Powerful Awakening [L.U.S.T. 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (9 page)

“One, Andrew brought Chrystal here for protection.” Gideon ticked off points on his fingers. “Two, Nikolas’s pack is after him and, if they find out about her, they won’t stop at using her to get to Andrew. Three, Andrew is yours just as Rebecca or Chrystal or whatever name she’s going by in this life is yours. Which leads us to number four. It doesn’t matter if Nikolas’s pack has anything to do with whatever the SD is looking to hire us for or not, if Nikolas is coming after Andrew, we will end up in battle with him anyway.”

* * * *

“Have you talked to him yet?”

Hmm, depends on your definition of talk, Daddy.

Chrystal threw herself back on the bed in her Presidential suite and stared at the ceiling, grateful her father couldn’t read minds through the cellular phone waves. Not that he possessed the ability to read them in person either but, if she were standing in front of him right now, she didn’t doubt he would see right through her. His power to do that had nothing to do with anything relating to their kind and everything to do with a father who knew his daughter likely better than she knew herself.

“I’m going to tonight.” She couldn’t wait any longer. Tonight was cleansing time. She’d spill the dirt, confess everything, and pray for the best. Though she didn’t intend on being the only one dishing out the truth. They’d agreed to table the conversation last night. They’d…made love? Fucked? Had sex? All of the above?

Chrystal rolled onto her belly, propping her upper body on her elbow as she held the cell phone to her ear, and gave up on defining what had happened between them last night. Either way it went, she’d awoke in his suite, in his bed, cuddled against the solid, warm wall of his body at a little before noon and hadn’t wanted to talk.

On the other end of the line, her father sighed. “I shouldn’t have sent you to handle this. I should have talked to him myself. He’s a good man with an open mind. I could see that. Even if I had to tell him everything about us, I believe he still would have helped us. I had no right attempting to deceive him by using you as bait.”

Chrystal smiled, though she knew her father couldn’t see it. “You didn’t use me as bait, Daddy. You had your reservations. I volunteered to feel him out.”
Bad choice of words.
“I
wanted
to do h—it.” She slammed her free hand over her mouth to muffle the giggle that bubbled out and closed her eyes. Shit, she’d nearly said she wanted to do
him
. What a way to break her budding relationship, if that’s what it was, with Andrew to her father.

“You’re attracted to him.” Her father didn’t ask. He told her in that all-knowing fatherly tone he had that told her, even when she wasn’t standing right in front of him, he could still see straight through her.

“Well, duh. I saw the image of him on the security footage from the camera in your office. You knew I thought he was hot.” She gnawed her bottom lip, trying to prevent herself from going on, but failed as she always did in conversations with her father. She’d never been able to hide anything from him. “I feel something with him, Daddy. It’s…power. We aren’t supposed to be able to feel the power of another being.”

“Are you saying he isn’t human, Chrysie? By the Gods, if he finds out what you are and he isn’t what we think he is, you could be in grave danger.”

“Dad, slow down. To anyone else, that sentence wouldn’t have made a lick of sense.” Which told her just how much she’d rattled him with her honesty. Her father didn’t get rattled. Yet, he’d been totally and understandably distraught since her cousin came up missing. She didn’t need to be giving him anything more to stress over right now.

“Come home, Chrysie. Forget the plan, forget asking this man for help, and come home. We’ll find another way to save your cousin.”

“She’s been gone for nearly a week,” Chrystal reminded him. “There’s no telling what’s been done to her already.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
Way to go, dumbass. Talk about not giving him something more to stress over.
“We don’t have time to come up with another plan. Besides, I still believe, as you did from the start, that he’s our best chance at finding Calista.”

“I’m not going to sacrifice my only daughter to save…”

“A girl whom you love just as much as me?” Chrystal finished for him. Like most of their kind, Calista’s parents had been slain decades ago. It hadn’t mattered that it had been their own carelessness that had led to their demise. Her father had grieved for his sister and her husband and had sworn to protect his niece until his dying breath. “Calista is as much your daughter now as I am, Dad, and you aren’t sacrificing either of us.”

