Free to Love (The Tribe MC: Chase of Prey Book 3) Page 2

  They couldn’t do anything about the stink of cordite that lay heavy on the air or the piles of ashes that drifted heavenward. They hastily swept away the bits of broken glass from the outside of the circle so that it would not damage the tires of their vehicles, then each family limped off into the night.

  Sebastian helped Cara aboard his bike. He climbed on in front of her and she wrapped her arms around his lean waist. The bike rumbled to life, sending powerful vibrations throughout her entire body. She leaned forward, resting her cheek against his broad back, smelling the scent of sweat and blood. Her eyes closed as the bike glided smoothly over the asphalt and out onto the highway beyond.

  They were traveling in and amongst both Fallen and Tribe. The bikes were huddled together between the RVs and other vehicles. Everyone seemed intent on protecting that them: the new Queen of the entire Tribe and the new King of this particular pack of Fallen.

  Cara wasn’t thinking about any of that. All she was thinking about was the easy way that Sebastian rode that deep-throated motorcycle across the land. Her body reacted instinctively to his every motion. When he leaned, she leaned. Her thighs and arms tightened as they took the curves quickly; Sebastian was an accomplished rider and he never let her fall.

  The vibrations continued to rumble up, stroking along her almost naked lower body. The sensations were decadent and irresistible. Her nipples hardened and her ass cheeks clenched as she struggled to keep her juices from spilling out onto the leather of his seat.

  The long scarves and wraps the she had worn to dance were scant protection against the wind that was buffeting against them, but his body was a bulwark against the worst of it. The tears that she could not allow anyone else to see fell from her eyes and soaked into his t-shirt. He took one hand off the handlebars long enough to rest his fingers lightly on her knee.

  His silent comfort meant more to her than any words could have. He knew that she needed to cry, and he knew that she needed to do so privately. The wind dried her tears, but she knew that the stains of those tears would remain behind.

  The caravan wound down the roads toward the house that the Tribe had lived in ever since their arrival in New Orleans. Cara lifted her head, staring in shock at the blue lights flashing across the Garden District. The caravan turned off the road a block before the turn that would have led them to the house.

  She shouted into Sebastian’s ear, “What is it? What is going on?”

  “I don’t know!” Sebastian shouted back at her, but the words were snatched away by the wind.

  Nico took the lead. Cara had no idea where they were going, only that he was telling them what route to take. They didn’t get very far before she began to recognize the streets; they were heading to the warehouse where the Tribe hid a great deal of their bootleg merchandise.

  But before they got there, they suddenly turned off again, and Cara felt a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach: that place was not safe either.

  They wound down the streets beyond the warehouse. She had time to look back briefly; cars and news vans surrounded the warehouse. Bright lights were flashing into the windows of the darkened warehouse.

  What was going on?

  Sebastian had tensed. She could feel his muscles bunching below his clothes and she knew how dangerous that was on the motorcycle. His aura was a dirty muddy color, telling her that he was confused and angry.

  He pulled out from the middle of the caravan, dashing to the front. Cara clung to him and her seat. They drew abreast of Nico and Sebastian made a gesture with his hand. Nico nodded and Sebastian took the lead.

  The streets of New Orleans never slept, this evening was no exception. Fortunately, large RVs were not an unusual sight. As long as they stayed out of the narrow, congested streets of the French Quarter and the Garden District, they would be okay. Sebastian led them toward the house of the Fallen, but as they approached, Cara felt a pulsing evil emanating from it.

  “Don’t stop!” Her thighs tightened around his waist and her fingers dug into his rock hard abdomen.

  Sebastian didn’t question her and she knew that he didn’t have to. The windows of the house were shattered, the lawn ripped and shredded, the grass marred by the tracks of heavy vehicles. Whatever was going on, it was widespread.

  The night sky hung over them, the silver–white stars pricking the ebony fabric and sending down scant light as Nico once again took the lead, heading down a highway without looking back. They all followed him, Tribe and Fallen alike. There was nothing else to do and nowhere else to go. Whatever it was that Nico had in mind would have to be enough.

  Cara watched the trees as they slipped past. The highway markers cast shimmering golden light across the dark ditches on either side of the road. Kudzu hung in long tangled strands from the treetops. On her bare skin and in her nose, the air was chilled and held a salty, fishy tang.

  They went past the docks and beyond. The highway was impersonal, heavily laden with traffic. Cara wanted to believe that the traffic would help shield them, keep them safe. But she couldn’t let herself believe it. There was no such thing as safety, not for them.

  CHAPTER 4

  The cops had come down and they’d come down hard. Every club the Fallen and the Tribe owned had been shut down. DEA agents were crawling all over the houses; all the bank accounts had been closed. They had known that was happening but the scope of it was breathtaking. They had left nothing in their wake.

  The cash that Nico had kept in stashes across the city was being unearthed. The people who’d known where the money was hidden had ended up either dead or in jail; it didn’t take long to figure out that the same thing was happening to the Fallen.

  It was on the news, which most of them were watching on their mobile devices. Looking around at the people gathered close to their phones and tablets, or huddled inside the RVs where they could pick up satellite signals, made Cara chuckle even as it made her sad.

