Blood Mate: A Paranormal Romance Read online

  BLOOD MATE

  MATE series

  By

  Natalie Kristen

  MATE series

  ALPHA MATE

  BEAR MATE

  VAMPIRE MATE

  WOLF MATE

  WILD MATE

  DARK MATE

  BLOOD MATE

  Copyright © 2014 Natalie Kristen

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously or are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual locales, events, establishments or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  *****

  As the PAC's Head Enforcer, Jett Riley knows that there is a target on his back and a price on his head. He has too many enemies, enemies who will hurt her to hurt him.

  Loving her would get her killed.

  She is his, but he can never have her...

  Bryn Ellis knows death. She has courted death, fought death, and won. She is now a vampire Enforcer for the PAC. She has sworn off bad boys, and Jett Riley, her boss and tormentor, is deliciously, sinfully bad to the core.

  She should protect her heart and stay away from him, but she can't.

  There is no denying the maddening, unrelenting hunger and powerful bond between them.

  Their hunt for a savage killer on the loose in New Moon City puts them in the cross hairs of an old enemy. As danger closes in around the Enforcers, Jett and Bryn must fight to save each other, and the lives of everyone they hold dear.

  *****

  CHAPTER ONE

  Jett nodded at the security guard on duty as he strode across the lobby of the Paranormal Affairs Council (PAC) Headquarters. “Goodnight, Stanley.”

  “Goodnight, Mr Riley.” Stanley looked up from behind the reception counter and touched the tip of his cap. The old vampire usually doubled up as receptionist for the night, since the PAC Headquarters tended to be pretty quiet at night.

  Jett was Head of the Enforcement Unit of the PAC and the only human on the Council. The PAC Alpha, Lucas Rieve, was a werewolf. The rest of the Council members were paranormals. With vampires, weres, warlocks, witches, demons all living together under one moon in one crowded, bustling city, New Moon City was a cosmopolitan melting pot—or a ticking time bomb.

  If disputes weren't resolved carefully and efficiently, things tended to get ugly pretty quickly. Fangs, fur and claws would make their appearance and blood would flow down the sidewalk into the gutters.

  Jett didn't envy the clean up crew of New Moon City. But the clean up crew didn't envy him either. Being the PAC's Head Enforcer was a dangerous, deadly job.

  The Enforcers patrolled the city, hunted and destroyed rogue paranormals. They served and protected the civilian population. Training and toughening up the Enforcement Unit was no small task. But under Jett's demanding, some say brutal, training and no-nonsense leadership, the Enforcement Unit had grown to be a fearsome, formidable force.

  Jett knew he had a target on his back. There were some ambitious, power-hungry paranormals who would literally kill to head the Enforcement Unit. As the leader and commander of an elite group of lethal, well-trained hunters, Jett was arguably the most powerful Council member after the PAC Alpha, Lucas Rieve. Lucas was a good Alpha. He was astute, open-minded and decisive. Lucas was the previous Head Enforcer, but he handed the baton over to Jett when he was elected as the new PAC Alpha.

  There were some who wanted Jett's position. They wanted his power. His responsibilities, not so much. But there were others who wanted Jett's head. They didn't want power. They wanted revenge.

  Jett strode out of the PAC Headquarters and straightened his black leather jacket. His eyes automatically scanned the roads surrounding the PAC Headquarters. Traffic was light, and there were hardly any pedestrians at this time. Jett checked his watch as he made his way to the back of the building where he had parked his BMW roadster. It was close to midnight. So far his Enforcers on patrol hadn't called in with any reports of rogue activity.

  Jett kept walking at a steady pace as he neared his car, but his hand was already under his jacket. His lips curved, but there was no humor in his smile.

  He stopped a few feet from his car and smirked at his reflection in the dark side window. His eyes narrowed just a fraction as his hand slid out from under his jacket.

  A shadow lurched behind him.

