Once Lost Lords (Royal Scales, Book 1) Read online

  I headed off. Thinking about it could be done on the way to his hotel. A little hustle and the hike would only take a few hours. The walk would save me money and ensure perfect timing. Humans weren’t nocturnal. Wolves tended to do area checks a few times per night and go back to sleep.

  An hour later I heard a voice.

  “Jay.” It was soft, almost a whisper. The scent of crushed peppermint filled my nose. I looked around expecting to see Kahina but there was nothing. Just myself, an empty street, and a stream of words in my head trying to fuel my extra senses.

  Moments later I heard it again. A sad whisper of my name, but it was hers. She was playing games and I wasn’t in any mood for them. Supposedly she was out looking for me. I hadn’t taken a cab to disguise my destination. Julianne would have told her anyway.

  On my right was a brick wall with ivy choking it. On the left, rows of mindless little houses were scattered around. I had been taking a back road through some suburbs to get to another part of town.

  “Jay.” The voice came a third time. It was a lot closer. Both feet halted so I could scan the area again.

  “What do you want, Kahina?”

  “We need to talk, Jay, about us.” Her words were quiet and couldn’t be pinpointed despite trying.

  “Not now. I’ve got a job.” I said.

  “Is that where you’re going?” Then just like that she was in front of me. Appearing with a burst of speed that set skin tingling. Her excited face tinted with anger.

  At that moment, I understood why she had latched onto me. One side effect of vampirism was a difficulty to adapt as time passed. To separate out the recent past from longer memories. Years ago could seem like days ago.

  It made me sad.

  “How much longer do you have?” I just asked.

  “Not long. I’ve been holding on.” Kahina kicked at a can laying on the sidewalk.

  “Why?” Please don’t say it was for me. Four years, holding onto the last shreds of humanity for four years. Not a record, but too long.

  “I’ve been getting all the defenses I can into place. Exactly like we talked about. To protect myself while you’re gone. So they don’t kill me.”

  “Who?”

  She smiled, it looked weird against her face. It wasn’t the feral smile I was used to seeing from her. It wasn’t the angry excitement, or a sadly twisted expression, just happiness.

  “You do care.”

  “I don’t want you dead, no matter what,” I paused and took a breath for a moment “happened between us. I just don’t want to be dead either.”

  “I would never kill you.”

  Every time I recalled that night I was filled with uncomfortable emotions. Not just fear of how close death had been. That was only part of it. Along side it was mounting outrage, heat crawled up my throat in an attempt to vent endless hatred for the violation. I had stayed away for her safety as much as mine. Placing blame on her had just been easier than admitting my own flaws. Each month it got easier.

  Tonight, seeing her, realizing how she was stuck in the past, was enough to realize.

  “Why me, Kahina? Why am I worth waiting for?” She couldn’t want a man like me. No one sane would.

  “Because you can protect me.”

  I laughed at the absurdity of her statement. Me? Protect a person? Bodyguard wasn’t the game I played, hunting, retrieving, intimidation, rackets, but not defending people. The only thing that really mattered was my collection in the basement.

  Kahina had fled during the laughter. Her face had been completely unguarded. There wasn’t only excitement, there was hope. My amusement had crushed it, leaving a blank slate glaring outward, then an empty spot where her body used to be.

  My elation at this job had dwindled to passive. When, exactly, had we talked about her protection? Only one conclusion could be made for sure. I had been a true asshole.

  Chapter 11 – Built All Wrong

  Locations were categorized into two types when tracking. Those that received attention from law enforcement, and those that didn’t. Reasons for not reporting varied from alarm systems, personal armies, or lack of caring. The hotel that Francis hunkered in was fancy enough to be one of the former. Barging in and believing I owned the place was easier in some run down dive. Caesars Junction was a perfect example.

  Controlling the situation should be easy. My clothes and some Sector issued cuffs would solve most issues. These cuffs were designed with wolf countermeasures reserved for law enforcement. The slightest twisting out of shape on them would result in little bumps of sharpened silver coming to the top. It was designed so that those points would cut into the flesh of whichever person was unlucky enough to wear them.

