Half-breed’s Bargain by Samantha Wolfe
16
HARLOW
Ethan leans over the pool table and stares down the length of his cue as he takes aim, the motion drawing attention to the tattoos winding down the entire length of his muscular arm. They even cover the backs of his hands and fingers. More tattoos canvas every inch of skin not hidden by his sweatpants and tank top, except for his face. The man is absolutely ripped, too. Between that and the tattoos, plus his full scruffy beard and the long dark-blond curls piled up into one of those man buns, he looks like just the type of bad boy I’d enjoy ogling. Even if he is gay and taken. But I’m not feeling it at all. I don’t find him or his equally hot partner, who’s eying Ethan with glittering lust-filled eyes, anymore attractive than the inanimate pool cue in my hands.
What the hell is wrong with me? Has Van ruined me for all other men? Thoughts of Van take me back to last night and the feel of his mouth between my legs, his lips on mine, and his teeth on my nipples. I remember the taste of his thick length in my mouth and his musky male scent. I recall the fierce kiss we shared out in the forest this morning that had me begging for his cock and is responsible for the low level hum of desire that’s been singing through my veins ever since. A bolt of hot lust shoots through my entire body, and I know the answer. Yeah, I am totally ruined for all other men.
Ethan takes his shot, the striped ball he’s aiming for sinking into the pocket with ease, then straightens to grin in triumphant at his mate.
“Nice shot, mon chéri,” Mercer tells him with a glitter in his eyes that tell me he’s getting a lot more out of admiring his mate than I am. Ethan sinks two more balls before it’s my turn, frowning in annoyance with his last missed shot. Mercer’s eyes flick to mine from across the ornate pool table with a challenging yet still playful expression. “Your turn, mon amie.”
“Prepare to have your ass handed to you, big guy,” I say to Ethan with a predatory grin.
I already beat Mercer, and it’s time to do the same with Ethan. I used to hustle pool for extra cash after I got out of prison when jobs were hard to come by, thanks to my criminal record. Ethan doesn’t stand anymore chance of beating me than his mate did. I smirk at Mercer as I lean over the table with my cue, ready to trounce Ethan too, when motion catches my eye. I glance up and look across the large unfinished room that’s empty of anything but the old pool table to see Van walking in.
My heart leaps in my chest with joy. He was out in the forest all day while Mercer and Ethan tried their best to distract and entertain me. I never asked why and the boys never volunteered, but I know it’s because of me. The pull of anam amháin on our souls is becoming too much for either of us to bear, and I know he’s keeping his distance for both our sakes, but I missed him terribly. Just the sight of him makes me want to sprint across the room and fling myself into his arms. That is until another person walks in behind him. I recognize the dark-haired and exotically beautiful female vampire from last night standing far too close to Van and instantly see red. I just knew there was more to their relationship than either let on. The next thing I know, I’m snapping the pool cue in half across one knee and stalking across the unfinished hardwood floor toward the vampire, ready to stake her in the heart with both of the broken ends for daring to get anywhere near what’s mine. I almost make it to her, her eyes already turning black and her fangs extending as I approach, before Van steps between us.
“Whoa,” he says, clasping my upper arms to stop me. “There’s no need for this.”
I meet his eyes as a senseless, jealous rage surges unchecked through my veins. “You fucked her, didn’t you?” I ask, not understanding my behavior anymore than I can control it in this moment.
“Yes,” he says, and I snarl and try to step around him to get to that vampire bitch, but Van stops me again. “Fifty years ago,” he clarifies, and his words have me pausing to meet his gaze. “They’ll never be another woman for me besides you, Harlow,” he says in a soft, reassuring voice as his hands skim over my arms in a soothing gesture. “Anymore than you’ll ever want another man. You know that.”
I do, especially after noting my lack of a reaction to Mercer or Ethan earlier. I see the truth in his eyes as much as I feel it in my heart, too. I nod and relax in his grip, and he moves his hands down to mine.
“Now let go,” he says as he gently pries my fingers from around the two pieces of the splintered pool cue. “She’s no threat to you.”
I let him take them from me as he continues to hold my gaze, his dark gray eyes mesmerizing me. I watch him study me, his eyes moving down to my mouth and flaring silver with lust, and my batshit crazy jealousy morphs into white hot arousal in an instant. I want to sink into his arms and let him take control of my body and my pleasure, to lose myself in him. My aura reaches out to him on instinct, ignoring the flash of fear I feel at the power this man holds over me, and pleasure shudders through me when I touch his. I barely register the sound of the broken pieces of the pool cue clattering to the floor as Van grips my hands in his.
“Harlow,” he murmurs as he shifts closer, my name sounding like smooth silk from those perfect lips of his. I draw in a breath in anticipation of his kiss.
A throat clears, pulling our attention from each other just before our lips meet. “Well, as much as I enjoy a bit of voyeurism, that’s not why I’m here tonight,” the vampire says, her pleasant English accent grating on my nerves.
I turn to see her studying Van with a perplexed expression, as if she doesn’t know what to make of him. But whatever the reason, I don’t like her looking at him. Especially now that I know she’s been intimate with him in a way I never will be. It hurts as much as it pisses me off. I scowl, ready to verbally tear into her when Van’s hands tighten around mine, a wave of calm reassurance traveling to me from our connected auras.
