“Sheesh.” Willis huffed. “This is like the romance crap you read about in books.”

  Cain turned to look at the stupid human and cursed the fact that he needed the man for his plan to come to fruition. “You’ve learned about vampires, werewolves, and other supernatural creatures, and this is what surprises you?”

  “Have you heard about the divorce rate in this country?” Willis pushed away from the wall and stood up straight. “Soul mates are not something humans get to experience. And women dream about that kind of thing their whole lives only to grow up and realize that there isn’t some special someone out there for them. Just a whole lot of possible significant others that can’t get past their own selfish needs in order to make a relationship work. It’s painful shit. How cool would it be to have someone out there made just for you? Women want that.”

  “And apparently human men as well,” Cain muttered dryly. He watched the scientist moving things around on his table. “I’m assuming you’ve experienced a failed relationship recently based on your little speech?”

  Willis shrugged. “I learned the hard way that some women only want one thing. And it is in your pants, but not the front. It’s the billfold in your back pocket.”

  “Ahh, yes.” Cain chuckled. “Many humans do seem to be driven by sex or money, and sometimes both. It’s a curious thing that any of you have successful relationships.”

  “Do vampires?”

  “That type of relationship is not something any vampire seeks,” he answered. “Our drive to prey on others is powerful, stronger than any animal predator. And since we are not born, there’s no instinct to reproduce.”

  “Is there no drive to create more vampires?” Willis asked. His inquisitive nature is probably what drove him to become a scientist. “Or is that something you just do because there is safety in numbers?”

  Cain had to think about the question. These weren’t things he’d ever really considered or discussed with anyone before. “I think the desire increases the more new vampires one sires.”

  “Are the ones you have sired… I’m not sure what to call them … children?”

  “That’s as good a term as any.”

  “Okay, children. Are they bound to you in some way? And yes,”—he held up his hand—“I got that idea from a television show. Sue me. I like paranormal crap.”

  This wasn’t exactly a revelation to the vampire king. Cain guessed Willis had an interest in the paranormal when he didn’t freak out when Cain approached him. Instead, the human was fascinated by everything Cain had told him. “Yes, my children are bound to me. And that is one reason I’m attempting to merge my kind with wolves.” Cain didn’t know why he was sharing this part of his plan. And he wasn’t about to psychoanalyze his motivation for doing so. Cain was old enough to have dozens, maybe hundreds, of what humans would consider mental health issues. He’d been a vampire for so long that he didn’t even remember what it was like to be human. Hell, when it came right down to it, he was a parasite, a being that lived off the blood of others. Who wouldn’t get a complex from that kind of life? These were the kinds of things he kept to himself.

  “One of our greatest weaknesses is the fact that those we sire are bound to our fate. If I die, then any vampire I have directly created will die as well. So”—Cain slipped his hands into his pockets and glanced at Finn to make sure there were no signs that he was waking up—“if in my very long life I make a thousand vampires, and I am killed, then all of those vampires die. As you can see, that would give the wolves, or any of our enemies, a significant advantage over us.” He frowned and then glared at Willis. “If you use that information against me, I will rip your intestines from your stomach and hang you with them. That will be a very long, painful death.”

  Willis froze and held his hands up. “Hey, man, no disturbing death threats needed. I’m firmly on team vampire king.”

  Cain rolled his eyes. “You’re a strange human.”

  “I’ve been called worse things.”

  The vampire king pulled out his phone and made a quick call. “I need you to come get a prisoner, Brock. He needs to be held in the most secure place you have. Why?” Cain pulled the phone down and looked at it as if the phone was the idiot who’d asked the question. He put it back to his ear. “Because he’s bloody dangerous and will tear a human limb from limb if given even the briefest opportunity.”

  Cain listened while the general complained about security and the withholding of vital information.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, General,” Cain snapped. “I thought we discussed the capture of a full-blooded Canis lupus. Did you think it was going to be a damn puppy that wanted to play fetch?”

  Willis snorted as he continued to rummage around his equipment.

  Cain sighed. “Just get some people over here as fast as possible to transport him.” He disconnected the call and tried not to crush the device.

  “He’s a douche,” Willis said. Cain had noticed the scientist used this particular moniker regularly.

  “If that means insufferable ass, then yes, he most definitely is.”

  Willis rubbed his hands together, looking like an eager child. “So, could you tell the difference in his”—he motioned to the unconscious wolf—“blood and hers?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “She has quite a lot of wolf blood. That’s probably why her blood is killing the vampire virus.”

  Willis pointed to the window. “Well, get to biting then.” He handed Cain a clipboard. “Write their number down and then rate them on a scale of one to ten. One being very little wolfy blood and ten being almost full-blooded. Then bring it back so I can pull the weak samples and start letting these cells get their dance on.”

  Cain glared at the male. “I don’t take orders from you. And what the hell does ‘get their dance on’ even mean?”

  “I’m not trying to give you orders,” Willis said. “I’m trying to refocus you. This whole situation”—he motioned to Finn—“seems to have derailed you a bit. And have you seen cells interact under a microscope? It’s fascinating, and it looks sort of like—”

  Cain held up his hand. “Forget I asked.” And then he pointed at Finn. “The only reason I seem derailed is because that was so unexpected.” Cain took a deep breath and headed for the door. “You’re correct. I need to get to work.”