  The head Alphas attempted to get them outlawed every year. Every other government branch focused on control of unruly Pack members. Normal handcuffs were a joke against wolves. These would keep Francis in check.

  I had to get inside without hotel security calling the police. From there it was a short hop to the hallway where Francis had parked himself for the night. Getting past the hired goons would be easy enough. What better way than to pose as a fourth thug? I looked the part with my perpetually recovering features.

  Getting in was simple. Walking in the lobby and straight for the elevators didn’t set off anyone’s mental alarms. It was easier to be ignored by hotel staff if I pretended nothing was wrong. Acting like I belonged, not hesitating, not moving too fast or too slow. This was me pretending to be a man returning to the hotel after a late night.

  My footsteps, my hallway, my target, my pray, mine.

  Carpet is thin, worn. Walls are layer upon layer of papering held together by glue. People behind closed doors snore, chat on phones, stare at ceilings.

  Cameras hung above the exits. Getting out the standard ways would be difficult. Especially if Francis was no longer among the living.

  Just off the elevator and down the hall were two of the three hired guns. They were babbling something to each other in an effort to pass the time. The third man was probably inside the doorway. That’s where I would be. Making sure Francis didn’t crawl out in the morning and avoid paying.

  Three humans would be far easier if I took them on away from Francis. Guns and a wolf combined could take down this big dumb bouncer easily. Especially since the humans had to be left alive and relatively unhurt. At least my possessive mindset was functioning a bit. Tidbits of the world about fed into my sense of touch.

  Feet rest against ground. All pressure on heels. One gazes at nothing. Words rattle out, no meaning. One glances at me, constantly. Measures. His right-hand grips a gun. Handle is warm. Safety off.

  Both my hands came out of their pockets and into the air. Hopefully, it would help me appear unarmed and sort of harmless, aside from my size. The hallway was too small for my taste, but that was common.

  “Hold up. Who’s this?” The taller one asked. His hair a muddy color and clothes seemed to share the same selection of browns and tans.

  “I’m here to help,” I responded.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” The tallest seemed to be in charge of this little trio.

  “Someone said there was a job here for someone who could hold off wolves.” Or get a hold of them. My vague words gave me time to move down the hallway.

  “Lot of someones for a lot of nothing. Roll yourself somewhere else.”

  “Damn, man, I could use some cash too.” Daniel’s accent came out of my mouth.

  “I’m sure you could.” The man’s voice was sarcastic and didn’t seem to hold an ounce of respect for me. If only I was in my old shape. I would have rolled down this hallway like a whirlwind of destruction while throwing chairs from the lobby.

  “Ever held against a wolf?” I turned to look at the jumpy one. His hand was still working the grip of his gun. Fingers were flicking the safety off and on repeatedly. At least it felt like a safety.

  “Sure we have, now get gone before we make you gone.” Bec
ause he would fire those guns in a hotel? Sure, way to get an unwelcome kind of attention.

  The door behind the men opened and the last guard came out. His face seemed to pause for a moment as eyes shifted from the dark room to the brighter hallways.

  “Boss says if he can hold off a wolf he can stay, but it comes out of our share.” Said the third one.

  “Fuck that.” The tall muddy haired man answered.

  Now I just needed him to close the door and separate himself from Francis. They weren’t clever enough to keep one eye on the prize. These hired thugs barely knew which end of the gun to point at the bad guy.

  “Here, I’ll show you my piece.” I kept one hand in the air and started to put the other in a pocket.

  “Hold it. What’s that you’re reaching for?” He asked

  “Be cool.” I grinned at him.

  “I’ll catch that, you just chill.” There was a moment where my friendly face slipped. Did he want to reach into my pocket? And take my things?

  “Be careful.” I hope he cuts himself to ribbons. To his credit, the muddy haired man managed to extract one of the gloves without much effort.