“If Andrew isn’t human, then what is he?”

Chrystal’s lids burned as she lied to her father for the first time in her life. “I’m not sure yet. I know what I feel with him is an energy not shared by humans, but it feels…”
Ancient, exotic, potent, and, Gods, Daddy, I think it’s love.

Her eyes flew open at the thought. No. No frigging way could she be in love with him already. She’d just met the man, for Pete’s sake.

“I can’t quite put my finger on it,” she continued to lie, tasting every bitter word and convincing herself it was for the best. “I’ve met someone else here in Atlanta, too. He’s an old friend of Andrew’s.”
Possibly an old lover.

She didn’t add the last aloud but, every time she thought back to last night and Michael, she remembered how he and Andrew had looked at one another, how they hadn’t seemed to mind at all dancing with her together. There was definitely a history between them that stretched far longer and way deeper than mere friendship.

“His name is Michael Delacroix. He owns a club here. Club Lust. Andrew is taking me back there within the hour.”

“Chrystal.”

The way her father said her name, slowly, his tone full of warning, and actually used her first name rather than calling her Chrysie as he always did, had her rolling back over to sit up in the center of the bed. “Daddy?”

“Michael Delacroix is a vampire.”

Well, now. That explained a whole hell of a lot. She remembered looking into his eyes on the dance floor, hearing his voice in her mind though she hadn’t seen his lips move, and the energy she’d felt when she’d been in his arms. It had been the same with Andrew, only lacking what she now knew to be the power of the lycan in Andrew.

Because Michael’s is the power of a vampire.

“Would that be a good vamp or a bad one?” Were there any
good
vampires? Unlike lycans who could live primarily the same way they did as humans, vampires required blood to keep their organs pumping.

Her father’s breath filled the cellular connection as he sighed. “I’m not sure how to answer that. I know very little about him, but I have heard he and his brother, Gideon, who is a werewolf, by the way, operate some sort of, what they call, special talent agency.”

Chrystal opened and closed her mouth like a guppy for a moment before she dared to ask, “You mean they’re talent agents as in movie stars and singers and stuff?”

Her father actually laughed. It was a good sound to hear, even if it was at her expense. “No, sweetheart. I mean special talents as in powers. This agency they have is made up of shifters, skinwalkers, realm jumpers, and others with various abilities. They operate in secret from the human population.”

Chrystal drew her brows together, still confused. “Operate doing what?”

“Assignments for the government. Keeping the unruly beings in line. They call it the LUST agency.”

“And Club Lust must be their cover,” Chrystal concluded.
What a brilliant idea.
“What does the acronym stand for?”

“I don’t know exactly. I…” Her father trailed off and she could envision him sitting on the sofa with his forehead in his hand just by the tone his voice took. “I don’t even know if any of that is true or not. It could be hogwash for all I know. Your aunt is the one who told me about them, about this Michael Delacroix and his brother Gideon, several years before her death. I haven’t talked to any other being of power aside from our own kind since long before that. We never know who we can trust and who we can’t.”

“But, if we can trust Michael, if he is what Aunt Zaiden said he is, he will know even better than Andrew how to find Calista.”

* * * *

“Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Delacroix.” Jefferson Bond, the reigning Secretary of Defense for the United States Government, walked straight to Michael’s desk and extended a hand.

Michael pushed to his feet, graciously taking the man’s hand and meeting his gaze with a steady one of his own. Though the secretary appeared to be the perfect picture of calm, cool collection, Michael knew better. He heard the blood pumping furiously through the man’s veins, smelled the fear seeping out of his pores, and saw the disgust deep in the man’s eyes.

“Call me Michael, Mr. Secretary.” Michael shifted his attention over the man’s narrow shoulder and noted the two plainclothes men the secretary had brought with him had taken up posts on either side of the door. DoD agents, both human and packing M-9 pistols in shoulder holsters beneath their coats. The stocky one on the left reeked of fear. The taller, more robust one on the right, however, put the secretary’s CCC act to shame. Michael didn’t sense any power in that man, nor did he detect an ounce of alarm. It was definitely something he found deserving of his admiration. “I hope you do not mind if my brother, Gideon, sits in on our meeting. We run the agency together, as I am sure you know.”

