Rebel Obsession (18 page)

“What? Another OD?”

“Yeah. She was unconscious when we got to her.”

Looked like King Bain had bigger problems he needed to worry about than whether or not Io had dipped his wick and stolen Miriam’s chastity. Miriam was turning into an outright junkie, and yet the king was more concerned with where she slept than getting her off the shit.

To be honest, she was probably in the best place she could be right now. Io had knocked the blue shit a year ago, after a long battle with his addiction. There was no doubt in Tristan’s mind that Miriam was in capable hands to get her through her overdose and maybe even save her life. As long as Io’s capable hands didn’t wander over her body. Tristan wouldn’t take that bet, though. Not with the way Io had looked at her when she had been brought in after her first overdose, and vice versa. Miriam had been as attracted to Io as he had been to her.

Tristan felt that the worst was yet to come with this sitch. Lucky him, being Io’s commander and all.

“How did you two find out she needed help?” Tristan said. “I don’t recall seeing it dispatched on the report.” The night had been fairly quiet, as a matter of fact.

“Io got a direct call.”

“Oh?” Now, that was interesting. “From whom?”

“Miriam’s friend, Persephone. The girl who was engaged to Ari for all of an hour.” A bitter edge colored Sev’s words. Apparently he was still sore over recent events, even though he and Arion had ended up together.

“Yeah. I remember.”

“She called AKM and asked for him directly. Dispatch treated it like a personal call and texted Io.”

Tristan would need to modify the protocol for personal calls. This could have saved him some time if he had known about it sooner. “Okay, so Io got the call, and Persephone told him…?”

“She was in hysterics, but the gist was that Miriam had overdosed and Persephone thought she was dying. We found them, Io took Miriam to his place, and when I got there, he had treated her and she was sleeping.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope.”

“He wasn’t inappropriate with her?”

“No. Like I said, she was sleeping. But that was hours ago.”

In other words, anything could have happened since then. And knowing Io, it probably had.

“Okay, well, shit’s going to hit the fan. Apparently, King Bain has day walkers on his security team because Gregos just told me the king has sent security to retrieve her and arrest Io.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

Neither said anything for a second, and Tristan wondered if Severin was putting two and two together. Severin was one of two day walkers on his team, Trace being the other, but Tristan didn’t want to give him an outright order to go pull Io’s ass out of the fryer, so he sure hoped the guy would take a hint.

“What do you want me to do?” Sev finally said a few seconds later.

Tristan grinned slyly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure you don’t.”

“You’d better hurry, Sev. You don’t want to be late.”

“Maybe I’d better call Trace.”

Tristan nodded. Now Sev was thinking. “No. Just go. I’ll call Trace.”

Sev huffed. “Man, you’re gonna be in trouble.”

Right now, Tristan didn’t care. He wouldn’t lose another member of his team. “Don’t you worry about that. Now, hurry up, Sev. Get there and save our boy. I just hope we’re not too late.”

“Roger that.”

* * *

Io had Miriam tucked securely against his body. They were fast asleep when the commotion upstairs startled him to the land of the waking.

“What the fuck?”

It sounded like a whole platoon was storming through his house. He jumped out of bed and went for his gun. What time was it, for Christ’s sake? Sleep kept the clock out of focus for a second, but then the time registered. It wasn’t nightfall, yet, so whoever had invited themselves into his home was one of three things: human, dreck, or day walker. He really hoped for human, but he doubted he could be so lucky.

The door to the basement blasted open and a rush of footsteps descended.

Miriam cried out and yanked the sheets up to cover her nudity as four day walkers wearing the king’s insignia burst into the room, assault rifles drawn.

“Get down!” One of the males pointed his gun at Io. “NOW!”

Io dropped to his knees as the other three went for Miriam.

“Don’t you touch her!” The deep, possessive echo in his voice startled even him, and he realized he was breathing hard, suddenly wide-awake, with his hands curled into fists and pressed against the floor as if ready to push off and attack.

The four military-style fuckers who had invaded his home all looked at him in surprise. They had obviously caught the mated male tone of his voice just as he had.

