Gypsy: Sons of Sangue Read online

  “What the hell is your problem? You want Miss Boobs?”

  “She has a name, Tamera. It’s Kimber.”

  “Well, excuse me all to hell and back.”

  Kimber entered the kitchen. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.” Anton leveled his gaze on Tamera.

  She supposed she should just clam up, go upstairs and put some clothes on, but she was not about to be treated less than his equal. And if they were to be mated, she wasn’t going to allow him to start bossing her around. Had she not feared being thrown out on her ass at this point, she might have dropped the towel and seen then how Anton might react.

  “I can come back at a better time,” Kimber said, gaining both their attention. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

  “Company?” Tamera didn’t give him a chance to discredit her or what they were. Even though she had yet to figure out if he was keeping his part of the bargain. Talk about a turnaround from the morning. Where had that Anton gone? “I live here, doll.”

  Kimber’s gaze widened again. She looked at Anton for confirmation.

  “She does.”

  “I see,” was all Kimber said before she turned and headed for the front of the house. “I’ll see myself out.”

  Anton set the basket down, then jogged after her. He gripped her biceps just as she reached the door. Before he could offer her an apology—or anything, for that matter—Kimber placed a hand on the center of his bare chest.

  “You don’t owe me anything, Anton. We’re friends. Nothing more.”

  “We fucked, Kimber. That makes us more than friends.”

  “Once, Anton. And trust me, it won’t happen again.” She looked past Anton’s large body at Tamera, who stood in the doorway of the kitchen, shoulder braced on the doorjamb. “Nice meeting you.”

  “Oh, the pleasure was all mine.”

  Even though hearing Anton had fucked Miss Boobs, she should have felt a bit of jealousy. Instead, she just felt sorry for Kimber. Hell, she certainly hadn’t asked to get stuck in the middle of the mess Tamera had created.

  “Good-bye, Anton,” Kimber said, just before heading out the door. “Keep the basket. I don’t need it back.”

  The wooden screen door slapped the frame behind her. Anton stood silently watching the leggy brunette walk back down his long drive. Then he turned to Tamera, his naturally blue eyes turning black.

  He growled. “You could’ve handled that better.”

  “And you could have been nicer to me today.”

  “I gave you a place to stay.”

  “You once wanted me for a mate. You’ve said as much on many occasions. What happened?”

  “Christ, Tamera.” He strode from the front door to the kitchen door where she still stood. “I haven’t stopped wanting you. I could strip the fucking towel from you now and carry you upstairs if I thought for a moment you wanted me that way. But you don’t.”

  Tamera didn’t know what to say. She wanted Grayson. Like it or not, she had a thing for the damn playboy vamp.

  “I’m sorry, Blondy.”

  “Then we have to do our damnedest to make Gypsy believe otherwise.”

  Her brow furrowed. “I don’t think I understand.”

  “I know Gypsy better than anyone. We’ve been friends for years, though the last nine months haven’t exactly been a walk in the park with him.” Anton tightened the towel around her. “If I know one thing, he’s used to getting his way with women. You turned him down and he tossed you out. Let’s give him what he thinks he wants. You and I to mate.”

  “And you think this will work in my favor how?”

  “I’ve watched the way he looks at you. Trust me, babe. He’s interested. He’s just too damn stubborn to admit it.” Anton stepped back, putting space between them and smiled. “If he thinks I’m fucking you, he’ll be livid. He won’t be able to handle it, and eventually he’ll realize it and want you back.”

  “And if he doesn’t? You’ll be stuck with me.” Tamera winced.

  “I could think of worse things.” He winked at her. “But Gypsy will come around because he won’t be able to stand the thought of my hands on you.”

  “Where does that leave you? I think I just messed up back there with you and Kimber. She seemed a little pissed.”

  Anton chuckled. “No worries. She’s just a friend. Well … was anyway. She does have great boobs, though.”

  “Seriously? I hadn’t noticed.” Tamera laughed with him.

  “You look like you might have a nice set yourself.” Anton motioned toward the stairs. “Go get dressed. We may have hatched a plan to get Gypsy to come around, but I’m still a vampire. Let’s not test my limits. And … I don’t think Kimber’s going to be open to taking care of my needs any time too soon.”

