Disclaimer: I do not own Blade, Whistler, Damaskinos (like anyone would claim him), Scud (thank goodness), Karen, or Nomak (which completely sucks, but the main reason I'm writing this is Nomak), or anyone else from the Blade franchise. I do, however, own all the werewolves. Which I'm proud of. But anyway, I make no claim on Blade or anyone from it, just writing this for fun and for NightSlash. Please due not sue me. Savvy?

CHAPTER TWO: RELATIONS

Beep, beep.

Ulric gazed over at Karen. "It sounds like our human guest has woken up finally, Karen. Please, go see that he is made comfortable and doesn't have a heart attack from yelling and trying to get some answers," he instructed with a warm smile.

Karen nodded and rose from her chair at the table, quickly heading out of the room. The others watched her leave, before returning their attention on Ulric. Though Meira caught Vladimir sending glances her way, his expression blank, but Meira could catch the want in his eyes.

"You know, it's rather distracting when you do that."

Everyone turned to stare at Nomak in surprise at his sudden statement, most of the others confused. Meira though wondered if he had noticed Vladimir's actions as well, since Vlad was next to Ulric, and Ulric was directly in front of Nomak.

"I would like to be able to focus in on what your head guy is saying, not think to myself, 'If he glances at that female one more time, I will break his jaw open,' considering I am rather comfortable where I'm sitting," the Reaper continued, smiling briefly at Vladimir.

Melantha and Silvia smirked while Meira kept her expression indifferent. Ulric had an unreadable expression, while the others were all chuckling. Richard was snickering, but trying to cover his mouth as Vladimir sent him a death glare.

"Vladimir, do keep your attention focused on the meeting," Ulric told the other male softly. "You may try to court Meira once we are adjourned."

Bristling slightly, Meira had to turn away from both males at the thought of Vladimir getting Ulric's approval to court her. She had hoped the alpha would put a stop to the unwanted advances, but he seemed to not take it too seriously.

"Which is, for everyone but you, Vlad, now," Ulric then said. "Meira, would you escort Nomak to his quarters here, and apologize for punching him earlier?" Ulric asked of her, but she knew it would be unwise to say no.

You could disagree with a pack alpha, but not Ulric.

As she tried to hold back a sigh, Meira got up from her chair and walked out of the room, not turning to see if the Reaper was following until she was out in the hall. When she did turn, Nomak was right behind her.

"Aren't you supposed to tell me something?" he asked with his soft, gravelly voice. His expression was as unreadable as Ulric's usually were.

Meira bit back a snaky reply and swallowed, feeling as though she was literally swallowing her pride. "I'm sorry for punching you earlier. There, I said it. Follow me." Without waiting for him to say anything more, she turned and started walking down the hallway, taking the first right.

"You don't seem to like me," Nomak stated after a few minutes of silence. "I don't think I'm held much higher in your opinion than that lovesick puppy of yours."

"How do you know you're higher?" Meira shot back, her voice clipped.

"Am I not?" he simply asked her.

Meira almost growled, hating that he was so confident. She was even more angry that he was indeed right. But at least he wasn't overly cocky about it. After several tense moments, at least for her, she sighed and nodded. "You are."

The Reaper smirked. "Thought so. Glad I am, or I would be insulted and I would have to inform your leader that you were rude to me."

"Snitch."

"Bitch."

Ulric waited until everyone but Melantha had left, then turned to his mate and kissed her full and fiercely. "I will tell you what was discussed later, my love. But for now, need you to make sure that the Reaper, Meira, and our other guest do not cause too many problems," he whispered to her warmly, nuzzling her.

Melantha's dark eyes met his, and she nodded understandingly. "Of course." She leaned in, whispering directly into his ear. "I will be waiting for you in our bedchambers," she told him, then rose from her seat and left him with the beta male.

"What did you learn?" Ulric questioned Vladimir, even as he continued to watch his mate stride out of the meeting room. He did so love to watch her move, every motion she made beautiful and graceful, her carriage that of a leader, her body filled with lethal elegance. But now was not the time to think on his mate. He turned back to his second in command, who finally started to speak now that he knew he had the alpha's attention.

