Cyclone Page 9

  Frieda is fast and strong, he told himself. She can defend herself against a vampire.

  But against a dozen? If Rudolph wanted something, would he care about an audience? Or would he maybe even find it more exciting to have people watch? The thought made Stewart sick to his stomach. His wolf snarled, and he acted on instinct. His whole body seemed to ripple and in the next second, he felt himself changing shape. Fangs and claws and fur. He lunged for the vampire that had hit him, ripping himself from the hold of the other one.

  His teeth snapped on air as the vampire backpedaled. The one who had been helping him let out a shout and jumped on top of Stewart’s back, wrapping one muscled arm around his neck and squeezing. Stewart’s breath choked out. He twisted in the vampire’s grasp and the arm only tightened further. He clawed at the arm.

  And then the thought came to his mind, if he tore open his wounds again here, or if he was injured too badly now, then how was he supposed to fight later? He knew that Guinevere was meant to mobilize her army and come after them as soon as she received word that they’d been captured… But things could always go wrong, and he needed to be at full strength, just in case…

  He let himself go limp. The guard held on a little longer, then hissed in his ear. “Shift back. I know it’s against your nature, but you can’t save her if you’re dead.”

  “What are you muttering about?” one of the others demanded.

  The guard punched him in the kidney, sending pain flaring through his body. Stewart grunted, but slowly shifted back to his human form. His mind whirled. Was this guard going to help him? He said he hated it when the king did this… could it be possible that this was the final straw for him?

  The vampire dragged him back to his feet. “You gonna cause more trouble or you gonna be reasonable?”

  Stewart forced himself to go a little limp. He leaned against the vampire heavily. Another of the guards pulled a set of cuffs out, but his guard waved them off.

  “If he tries anything we’ll just beat the tar out of him.”

  The other vampires laughed at that. Stewart tried to suppress a growl, though he wasn’t entirely successful. It didn’t really matter. It earned him a half-hearted slap, and then they continued on. His nerves were on edge, every scent and sound seeming to ram itself into his brain. He wanted to throw off the vampire and go tearing off to find Frieda, but he still had that uncomfortable sinking feeling in his chest that they were taking him to her already. And he wasn’t going to like what he found.

  The guards dragged him into a dark room. At first, he was confused until he saw the window showing into a separate room. Frieda sat on a couch, and Rudolph was nearby, pouring out wine. Stewart’s mouth opened slightly, confused, until he realized what it was… a two-way mirror. So, Rudolph intended to make him watch…

  He snarled and got a fist packed to his ribs for it. The scene unfolded, and Stewart found it increasingly difficult to stay still—and when Rudolph bit her, he couldn’t. With a howl of rage, he threw himself at the window. The guard released him, crying out as though in pain. Several of the others dodged in, grabbing Stewart.

  Frieda cried out, pressing a hand to her wound as she fell from view. The vampire king laughed, looping his thumbs into his belt as he stared down at her. He said something, but Stewart didn’t hear what it was.

  He punched a vampire in the face, then whipped around to sink his fangs into the arm of another one. He twisted sharply, throwing the vampire over his shoulder and into the mirror. It shattered, and Rudolph turned, eyes widening. Stewart leapt through the broken glass, ignoring the shouts behind him. All he cared about was getting at Rudolph—and then getting Frieda out of here.

  Rudolph grinned and easily sidestepped his attack. He grabbed Stewart by the neck and flung him over his shoulder. Stewart hit the ground hard. The king struck out rapidly, so fast that Stewart couldn’t see his hands move; it was just blow after blow centering on his chest and stomach. His heart stuttered under the force of the blows.

  Stewart rolled, shifting back to human form. As he hoped, Rudolph wasn’t expecting that; Stewart was able to grab the base of a broken wine glass and jam it up into Rudolph’s jugular. The king jerked back instinctively; Stewart shifted again and latched his jaws around the king’s head. With a mighty wrench and tear, his teeth cut through flesh. The guards all leapt on him, fists pounding against his body, but it was too late. With another wrench, he took off the king’s head.

