by Лори Девоти
Risk stared blankly at the scene in front of him, one word echoing through his brain. Father?
As Bader twisted a dial on the box, pulling the chain around the younger hound’s neck taut, Lusse turned a blinding smile on Risk. “Oh, I forgot. You haven’t been introduced, have you? Risk, this—” she gestured to the youth “—is your son. Venge, this is the father I’ve told you so much about.”
The younger male, his eyes focused on a spot somewhere behind Lusse, didn’t acknowledge Risk or the old servant Bader, who rose on his tiptoes in an effort to control the surging energy and bring the youth to his knees.
Seeing her servant’s ungraceful position, Lusse’s eyes flashed, a spark of cream in her naturally dark color. Briefly, Risk wondered what the true color of her power was to someone not hampered by the colorblindness of a hound. Not the pure violet of Kara’s eyes. That was certain.
“Bader,” Lusse bit out the name, then with an impatient toss of her head, held her closed fist, palm up, toward him and the other male.
“No.” Risk’s order broke through the tense scene like a hammer through glass.
Lusse paused, tilting her head toward him. A slow lethal smile transformed her. “What, Risk? You object to a little discipline?” She wandered toward him, her uncurled hand trailing over tabletops and chair backs as she came. Circling him, nails rasping over the bare skin of his shoulders and chest, she continued, “A show of fatherly love, perhaps?” Reaching his back, she stopped and leaned forward until her cold breath puffed against his neck.
Realizing his mistake, Risk stared ahead. Lusse said the other male was his son, but she’d offered no proof, and even if what she said was true, what did it matter to Risk? It didn’t change his reality, his goal — to defeat Lusse.
“What? Cat got your tongue?” Lusse giggled, a sound as different from Kara’s feminine laugh as the hiss of a cobra from the coo of a dove.
“He is yours, you know. Same strong shoulders…” Lusse’s hands cupped Risk’s. “Same solid chest…” Her hands slipped lower, her palms rubbing his chest, her breasts pressed against his back. “Same delectable taste.” Her tongue flicked out, lapping at his neck.
Risk contained the urge to toss her across the room, to hear her spine snap as her body collided with a wall.
“Same stubborn disposition…” In one fluid movement, she held out her fist and uncurled her fingers. Power arched from her outstretched hand, hitting the chain on the younger male’s neck. The surging power raced around the silver links encircling the youth’s neck before merging with the line of energy pulsing from the metal box still clasped in Bader’s fist.
Bader watched, eyes rounding as the combined force raced toward him. As it hit, his body thrashed like a sheet caught in the wind. Lusse smiled, her free hand still stroking Risk’s back.
The younger male grabbed at his throat, attempting to yank the chain from his neck, his eyes squeezed shut in an obvious effort to ignore the pain arching through him. One knee buckled, and he threw out his arm, grabbing the wall beside him for support. His body jerked, the power popping and snapping as it continued to flow from Lusse to the collar and into him. Still vibrating against the surging energy, he raised his eyelids and glowered at Lusse and Risk.
With a bored sigh, Lusse muttered against Risk’s ear, “See, obstinate.” Standing, she yelled, “Enough.” Then, holding out both arms, let loose another stream of magic.
The thick scent of the youth’s fury clouded the air.
Risk tensed, the desire to turn on Lusse even stronger than before. How long could the boy survive such force? Risk had survived worse, but this hound was young, not possessed of his full strength yet. Would Lusse kill him to make a point?
The beast inside Risk growled, eager to break out and turn Lusse’s torture into a real fight — one, bound as he was by her magic, Risk was sure to lose. But, a growing voice inside him murmured, if the reward was just a few drops of Lusse’s blood it would be well worth any price.
As the fire in his soul began to grow, his fingers curved into his palms. Change. Change. Change, the hound within him chanted.
The younger male pitched forward, both knees giving out at once, only the stream of energy flowing from Lusse stopping him from landing on the floor.
