Page 47 of Mystic Mate
The vamps were at their weakest during daylight hours. Even if they were inside or had on protective clothing, they were sluggish and would be much easier to take on. The teams needed to know where the captives were being held. An infrared drone had shown at least fifteen warm-bodied shifters. They could only guesstimate the number of vamps, as they had no heat signatures.
The blood moon was set to rise in the early evening. The vampires most likely would wait until it had reached its zenith before starting their ritual.
As the sun broke over the eastern horizon, Salem and Cullen exchanged looks. Both knew the importance of this operation. If they failed, not only would the prisoners inside lose their lives, but if the ritual was completed, it would be the first step in weakening the resistance. The blood moon and its gory ritual would allow the vampires, at least the Wurdulaks, to emerge during the sunlight, moving around without encumbrance or restrictions.
The thought of the Wurdulaks joining as fully equal partners with the Shadow League was frightening.
“There’s a part of me that wonders if it wouldn’t be better to let it happen,” said Salem. “From what I know of the Wurdulaks, they aren’t going to be inclined to play nice or be subservient to the League. I think both sides believe they will dominate. We could turn them against each other.”
“True,” said Cullen. “The problem is how much damage will they do collectively before they turn on one another? Would anything good be left to take on the victor between them? Are you and Jinx sure about the last part of the prophecy?”
“As sure as we can be. The prophecy was pretty clear that the only way to stop the Wurdulaks and deal a deeply felt wound to the Shadow League is for us to fulfill our part of the prophecy—we have to become mates, which means you have to claim me and tear out a chunk of my throat.”
Cullen groaned. She had been teasing him about the claiming bite. He wasn’t sure which one of them she was trying to reassure, her or himself. She was right—the prophecy was pretty damn clear. The prophecy also hinted that because she was a witch, there might be magic stored in her DNA. She would feel her strength and energy increase, and the transition would come later… but it would come.
Through their comms, they could hear the fighting break out at the other entrance and the guard at their entrance running to help.
“Now, Cullen. Now!” she said, offering him her throat.
Every primal, feral instinct in Cullen took over. Amidst the sound of fighting at the other entrance, he lifted her chin, steadying her head between his powerful hands. Lowering his head, he kissed the spot just to the right of the hollow of her throat. His fangs elongated and he bit her savagely, tearing at her flesh and tasting her blood.
Salem struggled against his hold, but he was far too strong for her. Placing his hand over her mouth, he muffled her scream. As he continued to bite down, he could feel her weakening and he wondered for a brief moment if he hadn’t killed her. Before the thought could be completed, her hands came up to embrace his head and hold him close, binding her life to his.
A powerful, swirling maelstrom surrounded them as they were intertwined. There was thunder and lightning but instead of color, shards of ice surrounded them. It encompassed both of them. The ice shards began to change and become the magical colors of the aurora borealis. He could feel the power surging from his being to hers and back again.
In the blink of an eye, he could see their future, the children she would bear him; the legacy they would leave when they crossed to the other side together. She was a witch, although she hadn’t known it, and he was an arctic wolf-shifter. Their mating and her being turned was forbidden magic—a magic they had embraced. He knew any children born of such a union would eclipse all those who had gone before them.
He finally released his hold on her neck as the chaotic storm dissipated. It was the only time he’d ever been enveloped in the mist that he hadn’t emerged as his other self. Fortunately, they’d taken the precaution of bringing extra clothing. While their wolves hadn’t emerged, the mist had rendered them naked.
After quickly pulling on their clothes, they entered the fray, attacking those vampires that tried to escape them. Their people had been paired up. One would incapacitate the vamp either with flames or gunfire, and the other would stake them, leaving nothing but ashes behind. Side-by-side they fought their way to where the prisoners were being kept, the rest of the unit doing the same.
Salem was an incredible fighter. She was fearless and strong and had the courage of a she-wolf. She had given herself to him when she had known so little about their kind and about the way the shifter world operated. Cullen looked forward to showing his world to her, and to running their land together as mated wolves.
By the time they reached the cage suspended over a deep pit, Cullen felt as though he wanted to throw up. Apparently, some of the vamps hadn’t wanted to wait or had gotten greedy. They encountered numerous corpses that had been eviscerated and left for dead. Those in the suspended cage had been cut deeply and were bleeding freely. As soon as they heard the fighting, they began to swing the cage back and forth, trying to keep it from being lowered into the pit.
The vamps had set up a kind of obscene production line, where people’s veins were opened up before they were shoved into cages and swung out over the pit to pour their life’s blood into the pit. But what was in the pit? As if in answer, the ground deep beneath them began to tremble, and a terrible scream that was part rage and part pain echoed in the cave.
“What the hell is that?” said Shaw as he joined them.
“I don’t know, and I don’t think I want to find out. Get those people out of the cages and get them outside. Miska, set the explosives; I want to bring this whole mountain down around whatever might be in there. Shaw, call the choppers. Once we’re all clear, I want them to seal those entrances together, then shoot at the weak ground up along the ridge and bury the evidence we were ever here.”
He and Salem supervised getting the prisoners down. Several were concerned about her rapidly healing bite wound. Cullen knew it would leave a pronounced scar, but it seemed to be healing far more rapidly than any he had ever seen before. He hid a small frown. He had denied Salem the one thing she-wolves seem to take great joy in—the carnal bliss that they found in their mate’s arms that exceeded the pain from their claiming bite. His mate, his beautiful fated mate, had felt only the exquisite pain, but he would do everything in his power to make it up to her.
Salem was helping one of the people down from the bleeding platform, a lovely sitka deer-shifter. Salem paused and used one of the pillars to hold herself upright.
“Salem, come down from there. Go join Shaw outside with the prisoners,” he bellowed.
“I’m fine, Cullen.”
“Now, mate,” he ordered.
She climbed down from the platform. “I swear, I can almost feel what you’re feeling before you snarl at me.”
“That’s the bonding link, which means you’ll know I am serious when I tell you to go outside, join Shaw, and stay there.”
“I’m going, but only because I think the fresh air will do me some good.”
He turned her around and smacked her ass. “You will go because I tell you to.”
