Finally, the dim light of false dawn threatened to break. She inspected her handiwork in the light of this new day. His luxuriant coat was still horribly stained, lightened to a soft pinkish gray by her constant laving. His heartbeat was faint, and he remained motionless. But the bleeding had ceased. Each breach in his precious body had been mended. And he was alive. The battle was no longer in her hands. “Fight, Roth. You are a warrior, so fight your way back to me.”
She remained by his side even as two members of her pack arrived at her silent call. They glared at her, allowing their disgust at her cowardice to be fully displayed, but did her bidding nevertheless. She would face the wrath of her father later. Now she would have to turn Roth’s care over to his brother. That was the face deserving of Roth’s first glimpse. She said a silent prayer as she helped load his still body into the open cart her pack members had arrived with, praying that just this once God would answer the pleas of a damned soul. Please wake up, Roth. Your brother needs you. I need you.
Chapter 5:
The Union
Slumped over in the chair and smelling like something had crawled into his shirt and died, Aiden struggled to keep his eyes open. Realizing that the time span between each self-inflicted, forceful shake had vastly diminished, been overtaken by the time he spent unintentionally dozing, he finally pushed up from the chair. Sitting was getting him nothing but a quick invitation through the yawning doors to the land of dreams. He ran his hand over his fatigued face and blew out a breath of exasperation. The action did nothing to console him. Three days’ worth of hair scraped against his palms, and the odor from beneath his unwashed armpits was overpowering.
He turned his attention back to his still patient on the bed. Nestled against plain-white sheet and pillow casing, Roth’s healthy coat should have been a striking contradiction to the background. But he was still much too pale. It had been three long, exhausting days since his arrival, yet nothing had changed.
When Tienna had turned up on his doorstep just past daybreak, leading two antagonistic men who carried a precious burden, he had been plunged into another dark, scorching hell. He had not only killed his brother, but he had left his body lying in an open field for the feeding of buzzards. The sins of a single night had added up at such an alarming rate, everything else in his life seemed like he’d been as innocent as a green-eared virgin. He had taken his brother’s still wolf form into his arms with a broken utterance of gratitude. But then Tienna had said something that had lit the dank corners of his personal hell into a bright, warm paradise. Roth was alive.
The first question that had popped into his mind after a heartfelt thank-you sent to God and every other divine being had been How? Tienna’s emerald eyes, jeweled further with diamond-studded teardrops, had blinked just once before she’d turned and fled. He’d stood at the open doorway of his opulent Grosvenor Square town house with his brother, who was supposed to be dead by his hand, in his arms, and watched the angel who’d brought him back fly away, once again beyond his reach. Her flee had been punctuated by the growls of her companions before they also beat a hasty retreat. And since then, nothing.
Tienna had not come back. She threw a wall up against any communication he had tried to form with her in her mind. He hadn’t the freedom to hunt her down due to his responsibility that tied him to his house. But for a person miraculously brought back from the grips of death, Roth had yet to stir.
The first day, he bathed his brother’s luxurious coat, stained as deeply as his own soul, until the fur had been once again transformed into the prolific sheen that could have rivaled even the brushed down coat of a prized gray. Yet while he had restored Roth’s mighty appearance to its former glory and dignity, the hue of meek, weak stillness tainted his aura. But that had come after he stood and simply stared at Roth in shock. The open wounds were still evident, but in the form of scars—fully sealed. Not a trace of blood seeped into his white sheets. How was that possible?
He had lingered the rest of the day by his brother’s side and the night that had followed, fending off sleep while dribbling wine infused with his own blood down Roth’s throat with a teaspoon. His brother needed nutrition, and blood offered more than anything else ever could from this world. The second day had passed with the repeat of the ritual bathing and endless waiting. And yet again there had been no satisfaction for his efforts beyond the warm breath he frequently tested for behind Roth’s bone-dry nostrils.
