Author's note: Well, I finally got this chapter done, so sorry it took me so long. With school, my writing course, hectic schedule, and other projects, my attention is having to be divided and my fanfics can get neglected. But this chapter is fairly long, so hopefully you'll forgive me. Though it ends on a cliffy. Very sorry, but the muse wanted it to end there. Hope you enjoy it though, and reviews are wonderful, I love getting them.

Disclaimer: I own the werewolves and Faris, but that's it. No suing me, ok? I'm not making money off this, and you killed off my favorite character, Mr. Goyer, so you shouldn't make any money off this either.

CHAPTER SIX: COMPLICATIONS AND AWKWARD SITUATIONS

Valora was chewing her lip when Vladimir stormed into the "locker room" area of the offensive security team's quarters. It was a bad habit of hers. A very bad one, considering her sharper canines. But she had developed it long before she had even heard of werewolves - though she had been young enough to believe in anything she heard of, including werewolves - and the bad habit stuck like, well, a bad habit.

She knew that if not for Meira, she would have Vladimir. She knew that if he was not constantly seeing the pureblood princess, he would be able to end his intentions towards her, and focus them on Valora instead.

But they lived in the same, fricking building. And even lycanthrope males could be just as predictable as human males. All males, really. They always wanted that which they could never have. Especially if they kept getting it rubbed in their faces.

And you aren't doing the exact same thing? No, of course not. Because you liked to "remind" yourself that if another worthy male came along, you would drop Vladimir. Or drop your desire for him, at least, since you can't drop what you don't hold. Or something like that.

Vladimir was loyal but fierce. He was good leader, but he was a good follower when it came to Ulric and even Melantha. Still, there were times Valora saw rebellion in his eyes, but he controlled it. Perhaps that was what drew her to him. He could control it so well usually.

Or so she thought, until she heard Vladimir storming towards the locker room - which really only had a few lockers, and was co-ed, but was mainly just used for when someone had to get cleaned up quickly between missions - the scent of blood heavy and filling her nostrils.

His injured, bloodied state had caused Valora to literally gape at him in shock. She had never seen him in such a state, and soundproof walls made sure she didn't hear whatever commotion that had lead to his current appearance. He was also fuming, that was obvious, and he didn't even seem to notice her presence.

The familiar stench of reaper blood met her nostrils as well, and she saw some of the gooey, amber liquid on Vladimir, mixing with his crimson blood. For a moment she was confused - she knew he had cleaned off most of the blood from the tunnels ambush, after he changed back to human form - until she remembered that the carrier reaper was now Ulric's guest.

Should have seen this coming. He's a vampire prince turned into an even more dangerous - and unstable, most likely - being. Why wasn't he kept contained the whole time?

Valora eyed the Beta male with caution, knowing this was not the time to rub him the wrong way. Which meant she had to be quiet and leave before he noticed her, because when he was this angry - Valora had only seen him this angry twice, but she had heard stories form those that had been around for longer - anything and everything could rub him the wrong way.

Her efforts failed her though, as the moment she rose to try and slip out, Vladimir whirled around and focused his dark eyes on her. She tensed slightly, but otherwise showed the same respect and attitude towards him as usual. Except, she had kept her attraction to a minimum, trying to hide it completely.

Vladimir let out a growl before he relaxed slightly and turned from her, slamming his fist into a locker, crushing it, the metal bending at his strength. He panted, head bowed as he visibly struggled with himself, and for a moment Valora wondered if he would lose to the wolf. But soon his breathing had calmed and he stood straight, hand falling to his side.

"Sorry for appearing so, out of control," he stated softly, turning and giving her the look he often gave those on his team when he felt he had failed them or shown weakness as a leader. "But, things are becoming more tense. Our, guest, still believes himself a prince," he muttered darkly, his accent becoming even more pronounced. He then closed his eyes and forced away the scowl, face becoming a neutral mask once more.

Confused, concerned, and cautious, Valora slowly took a few steps towards Vladimir, eyeing his condition. He looked pretty bad, worse than she had ever seen him before from just one opponent. The scents radiating off him made her cringe and unconsciously lick her lips.

"What happened?" she asked softly, her curiosity getting the better of her, and she didn't notice the way her breathing was picking up ever so slightly.

With an almost defeated sigh, Vladimir turned away from her and tore off his ruined shirt, which only caused Valora's breathing to speed up more, and she finally became aware of the increasingly loud howls inside her head as her heart began to race. He didn't seem to notice though, or was ignoring her reactions as usual, instead keeping his back to her as he continued undressing.

