Starr, Ellen - Wolf's Passion [The Joined] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) (20 page)

At the sight of the blood, cold fury knotted in Jean-Paul’s chest. “Let’s go, shall we?”

Chapter Thirty:

Love, Security, Home, and Vampires

“Forgive them, Doc, they are cursed with the disease of youth.” Jean-Paul favored their host with an apologetic smile.

“Yes, I can see that.” Doc looked them over.

Wolf frowned. This was crazy. Cora needed them. They didn’t have time to fool around with some insane Vampire that thought he was still living in the Old West. “Jean-Paul, we don’t—”

“Have time? Yes, you do. If you want our help, that is.” Doc gave Wolf an insincere smile. “And believe me, cousin, you do want our help.”

“Patience,
cher
, we cannot afford not to have Doc’s help. Old Town is his domain.” Jean-Paul laid his hand on Wolf’s shoulder.

“Indeed. It seems that it is past time we took an interest in the affairs of our Werewolf cousins.”

“Cousins? We aren’t related. What does this have to do with getting Cora back?” Wolf crossed his arms and glared at the foppish so-called leader of Old Town.

“Oh, but we are related, little cousin. Hasn’t anyone ever told you what happens to the very old Werewolves?” Doc gave Wolf a pitying look. “Jean-Paul, I’m surprised at you.”

“We get old, we get killed in a challenge, or we just get old and fucking die.” Wolf turned to Rafe and Dale. “Come on, let’s go.”

“That isn’t precisely true. You do get old. You do not necessarily
fucking die
. If you are of the Blood and you survive long enough, you change.” Jean-Paul kept his tone politely neutral. “It is a metamorphosis of a sort.”

“Change. Into what?”

“Why, into one of us, of course. You are a treat. Jean-Paul, where did you find such an innocent?” Doc grinned.

Wolf looked from Doc to Jean-Paul. They’d gone mad. They were both stark raving crazy.

“Shame on you, Doc. Can’t you see they’re worried about their lady love?” The woman’s Hungarian-accented voice came from the shadows behind them. Wolf turned to see a small, dark-haired woman step into the dim light. “I expect bad manners from Jean-Paul. He is of the Blood and not one of the Born. I do not expect such behavior from you.”

“Kate.” Jean-Paul inclined his head in a mock bow. She ignored him, extending her hand to Wolf. He took it, unsure what to do. Behind her Jean-Paul mimed kissing his hand. Wolf imitated Jean-Paul and touched his lips to the back of the woman’s hand.

“It was delivered poorly but nonetheless true. Werewolves, if they manage to live long enough, become Vampires. That, my dear, is why you are here instead of charging off like a knight in shining armor to rescue your lady.”

“I don’t understand any of this. I just want Cora back safe.”

“To put it simply, dear, there are three of you facing a much larger number of Werewolves. Fortunately, Jean-Paul has the sense to come to us and ask for our help. As distant relatives, so to speak.”

“How can you help?” Wolf was still confused, but he pushed it aside to focus on Cora. She needed them whether these Vampires were insane or not. If they thought they could help, fine. Just as long as they didn’t get in his way.

“You are planning to exchange yourself for Cora tomorrow evening at the Ice House. We will be there.” Kate stopped beside Doc and leaned against him. “To even the odds.”

“Thank you.” Wolf glanced at the others. They looked just as confused as he felt. All but Jean-Paul, who motioned for them to leave.

* * * *

Outside, Wolf’s patience evaporated. He grabbed Jean-Paul by his shirt and slammed Cora’s fiancé up against the side of the truck. “What the hell is going on here?”

“We have just increased our odds of getting out of this with your little Pack intact,
cher
.
That
is what the hell is going on. They will fight alongside us—”

“How? The council will run us out of town for working with Vampires. What good does any of this do if we lose everything we’ve fought for?”

“I thought we are fighting for Cora’s life.” The ice in Jean-Paul’s words made Wolf let go. He stepped back.

Wolf took a deep breath then let it out slowly, fighting for calm. “You don’t understand. None of us has ever had anything close to a real home.” Wolf’s quiet voice broke. “With Cora and the ranch we have a chance. We are fighting for her life. And ours as well.”

“Let me tell you something, my fine
loup-garou
. Home is not a place,
cher
. It is a state of being. The feeling you get with someone who completes you. Learn that. Because if all you want Cora for is to keep a building and a plot of land, I will kill you right here and rescue Cora myself.”

“You can try, dead man.” Wolf clenched his fists. Before he knew what hit him, Jean-Paul’s hand gripped his throat.

“I will tell you a truth even Cora does not know. I was born first generation
loup-garou
in the year 532 BC. I survived to become Vampire in the year AD 819. I have survived plague, crusades, revolutions, wars, and the Inquisition. Trust me, there would be no contest at all.
Cher
.” Wolf stared back into Jean-Paul’s dark eyes. “And I. Am. Not. Dead.”

Jean-Paul let Wolf go with a little push. He staggered. Rafe caught his arm. Dale stepped between them. Wolf touched his throat and glared at Jean-Paul. “I love Cora. Can you say the same?”

