Reign of the Vampires Page 8

  Neeman was hardest of all. As the leader of the squad, he was amazingly fast, and strong, which not all vampyr were. His reflexes surpassed the others, as if he’d been born a pureblooded Vampire, instead of turned. In the whole of the week, Mason hadn’t managed to hit Neeman even once. And there were times when Mason had tried, hard. The three other trackers who’d picked him up with Neeman were all expertly skilled, pure-blooded Vampires, but none of them as good as Neeman.

  Neeman insisted the trackers master their emotions. They were the coldest, most unfeeling Vampires he’d ever met. Not that he’d ever found Vampires to be overly emotional. But everything the trackers did was calculated and logical.

  Mason sat up and put his feet flat on the floor. The room was the nicest he’d been in, in a very long time. It was plain, but clean, with a large, all-white bed. The floor was a honey-colored wood. A table in the corner and a bookcase completed the space. The closet contained four different fighting outfits, as well as shoes. The bathroom had been stocked with soft towels and all the toiletries he needed. So many simple things that he’d taken for granted before the awakening and outbreak had occurred, simple things that no humans from his encampment would have again, unless they became slaves.

  Mason remembered where he was when the awakening had taken place. He’d been driving a semitruck across country. He’d stopped at a little greasy spoon and halfway through his meal the Vice President of the United States came on the television, explaining how a group of people still needed equal rights, and how as Americans they were both the history and the future of the country. After everyone revealed themselves as Vampires, all hell had broken loose.

  After the awakening and the wars, the hunts, and the rising death toll among humans trying to wipe out Vampires, came the V2000 outbreak.

  The fae had gone back to their own world, afraid of what the virus might do to them. Mason had no clue what happened to other supernaturals; he’d been hiding from his own kind for centuries.

  The Vampires gained control a year after the chaos started, forcing order upon the vamps. Mason had kept to himself. He went weeks on end without food, barely surviving.

  While raiding a town on his own, he’d saved a group of humans from a rogue vamp, and they’d begged him to join them. Hunger and loneliness had overcome his senses, and he’d agreed.

  And now here he was, being trained by Vampires to guard a Vampire. It was ironic. Mason would rather die then be in the service of a Vampire again. As soon as he was out of this facility, and in the house of Vampire who’d bought him, he was going to run. If they didn’t remove the collar, he would have to take his chances that he’d be able to remove it himself, or that he’d be able to withstand the electrical pulses.

  There was a knock on the door, and Mason looked at his clock. The Vampires shouldn’t be up for at least another hour.

  “Enter.”

  The door opened and a human slave named Kelvin held a tray of food, as well as a spiral-bound book.

  “Hey, Mason. I was told to bring you this book for some light reading before training tonight.” Kelvin set the tray on the table.

  “What is it?”

  “Laws of the society. To become familiar with how things work.”

  “Isn’t it the same as before? Don’t steal, don’t kill, no drugs?”

  Kelvin leaned against the wall. “Yeah, but it’s more than that, too. There are so many other things in the Vampire society that are considered off limits, as well. No Vampire may enter another Vampire’s domain without permission. Vampyr may have a minion or slave, but may not hold office. Stuff like that.”

  Mason looked at the tray of food and the book. His stomach growled. “Interesting.”

  Kelvin eyed Mason for a moment.

  “Did you need something?”

  “I overheard Neeman talking. He thinks you might be the best in the world by the time he’s done with you. Your master will be lucky to have purchased you. And you’ll give them their money’s worth. All ten million dollars of it.”

  “You heard about that?” He shook his head.

  “Everyone’s heard by now. You’ll be a star; you’ll also be a target. Slaves are off-limits to everyone but their masters. But if anything happens to your master, then you’d be fair game again. That’ll make your master a target, as well.”