"I'm not in the mood to explain things calmly," he replied gruffly, then paused, sniffing the air. "Good. Those two are done here," he muttered as he removed his boots, the reference obvious to her.

After all, there had been plenty of times she and some of the others would avoid the showers until Donovan and Aysel were done. Unless someone was in the mood to watch and then get their genitals damaged beyond repair.

Vladimir removed his pants and Valora licked her canines, fingers itching to remove the last piece of clothing for him, then take advantage of the area that would be exposed. But she kept herself in check, instead opting to just enjoy the show he was giving her for some reason. She realized he certainly was in a foul, strange mood if he was giving her almost too much temptation to bear.

"What did they do with Nomak?" Valora asked, taking a step closer, biting her lip and chewing hard as she tried to get rid of the growing ache between her thighs. But she gave up when Vladimir removed his last garment and turned slightly, giving her a brief glimpse. She avoided that area though, figuring it probably wasn't wise to openly stare when he was looking right at her.

It was that she hadn't seen him before, she had. Plenty of times. But never like this. Never alone, tensions thick for various reasons and causes, the heavy scent of blood lingering and filling her nostrils, his actions showing no sign that he cared if she was lusting after him or not. This time, it was a lot harder to control her urges.

"He's probably being tended to by Meira," Vladimir said with a disgusted but resigned tone, and jealousy laced his words, cutting Valora, but it only heightened her desire, bringing her anger out to mingle. Vladimir started to turn from her to head into the showers, but she pounced, keeping him there.

They hit a few lockers, leaving dents in the metal. Valora pressed herself against him and she felt claws dig into her hips as he tried shoving her away, but her own claws latched onto his shoulders, digging in and getting a good grip, her mouth against his. And then he was returning it, pinning her to the ground, growling dominantly, and she felt him harden against her.

Triumph surged through Valora's veins, the wolf howling with victory, and she purred into Vladimir as he kissed her savagely, canines sharp and long and nipping at her lips and tongue, drawing blood that he licked up as he tore her shirt off, the fabric ripping but the sound didn't even register in Valora's mind. All she was aware of was she finally was getting what she wanted. A selfish part of her felt a strange sense of gratitude towards Jared Nomak - it was Vladimir's anger and remaining energy that was getting her this. She didn't delude herself into thinking he truly wanted her.

Yet.

Loud gasps and grunts emerged from the two werewolves as they moved against each other, with each other. Vladimir's fingers moved to Valora's pants to rip them off, Valora's claws raked down his back and over his ass cheeks, hips arching up slightly as he began to grind into her instinctively. They were so caught up in the lust for mating they didn't smell pr hear Ulric's approach, not even registering his presence until he cleared his throat.

The two werewolves froze, eyes opening and meeting before their heads tilted so they could look up at the Alpha male, who looked down at them with a slightly impatient look, eyes focusing on Vladimir, the head lycanthrope all business.

Valora felt herself turn red, cursing mentally. She felt as if her whole body was turning a bright, shameful red as she laid there beneath Vladimir, but Ulric wasn't paying attention to her. She just prayed word of this never reached Melantha - the Alpha female was rather, possessive, of her mate.

"Report," Ulric stated with a neutral tone, arms folded over his chest, and he appeared to be hiding anger beneath his calm, detached demeanor. He obviously wasn't in the best of moods, but what scared Valora most was how he never showed his anger. He was always calm. No matter what happened, he was always calm it seemed.

She began to wonder how frightening it must be for those who actually saw him lose his calm - if and when that ever happened.

Vladimir never once moved, not to cover her better or remove himself from her completely, but remained perfectly still as he gave the Alpha their report of how things went in the tunnels. He explained that there were some remaining reapers, but all were dead - except one, though he wasn't sure if it had been a reaper or not, but there was someone else down there that was away from the group. That one got away.

Judging by the tightening of Ulric's jaw and the brief tick in his cheek, that news didn't settle well on the already angered Alpha. But he didn't say anything more, simply nodded and turned, striding out of the room and down the hall. His wordless departure made Valora even more nervous and more confused over just what exactly had happened earlier.

There was a shift above her, and then Vladimir was standing, turning his back to her and walking towards the showers. He paused, glancing over his shoulders after a moment, but Valora knew not to get her hopes up, nor did she have the strength to now. It was obvious he wasn't going to take her now.

"This never happened. Be thankful," he stated softly, but firmly, then walked into the showers, disappearing from sight, leaving her empty and frustrated.

Valora let out a mournful roar before she pulled herself up, walking over to her locker to pull out a new shirt, the other one beyond repair. She heard the sound of water running and could smell the soap Vladimir was using to wash off his and Nomak's blood and her scent. Valora's clenched fist hit the locker at her right, leaving just as much damageas Vladimir's punch had.

