State of Independence Read online

  He lifts my arm, and pinches the underneath bicep. “Make sure every meal you eat has high-quality protein.”

  I roll my eyes. “And as a vamp you know a lot about nutrition?”

  He drops my arm. “Insolence will not be tolerated in the training room.”

  “Fine.”

  “Your lack of respect is incredibly irritating. Address me as ‘sir’ when you speak to me.”

  “Yes sir.” I can play nice.

  He nods. “Show me what you know.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Not much. Some basic boxing.”

  “Show me.”

  I walk over to the hanging bag.

  I do all the punches I know, adding a kick at the end.

  When I turn around, Lucian’s bland expression doesn’t betray his thoughts.

  “It’s something.”

  “I can also fire a rifle. I practiced shooting cans…” I trail off because I was about to say: ‘with Grayson.’

  I’m not one hundred percent sure what Queen Kaida or Lucian’s game is here and I don’t want to give away too much detail. Definitely want to keep my personal life, the pack I came from and all that to myself for now.

  “We start with basic self-defense. Street fights are never even-sided. So you’ve got to learn how to fight dirty.”

  He walks over to the large cleared mat-covered space. His hand points to the space in front of him.

  I take my place in front of him. And then find myself inexplicably falling hard on my butt.

  He has swept my legs out from under me so quickly I barely register the movement.

  “First lesson,” He straightens to his full height, “never let your guard down.”

  Chapter 16

  “It’s a sword.”

  Five months of hard training, street fighting to krav maga, handguns to sniper rifles, and everything in between and now this? A wooden sword?

  His eyes are expectant.

  “What?” I smile around the question.

  His facial expression is no less serious.

  Hardass. “Go ahead and pick it up.”

  I laugh outright. “Seriously? You want to train in swordplay?”

  The truth is, he probably grew up wielding swords. Hell, he might have really used them in battle. He’s old. Way older than Grayson.

  The thought slaps me out of nowhere. After all this time, I still can’t get him out of my mind?

  “Yes.”

  “C’mon. Haven’t you heard? Never bring a knife to a gunfight?” I give him bang-bang finger guns to emphasize my point and move past HIS face in my memory.

  He shakes his head at me. “This is non-negotiable, Indy. Pick. Up. The. Sword.”

  “Ugh. Fine. But for the record. This is entirely ridiculous. Nobody uses swords anymore. It’s a dead art.”

  How old is he anyways? I decide now is not the time to ask.

  If I am learning an ancient art, I might as well learn it from a master.

  “Your subversion is noted.”

  I wrap my hand around the wooden hilt and I lift it in a jaunty salute to Lucian. The weight of the wooden sword is heavier than I expect.

  He doesn’t seem to find my sauciness funny.

  “First, grip it like this. Now we will warm-up the wrist.”

  I follow his movements as best as I can. The rotating, the strengthening.

  “Good. Now. The basics. There are eight basic strikes you will be attempting.”

  He demonstrates each one on my body with his own wooden sword.

  “Now. Show me.”

  We work two hours on the basics of swordsmanship. Although not as fun as nailing targets on the range, I do find it easy to focus and follow Lucian’s voice through different movements. It’s almost zen-like listening to his voice call out specific movements he wants me to do.

  I break out in a nice sweat, using muscles in my core and arms that don’t get used the same way in the boxing ring.

  When he calls out the end of it, my left bicep is shaking with effort to keep the dang wooden sword up.

  “Tomorrow we train with the right.”

  He’s a sadist. My right is always the awkward side, the weak side. The scarred side.

  I am not looking forward to holding a sword up with that side. But I’d rather stick a fork in my eye than admit it. Pun fully intended.

  I replace the wooden sword on the table and grab my bottle of water.

  I lift it to my lips and study Lucian out the side of my eye.

  His arms are folded over his chest. He’s studying me.

  “What?” I wipe my lips with the back of my hand.

  The eye patch over his left eye makes it hard to read his emotions. Or maybe he just has a really damn good poker face.

