At least that’s what Caine had assumed at first.
But after seeing him beat the shit out of Kale, Caine knew better now and of course, couldn’t help grinning every time he thought about it. An untrained Pyte, one without any military training as far as he knew, had beat the shit out of Kale Quinn, packless Alpha shifter, deadly mercenary and pain in the ass without having to go into bloodlust. It should have been damn near impossible for Christofer to land a blow against Kale, never mind beat the shit out of him.
Kale was a very old and very powerful shifter. His control was legendary. He could harness the strengths and abilities of his werewolf form without actually having to shift. It was something that no one else had been able to accomplish….
Until now that is.
It seemed as though Christofer not only had the ability to keep a tight leash on his control, but that he could harness the uncontrollable strength that bloodlust provided without actually having to fall victim to it. That is of course, unless his mate was involved. She seemed to have the uncanny ability to rattle him, but then again, Caine’s mate had the same effect on him.
“I didn’t realize that she knew absolutely nothing about our world. I thought she’d already figured out that part from her recovery,” Ephraim bit out, glaring straight ahead as they waited for the elevator doors to close.
“You know what they say when you assume…….” Caine murmured, chuckling when Ephraim shot him the finger as he leaned back against the elevator wall. He pressed the button for the fifth floor, the guest floor, when the door still hadn’t shut a few seconds later.
“Madison didn’t become cut happy after she’d been turned,” Chris pointed out in a helpful tone, but Caine caught the familiar glint of mischief in the Sentinel’s eyes. He knew Chris was just trying to push his father’s buttons, something the Sentinel seemed to really enjoy doing.
Ephraim’s eyes narrowed on his oldest child as he snapped, “That’s because she knew what to expect, asshole.”
“Asshole?” Chris repeated back, doing his best to sound hurt as he pressed a hand over his heart. “Is that any way to speak to your favorite child?”
“Izzy’s his favorite child,” the shifter, who’d gotten his ass handed to him, grumbled as he stepped into the elevator to join them. He looked as though he’d like nothing more than to go back inside that penthouse and beat the shit out of the Pyte who’d kicked his ass.
“Puhlease,” Chris said, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the elevator wall. “He fucking loves and adores me. Worships the very ground I walk on and would be lost without me,” he finished off the familiar litany with a loud yawn.
After another minute of just standing there, too tired to torment Ephraim for his fuckup, Kale snapped, “Why aren’t we moving?”
“No fucking clue,” Ephraim said around a loud yawn as he reached over and pressed the button for the fifth floor again.
Muttering obscenities in Gaelic, Kale reached over and flicked open the cover for the first floor button, revealing a fingerprint scanner. He gestured for Ephraim to press his finger against the smooth piece of glass. “You can’t get off a restricted floor in a Sentinel compound without requesting access,” Kale explained as though they were all idiots and at that moment, he sure as hell felt like one.
He’d been working with the Sentinels for over twenty years and this was the first time that he’d heard about this. Granted, he’d never even been allowed on a restricted floor before so he had no reason to know about this security measure, but still…..
“How do you know about this?” Caine demanded, knowing that the shifter standing in front of him was the last person on earth that the Council would willingly share their security secrets with.
“I make it a point to know everything about my enemies,” Kale said, meeting his gaze head on and delivering the unmistakable message that the shifter definitely counted him as an enemy.
“Me too,” Caine said with a wink, letting the cocky prick know that he more than shared the sentiment.
In fact, that was one of first things he did upon deciding to stay at the Williams’ mansion with his mate. He’d investigated everyone living there, even the prick who came and went as he pleased. He knew all about Kale Quinn, probably more than most people. He definitely knew things that the shifter wanted kept secret and as long as the shifter stayed away from his mate and didn’t try to fuck her over, he’d keep those secrets.
Ephraim pressed his finger to the scanner and held it there for a minute before he dropped his hand away and sighed. “What time are we leaving in the morning?” he asked, sounding almost as tired as Caine felt, which was pretty fucking exhausted.
“Don’t fucking care,” Kale said, pulling out his iPhone. “I’m leaving tonight.”
“Tonight?” Chris asked, opening his eyes as he shot a frown at the shifter that they all tolerated for Izzy’s sake.
“Tonight,” Kale confirmed, looking bored as he scrolled through his messages.
“What about the Pytes we just left upstairs?” Caine snapped. “They need to know what’s going on. They need-”
“That’s not my job,” Kale said, barely sparing him a glance as he shoved his phone back in his pocket as he reached over and pressed the button for the lobby.
“Not your job?” Danni repeated in disgust. “How is that not your job? You’re supposed to-”
“Find them, capture them and deliver them,” Kale fired off rapidly, cutting her off. “Babysitting them and making them feel good about their fucked up existence isn’t part of my job description.”
