Published: February 2, 2020

4

GARRICK

IN THE FIFTY YEARS GARRICK HAD been to the auction house, he’d never seen a vampire lose it so completely. First time trading always derailed even the most controlled of their kind. They became in service to the will of the bloodlust instead of their own. But his Captain’s loss of control surpassed every other known instance of frenzied bidding he’d ever seen.

Served
him right.

For
all their talk, Elderian vampires were just like every other. Elderians hated
the blood trade.  A fact, he must have
heard a hundred times since their journey to the human realm began. Asher complained
constantly about the trade being beneath him. Yet Garrick had never heard a
complaint from any Elderian as to their blood’s origins when his kingdom delivered
their provisions. Blood was blood when you were thirsty. And as evident by his
long-time friend, every vampire was driven by the same call for blood regardless
of their politics.

Asher
had even denied his offer to soften the blow by ensuring he’d have the touch of
a soft woman on top of him while he made his first bid. One who’d let him sink
his fangs into her neck and drink right from the source if he needed to. But
the warrior refused, citing his immutable control.

Cha!
He was strong, but no vampire was immune to the call.

Garrick
took a long sip of wine and held back a snicker. His eyes lingering on the girl
his captain had spent their entire purse acquiring.

“Well,
that was… interesting.”

The
figure beside him didn’t move. He glanced over to make sure Asher hadn’t dropped
dead of guilt and coughed a laugh in his hand.

Was
he pouting?

Asher’s
oversized frame stuffed inside of a tiny leather chair. His fangs scraped his
bottom lip and his fists balled tight underneath his chin as he stared blankly
through the mirror glass and out onto the platform with a forlorn look.

Yes,
Asher was really pouting. Garrick’s smirk grew. He should take pity on him but
there was no fun in that. After days of being berated by his oldest friend, there
was only one viable option for payback: never let him live it down.

Cha! This is going to be fun.

“You
could look less uncomfortable.” He tried his hardest to stifle a laugh when Asher
could barely shift in his seat to turn to him.

“Don’t,”
Asher growled.

He
raised an amused brow. “For all the control…”

“I
said, don’t.” Asher’s jaw flexed. The corner of his lip raised into a snarl.

“What
is done, is done,” he shrugged, keeping his tone taunting as he placed the
glass down on the table between their matching leather chairs.  “Realize we have to inform the king we spent
twenty thousand gold chelets on one purchase.”

Asher
grumbled. “A warrior is not a trader.”

At
least in that, they could agree. The adjustment took time to get used to. He’d
been at it for at least five years before he found his stride. Asher never really
stood a chance.

“This
is your first time. All traders derail the first time.”

When
a vicious snarl ripped from Asher’s throat, he softened. Yes, it was an awful
thing to trade life, but Asher knew when they were assigned this mission, they
were to procure more blood for their King’s blood harem. The High King only
drank from the source. Did he think that just because he’d transferred to a
different kingdom their purchases would be for something else?

“I
need to leave.” Asher stood abruptly.

“Sure,
you have spent all of our coin anyway. There’s no reason to stay any longer.”

“Could
you not?” Asher sounded past the extent of his patience.

“What? The King will go easy on you. Secretly, I think he likes it when we make extravagant purchases on his behalf. It shows the depths of his coffers. Besides, he treats the expensive ones better than the others. You’ve done her a service, really.”

“That
is enough, legion.” Asher’s tone became no-nonsense, no longer that of his
childhood best friend but that of his superior. The authority rippled through
to his bones.

Garrick
barely kept a straight face. “Yes, Captain.”

“Must
you always mock me?”

“We’ve
been friends for the last seventy years. It’ll take me a bit to get used to
your new rank over me.”

“Let’s
go,” Asher muttered and headed into the hall.

The
auction house was built in a ring around the trading stage. They walked the
circle past many of the doors where the other traders relaxed. From the sound
of it, they were having a better time than him right now.

Even
though he counted Asher amongst his closest friends, the warrior was not one to
party with. He was too rigid with the rules. He’d much rather spend his time defying
the pleasures of the alter-realm instead of enjoying them. Something Garrick
needed to separate himself from immediately.

