by L. L. Raand
Jody’s obsidian eyes, permanently slashed with scarlet now that she was Risen, glittered with suppressed hunger, a reminder that the truly powerful Vampires were always a danger. Even when they were friends.
“Your company is sufficient, Prima.”
Drake laughed. “Your consort would not agree.”
Jody smiled. “Ah, you are correct. Nor would your mate, I fear.”
“How is Becca?”
A flicker of emotion eclipsed the cold dispassion in Jody’s gaze, reminding Drake just why her best friend Becca loved her. Jody might be remote and possessed of terrible power, but she had not completely lost her ability to care. Drake did not fear power—Sylvan was in every way as fearsome as any Vampire. Only Sylvan was ruled by instinct and passion, not the insatiable hunger of blood lust.
“She is well.” Jody touched her pale, slender hand to her chest, over the spot where her heart once beat. “And she never ceases to remind me of all I should be.”
“Tell her I miss her.”
Jody nodded. “I shall.”
Through the open door, Drake saw Jace storm across the Compound yard toward her quarters. A second later Sylvan’s wolf bounded into the antechamber with Niki right behind her. Shoulders bunched, ears up, and golden eyes gleaming, the great silver wolf swung her head around and took in the group. Her gaze settled on Drake.
Join me?
Sylvan padded away toward a narrow hallway curving around behind the main staircase.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Drake said to Jody, “the imperator will escort you to the main hall.”
“Of course,” Jody said in a velvet tone that skimmed over Drake’s skin like a warm breeze. If she’d not been mated, that tone might have stirred hunger of quite a different nature.
Drake followed Sylvan’s scent down the hall and leaned in the open door of one of the many equipment rooms scattered throughout the Compound, filled with weapons, food caches, and uniforms. The silver wolf shimmered and turned almost faster than she could perceive it.
Drake smiled as Sylvan stood naked before her. “You enjoyed that little show in the courtyard, didn’t you?”
Sylvan grinned, the last of the gold slowly bleeding from her eyes. “You know me too well, mate. Breaking up a tussle between two young wolves is always fun, and this gave me a chance to remind the Snowcrest wolves who ruled this territory.”
“As if they could forget.” Drake tossed Sylvan a T-shirt. She wouldn’t ordinarily have bothered, as Sylvan often went shirtless, and she always enjoyed the sight of her mate’s body, but considering they were about to enter the council meeting, Sylvan probably wouldn’t mind a little more formality. Besides, once the meeting adjourned, Sylvan would be out among the Pack. The Snowcrest females were young and impressionable, and Sylvan was hers, even for viewing. “You should keep that on while we’ve got visitors.”
Sylvan zipped her pants and raised an eyebrow. “Any specific reason?”
“At least one of those Snowcrest females is not so dominant she wouldn’t mind being on her back for a big powerful Alpha like you.”
Sylvan laughed. “You really just said that without smirking.”
“It was an effort. But seriously, there’s no need to torment them.”
Sylvan laughed again. “I can tell when you’re flattering me, you know. If you want more, all you need to do is ask.”
Drake tapped Sylvan’s chin. “Believe me, mate, when I want more, you’ll know it.”
“And what of the thrall hanging in the air I scented when I came in? Jody was broadcasting all over, and you were directly in her path.” Sylvan’s tone was light but her canines showed, and a growl rolled beneath her words.
“Ah, yes. Her hunger runs close to the surface this morning—but you did call a meeting when she’d ordinarily be feeding.”
“You felt it, then?” Sylvan’s question was casual but her jaw had grown heavy and a cascade of silver pelt rolled beneath her skin.
Drake grasped Sylvan’s T-shirt and yanked her close. She kissed her, deep and hard. “You are my mate. Jody Gates cannot call me, no matter how powerful she is or will become. You are foolish to think otherwise.”
Grumbling, Sylvan grazed her canines down Drake’s neck. “I would have you now if they weren’t waiting.”
“I’m ready.” Drake slid a hand beneath Sylvan’s shirt and caressed her stomach. “And I’ll be waiting.”
