by Raand, L. L.
“Oh my, I do hope you try.” Francesca glided behind Katya, her grip on Katya’s throat tightening. Katya struggled but Francesca was far older and far stronger. She pressed her incisors into Katya’s throat until a thin stream of scarlet trickled down her neck. With a flick of her tongue, she licked it away. Katya jerked, her chest heaving.
“If you feed from her against her will,” Michel said quietly, “Sylvan will never negotiate. She won’t stop until one of you is defeated.”
Francesca regarded Michel over Katya’s shoulder. “I almost think you don’t want her to be touched.”
Michel regarded Katya flatly. “I don’t care what becomes of her, but I would prefer not to die at Sylvan’s hand for something that matters so little. I can bring you a dozen just like her right now if you wish.”
“Sylvan won’t know, will she, if we avail ourselves of her young wolf.” Francesca cast her thrall and Katya shuddered, her back arching with the sexual allure. “After all, she won’t remember.”
Chapter Twenty-four
The wolves ran full-out through the forest on trails no wider than the deer that had made them to keep pace with the Hound, Drake in the lead, her two lieutenants following. The great beast moved with the lightness and grace of a bird on the wing, flowing between trees and over the rocky ground as if gliding on air. Drake’s sides heaved, her lungs tingling with the cold night air, her pelt rippling in the breeze. She never felt as alive or as free as when she ran in pelt, and nothing could have been better except having Sylvan running by her side. She missed Sylvan like an ache in her bones, so deep nothing could lessen it short of the sight and scent of her mate. The Hound slowed, lifted its broad muzzle to sniff the air, and padded around a small break in the trees where the trail forked. Drake, Anya, and Philip slowed, and Torren rose where the beast had been. Drake and the others shed pelt to join her.
“Here…” Torren indicated the break in the dense woods with a sweep of her arm. “Your wolf fought a cat here.”
Drake stared at the ground and saw nothing but hard-packed earth and scattered leaves in the moonlight. She drew a deep breath, searching for traces of Katya, and caught a fleeting tinge of Were blood. She growled softly. “She fought here, but there’d be more blood if she had lost. If she’d won and had been too injured to reach the Compound, we would have found her or her trail.”
“The cat came from up there.” Torren pointed to a wide overhanging branch twenty feet above their heads. “From that distance, your wolf would’ve been stunned by the weight of the attacker dropping on her back. She probably was easy to subdue.”
“An ambush?” Drake asked.
“Cats routinely stalk prey from the trees,” Torren said, “but if the cat was hunting, where is the kill?”
“And where did they go?” Drake fought down her fury. She could not change what had been done. She could only set it right. “Katya, even unconscious, wouldn’t have been easy for a single attacker to transport. There must have been a vehicle somewhere nearby.”
“I can follow their trail until she’s placed in a vehicle.” Torren lifted a thin elegant shoulder. “I’ll still be able to track her, but it will take more time.”
Anya, a communications specialist with skill at tracking, said, “They likely went north if the cats took her. We might be able to catch them while they’re still in our territory.” Her grin was lethal. “We will have the advantage—and the right to kill them all.”
Torren shook her head. “They didn’t go north. They went south.”
“Why?” Anya muttered, staring into the black forest as if answers might appear out of the shadows. “There’s no cat stronghold to the south.”
“No,” Drake said, “but we know there are still laboratories somewhere, and those kind of facilities are easier to hide in the cities than the mountains. The cat Weres are notorious mercenaries, so possibly she was taken as a test subject.”
“Again?” Philip asked, his lean face elongating as his wolf fought for primacy. “Are they targeting her specifically?”
“I can’t think of a reason Katya would be singled out,” Drake said, although trying to assign rationality to the motivations of madmen was futile. “Both Katya and Gray are young dominant females, but so are half a dozen other young females, and not all of them are trained fighters. Others would have been easier to capture.”
“Maybe the cats didn’t take her for the labs,” Anya said. “Maybe the cat is working for someone else.”
“Someone whose stronghold is to the south,” Drake murmured. “Someone whose loyalties are always changing.”