  “Nothing.” He shakes his head, walking out the door without expounding on his study of me.

  Chapter 17

  Six months later...

  Night. I smell him before I see him. Cedarwood, lime, and the subtlest hint of blood.

  “Lucian. What brings you up here?”

  I’m posted on the rooftop across from the hotel, sniper rifle at my shoulder, doing back door guard duty. It’s boring, but it's what I’m paid for.

  The air has finally shifted to bring in the most mellow relief from the humidity.

  It reminds me of home.

  “She’s asking for you tonight. Can you handle it?”

  His form squats beside me in the darkness. Rich clothes are quiet. Vamps are quieter. The two together make him a silent killer. Good thing we’re friends.

  Kind of.

  “Yeah. I can handle it. What’s on the itinerary?” Personal security guard details are really only needed if she’s going out or she’s entertaining.

  “It’ll be a short audience with King Jael from the eastern territories.”

  Out the corner of my eye, I see three dark SUV’s turn down the back alleyway.

  “Incoming. Three vehicles approaching from the east.” Our point man at the entrance to the alley speaks over the radio.

  “Copy that.” King Jael’s already here then.

  We watch the slow procession. The entourage open the doors. Men in dark suits.

  The third one out has to be King Jael. His blonde head stands about a foot taller then the two in front of him.

  He walks to the door with entitlement. Just before he goes inside, he turns his head and lifts his eyes to where Lucian and I are on the rooftop.

  He can’t possibly see us with the distance and the cloak of darkness. But the tiniest shiver of knowing pulses briefly at my spine. The lion has spotted his gazelle.

  “I’ll take over here.” Lucian’s voice draws my eyes back to him.

  “Alright. Anything I should I know about this Jael guy?”

  “Just trust your gut.” Sage words from my warrior mentor.

  I sling the AR that’s been sitting next to me over my shoulder. It never hurts to be prepared.

  I have a silver knife in my left boot. An iron one in my right. At the small of my back is a nine millimeter. I’ve got a custom ballistics vest on over my long sleeved black knit t-shirt. I’m as prepared as I can get.

  I climb down from the rooftop. Enter the building the same way King Jael did. It’s the only entrance on this side of the block.

  “Hey Claxton.” I nod to the guard just inside the back door. He gives me a nod, and buzzes the inner door so that I can proceed through.

  This leads to the pool and old-world style courtyard. Plush palms and citrus trees surround the heated pool. Small wisps of mist are curling above it.

  Through the set of doors directly ahead, I see King Jael and his entourage being greeted inside the lobby. I turn right, using a back staircase to get to the second floor.

  At the top of the stairs another guard stands. It’s Calum.

  “She’s in her rooms. She asked that you go on up.”

  I take the service elevator and am greeted by another guard at the top.

  H
e gives me a nod, and I enter her personal rooms with the subtlest of knocks.

  “My Queen, you asked for me?”

  The main room is a grand sitting room. Just as I had seen it the two times I’d been here before. A couch, a loveseat, and a two wingbacks set up in a conversational way in front of the fireplace. It’s lit. Bar in the corner, far wall with windows.

  I scan with my eyes, looking for her. Her maid is in the bedroom. Laying clothes over the bedspread. Kaida is sitting at her vanity. Our eyes meet briefly in the mirror.

  “Independence. Come in.”

  I take the few steps to the entranceway of her bedroom, but don’t step through the threshold.

  She’s dressed ridiculously. The pinnacle of fashion as always. Cool silk and high heels. No simple yoga pants and t-shirts for our queen.

  Her appearance is a direct contradiction to her real nature. No, her allure, sophistication, sex appeal are all a mask for her manipulative and deadly reality. The pretty hiding a raw ugly underneath. I’d only had glimpses of her quiet killerness - but it was enough. She didn’t become queen by polite machinations alone.

  And even though guard duty chafes, I’ll do her bidding for a time. She’s given me a chance. The skills I need to survive on my own in this world. It’s a symbiotic relationship.