  “Holy shit.” The third one let loose his commitment from the doorway and stepped out.

  “What the hell are these?” The first asked.

  “A level playing field,” I responded while glaring at him and my gloves. He couldn’t help but try it on, an action that did nothing but annoy me.

  “Bet you don’t even have silver bullets.” It’s easier to sucker punch someone if you get them talking, and with the door closing all three were outside and away from Francis.

  “Sure we…” Muddy head’s next words were cut off when my shoulder drove into his chest. Our slam cracked the doorway and expelled air from his lungs. Fingers curled inward and punched the brown man next to me. He had almost gotten those grubby untrimmed fingernails around his gun. Nice to know my punches were still heavy enough to put someone out.

  Gunfire went off behind me and grazed one shoulder. I turned while sweeping my left hand across knocking the firearm away before a second shot went off. Man three received my fist to the face. Pleasant sounds of cartilage snapping and grown men crying in pain filled the air. Blood poured out before the third one even hit the ground. A swift follow-up kick deterred another attempt at shooting me.

  If these three had been wolves, or vampires, or remotely good at their jobs then this might have gone completely different. The fun part, the wolf, was inside and a lot tougher. Hopefully.

  I pried my glove out of mud head’s grasp. Both claws slide into place. There was a rush of noise as I opened the door. Heavy grunting warned me just before tactile overload did. Something large and heavy was being heft.

  Quickly I dashed inside and pressed against the wall. A heavy object hurled past and slammed crosswise into the doorway. A growl of frustration preceded metal grinding in protest. My tactile senses picked up other details. A heavy body turning away. Metal framed glass sliding upward. Francis was going for the window.

  The possessive droning in the back of my mind fell apart as I rushed to catch up. One foot banged into a dresser, hands fumbled to get around the chair and coat rack. In the seconds it took to travel across the room Francis had already leaped out. Part of me was flattered a wolf had jumped three stories to get away from me.

  I flipped on a light and looked around for a sign on where he was headed, car keys, anything that would let me chase after him. Instead, there was a ticket for a train out of town. Good enough.

  The ticket quickly went into a coat pocket and I looked out the window again. He made good time while not in full wolf. His legs certainly pumped furiously. Mentally I weighed options. Francis wouldn’t risk shifting. He had a slight limp from the landing. I had his escape route right here. Half the pack was on the lookout.

  But he was mine. This was my chance to start really rebuilding my life.

  Head snaps. Old sensations flood in. Need this. Need enough to let loose, for a moment. Just a moment. Prey is so close. Back burns from unused muscles. Arm itches in reminder of things being forgotten. World goes black for a brief moment. Hear air ripple as it catches.

  Sudden free falling and a rush of wind caused me to panic. Both arms were windmilling wildly as legs fluttered. A sudden backward jerk sent pain through both shoulders. My frightening descent lost most momentum. Feet slammed down into the ground and then I was running after him. There was a little voice in the back of my head screaming about what I had just done. I should be broken. Leaping out the third story was not something humans did.

  The other part of me was hauling ass across the dimly lit parking lot towards Francis. I could figure out the jumping and surviving thing later. Ahead of me was a wolf who needed to be punched in the face.

  Rapid fire thudding of footsteps echoed across the street. Francis turned with a quick jerk of neck muscles. Terror crossed his face. His eyesight was better than mine. I was going on a barely registered set of reactions to the objects around me. The scum wolf kept looking over while tipping anything nearby. A garbage can, newsstands, I hurdled over them all while closing the gap. I twisted backward to dodge swirling lamppost I felt flying through the air. Francis’ heartbeat had grown stuttered, face flushed, eyes strained.

  Nearby was a shoe, then another. A shirt fluttered by. He wasn’t limping as badly now and if he completed the shift I would never catch up. Four legs sped way faster than two.

  Oh Hell.

