Cloaked in Blood

by T. F. Walsh

  Marcin wore a plain T-shirt and sweatpants—for easy transformation no doubt. Even in his scruffy gear, my gaze fastened to his broad chest and how tight the shirt stretched across it. I had to admit his strong arms were a fetish for me. If there were ever such as thing as arm porn, Marcin would be the hottest superstar. And with that, warmth dove south. Goddess, this was the worst possible time to get all hot and bothered for Marcin.

  Last night’s conversation rolled through my mind, along with his constant questions about the dagger. He had no idea I took the weapon, and it would remain that way.

  He might suspect me, but I had to remind myself he was a lot more dangerous than I’d initially given him credit for being. Then again, if that was the case, why hadn’t the Hungarian guards imprisoned us last night? Meant he hadn’t told anyone ... yet. Either that or Levin was playing a mouse and cat game. Wouldn’t put it past him.

  Marcin’s word against mine. He had no proof, unless whoever stole the second dagger made a reappearance today. The urgency to keep Marcin safe during the challenge bulleted through my veins like an unstoppable train—ferociously fast and promising a spectacular crash.

  My father approached Levin, both chatting casually, but the storm clouds overhead weren’t dissipating anytime soon, in reality or with their underlying distrust.

  Adrenaline had me bouncing on my toes. Father cut a glance my way, the expression on his face taut, his smile shaky. A quick nod confirmed I continued as planned, though his trepidation now crawled up the back of my legs. So much rested on keeping Marcin safe, though in all honestly, there was no guarantee the assassin would even show. If it were me, I’d pick this time and place. Fewer wulfkin around and plenty of space to make a break for it.

  Forcing every emotion from my head, I wove through the twenty or so wulfkin huddled in front of a makeshift podium—a tree stump big enough for six people to stand on. I inhaled the breeze for the poisonous scent. Perspiration, dog fur, and musk strangled me. Nothing else.

  While Levin climbed up on his pedestal and called over to someone to stand near him, I continued wandering through the crowd with no success. Either the assassin wasn’t here or they’d hidden the weapon in the woods. Or a more likely scenario, they waited in the woods. Wouldn’t that mean they were well aware of what we were hunting? If so, that was interesting how Marcin deflected my question when I grilled him about it last night.

  A sexy, masculine smell of musk teased my nostrils, the kind that roused my wolf awake for all the wrong reasons. I turned to find Marcin standing next to me. He might be deadly silent in his movement, but his scent always gave him away. It also made me want to jump his bones, but we weren’t going there.

  “You ready?” He smirked as if he concealed something behind the grin.

  I straightened my posture and lifted my chin. “Sure am. You?”

  “Got this in the bag.” The cockiness in his voice grated on my nerves. As the alpha’s son, he had the world’s best advantage. He had to know what we were hunting and where.

  “I’m sure you do.”

  He narrowed his gaze, and his lips pinched to the side. Goddess please help me, but every inch of me implored that I lean in and steal a kiss. Just like we used to do.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” His words snapped me to reality.

  “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  “Welcome,” Levin’s voice cut through our conversation. “This is the first venery challenge we’ve held on these grounds in centuries. These are exciting times, and I’m grateful to our visitor, Sultan Boran, for suggesting the battle of innocence.”

  Sure you are. Even as he spoke, the undertone of his words was spitting malice at Father’s proposal. Damn, I never should have told Father to interrupt the council meeting, then we wouldn’t be in this position. Yet, I could never have lived with myself if I’d sat there and did nothing as Levin sentenced Enre and Daciana to death. For all I knew, the daggers could have been stolen before Father’s interference at the council meeting. My stomach churned, but there was no time to let doubts into my mind. Focus on the mission at hand.

  “Two stags were released into our forest last night. Each wears a red collar to ensure you bring back the correct animal. The two wulfkin who return the stags, dead or alive, achieve the title of champion and will automatically enter the final battle of innocence. One winner will represent Enre and the second will represent Daciana. If each champion wins the final challenge in the battle of innocence, then Enre and Daciana will be proven innocent, but if the winners fail, Enre and Daciana will be found guilty. It’s possible that a winner will find Enre innocent while the second challenger fails, making Daciana guilty. And to make it clear, as I’ve received many questions about this, the final champions will not be fighting one-on-one to the death. They will be given a challenge to complete.” His voice deepened, while several spectators booed.

