“I think you know how.” Wick had to keep advancing towards that amazing scent. In all his hundred-plus years, blood had never called to him so relentlessly. If he wasn’t a disciplined vampire, he’d already have his fangs deep in the shifter. Because he was his.
“You know who I am? Don’t you.” Wick asked, still using their link, since the one other person in the room with the AZ looked like he had no idea what was going on.
Justice wasn’t responding, only staring back at him in shock, but mostly dismay. When he finally did speak, his voice was a rumbling whisper, a prayer. “You can’t be my… my mate.”
He looked repulsed and Wick felt his insides burn and something mewl deep inside him. A sense of rejection washed over him and Wick struggled to keep his face neutral, to not show his initial hurt. But he must not have done a good enough job because his captain gripped his elbow and began to pull Wick behind him.
A fierce growl tore through the large room and was probably heard throughout the building and beyond. The Alpha Zenith moved faster than Wick realized shifters could and was on his captain, slamming him into the wall by his throat so aggressively the drywall and plaster exploded behind him and fell down around the vampire’s dangling feet. Wick’s captain hissed and gasped but nothing he did could free him from the large shifter’s grip. In one quick, effortless jerk, the big Alpha could snap his captain’s neck.
“Do not touch him. Mine! I can see your corrupted soul.” Justice’s eyes shifted to an astonishing ice blue as he barked angrily at the limp vampire, his wolf making a terrifying appearance. His long canines extended past his full bottom lip, making his voice sound like an out of tune Harley.
“Justice! What are you doing? Let him go!” His beta tried to get through to Justice, but he acted like he couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t even see his brother.
Wick used his flash speed and was at Justice’s side in a second. “Let my captain go. He was only trying to protect me. He doesn’t know.” Wick kept his voice low and easy. He wanted to touch Justice so badly but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated. Wick couldn’t be happy at Justice’s words, his reaction at another touching him. It was his animal’s instincts. Nothing more. The Alpha’s wolf called Wick his. But Justice – the man – did not. The man looked appalled that fate had dealt him such a shitty hand. It’d been written all over Justice’s ruggedly gorgeous face.
Wick watched Justice drop his captain like a pile of rubbish and step back, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. “Damnit,” Justice spat. “I don’t know you. But I’m sorry, okay. I had no right. Shit. I don’t know why… I mean, I—”
“Justice we need to go.” The large beta wolf was still trying to hustle Justice away. Away from Wick. He couldn’t let him go until he heard the words. Until Justice said it.
“I’m Aleksei Volkov, Justice’s brother and first beta. He’s obviously not himself tonight. We’ll have to reschedule the meeting.”
Wick appreciated the considerate beta trying to be diplomatic and all, but this had nothing to do with any other shifters or vampires… only the two of them. Wick needed five minutes alone. To say goodbye. Inside he cringed at the crushing sadness. Justice made a noise Wick couldn’t decipher, but something down in Wick understood the wolf in Justice was angry… and hurting. That wouldn’t do.
“Can I speak with you privately for a few minutes?” Wick looked dead at Justice when he asked his question, but the brother stepped in front and answered for him. Which may be the norm in their pack, but Wick didn’t appreciate the interference, and apparently neither did his beast. Wick’s vision flashed and he saw the colors change right before his eyes. Vibrant colors went from radiant to dull and dim. Wick blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his sight. His chest vibrated and rumbled, making him feel off balance, like he was trying to comfort two wounded souls instead of one. When he opened his eyes, he gasped at how close Justice was to him. Right on top of him. Looking long and hard into his eyes now. Justice wasn’t looking through his human eyes but through his wolf’s. He was so close. Nothing else in the room mattered. Wick placed one shaking hand on Justice’s hot chest and a jolt of power shot up his arm and straight to his heart. Justice was so warm and full of life and Wick feared he’d never know how deep the warmth went.
“What are you?” Justice rumbled sexily. Large drops of sweat rained down his temples, slicking down the fine hairs around his face. He’d been working so hard to deny what was happening between them, the man was now a big, sweaty mess but damn, did he still smell appetizing.
Wick wanted to wrap himself in that dominating tone. Plunge his face in the dark hairs peeking out from the flannel shirt and rub his smooth face against the coarseness. He needed to bathe in Justice’s scent and mark himself with it. Wick didn’t know why, but it felt like that would soothe the beast within. Wick was more certain now than ever that he had something living inside him and the AZ could somehow communicate with it. Only one other person knew of Wick’s secret and he was still thousands of miles across the ocean.
“Erman, wait outside,” Wick told his captain. He looked to be fully recovered from Justice’s brief assault but it didn’t stop him from glaring daggers at the AZ and his beta. “Now.”
