1
GETHIN
The stranger was absolutelyfurious.He was also insanely strong, but luckily Gethin had the advantage of surprise. The man he had trapped struggled and fought like a demon, but Gethin was powerful, even by the standards of his kind, so he decided to sit it out — literally.
Slicing the man’s legs from under him, and flipping the whirlwind of thrashing limbs from where he had him restrained, arms up against the wall, to the corded carpet, he kept a firm grip on the guy’s wrists with one hand. Keeping the other clamped around his intruder’s neck, he sat his arse down, pinning the bloke to the floor. The stranger’s head whipped round, sharp white fangs glistening in the ray of lamp light coming through the window. Ahh, that confirmed the feral strength. Before now, it had only been a suspicion.
“Fuck’s sake, man, you’ll not make a meal out of me. Quit your temper tantrum and calm down. At this rate, it’ll be far too easy to sling you in a holding cell. I’d much prefer it if you made it a decent fight.” Goading a vampire wasn’t Council-approved behaviour, but then again, Gethin reasoned, neither was burglary.
The vampire gave a truly outraged squawk. “Temper tantrum?”he spat. “I’ll give you fucking temper tantrum.” He renewed his efforts to free himself, but Gethin was a solid mass on his lower back and the vamp was only wearing himself out. He didn’t stop fighting though, not even as Gethin manhandled him across the room to where he’d placed the chains on a chair in preparation.
The vamp went batshit. He had to be already near exhaustion or he’d surely have been able to fend Gethin off by now. As a senior wolf, Gethin Hughes was one of the strongest predators in the UK, but he was fairly sure this guy wasn’t a wet-behind-the-ears bloodsucker, merely one who’d picked the wrong house to burgle. And that spoke of a possible desperation, but why, Gethin had no clue.
He hauled the bloke to his knees with one meaty paw, swiping up a length of chain and neatly encircling the vampire’s neck. He felt almost sorry for being the cause of the eldritch screech that tore from the guy’s throat as the silver made contact with his bare neck. He shuddered, then stilled completely. “You fucking wanker.” His Geordie accent was shredded with pain.
“That’sMisterfucking wanker to you, boyo. P’raps you’ll think twice in future about breaking and entering.” He made quick work of fastening additional chains around his captive’s wrists and ankles, then tethering all the chains to a massive bolt in the wall. As a finishing touch, he assembled then slotted the oversized, silver-and-iron-enforced cage around the bloke, finally padlocking the cage bars to the corresponding links also embedded in the reinforced wall. This room was handily set up as the most secure in the building. Unfortunately for Gethin’s prisoner it gave the appearance of a rarely-used box room. This vamp wasn’t the first person to realise his mistake too late. But he was the first vampire to ever break in.
Gethin removed his gloves and set them down on the now empty chair. “Back in a tick,” he said breezily. He closed the door to yet more abuse, but it was tempered by the silver. His prisoner was shackled now, in more ways than one.
He trotted downstairs and made himself a cuppa. Grabbing a handful of Jaffa Cakes to tide him over, he headed back upstairs, one extra item clasped in his dangling fingers. He took a gulp of his tea, then opened the door, steeling himself for another round ofinsult the shifter.
Instead of another barrage of abuse, sullen, intense blue-grey eyes glared at him from the cage. The guy was all but vibrating with anger, but the silver had thankfully silenced him. Gethin had no doubt it was a temporary reprieve. This one practically screamed high maintenance.
Parking his bum on the edge of the chair, Gethin studied the man before him. The vamp was, he allowed, very good-looking. Medium height and slender, with light red hair — although it was currently mottled in patches with what appeared to be a bad dye job — and a liberal dousing of equally pale freckles. Truth be told, he looked a tad delicate, with perhaps even a hint of what used to be called nobility, with his fine features and elegant bearing.All overbreeding and angst, like a nervy racehorse.
Where the hell had that come from? Gethin buried his nose in his mug to consider his confusion. He was above all a practical person, known for his wise head and sensible decisions. Nothing fazed him, one of the main reasons he’d got this job working for the Council in Cardiff. Well, that and it was just far enough from his ex wife and her overbearing pack to feel comfortable.