  There was a long, frenzied howl from behind him. The guard who had helped him before abandoned the fight, dashing for the broken mirror. A few of the others looked around, and then Frieda was on them. She tore apart two before Stewart even understood what was happening. Her eyes were almost fully black, a terrible snarl on her lips as she pounced on another vampire. Stewart’s heart gave a lurch; she was going rapid, the vampire venom turning her mind to the basest of instincts.

  He flipped over, keeping out of Frieda’s way as she picked off stragglers. The rest of the vampires tried to hold against her, but it was clear they were in a losing battle. Stewart retreated and watched as Frieda tore through them like tissue paper. The sickly sweet smell of rotten fruit increased until it burned in his nostrils. Frieda tore apart the last one with a savage snarl, then whirled around. Her black eyes focused on him and she lunged.

  Stewart flipped to his back, showing his belly. She skidded to a stop, a look of surprise coming over her expression. He twitched, she snarled, and he took a deep breath. As human, she’d tear him apart in seconds.

  But if he didn’t get her calmed down, she was going to die. The venom would kill her. He exhaled slowly, then let himself shift back to his human form. He stayed laying on his back as he reached out to her. She snarled a warning.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered.

  Memories flashed through his mind. His father reaching out to his mother just like this, her black eyes roving in her head. Madness and pain making her muscles twitch and her body jerk. Right before she killed him, and then herself. Sometimes he wished that his father had just left her, grabbed him, Roxy and Andy and fled. Now he knew why that had never been an option.

  “It’s me, Frieda,” he continued to whisper, moving a little closer. “I know you’re scared. I know you’re in pain. It’s the venom. It’s making you go rabid. If you let me, I can suck out the venom. Let me help you, please. Please, darling. I love you. I can’t lose you.”

  Frieda gave a little shiver. She backed away from him, shaking her head. A whine came from her throat. He knew she could turn against him in a second but didn’t let that stop him. He slowly moved to his hands and knees and crawled toward her.

  “Please,” he breathed. “Let me help you.”

  Frieda trembled. She dropped to her belly, whined, and shook her head. Stewart quickly moved to her side. The wound in her neck was crusted with green venom, but he ignored the disgust rolling around in his stomach and bent over her. The venom was the worst possible taste he could ever imagine; there was no comparison. It made him gag, his stomach churned, and he retched several times.

  But he kept sucking until he could taste her blood, clean without the taint of venom. She still shook, and he knew that the effects of the venom would not so easily fade, but it was as good as they were going to get.

  Frieda moaned as she shifted back to her human form. Her naked body was covered in sweat and she shivered madly as Stewart gathered her into his arms. One of her hands pressed briefly to his cheek, then it dropped again. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Stewart’s chest burned with the need to get her out of here.

  He stumbled to his feet, an exhaustion in his limbs that hadn’t been there when he’d jumped through the window. Because he was shifting so often, or because he’d ingested some of the venom as he sucked it from Frieda’s system? It hardly mattered… he pushed past the ache in his legs and headed for the door. It was locked, and he had to shift Frieda in his arms in order to turn the deadbolt. Once the door was open, klaxon
alarms started to blare.

  Stewart flinched, stumbled, and picked a direction. He started running, not caring if it was going to take him to the entrance or not. He just needed to get out of here!

  A dozen guards rounded the corner ahead of him. One of them gave a shout and started after them as he wheeled about. The vampires flew into the air, streamlining themselves as they came after him. Stewart threw himself to the floor. Frieda moaned as he tucked her into a corner, praying none of the vampires went after her while he was still fighting.

  He bounded to his feet, aiming a punch at the nearest vampire’s face. He missed; to his surprise, the vampire didn’t attack him. The whole lot of them flew past. Stewart’s head whipped around to see two dozen vampires wearing Guinevere’s crest crash into Rudolph’s guard. He sagged against the wall, blinking several times.