“So, that’s the game plan?” Ephraim asked in a deceptively bored tone. “You’re going to hunt them down and deliver them to the Council with no questions asked?”
“Not a one,” Kale answered absently, pulling his phone back out when it chimed again.
“And what about Pytes like Christofer and Cloe who have no fucking clue what they are or what they’re getting themselves into?” Ephraim pressed on, asking the questions that they were all wondering.
“Pytes like Christofer can get their answers from whatever Sentinel is assigned to hold his hand,” Kale drawled, once again putting his phone away.
“And newly turned Pytes like Cloe?” Danni demanded, moving to get in the shifter’s face, but Caine knew his mate well enough to keep her right by his side.
“Will be exterminated before they draw their last mortal breath,” he said in that same bored tone that let them all know that he wasn’t fucking playing around.
“You fucking prick,” Chris growled, all signs of the playful exhaustion he’d been displaying only seconds before gone and in its place was the deadly Sentinel that most people learned not to fuck with.
Chris moved to get in Kale’s face, but before he could move so much as an inch, Ephraim was standing between them and in the shifter’s face. His eyes flashed red as he stared the shifter down. A muscle ticking in his jaw as he bit out, “Not. Fucking. Happening.”
“The Council won’t agree to that,” Danni hissed, struggling to get away from Caine and as much as he would love to tear the bastard apart, he couldn’t allow it.
He was still technically on probation and Kale, the fucking piece of shit, was the Council’s golden boy at the moment. He couldn’t chance getting his ass back on probation, not when he needed the Sentinel’s resources to make sure that Kale never got a chance to put his fucked up beliefs into action. He knew the shifter well enough to know that he wouldn’t hesitate in killing a child or a woman just to make sure that they never got the chance to reach their immortality.
“Really?” Kale asked, chuckling darkly. “Do you really believe the Council’s going to care if I kill a few unauthorized turns?”
No, he didn’t.
Chapter 28
“Ow! Stop!”
“Hold still,” Christofer demanded with an expression of determination that actually frightened her as he-
“Ouch!” she hissed as more shamp
oo seeped into her eyes.
“Stop opening your eyes,” he said, sounding drained as he continued to tangle his fingers in her hair, somehow forcing more shampoo to drip down her face and seep into her eyes and mouth.
“I can do this myself!” she snapped. She moved to take over when he stopped what he was doing to gently, yet insistently, push her hands away so that he could continue with the torture.
“Not with your hand still bleeding,” he patiently pointed out with a touch of exasperation, throwing the body part in question a pointed look that had her sighing and reluctantly moving her hand to hang over the side of the tub where he’d told her to keep it when he’d started this line of torture more than twenty minutes ago.
“About that,” she said, cringing when he accidentally yanked out a strand of her hair. He muttered a, “sorry,” but continued, unfortunately, with his self-appointed task. “Don’t you think it’s about time that we accepted the fact that I haven’t fully turned into what you are and go to a hospital for some good old fashioned stitches?” she suggested, raising her injured hand in front of his face and wiggled her fingers. Well, tried to wiggle her fingers, but the gauze that the bossy bastard had insisted on cocooning her hand in prevented her from moving any of her fingers.
He took her hand in his and gently placed it back where he’d had it, hanging over the tub before he continued washing her hair. At least, that’s what she’d assumed he was doing. He shifted by the side of the tub where he knelt and if her hand hadn’t been killing her, and she wasn’t starving and struggling to ignore the mouthwatering aroma that Christofer was giving off, she’d probably be able to appreciate just how good he looked in those black boxer shorts.
God, did he look good, so good, that all she wanted to do was to run her hands over him, caressing his skin as she mapped out every delicious muscle. She wanted to lick every square inch of his body, starting with that happy trail of dark blond hair that disappeared beneath his shorts and end with the spot on his neck that she constantly found herself staring at as she tried not to lick her lips, the spot where she could see his pulse beating just beneath the skin. Her stomach growled loud enough to draw her attention away from his neck and back to her biggest problem.
She needed to escape and ummmm, and…..ummmm……….
God, he smelled soooo good! Licking her lips, she allowed her gaze to drift back towards his neck, but the realization of what she was doing and thinking had her quickly shifting her attention back to the soapy water and squeezing her eyes tightly shut. She counted to ten and when that didn’t help, she counted to a hundred all while she tried to convince herself that the mouthwatering aroma that was assaulting her senses was coming from a double cheeseburger with the works and a side of crinkly fries and not from the man that was pouring more soapy water into her eyes and that she had every reason in the world to hate.