  What would the Tribe of old say if they could see them now? Would they be amused or shamed by the path that they had taken? Here they were, relying not on their senses and their ability to learn things from nature but on news reporters with glued–on plastic smiles to tell them what was going on in the world.

  It was a very tense and dispirited group that was gathered at the huge old plantation house situated on the outskirts of the city. Many of the people gathered there were not people at all — they were Fallen. The Fallen had had a large amount of cash on hand and they had managed to get some of it out before the raid came down, but many of their hiding places had been cleaned out. None of the places that they had designated as safe houses were safe anymore, so they had taken shelter with the Tribe.

  They were not simply staying to escape the DEA agents or the vice cops. They stayed because the Fallen was being torn apart from the inside out. Their King was dead and his son, Gregory, was leading the revolt against order.

  Ion had known where almost everything was, but Nico was a secretive and incredibly smart man. He’d held back secrets, even from his daughter and the ones he trusted the most.

  This house was perhaps one of his best secrets, but they all knew that if they were being tracked by Gregory and his fellow rogues, they would be found eventually. The rogues would literally sniff them out.

  The old house was concealed by massive oak trees whose long limbs stretched across the road as if the trees were reaching for each other. Besides these dripping live oaks there was a grove of cypress, knobby and gnarled, that further screened the house from prying eyes. Those trees kept light from spilling out onto the small, almost forgotten two–lane highway that ran along the front side of the property.

  Even when one turned down that tree-lined alley they would not immediately see the house. Riding down the bumpy red clay road, Cara had to wonder if they had gotten lost. Her father seemed sure of where he was going, but she had not been, at least not until she saw the stark outline of the house rising up in the darkness.

  The house was
completely off the grid. There was no power, and while there was running water, it was pumped in by a series of conduits and a windmill that stood not far from the house.

  The RVs parked around the house cast their own light into the darkened windows while those within the house cleaned, trimmed and lit the oil lamps.

  Cara was grumbling over the lack of electricity went Sebastian walked past her and said with a cheeky grin, “I remember when electricity first came into being.”

  She turned to face him. “Sebastian, do you realize how that makes you sound?”

  “Like I’ve seen everything?”

  Cara gave him a sharp smile and retorted, “No, like one of those old men that sit around in the Square talking about the old days when sodas were a nickel and they had to walk miles across town just to go to school.”

  “There’s no need to be nasty, little girl.”

  Her face flushed with indignation. “I’m not a little girl!”

  Sebastian drew closer to her. He reached out one finger and gently brushed a smear of dirt from the tip of her upturned nose. “I know you’re not.” His voice was as gentle as his touch, but the desire that rose up in her was burning and intense. It would turn into a full–fledged conflagration if she was not careful.

  She looked at past him at the people gathered in the huge room that had once been a ballroom. Chairs had been brought in and furniture dragged in from other parts of the house so that everyone would have a place, but there were still people seated on the floor, staring wordlessly at the walls or off into the distance.

  “I can’t believe we’re all here together, Tribe and Fallen.” Her voice was hushed and filled with awe at the sight of these two powerful, ancient enemies finally coming together for a common purpose.

  “I know.” Sebastian’s fingers slipped down her cheek to the point of her jaw and tilted her head back so that she was looking at him again. “You know what the worst part of tonight was?”

  Cara’s heart thumped painfully. “No. What?”

  “Do you really need to ask?” Sebastian said softly. “It was watching you battle the rogues and not knowing if you were going to survive. I couldn’t stand it if you were not here. I know I sound a little corny, but… I spent two centuries living on this earth, and there have been a lot of times when I wondered why humans clung to life so desperately, why they were so determined to squeeze every last drop out of it instead of just letting go. There’s even been times when I wished I was human so that I could let go.” Sebastian looked deep into Cara’s eyes. “Then I met you and I realized exactly why people don’t want to die. You make me want to live forever.

  “I love you Cara. Out there tonight, in that circle with the rogues attacking and hell being unleashed all around us, all I could think about was how unfair it would be if I lost you now. And how little joy there would be left in this world without you.”

  Tears stood up in her eyes and she did not bother to blink them back. They slid down her face in little silver trails, splashing off her chin. “I love you too Sebastian. I don’t know how this happened, and I don’t know how this is going to work. We’re enemies.”

  He used his finger to wipe away her tears, the pad of his thumb resting lightly against her lower lip for a moment before his fingers turned her head back toward the shadowy living room beyond the doorway where they stood. “Look at them, Cara. Does it look like they are enemies? How you ever heard that old saying, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend?’ Because that is absolutely true here tonight.

  “What’s more, I think it’s no longer going to be possible for the Tribe and the Fallen to keep their distance from each other. We are too entwined now. Many of the pack took in those who were bitten, so now we have Tribe members who are now Fallen.

  “We have somehow become family, a part of each other. Maybe not the entire Fallen, but at least this pack now has reached deep within the Tribe and the Tribe has roots deep within us. I think we can dispense with the hostilities now.”

  “But for how long?” Her voice broke as she asked the question.

