Rise of the Fae Read online

  The music floating out of the bar assaulted him along with the sights and smells of the city night. Blood, sweat, and perfume wafted out to greet him. He stepped into the establishment and pushed his way to the crowded bar. The black-haired vamp bartender caught his eye and nodded, his dreadlocks shaking over his shoulders.

  Neeman slid through the throng of bodies pressing against him and headed for the VIP section. Colored lights illuminated the dance floor. Suspended above on platforms, vamp and vampyr females shook and writhed to the music for the enjoyment of the patrons.

  A female vampyr slid up to Neeman, stopping him. Her large, pale blue eyes scoured his body as she ran her fingers over his chest.

  “You’re Neeman.” She smiled.

  The girl’s long brown hair hung loosely around her, silhouetting her oval-shaped face and overly pouty lips.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” Her short fangs gleamed in the dim light of the dance floor, illuminating the small teardrop rubies she’d inset into them.

  “No. Thank you.” He swallowed hard as her face fell. Why couldn’t he say yes? Here was a girl full of curvy loveliness any vampyr would die to have pressed underneath him, and she didn’t even stir a flutter in his gut.

  Neeman reached over his shoulder and grabbed Riley by the arm. “This is Riley, he’s one of the best trackers in my squad. I’m sure he’d be more than happy for a beautiful woman to buy him a drink.”

  Neeman slid around the girl, making a beeline for his table. In the past months, he’d taken more females to bed than he had in the whole of his long life. Since Danika had chosen Mason as her mate he’d done anything and anyone to try and drown her memory. The fact that he was in a bar once more was testament to the fact that he wasn’t succeeding.

  “I’m Lana,” she said to Riley. Neeman ground his nails into his palms and cracked his knuckles. Why couldn’t he have just let the girl buy him a drink, screwed her in the bathroom, and then let her go? He’d done it a million times in the last months. Somehow tonight he just wasn’t into it.

  He reached his booth as the waitress showed up with Savor and vodka.

  “Keep ’em coming,” he growled. Something was off with him tonight. The air of the bar held a heady scent, which set him on edge. The energy of the patrons was heightened. He scanned the room for signs of trouble but nothing seemed amiss.

  He reached for the glass and took a long sip. The synthetic O negative went down with a burn from the vodka. It had been decades since Neeman had used alcohol to dull his pain. Images of the night he’d been turned flashed into his memory, drowning out the sights and sounds of the bar. The smell of death, the cold chill of a tight grip on his shoulder, the bloodshot eyes and long gleaming fangs.

  Neeman shook his head and downed the rest of his drink. A whoop and holler from the dance floor pulled his attention. His gaze swept the area for danger, but the bodies were too thick to see anything.

  “Your drink, sir.” The waitress set a second glass on the table. Neeman nodded and she picked up the first glass, carrying it away.

  He scratched at his growing scruff. How long had it been since he’d shaved? Or cut his hair for that matter? Danika had always liked him clean shaven and hair short.

  The years they’d been together had been the happiest in his new existence. When she’d broken it off, he’d thrown himself into the Tracking Squad, making it more efficient than it had ever been, even when Roth had been running it. His eye for detail and his obsession for order had the group running with more precision than ever.

  So much had changed in the past year. From Danika decreeing that humans were no longer to be slaves, to humans being put into his care to be made into trackers. He barely recognized the woman Danika had become.

  When she had returned to his life a year ago, he realized his feelings were still the same. And he’d been so close this time to having her for good. But within a matter of days, he’d gone from being the happiest man alive, to the most devastated. He didn’t blame Mason, or Danika. They were a formidable couple and, as dangerous as Mason’s demon nature was, he was also the best protector Danika could have from those who threatened her.

  Danika’s uncle Chase was still out there, hiding in the shadows. He’d tried to kill Danika twice, and he’d try again.

  Neeman had all of his connections searching for Chase. It would be his pleasure to rip the pompous, self-righteous bastard limb from limb before serving him up to Danika and Mason.

