounds and the alarm screaming and the sound of voices. Several females were crying and a Vampyren voice kept booming out to stop the racket, to stop.
Loren plunged through the doors into the crèche and stopped short. It's not about her, he kept telling himself as he ran. Why would it be?
Inescapable: he cared.
She stood inside the crèche, the first room of the floor, what had been a place for a desk and a woman to greet visitors when this had been a human business.
Her left eye was swelling shut, her lip bleeding, her hair raked over her face which was wet with sweat and tears.
Her hands had been bound behind her and her head hung but not so low he couldn't see her face.
It flashed through his mind she was attempting to show compliance or humility when what she felt radiated from her so clearly to him: rage.
There were women all around her, crying, waving their hands, shouting things that no one was listening to, and there was blood on the floor and a body hastily covered the way humans did.
He could see taffy-colored hair spilling out and knew which of the girls it was, though he didn't remember her name.
She was thin and dry seeming and she lied the way other women breathed.
He didn't care that she was dead. It wasn't even a vampire response.
She wasn't worth worrying about.
Kiera. Kiera stood there, pretending repentance. That was what mattered.
He didn't say her name. He did a quick scan of everyone in the room and saw beyond doubt he had the most rank of anyone. Sending up a gratitude to the Universe as a whole that Sav was out on the hunt and not there with him, he shouted into the noise and confusion, ordering everyone to stop.
Stop speaking, stop crying, stop trying to get answers. Stop with the hurting of females who were too hysterical to answer.
Stop moving.
The room went quiet. Everyone there looked at him.
"What's happened here?"
Kiera was at the heart of it. That was easy to see. But she hadn't killed anyone. The dead girl had been a problem. He knew that.
The highest ranking soldier present started to speak at the same time as the old woman who acted as crèche matron.
He let them both talk, waiting until he understood.
Every word was worse. Kiera had been in a fight with the other girl and while she hadn't struck first, she'd hit the other girl repeatedly and now that female was dead and useless to the Vampyren.
That alone would have been enough. Whatever the women thought, they weren't simply dumped into the pregnancy and birthing areas. They were worth something to the vampires, they provided hope for a future with new generations.
Because Kiera hadn't backed down and because she hadn't backed down from something ultimately useless, the other girl was dead.
"You need to see this." The old woman was at his elbow.
He thought she might be all of four foot ten inches and he towered over her, even not being the tallest of the Vampyren.
Her earnest eyes looked up at him. He'd always thought her a little stupid and maybe crafty but now he just saw her as old and scared.
Old humans had very few uses other than food.
She'd found her spot among the breeders because she'd once been a midwife.
Now she gave him the handheld device and he took it, already knowing it would show at least one of the two was pregnant.
Let it be Kiera. He could then keep them from punishing her severely. If it was Sydney, Kiera would be in a world of hurt.
For a second he didn't look away from the old woman's eyes. She had read the machine. Of course she had, otherwise she wouldn't have handed it to him. There was fear in her eyes, but not outright terror. She wasn't required to be with the women around the clock.
They were expected to act like humans.
Unfortunately, he thought, that was exactly what she had done.