Mystic's Run

Wolfsbane was packed and only a small percentage of those crowding the club were human. All the tables were claimed, as were the booths, but Christian and Hawk were content to rest against the dark wood of the bar.

The male and female bartenders were both shifters, golden with thick manes of hair. Christian thought they might be cougars. Their movements had the smooth, fluid grace of a mountain lion. Mates, maybe. The male's vibes were protective, his focus on serving drinks but his awareness extending to what was going on around the female. When she turned, Christian's opinion changed. Siblings. They had the same startling light brown eyes.

The bartender brought the beers he and Hawk had ordered then moved away. Without Mystic's presence, they were reduced to verbal conversation. Given the crowd, it meant they couldn't openly discuss much of what was on their minds.

Christian took a swallow of beer. In the past he'd always avoided places like this, where pack wolves came to intermingle with vampires and other shifters. He didn't need the hassle, didn't need the conflict inherent in being a lone wolf and a cop.

On days when he was honest with himself, he also admitted he avoided places like Wolfsbane because he didn't need to stir up feelings of isolation and loneliness. He lived in a human world. He was content living in a human world. Or at least he had been.

He took another drink from the chilled mug and glanced at Hawk. He felt the beginnings of a pack bond forming between them. Hell, more than the beginnings. They shared a woman. They'd spent hours in bed with her, competing at first but then working in tandem to make her scream in orgasm. They'd hunted together and been linked mentally while they'd done it.

Christian shifted position to give his cock some relief. He couldn't think about Mystic and not get hard. It was taking all his willpower not to part the barrier between his mind and hers. He knew she was fine, safe, probably already at Wyldfyres. Knowing anything more would have him repeatedly jerking off in a bathroom stall.

Hawk's face told Christian he wasn't alone in his suffering. Without meaning to he said, "After this, I want to get away for a while, go on a long honeymoon."

The pronouncement was met with raised eyebrows and a flash of white teeth. "You'll invite Roman and me to the wedding I trust, and the honeymoon won't be a twosome." He cocked his head. "It's a romantic gesture. Very human. Mystic will be touched by it. I think she'll agree to a marriage and I doubt Roman will protest."

"You don't care?"

Hawk shrugged. "It's not the way of our kind. Some do it, usually those who are more visible in our businesses, more in the public eye. Most of the important assets are owned by the pack, not the individual. Inheritance isn't an issue, at least not when it comes to the outside world. If I'm successful in my bid to separate, a corporation will be formed by our council as a place to accumulate assets for the benefit of all of us."

Christian frowned. The thought of being completely dependent on some nameless corporation run by Weres he didn't know gave him the chills.

The tiny braids of Hawk's hair shook as he laughed. "It's not as bad as you're imagining. We have legitimate jobs and get paid for doing them. The money is ours to dispose of as we see fit. We have the freedom to buy our own houses if we want to, to live completely apart from each other if we want to, but why would we? There's comfort and companionship, security in knowing you're with people who will guard your back and come to your aid in an instant."

"So why leave? Why start something new?" Christian asked though he could guess the answer.

"I'm too strong an alpha to be satisfied living under the rule of others. My father, uncles, the majority of the elders. I respect them too much to challenge them and their leadership doesn't deserve one. They're good men, honorable men. The normal way would be to find a weak group, one where there's a void in authority, or where those in charge should be stripped of their power. The downside is you inherit a dynamic, situations and people you might not choose to deal with otherwise."

"Wouldn't be my first choice either," Christian said. "Hard to know who and what to trust."

"Exactly."

Christian contemplated the situation. He'd assumed there must be some kind of governing body, some kind of policing to keep werewolves from fighting with each other or becoming known to the human population. But until now he'd never had someone he could ask, someone who'd explain the intricacies to him. "You think you'll get what you want from the council?"

"With Mystic as a mate, yes. The Renaldis have a lot of allies. Their females are as valued as ours are. They're considered equal in status to an alpha bitch."

Christian grimaced. He knew Hawk's words were praise and not condemnation, but he didn't like hearing Mystic labeled a bitch.

Hawk laughed again, correctly interpreting Christian's thoughts. Christian hesitated, remembered the moment Gabby changed in the car and he'd truly, without any doubt, felt the wolf hidden deep inside Mystic. "How do we convince Mystic she has the same abilities as the other Renaldi females?"

"We don't."

Christian opened his mouth to protest then closed it. Hawk was right. It was a sensitive, painful subject for Mystic. Any attempt to convince her would only make her worry she was destined to disappoint them. For a brief instant he wondered if Roman could hypnotize her deeply enough to get her to embrace and accept the wolf, but he pushed it from his thoughts. It'd be a violation of her trust and regardless of the end result, it wasn't the right way, for any of them.

As if picking up on Christian's thoughts, Hawk said, "When the time is right, we'll help her through the change. We're both strong enough. Every time we connect with her, mate with her, the bond deepens and strengthens. Eventually she won't be able to resist the call."

Christian nodded. He felt the truth of what Hawk was saying. He was already so connected to Mystic he hated being away from her.