  Mason wouldn’t mind Lord Garon being a target. He’d sensed the malice emanating off Garon all the way across his cell. For as much of a monster as Mason was, that Vampire was taq malsvir, pure evil. Mason had a brief flashback of a Vampire, old and vile, his white hair whipping in the wind as he bit down on Mason’s small neck. Mason had screamed in terror and called for his mother, but she hadn’t helped him, she’d never been able to help him again. He shook his head and the memory faded. Mason would need more than ever to learn to control his feelings. Especially about—

  “Do you know the redheaded Vampire lord?” Mason blurted out.

  Kelvin fidgeted and looked out the door. “Lord Danika?”

  “You know her then?”

  “As well as any slave can know a lover of their master. Lord Danika is a great woman.”

  “So Danika and Neeman—”

  Kelvin stiffened. “Lord Danika is a great coven lord.” Kelvin moved out the door. “I’ll let you read.” He closed the door behind himself.

  Mason rubbed his face with his hand. He hadn’t shaved all week, and the thick stubble prickled his fingers. Standing, he walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. His hair reached below his ears now, and hung in waves. He looked older than the last time he had seen his reflection. Not by much, not noticeable to humans, but noticeable to him. He was almost middle-aged now, but to humans he’d still appear no more than late twenties. He wondered how old Danika was. Her blood didn’t smell very old, just over a hundred, he would assume. And her body had been curvy and blossoming, like a piece of spring fruit in its prime.

  Laying his hands on the counter, Mason tried to still the beast that roared inside him at the thought of her. He couldn’t let this happen. He wouldn’t allow himself to become infatuated with a Vampire. He was never even going to see her again, so why think of her? Visions of her lush red lips plagued his thoughts. His heartbeat increased and his blood swirled in his veins. Throwing on the faucet, he plunged his head under the frigid water, causing his inner beast to make a hasty retreat. Back under control, he picked up the razor off the sink and grabbed the shaving cream where it waited. He would not have feelings for her. He wouldn’t.

  * * * *

  Mason sat down at the table, ten minutes later. The pep talk he’d given himself about Danika hadn’t sunk in all the way yet, but he had to keep it together.

  A bowl of rice and vegetables, some roasted chicken with the skin removed, a fruit salad, and a glass of lemonade waited for him. He was going to miss the food when he escaped, that was for sure. As he ate, he thumbed through the book and turned to a chapter labeled, The Laws of the Humans. It was the shortest of them all.

  He read the whole chapter in under five minutes. The basic conclusion was that humans had no rights, except for those given to them by their individual masters, and any offenses against a human slave were paid to its master. All humans were now no better than the African slaves brought over on boats hundreds of years ago. Now color was not the issue, species was.

  Chapter 8

  It’d been two weeks since Danika had purchased Mason, and her thoughts of him hadn’t diffused. Training William had taken less time than she anticipated, leaving her mind with time to fantasize about her sexy prize. Tonight after feeding from Matthew, she’d become more riled up than ever before. Between her hormones and her lack of gratification in over a year, her body was in need of a male. But her thoughts of Mason left her angrier still. How could she allow a human male to have such pull over her? She was a Vampire. A coven lord. There should be no human on earth that should have hold over her like this. She needed to pu
t to rest all thoughts and daydreams of him and the only way to do it was to see him and prove to herself that she was in control.

  The Tracking Squad had taken over the old Great Lakes naval recruit training center, and had converted it to both living quarters and a training facility. Danika pushed the button by the faded metal door, the solitary entrance and exit for the building. She glanced around the now deserted naval base. It had been one of the first places the Vampires had taken over when they’d claimed Chicago. Most of the original captured slaves had been holdouts on the base.

  A camera swung in her direction and she glanced up into it. A buzzer sounded, opening the door, and she stepped inside. Silence emanated from the large warehouse. Rows and rows of supplies were stacked everywhere. Danika stepped onto the gray cement and the door slammed with a crash behind her.

  Wrinkling her nose at the stale smell of boxes, she headed for the elevator. The sound of her clicking heels bounced off the walls as she walked.

