by Raand, L. L.
I grow impatient.
Forgive me, Regent. I am on my way.
She worked her way through the crowd of Vampires, humans, and Weres, past the security doors, and down the winding stone staircase into Francesca’s lair. When she knocked at the door to Francesca’s sitting room, the sultry voice called, “Come in, darling. Come in.”
Michel feigned nonchalance as she entered and took in the gathering.
Francesca lounged on her blue velvet sofa in one of her gossamer dressing gowns that revealed everything while reminding the observer they must have permission to touch. Her nipples blushed a deep rose, her full breasts gleamed with creamy splendor, and the dark triangle between her thighs beckoned with the promise of untold pleasure. Francesca had fed already and her unleashed sexual thrall choked the room. Charles, in full court regalia, stood at her left side and Bernardo, bare chested in leather pants, at her right. Both men displayed prodigious erections. Francesca had obviously not allowed them the privilege of answering her sexual invitation.
Michel bowed her head but kept her gaze fixed on Francesca’s amused face. “Regent.”
Francesca’s smile widened. “You remember Bernardo.”
“Yes,” Michel said, not looking at the Were.
“You’ve been…so busy lately, I haven’t had a chance to tell you of some of my new plans.”
“My apologies, Regent.”
Francesca waved a hand as if it were no matter. “Well, I’ve always enjoyed history.” Her incisors glistened as she laughed lightly. “Especially having lived it all.” She reached up and stroked Bernardo’s flank, letting her fingertips graze over the fullness along his thigh. “And I think it’s time we had our own army again, don’t you?”
If I might speak with you in private, Regent, Michel said silently.
You disapprove?
If we raise our own army, Sylvan will see it as a challenge. So will every other Vampire seethe in your Dominion.
Yes, I expect they will. But I prefer an alliance with a wolf I can control, and we cannot survive in this new order of things without expendable fighters.
Even if it means a war we might lose?
Our alliance with the humans may prove useful in adding to our strength. And we’re not without leverage against Sylvan.
Leverage?
“Oh, I grow careless.” Francesca glided to Michel and slipped her arm through Michel’s. Her fragrance enveloped Michel in a seductive cloud that fired her hunger. “Come, let me show you what I mean.”
Chapter Twenty-three
“I have a meeting,” Drake told Tomas, the senior soldier in charge in Callan’s absence, when she arrived at headquarters. “If you need me, I’ll be in Sylvan’s office.”
“Yes, Prima.”
Staying behind, waiting while Sylvan fought, was a thousand times harder than being in battle herself. Even if all went well, Sylvan wouldn’t be able to call her until after all was secured. Once Sylvan was near, their mate bond would let her know if she was seriously injured, but she was too far away still. If Sylvan was wounded in battle, Niki would call, and if both fell, one of the centuri or Callan would inform her. And thinking about it was not going to change what happened. Other work needed to be done, and other battles would need to be fought. As Drake strode into the great hall, Sophia and her father both jumped to their feet.
“Prima,” Leo said, bowing his head for an instant.
“Leo.” Drake clasped his shoulders. “Thank you for coming at such short notice.”
“Of course.” He smiled, but his eyes were filled with questions. Although he looked only a few years older than his daughter, trim and strong, with thick blond hair and brilliant blue eyes, faint strain lines creased the corners of his eyes. He glanced at Sophia, love and worry in his gaze.
Drake knew now, in a way she never had before, that a parent’s love for their child never ended, even when their young were far beyond the point where they could be shielded from danger. The desire to protect never ended. She sympathized with him, knowing more than anyone else what his worries might be. That’s why she’d called him here. They shared some of the same fears, and time was not on their side.
“Let’s talk upstairs.” She led them to Sylvan’s office and waited while they took seats in the chairs across from Sylvan’s desk. She didn’t sit behind it—that was Sylvan’s province—but stood with her hand on the back of Sylvan’s chair. The heat of her mate’s body seemed to linger there, and she pressed her palm closer.
“The days ahead will likely be challenging and some things can’t wait,” Drake said. “We can’t pretend what is happening in the world outside our borders will not eventually affect us.” She met Sophia’s anxious gaze. “It already has.”
Leo nodded. “Those who criticized the Exodus were wrong in thinking we would be safe if we continued to hide. If we cut ourselves off from those who seek to destroy us, they will only gain in power, and we will not recognize the enemy when we face it. Our visibility must become our strength.”
“Only you and your mates can know of what we discuss today,” Drake said.
“Yes, Prima,” Sophia and Leo replied.
“I believe the genetic transformation that allowed us”—Drake came around the desk and took Sophia’s hand—“to become Were is substantially different than the mutant viruses that produce Were fever in nature. We need to know what those differences are and how they may be expressed in us.”
Sophia drew a shaky breath. “Until now, I let myself believe that whatever I am—”
“You are a Were,” her father growled. When protecting their young, every wolf was an Alpha. “And you are strong and healthy.”