Then he’d reached the afternoon of the third day, and finally there’d been a change in Roth. Sadly, it had not been a noticeable improvement in his condition. The wolf form had simply melted away, leaving in its wake Roth’s dark, naked human profile. Aiden had remained by his side after throwing a sheet liberally over the now scorching body, expecting him to open his eyes anytime. That anytime, however, had elapsed into one hour and then another until the sun had sunk so far west it had left his world in shadows. There had been no further development, at least nothing with regard to Roth.
He, however, was not faring very well. The strain he’d placed on his body was taking its toll. His stomach rumbled like thunderous clouds for fresh, warm flesh, his shrunken veins screamed their thirst for even a droplet of sustaining blood, and sleep threatened each blink of his eyes. Furthermore, while he had paid careful attention to bathing Roth’s body, keeping him infection free, he had afforded little consideration to his own. He stank so badly it was a miracle on its own that Roth did not rise simply on the pungent, offensive fumes he emanated.
The excitement of this miracle had long since worn off. The questions he held had faded into the void that now occupied his mind. The only thing he kept chanting over and over, like a mantra echoing in an empty chamber, was “Roth, please wake up.” But Roth did not respond, and neither did the Gods. There would be no escaping this sin. His brother was not going to suddenly recover. He turned and eyed the decanter carefully laid on a table at Roth’s bedside. Perhaps he should increase the blood portion to the potion.
As his canines exposed themselves beneath his upper lip, ready to slit another gash in his already scarred forearm, he detected movement. It was just a slight flutter of eyelids, but his heightened wolf sense caught it as easily it would a stomping elephant.
“Roth?” He shook him gently. No answer. His shakes became less tender.
Suddenly Roth’s eyes popped open so fast Aiden stumbled back in shock. His eyes glowered dangerous amber, and his voice was hoarse from disuse. “You killed me.”
Aiden peered at him cautiously, wondering if this was Roth’s ghost, come to haunt him for his sins. Goblins and ghouls could never be discounted when one kept company with the devil. “Obviously not very successfully.”
Roth bit out in a scratchy tone. “The fact that I am not dead doesn’t change your crime.”
It certainly does to me. “Would you like for me to give it another go?” he joked even as relief surged through him. He was part beast already, but he’d kept himself from turning into a monster by remaining a gentleman and by never taking life. The possibility that he had killed his own brother would have damned what little was left of his cursed soul.
Roth struggled to sit up, and for some odd reason, even after having nursed him as delicately as a mother to a newborn babe, Aiden now felt uncomfortable. Besides, Roth could still tear his throat out should he get too close. “There’s wine.” He gestured to the side table while keeping his distance.
Amazingly, Roth reached for the ruby-stained glass and drained it as easily as though he’d just risen from a night’s sleep instead of the dead.
“How?” Aiden’s voice broke. He cleared his throat and tried again. “How is this possible?”
A dark, slender brow raised a notch as Roth smiled slyly. “Sorry to disappoint your efforts, brother, but Tienna obviously was not willing to accept your decree.”
“I didn’t kill you on purpose, and well you know it.”
“An accident would have been if I had run into your sharpen
ed claws. If I recall correctly, they came after me.”
They had. What was the point in quibbling? Bloodshed was life spilt. What did the miniscule details matter in view of the overall picture? With fingers curling in a futile endeavor to hide his shame, Aiden tried to explain the feeling that had come over him that fateful moment. “Someone touched her. An odious presence had sought to trespass upon what was my property. The rage gripped me within such a fierce hold that I simply reacted. The blow was indeed intentional but not meant for you.”
Silence greeted his statement, and just as Aiden was contemplating offering an apology, Roth sighed. “Yes, I am aware. In that very last instant I myself was gripped with that consuming fury.” He settled back against the pillows, but thankfully he looked more colored, alive. “Who was that cad? I want to rip out his heart for his audacity.”
