Dark Passion Rising Read online

  There was a soft knock at the door, rousing him from his train of thought.

  “Enter.”

  Lucien, his second in command, moved into the room with surprising grace for someone so large. He was a full head taller and a good thirty pounds of muscle heavier than Temple. A nasty scar ran from the corner of his eye to his mouth. Triumph lit his light gray eyes, as he stood by Temple’s side, staring out the window.

  “We have located Tambra Ellis,” Lucien announced. His deep voice reminded Temple of ground glass.

  “I want her monitored very closely. Do not make contact at this time. She must be kept unaware of our presence.” Temple eyed his second. “It would be better if you put one of your less conspicuous Weres on her.”

  Lucien snorted. “Bastian is already on it. Right now she is with her partner, but I will be informed when she is once again alone.”

  “Excellent. I think it’s time for us to meet Miss Ellis.”

  “The Enforcers won’t like that.”

  “They cannot prevent me from meeting Oren’s progeny. I’m within my rights as leader of the Lycan pack to do so,” Temple spoke softly, belying the hard edge beneath the words. He may not be able to whisk Tambra away, as his instincts demanded, but he could entice her to come with him willingly. He was a man with no small amount of appeal when it came to women, and quite adept at seduction. Given a little time, he was sure Tambra would succumb to his obvious charms.

  Satisfied that an advantageous conclusion would soon be reached in regards to the female, he addressed the much more serious problem at hand.

  “Has there been any word on the missing Weres?”

  “They have been captured and destroyed.”

  Temple sighed with regret. “What a waste. Please put the word out that we need more recruits for our cause. I want to see at least five new Weres within the next two days.”

  “Do you think that wise? With the Enforcers sniffing around, it is getting more difficult to keep them believing the virus theory.”

  Temple brushed Lucien’s concerns off with a shrug of his shoulders. “Even if they question the virus, they will be unprepared to stop what has already been put into action.”

  Lucien’s jaw tightened, his expression troubled as he glanced at Temple. “I have a bad feeling about all this. There is too much that can go wrong, too many variables for my comfort.”

  “Just do as ordered Lucien, let me worry about the rest. Get me those Weres and watch the others carefully. At any sign of loss of control, destroy them.”

  Weres, unlike Pure Blood Lycans, were not born but made. Humans bitten by Weres could only shift on a full moon and could only retain one shape, the “werewolf” form, which was a humanoid form with fangs and claws, a mix of wolf and human. Only Lycans, or Pure Bloods as they were most commonly called, could shift between three forms, their human form, the werewolf, and wolf. They could also shift at will, not restricted to the pull of the moon, and they could control their baser instincts with less effort than Weres.

  Temple had done everything short of incarcerating the Weres to control their emotional imbalance. The need to hunt and feed was the only thing compelling them. Feral Weres were stronger than the regular Weres, and the longer they remained out of control, the less restrained by the moon they became, until they too could shift at will.

  Temple needed his new army easily controlled. He would let the Enforcers think whatever they wanted. Diseased ferals or an uprising, either way it was much too late for them, and for the old regime of short sighted Tribunal members. Temple was in a battle for the survival of his Lycan Breed, there was nothing he wouldn’t do, no crime too great. He would be instrumental in the downfall of the Enforcers and the Tribunal. He would herald a new form of government. And he would have Tambra Ellis at his side.

  Chapter Six

  Marcus couldn’t escape the images as they played out. Even though centuries had passed, the dreams still haunted him, binding him in a relentless grip that he was powerless against. A fine sheen of sweat covered his body as he tensed, muscles straining against the wave of remembered pain and death.

  Blood ran in small rivers, marring the pristine white sand of the coliseum floor, pooling around the bodies of the fallen. The metallic tang of it clogged Marcus’s nose. He could taste death in the back of his throat. As he raised his bloody sword in victory, the crowd went mad, surging to their feet, his name on their lips in a chant that vibrated through the air. Marcus Valerian, adored gladiator, fierce warrior, proud Spartan, and slave to Rome.