Faris was an oddity among Damaskinos' enforcers. He was not a pureblood or a familiar. In fact, he was not only an oddity, but a rarity. He was the only halfbreed Damaskinos allowed among him threshold. He had worked hard to be accepted and turned, too, and it had taken him almost his whole life.

The son of a raped familiar, Faris was raised among vampires. He knew their customs better than human customs, even. He could speak some vampiric, most of it picked up, not taught, but that had taken him about five years to figure out. He was raised to be a familiar enforcer, but he longed to be a vampire.

After his mother's death, Faris had taken his place as an enforcer. He was nearly twenty-five at the time, and served loyally until he was reaching his mid thirties. Around that time, he was wounded, fatally, but a human vampire hunter bent on eradicating the vampire race because his parents had been turned. Faris had struggled with the other human, an ended up with a bowie knife in his stomach.

Though, to be fair, the human hunter had ended up with a broken neck.

Faris still couldn't remember who exactly had turned him, but he was just thankful to still be alive and finally be the vampire he had always longed to be. Since then, he had trained even more, becoming just as good as most of the members of the Bloodpack - better than a certain few, actually, in his opinion - but Damaskinos had kept him as a personal enforcer, not allowing the halfbreed to join the fighting squad meant to take out Blade.

The disappointment had been deep, but he hadn't shown it. He knew it was because he was a halfbreed, not because Damaskinos honestly preferred him there because of his skills. He was not unaware of the purebloods' view on halfbreeds. But that didn't mean he was never effected by it. He was. He just learned to get over it.

Unlike Danica Talos. Danica was determined to rise up in the vampiric ranks, determined to become just as powerful as some purebloods. She despised the way she was treated by purebloods, and she showed it. If she wasn't such a bratty, little bitch, Faris might have been able to respect her for her perseverance and strong will.

And now, as she was emerging from the library, Faris knew he would be the subject of her strong will. He strong, bitchy, bratty, overly selfish and overly sexual will. Her eyes landing on him and narrowing with obvious contempt proved him right.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she asked, her tone just as conceited and disgusted as usual. "I thought you would be out doing slave labor in the fields," she said with a bitter tone, her words meant to bite his calm. She had been like this ever since she'd discovered she'd been used by him.

Faris simply rolled his eyes, then grabbed her arm and twisted hard. He smirked slightly at the yelp she gave before he led her away from the archives. She had taken a little more than two hours, but not two and half. At two and a half, he would have gone in there to retrieve her.

Danica snarled at him and struggled, beating on his hand with her fist before clawing at it and trying to stomp on his feet with her heels. In the end, she just broke one heel and couldn't walk without his help unless she took her shoes off. Struggling to keep her pride intact around him, she let him lead her away quietly, but her eyes glared ice and daggers.

"So, you're just a guard dog and an escort now? Pathetic," she muttered, shaking her head. "Don't you realize what kind of sick freak you are, acting like this? You suck up to that old marble statue and cling to the hope that one day you'll not just be a vampire, you'll be accepted as a vampire, as a pureblood would be," she continued, but Faris remained silent, ignoring her. "You never will be, Faris. You never will be, because you're too weak in their eyes, too, contaminated," she hissed, her tone acidic. "You are nothing. You're nothing but a familiar on steroids. Even lower. You're a dog on steroids."

Faris let go of Danica as she finished speaking, glancing over to her waiting brother and Jarko Grimwood, the latter giving him a glare and a snarl, his expression making it clear he still hated Faris as well, and was itching to whale on the other halfbreed. Faris half wanted him too - it would be quite satisfactory to beat Grimwood into the ground again. Especially after Danica's words.

"Go home, Danica. Find someone with a big dick and fuck them and get your frustrations out while you drain them dry like the succubus you are," Faris told her with a firm, contemptuous tone, then turned and stalked away, walking over to the control panel to shut the door once Danica and her entourage left. He ignored the dark glares and muttered curses under Danica's breath, just listened to the sound of her stumble along as Ash and Jarko were forced to help her walk out.

He wouldn't let Danica's words get to him, he wasn't that low. He was a target of her contempt merely because of their previous involvement. That was all. He wouldn't let her words get to him, because he had gotten to her, after all. Every time he suffered her tongue lashings, it was purely because he'd damaged her pride. He should feel proud.

Melantha sighed softly as she silently strolled into the indoor garden. It was peaceful, fresh, calming. The serene aura of it washed over the Head Alpha Female, and she took in a deep breath as she headed over to sit with Silvia, her pace slow and languid as she felt her mind and body calm. She wished Ulric had come to join her, but he sought to relieve his frustration another way.

