Laws Of The Blood - First Blood - Cave Canem Part 3

"No, the old girl just locks herself out sometimes."

The "old girl" was about a thousand years older than Conover, and he was no spring chicken. He certainly didn't look any the worse for wear, though. He was a beefy guy, but all muscle and no fat and taller than you'd expect someone born in the Roman era to be. She shouldn't find him attractive-it was a species thing-but he looked good to her. And he certainly didn't smell bad.

Tess took a deep breath, and nearly swayed from the rush of l.u.s.t.

"Those are the same pheromones that seduced my great-granny," she said.

"No," he answered. "I was a mortal when that affair happened." He unlocked the gla.s.s door and gestured for her to enter before him. "Don't worry, there's n.o.body home," he said when she hesitated. "Surely a nosy witch can tell that much."

Tess growled. "It's hard to tell anything about Valentine." "True," he said as she walked inside past him.

He followed her into the s.p.a.cious living room. Big place, she noticed, but spa.r.s.ely furnished. Frankly, she'd expected the decor to be gothic, full of a lifetime's worth of mementoes and walls lined with bulging bookcases. The only thing on any wall was a huge flat-screen television. There was a couch, a coffee table, and a couple of chairs facing the television in the center of the room. The kitchen was on her left, a hallway led off the other side of the room. She felt the vampire come up too close behind her and stopped seeing the room.

Awareness of him surrounded her. His slow heartbeat thundered in her ears. His scent was overwhelming. His body heat rose, his warmth flooding through her. Tess wanted to run.

The fear that flashed up from her gut was all wrong. She was Tess Sirella, d.a.m.n it, as scary as any vampire!

She forced herself to turn, shifting form.

When she faced him she saw that the vampire wasn't a vampire at all.

SEVEN.

OH, s.h.i.t. HOW COULD SHE HAVE FORGOTTEN CONOVER was more than a garden variety strigoi?

Frankly, what she now faced looked more like a werewolf than she did. Only a lot bigger and a lot meaner.

These monsters called themselves Hunters. Many vampires called them Abominations, at least out of earshot. The Strigoi Council who ruled vampires named them Enforcers of the Laws of the Blood. Vampires consumed humans; the Hunters consumed vampires who broke the rules of the Council.

"I'm not of your kind," she managed to say though her throat was dry with terror. "I'm not subject to your Laws."

Though she probably knew more about his kind than he did. Knowledge didn't keep Tess from shaking.

A huge paw circled her throat. Claws delicately nicked the sides of her neck.

What are you doing here? His thought drilled into her mind. Where are the pups?

"Oh, c.r.a.p, I don't have your d.a.m.n puppies," she snarled. Maybe Conover frightened her, but that didn't stop her from being a werewolf.

Werewolves kill h.e.l.lhounds, he reminded her.

"I haven't yet."

Tess winced as the claws drew blood. That yet had definitely been a mistake.

Words rushed from her. "I'm not interested in killing your pups. It's my duty to keep them from killing." She grabbed his arm as the vise around her throat grew tighter. His muscles were pure steel. "You have no idea how they can be used," she choked out.

"The magic-"

He tossed her across the room. She landed sprawled on the vast expanse of sofa. Before she could spring up, Conover had changed back to his human form. But he still moved as fast as a vampire.

She snapped at his wrist when he held her down, but had only the satisfaction of tasting his blood. Mortal teeth were practically useless! And it was a trap anyway, because he used his own blood to quickly trace symbols on her chest while he muttered a swift incantation. The magic took hold, leaving her unable to change no matter how much she wanted to.

"I never heard you were a wizard," she said.

"I've been dealing with your kind for a long time," he answered. "I've learned a few tricks along the way."

His hands moved over her in ways that had nothing to do with magic, not in the technical way at least. Her body's response to this alpha handling shorted out her brain, so that it took her a few minutes to ask, "Why did you take off my clothes?"

His knowing chuckle was as much answer as she needed.