  Jett spun and released the knife in his hand. The silver blade glinted as it flew straight into the leg of a wolf. The wolf slammed to the ground with an agonized, human cry. Its black fur was already receding from its body. In two blinks, a convulsing naked man lay on the ground, the hilt of a knife sticking out of his thigh. Jett had aimed the knife just an inch away from the femoral artery.

  It was just a warning. He wasn't aiming to kill.

  With a weary sigh, Jett turned to face the other three werewolves which had slunk out of the shadows and were stalking silently towards him. He heard a human laugh and the largest of the three wolves shifted back to human form.

  “Jett Riley.” The man gave him an ugly smile. “Remember me?”

  Jett stared at the scar down the side of his face, and the large birth mark over his left cheek. He remembered the birth mark. The scar was new though. This was Wesley Mack, Bobby Mack's kid.

  The last time he saw him, the guy was just a kid, a wolf cub.

  “Well, look at you. You're all grown up now, Wesley,” Jett said. And looking too much like your old man. Regrettably, it looks like you're following in his bloody footsteps too.

  Wesley growled. “Yeah. It's payback time, Jett. You're going to die tonight.”

  Jett raised his brows. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. A life for a life. You killed my Dad.”

  Jett shook his head. “Bobby Mack was a murderer. He killed many werewolves. You know that.”

  “He did what had to be done. He did what was necessary for the pack!” Wesley snarled.

  “Killing members of your own pack was...necessary?”

  “Yes!” Wesley spat. “Dad was the Alpha! If you challenge the Alpha, you get killed. That's pack law.”

  “No, Wesley,” Jett replied slowly and evenly. “There's only PAC law here in New Moon City. And PAC law protects everyone. You may belong to a pack, a pride, a coven, but no one is above the law. No one. An Alpha cannot just massacre half his pack just because he felt threatened.”

  “Shut up, Jett! You're not a were! You don't know how to run and control a pack!”

  Jett smiled thinly. Oh yes I do. The law of the jungle applies in packs and gangs. And I have been in street gangs since I was six.

  Not many people knew of Jett's colorful, checkered past. Jett was who he was, because of and in spite of his past.

  Wesley was advancing towards him, canines elongating. Patches of black fur sprouted across his naked back and chest.

  “We do things our way, Jett Riley,” Wesley growled, his yellow eyes glowing. “You—do not tell a wolf what to do. You are just a weak, sniveling little human.” He laughed harshly. “Fancy that. A human is telling us how to run things? You're not even a paranormal, and you're making up paranormal law?”

  “I don't make up the law,” Jett said with studied patience. “I only enforce the law.”

  Wesley sneered. Behind hi
m, the two wolves widened their jaws.

  “Wesley,” Jett began, exhaling a long breath. “You're a good lad. You've got a good future ahead of you. Do right by yourself, and by your friends.” Jett jerked his head at the two wolves behind him and at the young man on the ground, who was still whimpering and clutching his wounded leg. “Don't destroy their lives. And yours.”

  Jett's advice to the young werewolves was earnest, heartfelt. He had once been like them.

  Young paranormals weren't too different from human teenagers. They were impulsive, reckless, prone to violence and mistakes. Jett had made his first mistake by running away from the orphanage when he was five. By the time he was six, he was in a street gang. He knew all about violence and brutality. He knew what it was like to roam and run with predators. He had been one of them. He had done things he wasn't proud of, things he regretted. He had made so many mistakes.

  He knew all about bravado and bloodshed, pride and misplaced loyalties. Being in a gang gave him a false sense of invulnerability and power. He knew how it felt to be angry and scared all the time. You had to look strong and act tough. And you showed your strength, your toughness, your might with violence. Might was right. Only it wasn't.

  Jett stood still with his arms at his side, making no defensive or sudden gestures.

  “Help your friend up.” Jett indicated the groaning young man at his feet. “And go.”