“Let me finish this,” Sophia whispered, grasping her father’s arm. “I never wanted to know because I was afraid of what you might find. I was afraid that what was inside me was dangerous, and if I only stayed far enough away from everyone, I could never hurt them. I let myself believe there was no reason to care. But now, there is.” She looked at Drake. “You have a mate, and the most beautiful young any of us have ever seen. I want that. I want Niki to have that.”
Drake crouched in front of Sophia and rested both hands on her thighs. Her wolf crept closer, touching Sophia’s where she watched uneasily from the shadows. “Do you trust the Alpha?”
“Completely,” Sophia said.
“So do I. She says she would know if you or I were in danger of causing anyone harm.” Drake stood. “But we must know what our enemies are trying to do so we can protect our children and their children to come—and some of those answers are inside us.”
“Some of the genetic changes may not show up for generations,” Leo said, his tone reluctant.
“We can’t know if the changes will be positive or not without further study,” Drake said, thinking about her own recent injuries and the way she had recovered. “It’s possible some of these alterations may enhance our abilities. Not just for Sophia and me, but perhaps for all of us.”
“We need new samples from both of you.” Leo hesitated. “And your young.”
Drake smiled and held out two small vials with white labels. “Neither of them cried, although Kira did show her teeth.”
Sophia laughed. “An Alpha born.”
“Yes,” Drake said. “Take our blood samples, sequence the mitochondrial DNA. Map any similarities or dissimilarities to control specimens from born Weres. Start there, let me know what you find.”
Leo took the specimens and placed them in his pocket. “We’ll start immediately.”
“Thank you,” Drake said.
Sophia rose with her father and kissed his cheek. “I’ll meet you in the infirmary in a minute and you can get my sample.”
Leo stroked her face. “Good.”
Sophia watched her father leave, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. For her to outwardly demonstrate her uneasiness was unusual, and could only be from worry over Niki.
Drake slipped an arm around her waist. “I hav
en’t heard from them yet, but they’ll be fine.”
Sophia nodded, a flush coloring her pale cheeks. “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t worry—”
Drake pulled her close. “You love her. Worrying is natural. But you trust her also, don’t you?”
Sophia nodded. “Always.”
Drake smiled. “Good. Because she will need your faith and trust every time she goes into battle. You are her strength.”
“I’m afraid of what my father might find.” Sophia trembled. “But Niki shouldn’t have to fight on every side every day. Without the mate bond, she is vulnerable to the call of others, even if she doesn’t want it. And I…I want her to belong to me in every way.”
Drake held her shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. “Everything will be fine. No matter what he finds, I promise you, we will deal with it. We are Pack.”
“Thank you.”
“How’s Misha?”
“Healing quickly.”
“Good. And Tamara?”
“She’s malnourished, but strong by nature. We’re feeding her,” Sophia said with a soft smile. “And she is healing too.”
“Good. Despite what she’s done, I don’t believe she’s an enemy.”
“No, I think she and the others were misled, and any wolf would have done what they did.”
“Still,” Drake said, “she needs to be guarded until we know where her loyalties lie.”
“I understand.”
“Be careful.” Drake walked her to the door. “Niki would be most upset if you were endangered.”
“Niki is easy to upset,” Sophia said, her eyes shining with love.
“Niki is a strong and able general. And her temper is the fire we need in one such as her. We all have our roles to play.”
“I’m so glad you are here.”
“So am I.” As Sophia left for the infirmary, Drake signaled for Philip, a sentrie lieutenant, to report. He loped across the yard and jumped up to join her. “Have the trackers found anything?”
“No, Prima, nothing reliable.” He rubbed the fine dusting of auburn beard along his jaw. “Katya was in and out of the Compound frequently all day. We can pick up her scent on several trails, but they cross and recross her own and those of other wolves until we lose the scent. I’m sorry.”
Drake gripped his arm. “You’ve done your best. Call back your soldiers. Make sure they’re fed and keep them close. I may have need of them soon.”
He saluted, still looking unhappy. “Yes, Prima.”
Drake reached out again for Sylvan and felt a tug in their connection, but she could not judge where Sylvan was or how soon she might return. She hadn’t planned to take action without discussing it with Sylvan, but uneasiness roiled in her depths. Katya would have known a fight was coming, and she would have returned, if she’d been able. Waiting would gain nothing and might cost more than any of them were willing to pay.
Decision made, she vaulted across the Compound into the infirmary and down the hall. She rapped quickly on Misha’s door and walked inside. Torren sat by Misha’s bed, one hand combing through Misha’s hair, the other hand entwined with Misha’s.
“Prima!” Misha started to rise and Drake held up her hand.
“No, stay. How are you feeling?”
“Fine, Prima.”
Misha’s eyes burned with a hint of fever, and if Sophia hadn’t just told Drake that Misha was healing, she’d have been more worried. Still, she found a stethoscope on the side counter. “Let me check you over.”
Drake did a quick exam and stepped back. “You’re doing well.”
“She is better,” Torren said quietly, “but she is not yet completely healed.”
“You were there,” Drake said, studying Torren curiously, “with my wolf in the forest. When I was healing.”
“Yes.” Torren smiled softly. “I did not mean to intrude.”