  A hiss sounded in his ear, and he turned to find one of the guards hovering over him. Stewart groaned, then threw himself forward. He wasn’t giving up, not when help was finally at hand!

  “Stewie,” Frieda moaned as his fist connected with the vampire’s face. “Stewie….”

  His heart stopped as she went utterly limp. No! Not now! He turned on the vampire and redoubled his efforts, his fists flashing through the air. He wasn’t going to let go… not now… not ever…

  Hang in there, Frieda. Please!

  ***

  It took them three hours to get out of Rudolph’s kingdom. After Guinevere’s army showed up, he had carried Frieda with him as they made their way out. By the time they were finally free, he had been on the verge of collapsing. Once they made it back to Guinevere’s kingdom, he had collapsed. He woke only at the sound of Frieda’s moans and found Dr. Mia bending over her.

  At first Stewart’s instinct was to snap at her to leave Frieda alone, but luckily, good sense prevailed. He sat up, watching anxiously. Mia glanced at him, gave him a half smile, and returned to her work.

  “She’s going to be fine. I’ve administered an anti-venom. Her vitals are all good.” Mia covered Frieda with a blanket. “My mate is here, if you want to talk with him.”

  Typhoon? At first, Stewart didn’t think he’d want to talk with Typhoon at all… but as the events that had happened, and what had almost happened, crashed down on him, he found himself snarling like a beast. He sprang to his feet and stalked out of the room—lavish, but tasteful, like all of Guinevere’s décor—into a separate apartment space. Typhoon waited there, hands laced together.

  “You had no right to send us in there,” Stewart roared, barely stopping himself from lunging at Typhoon. “Do you have any idea what almost happened?”

  “Almost,” Typhoon returned calmly. “I am sorry for whatever you went through, but if you’re saying something almost happened, then I have to assume that it didn’t happen.”

  Stewart balled his hands into fists. “It was an impossible mission and you—”

  “For an impossible mission, you certainly did well.”

  “Don’t start playing games, Typhoon.” Stewart snarled as he came at Typhoon, about ready to tear his fucking head off. Typhoon hardly even blinked. The sheer power and force of being alpha made him intimidating. Stewart’s wolf wanted to submit, even though Typhoon hadn’t done anything overtly threatening yet. He pushed that urge aside, too furious and too afraid of what might have happened if he hadn’t gotten to Frieda in time. “He was going to rape her. You should have warned us that—”

  “What?” Typhoon’s eyes widened. He got to his feet. “Are you serious?”

  Stewart fell silent. He was too blown away by Typhoon’s seeming not to have known the threat levels to make a response.

  Typhoon glanced over Stewart’s shoulder at the door. He let out a shaky breath and shook his head. “Vampires generally pride themselves on sexual purity. Humans are okay in a pinch, but they see sexual acts with shifters as little more than bestiality. I had no idea… Fuck!” He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t even consider… if I had, I would have sent you with someone else.”

  Stewart frowned. “Me?”

  “You were the only one with some measure of immunity. Everybody knows about Guinevere and Twister. As his brother, you’re prime for being kept alive as a hostage. Nobody else has that.” Typhoon stared at him hard for a moment, then sighed. “You’ve earned a place on the Brotherhood, if you want it. You might even be alpha material. Being part of the Savage Brotherhood means you have to do hard things. Is that what you want?”

  Stewart felt his anger draining away. He turned his face. After what he had seen and done, did he still want to be part of this? Yes. To stop something like this happening again.

  He took in a deep breath. “I will be an alpha someday. Sooner, rather than later.”

  Typhoon’s lips twitched.

  “And in the meantime, what happens to me? I killed vampires in vampire territory. The treaty…”

  This time, Typhoon all-out grinned. “Ah. Well, you see that’s another reason I chose you for this mission. You’re under Guinevere's protection. By vampire law, as her brother-in-law, you’re her citizen. The rules aren’t quite the same for you. There will be no repercussions against you or Frieda… so long as you marry within an appropriate timeframe.”