  Francis was turning around while changing shape. I kept up my pace as one part of me watched him shifting and another part felt it. Muscles twitched and reformed, shoulders and head drawing up to a greater height, jaw pulling out to a toothy smile. His fur was the same color I had seen back at his house in the suburbs, but the look was far less welcoming than the canine form.

  Wolves did not play fair. Neither did I. My other thoughts were in full swing as I charged.

  Fur bristles. Scrunches. Rolls. Shoulder muscles settle. Heart pumps loudly. Body sways through the air while fuzzy thing gains balance.

  Adrenaline rushed through Francis’ body. A psychological response to the change according to Julianne. Switching from one form to another came with an intense surge of chemicals that overwhelmed any sense of pain. Instead, wolves felt an intense rush of energy similar to a berserker.

  My senses swept the same feelings over me and something similar answered the challenge. His life was mine. My prey, my target, my hunt. I chased him down and he wasn’t running away anymore. I barely had the sense to yank my jacket off so it wouldn’t get torn up.

  This was the fun part.

  Muscles in a wolf work differently. There are weaknesses and angles anyone can go for with enough practice. I was out of practice, but part of me remembered where to swing for. The chest was useless. It was too bunched up. The face and nose were sensitive and perfect. A throat would cause them to freak out. Legs were heavily muscled and suited for a bouncy equilibrium. Breaking the weak spot near his heels would work wonders.

  Above all, silver helped.

  For a moment, as I charged in, I wondered how badly this might turn out. What else could I do? The last few days had reminded me of one important fact. I would rather die fighting than live hiding. My limited skill set was only useful for this kind of moment. And I loved it.

  Both feet launched me across the gap as Francis finished his shift. I lashed out, trying to connect silver to skin quickly. Francis fell backward while kicking on hind legs like a wild dog. Large feet rose against my flying form. One arm braced against the kicks. Claws rent through layers of skin.

  First blood was his. Francis bent around and managed to back himself up and lowered his head to the ground. Even with that crouched position he was still huge. His voice choked up with spittle from nearly rabid growls.

  Darkness robbed most physical sight. Wolf’s vision would be unfair. I could feel him as he paced. Most of his weight rested on large, awkwardly shaped feet. It was easie
r to focus on his pelvis, to feel the weight shift from his center. Francis slid sideways in order to reach my blind side.

  Both hands shook, left, then right. Flashing silver would put him on guard. Keep him from blindly rushing in and overwhelming me. Hesitation on his part would make it easier to get silver into him. That simple action would cause the wolf to shut down and go into shock.

  My left foot stomped down as loudly as I could in his direction. Francis flinched, his back rolled and twitched. Surviving in the heat of battle was making it easier to focus. To feel ownership. Awareness stretched behind me picking up scattered items. Strewn clothes were us behind us. Torn pants sat about his warped waist.

  Mine.

  Francis was getting smarter. Bunching up and quieting down. Part of his rational mind must be kicking in as the initial rush of transformation faded. I could feel his muscles roll in preparation. When he did move, it would be sudden, so sudden I might not react in time.

  Weight shifts. Fur brushes air. There.

  A brief flash of insight sent me leftward. Francis shot through the spot I had been standing. I pressed towards the ground, touching down with a hand and spinning about. The other hand swung through the wolf’s landing zone. Fur brushed across my fingers. I propelled myself forward swinging the other hand in and successfully grabbed more air.

  Teeth rushed in from the right snapping a giant maw. Big enough to take out my head. My shoulder tucked in as I rolled to the side. Things were getting easier to sense. Taking on that all-encompassing sensation I had when fighting Kahina’s minions. Drumming pulsed in my ears overriding my real hearing. Each movement felt familiar, like a favorite pair of pants. Ones that would fit perfectly if I could just get them over my ass.

  My mind slipped further into the moment, into the battle in front of me. This was my turf, my town, my target.

  Heavy fuzzy thing. Angry snarl. Drops of perspiration splash onto ground. Across the street someone rushes by. Scared. Weak Pink Meat. Doesn’t look over.