  “Monsieur Rivera will be joining me shortly. As my only female security agent, I want you to be my personal bodyguard tonight.”

  “Of course, my Queen.”

  “I don’t expect any trouble, so you’ll be posted outside. Give your gun to Peter. Our meetings are strictly no-weapons.”

  I want to ask how I’ll protect her against a vampire two feet taller and a hundred pounds heavier than me with my bare hands...but if she believes in my hand-to-hand that much, I’ll not dispute it.

  “Yes, my Queen.”

  I give Peter, the guard outside the doors, my AR and nine mil. He accepts them with a nod, and descends. He doesn’t ask for the blades in my boots, so I don’t mention them. It’s a secret kind of comfort. I cross through to the main doors, the ones that lead to the inside small hallway with the main elevator.

  I take my post and wait. And wait.

  Finally, the elevator dings and the door opens.

  Jael steps out with a sinister smile at me. “So you are the wolf-girl, huh? Queen Kaida's prize?”

  How does he know about me? I study his face, his eyes. I can see the cloud of evil intent there.

  Whatever his purpose here tonight, it’s not good.

  Am I her prize? I hardly think so. She’s got Lucian. And if there’s one thing I learned from him in the past year - its that he is the baddest mother fucker in all the land.

  “Maybe you and I will get a chance to know one another better once the business at hand is finished.” He says when I don’t answer.

  Ew. Just ew. I squash the urge to roll my eyes and rap my knuckles hard on the door wanting to get this perv out of my sight.

  It opens and I catch the scent of magnolias and gardenias.

  “King Jael.” I announce to the maid. As if we were expecting anyone else.

  She steps back and I do as well, catching sight of the queen artfully posed on the chaise.

  The door closes and I resume my post.

  For a while, their voices drift quietly through the door. Indistinguishable tones of femininity and a deeper baritone.

  I stifle a yawn. I’ve not totally adjusted to the night schedule.

  Out of nowhere, I hear a crash and tinkle of glass on the floor. A scream cut short. The maid?

  “My queen?” I speak into the closed door, “Is everything alright?”

  Could be the serving maid was simply a snack for tonight’s tete-a-tete.

  But, there’s no answer to my question.

  I swing the door open. On the floor, the maid’s lifeless body, twisted in a way I know means death, is the first thing I notice.

  Jael’s dark-suited back is to me, the form of Kaida bent beneath him.

  In a pose reminiscent of Dracula, he’s at her throat, pulling deeply of her life blood. Her palms beat uselessly at his back.

  I don’t hesitate, sprinting to them, grabbing up the sword that always rests on the sideboard in my right hand. In one swing his head leaves his body.

  But, I’ve miscalculated how close she was to him. Or just how long of a blade this sword has. As his body drops, she is revealed, cupping the slice at her throat.

  “Shit!” I drop the sword and close the distance between us. I use my hands to cover hers, applying pressure. Her blood leaks through our combined fingertips.

  Her eyes are neither frightened or panicked. Somehow we make it to the floor, me cradling her in my arms.

  Have I cut her vocal cords?

  I call out for help.

  Her hand on my cheek.

  I know what I have to do.

  I give her my wrist.

  And her teeth sink into my flesh.

  I look away, and the sight that greets me is another I don’t want to see.

  A headless Jael. Handsome waste. Spine and viscera clearly visible.

  My vision grays. My nausea spikes. A clammy sweat pops out on my forehead.

  I turn back to the pull at my wrist. Her flesh has almost completely knitted itself back together.

  It’s dusky pink scratch, lightening up as I watch.

  She let’s go of my wrist and stands in a fluid movement, wiping her lips politely. It’s an incongruous gesture being that her entire front is a crimson stain.

  I put my feet underneath me, but only make it to one knee. The blood loss has made me wobbly.

  Pounding at my temples. No. Feet pounding into the room.

