Oycher (10 page)

Dax inclined his head. “Commander.”

Oycher crossed his arms over the weapon-laden duster that replaced his cloak. “Let’s get on with this, Alpha.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Dax agreed. “I’ve been assigned as your liaison for bridging Donors between the North American Pack and the Dynasty Empire.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a liaison yet.” When he shifted, he caught another whiff of his Bride. Maybe, from the Territorial Alpha? His fangs pulsated at once.

Leaning back in his chair, Dax said, “My brother deemed it so.”

Oycher pointed out, “Unfortunately, at this time, Prince Volos isn’t receptive to anything regarding disclosure of Donors to werewolves.”

“We have ways of making him receptive.”

“We all have our ways,” he countered wearily. “But when I first approached Jayce Jordan with my plan months ago, his immediate promise was not to threaten his way through due process.” Oycher never wanted to stop Dynasty Vampyrs from feeding on the only food source they had available, but he wanted to stop imprisonments and abuse of Donors. “We haven’t quite begun and you’re going all…Alpha on me.”

“Okay.” Dax held up his hands. “Tell me what, if any, progress you’ve made.”

“I’ve attended Volos’ court,” Oycher explained. “I’ve persuaded him to allow Donors of Youngling age, twenty-four and under, to attend Academy classes and to live outside the miasma in North America. Our prince has also given the go-ahead for Covens outside of North America to do the same, provided the respective Coven Masters agree.” Dax looked as shocked as he was after Volos had relented.

“If the Coven Masters allow,” Dax said a second later, his eyes flashing his Beast, “but not Alphas?”

gAfter a slow nod, Oycher elaborated, “He’ll allow his Donors to attend our vampire schools, not your werewolf schools. But this is a positive step in the direction all of us sitting here want to take. We’ll build from this.”

Dax’s hands went flat on the table, always a bad sign with Alphas. “We want all of our mixed bloods out of Dynasty monarchies, every damn one from here to Beijing. We agreed to work an exchange release, as you originally suggested. Any mixed bloods sent from your monarchy and placed under Jayce’s protection, where they can mate if they want, will, in return, spend a certain amount of time donating,” he stopped and took a breath, “or should I say feeding, selected Dynasty Vampyrs. With new births, Donor numbers will grow within Pack. When they reach adulthood, they can participate in the exchange to keep up relations. It’s a win-win for your kind, particularly if you keep those flying bastards from plucking our mixed bloods off the streets.”

Not said aloud, Pack was going to start killing Lovci, the hunters. Werewolves were a dying race. Oycher understood this. Their species needed their numbers. “Volos knows what you want.” Even so, Oycher didn’t care about the werewolves dwindling numbers, but he did care strongly to end the suffering of many innocents who were under Dynasty subjugation. “Threats aside, our prince wanted to know what he’s getting out of the deal. His words, not mine. Since Jayce hasn’t agreed to all aspects of my plan, I wasn’t at liberty to promise anything on Pack’s behalf.”

“By my directives, my Florida territory will work with selected members of your security, ones you personally choose,” Dax qualified, “to pursue and prosecute those immortals capturing Donors for black market street sales.” Nods came from the other three werewolves.

Beneath the streets, vials of addictive Donor blood sold for small fortunes. And if any richer-than-Midas vamps offered the right amount to tap Donors’ veins directly, they arranged for private parties. The Vojaks had never received the resources to fight this ungodly war. Now, the werewolves were offering to foot the bill and donate manpower. “This would be perfect, if Volos would release a Donor to train and use as bait. I doubt he’ll risk one, even for the cause of protecting others. What else can you offer?”

“That offer’s still on the table,” Dax said, drumming his knuckles across the wood. “We’re going to outhunt the Lovci. Currently we’re searching high and low for unclaimed Donors. We’ll find a male, hopefully mixed with werewolf or shifter, and we’ll train him. We will succeed.”

Oycher raised a brow, shaking his head until his beads clattered like pebbles hitting the ground. “For Volos to go along with it, that unclaimed male Donor would still be fed from.” He caught another whiff of his Bride, and thought he was going to die on the spot if he didn’t touch her. “And that wouldn’t be a fair position to offer any man you’ve plucked off the streets.”