"It was not as pathetic as a vampire kill, but it was far too easy," Vladimir informed Ulric. "Their weaknesses are their mouths and hearts, which are protected by thick bone, I could feel it. Very strong, but not enough for us when in lycan form, and probably not even a real difficulty for you even in this form," he said, a mixture of disappointment and pride in his eyes.

Ulric smirked to himself, digesting the information. He knew the reason for both. The former was because of the lack of a challenge, the latter because he thought he could beat Nomak just as easily. But the alpha male was fairly certain that Nomak was different. He was intelligent for one thing, he had evolved into this thing and was its carrier, and he seemed to have toned his vampiric and now Reaper strength.

Jared Nomak was not like the zombie vampires his victims and their victims and so on became. He was taught by Damaskinos, and the vampire overlord probably had his "son" tutored in some areas at least. Probably no training in combat, too risky, as proven. But the original Reaper could learn, and had already, that much was certain.

The alpha knew a fighter when he saw one.

"This is good to know, Vladimir," he stated, a small smile on his lips. "Now, you should go and make sure everyone is ready for the hunt tonight. We need to make sure that the Daywalker took care of the rest of Nomak's kind," he instructed.

Vladimir nodded and bowed his head in submission, then rose to walk out of the room himself. He seemed annoyed that he had not been given the order to kill Nomak, but would never question Ulric.

Though there was something else he needed instruction with.

"And Vladimir, give the poor girl a break. She doesn't want you, don't pester her into snapping at your heels," he reprimanded, though with humor and amusement in his voice. He grinned when he heard the beta growl low in his throat and storm out of the room.

"Now, my dear mate, it is time for me to end your waiting," Ulric whispered to himself, and quickly stood from his chair and left, striding briskly to their shared chambers. It was several turns down several hallways until he finally reached the door to their first room, and he swiftly entered and locked the door once it was closed.

He wasn't the kind to take chances when it came to time with his mate.

Going ahead and removing his shirt before walking into their bedchamber, he could smell the exquisite scent of her, fresh and clean after a warm shower that was cool enough to keep her awake, but warm enough to relax her and ready her for his touch.

The alpha opened the door to their bedroom and saw her lying on the bed, her dark eyes hidden beneath their lids, her black hair splayed out on the midnight colored sheets, her dark skin glowing gold, set off by the paleness of her silvery gown. Her breath was steady and even, but she was awake, aware of his stare.

She finally moved, opening her eyes and sitting up. A soft smirk played on her features as she saw Ulric's silver irises fill his eyes, his lips forming a wolfish grin, predatory and promising sweet nips and fierce kisses.

"You, my dear, are lovely," he whispered, voice already husky and thick. He watched her smirk grow wider and prouder, and he couldn't control the wolf instincts. Pouncing finally, he quickly caught her wrists in his hands as his mouth crushed against hers. She shivered and shuddered under him, moaning into his mouth as her legs rubbed against his, rubbed against his arousal, urging him on.

"And you, my love, are delectable," she replied when he parted their mouths so that he could kiss the skin exposed to him. She arched up, mewling and purring and growling her approval, her own irises darkening to black.

"I could say the same for you, Melantha," he whispered against her collar bone before nipping the skin above it. "Delectable, delicious, divine," he continued between each nip, until he reached the neckline of her nightgown. "And probably uncomfortable in this barrier between us," he said cheekily.

Melantha smiled, then broke her wrists free of his grip and flipped him over, now straddling him in a very pleasant and teasing manner. "As uncomfortable as you now are in your pants, I believe," she said with her own impish grin to match his tone. Then she did something evil and taunting - she began to grind her hips down against his, promising but not yet giving.

Ulric growled and grunted, writhing and grinding his hips up, returning the favor, though she appeared to be winning for the moment. "My love, stop this torture," he begged. He was alpha male. He never begged.

Except to his queen wolf.

Taking pity on him, and herself most likely, Melantha moved down and unzipped his pants, then pulled them down until he could kick them off his ankles. She grabbed the hem of her gown, but Ulric shook his head and reached for it himself.