“The Vampires,” Torren said. “That’s possible. And if it’s true, freeing her will not be easy.”
“Can you follow her alone for now?” Drake asked. “No matter where she’s being held, we’re going to need more forces to free her. I’ll return with a strike force as soon as I can.”
“It might be wiser to wait until you know why she was taken.” Torren paused. “They went to some trouble to take her alive and uninjured. She is a pawn, capital in some game we do not yet understand. If you wait, whoever has her will have to make the next move.”
“No,” Drake said. “We do not allow our wolves to be held captive for any reason. If her captors think to have a game, they will be disappointed. We will not be playing when we strike.”
“I’ll track her, then,” Torren said, “and contact you as soon as I find her.”
“We’ll be ready with our warriors.” A ball of anger coalesced in Drake’s chest. “If it’s the Vampires, sunrise will be the best time to breach their stronghold. Except for Francesca’s guards and human servants, all of the Risen will have left Nocturne.”
“True,” Torren said, “but those who remain in the lair will be the strongest of Francesca’s Vampires.”
“Yes, but even they will not be at full strength during the daylight hours.”
Torren nodded. “The human servants on guard at the gates to the lair will be no match for Weres, and even the oldest Vampires have some diminution of strength during daylight hours. You will also have the element of surprise.”
“Whoever Francesca has inside her lair,” Drake said with a slow, ominous snarl, “does not matter. We will free our wolf.”
*
Michel swallowed the rage turning her vision scarlet. The taste of Katya’s fear and the desire triggered by Francesca’s thrall was a madness tearing at the fabric of her being. Katya had never been simple prey, but now she was no one’s to touch. No one but hers. Katya’s blood flowed in her, and hers in Katya. The blood bond evolved as a physical link to protect the Vampire’s existence by ensuring they would always have a source of life from which to feed, but Katya was far more than a promise of eternity. She was what made eternity worth having. The clouds of purposelessness shrouding Michel’s existence had been banished with the light Katya shed on Michel’s endless night. Katya was the sun that no longer touched her skin or dazzled her eyes with brilliant color at the break of dawn. She was every lost chance and broken dream, every promise Michel had ever made and long forgotten. Katya was all that mattered.
Michel shuddered. The need to attack anyone who dared feed from her bonded consort was a fever inside her. If she challenged the Viceregal, Francesca would kill her, but death, true death, was preferable to watching Katya be violated and broken. If she struck now, while Francesca was alone, Katya would have a chance to escape. Michel took a step forward, her incisors lengthening, and Francesca’s eyes gleamed in anticipation. Francesca pressed her mouth to Katya’s neck, poised to take her, her thrall so potent Michel’s sex throbbed in time to the beat of Francesca’s heart. And then another beat rose, overshadowing Francesca’s, capturing hers. Katya’s heart. Strong, resilient, brave.
Michel’s gaze slid to Katya’s for an instant, and Katya’s amber eyes bored into hers, clear and steady. Katya would not be so easily broken. Michel took another step and slowly, with her hand cradling Katya’s jaw, leaned past her to kiss Francesca.
Their lips met a breath away from Katya’s ear. “I will join you in the feeding, then. Perhaps Sylvan won’t take Katya’s lack of memory to mean anything. If Sylvan doesn’t suspect what we’ve done, she might still be willing to negotiate.”
“Sylvan,” Francesca sighed. “If she were only Bernardo, my life would be so much easier.” She kissed Michel, a long lingering kiss meant to inflame her.
Michel felt nothing, only the heat of Katya’s flesh against her palm.
Francesca drew back from Katya’s throat. “I suppose until we hear Sylvan’s answer, we should leave this one alone.”
“Whatever you decide, Regent.” Michel slid her hand down Katya’s neck, over her bare chest, and rested it for an instant over her heart. Francesca was too powerful not to hear a silent communication, but she ached for Katya to know that she would die eternally before she would let Francesca have her.
“It’s almost sunrise.” Francesca released her hold on Katya. “Time for us to take our pleasures, darling. Our hosts will be waiting.”