“You didn’t. My wolf welcomed you, but I don’t know why that is.”
“I don’t think you would understand if I tried to explain how—”
“You don’t need to.” Drake laughed quietly. “If I were concerned about all the things I couldn’t understand, I would spend all day worrying. My mate and my wolf trust you. That’s enough for me.”
“What is it you need?” Torren asked.
“One of my wolves is missing.”
Misha jerked. “Who?”
“Katya. She went out for a run hours ago and told Gray she’d be back soon. She knew the Alpha was calling the warriors. She would not have missed it if she was able to be here.”
“And you can’t track her?” Torren asked.
“Our best trackers are with Sylvan. The ones who remain are good, but they can’t pick up her trail. Can you?”
Torren stood, her hand still in Misha’s. “I can track anyone, across any world.”
Her tone was completely devoid of arrogance, and Drake didn’t need to know any more than what Sylvan had already said. Torren was the Fae Master of the Hunt. She could cross dimensions, time, and barriers of which Drake could not even begin to conceive. “This is not the kind of hunt you’re used to. You will not be collecting any souls at the end.”
Torren smiled. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. When do we begin?”
“Now.”
Misha sat up. “I’m going with you.”
“No,” Torren said.
“She is not yours to command,” Drake said quietly.
“No, she isn’t,” Torren said, undeterred by the steel in Drake’s tone, “but she is mine to care for. And she is not yet ready for battle.”
“Misha?” Drake asked.
Misha shuddered and fleetingly looked away. “I am not totally better, but I can run. And if I have to, I can fight.”
“You will stay here, rest, and finish healing.” Drake read the disappointment in her eyes and squeezed her bare shoulder. “This will not be our last battle.”
“Yes, Prima.” Misha looked at Torren and the fire in her eyes clouded with uncertainty. “Will you return?”
“You heard your Prima. I am not collecting souls this night. Besides, the Gates of Faerie are closed to me—to everyone.”
“Do you know why that is?” Drake asked.
“No,” Torren said, “but it would not be the first time. Centuries ago when the humans came into power and the Vampires and the Weres went to war, the Fae withdrew to Faerie. Our Queen closed our Gates to all who might attack us. If Cecilia suspects chaos here in this realm, she may very well have done the same.”
“And leave her Master of the Hunt stranded?”
Torren shrugged, unconcerned. “Queen Cecilia worries little about the fate of an individual, and this would not be the first time I have been earthbound. Although this time”—she stroked Misha’s arm—“the experience is not unwelcome.”
“Well, you’re welcome here for as long as you like. Are you ready?”
Torren leaned over and kissed Misha. “I’m always ready for the Hunt.”
*
Katya woke in blackness with a throbbing pain in the back of her neck and no idea of where she was. She lay perfectly still, listening, scenting.
Silence.
Cold, damp.
Death everywhere.
Her heart leapt and her chest convulsed. She knew this place.
Prison. Captivity. Pain. Torture.
Run!
She jerked upright on the bare platform. Metal bolted to the wall. No shackles on her wrists. No collar on her neck. The wall behind her back was stone. Her skin did not burn. Not silver. Not like the last prison.
She touched her neck, felt teeth marks and blood on her nape. A recent attack. Still healing. The attack. Running through the forest, home on her mind, Michel in her heart. A heavy weight falling onto her from above, strong jaws, razor-sharp teeth. Thrashing, fighting, no air. She growled, the attacker’s scent in her nose still. Cat Were. Ambush.
She jumped up. Raging. Paced the small dark cell. Walls of stone. Steel bars
on the door. She gripped the metal. Cold, not burning. Iron, not silver. She breathed deeply. Her wolf growled softly, wary and watchful. Strong. Her fear melted. Imprisoned, but not poisoned. She gripped the bars again, shook the door.
“You won’t be able to escape, precious,” a low lyrical voice crooned. “Not even the mighty Sylvan could bend these bars.”
Two forms emerged from the shadows, their pale faces illuminated by the light of a pair of torches. Francesca and Michel. In the firelight, Michel’s face was as beautiful and blank as a statue. Her gaze slid over Katya without the slightest pause. As if Katya was not worth her notice.
Metal scraped on metal and the cell door swung open.
Katya jumped back, making space to fight.
“See, darling? I told you I had something Sylvan would want,” Francesca said with delight. She appeared at Katya’s side and stroked her face. “One of her chosen.”
“You think Sylvan will risk a war for one wolf who isn’t even grown yet?” Michel said coolly.
“Sylvan has the Fae, and that is worth my going to war. Sylvan won’t want to risk being blamed for that. A trade will let her save face—and you know how much her honor means to her.”
A ripple passed through the muscles along Michel’s jaw. “And if she won’t trade?”
“Well, we’ll find a use for this one, won’t we?” Francesca’s voice was ripe with seduction. Delicately, she tilted Katya’s chin up and kissed her. “I do love the young ones, don’t you? So strong, and their blood is so sweet.”
Katya jerked back, canines exposed. “Touch me again, and I will kill you.”