Captiva Captive (6 page)

Kash shoved his fists in his leather duster. “Put
that
on a Christmas card.”

“It’s probably been done to death already.” He looked at the stars while he was trying to figure out the best way to ask, so he chose the direct approach. “Anyway, tell me what you know or I’ll get it out of you one way or another.”

“Okay.” Kash grabbed both his shoulders, maybe to settle him down or to keep him from beating him senseless after hearing what came next. “I’ve watched Blythe from a distance, listened in on chatter when I could.” He took in a deep breath.  “Her brother brought her to the states five or six months ago.  Supposedly, he’s sick with cancer and wanted to come back home to recoup or die.  I haven’t a clue which.” He threw up a hand as if he didn’t care one way or the other. “In any case, Maestru checked out the situation…I guess out of respect for you.”

Sixten’s bark of laughter surprised them both.  “Sorry, go on.”

“He’s suspicious that she has inherent, immortal genetics.  I don’t want to get your hopes up, but she might not be totally human.”

All at once, a thousand disturbing thoughts pummeled Sixten’s head. “Say that again.”

Kash stepped back a few feet and cleared his throat. “Maybe…the barest of immortal blood…he can’t place her scent.”“No.  You’re wrong.” He blinked a few times. “Although I never fed from her, I would know if she were anything other than human.”  Even Sixten heard the waver in his voice.  

“Level with me, Six.  In all your days, have you ever discovered a human with mixed blood from something other than Habaline or Were descent?”

“No.  I can’t say that I have.”  He knew Habalines because he was one, and the Were mixed-bloods were easy to sniff out.  All vampires could smell their nasty stench miles away. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kash answered sardonically, “maybe it’s because you look like you wanna tear out my esophagus with your fangs…but I won’t take it personally.  Kill the messenger and all that, right?”

“Right,” he shot back, “I’m gonna kill you for giving me information that Maestru would have withheld until my dying breath.”

“Well, you shouldn’t get so pissed off if you don’t like my intel.  Take all that hostility and do something about it if you want her back.  Damn you,” he snarled, throwing his head back and inhaling deeply, “my Species is coming out to meet your challenge.”

Baring his fangs was a clear challenge, though Sixten didn’t realize he was doing it at the time.  He watched Kash’s cheekbones sharpen as his irises lit up.  His friend’s muscles rippled with the insane supremacy only possessed by a Vampyr Vojak.  A fight really sounded good about now, but Sixten didn’t have the time.  “I have to go back to her, man.  Head yourself off, and I will do the same.”  He retracted his fangs and threw his hands out in mock surrender.

“It’s so good seeing you boys get along.” Maestru misted in.  He was ancient, but he didn’t look any older than Kash and Sixten.  For all appearances, vampires were frozen in time, around the age of twenty-eight or so - thirty max.  “We are family in our own way, yes?”

“That depends on you,” Sixten susurrated.  “I have to ask.  What
exactly
are you doing with Blythe?”

“Your arrogance is getting the better of you, Six.” Maestru’s eyes glittered. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

“Then let me amend my question.” He stepped forward until they were nose-to-nose.  Maestru sought out Blythe for one reason alone. “Where do you get off using my female to get to me?”

“Six,” Maestru said much too easily, “the last I checked, she wasn’t yours.”

Chapter 5

“
L
isten, you know a lot more about this marking your territory business than I do.  But still,” Renee continued in a conspiratorial whisper while pointing a blue fingernail somewhere near her husband’s face, “I don’t think Scoopy is the kind of cat that would pee on all four tires.  Even if he did, maybe he was covering up the stench of another furry little deviant that slipped by the property unnoticed.”

    “He also took a shit on the hood.”

    “That’s just hearsay.”

    “I hosed it off myself.” Dr. Dru Holt pulled off the eyeglasses that he didn’t actually need and checked his watch.  The morning was flying by and he had wall-to-wall patients lining the clinic.  “I waited for that Bugatti for six months, sweetheart.  Now I’m living a daily episode of Animals Gone Wild and there seems to be a ratings war.  Irrefutably, Scoopy is using my dream car as his personal latrine.  But that clearly doesn’t damage its paintjob any more than your Pitt Bull that chews its fender.” He took the edge of his lab coat and focused on cleaning his lenses.

“Puppies do that when they teethe.” She smiled brightly.

“My sweet wife, contrary to what you believe, that
dog
has to be at least six years old.”  Before she came up with another absurd excuse, he confronted her about their newest freeloader. “And to clarify any misunderstanding, the only other furry deviant that you
think
has slipped by unnoticed is the seventh cat that you smuggled into the manse around two weeks ago.  There is treatment available for pet hoarders. I’m checking into it.”

