Cloaked in Blood

by T. F. Walsh

  My wolf prodded me, stirring inside, well aware of who stood before us. Marcin had grown into even more of a wulfkin god: muscular, strong cheekbones, and a chest broad enough for me to sleep across. All I could think about was touching him to make sure he was real and not in my imagination.

  Move closer. Take him.

  I shouldn’t, yet every molecule in my body fought against the logic that said stay away.

  Sure, I’d planned for this very moment and even practiced my nonchalant response in front of the mirror. Except now, my voice was wedged somewhere between my toes and head. My body shook with the desperate urge to be pressed up against him, feel his hungry kisses, and listen to his wicked whispers. I struggled with the charge in my veins screaming that I should run to him, throw my arms around his neck, and forget the past nine years. Forget that he tore out my soul. Forget that I mistook him as my mate because he’d lied to me. Abandoned me.

  Father touched my arm, and I flinched. “Did you hear me?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “Emperor Levin, this is my eldest.”

  I lowered my gaze. Blood dotted the tips of Levin’s boots. Wulfkin blood. He’d probably returned from flogging a poor wulfkin who dared speak against him.

  “Yes, I know you. Lift your head so I can look at you properly,” Levin said, amusement woven beneath his words.

  The moment I did, my gaze swept across the room and landed on Marcin. The pressure inside me deepened. Why wasn’t he saying anything? It killed me to stand there and stare at him without moving closer. He might as well pull out a blade and carve up what was left of my heart.

  Our history was meaningless. Now, he was nothing more than the one I had to mate with for this peace treaty. I doubted he’d welcome even a hug from me. Levin, on the other hand, seemed ready to drag me into his private chamber. The vision made me ill.

  Marcin strode closer, his arms tight, a hooded gaze hooked into his father. When Marcin finally glanced my way, my insides iced.

  “Selena?” The sound of his voice was soft, almost desperate.

  I trembled. For a wild moment, I was certain he’d take me into his arms, his hands digging into my back as he kissed me, but it didn’t happen. Just like he’d never come looking for me when my father locked me up for weeks after we were caught running away together in Turkey, threatening to sell me off to another alpha. Marcin and I had known each other for years, but we spent a few wonderful weeks together in Turkey when I was sixteen years old. At the time it felt as if we’d known each other for a lifetime.

  Levin shifted toward me, blocking my view of Marcin, his heavy breaths gliding across my face and stinking of blood. Next he circled me, and my primitive instinct screamed to attack him, rip his jugular out. Instead, I sensed his footsteps around me, his fingers grazing my arm, lifting my hand to his nose. Then he peeled back my upper lip with a thumb.

  Fire raced through my veins, and I smacked his hand away.

  Levin’s brow twisted, but he grinned.

  “Selena.” My father’s voice was poison. He snatched my wrist and squeezed. “Apologize.” He always asked me to back down, to let others walk over me, and it jabbed me like an angry wasp each time anyone spoke to me that way.

  “I agreed to this of my own volition, not—”

  Father’s frown chased away my words. Turkish Varlac rules insisted females had no standing until they were mated.

  “Don’t worry, Boran.” Levin patted Father’s shoulder. “Young ones these days have lost their respect. Selena will perfectly match my sharp-tongued son. Marcin, you remember Selena Kurt, don’t you? She’s your future mate, just like you wanted all those years ago.”

  “What’s going on?” Marcin said, his words piercing and direct, shadows dancing beneath his eyes. “What’s she doing here?”

  An invisible fist struck my stomach, and with every instinct in my body, every wisp of my being, I fought the urge to scream at Marcin, force him to admit we had a past, a caring one at that, and not react as if he’d just discovered his future mate was a hideous mutant monster. I had to remind myself I wasn’t facing the Marcin from years ago. He’d been a young boy then. Now he was an adult wulfkin, leading his own pack and ruling by his father’s side.

  And at once, it became too much to handle. The rage I’d used to cover the pain of Marcin’s deceit shoved forward. I clamped down the emotions shredding my insides to shards because those kinds of feelings only led to hurt.