Jean-Paul sighed. “Would I be here if I didn’t? I have loved Cora since 11:15 the morning of January 7
^th
, 1917, the moment she walked into my office in New Orleans.”

“We all love Cora. Why are we fighting?” Dale asked, cutting straight to the heart of things.

“You are right,
cher
. This profits nothing. We have an advantage. The Colony will back us. The odds are even now.”

“How do we know Dolores hasn’t got Vampire backing?” Rafe asked, ever practical.

“You did not know we are connected. You were never taught. She is local, is she not?” They nodded. “Thus she does not know. I have some doubt your council knows.”

“What about Dolores’s Mexican friends?” Wolf was still skeptical, but he’d let this Werewolves-turning-into-Vampires thing slide until they had Cora back.

“They are why I wanted backing from the local Vampires. They are a wild card. They could know. If they do, they will not take part in the fight when we take Cora back.”

They moved to get into the truck. Wolf stopped Jean-Paul. “When this is over—”

“Cora will decide. I love her enough to want her happy no matter what happens. Do you?” Jean-Paul climbed into the truck.

Chapter Thirty-One:

The Ice House

Wolf stood up, moving toward the table where Dolores sat with her Pack and Cora before Jean-Paul could stop him. He heard Rafe following him. He tuned out the murmur of his Pack's thoughts and focused on his quarry. Stopping a few feet from the table, he waited for Dolores to look up. “We’ve been waiting for you, Wolf,” Dolores said with an evil smirk. “What? No smart-ass remark to make?” The Werewolves from Mexico snickered. There was something odd about them, but he ignored it. He wanted Cora back and his Pack safely out of there. Nothing else mattered.

“I’ve kept my part of the deal. I’m here. Let Cora go now.” Wolf kept his eyes on Dolores, holding onto his disgust and anger. If he looked at Cora’s bruised face, he knew he would lose what little control he had left.

Dolores laughed. “Why not?” She motioned to the Werewolf holding Cora’s arm, and he gave her a little push. She stumbled into Rafe. He caught her, pulling her over to him. She clung to his arm.

“Take Cora back to the table. Now.” Wolf heard them backing up and walking away.

* * * *

Seated with Doc, Jean-Paul watched what was happening on the other side of the room at Dolores’s table. He kept his hand on Dale’s arm. “Oh,
cher
, this is not good. Not good at all.” His stomach knotted up in disgust. Several of the creatures with Dolores were neither human nor Werewolf. He gagged. “Doc?”

“What is it?” Dale glanced at him, concerned.

“I see them. I am tempted to run screaming in terror like a little girl.” Doc’s bland tone belied his words.

“The things with Dolores, the ones with the vacant eyes. Do not let them bite you,
cher
, at any cost. To kill them you must take their heads off.”

“What are they?” Jean-Paul heard the primal fear in Dale’s voice.

“They are the real walking dead,
cher
. Zombies.”

“Rafe has Cora.” Dale tensed and shifted his chair.

“I am going now. Remember,
cher
, just like we planned.” Jean-Paul rose to his feet.

“Like we planned. Right.” He heard Dale moving into position behind him.

“Oh,
mon amour
,” Jean-Paul whispered when he saw the marks on Cora’s face. He hadn’t seen such injury on her in many years. Her eyes widened when she saw him. The way her eyes lit up made his heart swell with emotion.

* * * *

Dolores stood and held her hand out to Wolf. She clearly thought she’d won.
Not in a million years, bitch
. Wolf stepped forward and caught Dolores’s wrist, jerking her to him. Touching her made his skin crawl. He flung her against the wall. Chairs scraped and clattered to the floor as her companions leaped to their feet. He ignored them.

Dazed, Dolores slid down as her feet went out from under her. Grabbing her shoulders, he slammed her against the wall again when she tried to rise. Wolf’s hand closed around her throat. Dolores grabbed his hands, trying to break his hold. The fear in her eyes didn’t make him feel any better. All it did was make him sick. He bared his teeth. “It’s over, Dolores. I belong to Cora. Touch her again and you die.”

Dolores shoved, knocking him away from her. The force of her desperation broke the hold he had on her, knocking him off balance. “You fool. You could have had a place in our empire. You could have stood with me.” Her voice rose with each word. Wolf stared at her in shocked confusion. She used the chance to scramble to her feet. “Kill them all,” she shrieked.

Someone opened fire with an automatic weapon. In a flash, the air was filled with screams and more gunfire.

Wolf clambered to his feet, looking for Cora. He saw her across the room. One of Dolores’s misbegotten Pack aimed a gun at her. He launched himself at the man, but Jean-Paul was already there. With a swipe of one clawed hand, Jean-Paul ripped out the man’s throat. Their eyes met, and Wolf understood just what he’d been challenging. A chill ran through him.

One of the odd Werewolves Dolores had brought came at him, teeth bared. Something in the blank expression made Wolf’s blood run cold. He made a grab for a nearby table and pushed it into the creature’s gut. It barely slowed the thing down. Wolf backed away and bumped into someone. He caught an arm. It was one of Dolores’s human Pack. Wolf slung the man into the creature and ran.

He would remember that horrific, wet screech forever. A hand caught his arm. He raised his clawed hand to strike. It was Jean-Paul. “Did it bite you?”