“Someone has to have some compassion around here.” She pressed her palms over her heart.  “No one would adopt Buttercup.  The shelter gave him top billing on their website for months.  The cat couldn’t catch a break.  He was going
down
, Dru.”

“With good reason,” he snapped, refusing to remind her of
his
compassionate attributes as a volunteer physician for the poor and success as a worldwide philanthropist…for centuries.  “I think Buttercup is the pint-sized devil that left a turd inside the toe of my Versace hi-tops.”

“Can’t you wear
Nikes
like everybody else?”

“Like it would have made a difference,” he replied calmly.  “It wasn’t even dry before I slammed my foot in my shoe. Common courtesy seems to have slipped Buttercup’s mind.”

“Really,” she pleaded almost desperately, “what’s a little poop among family?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, taking in her flowing, white halter dress.  She was a throwback as Marilyn Monroe in
The Seven Year Itch
.  But her raven hair curved over her shoulders like a naughty, ebony shawl.  He twirled his finger around a lock of her silky hair and gave it a diminutive yank.  “I’m thinking we need a vacation, minus the critters.”

“You don’t mean Bane and Arian do you?” She spoke of their werewolf co-mates.

“No,” Dru said, brushing her lips with his reply, “just the ones with actual fur that weigh less than two hundred and fifty pounds.”

“Before you leave on that vacation,” a deep voice cut in, “could I talk to you?”

“Ryan!” Renee twirled and gave him a hug despite Dru’s low hiss.  Vampires were exceedingly territorial and Ryan was a Species the same as Dru. 

“I miss seeing you at Six Feet Under,” Ryan claimed, quickly stepping back from her.

“I doubt that,” she laughed freely.  “I was the worst waitress you ever had.”

“You sure were.” He laughed right along with her. “But when your Granny brought her friends in, none of the patrons complained about my overpriced cover charge.”

“Yeah, floor shows by Granny and friends, who knew?” She patted Dru on the cheek. “Speaking of Granny, I have to pick her up and bring her out to the island.  She’s weekending with us.”

“What!” Dru’s head nearly imploded.

“Gotcha.” Renee smiled sweetly before kissing the tip of her husband’s nose.  “But that’s what can happen if I find Buttercup missing.”

Dru ran a weary hand through his hair.  “Message received. Drive carefully, sweetheart.”  He watched her leave, lingering on the sway of her hips, and then motioned for Ryan to meet him in his makeshift office.

“It’s nice what you’re doing for the community,” Ryan leaned against a peeling gray wall and crossed his tattooed arms over his chest. 

“I care about the humans,” Dru said after he closed the door.

“I know…speaking of which.”

“In the human world, I don’t give out patient information without consent,” Dru explained, “but I saw your mark on Blythe’s throat and we’re far from mortal.”

Ryan barely took a weekly swallow from Blythe to maintain the façade they were lovers, and she was his property.  Only enough to retain her blood in his body and keep his mark fresh, which forced him to feed from others.  What he couldn’t understand was how she was so sick when he didn’t taste any identifiable diseases. “What’s up with the anemia?”

“That’s just it.” Dru pulled out Blythe’s slide and licked the blood smear for analysis instead of placing it under the microscope.  “I can only theorize, assuming you’re not gorging.”

“I already told you that was not the case.”

“I have to admit that I only found the faintest mark on her throat, and you’ve left the rest of her body untouched.” He met his eyes.  “I believe you, man.  I really do.”

“Then” - Ryan was nonplussed - “if you can’t figure it out, who can?”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t figure it out.”  Dru kept Blythe’s blood on his tongue, rolling it around while he was thinking.  “I’m curious as to how you keep from overdrinking when she tastes like this?”

“I love her.”

Dru’s eyes ran over him slowly, making Ryan aware of the fact that he knew the truth and the corresponding lie. “She’s not truly yours. Your Bride, I mean.”

“I’m mindful of that,” he replied uneasily.

Dru moved away from him to the sink and washed his hands.  Slashes of afternoon sun were coming through the filmy windows, casting dust motes in their light.  “Blood pets are frowned upon in this era, whether you fancy yourself in love or not.  You’re treating her as property.  I know it isn’t illegal, but still.  Others can be…intolerable.”

“She’s not
that
to me.”  Ryan couldn’t tell him the truth.  An order was an order, go against Maestru and he would die slowly and painfully.  Vampires didn’t kill one of their own quickly, they had no mercy for traitors.