“Now, wait a minute.”

“What would you say, Alpha?” Oycher challenged. “Here, little human, drop into the belly of hell and dangle your delectable veins. Try not to die. By the way, when you’re finished, we need you up in the clouds. The prince of vampires is thirsty and has called for takeout.”

Dax flared his nostrils. “Not all warriors are Vojaks, Alphas, or Betas. Humans are known to surprise us on occasions. They’re still here among us, aren’t they?”

Oycher countered, “Because we allow it.” Learning the power of restraint surpassed all other skills taught to Younglings and newly Undead. Accepted teaching philosophy stated ‘just because you could almost never means you should’.

“Commander, I would consider just about anything to free those under Volos’ so-called protection. Many Donors are hanging on chains in dungeons. You said so yourself. That knowledge isn’t sitting too well with me.” Dax curled his lip. “Back to our offer, as precious as one life is, our Donor will be protected by so many Pack males, no underworld vamp will ever come near him close enough to touch even a hair on his head.”

With assistance from one of Oycher’s teams, he believed the Alpha, yet his heart was still weighed down with reluctance. “Very well,” he said slowly, “I’ll present this to Volos.” Her scent grew stronger, waking Oycher’s cock. “See if he bites.”

“Speaking of bites,” Flynn said with marked disgust. “What’s your intel on those murders? Our sources tell us it’s a crazed Master Gryph on the loose.”

Oycher dropped his arms, fisting his hands on the table. “Your sources are on the money. Did you identify the dead female I found?”

Flynn shook his head. “Still working on it.”

“The monarchy will be contacting your office,” Oycher explained. “They want to examine her.”

Flynn gave him a hard look. “Fine. And that stench on the bodies, the weird bites, what’s the word?”

If only someone else would break it to them. “Hounds of Cyn.”

Dax growled. “What the fuck? They’re extinct!”

“Not exactly.” Oycher recounted what Fedor and Volos had reported, leaving out the identities of all fallen vampires considered mercenaries.

“We’re stopping this,” Dax insisted, “starting tonight.”

Oycher agreed, but they needed to discuss turf. “If we divide regions, we can hunt in half the time, reporting our findings and hopefully producing kills.” This was better than joint field efforts. Joint Faction teams were rarely used. It was difficult for either a vampire or a werewolf to take orders from the other.

Flynn agreed, “I’ll have my office contact Sage. We can divvy up turf and head out tonight.”

“Before we adjourn,” Dax said, “I have a Pack female who’s already accustomed to feeding many of your Dynasty Vampyrs, enough to last for a lifetime. She’s tentatively agreed to help acclimate incoming Donors. Since she’s successfully recovered herself from a multitude of horrible experiences, she’ll give others hope, teach them strength through experience and also how to settle into Pack. Problem is - Dr. Dru Holt’s a vamp, he’s going to be working closely on the project. And many of the Donors are supposedly mixed with vamp blood, some even sporting fangs. So she needs to feel accustomed, sort of speak, to spending time with vampires again without… freaking out.”

Oycher’s throat tightened, his fangs pulsating again. Oh, this was bad, so very bad. “Her background?”

“I’m sure you recall us pressing your office regarding her capture.” Dax’s eyes flickered with the Beast. “She was tortured by Habalines, first. Then, sold to the highest bidder inside your Italian monarchy. Isladora Harris, she goes by Isla.”

“Sounds familiar.” Oycher’s fangs slid down, couldn’t stop them. “I’m assuming you have her…hidden.” The B-positive he’d enjoyed after leaving the Dynasty miasma chose that moment to climb back up his throat.

Dax raised an indignant brow. “Yes,” he said with all sorts of sarcasm. “I figured you’d have some other vamps with you today, though.”

“To…help her become comfortable?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do it?” Dax couldn’t appear more skeptical, if he’d tried. “You have time to work with her? No offense, Vojak, and not like I care, either, but you look like you’re running on empty.”