“At last,” Lusse muttered. Flicking her wrists, she sent one more surge of magic into the chain, then apparently satisfied her message had been sent, dropped her arms.
Both Bader and the youth fell to the floor with a disturbing thump.
Risk took a deep breath, attempting to calm the unsatisfied animal inside him. Keep with the plan. Saving the girl was the only way to hurt Lusse.
Except…His gaze wandered to the near-comatose youth.
“So, Daddy, what do you think of your son? Is he everything you hoped for?” Lusse strolled to the younger male, picking up her long skirt to step over an unconscious Bader on the way.
“I don’t have a son,” Risk replied, turning a now cool gaze on Lusse.
“Oh, but you do.” Lusse placed the sole of her shoe on the boy’s back. “Big, beautiful and brazen — he’s definitely yours. Don’t tell me you don’t even remember? How sad.”
The youth raised his eyelids, his gaze simmering with impotent fury.
At Risk or Lusse?
“Poor Venge. His daddy won’t claim him.” Lusse knelt beside the youth, then reached out to draw circles on his sweat-dampened back.
Snapping her gaze back to Risk, she continued, “Such a special night. So full of promise. Don’t you remember? The battles, the bloodlust? The weeks of training to get you to the point where you would lose control, to give yourself over to the power of the Hunt. It cost me six strong hounds, but it was worth it just to witness the completeness of your Change.” She hugged herself, her fingers dancing up her arms in a shiver of joy.
The completeness of his Change, Risk’s mind repeated. Yes, he remembered.
“But…” he began.
“Oh, that’s right. How could I forget?” Lusse brushed a lock of hair out of the pup’s face. “He thinks he killed your mother. He almost did. Tore her throat so thoroughly, she barely lasted long enough to deliver.” She glanced back at Risk. “But, you see, she made it — for a while anyway. Long enough for what I needed from her.” Lusse’s hand brushed the length of the younger male’s back. “Look closely, smell him. You’ll recognize the truth.”
Risk’s mind traveled back — to the time he most wished he could forget. Lusse had starved him for weeks; used every toy she could devise to break him; locked him in with a pack of rogue males all intent on winning the spot of leader, and not caring if there was any pack left to lead. Then she had chained him to a wall in her torture chambers and pumped every drop of anger and fear she could extract from her victims into his face. There was no escaping it. By the time she had unloosed him and tossed the bitch in heat into his cell, he was lost. There was nothing human left — nothing but animal.
He’d torn into the female, mounting her even as his teeth had sunk into her neck, ripping through fur and skin. The metallic tang of her blood only adding to his pleasure, he’d forgotten everything except the heady sensations of sex, blood and finally death. Or so he had thought. After, when he had calmed and was back in his human form, Bader had come in to drag the bitch’s lifeless form from the room.
Lusse had rewarded him by announcing his new position as pack alpha, but Lusse’s ploy, instead of committing Risk to his demon half, had done the opposite. Memories of that night filled him with self-loathing, feeding his need to contain his true nature.
He had refused Lusse’s position, instead accepting the torture that came with defying her. She had tried many times since to force him back to that place, but had never managed to push him that far.
And now Lusse was telling him the male in front of him was the product of that gruesome night.
“Still don’t believe me? Risk, your lack of trust is so disturbing. Come closer.” Lusse gestured
with one hand.
But Risk didn’t need to move closer, didn’t trust himself nearer the witch. Instead, he closed his eyes and put faith in his senses. At first he smelled nothing more than hound — male hound, too close. Kill. Kill, his instincts yelled. In his hound form, Risk’s hackles would have raised and his lips would have twisted into a snarl, but as a human, he was able to tamp these reactions down, his nostrils flaring the only visible response to the scent of a potential challenger so close.
Kill. Risk sat still, his hands fisted at his sides, waiting for the impulse to lunge toward the other male to subside. When he was confident of his control, he inhaled again, delving deeper into the scent.