  Hunting stags I could do, but with all these pumped up wulfkin, this could easily turn into a bloody mess.

  “And as was promised,” Levin continued. “One boon will be on offer to the first champion to complete the final round. Nothing like this has been done before, and I doubt it ever will again. But don’t forget there are restrictions on what you can request for your boon, such as asking to replace an alpha’s position.” Levin broke into a nervous chuckle. His gaze swept across the group, stopping on me momentarily, his lips spreading into a grin.

  Fuck him, his grimace, and everything he stood for.

  “Rules,” he bellowed. “You can’t transform until you’ve crossed the open land and reached the woods. Bring back the stags, and do whatever it takes to do it. If anyone gets hurt or accidentally killed, there will be no blame issued. So if you want to pull out, now’s the time.”

  Silence fell over the assembly like a heavy curtain, and Levin’s gaze landed on me again. No way would I give him the satisfaction.

  “Let’s get started,” I called out and broke into a woot. Other wulfkin joined in, the atmosphere bubbling into a rupturing volcano.

  “Wulfkin, take your places.” Levin raised a hand and pointed to the line in the snow to his left.

  We all converged along the line, overlooking the landscape. Marcin stood a few paces away.

  I drew my hair into a ponytail and spotted Marcin taking his shirt off, then tossing it behind him.

  Despite every strand of rigid concentration weaving through my body, my gaze lingered on Marcin’s muscles, the goose pimples on his flesh, the way his pants hung low on his hips, accentuating his tapering V.

  When had he buffed up so much?

  For a few seconds, I’d forgotten about the tournament, the thumping of my pulse echoed and sunk deeper through my belly. I chewed on my lower lip as I glanced up at the god of a wulfkin, then noticed him staring my way. Crap.

  He offered me a cheeky grin and winked just as the horn sounded.

  Wulfkin burst forward, legs pumping, arms swinging.

  I lunged after them.

  “Go Selena. Woohoo!” Aisha’s shouts faded in the background.

  The turf and snow flew beneath me; wind whipped my face and tugged on my clothes. Wulfkin branched out in every direction, targeting the circular band of trees ahead.

  Marcin plowed onward, his strides long and powerful, and the distance between us widened by the second.

  I pushed myself faster. The pinching ache in my hip lanced down my leg each time that foot hit the ground and sunk in snow to my ankles.

  Half a field to go. Keep going. Don’t think about it.

  My inner wolf was there, curled tight in my chest, waiting for her chance, snarling for release.

  Soon.

  Ahead, two wulfkin tracked behind Marcin, who’d already vanished into the woods. Were they the assassins? Or somehow involved? Two against one was never a good move.

  Other pack members disappeared into the folds of the forest around me, and several howls broke out.

  My heart hammered against my
chest. Pushing past the wrenching waves of pain, I ran with a limp.

  Almost there.

  The wulfkin tracking Marcin bled into the tree line.

  I refused to look behind me. Who cared if I was the last one to leave the field, though I pictured Levin smirking and belittling my attempt. Son of a bitch. I gritted my teeth and pushed on. When I burst through the threshold of dense trees, I unleashed my inner wolf.

  She gushed free like an exploding dam—skin tearing, limbs stretching, jaw realigning. Shreds of clothing fell away. I threw myself forward, and in midair, chestnut and white fur bristled across my body. Gone was the cruel agony in my hip and the heaviness of my human form, now replaced by a light and refreshing surge of energy.

  I landed on four paws and launched ahead, swerving massive trunks.

  Marcin’s fresh kindling and musky scent led straight.

  Footfalls pounding the earth and heavy breathing echoed in the distance.

