Emory didn’t seem convinced. “How do you figure that? The minute they get wind of what we’re doing they’ll scatter.”
“No they won’t.” Diskant grinned menacingly, revealing his fangs, his beasts eager for blood. After they found his mate, the war was on. “Because they’ll all be dead.”
Trey came to awareness when he landed on an unforgiving surface. His head was swimming, making simple thoughts hard to latch on to. A loud click resonated in his ears, making the pounding in his temples a thousand times worse. Instinctively he took a deep breath. The air was earthy and dank, indicating he was underground.
Where in the hell was he? How had he gotten here?
The events that put him in a precarious situation returned: the store, a van, Shepherds.
Ava.
He held his breath when he heard low male voices, listening carefully to their hushed conversation.
“Keep this one caged. If things don’t go according to plan, we’ll need him.”
“Are we going to keep him sedated?”
“It’s probably best. We don’t want any problems.”
Problems. Shit.
He released the breath he was holding, relaxed and dredged in a lungful of air. Ava’s scent was sweet, like cinnamon and sugar. He searched for that unique fragrance, sifting through the stink of stale water from rusty pipes, the musky scent of dirt and the individual scents of the Shepherds in the room. For a moment he caught a small whiff of what he was searching for, but the smell was faint.
Damn. Was he picking up her scent off the Shepherds’ clothing? Or was she somewhere close by?
The shuffling of feet told him he couldn’t open his eyes to get a layout of the place. If they realized he was awake they’d put him under. This was so not fucking good. Diskant would go crazy when he discovered Ava had been taken. Her safety was now Trey’s responsibility. No matter what happened, he had to make sure he got her out alive.
Even if that meant dying in the process.
Remorse flowed through him, staggering in its intensity. There was a very real possibility he could die, his life cut short when he’d finally found a reason to greet each day. Images of Sadie flooded his mind, combined with a crushing weight in his chest. He wanted to find her, talk to her and pick up where they had left off. Now he didn’t know if it was possible or if he’d ever see her again.
Anger rolled through him, and he wasn’t aware he was growling until he heard someone striding in his direction. Trey opened his eyes and stared through the bars of the cage he was trapped inside, meeting the gaze of a Shepherd with a gun in his hand. He snarled and prepared to stand and the gun went off, sending a dart directly into the center of his chest.
Still woozy and off balance, Trey sank back to the ground, shaking his head. He tried to keep his eyes open, knowing there was no time to waste. Instead his lids drifted closed and his arms became heavy.
Just before he surrendered to oblivion, he allowed himself one final recollection of the mate he’d lost but never truly had. She’d been like a wounded fallen angel staring down at him, her blue eyes reflecting the misery he’d caused her. He wished he could take it back, if only to see the pain replaced with the desire.
He sank into a dark void, no longer able to fight the drug rushing through his bloodstream. As he did, he repeated her name in his mind, holding on to it like an anchor.
Sadie, Sadie, Sadie…
Chapter Eleven
Sadie.
The desperation in Trey’s voice disrupted her dream, jolting Sadie from a sound sleep. The dream seemed so real—too real. The way he said her name, as though he was saying goodbye, made her stomach churn. If he could reach out to her while she slept their connection was stronger than she’d thought. He was in danger, she could feel it.
Blessed Goddess.
She rolled from her bed and rushed to her wardrobe. During Trey’s absence she had monitored a small group of Shepherds that had come into the area. Some of them had taken to wearing clothing that allowed them to blend in with the residents of the city, moving into homes in lower-class areas to remain undetected. But most city residents didn’t wear cowboy boots, and “yes ma’am” and “no ma’am” weren’t common phrases used in New York.
Shepherds stood out if you looked closely, even if they tried to hide among the masses.
Could one of the groups hurt him? Take him somewhere? Had he dropped his guard long enough to let them get their hands on him? Granted, she hadn’t thought the delusional hunters were a threat just yet. Just shy of a half-dozen, they couldn’t possibly take out the shifters surrounding them. It would be suicide to try.
Damn it. You stumbled onto them by accident. How could Trey have possibly known they were in New York?
Why hadn’t she warned him when she had the chance? He could have told Diskant Black, who would have made sure the shifters under his protection were properly prepared. Why had she neglected to share something so important?
Because you were angry, and you ran from him like a scorned lover.
Her blood ran cold as her fangs descended, brushing against her lower lip—a result of her rising anger. If someone harmed him, they’d pay in blood. If anyone was going to inflict damage on Trey’s gorgeous body, it would be her. His words had hurt, lancing her chest, but she didn’t want him dead.
She’d just managed to slide into a pair of leather pants and pull a sweater over her head when one of her coven walked in. After she glanced up to confirm the identity of her guest, she continued getting ready. Leigh didn’t ask questions, she simply watched as Sadie went about her usual routine, fitting weapons into the sheaths on her legs before sliding into the harness that kept her sword in place on her back.
Sadie took a glance at her sister-in-magic, noting Leigh was too thin, too damn pale. The newest addition to the coven was a made vampire who struggled with her vampirism, as well as her newfound powers. Leigh had been nothing more than a kid who happened to be of mage lineage—something she didn’t even know until she was changed. Being converted was difficult enough but it was something that never should be forced, not on a twenty-two-year-old who didn’t even know supernatural things existed. That’s why the head of the coven had invited Leigh into their home, giving her a sanctuary where she could feel safe. Unfortunately over a year had passed and she still refused to acclimate to her surroundings.
She fought the change. Fought her magic. Fought who and what she had become.
Damn the maker who turned her and left her to survive on her own. If I ever find him, he’s going to be food for the fishes.
“What’s wrong?” Leigh’s voice was as soft as her features, the words light as a feather. She’d braided her long dark hair in a plait down her back. Her penguin pajamas were too big for her willowy frame, hanging off her like a sack. Like this, she looked like a teenager at a slumber party. Not like a vampire with the power to destroy someone if she wanted to.
“I have to go out,” Sadie said and guided her sword into its sheath. “Something’s happened.”
“To your werewolf?” When Sadie’s head jerked upward, Leigh laughed. “Don’t be so shocked. Everyone knows. In a house this small secrets come out.”
“I’ve been staying at the healing caverns to avoid gossip,” Sadie grumbled.