“Your hand will heal as soon as you drink some blood,” Christofer softly explained even as he poured more of that soapy water that was stinging her eyes over her head.
Annoyed, she moved to open her eyes to glare at him as she told him exactly where he could shove his advice, but was instantly forced to squeeze her eyes shut and squeal as a full cup of soapy water was poured over her face. It seeped into her eyes, causing her to do a combination of gasping and cringing as she frantically tried to wipe soap out of her eyes. She opened her mouth to ask for a towel so that she could wipe her face, but unfortunately, Christofer had chosen that moment to turn the shower on.
At full blast, making her squeal as she was hit with ice cold water.
“Shit!” Christofer groaned as he, thankfully, shut the shower off.
“Could I-abadowel?” she started to ask, only to have the rest of her question muffled as Christofer pressed a large, fluffy towel against her face and proceeded to smother her.
“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, pretty sure that he was trying to kill her as she somehow managed to push his hands away.
His frown was not adorable! she told herself with a glare as she snatched the towel out of his hands. When he went to help her with the towel, self-preservation kicked in and she slapped his hand away.
“Ow!” he grunted, but didn’t take the hint and get the hell away from her before she was forced to do bodily harm to him. “Let me help you,” he said, moving to grab the towel away from her again, this time ignoring her mad slaps.
“Ow!” she cried as he somehow managed to pinch the side of her left breast when he wrapped the towel around her and secured it. She opened her mouth to tell him to get the hell away from her, but as soon as she opened her mouth she ended up gasping for air and frantically yanking at the towel that he’d somehow managed to wrap around her so tightly that breathing became impossible.
It took a few frantic attempts, but once she finally managed to yank the towel off and sucked in several deep breaths, she shot him a murderous glare that quickly gave way to panic as she saw him sorting through a pile of combs and brushes. Knowing and fearing where this was going, she scrambled to get out of the tub and bathroom before he could get his hands on her, but sadly, he was a hell of a lot faster than her.
“Put me down!” she demanded, struggling in his arms as she did her best to fight her way to freedom, terrified for her precious hair and scalp that had no chance of survival if he got anywhere near them with the large plastic comb in his hand.
“Shhh, just relax, mein Schatz,” he murmured as she sat down on the edge of the bed and placed her down rather roughly on his knee. Before she could take advantage of the move, he had his arm wrapped tightly around her waist and was bringing that comb down towards her hair.
“Stop!” she demanded, grabbing hold of the hand that wielded that dangerous weapon and held it away from her.
With an exasperated sigh, he pulled his hand away from her and brought the comb closer and closer to her hair until she was left with no other choice but to scream like a girl.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded, cringing even as he moved to continue with his sick plans.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” she repeated in disbelief, slapping at the hand coming at her until she finally managed to knock the comb out of his hand. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded.
“Nothing!” he snapped, shooting her a glare as he tossed her onto the bed and moved to go get the-
Oh, hell no!
Before the thought even had a chance to form in her head, she found herself on his back as she attempted to place him in a chokehold so that she could-
“What are you doing?” Christofer asked as he easily peeled her off his back and placed her on the bed.
“Stopping you from your next attack, you sick bastard!” she snarled, more than ready to attack him again if he so much as looked in the direction of that comb.
“Next attack?” he murmured, looking adorably confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You are not scalping me!” she snarled, the shades of red sharpening as she felt the tip of one fang scratch her tongue, and for the first time since she’d woken up to discover that he’d turned her into a monster, she welcomed the creepy changes, hoping that she could use them to her advantage.
“Scalping you?” he repeated back as he shot a questioning glace at the comb before looking back up at her. “I’m not trying to scalp you.”
She snorted at that, shaking her head in disgust. “Just like you weren’t trying to strangle me when you helped me take off my clothes? Or you weren’t trying to drown me when you dunked my head under water? Or blind me when you kept pouring soapy water in my eyes? Or suffocate me when you-”
“I was trying to help you relax!” he snapped, looking so damn disgruntled that she was surprised to find herself fighting back a smile.
But, then his words sank in and she couldn’t help but frown as she asked, “Relax? How in the hell was being mauled relaxing?”
“I wasn’t mauling you!”
/> “Yes, you were!” she snapped back, tightening the towel around herself as she climbed off the bed, careful not to give him a peepshow, not that he hadn’t already seen everything.
“I was giving you a relaxing bath!”
She snorted at that as she stomped over to his bags and without bothering to ask for permission, tore through them until she found a grey tee shirt and a pair of plaid boxers that she could pull on. Once she was dressed, she stomped past him, picked up the comb off the floor and sat back down on the bed. She set to work on carefully combing the snarls out of her hair all while glaring at the bastard that was glaring right back at her.