"You'll want to remain a cop?" Hawk asked.

"I don't know," Christian said, surprising them both.

Hawk signaled the bartender for another round of beers. Christian examined his own unexpected answer. A couple of hours ago he would have answered differently.

The weight of the dead Were hung on his conscience, not because the kill wasn't righteous but because he saw the conflict with his sworn oath to uphold human law. It was different for Rico, Skye Coronado's mate. He might be mated to an Angelini and share her with a vampire, but he was human. He stayed out of supernatural affairs unless they touched on one of his cases, and even then, he worked it from a human perspective and kept a buffer of deniability separating him from his mate's world.

Christian's lone wolf status and human upbringing had allowed him to skirt the edges, to venture into the supernatural world only when he had to and thankfully it'd only been peripheral to his cases. He was a hunter of serial killers and those willing to order multiple murders. There were plenty of humans who fit the category.

He was good at his job. Until Mystic had come into his life, it had defined who and what he was. Christian didn't think it did any longer. The scene at the rogue Weres' house played through his mind only instead of a wolf, a man attacked them.

His training would still have kicked in. Quick, deadly. A kill shot. There was no such thing as aiming to wound. But faced with the body of a man, his badge would have burned a hole in his honor and his soul. "Have you ever had to...eliminate a threat?" he asked.

Hawk passed Christian a second beer and laughed silently at the odd turns Fate and magic could take. He'd reconciled himself to sharing Mystic with another wolf. He'd thought it would be Jagger or someone from the Zevanti pack. Now he couldn't imagine a better fit than Christian and yet he would never have considered it possible with someone who'd been raised outside of a pack. "Yes. Overseas. On behalf of Uncle Sam."

Christian's surprise was easy to read. Hawk didn't often think about his days in the service. He didn't miss them. He'd done what he needed to do for longer than he'd originally signed on to do it. "You're not the only one of us to wear a uniform."

"Army?"

"Marines. First and last time without hair," he joked, shaking his head just enough to make the beads woven into his braids click together softly.

Christian lifted his mug in a silent salute. "I wouldn't have guessed."

"Not many of us can do it. You have to be able to control yourself at all times, under all circumstances."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"What would you do if you weren't a cop?"

"Don't know. Until today I never thought about not being one."

Hawk hesitated. He didn't want to rush Christian but he didn't see any point in pretending the question didn't need to be asked. "You'd wear a brand?"

Christian exhaled over the foam of his beer. "For Mystic, yeah, for her I would."

* * * * *

Rafe's clothing was in a neat pile outside the room. A human dressed in a risque version of a maid's outfit stood to the side. She curtsied, holding the position until they'd all stepped through the doorway.

With a casualness Mystic didn't think she'd ever manage, Rafe dressed in full view of anyone who cared to watch. Then again, he'd already shown his magnificent, fantasy-worthy stuff.

She couldn't help herself, her attention flicked back and forth between Brann and Rafe. Images of them together played out on the screen of her mind. They were right for one another, right for Syndelle.

With a thought she checked up on Christian and Hawk. They were still at Wolfsbane, comfortable in each other's company, and with Gabe and Gabby who'd just arrived. Already she could sense the pack bond forming between the four wolves. It pleased her. Though the Zevantis would have preferred for Gabe and Gabby to migrate to separate packs for political reasons, they wouldn't prevent them from allying themselves with Hawk and her.

Mentally she rubbed against Christian and Hawk then laughed at herself for the wolflike gesture. Their heat found her, a sensation of warm fur that made her quiver inside and grow wet again despite having been completely satisfied by Roman several times already.

No sign of the rogue Weres?

No, Hawk said. But there are traces of their scent here and they seem to favor a certain table. We've managed to secure a booth where they won't immediately see us.

A ripple of awareness flowed into her from Roman and with it came the faintest taint of the dark mage's magic. Marta just arrived, she said, or someone equally tainted.

She read their thoughts, knew they accepted she was safe, but still they both said, Let the vampires handle the fledgling.

Mystic shook her head, amusement filling her along with the warmth of being cared for by such macho men. As if I'd attack a vampire in a place like Wyldfyres where the majority of the humans are naked and wearing slave bands.

Growls met her comeback. But underneath were humor and a touch of curiosity about a club where the only werewolves who could safely enter were those who had the unfortunate destiny, at least in Hawk and Christian's opinion, of being a vampire's companion.

Mystic let the link fade so she could concentrate on her surroundings. She spotted Marta a few minutes later. The fledgling was practically drooling over the naked humans who were available for blood, sex and perhaps more if their owners allowed it.

A blond waiter wearing nothing but slave bands stopped next to her. Her hands went to his chest then traveled downward to measure and weigh the abundance he'd been gifted with. Even soft, his cock was huge, and his testicles...

All three of your mates can serve you better, Roman said. His voice held the savage warning of a lion.

Mystic shivered. The desire to tease him rose up, a dark path leading to fantasies she'd never lingered on before he'd come into her life.

