Vampire Claim: Real Men of Othercross Read online

  Vampire Claim

  Real Men of Othercross

  Celia Kyle

  Marina Maddix

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  About the Authors

  Chapter One

  The baby wanted lunch.

  There was no other reason for the ravenous hunger that wrapped around Iris Holloway’s spine and squeezed. Not only did Baby need an influx of calories and nutrients, but she also kicked her mama for good measure—to get Iris’s attention, just in case she’d forgotten there was a mini-me floating around in there.

  Iris winced, shifting slightly in her seat in an attempt to dislodge the wriggling Bladder Squasher into a more comfortable position—one that didn’t threaten a spontaneous golden shower. That would be more than just a little embarrassing, especially since as an Arcane Sentinel she needed to maintain some semblance of dignity, even when flagrantly pregnant.

  Aggravatingly pregnant.

  Get-out-of-my-stomach-already pregnant.

  “Do you understand the charges against you?” Iris spoke to Kelly Holloway, the young witch who stood before her for judgement.

  Kelly grinned and saluted. Iris suppressed a sigh. The brazen young witch only had a year left as a ward of the Holloway coven before coming into her own at age twenty-five, and she clearly thought she could charm her way through this predicament.

  Iris sympathized, but it had been years since she’d been allowed to charm her way into or out of anything—well, not counting the circumstances that led to the Bladder Squasher. Other than that wild lapse in judgment, the weight of her responsibilities as a Sentinel pushed out any room for frivolity on most days. Especially these days. Iris stared at Kelly, expression even, hoping the weight of her regard would signal to the woman to tone it down.

  No such luck.

  “Absolutely,” Kelly answered. “I’m charged with heroically coming to the aid of my best friend, sans cape since I wasn’t really dressed appropriately for such a magnificent rescue at the time and casting a truth spell in a circumstance where one would otherwise take for granted the presence of said truth. I mean, why should a truth spell have to be cast inside a courtroom in the first place, I ask you? It says something serious about the state of our judiciary that officers of the court feel free to play fast and loose with our most sacred oaths.”

  “Fast talking won’t get you out of this.” Iris’s voice remained flat. “Step into the circle, Kelly.”

  Kelly eyed the glow of the already cast circle sideways. “That sounds an awful lot like ‘come and see my etchings’ but in the serial killer sense, not in the hot, brooding lover sense.”

  Iris suppressed another sigh. Fine. The girl was funny, but Iris’s amusement was dropping at the same rate as her urge to go pee increased. At any other not-pregnant time, she might have let her coven mate draw this out simply for the entertainment factor. And to be totally honest, Iris didn’t blame Kelly for casting the truth spell in the middle of a trial. But personal feelings had no place when she was sitting in judgment over someone. Not even her personal feelings of really needing to get this over with now so she could go find a toilet.

  “Delaying the inevitable isn’t helping your case, Kelly. In fact, it’s having the opposite of what I assume is your desired effect.” Iris allowed a chill to enter her voice, hoping the subtle threat would speed things along. She shifted her weight again, squeezing her thighs together as tight as they would go.

  Kelly’s lips thinned a fraction, the expression around her eyes taut. She was worried. Good, she should be. The first lesson any witch with the kind of power Kelly wielded needed to both learn and constantly be reminded of was the responsible use of her gift.

  As Kelly inched into the casting circle, Iris gripped the arms of her chair and slowly pushed up, using a good deal of upper body strength mingled with hope. Just standing up these days was a major accomplishment; the elastic band she wore under her belly helping stabilize everything as her insides readjusted to an upright position.

  Once she was reasonably certain everything inside her bulbous belly was in its proper place, she ambled toward the circle she’d cast. Kelly stood in its center now, her face a trifle pale. Iris gave her a small, reassuring smile. The young Holloway witch had, from all reports, done herself credit with her efforts in the courtroom. The truth spell she’d cast had been powerful enough to trip up a Falkov prosecutor as well as a judge, who should have known better.

  But whatever tepid spell Kelly had cast was nothing compared to Iris’s. She guessed it was at least five times stronger, probably more. There was a reason she was Sentinel, even though she wasn’t even yet thirty.

  “It’s my job to determine how well you understood the rules you broke, the ones we all must follow,” Iris said as her power flared. “Whether your intent was benign, for example, and how to weigh your infraction against the circumstances surrounding it, and finally to determine a suitable sentence, if I decide you should be sanctioned.”

  Kelly’s eyes shifted to lock on a point over Iris's shoulder, a sign the young witch was now starting to take the proceedings seriously.

  “You should know I have nothing personal at stake here, I’m completely neutral. Our status as coven mates will not weigh on my decision, nor will my opinions on your actions. Only the facts will be taken into account in determining your guilt.”

  Kelly shrugged. “I get it. You’re just doing your job. No hard feelings.”

  Truth. Interesting. That was good, the lack of resentment toward Iris’s position in judging her indicated a well-developed sense of personal responsibility. It also indicated Kelly had known the consequences of her actions prior to taking them. So pleading ignorance was an unlikely defense. Not that she could lie within the circle.