  With the stags released last night, they could be anywhere. The animals would head deep into the woods to a safe location. Their keen sense of hearing meant they’d detect anyone sneaking up on them and bolt, so the idiot wulfkin howling weren’t getting their prize today.

  Leaping over a log, I caught the faint whiff of something metallic. I smelled it again; the coppery tang of fresh blood coated my throat.

  Was it Marcin? Had those two wulfkin caught him? Images of Marcin bleeding to death and his stomach sliced open seared my thoughts.

  I bolted over the snowy ground, ignoring the branches and twigs snagging on my fur, poking my legs.

  Several paces away, I spotted it.

  Discoloration marred the powdery snow, traveling in a speckling path ahead of me. I inhaled the blood, its metallic fusion carrying the faint undertones of fresh kindling.

  Marcin’s blood. I’d recognize him anywhere.

  Several sets of paw prints, definitely wulfkin from the sizes.

  I burst after the trail, my body numb, my veins on fire.

  The weight of the world crashed onto my shoulders. I should have run faster and should have told him last night about the potential assassination attempt.

  I should have kissed him.

  Please don’t let it be too late.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Marcin

  I sprinted through the woods, my back leg burning. Sanyi—Father’s dungeon guard—had just attacked me, ripped at my leg with teeth, though I shouldn’t have been surprised the weasel played dirty. A quick glance behind me revealed Sanyi and his pal, Alex, chasing after me. I wanted to rip Sanyi apart. I wanted to make him pay for touching that kitchen girl. I wanted his blood. The desperation scorched through my veins.

  But two against one meant a lengthy battle, and I had a venery to win. That was paramount. No time to waste. When my quest was won, I’d claim the Transylvanian land for my brother and Daciana, making them untouchable by Father. It went against everything the great Varlac leader demanded, but fuck him. I just had to do a better job of convincing Father I was on his side. With recent actions involving the Turkish clan and Enre, Father had set in motion repercussions that could never be retracted.

  My paws sunk into snow with each hasty leap. The bleeding in my leg had ceased, but the stabbing ache traveling up my thigh hadn’t. The scent would give my position away to anyone determined to follow me.

  Behind me, the duo fell farther behind.

  I inhaled wulfkin scents to my right—not too far away. Better it stayed that way. Pine smells and timber prickled my senses, along with the musky, mothball stink of several red deer. But they weren’t my target.

  Sure, Father had confided in me where he’d released the stags. He’d sent several wulfkin into the woods last night to ensure the animals ran straight ahead, but they could have changed course by morning.

  The land sloped upward, and I dug my claws into the ground for leverage.

  Grunts and thunderous footfalls echoed behind me. A quick look over my shoulder—two wulfkin swerved through the forest, far enough back they wouldn’t catch me anytime soon.

  Closing in behind them was another wolf—white streaked with mocha. A smudge against the ashen backdrop.

  A part of me expected more than three suckers realizing I was privy to the stags’ direction. But with the heavy snowfall overnight, the tracks had been covered, and I still hadn’t caught one of the buck’s scents.

  Forget that. Go faster.

  The winds were relentless, shaking the branches overhead. Snow fell across my back.

  No stopping.

  The crisp air pinched my nostrils, but still no stag. Had I taken a wrong path?

  I fell back to a trot, catching my breath before breaking into short bursts up the gradually ascending terrain. Over the hill lay open land, free of trees in the near distance.

  My chest heaved for air.

  Behind me, no visible sign of my pursuers. Didn’t mean they weren’t near. The wild gusts of wind attested to their presence, faint, but there. Had they discovered the stag?

  I would have smelled them. But with the animals’ 310-degree view, sneaking up on them wasn’t an easy feat. I doubted they were out in the open. Deer remained in the woods to escape chilly winds and predators.

  A wolf’s piercing whine reverberated behind me. It had made the kind of sound belonging to an injured creature. My skin crawled. I turned around to a forest coated in snow.

  Snarls followed. Multiple. A fight.

  The air current brought with it several scents—definitely wulfkin, and one I recognized. Wolf swirled with honeysuckle.

  Selena!