  Wesley shifted into wolf form, and glowered at Jett. Jett let the wolves circle him, and gave them a final warning, “Go, Wesley. You are the son of your pack Alpha. You can be a good leader, a good man.”

  Jett waited, giving Wesley and his friends the chance to walk away.

  Looking into the yellow eyes of these lost, angry young wolves, Jett gave a subtle shake of his head.

  Wesley Mack and his friends looked like they were around seventeen or eighteen years old. Jett had been about the same age when he was hauled off the streets. By that time he had already risen through the ranks of the gang hierarchy and was one of the big guns. He had loads of money, all cash, all ill-gotten gains. He had an army of underlings. He had power, money, women. He took what he wanted, did what he wanted. But in just one night, his entire empire, his magnificent, elaborate, bloody house of cards collapsed.

  A tip-off was all it took.

  The police raid brought his criminal career and debauched lifestyle to a screaming, sobering end.

  A big, gruff police inspector with the face of a bulldog and the heart of a saint had hauled him up and thrown him into the police academy instead of the slammer. The tough-talking police inspector had given him a lifeline, a single chance. If he got kicked out of the academy, he would be thrown straight into jail.

  Prison inmate, or police cadet.

  It was up to him.

  Jett grabbed at that lifeline with both hands and didn't let go. He had finally woken up. He wouldn't allow himself to fall back into that dark, seedy existence.

  He pulled himself together and pulled himself up.

  Up from the seamy underbelly of the city and into the light.

  He worked hard. He graduated top of his class and for the next twelve years, he made his way up the ranks of the New Moon City Police Force (NMPD). Jett had been on both sides of the law and every day, every night, he walked the thin strip of gray between good and evil.

  Jett sighed heavily as he stared down at the sobbing young man on the ground. The young werewolf still had the silver blade buried in his leg. Yanking the knife out would hurt. A lot. The silver would burn and sear his flesh and skin. But the pain would pass and he would heal. If the silver remained in his flesh, his body would be severely weakened and his wound would never be able to heal around the silver blade.

  The man was too busy rolling in the dirt, too wrapped up in his pain to do what had to be done. Someone would have to pull the knife out for him.

  Hurt him. Help him.

  Jett lowered himself slowly, his hand outstretched. “I'm going to take the knife out, kid,” he said. “Just keep still.”

  The young man kicked out and screamed when Jett laid a hand on his leg. Hearing his scream, the other three wolves closed in at once.

  Jett cursed, and wrenched the knife out of the man's thigh in one swift, smooth motion. The man howled in agony, his body bucking and convulsing. But Jett didn't have time to attend to him.

  The wolves flew towards Jett in a deadly blur of fangs and claws. Jett ducked and rolled away. Silently, he pulled out two knives from under his jacket.

  He had to defend himself, and with knives he could temper his strength. Guns just spat out the bullets, slamming the silver bullets with deadly force into the target.

  Unloading a round of silver bullets into these wolves at such close range might kill them.

  Wesley's jaws snapped an inch from his throat. Jett spun away, and landed soundlessly in a crouch a few feet away.

  “Don't do this, Wesley,” he said quietly.

  Wesley's yellow eyes glowed and he pounced in a mad rage. Jett blew out a sigh, and raised his blade.

  He buried the silver blade in Wesley's shoulder as the enraged wolf barreled into the wall behind him. His two comrades backed away a step at his agonized howl.

  Jett stood and turned to face the two crouching wolves. He blinked slowly, waiting for them to back away. He was giving them the last chance to walk away.

  But the young could never be counted on to make smart decisions. Between smart and stupid, they would invariably choose stupid. Consistently and repeatedly.

  Behind him, Wesley staggered to his feet and raised his head in a howl. The two wolves gave an answering howl, their voices blending together to weave an eerie, almost poignant, melody.

  Jett shook his head at them, but they ignored his silent warning.

  Don't do it, kiddos.

