Rise of the Fae (2 page)

“You…you don’t just go to see Lord Danika. But if you’ll come with me I can make a couple of calls…”

“Take his money,”
said a commanding, familiar voice.

Selene shook her head to rid herself of the voice.

“Give me your money.”

The old man stepped back. Selene glanced around and spotted an alley a few yards away. Quick as light, she grabbed the man around the neck and covered his mouth. She dragged him, struggling, into the alley.

“
Sopor,”
she whispered into his ear. The vamp went unconscious. Selene laid him on the ground, rifled through his pockets, and found his wallet.

She’d made it through the rift, which was the toughest part. From here on out should be easy. All she needed was to get some clothing and a ride. She was back and when her mother’s people came to cleanse Earth, Mason would wipe them away with his powers.

Selene buttoned up the flannel shirt, raced out of the alley and down the street. Passing the prying eyes of the vamps, she ran toward the address programmed in her head.

More than once, a vamp called out to her and told her to stop. Twice, a vamp chased her, but she outmaneuvered them easily. Running at top speed, she tried not to linger on the depression cloaking Chicago like a death shroud.

It was strange being back. The destruction the Vampires had wreaked on the human world was astronomical. Stores boarded up. Whole blocks dark and desolate. Not that she could blame the Vampires solely. The humans were to blame as well.

She wondered if they’d ever figured out who had unleashed the V2000 virus that had mutated the majority of the human population into the vampire subspecies of vamps. Inwardly she was glad the virus hadn’t worked as it had been designed. If it had worked, and had turned the Vampires and vampyr into daywalkers, so they could walk in the sun, who knew what Earth would look like now.

After twenty minutes of running, Selene reached her destination. She rounded a deserted corner and the faded yet familiar awning came into view. Her chest tightened and she choked out a sob. Glancing around, she darted across the street to the front door. She pulled on it, but the door didn’t budge. A padlock and chain bound it closed.

She laid her palm on the padlock.

“Recludo.”

The padlock clicked open. She yanked both it and the chain off and stepped through the door. The smell of stale air tickled her nose. She set her hand on the frosted glass of the entrance.

“Securus.”

The door locked and Selene turned, surveying the lobby. Silence enveloped her. The cream, dust-covered, plush chairs waited in the same place she remembered them. The guard’s desk sat vacant and unsecured. Her feet peppered the marble floor in silent steps. The elevator doors still gleamed and she caught a glimpse of herself, disheveled and dirty. She depressed the button and the elevator opened, to her surprise.

Outside, a large vehicle pulled up to the building and stopped. She stepped into the elevator as two tall men in black fatigues approached the building.

Her heart thundered as the men yanked on the outer doors. The lock spell held, and the elevator closed too slowly. She willed it to go faster.

The bell rang and she sprinted from the elevator, rushed to the end of the hall, and spelled the apartment door so it would open.

Once inside, she moved to the window and peeled back the curtain. The sun had set, but the sky wasn’t completely murky yet.

Down below, the two men spoke and pointed. Eventually they shrugged and drove away.

Selene blew out a breath, dropped the chain and lock to the floor, and plopped onto the soft, red sectional sofa.

Home sweet home.

The music from inside Club Midnight pounded against Neeman’s SUV as he pulled up to the curb. The vamp valet rushed to Neeman’s door, but he stepped out before the valet could open it.

“Evening, Mr. Colter.” The valet bowed.

“It’s Neeman. Just Neeman.”

The valet bowed again. “Good evening, Neeman.”

Neeman sighed. “Stop bowing. I’m not one of the three kings. I’m a soldier.”

“Soldiers deserve the highest respect,” said the valet. “You’re the ones who keep us safe.”

Neeman stared at the young vamp for a minute. He was used to people fearing him, not worshiping him. Finally, he nodded and the valet hopped into the SUV.

The line to get in wrapped around the outer wall of the building. Vamps and vampyr had been lined up for hours. A young female vampyr eyed Neeman and smiled, thrusting out her chest. Neeman chewed the gum in his mouth once before swallowing it and heading for the entrance. Why did women feel the need to throw their bodies around to get what they wanted?