“Easy, querida,” he says. “Ameera’s here to talk. Nothing more.”
Van saying this vampire’s name doesn’t help, but his soothing tone calms me a bit. At least enough to keep me from attacking her… for now.
“Then she better start talking or get the fuck out,” I say, still glaring at her. What can I say? I’m a hard ass bitch.
Ameera arches a dark brow at Van. “Why you chose to work for her after escaping Móira’s enslavement is beyond me.”
“I don’t work for Harlow,” Van answers as he turns toward her. He takes a step back from the vampire, taking me with him. Smart man. “I’m still Móira’s.” His voice is sad and resigned, his expression that blank mask of his.
Ameera’s eyes widen and she lets out a small, disgusted noise. “Of course you bloody are,” she says with a shake of her head. “I should’ve known nothing would change that.”
I feel Van’s irritation with her comment and get the sense that it isn’t a recent issue between the two of them. It irks me off. How dare this woman judge him? Móira preyed on him in a moment of weakness and tricked him into the bargain. It wasn’t his fault, no matter what Van thinks.
“Perhaps you should just tell us why you’re here,” Mercer says as he comes up next to me, his tone firm.
Ethan comes up beside Van and crosses his arms, the four of us presenting a united front against the vampire. I’ve never felt so included in anything in my life, which is really sad considering how old I am. Ameera eyes the two werewolves, and I’m surprised that she doesn’t look at them in disdain like Lynch did.
She nods toward Van with a small smile. “Well, at least you don’t insist on doing everything alone like you used to do. I guess that’s progress.” She steps forward and stretches a hand out toward Mercer. “I’m Ameera Fatali.”
Mercer stares at her outstretched hand for a moment as if she has a giant hairy spider sitting in the middle of her palm. Then he looks to Van, who meets his eyes and nods. Mercer’s expression relaxes a bit, and he reaches out to shake Ameera’s hand. “Sebastian Mercer.”
Ameera turns toward Ethan with raised brows. “And you are?”
“Ethan Ballard,” he answers with narrowed eyes, though he shakes her hand without hesitation.
I guess Van’s opinion is good enough for both werewolves. Maybe I should be a little less confrontational with the vampire, but her past relationship with Van makes it hard to be anything but pissed off at her.
She looks at me next. “Are you really who you say you are?” she asks as she cocks her head.
“I am.”
“Is it true you turned on your employer and killed him?”
“He had it coming,” I say with conviction.
“Of that I have no doubt, given Viktor Bravas’ reputation.” Ameera arches a brow, her demeanor irritatingly calm and collected. “One question remains, though. Who exactly are you working for now?”
“Who says I’m working for anyone but myself?” I ask.
“Please,” Ameera says with an eye roll. “I don’t buy your poor excuse of looking for a new employer anymore than Lynch does.”
“If you must know, I’m here as a favor to a friend,” I say, but she doesn’t look anymore convinced by that answer, even if she doesn’t comment.
“What have you told Lynch about us?” Van asks, his voice hard.
“Nothing,” she says, looking offended. “I’m not daft. I’m not going to help the bastard when I want him to have enough slack to hang himself.”
I narrow my eyes at her, wondering what the hell she’s talking about.
“She’s in Unity on behalf of the Mari Maeștri,” Van clarifies. “Apparently, they sent her here to look into Lynch’s behavior.”
“They should,” I say. “He’s a real piece of shit, even for a vampire,” I glance at Ameera with a small smirk. “No offense.”
She narrows her eyes at me, but doesn’t respond like I hoped. Yeah, I may be trying to bait the vampire. I’m still itching for a fight with her, after all.
“But what I really want to know is why she’s here tonight,” I say.
“She’s here to warn us about the ring,” Van answers for her. “I invited her in to clarify what’s going on.”
“You trust this vampire that much?” I ask.
“I do,” Van replies, squeezing the hand he’s still clasping in his.
I frown and study his face. I know he’s telling the truth. I can feel it. But do I trust him and this magical connection we share? The answer is unequivocally, yes. How could I not when I know him more intimately than I’ve ever known anyone? So I nod and squeeze his hand, and it earns me a tiny smile before he turns his attention back to the vampire.
“Come on,” Van motions for Ameera to follow us. “Let’s talk.”
Van leads the way to the finished kitchen and we all take a seat around the large kitchen table. Van keeps a hold of my hand under the table, and I’m pretty sure it’s as much to touch me as it is to make sure I don’t go after Ameera since it’s still a distinct possibility. A long moment of silence passes as she sits there in this serene stillness that irritates the fuck out of me, and I get impatient.
“Start talking, or I’ll have Van rescind your invitation,” I say with a hard glare.
Ameera turns an incensed expression toward Van, as if expecting him to side with her, but he shrugs and says, “What she said.”
I smile at Van as a wave of warm affection for him sweeps through me like some sort of lovesick puppy, then frown. I’ve never felt like this in my entire life and it’s rather mortifying, to be honest. I decide to ignore it for my own mental wellbeing.