  She was halfway across the room when the elevator opened and Neeman stepped out. His black tank top stretched tight against his broad chest. His sinewy arms flexed and relaxed. His blond hair was a bit longer than the last time she’d seen him, but his chiseled cheekbones and squared jaw were ever the same. As was his toned and tight body beneath the clothing. Danika’s body stirred. The same sexual flutter she always got around him tightened her stomach. Even after having ended things with him, the chemistry between them was still palpable. At least physically. Emotionally he’d never been there for her.

  Danika strode toward him. He stood rigid as a soldier waiting inspection.

  “How are things progressing?” she asked without pretense.

  “He learns quickly and has obviously had previous training. My concern is his quick temper. We’ve been working on it with meditation, but I’m afraid it won’t be cured in thirty days. If I had him for maybe six months—”

  “Thirty days, that’s all. And even that’s pushing it.” She pressed the elevator call button. “That’s why I’m here, to see how he’s doing.” The door opened and Danika stepped inside.

  “Is there something going on? Some trouble that you’re in?”

  “I simply don’t want to wait.”

  Neeman stepped in beside her and the elevator closed. Danika took a deep breath. Mason’s aroma assaulted her. That warm, rich smell. He’d been in the elevator recently. It made her mind whirl. The way that Mason’s smell affected her was so strong she was willing to take down Neeman, right there in the elevator, to sate her hormones.

  Neeman stood silent for a long moment before saying in a low voice, “He’s a good specimen for a human.” He watched her.

  She cleared her throat and pushed at her upswept hair. “Thank you.”

  “I understand why a woman of high position would be intrigued with such a human.”

  “Neeman, you know nothing of my intrigues and haven’t for quite some time. Say what you have to say,” she snapped. They’d reached the fourth level down and Danika stepped out of the overwhelming elevator to breathe.

  “All right.” He stepped beside her. “There’s something about him that’s inherently dangerous. Something I can’t put my finger on. Nonetheless, I don’t want you hurt.” Neeman stood close to her. Too close.

  “Will he do his job?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s all I care about,” she lied. “Now, you have a demonstration?” She looked down the long, narrow hallway.

  “Yes.” Neeman clenched his jaw. He walked without another word, though Danika felt he had several words inside he was bursting to unleash. Even when his anger or agitation was obvious, he bottled it up and shoved it down. Danika would love for him to unleash, if for no other reason than to see him lose himself for once. She doubted that he’d so much as raised his voice since he’d become a tracker.

  She and Neeman had tried to make things work for a decade. But in the end, his lack of emotion had been too much for her. She preferred a man with passion. Passion for her, money, something. Neeman’s training had stripped it all out of him. He was a good vampyr and a wonderful lover, not that she’d been with many males. But still, something had been missing.

  A door opened to a small waiting area with mirrored glass. She took her seat, above the training arena, trying to keep her face impassive and her heart in her chest. Mason stood in the middle of the arena floor. Neeman stared at her and again she thought he would say something, instead he ripped the door open, stepped through, and pounded out into the arena.

  She was a good twenty feet up. From her vantage point, she saw everything. Mason had a tight tank top on, making her breathing quicken. His torso and shoulders were a mass of golden-tanned muscles that tapered to his sculpted hips. The black pants he wore wrapped tight around his powerfully built thighs. As Mason stretched his arms above his head, the hint of a tattoo peeked over the neckline of his tank top.

  He turned, bent over, and stretched to his toes. The edges of two enormous, inky-black webbed wings stuck out the sides of his tank top. Even at her distance, what she saw of it had been masterfully done. Her breathing quickened as she wondered how big the wings were and how low they went. His round rear pulled his dark pants taut making a shiver skitter over her skin.

  What had she done? She covered her face. This was never going to work! Not if every minute she was with him, she wished he had his hands on her and her lips locked on his. She’d thought she could handle it. Though she’d fantasized about him these last two weeks she’d been sure that if she just saw him again that all those fantasies would disappear. She’d see that he was a mere human. And she’d be able to put her lust and hormones to rest and move on.