You have to admit, he's impressive, Mystic said, glancing up at Roman from beneath lowered eyelashes, licking her lips to add emphasis.

His nostrils flared. The cold flames of vampire fire burned in his pupils even as the part of him that was beast pressed against his skin with the need to dominate her completely.

Roman leaned in. He didn't touch her physically and yet she felt surrounded by him, held and enthralled. He radiated power, desire, menace-possessiveness. Do it again, he challenged.

Mystic's attention returned to Marta and the slave. She'd ordered him to spread his legs, or he'd done it on his own. Now she knelt in front of him, one finger stroking his inner thigh, tracing the flow of hot, rich blood through his femoral artery while the index finger of her other hand glided over the dark blue vein on the underside of his erect cock.

The fledgling seemed completely unaware of anything beyond the roar of blood, the heavy testicles and rigid penis of the man in front of her. Mystic imagined herself kneeling in front of Roman, not with Marta's predatory intensity but with the submissiveness of a vampire companion.

She felt Roman's anticipation, vampire lust and a lion's desire to pounce. She answered his challenge with the slow, slick glide of her tongue over her bottom lip.

His response was immediate, fierce. His fingers tangled in her hair and forced her head back. Fangs plunged into her exposed neck and sent a shock of pleasure straight to her clit. She whimpered, helpless against the heat and need burning her from the inside out.

Roman widened his stance. He positioned her so her throbbing clit pressed hard against his thigh. One hand remained tangled in the hair at her nape while the other glided down her spine. He yanked her skirt up, exposing the globes of her ass for anyone who cared to watch, demonstrating for all that he was the master.

The erotic feel of leather against her inner thighs made Mystic's cunt clench. As she'd done with Christian the first time, she sought relief. She ground against Roman's thigh, rubbed her engorged knob against hard muscle and the masculine promise of pleasure.

She wished it could be skin against skin but his pants weren't a barrier to sensation. The room around them faded as soft mews gave way to low moans, as the urgent press and retreat gave way to hips bucking followed by the keening of release. And through it all Roman fed greedily at her neck, feasted on both her blood and her orgasm, the vampire and the man satisfied they'd made an impression on their mate.

Mystic sagged against him. She would have melted into a puddle of delicious satisfaction at his feet if he hadn't held her upright.

Roman licked his tongue over the bite mark. His lips curved upward in a smile against her skin.

Despite everything she'd done and witnessed since stepping through the front door of Wyldfyres, Mystic still blushed when she eased away from Roman and was greeted by Brann's, "If you two are finished amusing yourselves, perhaps we could attend to the true business of the night."

Their focus shifted to Marta. Another slave had moved in, anxious for the ecstasy of a bite and perhaps sensing the fledgling was young and inexperienced, capable of draining him and forcing his owner to step forward and offer a wrist. Mystic thought it was a dangerous gamble.

The second slave was black-haired, more favored by nature than the first but Marta barely gave him a glance. "If she is like Hugh," Brann said, "ignorant and untutored in our ways and our laws, once she's satisfied herself with blood it'll be only a few minutes before she offends someone far more powerful than she is. Since the fledgling appears to favor blonds, Rafe can lure her away from her current quarry. I doubt she'll recognize him for what he is, but she'll be drawn by his beauty and the heady richness of his blood. To a fledgling, he'll be irresistible."

Rafe's eyes gleamed with challenge. He altered his stance so his cock was more pronounced, a hard thick ridge against the front of his pants. With the easy grace of a man well versed in seduction, he fondled his barbell studded nipple, circled and rubbed and tweaked as the ruby at the ends of the barbell glittered and winked. "Only to fledglings?"

"You try my patience," Brann purred. "But I'd prefer to wait until we get home to Syndelle before taking you in hand again."

Rafe snickered and stopped playing with his nipple. "Be right back," he said.

It was as easy as Brann said it would be. The slave, even naked, was no match for Rafael's allure.

Mystic knew Marta was tainted by Brallin's dark magic, but she was still surprised when the fledgling calmly approached, not fighting as Hugh had done once he recognized the ancient vampire creation magic flowing through Brann and Roman's veins.

Roman said, It is as Brann said, just as the magic Brann and I have gained from Syndelle submerses itself deep inside us while we're among so many other vampires, the dark mage's magic does the same. Somewhere else, either alone or among humans, the magics would react to one another. She'd instinctively flee or try to kill us. But here she doesn't dare.

We have much to learn still. Until Brann can question Hugh and Marta further, until we capture Egan Walsh, we don't know whether the dark magic fills him in the same way the creation magic of the vampire fills Syndelle, or if he is just a tool, a faulty vessel allowed to play and perhaps stir up trouble for vampire and werewolves alike.

As soon as Marta and Rafe joined them, Brann wrapped his hand around the fledgling's arm. "You will come with us now," he said, his voice barely audible but his power such that Marta's eyes immediately glazed.

They left without hurrying though Mystic was well aware of the surreptitious glances the other vampires were giving them. Speculation would follow, but only after the council's executioner was no longer in the club.