A weight sank in Tucker’s gut. He’d forced himself to smile through a goodbye to Carl back in Buckhannon, thinking it would be the last time he saw his father. Wanting to leave him with good memories from their final time together. He never anticipated Carl following him. How was he going to explain to this man that he’d chosen to die?
“I…” Tucker started. “Dad…”
“There is going to be a battle, I’m afraid,” Jonas said, stepping in with his usual briskness, though there was a deep groove between his brows. “Tucker and myself. All of us will be fighting in it. For a worthy cause. But…” His throat worked. “A potentially deadly one.”
Tucker listened to his father’s pulse quicken. He expected the man to ask scientific questions or beg Tucker not to participate in the battle. Instead, Carl notched his chin even higher. “I volunteer for this battle.”
Silence. Until eventually Tucker forced a laugh, finding a spiky impediment lodged in his throat. “Dad, it’s not a human battle. You wouldn’t be remotely safe.” Tucker slashed a hand through the air. “No. I…look, there’s a good chance I won’t come back from this, all right?”
“It’s Mary, isn’t it?” Carl glanced toward the warehouse. “She isn’t here or she would be by your side. Your battle is for her, son?”
Tucker couldn’t speak, so he let his father see the answer in his eyes. Let him see everything. The emptiness, his willingness to make the ultimate sacrifice. And he’d never been prouder to be Carl’s son than that moment. When Carl swiped at his reddening nose and straightened his spine. “I will have my son’s back. Damn the consequences. I’ve lived too long in confusion and regret. I refuse to regret this. I refuse to be left out now when being…present matters most.” He jabbed a finger in Jonas’s direction, who raised an impressed eyebrow. “You can’t stop me, king vampire or not.”
“Well,” Jonas began in a drawl. “Technically I could stop you—”
“I will be on daddy-sitting duty,” Roksana sniffed, walking out of the shadow thrown by the warehouse, Elias close at her back. “I will make sure no one stabs him in the neck.”
“Roksana…” Tucker sighed, though there was a definite sting behind his eyes.
“A man kept from battle is a man unfulfilled.” She slapped Carl on the shoulder. “You will stick close to me, da? We will mutilate and make merry.”
Carl had stars in his eyes. “And who are you, my dear?”
“I am Roksana. Former vampire slayer. Daughter of the Queen of Shadows, but we don’t like to talk about that, since she tried to kill me. Very touchy subject.”
“Oh.” The older man nodded affably. “I see.”
Down went Carl.
Tucker caught him at the last second. “And we were making such progress.”
* * *
Mary clawed the windowsill, frustration and misery climbing the walls of her throat.
Down below, hordes of vampires and fae arrived. Wedding guests preparing to become allies in the underworld. They didn’t have any weapons, save the odd blade. And themselves. The beings below were ancient, in some cases, and their ability to manipulate objects and the atmosphere around them was dangerous enough on its own.
Four days had passed since Tucker left her and she felt every second of the separation. Reluctantly, Tilda had confirmed what Hadrian said. That once mated, a vampire cannot live long without his mate, but she was beginning to wonder if she’d survive. There was a rabid stirring in her stomach that wouldn’t abate. Her skin itched and her body wouldn’t stay still—so the fact that she’d been locked in this room was a horrible hindrance.
Mary wrung her hands and paced, her nerve endings enflamed. And she couldn’t help but compare the sensations to days earlier, when she’d sat in the passenger seat of Tucker’s car, her entire being demanding she have him. Demanding she give to him. The desire he’d stirred by defeating those slayers in the diner wild and urgent.
After days left alone with nothing but her thoughts, she’d come to the conclusion that something inside her had known all along she was Tucker’s mate. The hunger demanded to be fed now and the only thing it wanted was his touch, his bite, his presence.
She was going to go mad without it.
No exaggeration. She was finally living up to her nickname.
Gibberish words bubbled over her lips as she walked the length of her bedroom prison, her eyes heavy and red from lack of sleep. She was still wearing Tucker’s shirt. Tilda had forced her to bathe this morning, but she’d put the garment right back on, desperate to keep Tucker’s scent nearby. But it was no longer calming her, it was turning her more and more frantic. She had to get out of this room.
But how?
Hundreds of vampires and fae filled the manor’s grounds below. She could never escape surrounded by heightened hearing and sharp eyes. Even if she tried, she ran the risk of Hadrian taking his wrath out on Tucker.