Page 52 of Broken Bonds

“If you don’t mind, that’d be appreciated.”

“And as much as I’d love to, I’m not in the mood to fuck around with him today. Todd, I mean.” He paused. “I mean, I know that doesn’t make sense, now that I think about it.”

I climb out of bed and walk around to him, offering him my hands and pulling him up and into my arms. “We had a fight, you called me out, and you have every right to feel the way you feel.”

He tips his head back to stare at me. “Wow. Look at you being all insightful and shit. And you say you don’t think you’ll be a good father.”

I nip his bottom lip. “See? I do listen to you. Sometimes. Maybe not as soon as I should, either.”

He smiles, and that turns into an infectious laugh that brightens my morning.

We grab our showers and eat breakfast before heading our separate ways. He’ll return to the office before lunchtime, because he handles things for me not only as my mate, but as my business partner.

Because running the pack and our holdings is serious business.

I’ve only been there for about ten minutes when something pings my attention, and I look up from where I’m reading my morning e-mail at my desk. I hear a car approach and pull into the gravel drive that leads to our paved parking area.

When the engine shuts off, I sit back when I hear the car door open because I sense…something about the incoming visitor.

My hackles fully go up before the front door even opens and it can only mean one thing.

I’ve already darted out of my office and into the lobby before my AA has a chance to greet the newcomer.

“Who are you?” I growl at the man, who’s wearing a long, dark blue cloak that sweeps the ground with a deep hood that shadows his face, and long leather gloves.

He slowly pulls the hood back, exposing his head and face, and keeps his hands up in front of him. “I just need to speak with you, Jax.”

“How do you know my name?” I don’t bother drawing the gun holstered along my back waistband because it wouldn’t do any good. But I did grab a wooden pencil from my AA’s desk as I passed, and I keep it in my right hand.

“Because you’re the Alpha of the Ocala Pack. Mike Crowe told me to ask for you if I ever needed help, and I need help.”

“My father told you to ask for me?” Pops has never mentioned sending a vampire my way, and I’m certain that’s something he wouldn’t forget to tell me.

He keeps his hands up. “I met him two years ago out in Denver. At the time, I didn’t have any need to speak with you and never pursued it.”

“So what’s changed now?”

He looks grim. “I’m from Memphis. I’m one of four remaining vampire members of our nest. I come not only in peace but in desperate need and am throwing myself on your mercy. Our nest was attacked. We have children, younglings, human mates, and familiars in danger. Thirty-two in total. Whoever infiltrated our security knew exactly what they were doing, or had the money to buy the manpower and know-how to do it. I’m afraid you may also be on their hit list. Along with others—shifters, fae, witches, and vamps.”

I wrinkle my nose. To me, vampires have always smelled cold, sharp, like the dirt floor of a damp cave in winter. There are a lot of misconceptions about them, which they are usually fine with remaining unchallenged, because it means people fear them and normally steer clear of them.

The average human will never know they’re encountering a vampire indoors or at night, unless the vampire reveals that nature to them.

Or the vamp accidentally loses their cloak outside on a sunny day—that shit’s true. They can’t take sunlight, and more than a minute or two of direct sunlight will severely burn them.

And they definitely do not fucking sparkle.

Smoke, sizzle, scream? Yep, they do that.

Over the past couple of hundred years, what petty territorial disputes there were between shifters and vamps and other non-human species pretty much died out in lieu of each species focusing on our respective survival. Live and let live, because humans are our common enemies. But it’s rare for vampires and shifters to team up.

Looks like that’s about to change.

I indicate he can put his hands down. “Stand right there.” I pull out my phone with my free hand and, with it in speaker mode, I dial Pops.

He answers on the second ring. “What’s up, Jax?”

“Sorry for the early phone call, Father. I’m standing here in the office lobby staring at a male vamp from Memphis who said you referred him to me in Denver two years ago.”