"Okay, stupid question. You're not looking for concealed weapons-"

"Hidden charms or spells are weapons, however . . ." After a thorough examination that had him tumbling her around like a doll, he eventually put her on her back and concluded, "No visible body painting or tattoos."

She was panting. d.a.m.ned animal instincts! "You could have just asked."

Fingers delved between her splayed thighs. "I like to be thorough. You aren't minding a bit," he added when he found how wet and ready she was. He played with her swollen c.l.i.t for a while, bringing her to a quick, hard o.r.g.a.s.m with his thumb. "Life's hard being a virgin witch, isn't it?" he asked after her climax pa.s.sed.

"How did you-"

"No woman is that delightfully tight inside in this day and age unless-"

"Let's not talk about my-"

"Vow of chast.i.ty to increase your magical power, my furry little vestal?"

"If I was furry at the moment, I'd rip your throat out."

"I know. And I wouldn't blame you for trying." He leaned back, though a hand on her chest easily held her down. "Fulfilling your vows is an admirable thing, and I shouldn't tease you about it." He stroked her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as he talked. She was all too aware of how her nipples tightened and strained to his touch.

"Excuse me, but would you mind stopping-?" "How do you manage to stay sane when you're in season?" he wondered.

She didn't know if he was using magic, or if she answered because she couldn't help but respond to his genuine curiosity. "A vibrator and a lot of chocolate."

He nodded. "That's better than most men at any time. But enough girl talk . . ."

He said a word that sent sharp pain through her head and left Tess's ears ringing. But she knew he'd released her from the enchantment that had left her in human form.

"Why?" she asked.

"I don't want you to feel under any compulsions when you answer my questions."

Where are they?

His telepathy did not help her headache, but she opened her mind to him. I don't know. I'm here to find out.

He probed and he prowled inside her. He hurt her. She didn't try to fight him. Eventually Conover let her mind go free. Something of his dominance remained inside her though. It was a male to female sort of dominance every member of her kind sought. d.a.m.n Conover and his Hunter-self to h.e.l.l!

It was only then that she noticed how close he held her naked body.

Then the nausea hit and all that mattered was throwing up.

EIGHT.

DAN s.n.a.t.c.hED UP THE RETCHING WEREWOLF AND carried her into the bathroom. He wasn't in the habit of abusing the females of any species, but he was in too much of a hurry to find the pups to question her gently. He was gentle now, knowing that she'd done them no harm. She still held information he intended to find out, but for now he saw to her needs.

He held her head so that she could barf into the toilet bowl and wiped her face with a wet towel when she was done. While she lay collapsed like a sweaty wet noodle on the floor, he adjusted the controls in the shower until the temperature was just right. He lifted her again and eased her under the warm spray.

While waiting for the water to revive her, Dan went in search of clothes to replace the ones he'd ripped and shredded between climbing the walls and turning into a Hunter. Some things it was just better to do naked.

He found a closet full of expensive black clothing in the bedroom occupied by Valentine's apprentice, Geoff. He shook his head at the sight. Why was it vampires wore so much black? Especially the younger ones. The color had never appealed to him. For one thing it showed every speck and fiber. His pets shed a great deal, and not all h.e.l.lhounds were black.

He found a shirt and slacks that fit well enough to replace his jeans and plaid shirt, then went back to see how the girl was doing.

By the time he returned, she'd dried off and wrapped herself in a white robe. Her wet hair was pulled severely back from her angular face. He stopped in the doorway, stunned and staring. Pain and longing shot through him. He shouldn't be so attracted to a creature so absolutely different from his own kind-but his body didn't seem to be aware that l.u.s.t between their species didn't happen.

"What the h.e.l.l's the matter with you?" she demanded.

They'd already established that she was a descendent of Syrilla's, but . . .

"Are you sure werewolves aren't immortal?" he asked.

"We could be," she said. "If we used the same sort of dark magic your kind is addicted to."