  Shouting emanated from the dance floor. The crowd shifted. Females moved to the edge of the arena and males migrated to the center. Neeman glanced at the bar for Riley but didn’t spot him. He downed his drink and headed for the upheaval.

  The crowd parted around him as he stomped out to see what the commotion was about. He stepped through a ring of vamps and vampyr and stopped short. His breath sucked in and his chest tightened. A female, wearing little more than a bikini top covered in a flannel shirt and a pair of bootie shorts, danced in the center of the floor. Men ground and gyrated all around her, touching her in places that were not appropriate.

  Neeman’s gut clenched. Her shoulder-length black hair swished around her neck as she swayed her hips. For minutes, he did nothing more than stare. She moved with sensuality that few possessed. Her scent floated across the floor and hit him with force. She smelled of vanilla and cinnamon.

  A young vamp bumped into another vamp. Without a word the second lashed out and punched the first one in the face. Before Neeman could react the males were in an all out brawl.

  He moved like light into the fray, pulling the males apart and shoving them to the side. The female barely took notice, continuing to sway to the music, with her back to him. Her scent grew stronger the closer he got, making his fangs ache and his arousal grow. The sensation shocked him. In all of his years as a vampyr, he’d never once desired to take someone’s blood from the vein.

  The two vamps ran at him, pulling him to his senses. Neeman brought the first to his knees with a quick uppercut to the jaw. The second he grabbed by the throat and bared his fangs.

  “Do you know who I am? I could kill you right here for even daring to look in my direction if I wanted.”

  The vamp’s eyes went wide. He blinked several times and seemed to come to his senses. “Sorry.”

  Neeman squeezed the vamp’s throat tighter, pulling him close. “I didn’t catch that.”

  “I’m sorry.” The vamp’s already bluish-colored face was now ashen.

  Neeman dropped him to the ground as a bouncer pushed through the crowd.

  “Is there a problem?” He looked at the vamp on the ground.

  “Not anymore.” Neeman’s gaze swept to the female who still swayed within a throng of male vamps, her slender hands raised high above her head. He blinked twice as the lights turned from blue to pink on the dance floor. The hairs on his neck stood up. Her skin no longer held the bluish tint of a vamp. She now looked positively rosy. He stalked forward and shoved the vamps aside. Grabbing the female by the wrist, he turned her to face him.

  “Hands off.” She shoved Neeman in the chest and his gaze met a pair of brilliant, purple eyes. She stopped moving and sucked in a breath at the sight of him.

  She was human.

  The two stared at each other for several seconds. Her heart-shaped face sported high cheekbones flushed a light shade of peach. Her beauty was mesmerizing. Foreign and lovely, her eyes held a strength he’d rarely seen.

  “What are you doing in here?” he asked, coming to his senses. “Where’s your master?”

  A slight smile played upon her lush lips. “I have no master, loverboy, but would be happy to allow you to take me home if you wish.”

  Her raspy, sexy voice stirred desire within him. She was the walking, talking fantasy every man dreamed of. She slid her hand up his chest and encircled her arms around his neck.

  “It’s been a long, long time since I’ve been with a man. Especially a vampyr. W
hy don’t you take me to your place and we can dance there?”

  Neeman’s senses lit up like firecrackers. Her scent swirled around him, teasing his resolve. Her eyes held him captive and refused to let him go. She pressed her body against his and the softness of her flesh rubbed against him as she swayed her hips again. For a moment, Neeman forgot everything. Where he was. Who he was. What he was supposed to be doing. She brought her face closer to his and inhaled.

  “I love the smell of your cologne.”

  “I don’t wear cologne,” he managed.

  “You don’t?” Her eyebrows knit together again and she stood on her tiptoes to reach his neck. Neeman held completely still as she sniffed him again. “Mmm… I think it might just be you, loverboy.”

  Neeman tracked her every movement. Her eyes flashed and shivers ran up his spine. Something wasn’t right. Without pretense, he grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder.