  “Forever. I love you, and I’m never leaving you. I’m sure as hell not going to let some stupid old tradition that had nothing to do with me to stop me from being with you. Are you willing to let that separate us?”

  Her lips trembled and she shook her head. “No. But I’m Queen of the Tribe.”

  “And I am King of the Fallen. I think we make a good pair.”

  A small laugh burst from her mouth and she clapped her hands over her lips in an effort to keep it from ringing out any further. Now was the time for solemnity, not merriment. Too many — Fallen and Tribe — lay dead. Too many humans who had ridden with both motorcycle clubs were also dead, ripped to shreds by the rogues.

  Dog was gone and so was Sammy. That last made her entire body ache with misery. It wasn’t fair. There had to be some way to stop the rogues.

  Sebastian said, “We should probably join the others.” He held out his arm to her in an incredibly old–fashioned gesture that touched her heart. She wound her hand through the crook of his arm and looked up him. “I love you, Sebastian.”

  Sebastian said, “I love you, too. Now let’s figure out a way to live happily ever after.”

  “I am not immortal, Sebastian.”

  “Neither am I.”

  They went into the room where Nico and the others were gathered. As soon as they entered people began to offer their chairs and pillows. Cara knew that that was because they were showing respect for their Queen and King, but her heart ached.

  Was this how it was always going to be? Were people she loved going to treat her differently now simply because she was Queen?

  Before she could stop herself, her mouth opened and she asked, “The ceremony wasn’t finished. I haven’t been declared Queen — so, am I Queen? Is there someone else who would rather be Queen? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  One of the girls that had been in the circle with her, a beautiful blonde woman named Marie, replied, “What, are you nuts? Nobody wants to be Queen! Not even the Queens who were Queen wanted to be Queen!”

  A ripple of laughter went around the room. Darlo’s grandson Kent stood and said, “Isn’t that the truth? Right before he died I heard my grandfather scream that the Cursed Queen’s son was in our midst. At first I thought he meant that one.” His pointing finger was aimed at Sebastian. “But I got to him right before he died and he whispered a secret to me… or maybe something that is not so secret to most here.”

  “Well, don’t just stand there Kent,” Cara said. “Spit it out.”

  “Most of us know that Queen Lana left the Tribe in disgrace. I grew up being told that she left because she used her magic badly, that she’d been corrupted by evil and that the Elders had decided that the best way to deal with her was to send her out and exile her forever. We all know that back then, even though it was barely 70 years ago, that was a far more powerful curse than it is now.

  “She went, but not before some of the women cast binding spells on her. They wanted to prevent her from ever having children. I always thought it was because she was so strong, and that they were afraid that if she had children, they might come back against the Tribe. I was right, but I was also wrong. The Elders were not afraid that she would have children with the gadjo — they were afraid she would have children with the one she left us for.

  “She left us for one of the Fallen. And that rogue, the one that can shape shift, can do so because he has his mother’s ability to shift within his veins. It’s in his blood. It’s in his bone. It’s her magic, handed down like DNA.

  “Lana could shape-shift. She passed that trait onto her son, and he has somehow managed to figure out how to pass that on to others as well. I think my grandfather was right when he said that the cursed Queen’s cursed son has come seeking his own revenge.”

  Cara’s blood ran cold. Sebastian looked thunderstruck. She leaned closer, allowing her hip to rest against his. His body supported he
r even as she lent him her own warmth.

  “But Gregory’s mother was killed by a rogue,” Sebastian said. “It was one of the reasons why my father went mad with grief. He was devastated by her death, and he never forgot her. I cannot understand for the life of me how Gregory turned my father into a rogue, or why my father would’ve agreed to become one, since a rogue cost him what he held most dear.”

  Nico said, “Perhaps he offered your father the chance to hunt down rogues in a way that he could not have within his Covenant–bound flesh. Or maybe he grew tired of stalking down cows and sheep on the ranches that your kind use to hunt.” At Sebastian’s surprised look, Nico smiled wryly and added, “Yes, we know how you have survived all these years. Who do you think helped to build those pastures? Many men right here in this room had ancestors who toiled long and hard to make those places for the Fallen.”

  Devon stepped forward. “Then why are we at such odds? If the Tribe has been so benevolent, why do we hate and fear you so?”

  Christian, one of the Fallen’s elders, stepped forward. When he spoke, his voice was grave and quiet. “Because they alone had the power to break the Covenant and force us to run as rogues. Without the Covenant, we would have all been reduced to animals and hunted into extinction long ago.

  “There was a lot of resentment, and a lot of anger. There will always be those who do not wish to follow the Covenant, who wish to be rogue rather than bound. Especially now that they know they can eat human flesh and still shift back to their human shapes.

  “When the Covenant was first established, Lycans were created. We had no control over how we shifted, and we resented being at the mercy of the moon. That was Queen Carida’s doing and there were many Lycans who blamed her for it.”

  Cara burst out, “But why? She did the best she could! Her magic had to be used every single second of every single day to keep that original pact enforced. It drained her dry. She was not even eighteen when she was crowned and she died at thirty, wrung out like an old dishtowel. She died on your behalf! How can you hate her so?”