"My turn," he told her and she complied, lifting her arms so that he could remove the garment to expose the rest of her golden hued skin to his eyes, the sight more beautiful than buried treasure, and just as valuable. His fingers delicately, reverently, brushed over her thighs and hips, then stomach, until he moved his hands to cup her breasts.

Soft gasps and gentle shivers were the responses he earned from her, making him smile adoringly at her face, mouth parted slightly, eyes shut, though not tightly, her head slightly back. She was a goddess of the hunt, fire and wolf and pure forest with the scent of beautiful nights, and she bowed to him.

Except in this room, where she was queen, he was servant, and when she pleased him, it was only because she reminded him she was indeed queen in this room and it was her desire.

Ulric sat up, kneading her breasts as he devoured her exposed throat, suckling and nipping and kissing as his fingers teased her mercilessly, making her moa for more, more that she would get. He kissed down her neck and chest as his hands moved to her back, holding her up as he suckled and nipped and teased with tongue and teeth, sharp but never breaking skin.

Melantha was moaning and gasping, her skin starting to moisten with sweat as he felt a dampness between her kegs press into him, near his own arousal, and he growled, moving his mouth up to kiss her hungrily. She gripped his shoulder, pressing herself against him, returning the kiss with her own hunger.

"Ulric, please, I have waited long enough," she finally whispered when the kiss ended, only for his mouth to find hers again after she spoke.

"I know, my queen, I know," he told her after flipping them back over, and his hands stroked her inner thighs, up to her hips, and he found a firm yet tender grip there. "And I will try to make amends for forcing you to wait on my."

He thrust, entering tight, wet heat, growling as he felt her claw at his back, her eyes clenching shut as she cried out. He could see the slight relief and the plea for the full release only he had ever given her, and he pulled out, almost whimpering at the loss, but was back in his home again within seconds. He continued, fast and steady, his mouth tasting her skin and the salty sweat of it, arousal filling the air, filling his nostrils, making his head swim as he began to lose his hold over himself.

"Let go, my king," she whispered, a whimper and a plea, a warning of her approaching release, and he did as she commanded, letting out a howl as he came inside her, powerful and hot and blinding. She followed suite, letting out her own pleasured howl, a beautiful song that he relished, as she was trembling violently in his arms as her own rapture swept through her.

And then the peak of it was gone, leaving them riding the dying waves that left them panting and sated on the bed, tangled and touching, tender kisses all they could manage for the moment. Bathed in sweat and afterglow, they held each other as tightly as their limbs could, nuzzling like the wolves they were inside.

Vladimir walked into the training room just in time to see the latter half of two turned werewolves sparring session. He knew from the scent and their wolfen forms that they were turned, Aysel and Donovan.

The two were almost identical in lycan form, with two tall, fierce animals in bodies that were only bipedal, Donovan seven feet tall, Aysel just three inches shorter. Their heads and faces were almost panther-like, with eyes that were narrowed almost to slits, Donovan with jet black, Aysel with a silver hued pair. Her skin was dark gray, with darker, course fur on her head and a few other places, the same for Donovan with his black skin and fur.

Vladimir smirked as Aysel slashed at Donovan's midsection, the male barely dodging the fierce attack. They had long limbs, especially their legs, with ankles snapped backwards, and they almost seemed to be standing on tiptoes with their small paws. Their shoulders and chest bulked with muscle, and their hands had talon-like claws, long and vicious, slightly curved.

Donovan roared, baring long, strong canines in his short muzzle, too thick to be necessarily sharp, but they could easily tear through flesh with little effort involved. He lunged at Aysel, tackling her into the wall before she could avoid him.

But the female, though smaller, was not about to be defeated so easily, and she bit into the male's shoulder, causing him to let out a roar of pain. She removed her own jaws from him, licking the blood from them and letting out a low growl before she swiped his chest.

The male backed away several steps, snarling ferociously and he feinted an attack at her shoulders, then slashed her left side, causing her to let out a low howl. He seemed to almost grin at her before he cut her shoulder and knocked her to the ground, standing over her and letting out a victorious howl.