Sylvan rubbed her cheek against Drake’s, letting out a sigh that spelled contentment, one of the sounds Drake loved to hear from her, almost as much as she loved to hear the growl of satisfaction that came when she brought Sylvan to the edge and pushed her over. “Then we should go.”
“Yes,” Drake said.
Sylvan loosely clasped Drake’s nape as they walked into the main hall. The meeting area occupied the center of the building with windows on one side, a twenty-foot-tall stone fireplace at the end opposite the enormous paired doors, and a balcony running around the second level where Sylvan’s office and several other rooms were located. The ceiling soared fifty feet overhead. Oversized leather couches and chairs faced the hearth, although the bulk of those present were standing. A line of Jody’s personal guards stood with shouldered weapons, their backs to the shuttered windows. Per routine whenever a Vampire was present during daylight hours, the centuri, overseen by Niki, would have double-checked all the locks on the light-blocking shutters before Jody’s arrival. Her guards, however, would never rely on anyone else to ensure their Liege’s safety.
Jody lounged against the stone column that bordered the fireplace, a crystal goblet of smoky brandy in her hand. She caught Sylvan’s eye and lifted the glass in salute. “Alpha. Very nice.”
Sylvan grinned with the slightest show of canines. Predator to predator. “Breakfast?”
Jodi grinned back, a flash of incisors showing for a second above her pale lips. Her color was high, pink tingeing her translucent skin. She must’ve fed moments before arriving.
“Late dinner,” Jody said. “I hadn’t yet retired when I got your call.”
“I realize this is inconvenient for you, Liege Gates.”
Jody shrugged. “Another excuse to savor my consort. I have no complaints.”
“Then, my thanks for being here.” Sylvan turned from Jody, and nodded to Torren and her mate. “Lord Torren, I know it’s been a long journey and you’re anxious to be home, but something unexpected has arisen.”
Torren sat in an oversized leather chair to Sylvan’s left, with Misha, her young Were mate, draped across her lap. She swept a hand down Misha’s mahogany hair and rested her long, elegant hand on Misha’s shoulder. A large square sapphire gleamed on her left ring finger. “My lady and I are at your disposal, Alpha Mir, Prima.”
Formalities disposed of, Sylvan and Drake sat on the large sofa. Jody remained standing by the mantel. “As we were embarking at the airport,” Sylvan said, “the Snowcrest Alpha, Zora Constantine, approached me in private to request aid.”
Jody frowned. “Snowcrest. They’re Canadian, aren’t they?”
“Actually, no,” Sylvan said. “Their Pack descends from French-Canadian roots, but the bulk of their territory borders ours to the far north. They’re our buffer zone with the Canadian Razorbacks.”
“Who are mostly feral wolf Weres,” Misha put in.
Sylvan nodded to her former lieutenant. “Correct. The Razorback territory is vast, their numbers are small, and their society consists largely of lone wolves.”
Torren asked, “And these Snowcrest wolves? Who are they?”
“A small Pack that also occupies a large territory, spread out, as I said, adjoining our northern border on the southern side, the St. Lawrence River to their north, and the Great Lakes to the west. Most of the population occupies a mountain stronghold along the eastern border with Vermont, Cresthome.”
“I take it that young Alpha in the Compound yard is their leader?” Jody asked.
“A recent occurrence,” Sylvan sa
id. “Constantine assumed the mantle less than a year ago after surviving a number of challenges that divided the more senior members of the Pack.”
Drake frowned. “Isn’t ascension to Alpha usually determined by heredity or, if not, by proclaiming the heir while the ruling Alpha is still in power? Why wasn’t she challenged before she took the mantle?”
“Zora’s father, the previous Alpha, was not her father by blood, but he had declared her his heir.” Sylvan shook her head. “Not everyone in the Pack accepted that. Zora was found in the wild, having been raised by a pack of wolves, when she was three. After the Alpha’s death, some of the Weres declared her mutia and gave challenge.”
Misha gasped. “Abandoned? How could that have happened?”
“No one knows. The assumption is her mother might’ve lost her mate and possibly died in childbirth. Whatever, Zora was not entitled to lead based on blood, but she earned the right by sustaining the challenge.”
“So it’s not a question of rebellion that brings her here,” Drake said.
“No. In the last month, multiple raids along Snowcrest’s perimeter have resulted in the deaths of a number of their sentries and disruption of their trade routes to Canada. The Snowcrest wolves are traders. The deer, elk, and moose populations are without substantial predators throughout their territory. The Weres keep the numbers down to prevent starvation with frequent hunts and trade the pelts with merchants in Canada. Their economic losses have begun to mount up, but more importantly, the continued raids have brought Zora’s leadership into question.”
“Do they know who’s behind the incursions?” Jody asked.
“That’s part of the problem. They haven’t been able to locate any evidence that would help them identify the raiders. Snowcrest wolves are excellent trackers, but they’re not warriors. They’ve doubled their sentries, but they have no substantial army. Their lines of defense are thin and Constantine fears Cresthome is at risk.”
“What is it that they’ve asked?” Drake said.
“Zora Constantine has offered allegiance, including conscription rights, should we go to war and need more warriors. In return, we provide protection, including ferreting out these raiders.”
Niki, who’d remained silent until then, lounging against one wall, her arms folded across her chest, snorted. “As if the Snowcrest wolves would be of any use if it came to a fight.”
Drake suppressed a smile. Their general considered their warriors without parallel, and she couldn’t argue. The Timberwolf warriors had been bloodied enough to prove it. “A symbolic gesture, Niki, but one that solidifies an alliance for all concerned.”
“We would come to their aid regardless,” Niki grumbled.
“Indeed we would,” Drake said.
Torren let out a breath. “Does anything about the timing strike you as odd?”
Sylvan grimaced. “More than odd. I sense a trap. Snowcrest has never been the object of aggression before. Now, when so much is in flux, when our negotiations with the humans are at their most uncertain, when the Vampire nation”—she glanced at Jody—“has undergone recent change of leadership, a situation almost guaranteed to draw us into potential conflict arises on our border.”
“Not only that,” Drake pointed out, “but another Pack asks us for aid, and we can hardly refuse.”
“You distrust this Constantine?” Jody said flatly.
“I have no reason to,” Sylvan said, “but it must be considered. If not her, one of those close to her could be working against her.”
Niki stepped forward. “Then it’s time that we take a squad north and take care of these raiders.” Her eyes gleamed. “One way or the other, we’ll have our answer about Snowcrest.”
“There’s something else that occurs,” Torren said, “if I may theorize, Alpha.”
“Of course,” Sylvan said.
“I understand these Weres are trackers, and if they can’t even find a trail, that might suggest there is none.”
Misha stiffened. “A Gate? You think the raiders could be Fae?”
Torren stroked her arm. “Cecilia, Queen of Thorns and Ruler of Faerie, has been growing more powerful over the centuries—”
“And more unbalanced,” Misha said. “And she wants to make an example of you, Torren. You can’t—”
“I am not so easily ensnared, my lady love,” Torren said, a swirling aura of power encompassing the pair for a moment. Misha shivered and curled closer in Torren’s arms. “Except by you.”
“Your Hound just wants to hunt,” Misha said without heat.
“Always, my lady.” A bemused smile on her face, Torren glanced at Sylvan. “My services are yours for this venture.”
Sylvan nodded and turned to Jody. “While I hope this turns out to be purely a wolf matter, I will keep you informed.”
“Vampires don’t mind cold weather,” Jody said mildly. “It thickens the blood. Should you need reinforcements, my Vampires stand ready to honor our allegiance.”
“Then we are decided. I’ll advise Zora we’ll leave in the morning,” Sylvan said. “I trust that gives everyone time to complete their homecoming celebrations.”
Torren rose, her arm around Misha’s waist. “We shall be ready. By your leave, we’ll return home for now.”
Sylvan nodded, and Torren and Misha glided out.
Jody strode over and clasped Sylvan’s forearm in a firm, cool grip. “Be careful.”
“Always.”
Jody’s human servants converged around her, and they moved en masse toward the entrance.