He munched through three Jaffa Cakes, his gaze not leaving his prisoner. Then, when he was satisfied the guy was sufficiently cowed by his presence, he tossed the plastic packet between the bars. “Compliments of the fridge, princess. Don’t spill any now, the carpet’s not long been cleaned.”
2
SORLEY
Sorley caughtthe package by reflex. His eyes widened as he clocked the contents. His sense of smell hadn’t failed him.
Except, “The fuck’s your game? What is this, poisoned? Or is it laced with some experimental sedative? Bet your lot would love that, eh?” It didn’t smell altered, but obviously, it wouldn’t. They were too clever for that. The chain was burning the skin around his neck but no matter how he moved, there was always a part of him making contact. He wasn’t sure if the Welsh arsehole had arranged the wrist and ankle shackles to fit over his clothing or if that had been accidental, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to draw attention to the fact. Small mercies.
His throat burned. He was so thirsty! Part of what had got him into this mess in the first place. There’d been such an amazing scent coming from the ground floor, he’d circled the house three times before deciding there had to be blood stored somewhere on the premises. It was no comfort he’d been right. Although why a wolf shifter had a stock of blood was something he couldn’t begin to fathom.C’mon, think!
He sighed and let his head fall backwards. The wolf just sat there, sipping his brew and looking for all the world like he was about to kick back with a good book. No, not a book. By the look of him, that’d be too highbrow. A television show then, one of those reality ones with orange-skinned ‘personalities’ competing for some banal prize. Like…like…Sorley had no idea. He’d never really got on with TV. He didn’t mind binge-watching series on Netflix and the like, because if he was bored, he could fast forward to the action without having to wait for the following week. Humans were soslow.
“It’s not poisoned, or altered in any way. Just your regular sang du jour. O neg, I think.” The wolf gave a soft laugh, seemingly amused by his wine joke. Sorley snapped his gaze up to the hairy oaf, mumbling around a mouthful of biscuit. Christ, he’d dropped some on the floor now.
He snarled. “I don’t think I’ll trust your hospitality,thanks.”He flicked the blood bag away from him, but not too far. Just far enough it looked like he wasn’t bothered by its presence.I might crack and need it.
“Suit yourself.” Hairy shrugged. He tipped his mug up and drained it. “Name’s Gethin, by the way. Who shall I tell the Council dropped by to see me?” He pulled a top of the range mobile phone from a pocket of his jeans and thumbed the screen.
Sorley blanched. Not literally, of course. He was already pale, and thirsty to the point of near frenzy, but he practically felt his freckles recede under the whoosh of terror the simple question lit in him.Dalziel will kill me.
Endeavouring to keep his tone neutral, he said, “The Council? Bit of an overreaction, don’t you think? Okay, I shouldn’t have broken in, but how was I to know you were a wolf, or paranoid? I only came for the blood.”
The fellow, Gethin, raised two thick brows. “Well, you see, that’s not really my problem, is it? You don’t strike me as a newb, which really makes me wonder what you were doing breaking in. You could have easily taken your pick of Cardiff night life, got yourself topped up with a little bit of chat or even an exchange of money — you know we try not to judge — then been on your merry way. But no, instead of that, which presumably’s been your M.O. for the past…” He tilted his head and studied Sorley for a beat. “…couple of hundred years or so, you decided to take a more puzzling route.” His brown eyes hardened. “I don’t like puzzles, Mr Vampire. I don’t much like thieves either, but I could’ve excused that if you’d been newly spawned and alone, or noticeably jonesing. You’re neither.” He waved a hand at the cage. “Hence the welcome party.”
Sorley groaned. He was too good at hiding his thirst, but old habits died hard. “How the fuck did you even know I was coming? I presume you don’t lay out the precious metals for shits and giggles? Can’t feel good, even through gloves.” Yeah, he’d noticed the careful way the wolf had handled him. How the long sleeves of his shirt had tucked into those thick gloves. How there hadn’t been a spare inch of the man opposite that wasn’t covered in cloth.
The shifter rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to know how I knew. And you know damn well I don’t react well to silver either. But it’s bloody effective against your sort, so there was no choice.”
“You could have let me go,” Sorley said silkily. He wasn’t above begging.Yes I am!