  “Let’s talk about those feelings.”

  Kelly cringed. “Do we have to?”

  “That’s pretty much all we’re here to do, Kelly. Start at the beginning.”

  She sighed. “Alena called me.”

  “Alena Falkov, the representative of the vampire on trial?”

  “Yeah, her.”

  “Go on.”

  “She needed help with the case. She’d just been assigned—well, not really assigned, but she’d just taken up Luca’s defense and needed a way to prove his innocence. We didn’t have many other options except the truth spell.”

  A well-worded shade of truth that meant Kelly believed what she was saying.

  “Were you aware that your interference was unsanctioned?”

  “Yup. But if he was innocent, isn’t that worth it?” There was resignation in Kelly’s tone. “What else are truth spells good for, if not to make sure innocent people aren’t victims of clan politics?”

  “Truth spells are powerful tools that, if used indiscriminately, cause chaos.” Iris held up a hand to forestall more argument. “And was that your motivation, to ensure an innocent man wasn’t punished?”

  “I mean… yes and no? It was important to me because he’s Alena’s Beloved and he was being falsely accused.” Kelly chewed on her lip. “It sucks when politics trump justice, but honestly, I was just being a good friend.”

  Iris sensed something lurking beneath the surface of her words. “Did you gain personal satisfaction from thwarting the Falkovs’s plan to frame the vampire?”

  Kelly grinned broadly. “Damn right I did! They’re the schemiest bastards of all the vampire clans.”

  “And your best fri
end is one of them.”

  “Pobody’s nerfect.”

  Iris was about to alter the line of questioning when the Bladder Squasher shifted, took aim, and expertly jabbed a heel into the very organ for which she—or he—was named. At the same time Iris's groin pulled, the muscles of her uterus continually grew and stretched. She bent over, hand under her belly, grunting from the sharp pain. Her stomach tightened simultaneously, the contraction choosing that moment to practice for the real thing. The entire combination of sensations distracted Iris enough that she didn’t realize Kelly had run out of the casting circle to help her.

  “Sentinel? Are you alright? Is it the baby?”

  “I’m fine,” Iris said, inhaling and exhaling to a count of ten. It was her habit to practice her breathing though each Braxton Hicks contraction. In theory, it would prepare her for an unmedicated childbirth.

  In theory.

  She cursed loudly as another kick gleefully demonstrated the tyranny of such a small creature over someone who was supposedly bigger and stronger. It’s mother, no less.

  “Oh, shit,” Kelly gasped, then raised her voice, the sound amplified by a subtle spell. “Help! Help! Iris needs help!”

  “No, really. I’m fi—”

  The door crashed open against the wall as the cavalry—otherwise known as Mateo Santos—arrived. Iris braced herself on her desk with one hand as she tried to straighten, to show him she was fine, but he didn’t bother waiting. With fangs bared and one hand on his gun, he bolted toward her… right into the casting circle. The spell only allowed the person for whom it was cast to enter it, so he was sent flying backward for his trouble, landing in a crumpled pile on the floor.

  “Mateo, what did I tell you about running into an active casting?”

  Her contraction already fading, Iris waddled around the circle toward her sprawled bodyguard as another overly protective male rushed in. Brodie Sinclair at least had the sense to skid to a halt before suffering the same fate as Mateo, but just barely.

  Males.

  “What happened?” Brodie demanded, his inner wolf hovering near the surface, ready to pounce on any perceived threat. “Did that fucking bloodsucker try to hurt you?”

  Fur sprouted all over Brodie’s face as he stalked toward Mateo, but Iris stood in his way.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Then what the hell was all that shouting for?” Mateo asked, rubbing the back of his head as he found his footing.

  “I, uh…” Kelly looked sheepish. “I maybe overreacted. I’m sorry, Iris, but it really seemed like you were about to pop.”

  Iris rolled her eyes and stretched her back. “One little uterine twinge and the girl calls in the freaking cavalry.”

  “Took long enough for them to get here,” Kelly said with a snicker. Iris lifted a finger and the witch’s laughter died away.

  Mateo cupped Iris’s elbow and started to lead her back to her chair. “Isn’t it about time for lunch? You haven’t eaten since early this morning, and that was only toast and herbal tea.”

  Disapproval practically dripped off him. Iris pulled her arm free, appreciative of the vampire’s concern, but not about to be told when and what to eat. She was the one creating another person inside of her body. Everyone else could fuck right off.

  “Are you criticizing her?” Brodie growled, his fur still showing. “She’s a grown woman, she knows what nutrition she needs. Iris, you should lie down and try to take a nap. You look exhausted.”

  Mateo rounded on him. “If she wanted a nap, she would be taking a nap. She needs to eat, which she can do at her desk and still tend to her duties.”

  “What would a vampire know about eating?”

  “What would a shifter know about anything? Don’t you eat your young at birth?”

  Brodie snarled and stepped into Mateo’s personal space. Bold, a wolf stepping up to a vampire.

  Iris pinched the bridge of her nose. “Gentlemen. While I’m both hungry and tired—and thank you so much for noticing—both will have to wait until I’m done here. But if either of you make my life any more stressful than it already is, I’ll toss you both out on your asses.”