  “Why don’t you have some of your other vampires help with the biting?” Willis made a chomping motion with his mouth that made Cain want to slap him.

  “Because not all vampires have the control to stop feeding before their food source dies.” Cain pulled the door open. “I can’t have out-of-control vamps drinking all our dormants dry.” He glanced at Finn again. “If he moves, stab him again with more of your tranquilizer.”

  The scientist waved him off. “I gave him something that could knock out a herd of elephants. Dude is going to be asleep for a while.”

  “Did I mention that Canis lupus cells metabolize drugs differently?” Cain asked just before the door closed, leaving Willis inside alone with the large wolf. He chuckled, knowing the scientist would scramble to have another injection ready for Finn. He probably shouldn’t attempt to scare his most loyal supporter, but it amused him, and so very little amused Cain these days.

  He carried the clipboard into the room and walked over to the first gurney. A number one hung from the pole that held the bag of nutrients being intravenously given to the male. For the first time in his existence, Cain was not looking forward to biting a human. He was actually satiated. The vampire felt no need to feed. Finn’s powerful Canis lupus blood had nurtured his continuously starving body. It had to be because of the wolf’s dominant nature. Perhaps he came from a powerful line of wolves. As he leaned down and turned the head of the human to expose his neck, Cain considered something that had never, as far as he knew, been done—keeping a full-blood Canis lupus as a food source.

  “Can we trust the vampire?” Colonel Douglas asked. He, General Brock, and a handful of other military members from different branches sat at a large conference table.

  “We don’t really have a choice.” Brock ran a hand down his face. He was sick of dealing with the arrogant vampire. “He has instructed all other vampires not to interact with us.”

  “He has that kind of power over the vampires?” Admiral Prescott asked.

  “He’s the vampire king.” One of Brock’s assistants, a man named Francis who followed Brock around like a loyal dog, said. Awe filled the diminutive man’s high voice. “There’s no telling what kind of power he has. Considering all the folklore we have on vampires, which I knew meant that they had to exist because all folklore comes from a form of truth, some of the things in books and movies have to be true. He can probably control them with his mind. Or maybe—”

  “Francis,” Brock barked.

  “Sir?”

  “Shut up.”

  Francis pressed his lips together and used his hand to make a zipping motion across them and then mimed putting a key in his pocket.

  I need a new assistant, Brock thought to himself for the fiftieth time that day.

  “Did I hear correctly that he has a full-blooded werewolf?” Chief Master Sergeant Orson asked.

  Brock nodded. “It appears so.” He glanced at Francis and smirked. “Hollywood got it right for once. Apparently werewolves are very strong.”

  “Knew it,” Francis whispered, but then quickly snapped his mouth closed.

  “I don’t know,” Brock said. “Cain claims the hybrids will be extremely powerful. The prospect of having an army of supernaturals such as these is … enticing. It would push our military might far ahead of any other nation.”

  “But?” Prescott inclined his head.

  “Well, the vampire obviously has to have an ulterior motive. People in power always do.”

  The males in the room chuckled. They should know. After all, they worked with politicians and leaders of powerful corporations and government agencies. Most of them were narcissistic assholes, and the rest were sociopaths and psychopaths. They just had more resources to hide the bodies and more money to buy silence.

  “Do we have people inside that we trust to feed us information on him?” Orson tapped his fingers on the table in an annoying rhythm.

  Douglas nodded. “What about the scientist?”

  Brock snorted. “No. He’s as fascinated with Cain as this one.” He pointed at Francis, who simply blinked cartoonishly.

  “We need someone in there, then.” Prescott rubbed his chin, seemingly lost in thought, and stared at the wall, which held the seals of each military branch.

  “I’ve got someone,” Douglas spoke up. His lips turned up in a grin. “My daughter.” When the others opened their mouths, probably to disagree, he cut them off quickly. “She’s a scientist working in stem cell research. I’m sure she could figure out a way to B.S. her way into the project without making the vampire suspicious.”

  Brock glanced around the table and saw that the others were considering the idea. He thought it was a great idea. A woman could often get information from a man that another man couldn’t. Whether it was attraction that made a man susceptible to a woman’s wiles, or just the fact that they were often easier to talk to than men, he didn’t know. But it was worth a try.

  “Pull her in,” Brock said. “I’ll get her clearance.”

  Francis slowly raised his hand and said in a small voice, “I could—”

  “No!” Brock, and everyone else in the room, said at the same time.

  The general pushed away from the table and stood, and the others followed suit. “We’ll meet again in two weeks. Hopefully by then your daughter will have some information for us.”

  Douglas lifted a hand. “That’s a little fast.”

  Brock lifted a brow at the other man as he asked, “Has the president been calling you in the middle of the night, threatening to take your rank away?”

  Douglas pursed his lips. “Point taken.”