Anger. And pain, but not just physical…Risk frowned. Emotional pain was a human tendency, not something natural to a hellhound. A human weakness, Lusse would say. The type of weakness she accused Risk of having…
Damn. Could it be true? Then hidden under layers of anger, hurt and testosterone, he found it, his scent — Risk’s scent. Not exact, of course, but close — too close to deny.
The boy was his.
At the realization, his eyes opened.
“Ah, you see it now, don’t you?” Lusse grinned, her hands clasped in front of her like a schoolgirl being presented with an unexpected gift.
Yes, he saw it. He had done the one thing he had sworn he would never do — condemned another hound to a life of hell serving Lusse. He could imagine Lusse bent over the boy’s crib — if she’d allowed him that luxury — while she clipped the silver collar of her control around his neck. His mother dead, his father already trapped in bondage to the witch, leaving no one to stop her.
“So, are you proud of your little boy, Risk? He shows a lot of promise, you know. Not as strong as his father, but I suppose with the right training…” she pulled the gem-covered glove she’d used on Risk earlier from her pocket “…he might earn his keep. Or perhaps father more hounds, eventually I’d have to get at least one whelp without those annoying human sensibilities.” She knelt down, resting her gloved hand lightly on the younger male’s back.
“So, what did you say happened with the witch I sent you to retrieve?”
5
Kara sat back on her heels, staring at just a few of the strange objects her sister had tucked inside an innocuous-looking rubber tub: a small statue of a woman draped in some kind of winged cloak, a silk bag filled with polished stones, and most disturbing, a very sharp, polished dagger with a bone handle.
Setting the knife carefully onto the ground beside her, Kara sighed. What had Kelly gotten herself involved in? She reached into the tub again, this time pulling out a rough cloth. A nub of white chalk fell from its folded length and plinked onto the cement floor of their shared basement. Kara’s gaze followed as it rolled to a stop.
Well, that probably explained this, anyway. Kara stood up to retrieve the chalk then wandered to a space to the right of the stairs where the faint outline of a circle showed on the dusty floor.
Plopping down onto the cold concrete, Kara absently traced over the circle while her mind flitted back over the past few days.
After Risk had disappeared, Kara escaped the cabin — through the window. The door wouldn’t budge even though she’d seen no sign of a lock, and there were no other exits. Made her wonder how she had got into the cabin in the first place, but with everything else swirling through her head, she hadn’t wasted much time worrying over the trivial. She’d squirmed out the opening, and scurried to a small lean-to she’d found behind the house. Inside she’d found a Jeep with the keys conveniently in the ignition. Even though the vehicle had to be almost twenty years old, it had started without so much as a hiccup.
Not pausing to analyze her sudden change in luck, Kara had sped away, taking the only road she could — the one that dead-ended at the cabin. After an hour of bumping down the rutted dirt road, she’d finally hit pavement and a choice — left or right. Still having no clue where she was, she’d picked using pure instinct. As it turned out, her gut had served her well. Twenty minutes later she’d been back in familiar territory. Which, if she was allowing herself to analyze any of this too carefully, would be disturbing, since she had visited the gas station she found herself at many times last summer when she and Kelly had gone hiking, but she couldn’t remember ever seeing the road that led to Risk’s cabin.
Just an example of how little attention she paid to what was going on around her. A habit she was beginning to think she needed to break.
She paused for a moment, dusting the white chalk on her hand onto the leg of her jeans.
She’d escaped Risk’s cabin, but not the questions that had continued to pile up around her. Who was Risk? How had she wound up with him and what had happened to him last night? In under twenty-four hours she had seen, or thought she had seen, two very large living beings disappear right in front of her eyes.
The dog was one thing. She’d been near hysteria at the time. She could easily have imagined that — but Risk?
She dropped the chalk and stared blindly at the white line she had traced. Shouldn’t she be calling the police or something? He was missing.
She pressed a damp palm to her forehead. She could imagine the conversation. “This is Kara Shane, the woman who has been harassing you about her missing sister. I’d like to report a missing man now. No, don’t know his full name. No, don’t know his address, but I have his Jeep. Oh, and how do I know he’s missing? He kind of just evaporated in front of me.”