  “I’m just trying to take care of you,” Brodie said.

  “And doing a piss-poor job,” Mateo muttered.

  “That’s it.” Brodie closed the gap between them and bumped his chest against Mateo’s.

  Iris muttered rapidly and they both froze. Except for their eyeballs, which frantically swiveled toward Iris.

  She smiled pleasantly. “Oh, do I finally have your attention? Good. Now, Brodie, Mateo is watching over me for the baby daddy, not that I asked him to. Mateo, Brodie and I are deciding if we should mate. Both of you have every right to be concerned, and I truly do appreciate it. But for now, you’re just pissing me off. So…” She raised a hand. “Scat.”

  A blast of psychic power lifted them both an inch off their feet and unceremoniously whooshed them from the room, the door slamming behind them.

  Iris waited a moment to be sure neither would try to barge back in, then turned to Kelly. “Now. Where were we?”

  Chapter Two

  He was done.

  Done staying away, done doing the right thing. The right thing was a slow-drip torture, a denial of self so abnormal and painful that the months of deprivation were slowly driving him mad. He needed her, needed his Beloved.

  Rafe Santos walked the halls of the Santos clan mansion, an occasional staff member scurrying through the hall as it was opened, aired out, and prepared for a long-term stay. His home back in Spain was more spacious and finely appointed, but Iris was in Othercross. And he was done keeping away from her, even for her own good.

  She would just have to accept the idea that they were fated to be together.

  “Master?”

  Rafe paused, turning slightly as soft footsteps heralded the approach of his secretary, Dario, a thin male who had been with him for over a decade. “Yes.”

  “Tomás is here, sir.”

  “Show him to my study and tell him I will join him shortly.”

  “Very good, Master.”

  Dario spoke more like a butler than a secretary, all elegant formality and subtle disdain when things were not quite as they ought to be. The man hadn’t particularly cared for Iris, believing a mere witch to be less than Rafe’s bloodline deserved.

  But Iris was Rafe’s Beloved, and though young, her power belied her years. She would never be a high-bred lady, as some in his clan expected him to mate, and Rafe didn’t want that from her. What he wanted…

  Rafe turned and headed for his study. He’d left Iris, knowing they were fated, because of her youth. She deserved time to grow into her full strength without the cloud of Santos clan politics hanging over her head. Deserved the opportunity to live freely before tying herself to him forever.

  He entered his study, heading to the beverage station in the corner of the room. Tomás inclined his head, already sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace, a drink in his hand. Rafe poured the vodka-infused blood into a glass and joined his second-in-command.

  Tomás nodded toward a file sitting on Rafe’s chair. “That is the most recent brief, Master.”

  Rafe took a sip as he opened the file and rifled through the contents. He almost spit the drink back into his glass. Vague dissatisfaction welled, as it always did these days when he compared the taste of his usual vintage to the single glorious sip he’d taken from Iris. Nothing compared. He inhaled, the scent memory strong in his nostrils. Her warmth in his bed, satin skin, Rafe nicking the tiniest of scrapes on her wrist with his nail so he might taste her without sparking the mating bond.

  “Rafe?”

  He looked up, forcing the maelstrom of emotions back inside the mental chest where he kept them locked away.

  “This is good,” he said. “Let’s begin.”

  They discussed the current events involving their clan, petty disputes, and the performance of financial holdings. What inroads had been ma
de with local political relationships and which alliances had been made among their own. Of course, a hot topic was the recent flare up in the feud between the Falkovs and the Ravennas, and if that had affected any Santos interests. Peace was always more profitable, until it wasn’t. If there was going to be another full-blown war, the Santos clan would need to make certain adjustments.

  “It seems as if everything on that front has been handled,” Tomás concluded. “The mate-bonded pair has an interest in preventing any escalations.”

  “If it were possible to choose one’s Beloved, I might suspect it was a strategy on someone’s part,” Rafe murmured. In most societies, marriage was traditionally the best method of making peace… or of sending a Trojan horse into enemy territory. Of course, that didn’t apply to the Beloved bond.

  “We never supported one clan above the other,” Tomás noted, “so we’ve lost nothing now that they are on the path to peace. We might have a quiet century or two from them.”

  “Not two centuries, surely. Perhaps one.” Rafe set his glass down and closed the file, wondering at his own lack of focus. “Perhaps we should reach out to the mate-bonded pair and invite them for dinner. There may be some value in offering support. I’ll review all of this again later. Are there any major changes I need to know about right now?”

  He glanced at Tomás when his second’s silence stretched on a bit too long. Rafe tapped a fingernail on the desk.

  “Tomás? What’s on your mind?”

  Rafe waited patiently for the male to choose his words. There was nothing about Tomás’s body language that suggested danger or disaster, so whatever it was, it must be personal. That immediately put Rafe on edge, though his controlled demeanor didn’t change outwardly.

  “We’ve altered the rotation for our Soldiers,” Tomás said, his voice tight.

  Was his second playing a game? Rafe reached out with his mind, a gentle psychic probe demanding Tomás reveal everything.