Read Online Rise of the Fae by Rebekah R. Ganiere - Free Book Online
Authors: Rebekah R. Ganiere
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mission with three of us there. Let me pick two, just two. I’ll keep them out of the way and make sure they don’t bother you.”
Riley had a point. They needed to test their skills and he needed to see what they could do. But he didn’t even know what they were going into or what they might face.
“You take one of them, only one, in a separate vehicle. I don’t want them with me.”
Riley smiled. “Great. I’ll keep them out of the way. I promise.”
“No. You need to treat them like they’re one of us. I can’t afford to have you splitting your attention. They can either hack it, or they can’t.”
“They can. And I’ll be all there for the squad.”
Neeman nodded. “All right. Tell them we leave in five.”
Riley jogged down the hall toward the human wing.
Neeman continued to his room and opened the door. The sweet smell of lavender hit him. He stiffened briefly and then relaxed at the familiar scent.
“Hello.” The female rose from the bed and turned to face him.
“I don’t have much time this evening. I have to go on a run.”
“We can be quick.” Her starched white shirt and black skirt looked clean as ever. Her brown eyes and brown hair were a perfect match.
He’d never asked her name. He didn’t need to know.
“Sit.” He gestured to the chair at his desk.
She sat where she was told.
She’d been coming to him for close to a decade. An arrangement he’d set up with Clive, the owner of the slave auction house. Clive sent a slave to the compound twice a week for Neeman’s use. In return, Neeman paid him well, and had taken care of more than a couple problems for him. Now that Clive would be leaving though, he would need to make other arrangements. He couldn’t focus on that now.
Neeman crossed to his closet and pulled out his old wooden box. Entering the combination, he then removed the lock and set it on the floor. He ran his fingers over the design on the lid of the chest, which he’d stolen from the Vampire who’d turned him. Killing the Vampire hadn’t been as cathartic as Neeman had spent years anticipating it would be.
He opened the lid and grabbed the goblet and knife from inside. They’d been gifts from his mentor and the previous head of the Tracking Squad, Roth. Roth had been a true friend. Still was, though since he’d become a slaver they hadn’t spoken much.
Neeman stood and handed the goblet and knife to the girl. She set them on the desk, pulled out a bandage from her purse, and sat it alongside.
She never questioned Neeman about his methods, never asked for more, never resisted. And Neeman appreciated that.
When she’d arranged the items the way she wanted them, she looked up at Neeman and nodded. He returned the nod, headed into the bathroom, and closed the door.
He glanced in the mirror at his reflection and was disgusted by what he saw. His ice blue eyes were not his own. He’d been born with deep blue eyes. Sapphire suns, his mother had called them. The bumps under his top lip were where his ever-present canines hung low in his mouth.
How could he be what he was, he asked himself for the millionth time. Every evening, he rose and told himself tonight would be the night he’d end it all. But every night passed and he still stood. Like a coward.
Neeman took a deep breath and shook his head. He looked at the time on his phone. He wanted to open the door to see if she was finished, but couldn’t take the chance of slipping. This was his ritual. This was how he had to do it. He owed it to the humans still living.
The memory flooded him. Sneaking into the mansion where Brodrick, the Vampire who’d turned him, stayed. Waiting for the monster in the gentlemen’s study, which smelled of expensive cigars. Bloodlust slamming into him, weakening his limbs and leaving him heavy and dull because he’d refused to feed. The agony in his limbs, like being stabbed with a thousand needles.
But then the door had opened and Brodrick had entered, talking on
Riley had a point. They needed to test their skills and he needed to see what they could do. But he didn’t even know what they were going into or what they might face.
“You take one of them, only one, in a separate vehicle. I don’t want them with me.”
Riley smiled. “Great. I’ll keep them out of the way. I promise.”
“No. You need to treat them like they’re one of us. I can’t afford to have you splitting your attention. They can either hack it, or they can’t.”
“They can. And I’ll be all there for the squad.”
Neeman nodded. “All right. Tell them we leave in five.”
Riley jogged down the hall toward the human wing.
Neeman continued to his room and opened the door. The sweet smell of lavender hit him. He stiffened briefly and then relaxed at the familiar scent.
“Hello.” The female rose from the bed and turned to face him.
“I don’t have much time this evening. I have to go on a run.”
“We can be quick.” Her starched white shirt and black skirt looked clean as ever. Her brown eyes and brown hair were a perfect match.
He’d never asked her name. He didn’t need to know.
“Sit.” He gestured to the chair at his desk.
She sat where she was told.
She’d been coming to him for close to a decade. An arrangement he’d set up with Clive, the owner of the slave auction house. Clive sent a slave to the compound twice a week for Neeman’s use. In return, Neeman paid him well, and had taken care of more than a couple problems for him. Now that Clive would be leaving though, he would need to make other arrangements. He couldn’t focus on that now.
Neeman crossed to his closet and pulled out his old wooden box. Entering the combination, he then removed the lock and set it on the floor. He ran his fingers over the design on the lid of the chest, which he’d stolen from the Vampire who’d turned him. Killing the Vampire hadn’t been as cathartic as Neeman had spent years anticipating it would be.
He opened the lid and grabbed the goblet and knife from inside. They’d been gifts from his mentor and the previous head of the Tracking Squad, Roth. Roth had been a true friend. Still was, though since he’d become a slaver they hadn’t spoken much.
Neeman stood and handed the goblet and knife to the girl. She set them on the desk, pulled out a bandage from her purse, and sat it alongside.
She never questioned Neeman about his methods, never asked for more, never resisted. And Neeman appreciated that.
When she’d arranged the items the way she wanted them, she looked up at Neeman and nodded. He returned the nod, headed into the bathroom, and closed the door.
He glanced in the mirror at his reflection and was disgusted by what he saw. His ice blue eyes were not his own. He’d been born with deep blue eyes. Sapphire suns, his mother had called them. The bumps under his top lip were where his ever-present canines hung low in his mouth.
How could he be what he was, he asked himself for the millionth time. Every evening, he rose and told himself tonight would be the night he’d end it all. But every night passed and he still stood. Like a coward.
Neeman took a deep breath and shook his head. He looked at the time on his phone. He wanted to open the door to see if she was finished, but couldn’t take the chance of slipping. This was his ritual. This was how he had to do it. He owed it to the humans still living.
The memory flooded him. Sneaking into the mansion where Brodrick, the Vampire who’d turned him, stayed. Waiting for the monster in the gentlemen’s study, which smelled of expensive cigars. Bloodlust slamming into him, weakening his limbs and leaving him heavy and dull because he’d refused to feed. The agony in his limbs, like being stabbed with a thousand needles.
But then the door had opened and Brodrick had entered, talking on
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