Chapter 14
Bellis stood with his arms crossed over his chest as he scowled out at the forest from his home. Unlike other Walkers, Bellis’ home wasn’t at StoneCrow, nor was it at Apex. No, the reclusive Walker had built this place several years before, far from others of his kind. It had cost a small fortune, but as both Monroe’s and Tyce’s favored assassin, there wasn’t a price he couldn’t ask, which meant he’d become very wealthy. He also did some work on the side that neither Dominant knew about, and he’d been paid handsomely for each kill he’d made. In those instances though, it wasn’t about the money. It was about redeeming himself. He never killed a person that didn’t deserve it, and in most instances, the people he put down needed putting down.
Nestled on the ridge of a mountaintop in the Little Belt Mountains, his home was close enough to StoneCrow that he could be there within minutes if he shifted and flew. Right now though, going back to StoneCrow was the last thing on his mind. His hands fisted as he thought about what Monroe had said. Distracted by his thoughts, his eyes locked on the quietly babbling creek that ran from behind his home and along its side before disappearing into the thick trees down the slope.
Sam. Her name ghosted across his mind and he slammed his eyes shut, the view out the floor to ceiling window disappearing as he breathed deep. You’re home. Just be home!
Slowly he opened his eyes and relaxed a little. This place was his definition of paradise. No road in. No road out. All the building materials had to be flown to the landing on the top of the mountain. It’d been difficult to direct construction via phone. Because of his looks, he wasn’t afforded the opportunity to interact with humans like other Walkers. It was one of the things he despised most about himself.
Glancing down at his arm, his jaw tensed at his coloring. He knew why he was like this, though he’d hoped that as he grew into adulthood, the oddities in his appearance would fade. They hadn’t, and he’d grown to accept them, but now his disdain for his appearance was back full-force. He knew why.
Sam. She’d called him a Demon, and it was grating. Mostly because he killed for a living, and he spent nearly every night of his life trying to convince himself that he was good, no matter what others may think. Plus, she lived with real demons, so she’d know one if she met one, wouldn’t she?
Tearing his eyes from the breathtaking view of the tree packed mountainside beneath his home, he turned and padded on bare feet across the slate gray tiles covering the expanse of the floor. His home had been built to be missed by the naked eye. The outside was all river rock and wooden beams, with roof shingles the color of spruce trees. Inside though, the place was state of the art. Because it was his sanctuary. He’d spared no expense, and every time he returned home he felt like that Bruce Wayne fuck he’d seen once in a movie.
Going to his kitchen, he pulled open one of the double doors on his stainless-steel fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer. Cracking it open, he tossed the lid into the trash bin beside the counter before heading to his office. He had his “tech guy” searching for any and all intel on one Sam Michaels, and he was growing impatient as he waited.
Seated in the leather chair behind his large L-shaped desk, he frowned at his computer monitor as he waited. His e-mail didn’t miraculously ping under his frowning scrutiny, so he relaxed back in his chair and studied the large room. Floor to ceiling bookshelves lined the walls on either side of him, while behind him were sliding glass doors leading out to a patio housing two deck chairs facing a large fire pit with a small table between them.
Turning, he eyed the patio furniture and wondered for the thousandth time why he’d ordered two chairs.
Fuck! Shoving back from his desk, he stalked out to the sitting room where he had a large leather sofa and two plush armchairs facing an empty hearth. His gaze shot to the front door and the wooden bench seat he’d built there. He’d intentionally constructed several small boxes beneath the seat with the intention of storing shoes there, and he frowned hard at the side under the bench that had smaller boxes, built for smaller shoes. His eyes lifted to the hooks he’d attached to the tall wooden plank that towered over the bench seat. He’d added it so that anyone coming in could hang their coat when they removed their shoes, and his jaw clenched at the two hooks he’d mounted slightly lower than the higher two. He’d made them for someone shorter than himself...a female.
Sam! Why couldn’t he stop imagining her in his home? Seriously, what was she going to do? Strip out of her Lycra assassin suit and hang it on one of the lower hooks?
Part of him had always hoped that one day he’d find his Angel. He knew about the affliction and honestly, he looked forward to it. The Skin Walker Affliction would mean the female, his Angel, would be able to see past his physical appearance and love him for the man inside. But, the affliction never came. After countless years of introductions to countless females, both at Apex and StoneCrow, there’d been nothing. Hell, even Sam wasn’t his One. There was no affliction, and without it, she’d never be his.
He frowned hard at the bench seat/coat rack and contemplated taking it outside and chucking it down the mountainside.
Ping!
With his heightened sense of hearing, the e-mail alert rang clear. He rushed to his office, excited to finally have some information on Sam, but his excitement was short lived. The e-mail was from Jenny, and he considered ignoring it, but she rarely—if ever—e-mailed him, so he opened it.
Bellis, I need you to come back to the North Fortress. There has been a complication with Sam and I need…well, your blood. Get here soon. That’s not a request. –J
He ignored her commanding tone, still stuck on the ‘there’s been a complication with Sam’ part. What kind of complication? Is she okay? Clearly not, if she needed more blood. She was a vampire or something similar that fed off people, but why would they need him? There were two dozen Keepers there now, plus one Walker in Jenny and a human in Rohm’s mate Nyree. It was a veritable smorgasbord of species for Sam to feed from, so why him? Unless…was it a trap? Had Sam gotten free? Did the Megalya know where she’d been taken?
Standing, he fisted his black tactical shirt from where it hung on the back of his office chair and shrugged into it. Excitement thrummed through him at the prospect of seeing Sam again, and he shook his head at his own giddy anticipation while trying to convince himself that it was incited by the prospect of battle.