Home > Forbidden Nights with a Vampire (Love at Stake #7)(31)

Forbidden Nights with a Vampire (Love at Stake #7)(31)
Author: Kerrelyn Sparks

"He's in the security office with Jack. They're watching us." Phineas motioned toward the surveillance camera above the bed. "Connor's looking through the Malcontent database to figure out who this Hermes dude is."

"I'm done," Connor announced as he strode into the room. He gave the prisoner a challenging look, then referred to the clipboard in his hand. "Hermes is Polish, about four hundred years old, and he fought on the wrong side of the Great Vampire War of 1710."

"Fuck you," the prisoner growled.

Connor arched a brow. "As you can see, his English is somewhat limited."

"What's his name?" Phil asked.

"Sigismund."

CHAPTER 12

Phil growled low in his throat as he unleashed his Alpha power. Because of his blue eyes, everything took on a luminous blue tint. His sight sharpened until he could see each vein in his prey's neck. Smell the fear emanating from him. Hear his heart racing like a scared rabbit.

His form wavered on the brink of an instant shift. He controlled it for now as he stalked toward his prey.

Sigismund pressed back against the table. "What - What kind of shifter are you?"

Phil allowed his face to change. His nose and jaw crackled as they elongated. His canine teeth sprang out. He snarled.

"No!" Sigismund fought frantically against his restraints. He shot Connor a desperate look. "Call off your wolf!"

Connor shrugged. "He's no' my wolf."

Phil halted in front of the prisoner. A primeval urge to kill swept through him, more powerful than he'd ever felt before. In the past, he'd killed animals while in wolf form. Werewolves always enjoyed a good hunt when the moon was full. And he'd killed Malcontents while engaged in battle. But never had he been tempted to commit murder - till now.

Sigismund extended his fangs in a futile attempt to defend himself. Phil knew if he drew too close, the vampire would snap at him. But he was seized by a murderous rage that dismissed any threat. His body vibrated with raw power. With lightning speed he latched onto the prisoner's neck with one hand. He clamped down, squeezing with his superior strength.

Sigismund twisted his neck, trying in vain to bite.

Phil sent a flood of Alpha power down his arm, and his hand shifted. Fur sprouted. His nails elongated and curled into sharp claws.

Sigismund's eyes bulged with terror. "Call him off! Call - " He choked as Phil's claws punctured his skin.

Austin moved closer for a better view. "Holy shape-shifting, Phil! Only parts of you have shifted. And the moon isn't even full. How can you do that?"

Phil growled. In his current condition his senses were all heightened, but with his head shifted, he could no longer talk.

"He's an Alpha," Connor replied for him. "He has powers other shifters only dream about."

"Damn," Austin muttered. "I'm glad he's on our side."

"Oh yeah!" Phineas punched the air with a fist. "He's big! He's bad! He'll blow your house down, sucker."

Phil snarled as the scent of blood reached his elongated snout. Blood dripped down the prisoner's neck where his claws had penetrated.

Connor stepped closer. "Phil, can ye tone it down a wee bit? The prisoner canna answer our questions if he's unconscious."

Through a blue-tinted haze Phil realized the prisoner's eyes had grown dull. He retracted his claws, reined in his Alpha power, and with one last shimmer his body returned to full human form. He let go of the Malcontent and stepped back.

Sigismund gasped for air as he slumped against the chains. "Don't...don't let him hurt me. I...I'll tell you everything I know."

"Verra good." Connor nodded at Phil with an appreciative gleam in his eyes. "Well done, lad."

"You da man." Phineas gave him a knuckle pound. "Half man, half wolf, half son of a bitch."

Phil snorted. Technically speaking, all male wolves were sons of bitches. He wandered into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge. He was painfully aware of the admiring glances that Austin and Phineas kept aiming his way. Personally, he was embarrassed. Ashamed, even.

He'd worked hard at the Navajo reservation in New Mexico to achieve his Alpha status. His old shaman friend and mentor, Joe, had stressed the great responsibility that came with Alpha power. Phil had sworn to be true to the noble character of the wolf and use his powers to protect those who depended on him. He was to hone his skills so he would always be victorious in battle. In all things, he was to honor the wolf.

Never was he to use his power for personal gain or to exact revenge. He was a chosen one, destined to be a leader among his own kind.

And he'd nearly murdered a man out of rage. He recalled Vanda's words when she'd thought he had killed Max the Mega Member.

I understand the kind of rage that leads a person to take a life.

Was that what she was hiding? Had Vanda been so traumatized by the cruelty of war that she'd stepped over the line? She'd mentioned that Karl was the leader of the underground resistance, so it was logical to assume that Vanda had been involved in dangerous activities. The Nazis had sent wolves to kill her, so she'd clearly pissed them off. More of her words came back to him.

I don't want any more deaths on my conscience.

"Where is Casimir hiding?" Connor asked, bringing Phil's attention back to the present.

"He moves around, a different place every night," Sigismund rasped. "I need to feed."

"And I need real information," Connor replied. "Phineas, is there any Blissky in the kitchen?"

"I'll look." Phineas rummaged through the cabinets.

"I'm not drinking that synthetic piss," Sigismund growled.

"Ye doona have a choice." Connor sat in a kitchen chair close to the prisoner.

"Found one!" Phineas opened a bottle of Blissky and inhaled deeply. "I'd better test it to make sure it's all right." He took a swig. "Oh yeah, baby! Now we're talking." He filled a glass to the brim.

Phil located a straw and plopped it into the amber liquid. The fridge was full of plain synthetic blood, but he figured Connor was hoping the Blissky would loosen Sigismund's tongue. Since it was highly doubtful the prisoner had imbibed any whiskey in the last four hundred years, he would be hammered in no time.

"What does Casimir hope to accomplish here in America?" Connor asked.

Sigismund snorted. "What do you think? He came here to be your friend?"

"World domination," Phineas muttered as he approached the prisoner with the glass of Blissky. "You bad guys are so predictable. Don't you get bored with yourselves?"

Sigismund sneered. "We'll take great pleasure in seeing you all dead." He turned his head away from the glass Phineas offered. "Bring me a mortal."

"You don't know what you're missing, man." Phineas swirled the glass under the prisoner's nose. "Smells really good, doesn't it? Tastes like heaven."

Sigismund's nostrils flared and his fangs shot out.

"Hard to stop those reflexes, huh?" Phineas stuck the straw in Sigismund's mouth.

The prisoner slurped down all the Blissky in just a few seconds. Then he coughed, his eyes watering. His fangs retracted.

Phineas chuckled. "Good shit, huh?"

"Not as good as a mortal." Sigismund eyed the empty glass. "Bring me more."

Phineas snorted. "You don't want to admit it's good." He returned to the kitchen to pour another glass.

Phil noted there was color back in Sigismund's face. "How big an army does Casimir have?"

"Big enough to destroy you. And about to get even bigger." Sigismund smiled. "Casimir knows how to take advantage of your weakness."

"And what would that be?" Connor asked.

Phineas brought another glass of Blissky, and Sigismund drank it down.

He licked his lips. "You claim to be good because you drink synthetic blood. But if you lost your supply, you'd go right back to biting mortals. Then hundreds of vampires would realize how much they enjoy biting and never want to go back. They'll join us. You'll be so outnumbered, you won't stand a chance."

Connor stood. "You're planning to attack our supply lines?"

Sigismund snorted, then hiccuped. "We'll stop you from even making the crap."

All the Romatech facilities were in danger. Phil knew there were several in the United States. The one in White Plains supplied the East Coast, but there were others in Ohio, Texas, Colorado, and California.

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