Her comment reminded him of other things she'd said, and bits of knowledge he'd picked up inside her mind. The problem with telepathy wasn't in picking up thoughts, but in putting them into context. He'd dug out the specific items he'd been looking for- she hadn't taken the pups, she'd never killed a h.e.l.lhound, she was looking for them herself, and like him sensed that Valentine was somehow involved. She was, in fact, as much a guardian of the animals as he was. He didn't know why. He didn't know how.

He took her hand, meaning to pull her back into the living room, but he dropped it as soon as their skin touched and an electric charge of attraction pa.s.sed between them.

"Stop that!" she demanded.

"I'm not doing it on purpose!"

"You were earlier."

"That was only to distract you so I could get into your head."

"s.e.x as a weapon? That is just so-strigoi."

"It is, isn't it?"

"You don't have to sound so pleased about it."

"Don't whine when you're not in wolf form," he told her, and enjoyed the energy rush as temper flared in her eyes and through all her senses. He turned and walked toward the living room, wondering if she'd jump him from behind. Instead she followed him. He was almost disappointed at her ability to control her wild nature.

"Why do you think Valentine is involved?" he asked after they'd settled on opposite ends of the couch.

"Would you believe me if I told you I sensed her shadow in a dream?"

"I've been known to believe odder things," he answered. "Someone used ancient magic in an ancient language to distract me. Valentine is one of the few who know the old tongues and the most powerful spells."

"You're Nabatean, from the Roman-era city of Petra, now in Jordan," she said. "Your native language evolved into modern Arabic."

"The written form did, not the spoken. And I didn't say what ancient language was used in the spell."

"Oh, please. Don't go all mysterious. Could anything else have trapped you?"

Dan shrugged and shook his head. "I don't suppose you speak Nabatean?"

"No. My turn to ask a question. Why would Valentine help a demon steal the puppies?"

"She wouldn't." Dan stood. "What demon? Strigoi don't deal with demons. Valentine certainly wouldn't. If she's in her right mind at the moment," he added in a low mutter.

She smiled at his reaction. "I know that vampires and demons have a formal treaty never to interfere with each other, but do you really think you can trust demons?"

Dan wasn't sure that demons really were demons, not in the way mortals defined them. Of course, mortals had the information about every supernatural species mixed up, if not outright wrong. The strigoi's knowledge of demonkind wasn't much better, even after thousands of years of co-existence with the strange creatures.

"It's not my job to trust demons," he told the werewolf. "My duty is to make sure that the Law against interfering with them is enforced. And I don't believe Valentine would break the-"

"Valentine doesn't give a d.a.m.n about the Laws of the Blood, remember? She's never acknowledged your Strigoi Council and there's not a single Enforcer who could stop her from doing anything she wants. She's the loose cannon, the wild card, and the mother of all Enforcers. You look shocked, Hunter. Didn't you know about Valentine's brood?"

Valentine-Valentia back then-had made him into a vampire, but- "She didn't make me what I am."

"I know. The way it works is that vampires turn their mortal companions into vampires. Only members of the Hunter bloodline can turn vampires into Hunters. It was a Hunter named Olympias who turned you into a monster that preys on vampires. But the Hunter line started somewhere, and Valentine is the first of your line, the beginning. She keeps the knowledge of what she is and how she came to be secret, but my pack of werewolf witches-"

"Know more about the strigoi than we know about ourselves," he finished for her.

"We make it our business to find out all we can about every type of supernatural being. Syrilla's pack protects werewolves the way you Hunters protect strigoi. My a.s.signment is to make sure the h.e.l.lhounds don't fall into the wrong hands. Demon hands are the wrong hands, and demons have been trying to get hold of Syrilla's pups since the beginning."

"I was there at the beginning," he reminded her. "No demons tried to harm the first pups. But a great many of your kind died in the attempt to destroy them."

"A great many werewolves did die at your hands," she acknowledged. "That's why the werewolf community eventually came to the conclusion that my pack would be totally responsible for dealing with the h.e.l.lhound problem. Not that we ever mentioned this to you strigoi."

"Vampires can be negotiated with, you know. Werewolves are too d.a.m.n secretive."

She shrugged. "It's a fault, I admit. Probably even a genetic one."