Katya slumped backward onto the platform and gripped the hard edges to keep herself upright. Her chest heaved, and her skin shimmered with sex-sheen and fury. Her jaws lengthened and sun-kissed pelt streaked down her torso.
“Oh dear,” Francesca said, slipping an arm around Michel’s waist, “I’m afraid our guest is going to be quite uncomfortable. We seem to have excited her.”
“Nothing unusual for a Were,” Michel said, closing her trembling hands into fists. “They’re so easy to seduce.”
“Such a pity to leave her. They do taste so good when the fever is on.” Francesca studied Michel intently. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a small taste?”
“I’ve a bit of the fever myself,” Michel whispered, easing her hand up Francesca’s side to cradle her breast. Francesca’s nipple hardened instantly and her body surged against Michel with a wave of lust that vibrated throughout the small cell. “But not for a Were too unseasoned to be interesting.”
“Come then, darling,” Francesca said with a lilting tone of victory. “Come feed with me where you belong.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Drake stood before the open window in Sylvan’s office, waiting for the first glimpse of Sylvan and her warriors. Downstairs, Anya organized the lines of communication and oversaw the transfer of equipment and armaments to the Rovers. Outside in the Compound, Tomas prepared the soldiers, reviewing security protocols with those who would stay behind and appointing squad leaders to head the field forces. In the infirmary, Sophia and Elena readied field packs to be used on the wounded until they could be transported back to the Compound. Drake mentally reassessed all that must be done on the eve of battle and put aside the things for which she could never prepare.
They would have injured, and probably deaths. A year ago, in a different life, she would not have conceived of facing an enemy in the flesh to exact justice. She would have called on others to represent her and might even have still believed that the law and justice were one and the same. Now she knew better. She was no longer the human physician who waited beyond the fray to heal the warriors and victims alike. She was the warrior now and stood for others, and some of those she loved would be among the wounded. But no one she loved or had sworn to protect would ever be among the victims.
She and Sylvan would protect their own. The imperative to preserve the lives of their Pack and secure the future for their children and their children’s children was bred into Sylvan’s genes, into her blood, into her deepest self. Sylvan could do nothing less and Drake was her mate—when they bound their bodies and their hearts, they also bound their destinies. Human laws did not recognize or support or seek to represent those whose lives, whose existence, followed a different order. The Weres—all the Praeterns—existed as singular nations side by side with humans, but without the same rights and protections. Until the governing powers expanded to encompass the realities of a coalition society, the human justice system was irrelevant.
So she would fight.
Stars glittered brightly in the inky sky, and in the distance, other lights winked on. Both her heartbeat and the tension in her belly ratcheted up a notch. Headlights. The Rovers were returning. She braced an arm against the window where Sylvan often stood looking out over their territory, the weight of leadership heavy on her shoulders. Tonight, Drake appreciated the burden of that weight in a way she never had before. The whole time she focused on the many decisions required when mobilizing forces, she’d had to fight her instinctual urge to simply shift and storm into the lair of whoever held Katya and tear them apart. Her wolf cared nothing for strategy and battle plans. She was Were, and deep in her brain, the instinct to protect flamed brighter than any other. That drive burned even hotter in Sylvan.
Every hour of every day, Sylvan balanced her primal urges against her reasoning mind in order to guide her Pack through a modern world. The struggle never ceased and the cost was great, but she bore the mantle of responsibility with honor. Drake knew Sylvan’s duty would never end, and hers was to share the burden in any way she could. Tonight she had willingly taken up the banner of leadership, but she was very glad the Alpha had returned.
The Rovers were still a few miles away when she caught Sylvan’s scent. An instant later the silver wolf bounded high over the stockade and landed in the center of the Compound. Every Were turned as one to greet her with joyous leaps and barks. Sylvan howled a greeting, never slowing, and sailed through the window into the center of her office. By the time Drake reached her, she had shed her pelt.
“Tell me you are well,” Drake said, sliding her arms around Sylvan’s naked waist.
“I’m fine.” Sylvan pushed both hands into Drake’s hair, kissed her, and dragged her across the room to the huge leather sofa against one wall.