His loss, Melantha thought with a faint smirk that faded into concern. She hoped Ulric would take care of himself - of course, she thought that every time he left, and every time he came back perfectly fine. Why she hadn't been able to move past worrying in thousands of years, well, she did know.

Watching Silvia as she neared the lower ranking Alpha reminded Melantha of a past heartache that still flared up every now and then, and told her exactly why she feared for her mate every time he left their sanctuary.

Sitting down in a chair beside Silvia, the two females remained silent, taking in the sights and sounds and scents of the garden.

It was cavernous almost, the top only reachable due to their lycanthropic strength giving them the ability to jump as high as some buildings. The glass was misty, keeping the sunlight from being too harsh, but allowing the light of that bright star and the moon to filter in. The plants were wild and beautiful, flowers blooming everywhere, except for the select few that were night blooming.

"We haven't talked in a while, Silvia," Melantha finally stated, glancing over at the other Alpha female, seeing the lines and cares and heartaches she hid from all the others, especially Meira. "I know we were never the best of friends, but we talked. It's been years now."

The other female closed her eyes, as if in pain, and she nodded, opening them as she slowly turned her head to meet Melantha's gaze. "Every time I visit, I smell him, and I see my daughter grow more and more distant," she whispered softly. "I, I almost want to hate Ulric for taking her away from me, but she's better off here," Silvia admitted, looking down again.

There was a brief flicker of anger in Melantha, but she soothed it, reaching over and placing her hand on Silvia's shoulder. She needed to offer comfort, not grow protective over nothing - it was perfectly understandable for Silvia want to have her daughter with her at all times, after all.

"She loves you. But she isn't like you. She has your strength and strong will, and his stubbornness," Melantha told the other female, earning a brief, bittersweet smile. "She loves science. Right now, she isn't sure of her place. Losing her father and nearly losing you has left her unsure of what she wants, and she is battling with her wolf. She resents your position and how it keeps you from her, but she doesn't resent you," she explained to Silvia, her time around Meira giving hr insight into the young female's troubles.

"I hate myself sometimes. Why did I fight so hard to keep my position, and keep all males from taking the one left empty by his death?" Silvia asked, her eyes glassy and questioning.

Melantha smiled faintly and stroked Silvia's hair back, her own eyes growing wet, stinging as that old heartache returned, a sharp pain in her chest, merciless and cruel. "Because you knew it was for the best. Because you were worthy, and because no other was worthy to take his place in your eyes. You are a good Alpha, Silvia. And a good mother. Meira would throw a fit if you ever stepped down or let another male come in. She resents your position, but she understand and supports your reasons for keeping."

The younger female looked down a soft shudder the only movement from her besides her shaky breathing for the next several moments. "Rolf always loved the gardens here," she finally whispered, her tone mournful and strained.

Closing her eyes, some of that stinging wetness slipped from Melantha's eyes and she nodded, opening her burning eyes and looking around. "I used to let him play in the gardens of our old home when he was little. He all but grew up in them. He once told me he didn't remember those days, but some part of him did," she whispered in reply, fond memories making her smile and more tears spilled.

"He once told me he used to resent your position, as you say Meira resents mine. The both of you," Silvia stated, glancing back at Melantha. "He told me that he finally understood you and his father after becoming Alpha. Maybe one day Meira will find her place as an Alpha. Perhaps then she won't resent any of us anymore."

A soft smile curved Melantha's lips and she nodded. "When you leave next week, she will mourn you, and she will cry. She always does. But she won't accept any comfort. She's just like her father in that regard," she informed Silvia, and the other female closed her eyes, a rueful smile forming.

"She certainly is. Sometimes she won't even let me know she's hurting. He always tried to hide it from me too." There was a long pause, and Silvia gave her mother-in-law a grateful smile as the older female wrapped an arm around her. "He tried to hide it even when he was dying."

Melantha closed her eyes, even while Silvia shuddered and cried in silence. She quietly prayed Ulric would return home safely as she held the other Alpha female comfortingly.

Nyssa strode beside Blade, Scud walked near them, Snowman and Reinhardt bringing up the rear. They were back in the tunnels, searching around. There were reaper remains everywhere, but not a sign of anything alive. The scent of werewolf was heavy though, which led Nyssa to believe it was possible Ulric, the werewolf leader, had sent out a scout party, and that there possibly had been some alive, but not after the lycanthropes finished their search.

Snowman and Reinhardt hadn't said anything about not being told about the werewolves, but had taken in the information with heavy sighs and Reinhardt had made some sarcastic comments about fighting off parasites and dogs at the same time.