  “Come.” Levin threaded an arm around Father’s, his voice toneless because our emotions didn’t matter, only his transaction had merit. “Join me by the fire to warm yourself while they get reacquainted.”

  Aisha retreated to stand near the captain of the guards.

  Marcin said nothing at first, but stared at me as if I’d grown two heads. A scorching fire penetrated my skin, and my face burned.

  I swallowed past the boulder in my throat. “It’s been a while. Nine years, right?”

  The corded muscles in his neck tensed. “It’s been too long.” He averted his gaze when he spoke as if I meant so little to him. “Excuse me, please.” He swung toward his father and, in a few long strides, reached the Varlac leaders. At least the repulsive Turkish alpha would have been excited to see me.

  But I had to remember—my mission here was only to protect my sister and help ease the war between the clans, like any dutiful Varlac daughter. Still ... if I had to spend the rest of my life with him, how could I live with this changed Marcin, when the one I loved no longer existed?

  “Why didn’t you talk to me about this first?” Despite Marcin’s attempted whisper, his words bounced around the room.

  Levin shook his head and refused to face him. “So you can run away again and make the situation between our clans worse? Trust me. In a few days, you two will be inseparable.”

  “Father. This—”

  “Enough!” Levin faced his son and took a deep breath, obviously calming himself. “Marcin, I will only ask you once to accept this.” The harshness underlying his tone had me retreating a few steps. He refocused on my father and broke into a theoretical discussion about our merger.

  Marcin stood there for a few moments, his chest heaving, his posture curled forward, and hands fisted. Only then did he return to me.

  I contemplated turning away from him. If I did, would I be any better than him? I managed to lift my chin with a smile.

  “Selena,” he said, his voice low and brittle. “We’re in the middle of a council meeting right now. I’ll organize for someone to show you to your rooms.”

  A softness swept across his expression. For that short pause, I stared at the young Marcin who longed for peace between all wulfkin, whose reassuring words injected me with the confidence to strive for anything in life and reminded me of his pledge to take me away from my father. They’d been lies. All the things he’d said were fabrications. My permanent hip injury attested to that.

  Levin’s words sliced my thoughts. “Sultan, join our council meeting and see how we deal with those who break rules.” His tone darkened.

  “Wonderful.” Father turned toward Aisha and me. “Come along.” He then accompanied Levin out of the room with Marcin storming out the door behind them.

  Aisha rushed to my side, weaving an arm around mine. “That wasn’t too bad.”

  I exchanged glances with my sister, offering her a frown. “Were we in the same room?”

  “I think he’s just shocked.”

  Except how could I ever fully trust Marcin again after I got injured and he ditched me?

  “Ladies, this way.” Zeki, our guard, stood near the doorway. “You don’t want to fall behind your father.”

  We hurried out and soon emerged into an enormous courtyard, the length and width of four train carriages. The cold was worse than inside, if that was even possible. Father vanished through another set of doors ahead. The castle’s cobblestone walls encircled the area, casting shadows over the empty yard. No plants or flowers or much el
se except snow, which had recently been shoveled into heaps against the walls. Farther ahead, an old-fashioned well sat in the center like an ancient relic that had watched the world pass it by.

  Colored lanterns, cushions, and music would transform the place into a welcoming sight. Though I doubted the Hungarian clan did happiness.

  Aisha’s hand squeezed mine. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

  “Thanks.” I leaned against her shoulder. We hadn’t been separated since her birth, and missing her would be an understatement. I’d be left in this place with Levin leering at me and Marcin ignoring me. Running away would be interpreted as an insult and would lead Levin to attack our home in Turkey. Nope, I’d make this work, somehow. We entered a dark corridor with more candelabras and tapestries lining the walls. Our boot heels clicked loudly as we rushed to catch up with the alphas.

  “I have a proposal to make.” Marcin strolled alongside his father, standing taller than him. “Drop the charges against Enre and Daciana, and I’ll go through with the mating.”