“These
stairs will get us to the trading post faster,” he said when Asher had gone too
far toward the elevators.

“Right,”
Asher nodded and followed his lead.

Garrick
pushed through the doors and down a long flight of stairs to the warehouse. The
auctioneer didn’t much care for anyone to roam around anywhere except the approved
halls meant for the guests. But he’d spent enough over the years to tamper the
man’s ire.

As
they walked through the walkways between large stacked shipping crates, a
slight rattle caught his attention. It sounded like someone was pushing against
a chained fence. Or a cage.

Ignore it. Never snoop around in another man’s closet. His senses were already hiked
at the scent of shifter. Faint, but concentrated. Like wet rags that had been in
stagnant water too long.

More
rattling. Then, a scream.

He
glanced over his shoulder toward the sound. Near the open bay in the back, the silhouettes
of several figures were crouched under a light. Ah, they were playing bones. He’d
love to play a hand or two.

He
grinned and looked at Asher.

“Captain,
if we are done,” his gaze lingered on the game.

“We
must pay first.”

“It
doesn’t take two to pay. The Weighers will count the gold.”

Asher
stared at the side of his face then toward the game, his lips pursed into a
flat line but he gave his consent. “Where do I pay?”

He
pointed him to the small office in the back to where a tall woman with hair the
color of fire sat. She only looked to be filing her nails, but she was likely
sharpening them into points. The trading business was unforgiving and he’d seen
her use them a time or two when someone became too handsy with their unpaid
merchandise.

“We
meet at the sleeping house”

“The
hotel?”

“Whatever
it is called,” Asher ground out.

Cha!
He needed to give it a rest. So, what he made a purchase. If he didn’t want any
part of it, he shouldn’t have become a warrior. They were following the king’s
command. Their own opinions didn’t matter.

If
he wasn’t going to let up on his crankiness, Garrick would need more than a
drink and a game of Bones to deal with it. Perhaps, tonight he’d find himself a
soft woman who’d let him drink from her. In fact, after a round or two of
bones, he’d do exactly that. He turned to Asher.

“Don’t
wait up for me.”

“Garrick,
try not to get yourself into trouble,” Asher’s tone was still hard but the
concern was there.

“What
fun is it being in the alter-realm if I didn’t?”

“I’m
serious,” he grumbled. “I will have you cited, friend or not.”

Cha!
He didn’t know fun. But what his captain didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, so he offered
him the traditional vampire salute. “As you’ve commanded.”

Asher
returned it, cuffing his right fist his left hand at his chest and giving him a
slight bow. They parted ways and Garrick followed the sound of the metal
rattling to the back of the warehouse. He could hear the men shouting as one
gained favor over the others. When he approached, the game came to an abrupt
pause.

The
men were on their feet and forming a loose formation before he could get into
their sightlines. With their bodies slightly hunched, there was no mistaking
they were ready to pounce like a large mountain cat after it’s prey.

At least they were wise enough to perceive him as a threat although a fight was the furthest thing from his mind. He held up a hand to stay their suspicion. “I have not played a good game of bones in many years.”

The
tallest of them spoke first. “Who says we have an opening?”

The
corners of Garrick’s mouth turned up as he surveyed the man with lightly tanned
skin and short black hair that matched his own. Then his gaze flickered to the
rest of them. Not as tall, but definitely part of the same gene pool. And
shifter. He memorized their faces.

“I
have deep pockets and an inclination for lightening them.”

That
got the shifter’s attention. The taller one looked to his mates. The team of
them seemed to come to a consensus he couldn’t hear.

“Fine. Minimum bid is a thousand dollars.”

He
did the math. Two hundred chelets. That was pretty steep for a game of bones.
They were testing him to see how deep his pockets went.

Not
very far, but he had enough to be able to swindle them out of what they had
laying on the concrete floor behind them.

“Fine,”
he pulled a thick gold coin from his pocket and tossed it at the tallest one
who caught it with one hand. “This should cover it.”