Riley hopped from the vehicle. “You want me to call the others and tell them where we are?”

“Why? It’s none of their business what I do.”

Riley was a good Vampire, but he hadn’t been with the Tracking Squad more than a year. His father and mother were lesser Vampires and had nothing to offer him except a place in their technology company, so he’d asked to join the Squad. Neeman assumed it was to better his position within the Vampire society.

The stoic Vampire bouncer who guarded the door didn’t even glance at Neeman before unlatching the rope and opening the door. “Enjoy.”

The music floating out of the bar assaulted him along with the sights and smells of the city night. Blood, sweat, and perfume wafted out to greet him. He stepped into the establishment and pushed his way to the crowded bar. The black-haired vamp bartender caught his eye and nodded, his dreadlocks shaking over his shoulders.

Neeman slid through the throng of bodies pressing against him and headed for the VIP section. Colored lights illuminated the dance floor. Suspended above on platforms, vamp and vampyr females shook and writhed to the music for the enjoyment of the patrons.

A female vampyr slid up to Neeman, stopping him. Her large, pale blue eyes scoured his body as she ran her fingers over his chest.

“You’re Neeman.” She smiled.

The girl’s long brown hair hung loosely around her, silhouetting her oval-shaped face and overly pouty lips.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Her short fangs gleamed in the dim light of the dance floor, illuminating the small teardrop rubies she’d inset into them.

“No. Thank you.” He swallowed hard as her face fell. Why couldn’t he say yes? Here was a girl full of curvy loveliness any vampyr would die to have pressed underneath him, and she didn’t even stir a flutter in his gut.

Neeman reached over his shoulder and grabbed Riley by the arm. “This is Riley, he’s one of the best trackers in my squad. I’m sure he’d be more than happy for a beautiful woman to buy him a drink.”

Neeman slid around the girl, making a beeline for his table. In the past months, he’d taken more females to bed than he had in the whole of his long life. Since Danika had chosen Mason as her mate he’d done anything and anyone to try and drown her memory. The fact that he was in a bar once more was testament to the fact that he wasn’t succeeding.

“I’m Lana,” she said to Riley. Neeman ground his nails into his palms and cracked his knuckles. Why couldn’t he have just let the girl buy him a drink, screwed her in the bathroom, and then let her go? He’d done it a million times in the last months. Somehow tonight he just wasn’t into it.

He reached his booth as the waitress showed up with Savor and vodka.

“Keep ’em coming,” he growled. Something was off with him tonight. The air of the bar held a heady scent, which set him on edge. The energy of the patrons was heightened. He scanned the room for signs of trouble but nothing seemed amiss.

He reached for the glass and took a long sip. The synthetic O negative went down with a burn from the vodka. It had been decades since Neeman had used alcohol to dull his pain. Images of the night he’d been turned flashed into his memory, drowning out the sights and sounds of the bar. The smell of death, the cold chill of a tight grip on his shoulder, the bloodshot eyes and long gleaming fangs.

Neeman shook his head and downed the rest of his drink. A whoop and holler from the dance floor pulled his attention. His gaze swept the area for danger, but the bodies were too thick to see anything.

“Your drink, sir.” The waitress set a second glass on the table. Neeman nodded and she picked up the first glass, carrying it away.

He scratched at his growing scruff. How long had it been since he’d shaved? Or cut his hair for that matter? Danika had always liked him clean shaven and hair short.

The years they’d been together had been the happiest in his new existence. When she’d broken it off, he’d thrown himself into the Tracking Squad, making it more efficient than it had ever been, even when Roth had been running it. His eye for detail and his obsession for order had the group running with more precision than ever.

So much had changed in the past year. From Danika decreeing that humans were no longer to be slaves, to humans being put into his care to be made into trackers. He barely recognized the woman Danika had become.

When she had returned to his life a year ago, he realized his feelings were still the same. And he’d been so close this time to having her for good. But within a matter of days, he’d gone from being the happiest man alive, to the most devastated. He didn’t blame Mason, or Danika. They were a formidable couple and, as dangerous as Mason’s demon nature was, he was also the best protector Danika could have from those who threatened her.