The one guarding him stepped forward and backhanded him. “We’ll deal with you soon enough, asshole. You dare defile the king’s daughter?”

“I defiled no one.” Io’s words spat out like cobra’s venom. His body even felt coiled and ready to strike.

“We’ll see about that,” the soldier said. The barrel of his gun remained trained on Io’s forehead.

Miriam fought off the other three as they went after her again. Rage pushed up within Io. That was his female. She was his to touch, and his alone. The old saying,
Touch a vampire’s mate and you touch the mated vampire himself, so best touch lightly or not at all,
came to mind. His mating bond to Miriam fired full force. He would die for her. He would kill for her. And right now, both options looked like keen possibilities.

When one of the other males grabbed Miriam’s arm and yanked her forcibly from the bed so that the sheet fell away and her naked breasts were revealed, Io knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back from attacking. These males had no right to look upon his female’s nudity. That was his right, and his alone. Her bare breasts belonged only to his gaze. They were his to touch, his to suckle. Simply by viewing her flesh, these men were violating his natural rights as Miriam’s mate. And they had to pay for their injustice. As her mate, he had to make them pay.

“I said, don’t. Touch. Her.”

A mated male vampire was a dangerous creature. Only one entity was more dangerous, and that was a mutant: a mixed-blood vampire who had been biologically and genetically consumed by its power. You didn’t mess with the mate of a male vampire unless you didn’t mind dying.

The other four men in the room seemed to sense this, too, but they were too late. They had already fucked with what belonged to him.

With a spitting hiss that formed into a shriek, Io leaped and tackled the male in front of him, plowing his fist into the guy’s nose with such force it knocked him out. One punch. Whoomp! And the fucker was out cold.

The other three scattered and tried to train Io in their sights, but he was fast. He pounced on one of them and slammed him against the wall before rolling back and tossing him over his head. He crouched and hissed as he jumped to shield Miriam, his fangs bared.

Shit went from bad to worse as the fourth male regained consciousness and groaned as he dabbed his fingers against his shattered nose and the blood that had splattered his face. Now it was four against one. Not good odds, but almost fair being that Io was in full-on, mated male rampage.

As long as they didn’t try to come after Miriam again, things would be fine. They just had to leave Miriam alone and not try anything heroic.

He got the sense the four were communicating mind-to-mind. Not good. They were plotting. He put his arm up over Miriam and pushed her back so she was more fully behind him. No way would he let them take her. Over his dead…

Two disappeared then suddenly reappeared in front of him.

…body.

They each gripped his arms before he could evade them. His muscles bunched and flexed as he pulled and tried to escape, but they dragged him into the center of the room and shoved him down to his knees while he hissed and growled in warning. It was clear that if they let him go, he would kill the first one of them he could get his hands on.

“Hold him still. Joseph, get her.” The one with the broken nose stepped in front of Io.

“She’s mine!” Io’s voice sounded like a demon’s, as if he were possessed. And, in a way, he was. He was captive to his need to protect his mate, to defend her, to honor her and keep her safe.

But he was failing.

“She belongs only to the king. Your foul hands aren’t worthy to touch her excrement, dog.”

Miriam shot forward and slapped the guard. “How dare you speak of me in such a way, Donovan!”

Io looked around at her and saw that she held his T-shirt to her breasts with her other arm. Her eyes blazed with fire, her chin high and proud.

Donovan’s face spun away from her strike, and he averted his gaze as he turned back toward her, holding his head in shame. “Forgive me, Daughter of Bain.”

“My name is Miriam.”

“Daughter of Bain, you know I am not allowed to address you so casually.”

Miriam’s plaintive gaze captured Io’s in such a way that he realized she longed for what he had given her, even if it had only been for a few hours. He had treated her like she was normal. He had called her Miriam, and even Miri. For just a short time, she had known what it felt like to be average, an everyday citizen, not the daughter of the king. Io got the sense that was what she wanted. More than anything else, she wanted to be treated like she was anything but the king’s daughter.

It was becoming clearer what kind of existence Miriam lived inside the king’s home and what the allure was to cobalt. For Io, using cobalt had been about risk and living—experiencing the bad just to see if he could overcome it. For Miriam, using was about rebelling against the system and escaping from the oppression she lived under every day.

