The All Consuming: A Shifter MC Novel (Pureblood Predator MC Book 4) (21 page)

***

The Purebloods are clustered in a tight circle around something I can’t see. I hop off the bike, tell Trish and Anik to watch Vuk while I settle him in the shade of the Harley and chain his arm through the front tire. Then I push my way through the tightly gathered Purebloods, scenting blood, sweat, leather and the sweet smells of adrenaline and victory. A few of the newer Purebloods scowl as I push past. They saw my animal. They know I’m a Risen. They don’t trust me.

I think about what Vuk said.
 

Maybe they’re right not to trust me.
 

I strain to see through burly tattooed shoulders and thick manes.
 

What’s going on? Is everything all right?
 

My animal’s not sensing danger—
 

I burst past the last of the crowd and find myself in a cleared circle, ringed tight with watching eyes. Blue hurries over, making a show of greeting me. But then he puts his hand on my arm. Holding me. My animal snarls and rages. The stupid bastard. My skin begins to heat, only slightly, but enough for Blue’s eyes to narrow.

“Easy, Lil,” Blue says. “I’m your friend, remember?”

“You’re
Aaron’s
friend.”

A shadow flickers across Blue’s youthful features.
 

I tug my arm free and dig my fingernails into my palms, struggling to banish my animal. An unsettled vibe ripples through the crowd. I hear a few murmurs and snarls.
 

“They don’t like me very much,” I say to Blue, trying to sound unconcerned.

“They’re worked up.”

“That’s not an answer.”

There’s a half-dead Stricken lying in the dirt in the middle of the ring.

“This some sort of fucked-up blood sacrifice? Doesn’t seem like Aaron’s style.”

“It isn’t,” a female voice says at my ear.

Mia interlaces her arm in mine. The fucking bitch. I’m trapped between Blue on one side and Mia on the other. Now my animal’s
really
pissed. The crowd presses tight behind me. More snarls and even a few jeers aimed in my direction.
 

“You’ve made some admirers,” Mia says. “They must have missed you.”

I think about Vuk and the seething Pureblood crowd and suddenly my throat cinches closed. Maybe he was right. I cast a nervous glance through the crowd, searching for Anik.

“Something the matter, piglet?”

“What is this, Mia?”

The Stricken lying on the ground moans. Moves his head. He’s in human form. He’s a stocky guy, maybe early thirties, with close-cropped blonde hair and an arm that’s bent at awful angles and a fist-sized hole in his ribcage. The skin around his wounds is slowly curling over. He’s healing. The Purebloods in the first row snarl and push at one another. The Stricken’s beating black heart is tempting their animals—

“So,” Mia says. “You came back. Shocker. You’re like a stubborn venereal disease.”

“Couldn’t bear being away from you.”

Something sharp rakes across my neck. I shriek and whirl, expecting to see one of Mia’s snakes. But instead there’s a Pureblood in half animal. He’s a weird cross between a cat and a rodent. His snout is long and tapered and his eyes are narrow. He lifts his clawed hand and hisses at me, but before I can murder the motherfucker Mia has one of her snake’s wrapped around the asshole’s neck. The Pureblood’s not wearing a leather MC cut.

He’s one of the new guys.

“Apologize,” Mia says, squeezing the guy’s throat so hard his eyes bug out.

The crowd directly around us is getting agitated, and suddenly I’m feeling real uncomfortable—

“You heard the lady,” Blue growls. “Apologize to your
alpha’s
bloodmate.”

That gets him. The cat-thing nods his head yes and Mia releases him just enough to breathe. He spits a hasty apology, sinks into the crowd and vanishes.

“What the fuck was that thing?” I ask, not wanting to dwell on Mia helping me out.
 

“Fossa,” Blue says. “Australian. Sneaky little fucks. Riot-minded.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Mia says in my ear.

“Thanks. No friendship bracelet then?”

“You’re my alpha’s property. I protect what’s his.”

Property? Whatever. I bite my tongue and decide to let it slide. I always knew there was that element between Aaron and me. He’s an apex alpha. I’m his bloodmate. We’re both marked. Leave it to Mia to make something beautiful sound slimy.