Danika’s uncle Chase was still out there, hiding in the shadows. He’d tried to kill Danika twice, and he’d try again.

Neeman had all of his connections searching for Chase. It would be his pleasure to rip the pompous, self-righteous bastard limb from limb before serving him up to Danika and Mason.

Shouting emanated from the dance floor. The crowd shifted. Females moved to the edge of the arena and males migrated to the center. Neeman glanced at the bar for Riley but didn’t spot him. He downed his drink and headed for the upheaval.

The crowd parted around him as he stomped out to see what the commotion was about. He stepped through a ring of vamps and vampyr and stopped short. His breath sucked in and his chest tightened. A female, wearing little more than a bikini top covered in a flannel shirt and a pair of bootie shorts, danced in the center of the floor. Men ground and gyrated all around her, touching her in places that were not appropriate.

Neeman’s gut clenched. Her shoulder-length black hair swished around her neck as she swayed her hips. For minutes, he did nothing more than stare. She moved with sensuality that few possessed. Her scent floated across the floor and hit him with force. She smelled of vanilla and cinnamon.

A young vamp bumped into another vamp. Without a word the second lashed out and punched the first one in the face. Before Neeman could react the males were in an all out brawl.

He moved like light into the fray, pulling the males apart and shoving them to the side. The female barely took notice, continuing to sway to the music, with her back to him. Her scent grew stronger the closer he got, making his fangs ache and his arousal grow. The sensation shocked him. In all of his years as a vampyr, he’d never once desired to take someone’s blood from the vein.

The two vamps ran at him, pulling him to his senses. Neeman brought the first to his knees with a quick uppercut to the jaw. The second he grabbed by the throat and bared his fangs.

“Do you know who I am? I could kill you right here for even daring to look in my direction if I wanted.”

The vamp’s eyes went wide. He blinked several times and seemed to come to his senses. “Sorry.”

Neeman squeezed the vamp’s throat tighter, pulling him close. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I’m sorry.” The vamp’s already bluish-colored face was now ashen.

Neeman dropped him to the ground as a bouncer pushed through the crowd.

“Is there a problem?” He looked at the vamp on the ground.

“Not anymore.” Neeman’s gaze swept to the female who still swayed within a throng of male vamps, her slender hands raised high above her head. He blinked twice as the lights turned from blue to pink on the dance floor. The hairs on his neck stood up. Her skin no longer held the bluish tint of a vamp. She now looked positively rosy. He stalked forward and shoved the vamps aside. Grabbing the female by the wrist, he turned her to face him.

“Hands off.” She shoved Neeman in the chest and his gaze met a pair of brilliant, purple eyes. She stopped moving and sucked in a breath at the sight of him.

She was human.

The two stared at each other for several seconds. Her heart-shaped face sported high cheekbones flushed a light shade of peach. Her beauty was mesmerizing. Foreign and lovely, her eyes held a strength he’d rarely seen.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, coming to his senses. “Where’s your master?”

A slight smile played upon her lush lips. “I have no master, loverboy, but would be happy to allow you to take me home if you wish.”

Her raspy, sexy voice stirred desire within him. She was the walking, talking fantasy every man dreamed of. She slid her hand up his chest and encircled her arms around his neck.

“It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been with a man. Especially a vampyr. Why don’t you take me to your place and we can dance there?”

Neeman’s senses lit up like firecrackers. Her scent swirled around him, teasing his resolve. Her eyes held him captive and refused to let him go. She pressed her body against his and the softness of her flesh rubbed against him as she swayed her hips again. For a moment, Neeman forgot everything. Where he was. Who he was. What he was supposed to be doing. She brought her face closer to his and inhaled.

“I love the smell of your cologne.”

“I don’t wear cologne,” he managed.

“You don’t?” Her eyebrows knit together again and she stood on her tiptoes to reach his neck. Neeman held completely still as she sniffed him again. “Mmm… I think it might just be you, loverboy.”

Neeman tracked her every movement. Her eyes flashed and shivers ran up his spine. Something wasn’t right. Without pretense, he grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder.