1
Shane
Being ripped apartfrom the inside out was no fucking fun. Agony gripped my guts, and I bit back a moan so hard I tasted blood. I wasn’t ill; no, I was ravenous, my stomach cramping, it was so empty. The massive amount of food I’d consumed in the last forty-eight hours was insane. Yet I still needed more to take the edge off this insatiable and debilitating hunger. I had no idea why. Or maybe I did.
I blinked, refusing to acknowledge that shitty thought. Sweat rolled down my temple. I wasn’t like them. Like him. I wasn’t. Irritated, I swiped at the offending drops with the back of my hand and did my best to concentrate on the people around me. It was hard when there was so much noise. My shifter ears were sensitive, but since I’d been saved, it was hard to adjust to the amount of noise that constantly bombarded my brain. Heartbeats, voices, music, even the sound of footsteps and glasses clinking; it all thrummed in the air, coalescing to form a crazy mix of sounds that gave me brain fog thick enoughI couldn’t think straight. Smells assaulted my nostrils, and the hundreds of fairy lights that had been fixed to the gazebo and surrounding beach area were bright enough to almost blind me.
Around me, party-goers laughed, sipping their drinks from bottles or expensive crystal glasses. I wanted to join in their revelry, I really did, especially as it was my friend’s handfasting ceremony. I simply couldn’t get past the hunger clawing at my insides, or the noise in my skull.
Glancing up, I watched Selina disappear into the darkness with her new mate. I was pleased for her. At least one of us had found some happiness in life. I sure as hell hadn’t. Mine was an utter shit show, but I wasn’t complaining, not when I was alive and breathing. That was partly thanks to Selina’s mate. Owen had escaped and told Count Balthazar Rossi where we’d been strung up, and that blood sucking fucker had saved my life from the Made vampires who’d kidnapped me. I was equal parts grateful and pissed off. The trouble was, those nasty sons-of-bitches had been using me as a blood bank for weeks before he’d found me. Now I was something…other. No one knew what I’d become, or even if I’d survive. If I didn’t die over the next few weeks, I had no idea what my official species would be. I was no longer a wolf shifter, and I definitely wasn’t a vampire. Disgust tainted my tongue. No, I was some kind of weird hybrid who shouldn’t exist.
I took a swig of beer. Connor, the King of Shifters, had pressed it into my hand before joining the group of powerful males that were his brothers. We had history together, all of us. A wave of respect warmed my chest. I owed them a lot—all of them. That was why I was here. I’d been Lina’s Alpha for years, and I’d released her from the Canadian pack and my protection, into Owen’s. Their handfasting was the only reason I’d been ‘allowed’ off my gaoler’s property.
My gaze sought out the one person at this gathering that I didn’t respect. True, he hadn’t needed to help me, but I didn’t know him, nor did I trust him. At all. I hadn’t worked out his reasons for helping me, but I doubted they were entirely altruistic. Count Balthazar Rossi was ancient, powerful, and didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. No, there was a reason behind his involvement other than goodwill or his alliance with Connor. The Original vampire was as formidable as Con, albeit in a different way. I’d heard stories about him, how he used spells, violence, and vampire juju to punish, imprison, or kill those who wronged him, making them into flesh, blood, and sex slaves at his club. Some argued he held more influence, both personally and in political pull, than the vampire king.
My gaze met Balthazar’s cold, almost colourless eyes, and the alpha in me tensed. Yeah, Balthazar Rossi was definitely not my saviour. No matter the agreement with Connor that I was still a shifter and under his rule, the Count was my gaoler. He ruled my fucking life. He decided what time I left my room, what time I ate, where in his depressingly dark, old castle I went, who I spoke to, and even if I was allowed outside.
The weight of his power pressed down on me. I hated it, the way it made me feel like I couldn’t move or even breathe under its pressure. My skin heated under his scrutiny, nerves dancing in my belly, travelling down to my balls and making my cock twitch. My reaction to him pissed me off, so I pushed back, but that heavy weight didn’t diminish. It was unsettling. No supernatural had ever been able to smother my alpha power and make me almost want to drop to my knees the way he did. A smirk curled his lips, amusement glinting in his piercing, nearly colourless eyes as his gaze caught and held mine.
Goosebumps exploded over my skin, and I shuddered, my heart slamming against my ribs, blood rushing south until I was sporting an uncomfortable semi. Balthazar’s smirk widened. Thefucker knew precisely what he was doing. It infuriated me that he commanded my body as much as my life. I snarled and looked away, hating that I needed to.
Connor shot me a concerned glance as if he sensed my fury. The Shifter King was one scary-assed motherfucker, but he was also someone I trusted. He’d ordered me to stay with the Count, so I would, and bitching about the restrictions placed on me, or admitting that he made me feel like an embarrassed and horny teenager, wasn’t something I was gonna do, definitely not to my king, nor to anyone else. Neither was I admitting I was too weak to fight Balthazar’s mind games. I was an alpha wolf even if I wasn’t the Alpha of the Canadian pack anymore.
My nostrils flared, and my hands fisted. It was his kind, fucking vampires, that had put me in this position. I shook my head, trying to clear it of the whooshing pulse of blood through my ears. Once I was in control of my body, had fought off the virus, and proved I was no more a vampire than Connor himself, I’d leave that damned castle. If the Count tried to stop me, well, I guess we’d get into who really was more powerful. But I wasn’t stupid. I was just clutching at straws. The multiple bites my vampire captors had given me were doing something to my body, their venom changing me. There was no way to pretend I wasn’t infected after being blood raped and left for dead.
Even though I didn't look at him directly again, I was aware every time the Count’s gaze landed on me. Breaking eye contact only relieved some of his oppressive power from my mind and body. We only had to be in the same room, and he could wield it. I’d learnt that the hard way once he’d brought me back from Canada, and I’d fought being locked down in his ancient, dreary castle.
I glanced over as Rawson stood from where he sat by the Count’s side. The massive bear shifter was the new Alpha of the Canadian pack. My pack. My home was there. At least, it hadbeen for the last five years since I’d escaped the prison where we’d all been incarcerated. He made his way around the crowd, piling on the charm and saying his goodbyes. Beyond his smile, though, I could see the darkness in his eyes, the grief he carried. He bumped into a beautiful blonde woman, and the air seemed to sizzle between them. She was petite and lovely. Her breasts were almost too large for her frame, and she was curvier than most of the other women at this handfasting ceremony. Her lips were full and kissable, and her sultry eyes were vibrant and intense. I waited for the lust a beautiful woman like her should bring me. Nothing happened. I didn’t feel anything more than a passing appreciation of how she looked.
It had always been the same, even before the vampires had taken me. As Alpha, I’d had a harem of lovers, but I’d never felt any great desire for them. I’d been happy enough to engage in sating our biological needs, but there’d been nothing life-changing or passionate in our interactions. I almost snorted to myself. Interactions? Who the fuck was I kidding? It had been sex, pure and simple, without any emotion, and just enough arousal to get to an endpoint.
I sighed, leaning my forearms on my knees and swinging my beer bottle between my fingers. I’d had to work hard to hide the lack of satisfaction sex gave me from my partners. Only Selina had noticed that no one had ever come close to being mate material for me. I’d often wondered if I was just too broken to find an emotional connection after being made to kill my own kind just to survive. Though I doubted that was the only reason I struggled to connect with anyone, especially as I’d never once been in love.
As if he were a beacon, my gaze was drawn to the Count, who stood talking to a regal and stunningly beautiful, yet cold-looking fae. The Prince Heir and Regent of Faery wasn’t someone I knew well, although I’d met him when Connor hadbeen at war with Hell. He was an ally, one who’d helped us defeat our enemies.
While the Count talked, I used the opportunity to study him, and that wasn’t something I’d done since I’d lived under his roof. Mainly because I’d been too weak to bother. He came every morning to give me instructions for the day, and returned to check that I’d followed them in the evenings, but I never saw him during the day. I’d defied him once; instead of staying in my room as he’d ordered, I’d decided I wanted to see something other than its four walls. I’d made it as far as the top of the stairs before he’d materialised in front of me. I’d been as weak as a baby, and before I’d even managed to tell him to fuck off, the world started tumbling, my legs giving way as gravity pulled me down the stairs. I hadn’t even had the energy to yell. To my shame, Balthazar caught me. Before I could process the fact that another male had swung me, a six-foot-four, big-assed shifter, into his arms like a child, I was back in my room and lying on the soft mattress. I’d not tried to defy him since. Mainly because I was just so exhausted that I could barely walk to the bathroom and back to my chair by the window, let alone explore. Today was no different. Exhaustion made my whole body heavy, but it was Lina’s day; she loved Owen, and I wouldn’t miss my friend’s handfasting.
I snarled, angry at my body for being so weak, and looked around, finding more than one friend glancing my way. They were all worried. The suspicion. The pity. Their faces were full of it. All because I could so easily become a crazed monster. No one knew if I’d been infected when the Mades kidnapped me and used me as their blood bank. The newest tactic in the war against the Original vampires was a virus. It had been developed to infect the newly turned. When they went through the transition from human to fledgling vampire, it took over. Feeding frenzy, or bloodlust, was a normal part of the transition. At least, itwas for humans. Supernaturals were generally too dangerous when they hit bloodlust to be allowed to live. Now the virus was named after that feeding frenzy because it turned fledglings into insatiable killers who would rip apart anyone nearby, whether they were human or supernatural. Outbreaks were rampaging through cities all over the world, and the Shadow Sentinels, along with the Supernatural Bureau of Investigation and Bal’s vampire army, were fighting back. But it was a losing battle. Finding the vamps who were producing the virus and developing a cure was proving impossible. Even for someone like Balthazar Rossi.