“That Fossa dude didn’t get the memo about me and Aaron?”

“Shit’s changing fast, piglet. No one’s really sure where they stand. They scent you’re different. Right now that’s enough to raise hackles.”

I’m about to reply when Aaron shoves his way through the crowd and enters the ring. I want to be pissed at him. There’s a part of me that doesn’t regret sneaking off last night. But my body betrays me. My heart thumps a quick rhythm and my breath rises to match. I’m suddenly warm all over, especially where it counts. I have to resist the urge to fling myself into his arms.
 

Shitballs.
 

There’s no feeling in the world like watching my bloodmate lording over his pack. I’m his and he’s mine. The thought makes me swallow, hard, because suddenly I
do
regret taking off. What the fuck was I thinking? I let the bullshit come between us. Let Mia slither her insinuating self between me and my bloodmate. A growl escapes my lips.

Mia leans down and scents me. “You do love him,” she says, an odd mix of sadness and anger and…was that resignation in her voice?

“I love him,” I say. “But life doesn’t love us.”

“Then
fuck
that life,” Mia says. “Leave it behind. You don’t turn your back on something real.”

You don’t turn your back…

It’s the nicest thing Mia’s ever said to me.
 

Why the change of heart? Is the bitch setting me up for a fall? Guilt flushes my cheeks. Is this what I’ve become? Nervous? Even paranoid? Looking for an iron fist hidden in the velvet glove? Suspicious of everyone? Still. With Mia there’s precedent—
 

Aaron enters the ring with his head held high, his arctic blue eyes blazing and his fists clenched at his sides. He’s been tanned by the harsh sun, and it suits him. His dark hair’s a wild tangle. He’s bare chested under his torn, burned, and shot-to-shit leather cut. The Pureblood Predator MC patch, a skeletal wolf head with glowing yellow eyes, a small golden crown and a pair of upside-down grim reaper blades crossed beneath is threadbare and splattered with blood.

But the patch is still there. Still kicking.

A smaller blood-red patch has been added beneath the larger wolf head.

The End Days Chapter. My apex alpha’s joking nod to an armageddon that hasn’t managed to kill him yet.
 

Everything about how my bloodmate carries himself says power. It comes off him in waves. His commanding presence. His panty-melting charisma. It’s the kind of power that made an entire species bend a knee. But it’s not like my fallen brother’s power.
 

There’s something comforting, not terrorizing, about the feeling Aaron gives to those he leads. Something…
just
.
 

Honest. Genuine. Righteous.

He’s become the kind of man his packmates will follow to the death, and be thankful they had the opportunity.
 

I think back to when I first saw him on his Harley, splitting the yellow outside his dive bar in Seattle. Mia’s right. So much has changed. Most of all Mr. One-Eight-Seven.

He’s become who he was meant to be.

The One We Answer To.
 

I love him like freedom. Like the open road. Like the wind tearing through my hair and a half-mad laugh bursting from my lungs. I love him like my animal loves hunting prey, scenting the air, closing in on a kill that means life—

That’s what this love is. Life and death. Survival.
 

Two lives stripped bare of the bullshit.

I love what Aaron
does
to my life, how just by being who and what he is he cuts the chains that shackle me down, the fear that holds me back.
 

How he frees me.

Lifts me up.

This man.

This wild, lethal man.

I force a long, halting breath. Is it enough to know I love him? Enough to admit it? Or does the hard work begin now? Maybe even if we don’t make it, just loving him will be enough. Our lives smashed together and we emerged different people. No matter what happens between us, I’ll always bear his mark.
 

The thought makes me oddly hopeful.
 

Not to mention horny as hell.
 

Aaron’s wearing studded shit-kicker boots and a pair of tight black jeans and a huge chrome belt buckle that has the words PIT MEAT stamped on it above an image of a succulent pig roasting on a spit.
 

I break out into laughter.
 

Totally
inappropriate laughter, given the dying dude at my bloodmate’s feet.

All eyes turn to me.

Even the dying Stricken’s.
 

But it’s only Aaron’s I care about.