Aysel was not about to submit to him just yet, and she swiftly rolled over onto her stomach and lifted herself from the submissive position at his feet, pouncing and biting deep into his other shoulder. She did not let up as he growled and roared, not relenting until he yelped at last, and then she let go, much to the relief of the male.

Backing away from him, she starting to shrink, her skin changing from dark gray to a gentle tan, her fur disappearing, the mane on her head growing longer and brown and spreading over a face that was becoming human and beautiful. Finally, Aysel stood there in all her glory. Victorious, bathed in sweat and blood, she bore a few cuts and gashes, but her slim, toned body was recovered quickly.

Donovan began the transformation back into human form as well, his skin growing lighter and tanner, but the fur stayed the same color as it became human hair once more. The blackness of the eyes shrank into pupils, revealing blue-gray irises. He was muscular and tall, not overly bulky, but his military training was more than evident. He had a cleft in his chin and full lips, and his features were similar to those of the werewolf Richard.

Partly because they were cousins.

The male stood there with many more wounds than his mate, his two shoulders covered in blood, and he was sweating and panting as he pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on.

Aysel had always been the more dominant one of the pair, and Donovan never really seemed to mind, just pretend to. While when they had been human he had always been stronger and faster and just a better fighter, he had always submitted himself to her.

The Hungarian woman had met Donovan one summer when his family decided to have their family reunion somewhere foreign and had settled upon the beautiful city of Budapest. Aysel had met the whole family, Richard included, then, and Donovan had courted her after meeting her in the café she worked at, and she had fallen for the American's eager charm after a few weeks.

They had corresponded as much as possible with letters, phone calls, e-mails, after he left Budapest, keeping in touch as much as possible. He had even sent her money to come to America to be with his family when he returned home from military training, promising he would ask her to marry him that day.

Aysel had come, but so had a small clan of vampires, and they took an interest in her. Unfortunately for Aysel and Donovan's family, the plane landed at night, and the vampires had been able to follow Aysel and to Donovan's home, attacking the family.

Only Aysel, Richard, and later Donovan knew what happened that night, but it had changed Aysel, more so than Richard and Donovan, and when the werewolves of that city had come, catching the scent of vampire in the air during a hunt, finding the two survivors of the massacre, they had offered them new life as lycanthropes.

Eagerly, Aysel had taken it up, and convinced Richard easily into it as well. Once Donovan had arrived home, Aysel had turned him, marking him as hers and hers alone. And she was his and his alone. But they still liked to beat each other up half the time.

All three of them had shown great skill and potential, ending them up here, at the main headquarters in Prague. And on Vladimir's team.

"I hope you two didn't wear yourselves out when you are supposed to be getting ready to go on a hunt," Vladimir said, officially announcing his presence and walking over onto the fighting mat. His arms were folded, and his face was blank, but he held a spark in his eyes that said he was pleased with the fighting skills he had seen, and displeased with the waste of time and energy.

In human form, Vladimir wasn't as imposing and intimidating as Ulric, but he was close, though for different reasons. He let his hair - shoulder length, wavy, and chestnut, matching the color of his fur - stay down, hardly ever combing it so it appeared almost wild at times, like he had run through the forest and not bothered to straighten it out. He was the same height as Ulric, somewhat broad and muscular, with a stern face, scruffy beard, semi-long sideburns, and a scowl that could send shivers down the spines of vampires and younger werewolves.

Though Aysel and Donovan had lost that fear of him long ago. They still respected and feared him for his strength and skill and position, but they never showed the fear, nor did they let it overtake them or cloud their judgment, never cowering when they should be backing.

Vladimir's eyes were dark, a mixture of hazel and green, and their stare was often broken by the young pups that would fail the training to be on his team. They were more often emotionless then anything else, though now they were unusually exposing.

Perhaps the thrill of the hunt, or the reprimand from Ulric had caused him to lose his control over what was shown in his eyes.

"Where is Valora?" he asked softly, but was answered by Valora herself as she entered, already dressed and prepared for the afternoon's mission. He noticed the longing and appreciative stare in her eyes, but ignored it, as always.