  Stewart stared at him, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or not. There was no joke in Typhoon’s eyes. Stewart snorted. Sure. He’d get right on that… but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the thought of Frieda dressed all in white. He would get right on that indeed!

  Chapter Twelve

  Polaris

  A month after the assassination of Rudolph, things more or less calmed down. Guinevere officially annexed the kingdom, making Frieda and Stewart’s actions somewhat legal in the eyes of vampire law. She wasn’t exactly thrilled about the added responsibility, but Twister assured Frieda that she wasn’t going to back out of it.

  Frieda was no longer afraid of a flare-up of vampire venom, either. She had never recovered so fast before, and that was thanks to Dr. Mia. The tiger shifter really did have a way with medicine. It was a relief to be discharged from Guinevere’s personal hospital. The scent of vampire was really starting to grate on her, even if she did have plenty of shifter visitors during the day.

  Perhaps one of the greatest things to come out of the whole assassination debacle was that Twister had finally calmed down about her relationship with Stewart. “It’s not that I didn’t want you two together,” he had explained to her while driving her back to her place once she was discharged. “It was more that it was just weird… like finding my sister and brother… you know. I never knew you felt that way toward him. Honestly, part of it was because I was miffed at the two of you for not telling me.”

  Frieda smirked as she glanced over to her left, where Stewart sat in a tattoo chair. She lay on her stomach, naked to the waist, while her tattoo artist worked on the new tat she had designed for this occasion. Stewart grinned at her as his artist finished up the detail of the wolf’s head on his arm.

  He was officially a member of the Savage Brotherhood now. Typhoon had had a ceremony and everything. At the ceremony, Stewart had pulled out an old ring he’d gotten from a pawn shop—legally—and got to one knee before her. When he asked her to marry him, there had been no other answer than yes.

  Stewart would be getting a rose to match hers on their next visit. And in a year or two, they would be married. Frieda would have preferred to elope right away, but Roxy had flat-out threatened to kill her if she stole her littlest brother’s wedding away from her, so Frieda had relented to the big white wedding.

  Her mate and fiancé cast an appreciative glance down her body, and she gave him the same look right back. He’d changed, physically, since he became a shifter. While he had always been tall and strong, there was a fine-tuning of his muscular frame that was subtle yet made a huge difference. Or maybe it was just that he held himself with more confidence now.

  In any case, it was all she could do not to thro
w herself at him right then, in front of everybody.

  His artist wiped up the bit of blood from around the tattoo and started the final process of covering it for the duration of healing. It’d be perfectly fine by the time they got back to her place, but the artists didn’t know that.

  Stewart inspected her new tat as her artist finished up as well. “It suits you. All the colors of the northern lights in a rose. Beautiful. Elegant. Just like you.”

  Frieda couldn’t help but blush at that. It seemed a little ridiculous to her that she got so embarrassed by the smallest of things these days, but only when it came to Stewart. She had never had a real relationship before… not like this. Of course, she was prone to thinking that nobody had ever had a relationship like this before. It was the most wonderful thing she had ever experienced…

  When her tattoo was done, they jumped onto her bike and headed to her place. She loved the feeling of his arms around her waist as she dodged through traffic, getting a special thrill every time some idiot thought she was hogging the road and purposefully got too close—only for her to leave them in the dust. Stewart’s hot breath was on the back of her neck, making her core tighten and her skin tingle. She already knew exactly what she wanted to do with him once they were back at her place.

  Stewart had more or less moved in with her. It hadn’t been something that they’d really talked about so much as it just sort of happened. Between their need for privacy and Daniel now living at Stewart’s apartment, the alternatives were alleys, hotels or just out in the forest. Admittedly, they had done that a few times—and once were almost caught by Brad Duster, who still seemed to have it out for her. Not that she cared as much these days. He kept his distance with the important things and just seemed to have a personal grudge against her. She was going to invite him to the wedding just for kicks.