  Terror sunk into my flesh, and my primitive instincts kicked in. I bolted toward the escalating commotion, half skidding down the slope. I swooped though the woodland.

  Where was she?

  My nose led me straight ahead. Fast and furious, I sprinted, kicking snow and ignoring the ache in my wounded leg.

  Fifteen paces away, I spotted three figures skulked in a circular dance. Selena was the brown and white wolf. The two others I recognized from Father’s pack. They’d attack anything in their way.

  Selena lunged at the black one, biting his front leg. She leapt back, licking her nose.

  A whimper came from the injured wulfkin. Not the one I’d heard wincing before. That was definitely Selena.

  The other wolf lunged and crashed into Selena’s side, bringing them both down. He pinned her beneath him, fangs inches from her jugular.

  Urgency pulsed within me as I lunged.

  Selena’s back legs kicked for purchase, but the beast on top of her wasn’t budging. The second wolf lay several feet away, whining from his injury.

  My sights targeted the wolf squashing Selena. I head-butted him in the ribs, sending him reeling sideways.

  He faced me ... teeth exposed, with drool dripping from them. A deep, menacing growl shook his chest. All show.

  No one touches my Selena.

  Fire bled into my veins, and I charged.

  At once, the culprit retreated, crouching low near a tree, a cry curling in his chest.

  I snatched the scruff of his neck in my jaws, bit down hard enough to hurt, but not to rip away flesh. A warning, loud and clear. Mess with me, and you’ll pay.

  The wolf dropped to his belly with his chin buried in snow, motionless. I released him. Only cowards ganged up in an unfair fight.

  He didn’t move at first, then scampered in a mad rush as he bolted away from me with his tail between his legs. Without a thought, I swooped in on the other wulfkin who was back on shaky legs and recoiling into the woods. A deep howl came from within, the sound vibrating across my chest.

  My head jerked around in Selena’s direction as she dragged herself to her feet, back in human form. Blood rolled across her back from a gash streaking her shoulder blade, a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin. Scratches and bite marks dotted her legs. My gaze curved over her full breasts, budded pink nipples, and a flat stomach, dipping lower to
the dark curls between her legs. I shoved my wolf aside and called to my human form, fur vanishing, bones cracking, spine straightening. My warmth ripped away.

  When Selena faced me, she wiped the blood dribbling from her scratched chin, her gaze wide, then her hands covered her mouth. “I thought you were ... dead,” she stammered. “Blood in your tracks. The wolves chasing you.” Her words sped up. “And I thought ...” Her gaze fell to my injured leg where Sanyi had sliced me open.

  She actually worried about me? Flutters of excitement raced through the pit of my stomach at the idea of her caring for me so much. “Thanks for looking out for me, but I’m fine. Are you all right?”

  “I had it under control.” She shrugged and continued wiping the blood with a palm.

  “If you’re hurt, I’ll escort you as far as the open terrain.”

  “Ha ha. You’re funny.” Selena stretched, hands pressed to her lower back, bones cracking. “I’m not tapping out because of a few cuts.” A faint breeze weaved past, throwing hair off her shoulders, displaying her in her full, gorgeous glory.

  This was the Selena I’d fallen for all those years ago—confident and brazen. But she’d never carried such sexiness.

  Goddess, I’d had so many fantasies about burying myself in her. And yet, here she stood naked. Blood raced to my cock, but one touch and she’d probably rip my arm off.

  “Enjoying the show?” she asked.

  My head shot up just in time to notice her gaze also lifting. “Are you?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe.” A wicked smirk split her mouth.

  Now, this flirty side of Selena was new, at least since arriving in Hungary. Was it the adrenaline of the fight driving her actions or her true nature surfacing?

  I moved toward her, our bodies so close that the fire on her skin leapt across to me.

  She lifted her chin, her inhales racing, her lips parting. The sweet honeysuckle scent fogged my mind, and I didn’t give a fuckin’ shit about anything right then, except Selena against me, us alone in the woods, the world as far away as possible, our problems a distant memory. My wolf was in my head, reminding me of our attraction, our connection, our future.