  Tamera walked over to Anton and kissed his cheek. “You really are one of the good ones, Blondy.”

  “Yeah, and it’s the good guys who always finish last. Now get dressed. We’re going to make an appearance at the clubhouse to drop off Gypsy’s belongings.”

  * * *

  Grayson couldn’t help wondering what the twins were up to, or Cara for that matter. They hadn’t so much as checked in, leaving Grayson musing over their early morning excursion. Anything could have gone wrong, from the Devils returning, to the cops showing up before Kane and Kaleb had time to ditch the captain’s body. The last thing they needed was to borrow trouble from a rival club, or the law at this stage in the game. If that were the case, then they might as well kiss all hopes of nailing the kingpin good-bye. Grayson wanted to see the son of a bitch brought down just as much as the twins. Ion Tepes didn’t deserve to go out the way he did. He had done nothing more than follow his bitch of a mother blindly.

  What Grayson wouldn’t do to be given the green light to take her out. She had caused the Sons enough trouble in her lifetime. She might very well be a primordial, but she wasn’t a true blood. Mircea had turned her centuries ago when he had fallen for her mother. He might not get the chance to rid the world of Rosalee, but Grayson would be the first in line to take out the cartel kingpin. He owed Kane for saving his sorry excuse for a life. Grayson had spent the last few hours watching Ryder and dreaming of ways to accomplish taking out the son of a bitch. The clubhouse had been unusually quiet, giving him too much time on his hands in which to channel his anger at Tamera. Christ, she had turned him down.

  Anton and Tamera came to mind and what they might be up to.

  He had made a decision, and he’d have to live with the ramifications. Too late for second-guessing, even if Suzi had voiced her opinion about Tamera being happier with him. Hell, even Grayson could see Anton was the better choice for a mate. The vampire was far more grounded. His own deep desire to fuck her had no business entering into the equation of keeping her for an eternity. Desire wasn’t infinite. It wouldn’t be long before Grayson and Tamera began to resent one another. That much was a given. So why the hell did the thought of Tamera in his best friend’s arms burn his ass? He should be happy to have rid himself of the thorn in his side, the ol’ ball and chain. He could now go back to dating who the hell he wanted with as many as he chose.

  Except Suzi’s parting words continued to haunt him. “Because I know Tamera would be happier with you. Whether or not you’re the better man.”

  Since his chat with Suzi, she had spent the remainder of the afternoon in her bedroom, leaving him to his thoughts. She had complained of a lower back pain. He sure hoped Kaleb hurried his ass back to the clubhouse. Last he checked, he hadn’t signed up for midwife duties. Delivering a baby wasn’t on his bucket list of things to do before he checked out. A shiver ran down his spine. He’d rather face off with a den of angry grizzly bears.

  A groan came from the sofa. Grayson set his glass of whiskey on the bar and skirted the counter. Ryder righted himself into a sitting position, pale as hell and looking much like death warmed over. His light brown eyes had transformed into obsidian marbl
es, signifying the change was near complete in record time. The man must have an extremely high metabolism, which would account for his leanness. His skin had the translucent death chill. He’d need to feed soon. Razor sharp fangs poked from beneath his thin upper lip. The change had nearly completed in less than a day. Amazing.

  Ryder rubbed his nape as he rolled his neck, sending a series of cracks down his vertebrae. He opened his mouth wide, cracking his jaw as well. Grayson could hear the soft pop of his bones from across the room.

  Ryder’s unwavering gaze landed on him. “What the fuck, man?”

  Needing to ease him into the truth, he asked, “What do you recall?”

  His hand covered his throat and the angry red healing wound. He ran his fingertips over the jagged line. “How the hell is it I’m even alive? Last thing I remember was those fucks slicing my throat. Then I don’t know. I blacked out … had some weird ass dreams, like drinking blood from your wrist, man.”

  He smoothed his tongue over the points of his fangs. “What sort of reality is this? I drink your blood and wake up with fangs? Am I still dreaming or is this purgatory, me having to pay penance for my sins?”

