Sweet Succubus Read online

  Instinct kicked in, and he roared, tucking in his head to lunge against the chain. When he failed to budge it, he reached deep inside for the strength to transform.

  “Turn, and we’ll kill you where you sit.” The voice, soft and deadly, and with slight European inflections, was one he didn’t recognize. But Max did recognize the steel beneath the words and resisted the primal urge to let loose his inner beast on his captors.

  Still woozy and struggling to regain his full intellect, Max shook his head experimentally and realized it wasn’t one leash, but two, pulling in opposite directions to keep him lowered to the floor.

  Again, Max raised his head, slowly this time, and blinked against the bright light, bringing focus to his eyes. He was in the living room of the compound, in the very center. Someone had cleared away the furniture. He knelt on the beige carpet, still naked after his latest chase.

  A sideways glance revealed Dylan and Joe held the ends of his chains wrapped around their fists, their expressions set and lethal. His gut twisted, betrayal tasting bitter after all he’d done to keep his spot on the Special Unit following the revelation of his true, were nature.

  Max’s lips curled, baring his teeth. Show the bastards the feral beast.

  “I’ve no patience for posturing.”

  Again, that damnable voice. Max slowly lifted his head to stare at the vamp who could only be Navarro, the Master from the Northwest Council.

  He sat in a chair facing Max. His dark sloe eyes narrowed as he stared.

  “Why am I chained?” Max asked, not surprised to find his voice hoarse, his throat raw. He recalled a struggle and choking.

  “The more appropriate question would be why are you still living?” Navarro asked, no hint of his thoughts in his even tone.

  Unable to glance around, Max sniffed to determine if others watched, but found no more nearby scents. Only the odor of death, overlaid with the musk of several wolves. Somewhere distant in the house. “They got inside the compound?”

  “Don’t give me a ration of shit, were,” Joe shouted, jerking on his chain.

  “You knew they were close?” Dylan asked from the end of his chain, his voice soft, but menacing.

  Max gritted his teeth, fighting for breath as the metal constricted around his throat. “I caught their scent and followed them—outside the gate.”

  “Why didn’t you radio to the others and sound the alert?” Joe jerked the chain again.

  “Bastard!” Max spat. “Comms were out.”

  “What did you do with the guards?” Joe asked, with another tug.

  Max gasped. If he ever got free, he’d tear his buddy a new asshole. “Not a fucking thing… Didn’t encounter any.”

  “How convenient,” Joe sneered. “And you didn’t question that fact?”

  “I sent Pia…to round up the guards. Slipped out the gate…wanted to keep their trail.”

  Joe wound the chain rope over and over his fist, coming closer. He leaned down, close enough so Max could see the golden discs of his eyes and his vampire fangs. “And did you find them, ole buddy?”

  “I think so.”

  The chain held by Dylan tightened.

  Max cursed. “I transformed. I remember impressions…of wolves. Several surrounding me…after I’d chased them a while.”

  “You were surrounded by wolves?” Joe asked, his voice low and deadly. “Must have been a family reunion. You don’t have a scratch on you.”

  “I…don’t…know why…they wouldn’t fight me,” Max panted, trying to draw in air past the constricting metal. “I smell blood.”

  Joe slammed his side. “Nice try, fucking wolf. Tell me you don’t know Darcy’s dead!”

  Max felt light-headed, ready to pass out, but turned to stare. “What the fuck?” His throat closed so tight, the words were forced.

  “She’s dead, were!” Joe shouted, his face red, tears filling his eyes. “And I’m gonna fucking kill you myself!”

  “You think I—” The look on Joe’s face said he didn’t care if Max had been the one to hurt Darcy or not. He wanted blood.

  “Pia?” Max whispered. “Pia’s…all right?” He struggled to get to his feet.

  “Stay on your knees and clasp your hands behind your back.” This came from Navarro, who’d watched the whole inquiry in silence. “Loosen the chain a little, Joe. I don’t want him dead…yet.”

  Max glared at his rescuer, but complied with his orders, and when the chain relented, he dragged air into his burning lungs.

  A radio squawked. “Dylan!” Emmy’s voice broke over the air.

  Dylan unclipped a radio from his belt with his free hand. “What’s up, Em? Did you reach the limo?”

  “Yeah.” Emmy paused to clear her throat. “But tell Navarro the driver and Sidney are both out cold. And Dylan, Dr. Deats and his colleagues are gone.”

  “Mother-fuckin’ bastards,” Joe swore.

  Dylan aimed a deadly glare at Max and spoke into the radio. “Hot-foot it back here—”

  “Already pulling through the gates, baby.”

  Navarro’s eyes closed momentarily, and then he stood. “Bring everyone here,” he said, enunciating so precisely the Spanish inflections in his voice sliced the air. “Lock down this place. And then I want everyone in this room. Get this dog some clothes.” He left in the direction of the front of the house as tires squealed in the distance.

  Max slumped to his knees. “Darcy was killed by a wolf?”

  Joe didn’t answer, but his breaths grew choppy.

  “I swear, I didn’t know. I wasn’t part of this.”

  “Save it for someone who gives a damn. Far as I’m concerned, you’re a walking dead man.”