Page 33 of Patrick’s Seduction (Scanguards Vampires #19)

33

I t took almost an hour to get back to Scanguards headquarters. Despite it being daytime, it was busier on the executive floor, which was reserved for vampires and their mates only, but Patrick wasn’t surprised. He’d asked Amaury to put a call out to the entire vampire and hybrid staff to report for duty, even though most of them normally worked nights only. It was all-hands-on-deck to find Cameron and subdue the werewolf threat.

Whom he hadn’t expected to see was Striker Reed. He and Amaury were waiting in Samson’s office. He hadn’t seen the tracker the vampire council had employed to find vampires who didn’t want to be found for quite a while. Why he’d left the council’s employ—and why they’d let the best man they’d had leave—was anybody’s guess. Striker wasn’t one to offer information if he wasn’t forced to, and even then, he’d rather bite his tongue off than talk. Still, he liked the taciturn vampire with the grim expression, because he’d helped find Isabelle’s kidnapper almost two decades earlier, and more recently, he’d helped them out when Samson and Cain, Grayson’s now-father-in-law, had been kidnapped.

With an outstretched hand, Patrick approached Striker. “Striker, it’s good to see you.”

He nodded and shook his hand. “Patrick.” Then his gaze slipped past him to Fallon. “So, this is the reason we’re starting a war with the werewolves?” He clicked his tongue. “Not that I can blame the guy. She certainly has something…”

“Careful,” Patrick said, his jaw tight, not liking the way Striker let his eyes roam over her body. “Yes, this is Dr. Fallon Doyle, and you’d better keep your comments and your hands to yourself.”

A humorless chuckle rolled over Striker’s lips. “I see. Now things are getting clearer.”

Patrick turned to Fallon. “Fallon, this is Striker Reed. He was a tracker for the vampire council, one of their best, actually.”

“Nice to meet you, Striker,” she replied.

“Sure,” Striker said, since clearly a response like likewise or nice to meet you too was too much to ask for.

“What brings you out during daytime?”

He jerked a thumb toward Amaury. “Got a call that you need information on werewolves.”

“What do you know about them?” Patrick asked eagerly.

Striker shrugged. “A fair amount. I’ve run into a few in my time.”

“Fill us in,” he urged him. “We know practically nothing about them, other than that a bite will turn a human, and that they automatically shift during the full moon.”

Striker rubbed his neck. “Yeah, well, not exactly. Just like vampires, they are either born into the life or bitten. The werewolves born into it don’t have to shift during the full moon. They’re in control over when to shift at all times.”

“And those bitten?” Fallon asked, anxiety evident in her voice.

Striker shifted his gaze to her. “Like you? They’re compelled to shift during the three days of the full moon.”

“But I’ll learn to control it like the others, right?”

“No.”

“But Fallon was able to fight it for a while, after she drank my blood,” Patrick interjected. “So there must be—”

“You let her drink your blood?” Striker shot back, arching an eyebrow.

At the implied reprimand, his jaw tightened. “She needed it; it helped her.”

“Hmm. Well, as long as she didn’t do it during sex.”

His heart stopped for a moment.

“What do you mean by that?” Fallon asked, sounding panicked.

“That’s how werewolves mate,” Striker explained.

“Amaury,” Patrick said, looking at his colleague, “I thought you said that the male werewolf has to bite the female during sex to mate with her.”

Before Amaury could reply, Striker interrupted, “He’s right, in the case when both are werewolves. But when only one partner is a werewolf, no matter if it’s a male or a female, that werewolf’s bite during sex will result in them being mated.”

A gasp escaped from Fallon’s mouth, and Patrick met her gaze. He reached for her hands and felt them trembling.

“I didn’t mean to,” she murmured, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He shelved her chin on his fingers and tilted her face up so she had to look at him. “I’m not. I want to be your mate. I would have asked you once all this is over.”

Tears ran down her cheeks, and his heart broke. Did she not want to be his mate? Did she not love him enough?

“But if you don’t want me,” he started, swallowing away the disappointment, “then I’ll—”

“I want you,” she interrupted, sniffling. “But you can’t possibly want this.” She freed her hands from his and made a gesture indicating her body. “I’m a beast. I can’t control this.”

Relief flooded him. Fallon wasn’t rejecting him. “I love you no matter what. We can beat this together.”

She nodded, suppressing the tears, then looked past him. “Is there a way to reverse this?”

“The mating? No.”

“No, not the mating. Me, my condition. Me being a werewolf,” she corrected him.

Striker shrugged, hesitating. “Hmm. Nah… no.”

She walked closer toward Striker. “You hesitated. There is something, isn’t there? There’s a way.”

Striker let out a breath, and Patrick noticed that he was carefully weighing his next words.

“Out with it, Striker,” Patrick demanded. “What are you not telling us?”

Striker raised his hands in a gesture of capitulation. “I’m not gonna give any guarantees, and it’s really just a rumor. There might be nothing to it, so don’t sue me.”

“What is it?” Fallon pleaded. “Please. I need to know.”

“Well, there’s this rumor that a newly minted werewolf can turn back to being human if his or her maker dies before the third night of that new werewolf’s first full moon.”

“This is my first full moon,” Fallon said excitedly, the tears suddenly drying.

“And only the first night is behind us,” Patrick added, feeling the same excitement. Finally, a kernel of hope. “We have two more nights.”

“Hold it,” Striker said, “like I said, it’s just a rumor. I can’t guarantee that it works.”

“We have to try,” Patrick said, meeting Fallon’s eyes.

She nodded, but then another expression washed over her face. “I’ve never killed anybody. I don’t know that I can have that on my conscience.”

He took her hands and pulled her to him. “You won’t have to kill him. I will. Or one of my colleagues. He’s killed three people that we know of. He needs to be put down. There’s no other solution. He could never be in a prison. He would be a danger to the other inmates. He deserves to die.”

“That was never really a question, Fallon,” Amaury added. “Even if it’s only a rumor, it changes nothing about the fact that Cameron is a cold-blooded killer and needs to be eliminated before he kills more innocents.” He paused for a moment. “Patrick, what happened with the Gallaghers?”

“Kind of what I expected,” he replied. “His father claims that Cameron died two months ago and couldn’t have killed the jogger in the Presidio or hurt Fallon. He was lying. His other son, Byron, kind of gave it away. It was written all over his face. Cameron is alive, and his family is helping him cover up his crimes.”

Striker tipped his chin in Fallon’s direction. “Do they know what Cameron did to you?”

“Yes,” Fallon said, “I told them.”

He grunted. “Hmm. Bad move. Now they know there’s a werewolf without a pack running around. They’re not gonna like it. They’ll try to claim you as theirs. To strengthen their pack. You’re new blood; it’ll keep their bloodline strong.”

“I would never go with them,” Fallon gritted.

Striker tilted his head. “Yeah, well, you might not have a choice. They won’t give up so easily. I’m surprised they let you leave at all.”

“There were five of us, four hybrids and a witch.”

Striker nodded to himself. “That means there were only two or three werewolves close by. They probably didn’t like the odds, particularly with a witch in the mix.”

“That’s why I brought Wes,” Patrick said. “So, Striker, since you’re already up, wanna help us find Cameron?”

“I’m available for hire.”

“And I have my father’s checkbook. Let’s roll.”