Drake went willingly and pulled Sylvan down on top of her, opening her arms and legs to enfold Sylvan. Her mate’s skin was hot and slick with the aftermath of battle frenzy. She was full and insistent between Drake’s thighs, already pushing into her, her teeth already at Drake’s throat.
“I’m here,” Drake whispered. She set her claws into Sylvan’s ass and gripped her tightly with her legs clasped around the back of Sylvan’s thighs. She pressed her mouth to the bite on Sylvan’s chest, forcing Sylvan to thrust hard and lock them together. Sylvan growled and her nipples hardened against Drake’s. They would not be parted now until they had both finished.
“I’m yours.” Drake threw her head back, rocking in time to Sylvan’s thrusts.
Sylvan growled again, her hips an avalanche between Drake’s thighs, pumping power and victus deep inside her. Drake came, the flood of hormones swamping them both. Sylvan bit her, her clitoris pulsing hard against Drake’s, and emptied with a tremendous shudder. Drake readied over and over, her need endless. Sylvan didn’t soften right away but kept thrusting harder and harder until she spent completely. Until she had nothing left.
Panting in great unsteady gasps against Drake’s throat, Sylvan slowly relaxed. She kissed the bite where she had just seconds before buried her canines. “Hello, mate.”
Drake laughed softly and stroked Sylvan’s sweat-soaked hair. She ran her fingers up and down the muscles along Sylvan’s spine and clasped her ass. “Welcome home, Alpha.”
Sylvan nuzzled Drake’s throat. “How are you?”
“Fine, now that you’re here. Tell me about Bernardo.”
“I will, but first tell me what’s happened. The soldiers are organizing for battle.”
Drake sighed. Their private moment was over. She held Sylvan a second longer, absorbing the touch and the scent of her. When she relaxed her hold, Sylvan leaned up on an elbow and regarded her through the eyes of her wolf, watchful and waiting.
“We’ve tracked Katya to a point south of here where she was attacked by a cat Were,” Drake said. “We think the Vampires might be behind it.”
Sylvan remained completely still, a predator in the final second before it strikes. �
�Tell me.”
Drake relayed her decision to enlist Torren’s help in tracking Katya, what they’d found, and what they’d surmised. “Torren will continue to track Katya until she finds her. Once we have confirmation that she’s been captured, my plan was to go get her.”
“Your plan is right.” Needing to ground her wolf in Drake’s essence, Sylvan sat up, drew Drake onto her lap, and wrapped one arm around her waist. She cradled Drake’s breast and kissed her throat. Even though the battle at Bernardo’s had been an easy one, she’d been away for hours and her wolf had been constantly on edge—first poised to fight, then repelling the young Blackpaws, and finally furious at the state of Bernardo’s Pack. By the time she was ready to return home, her need for Drake overshadowed everything else. She’d run ahead of the Rovers, pounding through the dark forest with the only thing on her mind reaching her mate and joining. Now, her duties had returned. “If you’re right and Francesca is behind this, she’ll have surrounded herself with her most experienced guards.”
“Can we defeat them?”
Sylvan’s lips drew back and her canines flashed. “Of course. We were once their army for a reason. We are born to fight and their numbers are small.”
“If we attack, we’ll be declaring war against all the Vampires.” Drake paused. “And their allies—the humans most likely, and possibly the Fae. Queen Cecilia allowed Torren to remain imprisoned, after all. Maybe she supports Francesca.”
“But Torren aided you,” Sylvan said.
Drake smiled. “Torren appears to have little regard for convention. She does as she will.”
“Enviable,” Sylvan muttered.
“But lonely.”
Sylvan smiled and kissed Drake. “Yes. And not a life I would want.”
“I know.”
“As to those who might be loyal to Francesca?” Sylvan lifted her shoulder. “Vampire politics are labyrinthine. Who knows if she can command the other seethes to join her. And even if she does, she has no army. Vampires have grown complacent over the centuries, guarding their territory through terror and intimidation. They have not had to protect their borders because we have had a truce.”