  The vision blurred into a swirl of colors, coalescing into the rich silks of blue, red, and green that surrounded him as he lay on a pallet of pillows and sheets. He had been summoned here many times, a common practice with the elite citizens of Rome. The popular gladiators were treated well, their every need seen to, and Marcus was the most popular of them all.

  Nadia parted the silks, her skin like burnished gold as the flames from the oil tapers played over the curves of her bare body. Her full breasts rose proudly, topped with nipples as ripe as pomegranates. The heady smell of jasmine filled the room as a slight breeze from the open patio stirred the silk drapes.

  Nadia smiled invitingly as she moved her body over him, her lips brushing softly over his as his arousal hardened against her. He opened his lips for her darting tongue, her exploration building a fire in his belly. He stroked her long, black hair away from her face. Her dark eyes were free of any kohl liner, her full lips tasted of honey. He was compelled to taste deeper as his tongue dueled with hers. Her small, elegant hand stroked down his chest until she held him in her palm. A groan rumbled in Marcus’s chest, his hips moving with the rhythm she set. She broke the kiss, nibbling her way down his jaw to his neck, the scrape of her teeth sharp as she dragged them against the pulsing vein.

  Her warm body shifted away from him, replaced with the cold prick of steel against his chest.

  Marcus struggled harder to free himself, knowing what would come next, what always came next. Thrashing against his sheets, fighting against the inevitable turn, his dream continued ruthlessly onward.

  Grey stone walls. The air cold and damp against his fevered skin. He hung from thick chains wrapped around his wrists and anchored into the ceiling. His arms were dislocated, compliments of the many beatings he had suffered at the hands of his captors. His back and chest were flayed to the bone. Blood oozed sluggishly from the vicious wounds. His body throbbed with agony in time to his weakening pulse. Soon it would be over.

  He had lost count of how many days of torture he had endured. His only focus now was on death and the end of his torment. He heard the sound of footsteps approaching and raised his battered face to the door. His eyesight was gone, he had been blinded, but his other senses were still sharp. Marcus could tell by the clean smell that his captor approached.

  The door squeaked on rusted hinges and Marcus tracked the swishing sound of expensive cloth moving against sandaled feet. He stayed silent, waiting for the next torture his captor had planned for him.

  “Marcus Valerian, Rome’s greatest gladiator. How the mighty have fallen. You must be curious as to why this has befallen you?”

  Marcus remained silent, he had already figured out that his popularity was the reason for the hell he currently found himself in.

  His captor sounded irritated as he came nearer to Marcus.

  “I will tell you anyway. The Roman Senate cannot allow any possibility of a Spartan going free. What kind of society would we be to let an animal such as you loose upon the populace? Yet I am not without some mercy. It will not be said that I let a man go to his God without honor.”

  “Honor?” Marcus ground out. “Leave me to die in peace, you pompous buffoon.”

  “You would do well not to anger me. I can make your death much more painful than it needs to be,” he whispered close to Marcus’s ear.

  The sound of the door creaking open alerted him that they were not alone.

  The creaking turne
d into a buzzing sound, waking Marcus from his dream. For a moment he didn’t recognize his surroundings, then slowly his memories faded into the past. He reached for his cell on the night table and flipped it open, stopping the irritating ring.

  “Marcus here, what is it?” he demanded as he squinted through the window at the long shadows covering the expanse of desert. Marcus guessed it was late afternoon, not too long since he had finally dropped off to sleep.

  “I see you still wake up grouchy.” Amusement filled the voice on the other end of the line.

  “Damien, you of all people know it’s bad form to wake a vampire before the sun sets.”

  “True, but where is the fun in waiting?” Damien chuckled. “I trust you are holding up fair enough out there, old friend? I have heard from the Tribunal and thought it best to not wait until you arose.”

  Marcus’s grip on the cell phone tightened, but his voice held no emotion.

