It’d been two weeks since Danika had purchased Mason, and her thoughts of him hadn’t diffused. Training William had taken less time than she anticipated, leaving her mind with time to fantasize about her sexy prize. Tonight after feeding from Matthew, she’d become more riled up than ever before. Between her hormones and her lack of gratification in over a year, her body was in need of a male. But her thoughts of Mason left her angrier still. How could she allow a human male to have such pull over her? She was a Vampire. A coven lord. There should be no human on earth that should have hold over her like this. She needed to put to rest all thoughts and daydreams of him and the only way to do it was to see him and prove to herself that she was in control.
The Tracking Squad had taken over the old Great Lakes naval recruit training center, and had converted it to both living quarters and a training facility. Danika pushed the button by the faded metal door, the solitary entrance and exit for the building. She glanced around the now deserted naval base. It had been one of the first places the Vampires had taken over when they’d claimed Chicago. Most of the original captured slaves had been holdouts on the base.
A camera swung in her direction and she glanced up into it. A buzzer sounded, opening the door, and she stepped inside. Silence emanated from the large warehouse. Rows and rows of supplies were stacked everywhere. Danika stepped onto the gray cement and the door slammed with a crash behind her.
Wrinkling her nose at the stale smell of boxes, she headed for the elevator. The sound of her clicking heels bounced off the walls as she walked.
She was halfway across the room when the elevator opened and Neeman stepped out. His black tank top stretched tight against his broad chest. His sinewy arms flexed and relaxed. His blond hair was a bit longer than the last time she’d seen him, but his chiseled cheekbones and squared jaw were ever the same. As was his toned and tight body beneath the clothing. Danika’s body stirred. The same sexual flutter she always got around him tightened her stomach. Even after having ended things with him, the chemistry between them was still palpable. At least physically. Emotionally he’d never been there for her.
Danika strode toward him. He stood rigid as a soldier waiting inspection.
“How are things progressing?” she asked without pretense.
“He learns quickly and has obviously had previous training. My concern is his quick temper. We’ve been working on it with meditation, but I’m afraid it won’t be cured in thirty days. If I had him for maybe six months—”
“Thirty days, that’s all. And even that’s pushing it.” She pressed the elevator call button. “That’s why I’m here, to see how he’s doing.” The door opened and Danika stepped inside.
“Is there something going on? Some trouble that you’re in?”
“I simply don’t want to wait.”
Neeman stepped in beside her and the elevator closed. Danika took a deep breath. Mason’s aroma assaulted her. That warm, rich smell. He’d been in the elevator recently. It made her mind whirl. The way that Mason’s smell affected her was so strong she was willing to take down Neeman, right there in the elevator, to sate her hormones.
Neeman stood silent for a long moment before saying in a low voice, “He’s a good specimen for a human.” He watched her.
She cleared her throat and pushed at her upswept hair. “Thank you.”
“I understand why a woman of high position would be intrigued with such a human.”
“Neeman, you know nothing of my intrigues and haven’t for quite some time. Say what you have to say,” she snapped. They’d reached the fourth level down and Danika stepped out of the overwhelming elevator to breathe.
“All right.” He stepped beside her. “There’s something about him that’s inherently dangerous. Something I can’t put my finger on. Nonetheless, I don’t want you hurt.” Neeman stood close to her. Too close.
“Will he do his job?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all I care about,” she lied. “Now, you have a demonstration?” She looked down the long, narrow hallway.
“Yes.” Neeman clenched his jaw. He walked without another word, though Danika felt he had several words inside he was bursting to unleash. Even when his anger or agitation was obvious, he bottled it up and shoved it down. Danika would love for him to unleash, if for no other reason than to see him lose himself for once. She doubted that he’d so much as raised his voice since he’d become a tracker.
She and Neeman had tried to make things work for a decade. But in the end, his lack of emotion had been too much for her. She preferred a man with passion. Passion for her, money, something. Neeman’s training had stripped it all out of him. He was a good vampyr and a wonderful lover, not that she’d been with many males. But still, something had been missing.
A door opened to a small waiting area with mirrored glass. She took her seat, above the training arena, trying to keep her face impassive and her heart in her chest. Mason stood in the middle of the arena floor. Neeman stared at her and again she thought he would say something, instead he ripped the door open, stepped through, and pounded out into the arena.
She was a good twenty feet up. From her vantage point, she saw everything. Mason had a tight tank top on, making her breathing quicken. His torso and shoulders were a mass of golden-tanned muscles that tapered to his sculpted hips. The black pants he wore wrapped tight around his powerfully built thighs. As Mason stretched his arms above his head, the hint of a tattoo peeked over the neckline of his tank top.
He turned, bent over, and stretched to his toes. The edges of two enormous, inky-black webbed wings stuck out the sides of his tank top. Even at her distance, what she saw of it had been masterfully done. Her breathing quickened as she wondered how big the wings were and how low they went. His round rear pulled his dark pants taut making a shiver skitter over her skin.
What had she done? She covered her face. This was never going to work! Not if every minute she was with him, she wished he had his hands on her and her lips locked on his. She’d thought she could handle it. Though she’d fantasized about him these last two weeks she’d been sure that if she just saw him again that all those fantasies would disappear. She’d see that he was a mere human. And she’d be able to put her lust and hormones to rest and move on.
But here she sat, staring at him through a piece of glass. And already her body tingled, her core ready to receive him. Her fangs descended into her mouth as he bent again, and she was once again faced with looking at his rear. This was bad, very bad. She was blood lusting after a human, and it was likely going to get her killed.