“I took care of him.” The rule that dictated over them did not differ greatly from that of man. The severity of the punishment did, however. In the world where primal instincts ran high, vengeance was the only solution. No man or beast could stop a slighted wolf. An eye for an eye, blood for blood. He should have killed the bastard.
Roth nodded in silent acceptance. “She didn’t let me go, you know.”
Aiden stiffened. He wanted to know how this miracle was possible, but the implications attached were damning to say the least. Roth had been brought back by Tienna herself, and while he was glad to have his brother back, or being let loose of the guilt anyway, he was not sure he wanted to hear about Tienna’s ardent desire not to let Roth go.
Roth, odious bastard that he was, seemed intent on filling in all the gory details. “Even as I felt the tug of death so great and had submitted myself to its beckoning, she clung on. She refused to surrender her hold on me. Each gentle, determined swipe of her tongue against my wounds was like a lover’s moan of ecstasy. I rode that tide of passion she provided until it finally delivered me once more into the light. The result was far more intimate, more powerful than any orgasm. Tienna became a part of me and I a part of her.”
Without warning, jealousy descended over Aiden like a dark, ominous cloak and welcomed him into the heat of seething rage. He bit down on his own tongue. The coppery flavor only served to inflame his beast more. But as reckless as the conflict was within him, he refused to show his reaction on the surface and hid behind a gentlemanly facade. Roth had every right to gloat, while he deserved every manner of hurtful goading. It was little torment compared to the loss of Roth by his hand. He voice was rugged and broken. “You can have Tienna.” Every pore within him raged against that statement, but honor dictated he make it.
Roth eyed him with a cunning smile. “I believe I also heard mention of replacing me in hell. Now that I have returned, when will you depart to take my place?”
Had Roth heard all his pitiful pleas? By the smug expression he wore on his face, he believed he had. Bloody hell. “I am neither coward nor brave enough to seek out my own death, but I will honor the vow to leave. I took an oath over your spilled blood and accept the decree as binding.”
If he expected Roth to be merciful, he would have been wrong. His ruthlessness cut right to the bone. “Capital idea. I bid you adieu,” he added in a contrite voice. “It is for the best, you know.”
Aiden grunted as he turned his back on his brother. His brother’s expression was anything but contrite. Why, he looked positively gleeful. Roth was a treacherous bandit. He would take what he wanted on whatever terms he could get it. Did it matter that his panicked oath was made under duress? And even more insane, for the saving of his life? Apparently not. Some words could not be recalled just as some actions could not be undone. He had inflicted his brother’s wounds that had almost led to his demise, and he would honor the utterances he’d made in desperation.
He did not mind a contest for her hand with anyone else but Roth. How often did Tienna plan on pitting the brothers against each other? He was no fool. He knew that it had been a callous plot made by her to begin with. But would the outcome of the next attack be too fatal to reverse?
Besides that, Roth was right. Tienna was better off without him. She had battled hard by the sounds of it to bring Roth back, while she was already avoiding him. Who could say his hands would not one day be stained with her blood? Perhaps she already understood the risk he rendered, a threat to her very life. It was not a chance he was willing to take. He had no choice but to leave.
* * * *
Tienna could hardly quell her excitement as she stepped into the clearing. At first she had been too ashamed to communicate with Aiden. He had every right to be angry with her. Her only defense was that she did not know that they were brothers before pitting them against each other. And then the heat of her shame had cooled into a bone-chilling, terrifying fear. She did not want to hear that she had been unsuccessful, that Roth was lost.
But his strong, compelling voice had drifted to her on a night after a much too long wait. She had accomplished little in the days she had waited. To be honest, the only constructive thing she had done was demand Matthew’s immediate removal from the pack. At least in that quarter she had been successful. Her father was many things, but he was fair when it came to honor. Matthew had no right in interfering. And while he had bowed to her wish on the matter, he had not taken the news of her heroic rescue well. Christian Hawthorne Sterling had been livid. She, coward that she’d turned, had been avoiding him like the plague.
