Fangs of Fate (Untish #1)

Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHANCE

Tate was an agitating female. Immature—she wasn’t one to forgive and forget. But I cleared my conscience. I warned her and now I needed to get her off my mind. The feeding from earlier should still be fresh in my memory, but all I could taste was Tate. Her soft butterscotch flavor still filled my mouth, my tongue, it plagued my memories at night and now my old cravings returned. I’d been reacquainted with my old drug: Tate.

They say when vampires mate, we can bond or simply fuck, Tate was the former—to my total annoyance. Why couldn’t she just have been a fuckbuddy like the other females I’ve bedded; a one-night stand with no ramifications. I needed a kick in the balls, I needed to wake up to reality. Tate and I were done, I owed her nothing. I had a mole to oust and a mission to prepare for, not fornication in the woods.Besides, there are other females, and after toying with Holland tonight, perhaps she’d be the perfect conquest when I needed a bit of stress release.

The barracks here at the outer tower to the HQ were filled with rich body odor and the floors were covered in mud. Whoever was on sanitation was about to have their balls handed to them—and not in a pleasant way. I made it past the cafeteria and the training center, heading through the leadership office wing toward my chambers when familiar breathing—heaving really—accompanied by loud footsteps sounded behind me. Du-Arche Pinely. This night just kept getting better.

“Dux Dale, I was informed you will be leaving us in less than twenty-four hours. I have the debriefing from today’s disturbance as well as the updated guara watchlist. Can I assume I’ll be taking over operations here upon your leave?” Naturally, Du-Arche Pinely would inquire about his new rank.

I extended my hand for the folder. A power play on my part, I’ll admit. I didn’t need a paper version of any of this as I could access it on the database via my disk, but I liked to keep Pinely on his toes and remind him who is in charge, even if I would soon be physically absent. He placed the folders in my hand, his jaw flexing.

“Yes, I’ll have a list of updated drills and operational changes to be instituted starting tomorrow. You will ensure they are incorporated in my absence and keep me updated with any changes or news of importance.” He stood there, a new shade of red beginning to crawl up his neck. His oversized gut bounced with each heave from his lungs. Apparently, the short walk from the other side of this wing was a bit too much cardio for him. I’d never particularly cared for the male, but his clear lack of self-control or attention to personal health grated me. A crumb, likely from a cookie, and some red splotches dotted his lower right beard; his hygiene was as lacking as his willpower. With Tate irritating my nerves still, I had zero tolerance for him. “That will be all, du-arche.” With that, I turned and headed for my chambers.

Sleep, I knew, was not an option—I was too amped up. Instead of heading for the bed for a frustrating attempt at sleep, I crouched over the maple desk and thumbed through the folder. Basic additional information pertaining to the impending travel was the first thing listed. We would take the underground circuit, the most common method of cross-country traveling, and stop at two minor settlements on the way—a check-in as much as it was a break from the stale confines of the tin can.

The whole trip would take three days. Not bad considering the large distance we’d be covering. The Southern Outpost wasn’t as far as the Eastern, considering that HQ was essentially neighbors with the Western Outpost. Still, it would be a long trip through heavily forested, dense land with lots of elevation changes. The circuit made travel comfortable.

In a way, heading back to the SO felt like heading home. It was forest and sea—fog and mystery. The training facility there had prepared me to become the male I was now and still held a certain whimsical element.

My thumb slipped on a sharp page, drawing a bit of blood. Fuck. I wiped it on my pants before focusing on the next page: Dux Holland. She would, of course, be accompanying me. I flipped through her file. I had asked to see it this morning when I’d been informed I would be working with her. I needed to know if I could count on her. After tonight, my gut said yes, but still, I needed more information.

She was top of her class, graduated ten years prior, and was awarded the medal of honor for an undercover mission that was listed as confidential from three years back. She became dux two years ago. Still fresh. At least we had that in common. I’d only held my dux position for the past three years. It would have been nice to be paired with someone with more experience and a long-standing position, but I suppose the one good thing about her newness to the position was that she was clean—unlikely to be tainted or perverted by whoever was a part of the rebel group responsible for the recent attacks. I knew many of the members of the Southern Outpost from my work there last year. It was hard to picture any of them betraying the Glenn, but I knew that at least one had, and that son of a bitch would pay.

I flipped to her skills and wasn’t surprised that she was top of her class for tactical maneuvers, hand-to-hand combat, and an expert marksman with daggers. I scanned the page to locate her magical giftings and was surprised to see it only listed one outside of the usual prowess and agility: Emo-Tasting. That didn’t line up with what I’d witnessed tonight. If she was an Emo-Taster, then she’d be able to feel our emotions and taste them as her own. But she had compelled me tonight, that was an extremely rare gifting and one that wasn’t in her folder. Why would she openly show me this? If she did secretly possess the power of compulsion, it was highly coveted and may not have been listed as a magical gifting by orders from the council. I understood they did that for espionage or tactical advantage, so why show me?

Shaking my head, I pulled up my disk and opened the digital hologram pulling up the most recent copy of the guara watchlist. There were currently forty-eight individuals in the capital that ranked as a threat level one. Scrolling to the bottom I spotted Fletcher’s name. I hated my job sometimes.

Sighing, I opened the new orders page and began to update them. Starting noon tomorrow, all individuals listed as threat level one would be surveyed by the guara at all times. Travel would be eliminated. Anyone considered perfidious and all those who’ve had recent travel to the Eastern or Southern Outposts would be brought in for questioning first thing in the morning.

We would need to double down security, specifically at the veil and all external watch towers of the capital. Additionally, I would need to assign Research to do full background checks on any ties the threat level one personnel have to Lucas Meitch, the Fern Vamp, or any soldiers posted at either of the breached outposts. My head began to throb; yeah, sometimes I really hated my job.

By tomorrow night, all these changes will be in full force, and I’ll be leaving HQ to go on a snake hunt. This time tomorrow, everything would be different.