Valora had set her sights on Vladimir many years ago, when the remains of her pack had moved from America to the shelter of the headquarters. She admired Vladimir's leadership qualities with the team, yet his humble and submissiveness with Ulric and Melantha, his loyalty never faltering for his own ambitions. But she was now at odds with Meira, who had tried to tell Valora many times she had no desire in the beta male.

Jealousy does not make the best listener though, and it was well known now that there was rivalry between the two females.

It was not that Vladimir found Valora unattractive or worthy. From a viewing standpoint, Valora was pleasing to the eye, especially for the wolf inside him.

With blondish-brown hair that was kept short, dark eyes that told almost every emotion unless she was out with the team on duty, no-nonsense attitude, dedication, toned body and warm smile that could quickly turn into a vicious snarl, she was a warrior, obviously not restricting her wolf beyond keeping it beneath her skin most of the time. She was very much like Vladimir, and sometimes he regretted his attentions being wasted on Meira.

But the daughter of the only female to ever be alpha was showing the potential to be just as great as her mother. Fierce, loyal, obedient but with a questioning curiosity and an almost inability to take everything at face value, she was enticing, tempting. She was beautiful, and though not fond of violence, she was hardly afraid to attack ruthlessly when she had to, for her sake of herself or for someone she loved.

Those qualities had drawn Vladimir to her, the fight she put up against him had sealed his want for her. He was resolved to make her his mate.

And to find some way to humiliate Nomak if he could not kill him. The carrier Reaper was an arrogant prick, acting as though he was still a vampire prince and not an outcast, a mutation, a mistake, nothing more than a creature to be sought out and destroyed.

Vladimir forced himself to get over his wounded pride and return his focus to the top three members of his team. "Aysel, Donovan, go dress and prepare yourselves. Valora, make sure the others know their duties and shifts up until dawn, we don't know how long this will take," he instructed the three. "I will go and make sure Richard has all the security systems functioning, just in case something should happen."

The teammates nodded and split, Valora heading out to make sure the others knew what to do, Aysel and Donovan heading out to wash and dress, Vladimir striding out and down the hall to find Richard.

The beta really didn't think they would find anything, or that anything would happen, unless it was internal, and then it would be a disaster named Nomak going crazy only to be put down by Ulric. If Vladimir was lucky, anyway.

Karen walked into another lab room, almost smirking at the sight before her as she folded her arms. She leaned against the wall, deciding to watch for a moment.

Whistler was awake all right, and trying to shove the two werewolves away from his, cursing fouler than she had heard from him. He showed no sign of worry about fighting younger, stronger looking males, especially when he didn't even know if they were human or not, but, that was Whistler for you.

"Get your damn hands off me, you sons of bitches!" he shouted, trying to get off the hospital like bed. "I want to know where the fu-" he started, but Karen decided now she should cut in.

"Whistler, it's ok," she said, loudly but calmly. "They just want to take your vitals, make sure you're alright, weren't hurt or bitten by one of the reapers," she informed him as she walked over, smiling at the recognition and surprise in the old man's eyes.

He calmed down considerably, now more interested in her than fending off the two males. "Karen? Well, if I'll be damned. I've been wonderin' where you were. Never thought I'd find you in a place like this, whatever it is," he stated, casting baleful glares at the two males.

Karen laughed softly and came over to where he sat on the bed. "This place isn't as bad as you think. I'm with an, organization, that despises vampires and is now going to make sure their reaper problem is taken care of, as well as wipe the vampires out," she told Whistler. "And they can do it too. They're more powerful, and they are the ones truly pulling the strings."

Whistler's eyes narrowed in confusion and suspicion. "What do you mean?"

"They are werewolves, Whistler. And they have Nomak."

The first thing that popped into Blade's head was the first thing that came out of Scud's mouth.

"You gotta be shitting me."

Yeah, that about summed it up.

Blade stared Damaskinos, not even blinking. The half vampire had never, ever had his world turned upside down, not even when Frost had come and Whistler became a vampire plaything. That had changed things, made him feel an ache he had hoped only humans would ever feel. But it was nothing like this.

This, this threw everything out the window and started from scratch, and he was having to depend on Damaskinos for the beginnings of it. If this wasn't some bullshit trick.