For some reason, both Connor and Balthazar had decided to give me a chance to see if I could handle the change from wolf shifter to Made vampire, but I was under no illusions. They would kill me if I became a danger to anyone. And I wanted them to. The thought of killing innocent people who had never done anything to hurt me made me sick.
I rolled my shoulders and stretched out my aching muscles. I’d felt a little stronger the last few days. I’d even managed to walk unaided. Granted, it had taken me one hell of a long time to get from my room to the light and airy kitchen, but I’d fucking done it. I was just glad Balthazar hadn’t been there to see my pathetic efforts. Sorcha, his other house guest, had been, though. Thankfully, he’d not protested when she stated she’d be spending more time with me now that I’d made it out of my room.
I smiled. Which was easy to do when thinking of Sorcha. She was the sweetest, most quietly spoken woman I’d ever met. Not weak, I could sense her quiet strength, even see it in her eyes. It was something I found intriguing, and more than a little appealing. It made me want to learn everything about her. I’d been as friendly as I could be, and, though we’d only just met, I found myself relaxing in her company. I didn’t relaxwith the Count—at all—ever. I'd refused to give him a smile, or even a word of thanks. Then again, it was hard to be friendly towards a male who was powerful enough to make my skin tingle and dominant enough to challenge every aspect of my alpha personality.
Davlov, his second in command, had been as standoffish as the Count. But Davlov’s mate, Elliot, had gone out of his way to make sure I was as comfortable as I could be, until the Count had warned him away, saying I was a possible danger. It hurt that he was right. I wasn’t dangerous, but no one, not even me, knew when I might go into bloodlust. Sorcha had smiled sweetly and then ignored him, but Elliot couldn’t, not when he was a young vampire himself and was part of the Count’s security team. Besides, Davlov wouldn’t allow Elliot to be alone with me, even though Elliot was a trained assassin. I huffed. There were no hard feelings from me about it, not when I’d do the exact same thing if I had a mate.
I leaned forward in my seat, my buzzing mind focused entirely on the Count’s alluring presence. It wasn’t something I could help. My whole body ached to go to him, something tugging behind my ribs that was almost painful. My fingers curled into my palms, my brows drawn down. Confused didn’t cover how I felt. He might be the most gorgeous male I’d ever seen, but there were many other stunning and sexy supernaturals in this world, and I’d never been so messed up about, angry with, or drawn to any of them.
His waist-length black hair had been secured in a tight, intricate braid that hung down his back. Hints of red shone in those obsidian locks, mesmerising me as they glinted when he moved his head. Beautiful, detailed tattoos wound their way from beneath his silver silk shirt, up the strong column of his neck, disappearing behind his ears into his hairline. My fingersclenched against the insistent urge to undo that braid and run my fingers through his hair. I frowned, shaking my head a little.
What the hell?
I didn’t understand my reaction to him, not that it mattered. I couldn’t drag my attention away. His face was beautiful, almost painfully so, and I doubted many were immune to his perfection. Yet, beneath that beauty simmered a hardness, a vast power that knew no remorse. He was a true monster, if all the legends were to be believed. Still, I guess someone who looked in his late thirties but was ancient had many reasons to be a cold bastard. Life had been pretty shitty at times for me, and at ninety years old, I was only a pinprick of time in Balthazar Rossi’s existence.
I ran my gaze over his strong shoulders. The suit he wore fit him perfectly and clearly cost more money than most people earned in a year. I ignored that fact, continuing my study. His back tapered in an elegant V to a trim waist, his suit jacket stopping just above the tight globes of his arse. My breathing hitched as a sudden and unexpected wave of desire washed through me. What would he look like while he fucked? Would that tight arse and all those other muscles clench as he thrust in hard, controlling and possessing his partner’s body? Would he be as dominant in bed as he was out of it, or possibly more? I clenched my teeth, my heart racing and my cock twitching. Why the hell was I even thinking about that? I’d never been into males. At least, I didn’t think so. I’d honestly never met anyone who turned me on like that image of him naked, covered in a sheen of sweat, and grunting as he fucked—me.
I rubbed my hands over my face, fighting to control my arousal as I caught a hint of his unique scent. Jesus, it was as overpowering and exotic as he was. I exhaled hard. I couldn’t be attracted to him. Not only had I never been with another male, I’d never before felt this level of desire for anyone. It was frightening for that reason alone. I couldn’t be lusting after mycaptor. He was the reason I’d been blood raped. Or at least, his kind was.