  But here she sat, staring at him through a piece of glass. And already her body tingled, her core ready to receive him. Her fangs descended into her mouth as he bent again, and she was once again faced with looking at his rear. This was bad, very bad. She was blood lusting after a human, and it was likely going to get her killed.

  * * * *

  Standing on the mat-covered arena training floor, Mason looked around and stretched. The walls surrounding the arena went straight up. He practiced his meditation while waiting. He controlled his breathing and focused on a single image, as Neeman taught him. Something that brought him peace, or at the very least an image of something that brought him pleasure. So Mason had picked a mountain top where he’d once been, topped with wild flowers and the sounds of birds in the trees. He still remembered the smell of the honeysuckle that grew nearby. But then she was there, in her black suit, her red hair flowing down her back in the sunlight, the pale face with the over-tired, bright, glowing blue eyes and full red lips.

  He envisioned her curvy body as she’d walked into his cell at the auction house: her black jacket tight on her slim waist and flared out over her round, supple hips, her toned legs under the black skirt, her calves and feet corseted into her black boots. The sight was almost more than he could take, and before he knew it, he wasn’t calming down, but heating up.

  The thoughts brought more images and sensations into his body. A stirring deep within gripped him, and he had to shake his head to stop from letting out a cry of longing. Stretching, he tried to calm down. He didn’t want to see her, didn’t want to want her. He slapped himself in the face, trying to clear his head. The door opened to the outer viewing chamber.

  Neeman pounded down the ramp and Mason was hit by a wave of the most magnificent aroma. He went on high alert as he inhaled the scent, and he realized that it was hers. Crap! Neeman was covered in Danika’s intoxicating aroma. It made Mason’s blood jump ten degrees. He had to stretch again to keep from staring Neeman down. Studying his shoes, he tried to get ahold of himself, but it wasn’t working. His mind raced. She’d been there; she’d seen Neeman. But why? When he straightened, a dark look sat on Neeman’s face, and he remembered Kelvin telling him that she and Neeman were lovers.

  “How about a bit o
f sparring, just you and me?” Neeman said.

  More like Neeman working off his frustrations with his female on Mason. He nodded.

  It was hard for Mason to concentrate with her scent lingering in the air. Every time Neeman got closer, it worsened. Repeatedly, Neeman landed a hit, kick, or both. And Mason took every one, blocking very few. After five minutes of getting kicked around, Neeman stopped.

  “Where’s your mind, Mason? These are moves that you learned to block over a week ago. Are you trying to let me hurt you?” Neeman asked.

  “I just... My head’s not in it tonight,” said Mason.

  “Not in it?” Neeman demanded. “Who cares about that? It’s your job to protect your master with everything you have. You don’t have anything else in your mind. You don’t think about anything else.” Neeman punctuated the last four words with a series of kicks at Mason. “You. Do. Your. Job.” Mason blocked the last three. Neeman nodded as he did so. “You have no wants. You have no needs. You have your master, and that is all. You protect your master or someone ends up dead. Now let’s go!” He rushed Mason.

  Mason forced his mind to concentrate on what was at hand. If he wanted to live through this night, he had to keep his head in the arena.

  They sparred for two hours, and Mason had been right. Whatever frustrations were stuffed inside of Neeman, he worked them out. In the end, Mason had lost by a bit, but not much. Neeman managed to plant three hard hits to Mason’s face, causing Mason a cut eye and a bloodied lip. Neeman’s fangs gleamed, and he stopped after the sight and smell of Mason’s blood dictated he remove himself from the arena. Neeman excused himself, glanced up toward the viewing area, then headed up the ramp. Mason backed away, wiping the sweat and blood from his body with a towel.

  * * * *

  Mason performed poorly in the beginning for some reason, but after they started again, he was as good as Neeman. Danika was forced to unbutton her blouse and fan herself, watching the two males spar.