She was going to freaking kill him. And she meant true death, not the immortal-in-the-ground-sleep-for-two-fricking-centuries dead. She meant dead as a doornail. She would make sure he would never forget the day she landed on his ass. Granted he had taken her in when she’d been newly turned, a fledgling, she grunted to herself, not even bothering to wipe away the blood dripping over her face and into her eye. She curled her lip, fangs glistening as much from pain as anger in the moonlight.
Thanks to her adopted father Vic Romasis she was now a part of the immortal line of Lupine, bloodsuckers who lived as much with the wolf as they did with the humans. She could even feel her inner wolf brushing her insides in anger, her blood boiling under her flesh. She just had to be the best. Had to beat out everything around her so that her daddy would see her, cherish her like her own father never had. Her mother, Lillian, had been a Lupine who had been dormant. The first ever known to the Lupine kind. She had been sensitive to sunlight and had an appetite for raw meat, but had lived as a human successfully for thirty years before being brutally raped and then tossed aside in a dingy alleyway. From that union came Rye and she had been determined never to let the stigma of her father’s brutality hit her.
She hissed, go fucking figure. She hadn’t succeeded in the least. After accomplishing everything from gold metals in every sport for females, and few for men, she had then conquered corporate America. Her zeal and her success, she thought at last, had made her powerful and enigmatic stepfather proud of her. For her success, he had thrown her in chains and given her to the South-Clan leader to turn. For nearly one hundred years she had been under his thumb. She had not been his Alpha bitch, but her sex had pleased him enough. She had grown to hate her father, and even her mother, in those dark years. She hadn’t cared that her mother probably believed she had wanted to be converted, a rare half-breed who could successfully be turned. That she had coveted the change in some way.
It was Serrek who had finally freed her. Paid a king’s ransom for her and then inducted her into the Guild. In short order she had been trained to channel her anger and strength into killing and it had given her freedom. She had always been thankful to Serrek. Appreciative that he had seen what she had needed deep inside and given it to her. Now that hatred was going to be squarely placed on his shoulders. She may like him a little later, after she kicked his ass. She huffed, her useless leg dragging behind her.
She counted to ten, and then counted again.
Her latest mark, one Theodore Smith, had been a mutilator of girls. He had used his power and prestige to hide a disgusting blackness inside that craved the pain of other human beings. She had been happy enough to get rid of him. However, things hadn’t gone as planned. It had taken four months, four fricking months, to become his next target. To make herself seem pathetic and weak enough to be prey. She was to kill him in close quarters, give him the death he had given others to satisfy the client, a father of one of the dead girls. She had made it, even had allowed herself to be taken and shackled, a feat that she had to be extremely proud of. Just as she had let some of her enhanced strength free to break the raggedy cuffs a shot rang out. She watched in amazement as a gaping red hole appeared between Theo’s eyes, brains and blood splattering the wall as he crumbled. She had barely a moment to react before his massive guards came running in.
She may be immortal, but gun bullet ripping through muscle and bone still hurt like hell. She had ripped their heads off, one by one, bullets riddling her flesh, and escaped. She growled, feeling her face begin to contort as her wolf tried to push toward the surface.
Cool it baby, you won’t be able to do anything with a useless hind leg. We’ll be okay soon.
She turned into an alleyway, the alcove hidden from human eyes with by a glamour. The entrance to the Guild HQ was down in the darkness. Twisting her thumb and first finger into a “C” shape with her left hand and touching them to the palm of her other hand she started opening the path.
“Di me entrada,” she whispered, and blinked as the whirling gate opened. She dragged herself through it, not even looking toward Rafe as he stood. The psychic vamp was to die for. You know, one of those you-better-fuck-me-or-you’ll-regret-it even a virgin would have noticed. Glacier blue eyes in a Roman face, dark hair curling at his shoulders, and a body like Adonis made him mouth watering. To top it all off, the Cajun could spout the French language like it was nobody’s business. But as cold as his eyes were, his heart was colder. Though, she knew, he was loyal to the Guild, and even was a friend of sorts for her, women passed the occasional screw were never long in the picture.
“Rye,” he warned, his eyes narrowing. Rafe was amazing at three things: screwing, fighting, and killing. But what he was unparalleled in was his ability to drain one to nothingness with simply his mind; taking every thought, memory, or emotion from them until they were nothing. It was the vamp’s way of feeding, the way he sustained his life. None were complaining since they left him all the better for their trouble since he usually fed from their lust when he was riding their brains out. Rye had been tempted more then once to let him feed on her. But relations between members of the Guild, especially ones who worked in the same unit, were frowned on. Besides, her kind tended to mate when with a single partner for too long and that she wasn’t ready for, no matter how sexy the bait. Tonight, however, she was too tired to be charmed.
“Move it or lose it,” she hissed, not breaking stride as she moved toward Serrek’s office.
“Wha’ the hell happen’ to you?”