  He might as well have shot an arrow into my heart. It shouldn’t surprise me that Marcin used me as a bargaining chip when my father had done the exact same thing. It must be an alpha thing.

  “No. You’ll be mated, and your brother will face charges.”

  Marcin fell back a few steps and glanced over his shoulder at me for a split second. We were both trapped in the same forced mating. Words pressed against my mind, willing Marcin to ignore his frustration about the unfairness of it all and about dishonest parents. But what difference would it make? When Father first broached the topic with me, it had taken me a week to speak to him again. But his threats of mating Aisha were oh so convincing ... and manipulative.

  Before us, two grand doors opened. Inside, several hundred candles against the walls and in the overhead chandeliers wavered from the draft. Arched windows lined three walls, overlooking a snowy landscape of mountains. Perched on the back wall, above the fireplace, was a flag with an image of a wolf wearing armor ... the Hungarian Varlac symbol of the iron wolf, always ready for battle.

  A large group of wulfkin waited for us inside. Wolf scents—timber, earthy, flowery—struck at once, reminding me of a stuffy room that hadn’t seen the light of day for months.

  The sea of wulfkin parted, and we strolled through, the hairs on the nape of my neck rising.

  Once in the center, the crowd closed in behind us. Across the other end were two wulfkin, a male and female, their mouths taped and their hands chained.

  I bit my lower lip, staring at the blood dribbling down their faces. The male had the same blue eyes as Marcin, but unlike Marcin who was fair skinned with light-colored hair, Enre was tanned with black hair and obviously took after his father. I recognized Marcin’s brother instantly. What had Enre done?

  My gaze shifted to the female kneeling next to him, her dark hair pulled into a ponytail, shoulders thrust back, and gaze wide.

  Aisha nudged me to my seat and slipped down alongside me, Father on my other side.

  “Today.” Levin broke the stilted silence. “Two alphas, Enre and Daciana, stand accused in place of their deceased leaders for breaking our Varlac laws.”

  I slid to the edge of my chair, my insides tight. I’d seen Father punish wulfkin for committing deadly crimes, yet these two were being punished for someone else’s acts. Savagery. Father always used a strong fist, but he was fair most of the time, putting wulfkin first. Except when it came to me, apparently.

  And a female alpha? Unheard of at home, yet here she was. Maybe I still stood a chance of Father bestowing the same status on me without a mate.

  Levin’s voice rumbled as he explained the reasons for punishment and how, if found guilty, Enre and Daciana would die. I gripped the arms of the chair. Senseless killings. Aisha gasped beside me, and judging by her pale complexion, she agreed.

  Levin rattled on. I leaned closer to Father and lowered my voice. “This is unjust.”

  He patted my hand. “We don’t interfere with another pack’s rules.”

  Levin’s gravelly voice made my skin crawl. “I call the council to hear your verdict.”

  “They don’t stand a chance,” I whispered. “I ... I won’t marry into this pack if they are killed.” If this was a normal occurrence here, I wanted no part of it. Mating contract or no.

  His scowl did little to alter my determination.

  “Father, please.” I racked my mind for a solution, for a way to help the two wulfkin who looked as if they’d been in a marathon, running for their lives—worn down and beaten. Then it hit me, and I whispered, “Stop this. Call for a battle of innocence.” Each inhale quickened, and I readied to jump to my feet with my proposal, to defend these poor wulfkin.

  But Marcin was on his feet and striding halfway across the room. “If you punish them, I demand the same fate.”

  “So dramatic, Marcin. Sit down.”

  “No.” An electric charge spilled through the room, the kind before a wulfkin transformed—Marcin’s. Mine stirred inside too, responding to his, and he glanced over to me for a second. Did he feel it too?

  Levin flicked his hand, and two guards closed in on Marcin. More wulfkin entered the great hall, all stocky and obvious fighters, exchanging a knowing nod with Marcin.

  This situation would end in bloodshed. What family was I getting myself into?

  “Levin, Marcin.” My father stepped steadily, his hands resting across his belly. “What about a traditional trial that will truly show us if the accused are guilty?”

