Wicked Intentions (On Hold)

Chapter Thirteen

Tempest was jolted awake with warning shock being sent through her body by her s’ink. Glancing around the room she looked for what could have set her s’ink off, but saw nothing out of the ordinary; scrunching her eyebrows up in confusion she then scented the air, still nothing. Glancing lovingly down at her still asleep mates she hissed in shock when she saw their faces. They each had a single red laser pointed at their foreheads, the kind of lasers which would soon be accompanied by a silver bullet. Although the only surefire way to kill an adult werewolf was beheading it or ripping its heart out; there was a fifty-fifty chance they could die from a silver bullet to the head or heart. There were other ways to kill werewolves, but those were the most convenient. Even if they did survive being shot in the head they would remain in a healing coma that could last up to a century.

“Zack,” she sent out a mental signal to the mage, mages were able to speak with any creature even if they weren’t mated or in a pack.

“Yes doll?” came the response filled with arrogant amusement.

“What do you want?”

“Darling, I thought you would be smart enough to figure that out, all beauty no brains I suppose. I want what I’ve always wanted, you.” Tempest took a steadying breath as he continued, “Come to me now, without alerting your mates, and cut your mental connection with the dogs; I can’t have you planning with them behind my back. If you do this I won’t kill them, right now.”

“You are a coward,” Tempest hissed, “If you came after us in the day the outcome would be very different.”

There was silence before Zack responded, “Perhaps, but this way I get what I want, without the extra deaths of my men.”

Tempest examined her options, locking her furious cat away in the back of her mind before she could do something irrational. She could save one, maybe two of her mates if she was quick enough, but her third mate would certainly perish and she wasn’t sure she could survive that herself.

“We can fight,” argued her cat, clawing her way to the surface of Tempest’s mind again.

“Are you willing to risk Cain, Asher or Lucian’s life?” Tempest asked

“No,” her cat reluctantly responded, “But you are too eager to submit.”

“We aren’t submitting, we will never submit to him, but sometimes you have to stalk your prey and wait for the ideal moment to pounce.”

Her cat quieted, although she wasn’t happy, she was appeased.  Walking on to the attached balcony the cool night air brushed past Asher’s shirt that she had donned to tickle her skin. Tempest bent down a plucked a rose from the potted plant outside. The rose was red, it matched her bleeding heart at the moment. She didn’t regret falling for her mates; if she hadn’t fallen for them thing would be a lot easier, but what fun was an easy life?

“Hurry up sweetie, we don’t have all night.” Mocked Zack.

Not responding, Tempest turned back to the room and laid the rose on the now empty spot her head had just blissfully rested upon a few minutes ago. Blinking away tears she changed into black leather pants, a black tank top without any shoes. There was no way in hell she would parade around in front of the enemy wearing only her mate’s shirt. Opening the window she took one last longing look at her loving mates; they looked so peaceful, unaware of the chaos that would ensue when they woke up. The mating process took a lot of mental energy which is why they were sleeping so much and so heavily. Now that they had completed the final step of the mating process they wouldn’t need as much sleep, which meant they could literally have sex all night and not grow tired. If it wasn’t for her s’ink, she would still be in blissful oblivion with them.