“That’s exactly what in Hades I want to know.” Her eyes were flashing, the golden orbs nearly overlaid with white she was so angry. Rafe knew the signs and took a slow breath. He really didn’t want to lay a hand on her, but if she didn’t calm down he’d have to. As guard to Serrek, which was laughable in itself, he couldn’t let harm touch him. As a psychic vamp he could feel her anger rushing over his flesh, sending his little micro-hairs twitching with want. He hadn’t fed yet and her emotions were rocking him. Her dark hair fanned around her heart-shaped face like a shield, brushing the small of her back, exposed in her ripped uniform. The skintight leather get up straight the hell from the Matrix hugged her lush form like skin. Her full breast pushes and peaked through holes, and he could have sworn a rosy nipple was visible. But the blood and pain in her aura as much as the anger pulled his libido in check.
“You neva careless, ma soeur,” he said then, eyes narrowed in anger. He took care of his own, and her pain was so great he was surprised she was still walking. Her determination and spine alone kept her on her feet, one leg hanging useless. He had to admire the girl’s grit, even if he was going to have to smack her down if she didn’t behave. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to it considering she was the top ranked assassin in the Guild. He may be stronger, having lived a few hundred years more, but she could give as good as she got.
“I wasn’t careless this time,” she hissed, stopping finally, tears shimmering in her eyes. The lick of betrayal blazed across his sensors and he froze.
“Who?” he whispered, his voice all the more deadly because of the quietness. The invisible hairs along his flesh that sensed emotion and helped him feed slicked against his flesh and he could feel himself fading in and out. The hair could make him transparent when he wanted to use them to kill with his psychic talent. The need he had surprised him, but his mind didn’t give him a chance to think too long.
“Serrek,” Rye whispered, her body finally overcome with her agony, her flesh trembling as she struggled. Her anger had been the only thing holding her up, and simply saying Serrek’s name had made her hurt overtake that anger. He reached her, pulling her into his arms just as she passed out. He carried her, using his mind to press the vitro unit at the base of his throat that would communicate with others in the Guild.
“Lance,” he heard in an eerie mind voice. It had taken time for them all to get use to the internal communication. Their lips didn’t have to move, everything mental, and it eliminated the chance of being heard on a co-op mission. Very necessary when the Guild sported immortals of different species.
“Brin’ the MILK, yea? Rye gon’ nee’ it.”
“Of course,” Lance immediately replied, cutting the connection. The Humanoid doctor was always matter-of-fact. He had been as a human, and was now, even with half his internal organs replaced with artificial intelligence after a massive car accident had nearly taken his life. The neuro-surgeon had been given a chance to live, by Serrek himself, and become apart of the Guild. With no children or loved ones to have worried about him the doc had signed up. And they were all quite lucky he did.
Lance had single-handedly created MILK, Mental Immersion Linked Kinetics. A clear tub filled with millions of nanos, which appeared like a platinum liquid that aided to heal and rejuvenate immortals that suffered injuries while on contract. Though they couldn’t die, immortals like Lupines or Shifters often couldn’t heal themselves in a rejuvenating sleep through the daylight like vamps or ‘droids. With Rye battered and bloody it was time to put Lance’s work to use.
Rafe pushed through Serrek’s office door with little worry of being reprimanded. He was the one person who had access to anywhere that Serrek was, and the leader had enough to answer for. He couldn’t be absolutely sure, he hadn’t been trying to dig into the girl’s mind, but he caught the impression that Rye was half in love with the Guild leader and didn’t even know it, and whatever had happened while on her latest mission had rocked her faith in him.
“What the…What happened?” Serrek bellowed, his dreadlocks whipping around his shoulders as he turned sharply. His green eyes flickered hard with white like Rye’s had done, his anger showing. His face seemed drained of color, even under his dark skin.
The native Caribbean Lupine had never lost his island looks. He was big, nearly pushing 6’5”; his ‘locks falling passed his shoulders, his body honed like a gladiator of old. It was amazing the ‘locks survived his transition from man to wolf, but they had. An oddity of the Lupine blood, Rafe was sure. At the moment, that wasn’t what was hitting him. It was the wild look in Serrek’s eyes as he raced to Rye’s side, pulling her out of Rafe’s arms as Lance stalked in, his arms bulging as he pushed the tank filled with MILK into the office.
“Ready her,” he called, not paying the slightest attention to the elevated tension in the room. His short-cropped brown hair was dropping into his forehead over his glasses but he ignored it. The narrow faced doctor was handsome for a human, but too uptight by far. Rafe forced his arms to release his cargo as Serrek pulled her tattered uniform from her limbs, revealing multiple bullet wounds and pale flesh. The dark-haired beauty looked lethal even passed the hell out.
“Why you sen’ her in, mon ami?” Rafe asked, an eyebrow lifting when Serrek bristled.
“I sent her to do a job, not be mutilated.”
“So you sa’,” Rafe said, watching with cold eyes as Serrek lifted Rye’s body into the platinum goo and she slid in. It took a moment but then she was jerking awake as the nanos began their work. She hissed, her eyes snapping open.
“I’m gonna rip your fucking head off as soon as Lance clears me from this shit.”
