Page 10 of A Hunter Turned
Destin Jourdain was the leader of the Order of Witches here in the US. A powerful witch that called New Orleans home. So powerful, in fact, that it practically crackled around the man and made Archer’s hackles rise whenever they were in proximity. Not an inappropriate response as it turned out considering the witch had single-handedly taken out an army of Turned vampires that, in one night, had shifted the supernatural power structure within the state and quite possibly across the country if not the world. The Born had always assumed they were at the top of the food chain. In a matter of hours, one witch had proven that assumption wrong.
Archer had nothing but respect and admiration for the man. That still didn’t mean he wanted Destin Jourdain, and all the power at that man’s disposal, anywhere near his pack.
“Did anyone see the vampires that did this?” Kane was asking of those men and women clustered around, some of them still in fur.
Eyes turned their alpha’s way for permission. A slight inclination of his chin was all it took before several negative shakes of their heads were offered in answer.
“Call Jourdain,” Archer growled, squatting down to see if he could pick up a scent. It would be useless as a means to run them to ground tonight, the vampires, most-likely using vehicles to make their getaway, but later… Because one thing Archer was sure of was that this was only the first salvo. A mere taunt in the grand scheme of things to come.
Leaning over the closest victim, Archer took a moment to close the woman’s vacant, staring eyes with gentle fingertips. She hadn’t deserved this. None of them had. All of them most likely had been minding their own business when they’d been snatched, as another woman had been doing four years ago.
Pushing the memory away before it consumed him, Archer sifted through the top layer of scents, those of blood and death, and focused on the secondary layer. Sage, a hint of lavender and vanilla, overlaid with the all too familiar scent of a vampire that was supposed to be dead.
Lurching back so fast he nearly landed on his ass, Archer growled and shook his head hard to clear it. He had to be mistaken. Ripping up a clump of nearby grass, he breathed in the fresh earthiness to clear his nasal passages before taking in the woman’s scent once more to be sure. Nothing had changed. He’d had that bastard’s blood in his mouth once, would never forget the scent of the vampire he’d wanted to rip apart with claws and teeth. Archer’s mind spiraled backward.
His wife had been slowly healing after her return from hell. She’d been coming to terms with what had been done with her and to her, a glimmer of the woman she’d once been making an appearance. She’d even begun to smile again. And then the vampire who’d taken her had come back for her.
Archer had left Kelsey with a sleeping Cady to visit the newest member of their pack, born earlier that evening. He’d barely been gone an hour, hating to be away from his mate and infant daughter any longer than that. Upon his return, he’d scented a vampire, had taken off at a run to find a brutish looking man with a jagged scar down the left side of his face dragging Kelsey out of the territory by her hair. The words he’d overheard the vampire utter to Archer’s mate had set his blood to boiling. “Did you think you could escape me, wife? That I wouldn’t come looking for you? There’s nowhere you can hide from me that I won’t find you.”
Archer had seen red. Shifting into his wolf form, he’d attacked, ripping the vampire away from Kelsey with a vicious snarl, tearing at the man with teeth and claws. He’d done damage but not enough – never enough for the woman who had sat broken on the ground and watched the violence her mate had doled out that night with a vacant expression in her eyes.
The vampire had fought back. Managed to get a few nasty hits in on Archer as well, enough to daze him, enough to buy the vampire time to use his preternatural speed to escape. He’d wanted to go after the vampire, finish it, but his pack had interceded to talk him out of it. They pointed out his injuries, some of them substantial to which he still bore the scars, and that going after the vampire in that condition would only end up with Archer dead. Better to approach Olivier Rodolfo, the Born that ruled the vampires of this territory, and let him deal harshly with his subordinate rather than allow vengeance to bring a possible war to the pack.
He’d wanted to deal vengeance with his own hands but had done as his pack had asked, had set a meeting with the Born, and Rodolfo had given his word from one leader to another that the matter would be handled, the sentence death.
Archer never should have trusted the Born. He should have demanded proof by way of that scarred bastard’s head on a platter.
“Were you able to pick up a scent?” Kane asked, squatting down beside him and pulling Archer back from the edge of a nightmare that was guaranteed to put him into a murderous rage.
Standing with a growl, his eyes glowing silver with his wolf so close to the surface, he addressed his pack. “Pick up any scents you can. Memorize them. Once Jourdain arrives, assist him with the bodies should he need it. From this point forward, the pack is on high alert.”
His eyes moving to Kane, he lowered his voice but spoke no less clearly. “This message was for you, vampire. You brought death to our pack. I want you gone before morning.”
His proclamation made, Archer didn’t stick around to argue, not with the danger looming. His daughter, his pack, needed to be protected. Breaking into a run, he tore at his clothes leaving a scattered trail behind him, and with a roar that morphed into a howl, let his wolf burst from his skin.
∞∞∞
Kane watched with a grimace as the pack alpha took off into the trees. Shit. Archer wasn’t wrong. This mess had been meant for him to see – a gauntlet thrown down. Leaving, while inconvenient, was the right thing to do.
A pack female sidled up to him, her hand stroking over his T-shirt covered chest. Nicky? Nika? She’d been making eyes at him for a few days now, giving subtle hints with her body language that she’d be welcome to him approaching her. Archer’s order for him to vacate had obviously quashed her subtle approach. She was quite attractive with dirty blonde hair, big blue eyes, and lush, kissable lips. Normally, he would have taken her up on her offer at the first bat of those long lashes, but he’d been too busy with Jamie’s healing and establishing his dominance within his new territory. A dominance that was being challenged.
Trying to figure out the best way to let her down gently without ruining any future chance he might have of bedding the pretty little shifter, Kane was grateful for the distraction of headlights approaching. “We’re about to have company, love,” he uttered, gently removing her hand from his chest. “And I’m guessing it’s Jourdain.”
Her lashes lowered for a moment before they flicked back up, a seductive smile on her lips and a promise in her eyes as she backed away. “I’ll come by to help you pack up your things later.”
Well, he wouldn’t say no to that. Not that he had time to say much of anything anyway. The approaching car slowed and then came to a lurching halt as it was jammed roughly into park. The engine was still running as the driver’s side door bounced open hard and Destin Jourdain emerged, his hawk-like features twisted with rage and enough power sparking off him to have the wolves stepping quickly back.
Kane wanted to step back as well but held his ground. He couldn’t afford to appear weak, not even for a moment.
“I will personally bring each one of those responsible for this to you, Jourdain. You have my word,” Kane solemnly swore.
Jourdain wasn’t in the mood for oaths or promises. The big hand suddenly around Kane’s throat was proof of that.
Six and a half feet of pissed-off and powerful stared him down as strong fingers began to slowly squeeze. Jourdain’s dark eyes glinted with rage, a wash of red speared across cheeks of mahogany, his lips pulled into a snarl, and a voice that was a bass rumble Kane could feel in his chest, announced, “My patience is gone, Mister Fletcher. Do your job or I will make it my top priority to put every last one of you and your kind down.”
His instinct was to claw at that restraining hand that was squeezing his airway, to gasp for breath to fill his starving lungs, but he refused to betray a weakness in front of another predator. Stifling those urges with teeth-grinding will, he held the gaze with steely determination and once released with a harsh shove, managed to somehow keep from falling on his ass or drawing in betraying hard gulps of air as he longed to do.
Unfortunately, his voice came out croakier than he would have liked when he said, “My first order as leader of this territory was to call a halt to the violence against witches. This is a challenge against my leadership. They won’t live long enough to issue another.”