Roth appeared before her every bit as glorious as the first night she had seen him. She studied his body anxiously, seeking some sign of weakness. There was none. He looked all dangerous and powerful, cloaked in the darkness of the devil in a well-tailored coat and snug pants, hair wildly abandoned, and the wicked leather of his boots and belt beckoning in the soft moonlight. But what caught and held her attention, between loose, flapping collars and the expanse of delicious, tanned skin displayed beneath, was the sly, sinfully decadent grin perched upon his face. “Oh, Roth, I’ve been ever so worried.” She flew into his arms and rejoiced in his healthy, rumbling laughter. It was a pure symphony of music and magic to her ears.
Roth had to practically pry her away from his chest. The stars lit in his eyes and danced with revelry. “I take it you have missed me.”
Tienna cuffed him lightly on the arm. “I simply wished to see if my healing powers worked. I had grave fear that I’d turned you into a toad.”
His eyes sprung wide open in mock exaggeration. “You have not seen me beneath my shirt and vest, warts and all, I tell you.”
Tienna giggled a sound strangely foreign yet welcome to her ears as she leaned back into his chest. She simply wanted to feel his heart beating against her flesh. The wait had been agonizing. A soft sigh escaped her lips as his arms folded possessively around her. She was grateful for the support. Relief warred with hope and, shadowed by fear, strummed through her.
They were brothers. Surely now that death had been merciful to Roth she could work on getting them reunited. Before she had believed them enemies, but blood was blood, and she had to make them see that. She would.
She succumbed easily as his hand lifted her chin for his hungry kiss. He plied her with such compelling ministrations that Tienna felt the heat simmer and boil over within her immediately. His exploring hand on her back was spreading that heat. This was so incredible. It was a brewing storm. It was miraculous.
She drove her fingers through his hair, recklessly pouring all her relief into his mouth. The despair and anxiety flowed out of her as she tasted him fully. He was hot and so very much alive. He accepted everything she offered, greedily lapping at her frantic, thrusting tongue. She wanted to simply gobble him up whole, consume him so he would never leave her again.
A tension of another kind blasted against her back. Through her quickly shattering emotions, she vaguely accepted the onslaught. It took a while before she realized that something was different this time. The intensity was definitely evident, but it lacked the driving fury that usu
ally fueled it. Absently she nipped at Roth’s lips. Where is Aiden?
Surely he should have stormed through the bush like a small hurricane, given the ferocity with which she kissed Roth. But while she felt Aiden’s angered presence, it was not advancing. If anything, it was receding. Her eyes sprung open, barely registering Roth’s hot lips traveling down her neck. She had to test her suspicion. Frowning at Roth’s much too slow progress, she grabbed both his hands and crushed them over her breasts. His eyes flared with appreciation before darkening into the welcome murky swirl of storm waters. Her body arched against his hands as he squeezed and weighed the orbs through the thin house dress she wore. Her nipples puckered, scraping against his palms, begging for a more intimate touch. He did not disappoint. His finger twirled and rolled her erect tips deftly until heat pooled between her legs and dampened her underwear.
Tienna pressed into him urgently. His buttons sank in harshly against her flesh. She needed his fingers where she burned the most. She needed his cock there. Suddenly she felt the blast of malevolence again. She coaxed Roth further. Aiden was reacting but not in his usual bluster. Why was he not coming to her?
Momentarily disorientated, she drew back. Shame mingled with her desperation. Did he suspect she was setting another trap? Had he left because he was disgusted with her machinations? She could not accept that. She wanted him here as well.
She blinked up at Roth’s fierce, lust-ravaged expression. How could she tell him she wanted his brother as well? How could she admit that he was not enough for her, that neither of them would be unless combined? Had she just been reunited with one, only to lose the other? This could not be. She refused to accept it. With all the longing in her heart, the lust of her raging body, she called out to him, “Aiden.”
From a distance much too far away, he relayed in a quiet voice, “Good-bye, Tienna.”
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