  “I take it there has been a decision made on Miss Ellis’s Rising?”

  “This is a very sticky situation. If she were not a police officer it would be less… complicated. We must also take into account that it has been over one hundred and fifty years since a Lycan has successfully turned a human. Her Rising will be watched closely by all Breeds.”

  “Tambra is not a lab experiment to be dissected by the Tribunal,” Marcus growled, unable to hide his irritation at the thought of how cavalier the Tribunal was about holding Tambra’s life in their hands. That thought made him pause. Since when did he care about what happened to a rising Lycan? It was his job to see to the safety of all Breeds. He enforced the Tribunal’s laws. His name was legendary among the Enforcers for his impartiality. How could one small human undo him so thoroughly?

  “Marcus? Did you hear what I said?” Damien’s voice snapped him back from his musings. He heard his friend sigh on the other end. “Look, the Tribunal wants you to bring Tambra back in so she can be monitored. If she shows the signs of Rising and not just shifting like a run-of-the-mill Were, she could prove that Pure Bloods can propagate their kind more readily.”

  Marcus knew how close the Lycans were to extinction. Their conception rates were too low, and only their longevity had saved them for this long. If Tambra successfully made it through the Rising, she would belong to another world, a world that had no room for a vampire in it.

  “Alright. So we monitor her.” Marcus agreed with that at least.

  “Temple Fox must have complete access to her. As leader he has first choice to become her Mate.”

  Those words made the blood pound in his ears as a rush of protective rage washed over him.

  “No,” he spat. “He’s an inferior choice. Choose another.”

  “There is no other, Marcus. Temple has the purest lineage of all Lycans. As such, he is the only choice for her. The Tribunal is backing this all the way.”

  “Fine. Tell the Tribunal he can have supervised access to her,” Marcus snapped. “I will not budge on this point, Damien.”

  “Very well, old friend. I am curious though, what is this woman to you? I have never heard you this way.” Concern dripped from his voice, causing Marcus to flinch. He was unprepared to discuss this with Damien. What he felt for Tambra was only sexual attraction. He had gone too long without a woman and he was going to remedy that.

  “What news from the Tribunal regarding the spike in ferals amongst the Breeds?” Damien asked, clearly interpreting Marcus’s silence as a reason to change the subject.

  Marcus had contacted the Tribunal as soon as Zeke had made his disquieting discovery about other Breeds being affected. The idea that this may not be a disease, but a carefully orchestrated revolt, made Marcus’s stomach churn with dread.

  “According to my reports, it is escalating at an alarming rate all over the world, and more than the Lycans are involved. So far, no feral has been captured alive for interrogation. We are working in the dark at the moment. As are you,” Damien related grimly. A hint of frustration bled through.

  It was going from bad to worse, Marcus thought as he ended the call, promising to report any news he might uncover. He had a strong suspicion that by the time any of them uncovered the truth, it would be too late.

  ****

  “You’re a what?” Cody nearly choked on his steak.

  Tambra shushed him, glancing fervently around the busy restaurant before continuing in a whisper.

  “I was bitten that night in the alley. By a werewolf,” she repeated. “I know how it sounds, Cody, so stop looking at me like I have a screw loose. I really need you to believe me okay?”

  “Tam, you can’t honestly believe this. Next you’ll tell me that vampires exist!” At the look on her face he threw his napkin down on his plate in disgust. “You have got to be kidding me. You think just because I come from New Orleans I’ll buy into this crap?”

  “Look, you know me, Cody. Am I the type of person who would make this up?” Tambra demanded in an angry hiss.

  “No, but you have to agree it’s farfetched. Werewolves and vampires in the twenty-first century? C’mon, cher. Science has empirically proven those things don’t exist,” Cody scoffed lightly, as if talking to a child.

  Tambra gritted her teeth in frustration. “I have empirical proof that they do.”

  She stabbed her steak with her fork and cut off a piece, placing the bloody meat in her mouth and chewing with relish.