  As one, they hurled themselves at Jett, going for the kill.

  Stupid sods thought there was honor in getting themselves killed.

  Jett swore loudly and twirled his knives through his fingers.

  As the two wolves leaped up, he plunged the silver blades into their soft underbellies.

  The two wolves collapsed in a heap at his feet, and shifted violently back into human form. The two young men clutched at their bleeding stomachs, screaming in pain.

  Wesley narrowed his yellow eyes at his fallen comrades.

  Jett recognized the disdain and determination in those slitted eyes.

  It was the same look of scorn and contempt he had given his gang members when his underlings backed away from a fight with a rival gang. Good-for-nothing weaklings. He had despised his underlings for their weakness, their cowardice.

  There was no one he could count on. The only person who would fight for him—was him. And he had broken out the machete and gone on a rampage, diving headlong into a bloodbath.

  This was what Wesley Mack was about to do—dive into a bloodbath.

  Jett watched Wesley take a step back, a growl rumbling from his throat as his eyes locked on Jett.

  Jett held up his hands slowly, speaking in a low, steady voice to the slavering black wolf in front of him.

  “Wesley, stop. Stop this.”

  But Wesley didn't stop. Ego, wrath and hate drove him straight towards Jett.

  Wesley's jaws opened wide, his sharp, serrated teeth aiming for Jett's throat.

  Jett didn't move. He waited till the very last instant. Then he pulled out his gun. He had run out of knives.

  He fired a silver bullet into Wesley's chest.

  He'd missed the heart. Intentionally.

  The wolf fell to the ground. But despite the pain, Wesley stubbornly held on to his wolf form.

  Jett holstered his gun just as running footsteps rounded the corner. Two of his Enforcers had been patrolling the area and had heard the shot. Jett stepped back as Mia and Zymfer ran up, their guns aimed at the mess of bleeding, jerking bodies on the ground.

  Zymfer let out a low whistle, looking slightly stunned. Th
e young demon was still a rookie Enforcer, and hadn't hunted and apprehended too many rogues.

  Mia was already pulling out her silver handcuffs. “What are you waiting for?” she snapped at her gaping partner. “Cuff them!”

  Zymfer immediately knelt down and snapped a pair of silver cuffs around Wesley's shivering paws.

  Wesley still refused to shift back to human form despite the excruciating pain. Jett knew that he was going to lose consciousness very soon. The young werewolf wouldn't have enough strength to hold on to his wolf form and fight the draining effect of the silver at the same time.

  “You okay?” Mia glanced at Jett over her shoulder.

  “Yeah. Thank goodness you guys arrived when you did. You saved me,” Jett said, putting a hand over his heart.

  Zymfer beamed and chuckled delightedly. But Mia simply snorted at her boss. Mia Lin was a former police officer like him, and she had worked closely with him in the NMPD. She knew his quirks and quick temper better than most.

  Jett had shamelessly gone and poached her from the NMPD when he took up the position of Head Enforcer with the PAC. The pint-sized human woman was sharp, smart and quick. She was even quicker to anger, but she was also quick to forgive. With her sharp intuition and intelligence, she was one of his best Enforcers.

  “Get them in there.” Jett jerked a thumb at the PAC Headquarters. “Who's on interrogation duty tonight?”

  “Scott and Bryn,” Zymfer answered, smoothing a hand quickly down his horn.

  Mia yanked the two groaning naked men to their feet and rolled her eyes. “You think she's cute, don't you?”

  “What? Who? I don't know what you're talking about,” Zymfer stuttered.

  “Bryn. Bryn Ellis, that pretty little vampire.” Mia winked at him. “I saw you ogling her.”

  “No! I was only...”

  Mia waved away his protest. “Why don't you ask her out?”

  Zymfer swallowed and mumbled. “I...I did. She said no. Ah, let's just get these wolves into the building, shall we?” he huffed. And quit probing into my embarrassingly non-existent dating life.