Page 15 of The Healer

Noah caught his fist then tossed it at him. “Stop it. I’m your best friend. Listen to what I’m saying, brother-in-pack.” He sighed, put the car in gear, and accelerated when the light changed to green. “After we deal with Callie, head to the cabin and let your bear out. Some fresh air might calm you a little, buy you time until you can go on vacation.”

Rhys grunted. Noah spoke the truth, but Rhys’s sight still pulsed red with pent-up fury. He wanted to rip off limbs, to sink his teeth into flesh, preferably a deer’s haunches. Biting a woman’s shoulder during sex claimed her, and he didn’t want to be stuck with a lifetime mate because he couldn’t control himself.

So relieving the stress with sex was a no. “Is the lake restocked?”

Noah’s shoulders slumped, and he flicked Rhys a grin. “Always. Imported salmon for our delectation.”

“The full moon’s near. It might be best if I made myself scarce.”

“I wish I could.” Noah smirked. “You’ll have to peruse the hopefuls at some point, Rhys. One of them might be—”

“I know. I just don’t need to deal with that now. Let’s get the pack settled, cared for, and maintain what we have before I bring a woman into this.”

“If Gabe died?”

Rhys laughed, but it lacked humor, as if his life had taken on the dull grays of monochromatic cinematography. “How does an ancient vamp die?” He shook his head. “She loves him, and his death won’t mean she’d seek comfort in my arms. Callie is a fighter. She would stand on her own. And besides, her blood is at the center of this. I just need to find a woman with the same lineage.”

“Easier said than done.” Noah stopped the car in front of an eight-foot brick wall. Barbed wire and electric fencing along with patrolling men in black would have any passerby think this was a military base.

He lowered the window, and Rhys dipped his head to glare at the guard.

He waved them in, no expression marring his features.

Rhys frowned. “How do they live like that? Emotionless.”

In a pack world, everything was emotional, the more intense the better. His initial reaction to Callie had been a bombardment of lust, admiration, and awe. One sniff of her essence and his bear had roared, demanding he claim her.

“They’re vamps. We’re only now beginning to understand them.” Noah drove along the paved driveway, and the rolling green hills on either side had impeccable gardening. Both screamed money. The mansion ahead was in stark contrast to their lodge.

“We don’t live as long as them, but fuck, surely we can make wise investments.” Rhys shifted in his chair, trying to calm his frustration. Money would help his people and ease their lives.

“Well, maybe aligning with the suckbloods was a good strategic decision.” Noah grinned. “Maybe meeting Callie was the best thing for Knights Ridge.”

“Let’s just deal with the now before you start congratulating me on future successes.” Rhys slid his bulk out of the SUV, raising his gaze to the towering mansion’s façade.

The architecture was Greek with a bit of Russian thrown in. Bronze domes serving as lookout points glittered in the sunlight. The de Winter hold was a sprawling Italian structure, with two levels and dungeons below. Dimitri’s was three levels of breathtaking architecture. There were other buildings on either side. The doors of one said garages, but it seemed too small for the number of vehicles Rhys suspected they owned.

“Well, well, to what do I owe the honor?” Dimitri Vasiliev danced down the steps, greeting them with a hug and handshake as if they were old acquaintances. His white-buttoned shirt was crisp and his dark-gray slacks tailored.

Rhys grimaced at his dirty denims and a plain T-shirt that had permanently stretched into the shape of his shoulders and chest.

Ebony curls cascaded over Dimi’s piercing green eyes. A deep inhale revealed his species with old blood, money, and power resonating off him. Yet, along his throat ran an intriguing, jagged scar. Sunlight didn’t kill a suckblood, only weakened them. And they healed like shifters. So what would leave a scar? Rhys pondered this each time he saw Dimi, and one day, when he could gather his balls in hand, he would ask.

Not that Rhys feared the suckblood. No, but something like a jagged scar tended to have a matching emotional one. At the moment, if Dimi decided to take offense at his probing, Rhys wasn’t energized enough to fight him off.

George had played a role in solidifying their alliance. She had taken to Dimi, and since children were impossible for suckbloods, protecting her had become a serious matter for him. He had tasked his pal’tsy to guard her despite Callie and Gabe adopting her. Who was more skillful than the Huntress? Rhys snorted, drawing a startled look from Noah.

“We’re here to discuss…Callie.” He leaned his backside against the fender.

“What’s to fear?” Dimi gestured with his chin for them to follow.

Rhys trailed him inside. A three-level atrium with marbled flooring and a dual staircase dominated the foyer. Doors led off on both sides and down the center was a passage with more doors.

Dimi strode through the first door on the left, into a parlor with large leather couches, wall-to-wall bookshelves, and a roaring fire. The dark wooden panels added to the welcoming warmth of the room, along with the thick Persian rug and sturdy antique coffee tables. Everything looked new but smelled old. Shit, Rhys would be happy with furniture not threatening to splinter.

“Beer, whisky, cognac?” Dimi offered.

“Anything.” Rhys shrugged and sank into a chair that didn’t squeak under his weight. He rubbed the smooth brown leather and inhaled the sweet fragrances of smoke and cherries.

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