"So, you're telling me, that there really are werewolves, and that they are above vampires?" he asked, not quite believing and really hoping he didn't need to. "How? They can't control the change, if they're even real, and I've never heard anything about them, nothing. How is that possible?"

Damaskinos smirked, looking smug even while he seemed to be in a bind. "Because they can control their change and because their leader, their top alpha, is very old, he is, older than even I am," the elder vampire admitted with loathing in his voice, looking down slightly. It obviously was a blow to his pride to reveal such a fact.

"He's older than you, therefore more careful, less sloppy, than you is that it?" Blade asked, taking advantage of Damaskinos' discomfort. "And let me guess. They are careful enough with their meals that if it's discovered, it looks like an animal attack, or even a victim of a vampire, perhaps?"

"You are a fast learner, Daywalker. But we'll have to wait and see if you are fast enough," Damaskinos remarked. "You must now hunt a far more powerful prey, prey that will likely turn into your predator. They know too much. They want to wipe my kind out, and now they will go after Nomak, if they do not already have him, which is likely. They will use him against us, and ultimately, your beloved humanity will suffer for it."

"How the hell do I know this is true?" Blade demanded, still not fully buying it.

Damaskinos grinned, sickening, an old man's leer. "Because we will throw you out onto the streets where you will see the truth with your own eyes. For they no longer will stay in shadow and reign calmly and discreetly."

Blade sighed, shaking his head. He really wasn't buying all this, but perhaps some of it was true. He glanced at Scud, then cursed silently as he realized he had forgotten one of the few things that mattered besides the destruction of vampires.

Whistler.

"They took him, we believe," Damaskinos said with a knowing smile. "Whether or not he is alive, that we do not know. If he is fortunate, he is dead. It is not good to be kept alive by lycanthropes. They are not merciful captors," he told Blade. "Perhaps that knowledge will help sway your mind."

Fangs were bared in Blade's snarl as he replied to the decaying elder. "How do I know you aren't just saying that to sway me?"

"I think it should be, how do you know I am?"

Nomak was enjoying the walk down the hallways of the werewolves' headquarters, and thankful for the silence during it. He did not hold a grudge because of the punch to his gut earlier, honestly. Well, perhaps a little. But he preferred the silence even without that. He did not like talking and noise, nor did he like having to talk.

It hurt to talk, and he had done so much with Ulric already.

Finally Meira stopped at a door, beautiful wood, a deep red tint to it, and turned to face him, pride and fire in her light eyes. "Here, your guest chambers," she said curtly, obviously eager for their parting.

"Thanks," he said briefly and opened the door, walking in. He turned around, noticing she hadn't left, and cocked his head to the side.

"Are they to your liking? Ulric will want to know if you find anything to your displeasure, or need anything," she explained to him, and he was almost surprised she didn't shift her weight to one leg, placing her hands on her hips, and yawn with boredom and exasperation.

"They're fine," he replied.

Meira arched an eyebrow. "You haven't looked at them yet."

"I want to lie down and talking hurts," he told her, eyes narrowing. "So you can tell him they are fine, and let me rest."

Meira nodded, looking slightly apologetic. "I didn't know that it hurt to talk, I'm sorry. I'll let you get some rest, and make sure nobody else bothers you, except to bring you blood or if Ulric wishes to speak with you," she told him.

Nomak nodded. "Thanks," he muttered out again and closed the door, walking farther into the room and looking around.

The room was not ornately decorated, but it was furnished well and comfortably. It was mostly blues and some black and some white, with a bed, a desk, a door to a bathroom, a door to a closet he would never use, and a few other furnishings.

Sighing and peeling off his clothes so that he could lose some of the unbearable heat, Nomak neared the bed. He shed his clothing, the garments scattered all over the floor as he reached the bed and laid down on it. He almost sighed again, this time from bliss at the feel a soft mattress and cool, cotton covers beneath his feverish skin.

He did not know what purpose Ulric wanted him to serve, not completely or exactly, but he owed the werewolves for the bed and the cooled blood. But it proved his thoughts that they wanted something of him, they had some deed for him to do. Nobody showed a monster kindness unless they did not want to get dirty themselves.