  “You’re not dead, Ryder. And you’re no longer dreaming.” Grayson grasped the bottle of Jack Daniels from the bar and approached the sofa, handing it to him. “I saved your sorry ass. If I wouldn’t have, you’d be lying in a morgue with a toe tag. You drank my blood, bro. That part wasn’t a dream. It changed your DNA, which aided in healing your neck wound so you wouldn’t bleed out.”

  Ryder took the bottle from Grayson’s outstretched hand and took a long pull, before wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. He pointed to the razor sharp points of his fangs. “Drinking your blood gave me these? What the fuck are you?”

  “Vampire.”

  “I’m dead.”

  Grayson chuckled. “You aren’t dead, dude. We aren’t the fictional Nosferatu someone dreamed up for Hollywood. We’re living, breathing beings who happen to drink blood to stay alive.”

  Ryder’s lips thinned. “I have to drink blood? For real?”

  “It isn’t that bad. Trust me on this one… You’ll develop a pretty strong taste for it.”

  His friend looked on the verge of bolting, as if putting distance between Grayson and the truth might make a difference. He wished there was something he could say to make Ryder understand they weren’t monsters. There were some things Ryder would have to come to realize on his own.

  “It’s better than the alternative. Look at it this way… You’re on the right side of the dirt and I just saved your relatives from having to fit you for a casket.”

  “What the hell am I supposed to tell my family?”

  “They never have to know. Well, until it’s obvious you don’t age. Then you may need to disappear from their lives.”

  “Great. How the hell am I supposed to leave them behind? You’ll have to excuse me if I’m not seeing all the benefits here. Jesus!” He fingered his neck again. “Vampires aren’t real. Dracula came from the legends of Vlad the Impaler. And that dude died centuries ago.”

  “Actually…”

  “Don’t.” Ryder held his hand out. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just try to correct me about some old ruler still living over five hundred years later.”

  Grayson shrugged. He supposed Ryder would meet him soon enough. After all, Vlad was far from done with Grayson. He’d no doubt show his face around the clubhouse again one day soon.

  “We aren’t dead. We’re flesh and blood … only better. We get to live forever. You drink blood, you stay young. Don’t drink it and you die. It’s your choice, bro.”

  Ryder ran his hands slowly down his face, exhaling. Grayson couldn’t help wondering what was going through his mind. He couldn’t force Ryder to drink blood. In the end, the choice was Ryder’s to live or die.

  “I can teach you. You aren’t alone in this. You’ll become one of us.”

  “How did I not know you weren’t human?”

  “We’re still human, with an animalistic side.”

  “You surf, man. Don’t you have to stay out of the sun or something, sleep during the day?”

  Grayson chuckled. “We won’t go up in flames. Though I may sunburn before most. And sunglasses help the light sensitivity of my eyes. Otherwise, we’re the same.”

  “Except for drinking blood. Do you kill people when you feed?”

  “No. We don’t require much and we have donors who are willing to share their blood. We can’t be killed as easily as a human. Our blood regenerates at a rapid pace, which is why drinking my blood healed your neck wound before you bled out. Anything that stops the heart instantly, though, will kill us.” Grayson managed a half smile. “You’ll become faster and stronger the longer you stick around. Your senses probably are already becoming more acute.”

  Before Ryder had time to acknowledge whether he felt any of the differences, the outside door opened and Alexander “Xander” Dumitru and Grigore “Wolf” Lupei strode into the clubhouse, drawing both their attention. Grigore laughed at something Alexander had said, earning him a punch to the biceps. All laughter died when they spotted Ryder.

  “Who’s the new blood?” Alexander wasted no time getting to the elephant in the room.

  His obvious animosity likely stemmed from the fact no club vote was taken whether Ryder should become one of them. Grayson supposed he had every right. After all, had it been the other way around, he’d be the first one questioning the lack of protocol. He quickly filled Alexander and Grigore in on the situation, how Ryder had been their informant and a good friend to Grayson. A smile warmed Grigore’s wolf-like face, then he crossed the room and stuck out his hand, which Ryder shook. Alexander, though, merely nodded, then walked over to the bar and pulled out a stool. Like normal, he was a man of few words.