  “Hey!” she said. “I like it rough, but this is a bit barbaric. Put me down.”

  The vamp males turned on him. Neeman backed away and the group followed. He glanced behind, but Riley was still nowhere in sight.

  “Stay where you are and I won’t take any of you into custody,” he shouted.

  The vamps slowed but didn’t stop. Neeman unholstered his weapon. The female squirmed in his arms and beat upon his back.

  “Put me down, you arrogant prick. Trust me, you won’t like me when I’m angered.”

  “Shut up and I might let you live.” Neeman jostled her on his shoulder. He scanned the advancing males. “Stop, or die. Your choice. Is getting offed over a stupid human worth it?”

  “A stupid human?” the female shrieked. “Why you son of a—”

  A sudden jolt of electricity coursed up Neeman’s spine, making his muscles tense and his back arch. His knees buckled and he almost went down. Using his gun hand, he slapped the female on the rear. “Stop zapping me with that Taser, before we both get hurt!”

  He leveled his gun at the group of vamps in a last attempt to stop them. He didn’t want to shoot. Doing so in the middle of the club would cause problems for Danika, but he refused to let himself get hurt either.

  Suddenly another person appeared beside him and he glanced over to see Riley at his side, shirt untucked, hair mussed.

  “Nice of you to show up.”

  “Sorry, boss. That girl Lana was really… Yeah, well anyway, sorry.”

  The vamps halted as Riley drew his weapon. Three bouncers joined the crowd and the vamps backed away.

  Neeman swallowed hard, and without a word, holstered his gun, turned and strode from the bar. His adrenaline shot through him like a bullet and he knew it was only minutes before the shakes started. He stomped outside and took a deep breath, letting the now pounding rain slap his face. The perfume of damp earth and metal filled his nostrils, clearing the female’s scent from his head.

  The valet moved swiftly to open the door of his SUV. Neeman threw the girl inside while keeping a firm grip on her arm. Riley slid in the driver’s seat and started the engine.

  “Where to, boss?”

  Neeman eyed the female in the backseat. “What’s your name?”

  “What’s it to you?” She smirked.

  All sweet innocence and allure were gone from her eyes. She crossed her arms over her open shirt, pushing out her ample breasts and glared at him.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Trust me, you can’t get to where I live.”

  Neeman ground his teeth together. For all her beauty, she was quickly becoming a pain in the ass. “So you’re from a survivor camp then. Why the hell would you come into Chicago? You had to know you’d get caught.”

  “I’m not from a camp,” she said with a sneer.

  He held out his hand. “Give me the Taser.”

  “What?”

  “The Taser you zapped me with.”

  She laughed. “The only Taser I have is me.”

  Neeman growled and tried to keep his temper in check.

  “Fine. Keep it. But if you zap me with that thing again, I’m gonna knock you out.”

  She smiled. “I’d like to see you try.”

  Neeman looked her over. She wasn’t dirty and her bikini and plaid shirt weren’t either. She couldn’t belong to someone in town. He’d have gotten a call about her going missing.

  “Did you get out of Coven House?”

  She stared at him for a minute. “I belong to Mason.”

  All air sucked out of him like a vacuum. Mason had a slave?

  “Do you know him?” she asked.

  “I’m sure there are many Masons in Chicago.” Neeman’s mouth felt as if it had been swabbed with cotton and his tongue clung to the roof of his mouth.

  She shrugged. “Possibly, but this one is the biggest male you’ll ever see and he’s mated to a coven lord named Danika.”

  The blood and vodka burned back up Neeman’s throat.

  “You do know him. I can see it on your face,” she said.

  “To Coven House?” asked Riley.

  “No,” said Neeman. “To the compound.”

  The female sat up quickly. “But I told you—”

  “I heard what you said.” Neeman faced forward. “To the compound,” he ordered again. He reached into his pocket for a smoke, but gripped the pack of gum instead. He pulled a piece from it and stuck it in his mouth.