Justice turned to his brother, who was kicking some of the drywall out of the way. “Wait out front, Alek, please. Don’t let those police in here, either. Tell them we’ll pay for any damage.”
They both waited for the seconds it took his captain and Justice’s brother to leave before turning back to each other.
“You don’t want me.” Wick cut right to the point. He was never coy, always so assured and take-charge, but at the moment he could barely get those words out. Just the thought of walking away right now…. Wick heard a soft whine and wondered where it came from.
“You’re a shifter?” Justice inched in even closer, sniffing all around him, this time their chests touching just enough to make Wick want. His dick was stiff and aching in his tailored slacks, and he did nothing to shield his arousal. His fangs began to descend more, needing to taste, to feed.
“No.” Wick frowned, then really thought of Justice’s question. “Why? Can you see…? I mean can you—?”
“I can feel it. It’s… it’s talking—” Justice swallowed hard and took a few large steps back until his hip hit the conference table. “It’s talking to my wolf. Stop it.”
“How? Why? What’s it say—?”
“If you don’t know, how the hell am I supposed to know?!” Justice yelled, his fists balled tight and pounding at his chest. “My wolf is all over me one minute and now it’s distant and quiet, content to communicate with your animal – that you seem to be denying or claiming no knowledge of – and you’re asking me what it’s saying. I DON’T KNOW!”
Wick put his hands up and tried to pull back to give the frantic man some space. Pulling away seemed like the opposite of what he should do. It was contrary to what he wanted to do. This was very confusing and he needed answers that Justice seemed to have. Wick didn’t know what was going on either, but he was sure they were supposed to figure it out together. Otherwise, why would nature do this to them? Wick wanted to rejoice, wanted to celebrate. That’s how he always thought it should be. “I’m sorry we’re only just meeting. Justice… that’s your name, right? Justice Voltov?”
“Volkov. I’m Siberian,” Justice corrected. “We’re meeting because your kind keeps antagonizing my young wolves.”
Your kind. Wick decided to take a different approach, because clearly small talk wasn’t what Justice wanted. He didn’t know what the man wanted. He didn’t know what more to do or how to fix this. The thought of throwing his hands up and walking away wasn’t sitting well with Wick. Matter of fact, it felt like it would kill him. He had to get through to Justice. “My name is Chadwick Earl-Kyne Bentley.”
“Your name is Chadwick?” Justice asked dryly.
Damn, why did that hurt Wick too? Did Justice not like his name, because he loved his. Justice sounded so noble and trustworthy. Maybe the big wolf didn’t know what Wick’s name meant. “I know what Justice means in America. In the old world Chadwick means, ‘battle warrior’. But if you don’t like it, you can call me Wick. I prefer it. Or you can—”
“I don’t need to call you anything,” Justice snapped at him then grimaced, clutching his chest again like he was in great pain. “All we need to do is come up with a meeting of the minds regarding our kinds and then I… I might need a little time.”
Wick stood there staring at Justice. Aching and torn. Time? He couldn’t move. People believed vampires had no heart and no soul. Then why was his breaking right now? Why was his spirit demolished with only a few words from the exceptional man that was fated just for him? His insides whirled and his chest felt like something was battling against his rib cage.
“Don’t even fuckin’ think about it. No way!” His flash speed taking him from the over-crowded police station, through the town and up eight thousand feet into the Lyon’s Peak Mountains within minutes, much faster than anyone could see him. All they knew was a windy blur flew past them. Wick didn’t stop until he was at the top, dejected and out of breath. He wasn’t sure how far he’d run, but he knew it was in the opposite direction of the pack lands and where he was staying. His captain was probably having a small conniption.
Wick didn’t care. He dropped down to the soft earth and dug his fingers into the rich soil. The one person that might understand all this or could help him clarify what was happening to him had just run him off. Hated him. The thought of Wick made Justice sick enough to recoil from him.
Wick laid down and stared up through an opening in the trees, not caring that his black Armani suit was being ruined. Nothing mattered anymore. He was lifeless, soulless. Why would fate bless him with anything? For two minutes, he thought nature had smiled on him. That fate did love him no matter how much he called to the Mother and she never answered. He was a life sucking vampire, nothing like the Mother’s adored shifters. Wick always felt he was more. Destined for greatness. Greater than his father. All Wick’s early years spent running away from boarding school for days at a time, escaping into the quietness of the woods. Answering what he knew now was an imaginary call, fabricated in his own mind. For a hundred years he waited for some kind of connection, an understanding of what stirred inside him. He waited for someone who had the answers to why Wick had such a strong pull to the wild.
As soon as fate showed him a glimmer of hope… she ripped it away. He was out there alone, and for the first time in his long life, he was afraid. Wick’s soul cried out. “Beloved. Mate.”