* * * *
Standing on the mat-covered arena training floor, Mason looked around and stretched. The walls surrounding the arena went straight up. He practiced his meditation while waiting. He controlled his breathing and focused on a single image, as Neeman taught him. Something that brought him peace, or at the very least an image of something that brought him pleasure. So Mason had picked a mountain top where he’d once been, topped with wild flowers and the sounds of birds in the trees. He still remembered the smell of the honeysuckle that grew nearby. But then she was there, in her black suit, her red hair flowing down her back in the sunlight, the pale face with the over-tired, bright, glowing blue eyes and full red lips.
He envisioned her curvy body as she’d walked into his cell at the auction house: her black jacket tight on her slim waist and flared out over her round, supple hips, her toned legs under the black skirt, her calves and feet corseted into her black boots. The sight was almost more than he could take, and before he knew it, he wasn’t calming down, but heating up.
The thoughts brought more images and sensations into his body. A stirring deep within gripped him, and he had to shake his head to stop from letting out a cry of longing. Stretching, he tried to calm down. He didn’t want to see her, didn’t want to want her. He slapped himself in the face, trying to clear his head. The door opened to the outer viewing chamber.
Neeman pounded down the ramp and Mason was hit by a wave of the most magnificent aroma. He went on high alert as he inhaled the scent, and he realized that it was hers. Crap! Neeman was covered in Danika’s intoxicating aroma. It made Mason’s blood jump ten degrees. He had to stretch again to keep from staring Neeman down. Studying his shoes, he tried to get ahold of himself, but it wasn’t working. His mind raced. She’d been there; she’d seen Neeman. But why? When he straightened, a dark look sat on Neeman’s face, and he remembered Kelvin telling him that she and Neeman were lovers.
“How about a bit of sparring, just you and me?” Neeman said.
More like Neeman working off his frustrations with his female on Mason. He nodded.
It was hard for Mason to concentrate with her scent lingering in the air. Every time Neeman got closer, it worsened. Repeatedly, Neeman landed a hit, kick, or both. And Mason took every one, blocking very few. After five minutes of getting kicked around, Neeman stopped.
“Where’s your mind, Mason? These are moves that you learned to block over a week ago. Are you trying to let me hurt you?” Neeman asked.
“I just... My head’s not in it tonight,” said Mason.
“Not in it?” Neeman demanded. “Who cares about that? It’s your job to protect your master with everything you have. You don’t have anything else in your mind. You don’t think about anything else.” Neeman punctuated the last four words with a series of kicks at Mason. “You. Do. Your. Job.” Mason blocked the last three. Neeman nodded as he did so. “You have no wants. You have no needs. You have your master, and that is all. You protect your master or someone ends up dead. Now let’s go!” He rushed Mason.
Mason forced his mind to concentrate on what was at hand. If he wanted to live through this night, he had to keep his head in the arena.
They sparred for two hours, and Mason had been right. Whatever frustrations were stuffed inside of Neeman, he worked them out. In the end, Mason had lost by a bit, but not much. Neeman managed to plant three hard hits to Mason’s face, causing Mason a cut eye and a bloodied lip. Neeman’s fangs gleamed, and he stopped after the sight and smell of Mason’s blood dictated he remove himself from the arena. Neeman excused himself, glanced up toward the viewing area, then headed up the ramp. Mason backed away, wiping the sweat and blood from his body with a towel.
* * * *
Mason performed poorly in the beginning for some reason, but after they started again, he was as good as Neeman. Danika was forced to unbutton her blouse and fan herself, watching the two males spar.
Neeman stepped up the ramp toward her, while Mason was left in the arena, hard-bodied and sweaty. Oh how she wished to go down to him right there, body dripping, and sink her teeth into his neck. She imagined the feeling, the taste of a blood that strong.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the smell of Mason’s blood on Neeman’s hand the moment the door opened. It was all Danika could do to stop herself from dropping him to the ground and licking the blood from his knuckles. Or better yet, pushing him to the side and rushing down the ramp.
Neeman’s eyes blazed with need. She had to admit, he was gorgeous. At that moment, she wondered why in all their years together, she’d never loved him. No longing to be with him again when he was gone. No willingness to put his needs before hers. She’d never felt complete being with him. He was strong, and sexy, but they did nothing to complement each other the way her parents had. As much as she’d tried to make it work with him, he wasn’t the one.
“He did satisfactorily.” She turned to the mirror, avoiding Neeman’s lusty gaze and buttoning her blouse. “He had a rocky start.”
“Like I said, he hasn’t learned to meditate yet. It was evident tonight by his words and his actions. He told me that his head wasn’t in the right place. This is what I tried to warn you of Danika. He isn’t ready yet. I need more time to—”
“No,” she said too forcefully. She coughed, turned, and tried again. “No. Do what you can, and the rest he’ll have to learn while in my service.”
Neeman opened and closed his fists several times. But in the end, he did what he’d always done when she put her foot down. He sighed and said, “Very well. He’ll be ready two weeks from tonight. I’ll deliver him to your home at eight.”
“Thank you.” She shook his hand, before letting herself out. She walked as fast as possible to the elevator and out of Neeman’s range.
As the elevator ascended to the first floor, she thought about the large human with his piercing eyes and warm aura. She imagined him protecting her. Pressing his body on hers and pinning her down beneath his tremendous weight as he shielded her from a threat. The image made her tingle all over. She threw her hands over her face. She was in so far over her head.