The
shifter nodded his assent with a greedy grin and motioned him over. Once he
drew nearer to the circle, his senses woke. A deep perfume unlike any other made
the vampire inside of him frazzle.

He
was no stranger to human blood. But this was something else entirely. Deeper,
earthier somehow, with a touch of floral sweetness that he could revel in as he
devoured it. His fangs dropped.

Don’t look. He’d learned the driving force behind his control was his ability to
resist the temptation to look. If he saw a pulse, his vampire might take
control.

He
wet his lips and braced himself. He could do this. He stopped thinking and
focused on the shifters in front of him. Their heartbeats weren’t as strong as
the one to the side of him.

His
curiosity won.

By the gods. He tried not to stare, but she was uprooting. Jet-black hair, a red
dress he wanted to peel from her skin, and a pair of bright green eyes that were
like jade stones, hypnotized him like a snake charmer to a cobra.

A
strange sensation filled him. He wanted to do more than just drink her blood.
He wanted to rip her out of that cage and take her far away from the warehouse.

Her
eyes found his. Laden with fear, she seemed to plead with him to free her. Or
was that his own wishful thinking.

“I
did not see this one upstairs.” He could not for one moment take his gaze from her
even though he knew he probably should. The shifters around him were uncomfortable.
He felt the heat of them grow. Their stares were drilling holes in him.

“She’s
not for sale.”

At
an auction house, everything was for sale. His gaze flicked off the girl and
onto the tallest one in an instant. He could tell when he was outnumbered in a
match. The pack created their formation again, ready to jump on him if he made
the wrong move. He’d have to play it level headed if he were ever going to get
her out of that cage.

“What
was her bid?”

He
had no answer.

Ah.
Then, she wasn’t paid for and therefore up for the taking.

“I’ll
play you for her.”

“She
is already claimed.” The shorter chestnut-haired shifter made a step toward
him.

“Gavin,
wait,” the taller one held his hand out to steady his friend, but his eyes remained
trained on his face. “There’s no harm in him putting in a bid of his own.”

Gavin raked a worried hand through his hair but didn’t say anything to the tall one.

“New terms,” Tall One said. “For her, I’ll need another one of these.” He held out the gold coil he’d tossed him.

“What are you—” Gavin started but was hushed by a growl.

“She’s
taken, but not sold. He has the money now.”

Garrick
slid another coin from his pocket and tossed it over.

The
cage rattled again.

“Bang
on that cage one more time, girl!” The taller one yelled in threat.

Just
behind it, the girl yelped and settled back. Anger burned through him; that
shifter was never going to speak to her like that again. Garrick nearly launched
himself at him, but years of disciple steadied him.

He’d
get her out soon enough. He turned his back on the girl and motioned to the
game on the floor. “Let us play.”

Bones
was supposedly a game of chance. Shake the bones the right way, they would show
you favor. The wrong way and it’d surely spell your demise. It was only a
chance game for those who didn’t know how to throw. He’d outlived these shifters
by at least a lifetime and had as much practice throwing stones. An advantage
that would get the girl out of the cage.

“How
many throws.”

“Just
one. Win this win it all.” The taller one’s voice barely disguised his glee. A
few of the others tried to hold their laughter.

When
he crouched to survey the board, he could see why. A smattering of red and blue
rocks scattered across the floor. They held the monopoly. Shit.

“Who’s
red?”

The
taller one nodded. “Mine.”

“And
blue?”

The
shorter shifter pointed at himself.

“What
is open?”

“Purple.
Newest bid gets next throw. House rules,” the tallest grinned widely.

Garrick
kept his face neutral.

The shifter thought he’d already won, which was not a far-off assumption. It would take a miracle not to lose. The most he could hope for was to gather enough points. He’d need a near-perfect shot to win by one. He held out his hand.

A set of shaved rocks was placed in his palm. He nearly sucked his teeth. No wonder the shifter danced on his toes. These rocks were sure to lose. These would push none of the others out of the arena but would win him some points. He had to hope enough.