“I’ll prepare our warriors, Alpha,” Niki asked. “A squad of twenty will allow us to move quickly but field a substantial force.”
“Agreed,” Sylvan said. “Leave half the centuri here with the Prima, however.”
Drake clasped Sylvan’s hand. “Would you give us a moment before marshaling your warriors, Imperator.”
Niki flicked a glance at Sylvan who said nothing. Nodding abruptly, she departed quickly.
Drake turned to Sylvan, her expression mildly quizzical. “You didn’t think to tell me any of this before now?”
Sylvan almost managed to look innocent. “I was rather busy. Homecoming activities.”
“Mm, I remember. There must’ve been a moment or two somewhere.”
Sylvan let out a sigh. “What would you have me do, Prima. We can’t leave the Pack leaderless.”
“I am aware of how tenuous the political situation is,” Drake said, “but we are deep in our own territory surrounded by the finest warriors, human or Praetern, in the world. How long do you expect this to take?”
Sylvan shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. If we come upon a trail, or a traitor, quickly, it could be a matter of days. If we haven’t made any progress in a week, I’ll leave a squad behind to patrol with the Snowcrest sentries.”
“A week then. And how long will it take us to return to the Compound? Hours?”
Sylvan’s canines flared and her jaw tightened, a faint dusting of silver spreading down her bare forearms. “You seek to corner me, Prima.”
Drake slid both arms around Sylvan’s waist, kissed her neck, and bit her deep enough to rouse her wolf. “I don’t need to corner you. You already know where I’m going.”
Sylvan sighed. “We’ll be five hours away by vehicle. Niki won’t like both of us being absent from the Compound, and we can’t field our forces without her.”
“I know, but she’ll just grumble a little louder.”
“True.” Sylvan slung an arm around Drake’s shoulders. “We’ll need to formalize a third.”
“Agreed. Callan or Max?”
“Callan is a soldier and needed with our warriors. Max.”
Drake nodded. “Agreed.”
“I’ll tell Niki,” Sylvan said, “and we’ll hold the ceremony tonight.”
“I have a stop to make too, but after that,” Drake said, sliding a hand under Sylvan’s shirt and caressing her, “join me in the den?”
Sylvan gripped h
er neck, pulled her close, and kissed her. “With pleasure.”
Chapter Seven
Drake followed the waves of distress she’d sensed while Sylvan was in the midst of the council meeting. Like Sylvan, she was psychically connected to every member of the Pack through her mate bond. The unique blending of hers and Sylvan’s genetic and neurophysical chemicals connected them to each other and the Pack. While she wasn’t as highly attuned as Sylvan to each member, especially at longer distances, she readily detected signals of pain, physical and emotional.
As much as every instinct drove her to protect and comfort her Pack member, she’d waited until Sylvan had completed the briefing. Hurrying now, Drake entered the auxiliary barracks where the centuri and upper level soldiers had their living quarters. Some mated Weres made their dens in the forest at the far extent of the Compound, as did she and Sylvan—far enough away for privacy, but an easy distance back to the fortified sections in case of attack. For the most part, however, the warriors who might be needed if an assault occurred lived in one of the barracks.
Like all the buildings within the Compound, this was an unadorned timber and stone rectangle with a center hallway, flanked by rooms with unmarked wooden doors and windows large enough for a wolf in pelt to use as an entrance—or quick exit.
Passing down the first-floor hall to the second-floor stairs, Drake identified Jace’s location from the currents of anger, frustration, and, unexpectedly, confusion, emanating from her room, but Jace wasn’t the Were who called to her. She bounded up to the second floor and knocked on the door to a suite overlooking the training area.
Andrea, a statuesque auburn-haired human, opened the door, her face registering surprise and embarrassment when she saw Drake. “Prima! Max isn’t here. Is there something I can help you with?”
“I thought there might be something I could help you with,” Drake said.
“Oh, of course.” Andrea flushed, ducking her head as she opened the door wide. “Please come in. I should’ve known there was no way to keep anything from a Were. Especially not you.” She shook her head. “Sylvan probably knows too, doesn’t she?”