Chapter 1
When Maddy Chandler was as pretty as they came. He bore the looks of an angel, silky blond hair that was styled to perfection and baby blues that had a way of stealing the hearts of all those that met him. His face was soft and cherubic, holding a softness that deceived.
A lot of people looked at Maddy and mistook his beauty for innocence.
Stryker Odello was not one of those people. He looked at Maddy and saw him for nothing less than what he truly was; a walking, talking headache.
He spoke too much, and more often than not the nonsense that flowed from his lips was nothing more than second-hand gossip or fashion related.
It was too early in the morning to deal with him. At least that was how he justified topping up the whisky glass in his hands, the dark liquid rising to a halfway point before he placed the bottle back on the wooden decking of his front porch. The deck chair squeaked beneath the movement, a loud whine splintering the early summer morning.
“Really, Stryker?” Maddy said as he approached, his slim frame swaying with untamed seduction. He used his body the way that a warrior used a sword: with deadly intent. Men and women flocked at his feet, drawn to him and his magnetic personality. “It’s not even noon. A little early to be getting shit faced, no?”
Stryker answered by taking a slow, unhindered sip. The taste burnt his mouth, offering him a soothing sense of peace that he knew would be disrupted as soon as the other man opened his mouth again.
It was early and the world was bathed in a golden cast, reflecting off the bonnet of both cars that were parked in the gravel pathway: Stryker’s battered old golf and Maddy’s shiny red convertible. The green grass that spread beyond, opening out into acres of untended land, seemed to gleam as though the stars themselves were buried in the blades.
It was beautiful. It was just a shame that Maddy and his insufferable presence had come to ruin it.
“I swear,” Maddy grumbled, eyeing the bottle at Stryker’s feet with mild disgust. “For your birthday present, I’m sending you to rehab.”
Stryker took another sip, heaving out a sigh as his eyes rolled over to where his – and he used the term very lightly- friend stood on the porch steps. “Can’t be worse than you gift last year,” he said at last.
Maddy frowned, his head tilting. “What did I get you last year?”
“Your company.”
“Ha-ha,” Maddy said dryly, making a face as he sat on the top step, eyeing the other man.
Stryker knew what he was seeing; he had seen it in the mirror after he had woken. Messy brown hair that was in dire need of a cut, sticking up from peculiar angles, and bloodshot green eyes. Two days worth of stubble sprinkled his jaw and his clothes had been pulled up from the bedroom floor.
“What do you want, Maddy?” he asked when a small stint of silence broke out between them. “You’re interrupting my wallowing in self-pity moment. It’s a limited time slot. It has to be done before ten-thirty or else I simply won’t be able to make room for it.”
“When was the last time you showered?” Maddy asked, ignoring Stryker’s question.
Stryker had a retort. It was rude and unpleasant, but for fear of Maddy’s lack of brain cells being unable to process the insult, he necked back the rest of the whisky in his glass instead.
“Why are you here?”
“I can’t visit a friend?” Maddy asked innocently. Stryker cast him a wary look. He knew that tone only too well; it meant that he wanted something and that he wouldn’t be leaving without it. “We have so much to catch up on.”
The laugh that burst past Stryker’s lips was short, bitter and curt. “I really don’t give a shit about whatever colour Cindy-Mae has dyed her hair.”
“No,” Maddy scowled, shaking his head. “This isn’t about Cin... wait, what colour has she dyed it? I hope it isn’t that awful shade of pink again. With her skin tone, she really shouldn’t.”
It was both annoying and amusing how quickly his attention derailed. Stryker had once made it a game of how many times he could redirect the conversation, but he had given up playing it when he realized that he could never really be a winner in that game; all he had resulted in was forcing himself to endure Maddy’s company for even longer.
“Why are you here, Maddy?” Stryker repeated tiredly. His plans for the day had consisted of sitting on the deck, drinking until the sun faded beneath the inevitability of dusk, and drinking until he couldn’t even remember why he was drinking.
“I missed you?”
“Was that a question?”
Maddy snorted. “Well, it wasn’t a fact, was it? Really though, Stryk. Shower. Maybe brush your teeth. Clean clothes, too, if you’re feeling really adventurous.”
“Really, though, Maddy,” Stryker mocked. “Leave. Don’t come back. Ever.”
They had fought last time they had been together. It hadn’t been a big fight. More sniping and bitching than anything else, but it had put a longer time frame between seeing one another than usual.
Stryker wasn’t complaining. The less frequent Maddy was around him, the less his brain cells withered and died.
“I’m here for Kernal. If it were up to me, you’d still be getting the silent treatment.”
“Silent treatment?” Stryker mock gasped, reaching for the bottle at his feet for a top up. It was snatched away before he got a chance. He threw the blond a filthy look. “You mean that you’re capable of being silent? Where has this knowledge been all my life?”
“Do you want to know what Kernal wants or not?” Maddy sassed, eyeing the bottle he had stolen before launching it down the drive. It shattered, along with any naïve hope that Stryker still held towards a peaceful day.
Stryker didn’t answer straight away. He could have lived without hearing Maddy’s mindless babble; all it would have done was rot his brain, anyway. Kernal was not that simple.