Our eyes meet. His face was hard, even scowling when he entered the ring. But now? There’s softness when he looks at me, even…happiness and relief that I returned, and suddenly my heart floods with the need to feel my bloodmate’s powerful arms wrapped around me, his back muscles rippling beneath my hands, his cock pressing against my warmth and—

Aaron turns away. The wolf’s steely, unforgiving scowl returns.
 

I finally take a breath.

Okay. So he’s got shit to take care of. I respect that.

Aaron crouches beside the injured Stricken. The guy’s doing his best not to look shit-scared, but he’s hemmed in by a pack of hungry predators and has the top dog glaring down at him and dropping a whole lotta fang.

Aaron reaches out, puts his hand on the Stricken’s chest.
 

Right over his heart.
 

“He’s here,” the Stricken guy spits. “The Fallen.”

Aaron pauses. Flicks a look in my direction.

Then he closes his eyes and presses his hand hard into the Stricken guy’s chest, pinning him down. Aaron’s wolf surfaces. Silver-black hair springs from his hands. His claws dig into the Stricken’s chest, spilling black blood.

The Purebloods cheer and holler.

My bloodmate’s going to rip the guy’s heart out. But why the show? Why the theatrics? It’s like Mia and her heart-burning ceremony when she was rolling with the New World Order—
 

Then I feel an odd sensation on my skin. A
pressure
. Like the air’s suddenly heavier. I glance across the circle and into the crowd. I’m not the only one who feels it.
 

“What…what the fuck…” the Stricken stammers.

Aaron keeps his eyes closed. His face is blank, his lips slightly parted. Supercharged air envelops me. It’s humming with an odd energy—

A ripple flow’s through my bloodmate. From his heart down his arm and out his hand. The ripple carries across to the Stricken, rolls across his chest, and a few moments later the blood leaking from the Stricken’s wound runs bright red.

There’s a violent rush of air, like an airplane door being thrown open at thirty thousand feet, then silence.

A hush descends on the crowd.
 

Which is saying a lot, considering who the crowd is.
 

Aaron resumes his human form and opens his eyes. For an instant they’re perfectly colorless. Not arctic blue and not pure white. Almost translucent. Then he blinks and the blue returns and his hand slips from the injured guy’s chest and my bloodmate slumps to the ground, gasping for air.

My feet are rooted to the spot, but my Aaron’s inner circle leaps to lift him. Nash screams at the crowd to move the fuck aside, and as he’s carried away Aaron says to the guy lying in the sand, “Your name. Tell me your name.”

The guy stammers something unintelligible, then gets his wits back and says, “Tyler. I’m Tyler…sir?”

Aaron shakes his head. “You call me sir again, I’ll fucking turn you back. Welcome to the winning side, Pureblood.”

The Purebloods erupt in deafening cheers and vehement war cries. I use the opportunity to sneak away from Mia and the rest of them.

I need to see my man.

L
UZ
LEADS
ME
through Mexico City’s sewers and secret tunnels to a juncture I recognize. I give a silent thanks to my animal for granting me the power to see in darkness.
 

“Left to the Pyramid of the Sun,” I whisper.

“And right to the Hole. The home of
La Mugre
.”

“I continue alone. This isn’t your war.”

Luz points at her face with a dismissive sniff. “Then you leave me for dead. I told you what would happen if I removed my piercings. There’s no going back.”

“I desire one thing. Vengeance. It’s not the kind of mission a man lives through.”

“You’re not only a man.”

I snarl at her. Drop my leopard’s fangs.
 

Luz doesn’t even flinch. Brave girl. Silly girl.

“There are more of us,” Luz says. “Many more.”

“More of what?”

“Who are tired of the killing. The line between Scavenger and Low. There is growing unrest. Even…violence. We’re forbidden to have relations between clans, of course. But it happens. If discovered, the guilty are publicly executed. Flayed alive by their family members. Last time there was an execution a riot broke out in the Hole. Many died.”

“You said
La Mugre
has been around forever. Whatever they’re doing, it’s working.”

“This is an
opportunity
, Rodas. I am respected. The Scavenger Clan trusts me. I know how many of them would turn against the Mothers if—”

“How many?”

“Thousands.”

“An army.”

“Yes.”