  My gaze was glued on Levin, and I prayed he accepted.

  His lips pinched, and if ever anyone was about to self-combust, it was him. Instead, his ballooning rage morphed into a fake smirk. “Whatever do you have in mind?”

  “A battle of innocence. Two worthy champions are selected to represent Enre and Daciana in a challenge decided by you, as it is your territory. If a champion wins, the wulfkin they represent will be innocent and released. If they fail, the wulfkin will be guilty and punished accordingly. One champion will battle on behalf of Enre, the other for Daciana. And as an extra incentive to attract the best warriors, the first of the champions to win the challenge may claim a boon.”

  A cacophony of voices and howls from the crowd swept through the room, their feet stomping against the wooden floorboards with their approval. Enre nodded.

  Marcin approached my father and bowed approvingly. “I give my consent to the quest.” He faced the audience. “Does any council member here have reason as to why we shouldn’t proceed with the redeeming quest to prove Enre and Daciana’s innocence?”

  Levin’s loathing was on full display from his warped lips to his creased nose. He gazed over the cheering mob that might just as well turn violent if their entertainment was now snuffed away.

  “I generously appreciate your contribution, Sultan, but we deal with rule breakers differently in Hungary. We don’t reward them.”

  Marcin gestured for his pack members to retreat into the audience with a nod of his head. “It’s what the pack wants.”

  The crowd roared in agreement as if Marcin had them eating out of his hand. No doubt who the wulfkin preferred. Marcin slid into his seat, as did my father, leaving Levin standing alone. Every eye was on the Hungarian Varlac emperor, and I couldn’t help but wonder how someone on such a power trip would react to not getting his way.

  He pushed his jaw forward as an anaconda might do before devouring its prey. “Sultan, thank you for your suggestion.” Levin’s words were clipped and strangled, clearly disapproving of our interference. “In honor of having you in my home, I give my consent to the quest.”

  An explosion of cheers burst out from the surrounding crowd. Would they have had the same reaction if Levin sentenced Enre and Daciana to death?

  “But I call for a venery,” Levin continued and the excitement flatlined at the mention of the word that took its origins from Varlac leaders hunting wild animals for sport. “A venery will be
held for all to enter and to find the two worthiest of champions to take on such a trial. As is tradition.”

  Maybe it was the elevated tension in the room, the mounting egos, or simply that I wondered if the wulfkin in Turkey would have made a safer choice. I questioned my decision to willingly throw myself into the devil’s den.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Marcin

  The day was fucked up, and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.

  Father attempting to kill my brother under the pretense of his made-up bullshit rules and arranging for me to be mated to our enemy’s daughter was just the beginning. The Turkish clan had attempted to kill me at the age of nineteen, and now I was being thrown to the slaughter. Why else would Father dredge up my past again? And to top it off, we were now running an ancient battle of innocence, including a goddamn venery. Yeah, every wulfkin would jump in for a chance at the boon the sultan had suggested. A bloodbath was a guarantee, assuming my father didn’t kill the Turkish alpha first for stepping on his toes.

  My father wore a permanent smile as he strolled alongside the sultan down a stone corridor barely lit by the wrought iron sconces mounted to the wall. If it were up to me, I’d have the whole place wired up with recessed lighting.

  The group swung left toward the marble steps leading up to the guest chambers, and I trailed behind them, my mind drowning.

  Selena walked arm in arm with Aisha. I couldn't help notice she now walked with a slight limp, favoring her left leg. Nine years ago, I had accompanied my father to Turkey so the two power Varlacs could discuss a resolution for the raging war between our clans. But from the moment I spotted Selena in Turkey with a cropped hairstyle, reminding me of a pixie with her green eyes, I was lost. My wolf had claimed her that very second. We both had controlling fathers, and we thought running away was the answer. Unfortunately, neither of us had seen the archer. Selena had stepped in my path and taken the blow. It struck her shoulder, and the momentum took her down a gorge, breaking her hip. We’d made the decision together, but she’d paid the price. That incident tore our clans further apart.