Blade had ignored the comment and told them they would head down to the tunnels, see if there were any leads. He had been informed that going straight to the werewolf headquarters was impossible since a, they didn't know where it was and b, it was heavily guarded, the leader of the race being a strong, tactical leader who protected his species with a fierce dedication.

Of course, Blade had made a comment aimed at her father that struck Nyssa like a slap to the face, but what bothered her most was that she was allowing his comments to hurt. At one point she had been able to ignore them or merely feel insult and righteous anger. Now she felt shame and hurt.

She was supposed to protect her father's reputation, not silently wish he couldn't be talked lowly of by a being lower than a halfbreed, though strong as any pureblood. But now she merely gave Blade a dark glare and kept her silence when he threw insults at her father.

Nyssa wondered though, was Blade right? Was her father really a poor leader, abandoning his people to hide away and preserve his own life? Was that dishonorable, his dedication to survival over his people? Was he truly like that? No, he was good and honorable, searching for a way to save his people. He sought to preserve himself so he could save his race. Perhaps not every single one, but his intentions were for the good of their race. Blade was wrong about him.

Absently fingering the ring she wore, Nyssa cast a sidelong glance at Blade, keeping it brief, her expression bored, hiding her interest and confusion. She wasn't sure how to be around him anymore. He had proved himself honorable, he had acted almost, protective, of her, concerned for her, and it confused her.

Since learning of the werewolves and the recent developments, he had grown distant and cold again. Why did that hurt so much? It wasn't supposed to hurt so much. She wasn't supposed to care about him, but about the mission, and then killing him when it was done. Now she wanted nothing to do with his death, but with finding out why he hated her kind just so much.

Did he think they were murderers? They were just the top of the food chain. After all, there were some humans that believed animals had souls, were just as sentient as humans and vampires and werewolves were. But most humans still ate animals, why should the vampires be any different with the humans? Did he really want them all to just feed off the same food humans ate? To degrade themselves to act like bums and scavengers?

Nyssa shut her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, and she felt eyes on her. Opening her pair once more, she met Blade's gaze seeing the almost uninterested curiosity in his eyes. "The smell," she muttered, and the Daywalker nodded and looked away once more.

She wanted to glare at him with contempt and insult, but even her self hatred at the inability to do so was interrupted by a strong scent of werewolf and footsteps, soft, almost completely silent, but apparently it was either a young werewolf or one who didn't mind being heard.

The others all paused, Blade holding up a hand for silence, his expression one of concentration, while Scud fidgeted like usual, only more nervously this time.

Scud had been rather, paranoid, since learning he would be coming down to the tunnels this time, and Nyssa was almost amazed he hadn't fired that gun he was clutching tightly in both hands at one of the rats scurrying around.

Nyssa took her focus off him and returned it to the approaching werewolf. It was male, she gathered that from his scent, and he was heading towards them from the tunnel ahead of them, to their left. As the footsteps grew nearer, Blade signaled for them to head into the tunnel they'd passed, the five of them slipping into it, weapons drawn and ready.

Blade glanced at her, his eyes at her weapon - the twin blades she'd used on him when they first "met." She caught the same look she'd seen in his eyes back at the warehouse when he told her about the UV bomb, and part of her felt relief that he still held some of his concern - he was making sure she had protection, was safe.

The Daywalker didn't meet her eyes as he looked away, possibly aware of her eyes on him, the look in her eyes. It was likely he didn't want to meet it, because he didn't want to admit the concern he felt.

Nyssa understood that all too well. But to her reproach, she was losing the guarded demeanor around him.

The two of them focused on the werewolf once more, Scud making a small noise, immediately getting whacked upside the head by Reinhardt, and then the group was silent again. The footsteps were out in the main tunnel now, heading towards their, and they stood poised, ready to attack.

Nyssa's mouth nearly dropped open when the male lycanthropic came into view, walking directly in front of their tunnel and standing so he faced him.

Dressed in an impeccable pinstriped suit, his hair brushed back, beard trimmed neat and short, silver eyes filled with a strange kind of Mirth, Ulric gave them a toothy grin, canines long and sharp, making vampire fangs look like baby teeth. His gaze took in all of them, then focused on Nyssa and Blade, making the female vampire want to squirm under her armor, that gaze penetrating her like two silver bullets, their specialized weapons useless against the lead Alpha.

"Well, well, well," the lycanthrope Alpha murmured in a hypnotic, condescending voice filled with a sick amusement. "Damaskinos sent out the remains of his ragtag, little team. And I thought my outing would be boring."