  Grigore sniffed the air, then turned a quizzical look on Grayson. “Where’s your mate?”

  “Not here, Wolf.”

  “You’re here and she’s not.”

  “You’re point is?”

  Grigore smiled. “Only pointing out the obvious. No need to get all testy, Gypsy. You’re usually the absent one around here since Tamera’s come to live in the clubhouse. What’s changed?”

  “She no longer lives here.” Damn it, Gypsy didn’t feel like explaining himself. “And it’s none of your damn business.”

  One of Alexander’s brows rose. “You gave her to Blondy.”

  It wasn’t a question. Good thing, because Grayson wasn’t about to answer him. Instead, Suzi came waddling back into the room, hand in the center of her back.

  “Dumb ass sent her to Blondy’s,” Suzi said. “Which one of you want to find Hawk? His and Kane’s cells are going straight to voice mail, Cara is at the office, and I don’t think this baby is going to wait a moment longer.”

  Grigore’s jaw dropped and his face paled. “Shit. I’ll go. I ain’t about to deliver no baby.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Merda, Grayson wasn’t about to stick around for the festivities either. VP or not, he wasn’t about to deliver Hawk’s baby boy into the world. “Xander can stay with you and Ryder.”

  Alexander ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Guess we worry about Gypsy’s love life later. You two asses go find Hawk. Ryder, you stay the fuck there. Don’t make me knock your ass out. I don’t need trouble from you right now. I’ll make sure Suzi is taken care of.”

  Thankfully, GQ was willing to step up to the plate and get his hands dirty. Grayson couldn’t hit the road fast enough. He took his helmet from the hook by the wall, then headed for the door, quick on Grigore’s heels.

  “Make it speedy.” Suzi hollered after them as she made her way over to the unoccupied sofa. “I can only cross my legs so long. Damn it, this baby wasn’t supposed to debut for another few weeks. Leave it to Kaleb’s son to say otherwise.”

  The question was, Grayson thought as he closed the door behind him and headed for his bike, who in the hell
was going to call grandpa? He sure wasn’t giving Vlad a ring. He was the last person Grayson wanted to see at the moment.

  Just his luck, the day he gives Tamera to Anton, someone needs to inform Vlad Tepes his great grandson, many times over, was about to make an appearance. Which meant sooner rather than later, he’d be making his appearance in Pleasant and making Grayson’s life hell.

  Chapter 9

  So Vlad had called upon her stepfather. Meaning the arrogant son of a bitch was in Italy. For crying out loud. You would think someone could have alerted her to the fact. Had she known, she would’ve flown the coop days ago and hopped on the first plane to the States. She most definitely had a beef to settle over there, regardless of what Vlad had to say. The old fart had an ego the size of Europe. She was a primordial, and therefore, no matter what her agenda, Mircea wouldn’t allow his younger brother to harm her in any way. The bastard had to know if he even so much as tried, her stepfather would retaliate and go after all Vlad held dear, namely Kane and Kaleb. Haughty little peons.

  Rosalee snarled.

  It certainly would be nice for once to see Mircea do something about those two. They needed to be taught a lesson in manners. It didn’t matter if they were direct descendants of the Tepes family. Kane and Kaleb had so far avoided punishment for their bad behavior and disrespect of her family. Kane had so easily tossed her away like yesterday’s trash. And Kaleb … he should have been missing his head for Alec Funar’s execution. No one killed a primordial without ramifications.

  No one. Rosalee bit back the scream rising in her esophagus.

  Her stepfather had sat on his ass, allowing the slight go without repercussions. Mircea needed to grow a pair and go to the States and right the wrongs that had been done to her family. The reemergence of the bastard, Vlad the Impaler, alone should spur her stepfather into action. If Mircea didn’t ante up, then he might as well lie on the fucking floor and allow Vlad to wipe his Gucci boots on him. Regardless of what her stepfather had to say, she wasn’t about to sit around on her ass and take orders from the age-old ruler.