“This male has defiled you, Daughter of Bain.”

“He has not.” Fear flashed in Miriam’s eyes as she looked back at Donovan. “My virtue remains intact.”

“Maybe so, but the scent of his seed covers your body.”

“Donovan. No. I forbid you.”

“He must die, Daughter of Bain.” Donovan took out his sidearm.

“I forbid it!” Miriam tried to slap the gun away, but Joseph pulled her back.

Io’s blood boiled. How dare that filthy male handle his mate so roughly.

Donovan cocked the gun. “The king demands it, and his orders are the law.”

“NO!” Miriam cried out as Donovan stepped forward and pressed the barrel of the gun between Io’s eyes.

Suddenly, the four males froze, becoming like statues.

“Well, well, well. Hello, girls.” Trace’s deep voice drew Io’s gaze around to the stairs. His right arm was stretched out in front of him and the fingers on his hand were splayed. “I knew finding the front door open hadn’t been a good sign,” he said over his shoulder to Severin, who was coming down the stairs behind him.

“Don’t touch her!” Io growled at Trace, still in the throes of mated obsession.

“Cool out, lover boy. I’m not here to pull a sneaky peek at your date.” Trace moved his fingers and the guards’ grips loosened on Io’s arms. He pulled free and immediately rushed to Miriam and pulled her out of Joseph’s hold before turning to watch Sev follow Trace into the room.

“What the hell are you thinking?” Sev said, shaking his head.

Io’s hold on Miriam tightened. “What are you two doing here?” he said, avoiding Sev’s question.

“Saving your ass. Apparently.” Sev’s gaze fell on the bed then flicked to him and Miriam in silent accusation.

Trace slid a matchstick between his lips and ass-parked against the wall, his arms crossed, his mind still holding the four guards in animated suspension. “You mind telling us what the fuck is going on here? I mean, if I’m going to die, I’d like to know why.”

“We’re not going to die,” Sev said.

Trace rolled his eyes in Sev’s direction. “Newsflash, Einstein. These are the king’s guards.” Trace gestured with a back-and-forth wave of his finger. The four men actually teetered side-to-side. “And that is the king’s daughter.” Trace pointed at Miriam. “We are now accomplices to the shit that was going on here.”

Sev strolled around the four males and sighed in frustration before shaking his head.

“Did Tristan know about this when he called and told me to meet you here?” Trace chewed on the matchstick.

Io glanced back and forth between Trace and Sev. “How did Tristan get involved?”

Sev picked up Miriam’s purse and pulled out her phone. “GPS tracker.”

Io exchanged glances with Miriam.

“Shit. I didn’t think about that,” she said.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.” Io held her close, and she kept the T-shirt pressed against her chest. He didn’t like how precariously the fabric hung, almost revealing one of her nipples. He ushered her to the bathroom. “Go ahead and get dressed.”

She stepped inside and within seconds rejoined them, covered up.

Sev shook his head. “What the hell went on here, Io? What were you thinking? You two slept together?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Like hell it’s not,” Trace said, chewing the matchstick. “You better not have fucked her, or Tristan will have your ass.”

Miriam got in Trace’s face and glared at him, repeatedly jabbing her index finger against his chest. His brow furrowed and his mouth screwed up in a half-grin as he looked down at her finger. “We did not
fuck,
” she said. If words could cut, Trace would have been bleeding.

Trace raised his gaze to hers and chuffed. “Then why do you smell like cum?” He cocked his head at her, one brow arched, his arms still crossed and his body still calmly leaning back against the wall.

Miriam gasped. “How dare you.”

Io rushed head-on toward Trace. “Fuck you! You don’t talk to her like that.”

“Bite me, Romeo.” Trace scoffed and waved him away, causing the guards to rock back and forth again.

Io pulled Miriam away from him, glaring at Trace. “Up yours. This is my—” He snapped his mouth closed. He had been about to say she was his mate, but thought better of it. “This is the princess. You treat her like one.” He pointed at Trace then backed away, taking Miriam with him.

“Holy shit,” Sev said.