“Not your problem, if I feel like shit.”

“Well, it is, Vojak,” Dax threatened. “Because, if you’re impatient with her, I’ll kill you. And then I would have up and started another war.”

“I assure you, wars won’t be started today.” He put both feet flat on the floor. “Where exactly is she?”

Flynn Ruyter spoke up. “Here in a training room.”

His mind snapped and his body followed. Oycher jumped up, glided to a side door, and gripped the doorknob before his next breath. Dax’s hand came down on his shoulder, an unwise move. “Hands off, Beast!”

The Alpha bared his canines, yet he dropped his hand. “I said, Isla’s freaked out,” he emphasized. “Look at you.” The bolts in the door jam were creaking with strain.

Oycher released the knob. “I won’t add to her…discomfort.”

“No, you won’t.” Dax waved a big finger in his face. “She’s had enough, and just this morning, Isla discovered she has a mate.”

His heart accelerated. “A…werewolf mate?”

“You’ve worked with him on some Joint Faction projects.” Dax elaborated, “Terje Arud, Bane Ruyter’s brother by mating. He’ll want to be there when you work with her.”

“So, just this morning, Terje discovered her?” By scent of her arousal, Oycher realized. How had he made such an elementary mistake? “In the middle of this all male complex?”

“You motherfucker!” Dax slammed his hand across Oycher’s throat, wrapping his fingers nice and tight. “That was you I smelled beneath that cloaking spell in her room?”

Oycher hissed. “If you call that protecting her, you have no idea what you’re doing. The monarchy is looking for Isladora. So when they arrive to identify that dead mixed blood, remind all involved to keep their mouths closed. Get Terje in here. We need to have a chat before I approach her.” He kicked away from Dax’s hold, fighting his urge to pull out a blade and gut him. “I have just as much of a say in Isladora’s life as the Norwegian does.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“You’re…” Dax blinked, realization dawning. “Oh, hell, you have no idea how long it took to settle her down after this morning’s marina-side fiasco.” He pulled out his phone, making the call. “I know Terje was on his way back to train the Alpha bloods and bring Isla some new clothes.” He shook his head. “When she gets a load of you, bloodsucker, Isladora’s going to run.”

“Well, then, it’s a good thing I can catch her.”

She glanced at the clock. Terje had finally shown up over an hour ago, and they hadn’t stopped sparring or whatever it was called, since he’d arrived with bags of clothes and shoes, a multitude of apologies, and a fairly reasonable explanation as to why Dax and Flynn had barged in on them and had stayed put inside the cabana, no matter how loud she’d screamed. This hadn’t been the hardest day of her life, far from it, but it sure was the most embarrassing. Therefore, working toward a goal was a welcome distraction.

Or so she’d thought.

Isla found it hard to concentrate for several reasons. One, with each touch, Terje made her hornier. Two, the tension of his Beast coiled and released with every move he made. Three, Flynn was lurking in the corridor, waiting to yank Terje’s werewolf back if necessary. And finally, “There’s a vampire outside the door.” She’d felt his presence even before Terje had entered the training room. And, oh, what a presence he had. Power, nothing but raw, frightening power radiated from him.

He looked down at her. “You can sense more than Gryphs and Lovci, then, that’s good.”

“I can sense most leeches, especially males,” she explained and his blonde brows raised a tad apprehensively. “Don’t worry. Dax warned me when he first brought up helping the incoming Donors. Some are mixed with various races of vampires, so I understand that I need to…get comfortable with their kind. Especially if they’re fanged, you know? I don’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable about who or what they are…” But she’d been considered food, had been dined on by a multitude of fangs day and night.

Terje flashed his teeth. “You don’t have to do anything. At all.”

“Right,” Isla agreed. “But Dax thinks I can pull this off and so do I.”

“I have a low threshold for scooping you up and hauling you to my homeland. Kicking and screaming, if I have to.” He brushed the underside of her jaw with a careful fingertip.

The movement echoed in her womb, cranking her up all over again. “I think this challenge, for lack of a better word, is the only way I’m going to heal. You know, face your fears and all that.”