“It’s nice to meet you, SD.” Gideon slapped the man on the back as he pivoted at the corner of the desk and took his usual spot with one thigh resting on the edge, keeping his other booted foot on the floor.

The secretary released Michael’s hand, sliced a glare at Gideon, and gulped visibly. “I believe we can be on first-name bases all around. It’s Jefferson, please.”

Michael gestured to the chair in front of his desk with a flourish of his hand. “Please, have a seat.” He lowered himself into his chair as the secretary made himself appear comfortable opposite him. “What can we do for you, Jefferson?”

Jefferson’s narrow shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “It’s come to our attention that we have a potential cre—” He slammed his lips closed, but his gaze didn’t waver from Michael’s.

“Creature?” Michael supplied.

“Yes, well, that’s the word I was about to use, but…”

Michael nodded once. “Then it will do for now.” He knew how most of the members of the government thought of those who possessed inhuman abilities. He also knew their perception wasn’t always wrong. There were plenty of beings inhabiting the plant and other realms who thrived on the suffering of humans rather than working to protect them.

“My office has received tips of a terrorist operating out of Venezuela,” Jefferson began again, obviously deciding to take a different tact. “Near Caracas, to be more precise.”

“Venezuela’s had a beef with the U.S. for a while now, but they haven’t posed themselves to be a real threat,” Gideon pointed out.

Jefferson glanced at Gideon, but almost immediately returned his attention to Michael. “They haven’t yet, no. However, this terrorist is in the business of capturing…
people
of your kind on American soil and transporting them to Caracas.”

Gideon had flattened a hand on the top of the desk, supporting some of his weight. That arm stiffened now at the news. “Are you talking creature trafficking?”

Jefferson shook his head. “Not trafficking. These terrorists are not looking to sell these creatures to the highest bidder. It appears they are intending more to build some sort of an army with them, a force to use to attack the US.”

Gideon’s booted foot hit the floor as he pushed himself to his feet. “Despite what those who know of our kind believe, we aren’t out to kill the human race. They can take all the shifters they want but, if that shifter doesn’t want to be part of that army, he isn’t going to fight for them.”

“In his human form, maybe not,” Jefferson argued. “However, correct me if I’m wrong. Doesn’t a shifter, as you called him, lose control when he…” The man waved a hand in the air as if searching for the right word.

“Changes?” Michael supplied.

Jefferson dropped his hand. “Yes.”

“It depends on the shifter,” Gideon answered, hooking his thumbs in the front pockets of his leather pants. “Many of us have learned total control over the vast years we’ve been alive. Even in our beast form, we have learned to think and carry on with a certain level of our human consciousness.”

Michael eased back in his chair, keeping his hands flat on the top of the desk. “If these terrorists have found a way to keep the shifter in his beast form, it is more likely that shifter will lose that level of consciousness after a time, dear brother.” He turned his attention back to the secretary. “Gideon is right to a point, Jefferson. It does depend on the shifter. It saddens me to say that there are some of our kind, even in our country, who do not stand by the same principles as we do or as those of the United States. Most who feel that way would not have needed to be kidnapped to join the terrorist’s fight. However, of those who have been taken, it is possible some could be persuaded. Others will fight against it, but they may lose their battle.”

Jefferson’s beady eyes narrowed. “And neither of you know anything about who may be behind this?”

Michael held the man’s gaze. “I assure you, we do not.” He didn’t reveal his suspicions about Nikolas McLeod, deciding the secretary didn’t need to be privy to that information. “The LUST Agency is not sanctioned by our government. There are many who work above, below, and beside you who feel all of our kind should be extinguished. We understand the fear, though it is largely unwarranted. It does not affect our principles or our loyalty to our country. You and your people call upon us when you need our help to neutralize a threat of our kind. We are always there and we will continue to be.”