  “Lucian. Take her.” The queen’s words above my head. Direct orders.

  Arms come around me. He lifts me easily.

  I protest with a grunt, a head shake. “I can walk.” My feet hit the ground, but my arm stays around his shoulder. His arm around my waist, supporting me

  Into the elevator where he swipes a key card against a hidden panel.

  “I’m sorry, Lucian. Did I really fuck it up?” Killing a king of another territory.

  That’s gotta be really bad. Not to mention almost killing my queen. First night on a special guard assignment and this is what I do. I’ll lose more than a job. What if they send me away? Where will I go then?

  He doesn’t answer, but his eye has changed to the yellow-gold of his vampire.

  He lifts my wrist to his nose. Inhales deeply. Breathes out against the flesh there. The echoing sting of fangs in flesh is there. The stain of my blood is there. But there’s barely two pink dots where she opened the skin.

  It sends a thrill, a warning, dropping from my stomach to my lower region.

  It's a vulnerability letting a predator so close to a vital artery. The adrenaline from the events of a moment ago are mixing with something carnal now.

  “Tell me what happened. Why did you use the sword.” His lips brush the skin that had just been so recently opened. The tips of his fangs are visible.

  “It...uh…” This is a vampire in bloodlust. And I am in a small inescapable space with him.

  He closes his eye. Drops my wrist from the front of his face, but keeps it clasped between his fingers. “Go on.”

  “It was the closest thing to me.” There’s no air in this small box. “It all happened so fast. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill him...”

  His lips press together at the same time to elevator stops.

  His eye opens, back to it’s normal light whiskey brown. He lifts his head and inhales deeply before pulling me off the elevator.

  I can feel the press of earth around the space. It’s a short hallway, lit with old iron sconces, retro-fitted with electricity and those flickering light bulbs they sell to look like gas flames.

  Guess I get to see the deep, dark dungeon now.

  He tows me down the small hallway. The walls are exposed brick.

  Turning a corner, w
e meet a set of big wooden double doors. Lucian presses his key card into another hidden panel behind the wood.

  The locks click audibly.

  He pushes the doors open with quite a shove. Heavy.

  It is a small sitting room, no windows, but quite a few doors spaced evenly along the walls. He closes the door behind us. Grabs my hand up and tows me over to the left wall which holds only one door.

  He opens it with a hand scan on a panel.

  Inside is a bedroom and attached bathroom. Everything is normal, with the exception of the style is super old world. Thick velvet curtains hang around the bed.

  “Get in the bathroom and get cleaned up.”

  In the bathroom, I’m thankful the style modern. It’s gleaming gray tiles and white paint. I note the luxurious fixtures. The space is immaculately clean, with the faintest hint of Lucian’s scent. The tile shower has three showerheads. Two on the wall, and one up above. Fancy rain shower.

  I un-Velcro the ballistics vest from my side and lift it over my head. No blood on it, it can be saved. I peel my shirt over my head, and reach into the shower enclosure to turn the knob.

  I take my boots and pants off, and my underwear and bra, leaving them all in a heap on the floor.

  I step into the shower enclosure, letting the warm water hit my face. Small tremors are shaking my muscles. Shock and blood loss.

  I brace my hand on the tile, feeling more grounded with that small support.

  I hear a door open and close. I lift my head.

  Lucian has pulled a towel from the cabinet. He sets it on the countertop.

  The warm steam billows around us. His eye tracks down my body and back up it.

  “Stay here. I’ll be back with food and clothes.”

  I nod my head, unable to process what I’m seeing in him.

  He strides out, and I reach for the shampoo. I mechanically wash my hair, my body.

  My hands on my body soothe. My fingertips dip. I thrum my clit.

  As a healthy young woman, I’d explored my body, found out what made it tick. Found out how to orgasm. That look he gave me replays on the back of my eyelids.

  He wants me. It’s a hedonistic power surge.

  I have mad-respect for Lucian. I appreciate his good looks. I like his personality. His understated humor.