  As they filed out of the room, Brock prayed to every god he could think of that Cain would finally make some sort of progress that he could present to the commander-in-chief. For some reason, the man was practically salivating to get his hands on these so-called hybrids. As he’d said before, he understood what an asset they’d be, but he knew there had to be some other reason the president wanted these vampire/wolf mixes. But no matter how much digging Brock did, he couldn’t find anything that might reveal the president’s motivations. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that whatever the reason, it wasn’t for the benefit of their country. “Why the hell didn’t I retire when I had the chance?” he muttered under his breath as the weight of his obligations pushed harder on his shoulders.

  Chapter 11

  “There are things in our past so painful that our minds protect us. Memories that are better left buried in the dark recesses of our subconscious. But sometimes our curiosity, our natural need to know, becomes stronger than self-preservation. Then we start digging. We begin to push through barriers that were never meant to be breached. We start breaking down the walls around those memories, not realizing the nature of demons we are releasing. By the time we do, it’s far too late.” ~Nissa

  “You shouldn’t be here, Nissa of the high fae.” Anuva, the djinn, stood rigid, his long, forest-green robes reaching the floor. The robe’s cowl only revealed the djinn’s severe face. He looked no older than a human male in his twenties, but his silver eyes spoke of a being so old he’d seen scores of civilizations rise and fall.

  “That is not the greeting I expected, Knowing One,” Nissa challenged. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask how I knew to come here.” Typically, Nissa was not an aggressive female. She believed in the human saying: you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. But she had been searching for certain elusive information for too long. She was tired of going in circles, and her usual inexhaustible patience was gone. Every clue she followed led to the same conclusion—her memories were gone. Jen suggested Nissa had hidden them from herself. That could have been true; the fae had that ability and sometimes used it in extreme circumstances. Alternatively, Nissa’s memories had been altered or stolen. Whatever it was, she needed to get her memories back quickly.

  If Anuva was offended by her response, he gave nothing away. The djinn’s face remained flat as he stared at her. “I am old enough to know that not everything stays hidden forever. Especially not with supernaturals.” Anuva’s voice stayed even. “Some of us live entirely too long, and that leaves us with surplus idle time. Our minds require stimulation. This need for the next diversion often leads us to search for things best left hidden.”

  Nissa shook her head. She strode farther into the large room. Her robes swished around her legs, sounding like dozens of whispering voices. “No. Everyone has the right to know their past. We must if that knowledge could affect us in the present.”

  Several tables were scattered throughout the dimly lit room, and Anuva walked over to one. He pulled out a chair, his movements deliberate and unhurried. As he took a seat, he motioned for her to do the same. “Please.”

  Nissa’s mind itched with the need to know about her past, and Peri’s as well. Weeks ago, Wadim had mentioned that he’d found information about an incident when cold fire had been used by a high fae. It had been thousands of years ago when she and Peri were children. And even though it had been so long ago, the fae had very long memories. It wasn’t something she should have forgotten. Nissa fought the urge to pace the room.

  She took the offered seat and rested her hands on the table, entwining her fingers, hoping this would keep her from fidgeting like a child.

  “What do you believe you need to know?” the djinn asked.

  “Several thousand years ago,” Nissa began, “Perizada and I were saved from cold fire by a draheim. I need to know what happened. Disir was aware of the incident though had no details. “

  Anuva nodded but didn’t offer any information.

  “The djinn are the history keepers of every supernatural race.” Nissa breathed out a frustrated sigh. “Thadrick’s memories are still damaged from Myanin’s meddling. But you are the history keeper of things long past. I know the job of history keeper rotates among your kind. But I also know some ancient memories are kept by other djinn. You can tell me what Disir couldn’t.” She watched him, waiting to see what he would say and tried to keep from holding her breath. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her palms began to sweat.

  Anuva simply stared back at her.

  Nissa fought the urge to slam her hands down on the table and demand he speak, but she would not resort to acting like a toddler. And she didn’t think it would get her anywhere with the venerable being in front of her.

  Finally, he spoke. “Why do you feel so strongly that you need this information? What is it you hope to glean from the knowledge?”

  Nissa lifted her chin and sat up straighter. “It’s my history,” she answered. “Whatever happened, it’s part of what made me who I am. Why wouldn’t I want to know that?” For a moment, Nissa second-guessed herself. Why did she feel so strongly about this? The knowledge hadn't affected her up to this point. Would knowing actually change anything? She shook her head, pushing away the uncertainty. “It could help us understand the nature of cold fire better. Not to mention explain why the draheim keep to themselves and choose not to have anything to do with the supernatural world.”

  “Until recently,” Anuva pointed out. “They helped Perizada find refuge, and one of their young saved her life. Isn’t that enough?”

  Anger flared inside of Nissa like a match being tossed on a puddle of gasoline. “Why are you hell-bent on keeping the information from me? What does it matter to you?”

  For the first time since Nissa’s arrival, the djinn showed emotion. His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed. “Even the fae, ancient as they are, have limited understanding. My kind aren’t just history keepers. We protect the knowledge as well. Something that you have clearly forgotten. Why would the djinn be so powerful? There must be a reason. Knowledge of the past is important. It helps guide us as we navigate the present and look forward to the future.”