“Either way, you’re selfish.” Dru waited for him to deny it while settling on the edge of his desk.  When Ryan didn’t, he said, “I understand you’re only in your twenties, and I have centuries on you.  But this advice comes from pure experience and not from an older Species trying to be an arrogant, know-it-all jackass.  I only met my Bride this year -”

 Ryan interrupted, “How many of us ever will?”  Then he dropped his keys, a very un-vampire thing to do that surprised them both.  He bent over to snatch them up off the floor just when Dru slammed the final blow home.

“
When
you meet your Bride, and the earth actually moves just for you two, where does that leave the sweet woman I admitted for a blood transfusion?”

Ryan wanted to say something unforgivable to the good doctor.  But how could he, when he was so blatantly hit with the truth?   And he hadn’t forgotten that tiny lecture he’d given Dakota the night before about Rock.  As a werewolf, Rock would find his mate one day, and it wouldn’t be her.  But Rock had more inherent decency with Dakota than Ryan did with his long-time friend, Blythe.  He reluctantly told a half-truth, “I marked her, because, for some strange reason, she always has the Undead or even Species swarming around her.  I don’t want someone else drinking from her…using her, and she hasn’t anywhere to live that she can afford besides my place.”

“She mentioned her brother had cancer,” Dru pried.

Ryan’s gaze dropped to the keys clenched in his fist, and his heart began to pound.  Blythe knew nothing of their world and didn’t understand she was in the crosshairs of their Coven Master.  Her doctor sure couldn’t find out.  “Yeah, I haven’t seen Anthony lately, but I’ve been knee-deep opening INKS.”  He kept his eyes fixed on the keys.  “Exactly how long is this transfusion gonna take?  They wouldn’t let me stay in the room with Blythe, and I sure don’t want her waiting.”

Dru glanced at his watch.  “She started around nine…it’s a quarter past one.  I have a Species working on her.  Discretion is her specialty, and I donated my own blood to blend in with the units from the hospital.”

“You’re giving her Species blood?”

“I’ve done it many times. I’ve been a doctor for more than two hundred years, Ryan.”  His eyes were sharp when he promised, “She’ll recover fully in a few days from my blood alone.  Will probably stay that way for a while if she eats better and takes her prescribed vitamins, they’re stronger than what’s on the drugstore shelves.” Dru looked like he wanted to say more, something he found profound but pushed it down.  “Head back over to the hospital, she should be ready.”

“Thanks for everything, Dru.” He felt fear for Blythe gnawing in his gut. “I’ll get her prescription filled and stock her fridge for her.”

“Let me know if she needs any financial help.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

“It’s normal for her not to have an appetite with anemia.” Dru’s voice was quiet. “So, I’m expecting you to encourage her to eat and for
you
to eat elsewhere.” 

Ryan’s fingers tightened around the keys.  If the Coven Master knew she wasn’t thriving, he’d put her in someone else’s care.  “Yeah, well, an anemic human really isn’t a nutritious meal,” he whipped out sarcastically and regretted it immediately. “No problem.”

Dru didn’t take offense, but still said, “It would be easier on you to let her go sooner, rather than later.  Especially if she belongs to someone else,” he added cryptically.

Ryan released one extraordinarily long breath.

“Ryan, I’m not a Vampyr Lovec. In fact, I wouldn’t recognize a hunter if it bit me on the ass.  But like I said earlier, I’ve been around for centuries and that kind of leaves me out of the stupid category. Considering Blythe’s incredible flavor and her unexplainable anemia, I could easily label her a claimed Donor in need of a blood exchange with her Dynasty Vampyr.”

Ryan sucked in a painful breath.  Maestru was leaving some serious shit out of their conversations.

  Dru continued, “I could also easily understand that Donors are an unfathomable delectation commoners rarely want to give back to the Dynasty when discovered.  But if that’s what she is, then there’s no messing with that kind of birthright.” He stared out the window. “Rumors say the Donors have their memories tampered with repeatedly or they’re kept mentally intact while remaining in gilded cages. Obviously, her memory has been tampered with since she’s under your care and not in the preverbal, gilded cage.” He sighed as if he didn’t want to go on, but knew he had to. “If what I’m theorizing is true, and she’s been away from a Dynasty Vampyr for at least the six months she’s been in America, surely she’s being hunted.  Taking all that into consideration, answer this hypothetical question:  How do
you
go about protecting someone of her rare importance, if others were to find out what she truly is?”