XAVIER SHATTERED the final chain holding him to sleep and sprang off the bed with a roar of rage that had every one of his vampires shivering where they lay sleeping up and down the hallways of the vault. Fresh information flowed to his thoughts, driven by his awareness of every soul who lived within the Fortalesa, every person who was his to protect. From the eldest avi to the youngest nena, Xavier was aware of them all on a gut level that was difficult to describe to one who’d never experienced it. He simply knew.
And that was how he knew that all of the children were home and safe. He could sense the mood of his people, and while there was anger simmering below the surface, the dominant emotions were joy and relief, tempered by a lingering concern. He shared all those emotions, but it was anger that drove him.
He paused a moment, standing perfectly still as his power swept the entire Fortalesa once more, skimming over the familiar, searching for the unknown. Of which there were several.
Concentrating, he reached out to a mind that was as familiar as his own. “Chuy,” he said, jolting his lieutenant out of his daylight sleep an hour or more before he would have done so naturally. The older and stronger the vampire, the earlier he woke and the later he was driven to sleep. As a powerful vampire of nearly four hundred years, Xavier wasn’t forced into his daylight sleep until the sun was fully over the horizon, just as he woke while the evening sky was still bright and the sun’s orb barely visible below the earth’s edge. Chuy was one of his own children, nearly two hundred years old and a powerful master vampire in his own right. He couldn’t match Xavier’s strength, but he was closer than any other in the Fortalesa.
“Sire.” Chuy’s mental voice was slightly groggy, but alert to the fact that something was very wrong. Xavier wouldn’t have wakened him otherwise.
“We were attacked today, and the children kidnapped. They’ve been rescued and returned, but there are strangers inside the Fortalesa. I want every vampire up and alert within the hour. Meet me in my office in thirty minutes. That should give me enough time to discover the identity of our visitors and gather in Layla for a briefing.”
“Sire.”
Xavier cut the connection without useless niceties. There was a time for politesse. This was not it. His first impulse was to damn the niceties, throw on clothes, and storm upstairs to assess the situation. But reason stopped him on the verge of opening the vault door. If he appeared among his people raging and incoherent, it would only add to the terror of the day, and do nothing to assure them that their families were safe and the criminals would pay.
He kept the black jeans he’d already pulled on, but ripped off the T-shirt and walked back to the bathroom. He ignored the shower. Reason hadn’t prevailed to that extent. But he did brush his teeth and give his face a brisk wash with cold water, then ran wet hands back through his long black hair, which tended toward unruliness if left to its natural state. His beard, he decided, was just long enough to pass for an intentional scruff, which was a good thing because he had no intention of taking the time to shave.
Now marginally more presentable, he went to his closet and donned a long-sleeved black T-shirt, then sat to pull on socks and lace up combat-style boots. He’d be hunting tonight, one way or another.
He walked down an empty hallway in the vampire wing, the only vampire powerful enough to already be fully alert and functional, although Chuy and Joaquim were both awake and had communicated their readiness. Having gotten a better sense of the mood in the Fortalesa and knowing there was no immediate danger, Xavier sent them additional orders regarding the scouts’ information and the need to clean out the rogue vampire nest they’d found.
As for the strangers he’d detected inside the Fortalesa, he was beginning to believe they were Layla’s fellow fighters, although there was one . . . a young female, he thought, who was giving off such strong and violent emotions that she had to be someone other. Not a friend. A prisoner, perhaps, he thought with vicious satisfaction. He would enjoy nothing more than interrogating an enemy prisoner. He would scrub her brain, until he’d discovered every hope, every secret, every fear she possessed. Until there was nothing left but spongy scars in a hollow skull.
His first thought upon emerging into the fresh herb smell of the courtyard outside the vampire wing was to search for Layla. A glance up at her parents’ second floor apartment found it dark and unoccupied. He strode into the small, protected courtyard, leaving it behind where it merged with the larger main yard. He passed the hospital—quiet and dimly lit with no fresh agony flavoring the emotions of either patients or medics. Stepping farther into the yard, he immediately caught the scent of fresh blood and looked right, toward the far end, where an unfamiliar vehicle was parked in front of the barracks. It was completely black, with tinted windows, and wheels that had been blackened until there wasn’t even a glimmer of light to betray its presence. Tonight, however, the cargo door was open, the interior light revealing three people, including Layla, who were unloading various bags and pieces of gear.
He turned in that direction, but paused when he saw a big, blond man exit the barracks, put his arms around Layla, and bend his head to murmur something against her ear. She laughed and shoved him away, but they were both grinning when she swung a canvas duffle over her shoulder and entered the barracks, turning right beyond the door, where the sleeping quarters were located.
Brian, Xavier thought. Layla’s good friend. And she’d brought him here, to his Fortalesa. If it had been any other day, he’d have considered the man’s presence a mild irritant and let it go, confident in the knowledge that Layla was his. But it was this day—a day he’d spent helplessly trapped in sleep while his people were attacked, their children taken. And it had been this Brian who’d gone with Layla to rescue the children who were his to protect.
Just as Layla was, quite simply, his.
“INCOMING,” BRIAN said softly, when Layla returned for a second load.
“What?” she asked, then looked up to see trouble with a capital X striding down the long length of the yard. Wanting to put some distance between what looked like an enraged vampire lord and her people, she took several steps in his direction before she was drawn up short by his appearance. His eyes were shining with power, that odd pewter glow eclipsing his irises completely. But it wasn’t only his eyes that told her he was angry. Xavier was a big man. Three inches over six feet, with a broad chest and thickly muscled shoulders and thighs. And every one of those muscles was taut with rage, his powerful hands clenched to highlight the strength in his arms and shoulders. He was still beautiful, maybe more than she’d ever seen him. But then, she’d never seen him this angry.
He didn’t speak to her at first, but looked over her shoulder to where Brian stood watching, his stance ready to defend her if necessary.