  Cody frowned at her. “Whatever is happening to you can be explained in a rational, scientific manner.” He held up a hand when Tambra opened her mouth to argue. “I will keep an open mind. If you turn into a wolf, I‘ll believe you. But if you don’t, you’ll agree to see someone about this.”

  “A shrink you mean,” she spat.

  “Yes. What do you say, Tam? I’m willing to give you the chance to prove it to me.”

  “Great. I just have to turn into a dog, and hopefully not tear your throat out.” Tambra rolled her eyes.

  “Do I have to get you a flea collar?” Cody laughed as she glared at him.

  “Only if you want to stop breathing. God, of all things. A dog! I hate dogs. They smell, they eat cat shit, they rummage through the garbage. They’re disgusting!”

  “According to you, it’s a wolf you are turning into, not a dog. There is a big difference between them, cher.”

  “When did you become such an expert?” she demanded.

  “I have a friend who’s really into wolves. They’re actually remarkable animals. They have a complex society with a hierarchy. The bitch will choose the strongest of the alpha males to mate with. They lead and protect their pack with their lives.”

  “Dogs. Dogs with friends,” Tambra insisted. “And just so you know, what I saw in the alley was more from The Howling movies than an actual wolf. It was enough to make your blood run cold. I have never seen anything like it.”

  “And you think that’s what you’ll turn into?” Cody frowned. At Tambra’s hesitant nod he blew a raspberry. “You really believe this crap don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I really do. You have to promise me that if I even start to look at you like you’re a side of beef, you’ll lock me away somewhere so I can’t hurt anyone.”

  Cody cursed. “I can’t believe I’m playing along with this. Alright, I’ll see to it.”

  “Thanks, Cody. I couldn’t live with the knowledge that I hurt you, or any innocent who got in the way.”

  “So, what do we do now? Do I keep watch on you until the full moon rises? We’re going to find Marcus Valerian.”

  And hopefully the attraction she felt for him had dissipated. If not, things were about to get very complicated.

  Chapter Seven

  It was dark by the time Tambra made it back to her apartment. Frustration nipped at her, making her temper boil up to the surface. The oppressive heat only added to her bad mood. She and Cody had spent hours trying to find Marcus’s home and had come up empty. It was like the man had vanished into thin air. They had spent hours retracing her escape fr
om his house, but that too lead only to a dead end. How could she not remember? Even in her weakened state she should have been able to pick out at least one familiar landmark in her flight to freedom.

  What made it worse was Cody’s obvious attitude about the whole thing. It was quite clear he was humoring her, and thought the whole thing was a hallucination brought on by the stress. By the time he pulled his old Honda Civic up to her apartment complex Tambra was nothing but a seething cauldron of frustration and anger. She needed time away from Cody, and everyone else, so that she could think.

  The confines of the car pressed in on her and she sprang out of it before Cody could even make a full stop. She leaned into the darkened interior, Cody’s concern illuminated by the blue glow of the dashboard lights. Fighting for control as anger burned through her, she told him she would call him later, and slammed the door.

  She squelched the urge to run from him. Instead, she stepped out of view, between the chaparral trees lining the front of the building, and waited until Cody drove away. As his taillights disappeared into the distance, she stepped out of her hiding place with a tired sigh. She needed to get her shit together, fast, before she found her ass planted on a psychiatrist’s couch.

  Tambra moved through the dark shadows of her walkway, when a sudden chill of apprehension crawled up her spine, lifting the hair at the nape of her neck. She could feel eyes watching from the safety of the shadows and she mentally kicked herself for not allowing Cody to see her to the door. As she neared her apartment, a dark outline separated from the shadows and moved in front of her. She jerked to a halt, reaching behind her for her gun and cursing under her breath. She really needed to get that back from Marcus, and soon.

  “I am not here to harm you, little one. You’re safe.”

  The man’s voice was deep and smooth as he stepped out of the shadows, his hands raised to show he was not armed.