“Sometimes
an unlucky hand is drawn,” the tall one said with feigned pity.

Or sometimes the underdog wins.

Garrick
shook the rocks in his hands like makeshift dice and scattered them across the
board. When the first two met the red quadrant and the others in blue, a
triumphant smirk ghosted across his lips. He quickly counted the points. The
gods were on his side this day, his stones held dominion on the board.

“Cha!
Looks like I win.”

He
collected several of the rocks he’d won and settled back.

The
taller one’s teeth snapped shut. His rival’s eyes narrowed; his voice turned accusatory.
“You cheat!”

“It
was a fair win.”

In an instant, the shifter was on his feet. Garrick matched his move, standing to his full length. It became abundantly clear from his peripherals that they hadn’t intended to lose. He ground the stones in his hands into dust. He would not be caught without a way to defend himself.

“Go
again. Best two of three.”

“I’ve
already won. It is my time to collect.”

His
grip tightened against the rocks and dust in his hands, waiting for the pack to
make their move. They shared a brief look, then each of them stood ready to
attack.

“Collect
his money and give it to him,” Tall one said.

The
runt of the pack quickly cleared the board of the paper bills they used in this
realm for currency and held it out.

“Take
your earnings and leave.”

“Of
course,” Garrick stepped backward toward the cage.

“She’s
not for sale.”

“She
was part of our deal.”

“You
can leave with your money, fanger. Or lose your life.”

Cha!
Just like a shifter, think with his brawn and not his brains.

“I’ll
take what’s mine,” his voice settled into a low growl. He barely flinched
toward the cage and the taller one charged him.

So
much for not getting into trouble.

He
flung the crushed rocks at them. Dusty powder sprayed in their faces.

“Ah,”
one of them cried.

“Fuck,
my eyes.”

His
back hit the cage, and he griped it from behind and tore through it. The metal
screeched against his hands but it bent enough for her to fit through. He moved
to the side so she could climb out. Her scent became stronger as she brushed past
him, then stalled at his back.

“Run,”
he didn’t have to look to see she’d taken off without needing to be told a
second time. Her delicate footfalls pattered through the warehouse.

“Stop
her,” Tall one shouted.

Gavin was first after her, but he was faster. Garrick bulldozed into the shorter shifter and tackled him to the ground. Patches of black fur burst from his body, as Gavin began to shift under him. His pack was not far behind. Crouching into offensive positions, they stalked toward him, in varying stages of animal-human hybrid.

Right.
He needed to leave. This was not a match he could win. Gavin’s claws sliced
into his arms.

With
a groan, he reached for the dagger in his pants and shoved it into the shifting
wolf.

Howling,
the shifter flailed against the ground, but the wound was already starting to
heal.

The
pack devolved into howls as they met their final change. The howls that terrified
him. A single vampire against a pack of coordinating shifters would not
survive.

If
he had any hope of getting out of there, he needed to leave now. Garrick slid
off of the shifter and broke into a run after the woman he’d just freed.

“Get
him,” the words mangled into a half-roar.

He
burst into a sprint.

Howling
after him, the wolves followed.

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Author’s Note: Can you believe it’s February already?! Time in this new year is flying!

There is an alternate beginning for this chapter.

For a little background: the events of the first part of this book are the same as another book I’m writing called Sold to the Vampire King (where Asher and Breanne get their own story). Well, in an attempt to keep the two books aligned, I wanted to write a one for one match from each of the scenes just told from the different perspectives. But as I was editing Rogue, it seemed to bloat the chapter and not get to the action quickly enough. I mean, we left our hearts pumping in the last chapter and I wanted to keep it going without slowing down too much. I still liked the alternate beginning because you get to see Garrick’s playful personality juxtaposed against Asher’s more brooding one.

Anyhoo, I’m sending out the alternate chapter beginning to the folks on my web serial alert squad tomorrow. If you want in on the action, make sure you join.

Sign up here: Vampire Love Serial Alert

A new chapter goes out next week!

See you soon!

Sabrina