Stryker didn’t have many friends. Something about him had a way of winding most people up the wrong way. Maddy didn’t count on the grounds that if Stryker could have found a pesticide strong enough he would have rid himself of the talking migraine in an instance. Kernal was his only real friend. His best friend and one of the few people in the world that Stryker still trusted.
The only downside was that Kernal was married to Maddy. They were in love- sickeningly so- and very rarely apart. He owed Kernal. He owed him big and he doubted he’d ever live long enough to pay him back for all the things he had done for him.
“What does he want?” Stryker asked reluctantly. His eyes lingered on his empty glass mournfully, already debating heading back inside to fish out another bottle.
“Just a favour,” Maddy said softly. His face contorted into a look of innocence, his fine lashes fluttering as he smiled his award-winning smile. “A teeny, tiny, microscopic favour.”
Which roughly translated to it being absolutely-fucking-huge. Stryker held up a hand, cutting Maddy off as he shifted in his chair. He hadn’t thought that he had drunk that much but the movement made the world tilt a little.
“No. Whatever it is, just know. Find some other idiot.”
“You’re the only one we know,” Maddy shot back with a smirk before he jumped back to his puppy dog routine. “He just wants a small favour. It will only be for a couple of weeks.”
“A couple of weeks?” Stryker echoed flatly. He already didn’t like the way that it was going.
“You remember Kernal’s uncle, Willard, right?”
A sneer tugged at his lips at the name. Willard Kendrick was a hard man to forget. His name had a way of leaving a taste bitterer than vinegar in the mouth and his presence alone was enough to make the skin crawl and Dettol baths seem like the only logical solution.
He was a merchant. He dealt in slavery and all things taboo. Last Stryker had heard, he was selling young human children by the docks.
Humans, to Stryker’s kind, they were the bottom of the food chain. They held no rights. They were slaves or pets. They were killed for sport. For fun.
If Stryker cared enough to sympathise, he was sure his heart would have wept for them. But it didn’t. He had enough problems of his own without playing mother Theresa to a dying breed.
“He died.”
“Good riddance,” Stryker muttered. “I don’t care whose uncle he was. The guy was a grade-A asshole.”
“Agreed,” Maddy nodded, inspecting his nails. Stryker could tell that it was taking all of the blond’s willpower to stay on topic. “He left Kernal all his property.”
“And that’s my problem how?”
“He left him his shop and all his... merchandise. Kernal... he has to try and find a home for a dozen littles.”
“Huh,” Stryker said at last, nodding slowly. He hadn’t been expecting that.
Littles were a form of slave. Not all, but most were trained from a young age to act like a young child. They had their development stunted, refused an education beside their baby training. Most were human. They were easier and more docile to train, especially when they were little. Not all were, though.
As a stream of sunlight danced across Stryker’s knee, he found himself glad that the old tales that the humans used to tell- before the monsters of the world had taken over and forced them into submission- were wrong. Sunlight didn’t hurt his kind; he was a vampire. It meant they were the better, more improved version of a human. Faster, stronger and usually smarter, very few of the weakness’ that humans had woven into legend were true.
Garlic- though utterly disgusting, in Stryker’s opinion- didn’t hurt them and holy water touched their flesh harmlessly. Sunlight didn’t reduce them to ash, but their bodies adjusted well to night-time, better, even.
“So what’s the favour?” Stryker asked, but from the way his gut twisted in discomfort, part of him already suspected what the request was going to be. “You want me to recommend a good exterminator?”
“If only,” Maddy muttered. “They’ve wrecked my couch, the little bastards. But no. Kernal, you know how he gets.”
Stryker did know.
The man was terrifying at first glance. Six-foot-three inches of pure terror with muscles of steel and a deadly swagger woven into his stride.
He was also the image that would have been found beneath ‘teddy bear’ if the dictionary had pictures. His eyes were filled with a warmth that never seemed to fade and his heart seemed to fill every overgrown inch of his body. It never knew when to stop giving. It never knew when to stop caring or when to give up.
Stryker should have been grateful for that last one; if Kernal knew how to give up then he would have washed his hands of Stryker a long time ago.
“He wants to find them all homes. Good homes. Kind homes where they won’t have to worry about being abused or hurt anymore... they’re all in pretty bad shape, Stryk. Willard didn’t care much for their wellbeing.”
“Stop pussyfooting around what you want and just come out with it,” Stryker said flatly.
Maddy nodded and pushed to his feet, brushing his clothes down with a small frown. “He wants to know if you’ll take one-”
“No,” Stryker cut off. “Not happening. Go and bother somebody else.”
“There is nobody else,” Maddy snapped, irritation bleeding through his features. “Do you think you were our first choice? Our second? You weren’t even our fifth. There’s twelve of them, though, Stryker. We can’t deal with twelve by our self. Blossom has agreed to take one on. Christian has, too. We even managed to get Deacon on board.”
“Seems like you’re doing a fantastic job. Keep up the good work. Now leave.”
“It won’t be permanent. God only knows you’re not Daddy material. It’s just for a few weeks. Just until we can sort the kid a new home. Kernal is refusing to let them go to anybody who he doesn’t trust. One kid. Three weeks, max. It’s for Kernal. He’s never asked you for a favour before, right?”
Stryker cursed beneath his breath. Maddy was right. Kernal had never asked him for a favour before. He had helped Stryker time after time again.
So how could he justify turning down the first thing that he had ever asked in return?