  He stared out the rain-soaked window as buildings flashed by. Mason. She was Mason’s slave.

  If what she said was true, this was a problem. Probably for him, definitely for Mason. But either way, Neeman knew one thing for sure. There was no way Danika knew about the girl. And if he took her to Coven House, she’d be dead within the hour.

  Chapter 3

  Selene sat on the small white bed and stared at the door. She tried to piece together what had happened in the last hours. She remembered going to her apartment, and lying down on the couch to get over the trip. Then she’d got up and went out and… She’d just woken up in this room with the sexy blond vampyr thrusting a set of clothes fit for a drill sergeant at her and telling her to stay put. A worrisome sense of foreboding sat in her stomach. It had been decades since she’d woken up somewhere new and that had only been because of—

  She leapt from the bed.

  No. This couldn’t be happening.

  She reached for her amulet, wishing she still had it. Taking a deep breath, she tried to retrace her steps from the night. She pounded her fists on her temples and focused. She started at the beginning, getting flashes.

  In an effort to gain her bearings, she’d gone north to the park where she and Mason had found each other. She’d gone around on foot for hours taking in the devastation of Chicago, the buildings, the smells, the cars, the phones that had no wires, and the closed businesses. All of it was different. She’d kept to the shadows easily so as not to be seen in the darkness.

  Going to the club had been a whim. With fifty bucks in her pocket and no idea what to do, she’d gone to get a drink. One thing she’d missed from this realm was margaritas.

  That’s where things started to get fuzzy. She’d used her magick and the Vampire at the door had let her in. The vamp at the bar had given her a margarita without asking for money, and the vamps on the dance floor had flocked to her like bears to honey.

  She’d been dancing, by herself, when the blond male had shown up and carried her out.

  She got the vague sense she’d tried to charm him, but it hadn’t worked, because now she was stuck in this tiny room without windows, a prisoner.

  “Way to go, Seraphine!” she whispered. She crossed her arms over her chest.

  A chuckle of laughter sounded, chilling her soul. Real great way to spend her first day back in Chicago!

  The door to the room opened and the blond male vampyr stood holding a tray of food.

  He was handsome with shoulder-length hair and a stubbly c
hin giving him a rugged appearance. Memories of pressing up against him in the club and the feel of his sinewy muscles, which bunched and coiled beneath his clothing—

  “I thought you might be hungry.” He stepped into the room and set the tray on a small table.

  “I’m not,” she lied.

  He looked at her and his brows furrowed.

  “What?” She eyed the tray of food.

  He shook his head. “Nothing, I just thought your eyes were a different color. At the club, they looked purple but they’re not. They’re jade green.”

  Dammit. It was happening again. “Where am I?”

  “You’re at the tracker’s compound.”

  “Do you know Mason?”

  “Yes.” Neeman crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the wall.

  “Can you call him?”

  He looked at her quizzically. “I already did. We’ve had this conversation, remember?”

  Crap. Selene crossed her legs and put on her best annoyed face. “Well?” she finally asked. “What did he say?”

  “He said he didn’t own any slaves.” The blond shrugged.

  Selene jumped to her feet. “But did you tell him my name?”

  “Yup.” He watched her closely, making her cheeks heat.

  Sheesh! He was infuriating. “And?”

  “He said he’d come down and take a look at you.”

  “Take a look at me?” Selene’s anger blossomed. Her cheeks flushed with heat and she rubbed at them in annoyance. “You’d think I was a dog at the pound.” She turned from him and his icy stare.

  It didn’t matter. What mattered was Mason was coming and he’d see her and take her to his house. Then they’d take up where they’d left off. Hanging out and doing whatever they wanted.

  “Why did you lie?” the vampyr asked.

  “What?” She spun to face him.

  “Why did you say you were his slave when you aren’t?”

  “Because…” She didn’t even know his name.

  “Neeman.”

  “What kind of name is Neeman?”

  “What kind of name is Selene?”