“Very well,” Ameera says as she glances between Van and me with a perplexed frown. Yeah, lady, I don’t get it either. “The ring that Lynch is so eager to get his hands on isn’t just any magical artifact. It belonged to the Morrígan.”
Van gasps and stiffens, but Mercer and Ethan just look as confused as I am. I look at Van and see that his face has paled and there’s actual fear in his eyes.
“Are you sure?” Van asks as his hand tightens around mine.
“Very,” she says. “I’ve seen Lynch’s research. He even hired a freelance mage from outside Unity to verify his findings. It definitely belonged to her.”
“Dios mío,” Van murmurs under his breath, his expression downright haunted. And I don’t like it one damn bit.
I growl in irritation and pull my hand out of Van’s. “Would someone care to explain what’s going on to the rest of the class?” I ask with a frown as Ethan and Mercer nod in agreement, looking just as annoyed as I feel.
Van sighs and takes my hand again. “My apologies, querida,” he says with a rueful glance. “The Morrígan was a Celtic goddess of war, death, and fate. She incited warriors to battle and determined who lived and died. She helped bring about victory over their enemies. She was also known as a goddess of sovereignty and rightful kingship.”
“Which is where the ring comes in,” Ameera adds. “If Lynch possesses the ring, he can defeat the other three factions of Unity and take control of the city for himself.”
I snort out a laugh “And you think one measly little ring can do all that?”
“Yes,” Ameera says. “And he won’t stop with just Unity. He’s too power hungry to be satisfied until he controls everything he can get his hands on. No one in a position of power like Lynch should be allowed to have it. It would be a bloodbath.”
I shoot a disbelieving glance at Van, and I’m surprised to see him nodding in agreement. I want to ask him if he told Ameera that he already stole the ring from Conor Buckley and gave it to Móira, and what the hell his mother plans to do with it, but I don’t know how much Van wants Ameera to know.
Van’s expression turns resigned. “Then we have a serious problem because I already stole the ring from Buckley for Móira,” he says, inexplicably answering one of my questions as Ameera’s eyes widen in surprise. “I touched the ring before handing it over to her and felt its power. It’s very real. I’d like to assume Móira wants it for the same reason Lynch does, but my mother is anything but predictable.”
“Wouldn’t she have used it by now if she was going to?” I ask, ignoring the perplexing fact that he seemed to have read my mind.
“Not necessarily,” Van replies. “I wouldn’t put it past her to hide it away and wait for the moment she deems perfect to use it. Patience is definitely one of her strong suits.”
“Unlike Lynch and his affinity for instant gratification,” Ameera adds with a disgusted expression. “But either way, neither can be allowed to keep the ring.”
“Let me guess,” I say. “You think the Mari Maeștri should have it. Like that’s any better?”
“No,” comes Ameera's immediate and vehement reply. “And I have no plans to tell them about its existence, either. I think it should be destroyed.”
Well, that’s not the answer I expected, and though I know she could be lying, something tells me she’s not. I can’t imagine Van had any kind of relationship with her, if she wasn’t at least partially honorable. I can see that now that my jealous rage has faded enough for me to think clearly.
“So what now?” Ethan asks. “Do we steal the ring back from Móira?” His eyes glitter green as his mouth curves into a predatory smile. “Because I’m all for screwing that fae bitch over.”
“Well, if that thing is as dangerous as she says,” Mercer adds as he nods toward Ameera. “Then Móira certainly shouldn’t be allowed to have it anymore than Lynch should.”
“And once we get it back, how do we destroy it?” I ask, noting Van’s tense demeanor.
“We’d need a powerful and disciplined mage we can trust for that,” Ameera says. “From what I understand, its power is hard to resist.”
I immediately think of Anson Hale. If any mage can handle this, it’s him. He’s strong, skilled, completely trustworthy, and has no interest in amassing power for himself. Hell, he didn’t even want to lead the Unity Coven’s mage council, but did it anyway out of a sense of moral obligation.
“I might know someone we can convince to help us,” I suggest.
“Good,” Ameera says. “Then all we need is a plan to relieve Móira of the ring and then-”
Van lets out a sudden snarl of frustration. “Have you all forgotten one important fucking thing?” he asks as he glares around the table at the rest of us. “I can’t act against my mother.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Ameera asks with a sneer.
“What part of the bargain I made with Móira can’t you understand?” Van bites out. “I’m in an immutable position that I can’t do anything about. I’m not going to risk everything by-” He cuts himself off, his frustration bleeding into me. “You know what?” he says more calmly, with a shake of his head. “I’m not having this same old argument with you, Ameera. It’s fucking pointless.”
He jerks his hand from mine and stands, pushing his chair back and yanking his aura away from mine as he does. Then he stalks out of the kitchen without another word or even a backward glance. The rest of us stare after him in shock, before Ameera rises from her chair.
“Don’t,” I snap at her. “You’re the last person he needs right now.”
“And you are?” she replies with a hard glare as she sits back down.
“I’m exactly what he needs,” I answer.
Then I stand to follow Van, trying my best to ignore the deeper and more profound truth of my words and the sudden realization that he just might be exactly what I need, too.