Yeah, that would work. She picked the chalk up and dotted it against the ground, leaving little white specks on the floor.
But he was missing, and for some reason, Kara felt responsible. She had to look for him, didn’t she? She glanced down at the nub of chalk in her hand, then at the almost complete circle.
Finish what you start, Kara. First, she’d find Kelly. Then she’d look for Risk.
With new determination, she dropped the chalk and strode back to the rubber bin. As disturbing as her sister’s belongings were, they were also the only hope Kara had of learning what might have happened to her. Even if the next thing she pulled out was a shriveled head, she was going to sift through every single strange object.
As her hand dropped back into the bin, her gaze drifted over to the almost-closed circle. Finish what you start. Nothing like a little symbolic gesture to put her on the right track. With a determined nod of her head, she strode back to the discarded chalk, and prepared to finish at least one thing today.
Risk stared at the sparkling gems on Lusse’s glove. Would the sadistic witch use it on the boy? Boy. Risk shifted his gaze to the semiconscious male lying at Lusse’s side. Risk’s son, and no boy. No, he was a man — almost twenty years old if Risk’s memory was right.
Old enough to be starting life as an adult. Moving away from his family and starting one of his own. Or training in one of the few career choices open to free hellhounds…or, something Risk had often dreamed of, mingling with humans and carving out a life for himself there.
Old enough for any of that, but far too young to be lying here on Lusse’s fine wool rug, bleeding and beaten.
“So, Risk, where is my witch?” Lusse twisted her hand so the light caught a ruby-tinted jewel releasing a crimson blaze.
Tell her you lost her. Stick with the plan. Forget the boy — son or not, he’s nothing to you.
Lusse stared back at him, one gem-covered finger tapping against the boy’s back.
“I told you. There were…complications.” Risk kept his gaze focused on Lusse’s eyes and away from his son.
“Complications?” Lusse pushed one finger into Venge’s back. The glove sizzled to life. The muscles of Venge’s back twitched, and the line of his jaw tightened.
Damn Lusse. What would she do to the youth if Risk didn’t deliver Kara?
“Yes, complications…” Risk began.
Lusse let a second finger drop, the pressure light, but her intention clear.
“But…” Risk conti
nued. “Nothing I can’t deal with.”
“Of course. I have complete faith in you.” Lusse curled her fingers toward her palm, breaking all contact with Venge’s back. “I would, just out of curiosity you understand, like to know what exactly constitutes a complication.”
Risk paused. Sunlight caught on the gemmed glove, sending a sprinkling of rainbows dancing across the room. A cold thread of dread uncoiled in Risk’s stomach. If he didn’t give up Kara or a believable reason why he wasn’t, his son would suffer for it. Risk had already doomed the boy to a childhood of suffering. How could Risk, by his actions, sentence Venge to more?
“She has a twin.” Risk let the words lie there, knowing Lusse would realize the importance of what this meant.
“A twin?” She stood up, peeling the glove from her hand as she stepped around the prone Venge. “That is wonderful news. Was there a problem? Did they learn of your coming?”
“No, not that. It’s more complicated. The sister. She’s missing.” As the words fell from his lips, Risk’s mind whirled ahead. All wasn’t lost. Maybe he could still work the situation. Buy time.
“Missing? She ran off?” Lusse frowned.
“No, I don’t think so. I think she’s been taken.”
“Dead?” Lusse twisted her lips to the side.
“Not according to Ka — the witch you sent me to retrieve.”
A flicker of suspicion passed over Lusse’s face at his slip, but Risk hardened his gaze and continued. “I knew you would want both, but to find the sister I need the help and trust of the first. That’s what I was working on when you called.”
“Building trust?” Lusse cocked her head. “And how, my alpha, do you go about doing that?”
Risk stared at her, his gaze cool, knowing.
She laughed. A sensual smile tipping her lips, she stepped closer. “A little mortal witch. How could she resist all this?”