She was nothing to him, a human girl, and her blood would make good sacrifice to sate the savage hunger of his children. The image that flashed through her mind was not pretty, and she squeaked with terror as she tried to shove it from her thoughts. There was nothing appealing about being torn to bits by wild beastmen.
The sudden rustling of leaves and branches on her left was loud as cracking thunder and when the stag darted out of hiding and onto the path just in front of her, she swore her pounding heart exploded in her chest. Then its rhythm fell into pattern with the pounding hooves of the deer and for a strange, fleeting moment she and the frightened deer were one.
Save for their conjoined footfall, the woods around her and the deer were still, so quiet she thought she could hear frogs croaking above the ragged gasp of her desperate breath. Her lungs burned, the cold, damp air weighing them down inside her chest, but she wouldn’t stop running until she was dead.
A lone wolf bayed, the chilling howl carving through the night in such a way that suggested it belonged there, that the night itself had been fashioned to carry that song of praise to the three moons in their full beauty.
She was running into that song, blazing toward it, and soon the beast that sang it would be in front of her and there’d be nowhere to run at all. The wolves were close, so near she swore she could smell them on the shifting wind, but there was no time to give into the fear of facing that monster. Like the stag that led her, she would run right into the U’lfer’s arms and let them tear her limb from limb like the distant cousin twice removed from Cottar Ewland’s story.
The deer darted into an open field just ahead, its white coat shining like silver in the vivid moonlight spilling into the vast, endless glade she could see through the thinning branches. If she followed, she would be exposed, out in the open until she could cross into the woods on the other side and disappear again. The dogs might not follow her that deep, but she couldn’t hide from the U’lfer. She was on their land, in their woods and Master Davan said the penalty for trespass was death.
No matter where she went, she was going to die. The madness of that realization weakened her knees and she stumbled a little. She didn’t want to die. She was too young to die. There were so many things she still wanted to do, and if Trystay was bringing war to Leithe, who would take care of her little sister?
Lorelei’s foot caught on a thick root jutting up from the earth and for a fleeting moment she felt completely weightless as she soared through the air. She tried to think quick, to tuck in upon herself so she would land without breaking any important bones that might prohibit her from getting back up to flee, but she hit the earth faster than she expected, and her lungs seized upon impact. Choking to gasp for air, she soon forgot she couldn’t breathe when her forehead cracked against a stone stuck in the ground.
Lorelei saw stars, bursting flashes of the most intense and beautiful light that seemed to pulse in unison with the thunder of her racing heart. As she tried desperately to blink those stars away and shake off the spinning in her head, the deer’s hoof-fall still kept pace with her heart, dashing, running, fading until she was alone. Directly above her the white moon swelled, its silver belly pregnant with the most peaceful, beautiful light. She felt her hand lift from the cold, muddy earth, toward that moon as though it could save her, and for a moment she thought it actually would.
With every pulse of painful starlight inside her throbbing skull, the darkness that followed grew longer, but if she could just hold onto the warmth of that moon’s light.
“Madra,” she whispered, a hoarse sound that barely penetrated the night.
Beams of silver beauty stretched toward her, and she swore she could feel them tingling in the tips of her fingers, empowering her and willing her to rise, to get up and keep moving. She struggled, her other hand grasping for something, anything, a root to hold onto as she pulled herself up, but only cold mud squished through her fingers.
The scuff of a desperate cry scraped through her throat, frustration mingled with fear. Blood dripped down her face, burning in her eye as it splashed across her lashes and blurred her already hazy vision when she blinked.
Spinning, she was spinning, her head floating and swirling and swimming away, and she was tired. So tired. Maybe if she just laid down her head for a moment to rest, she could find the strength she needed to carry on. The mud was cool against her cheek, but her blood was warm and she could feel it puddling beneath her face. So much blood, flowing fast, growing cold.
The snuffling of a wet nose through the bloodied tangle of her hair froze her where she laid. The beast sniffed, pressing his cold muzzle against the nape of her neck as if looking for the perfect place to tear into her. Bracing herself for the pain that would surely follow, every stiff muscle in her unmoving body clenched in anticipation of that pain, but the beast only sniffed, hot breath huffing through its teeth before a dribble of saliva slipped down her shoulder.
It whined, took two heavy steps backward and raised upright onto its hind legs.
Lorelei could barely turn and lift her head, but from the corner of her eye she clearly saw it bathed in moonlight, silver gleaning on fur as black as pitch. The massive paws just inches from her face belonged to no dog, at least not a dog in the traditional sense.
U’lfer; werewolf. The warm blood in her veins ran cold, and her entire body went rigid and stiff with terror.
A second beast loped into the clearing on all fours, skidding to a stop beside the wolf looming over Lorelei and standing upright. It snarled viciously, but the first wolf silenced it with a rattling clash of its jaws. The smaller beast took two steps back, its bright blue eyes never leaving the prey on the ground.
Lorelei’s lips parted, a scream edging at the back of the throat, but the U’lfer raised their maws to the moons and howled in unison, sending waves of terror through her so strong she could no longer hold on. She battered furiously against the blanket of darkness drawing up over her body like a loving mother tucking her precious child in to bed for the last time.
Just before the darkness claimed her, she heard the sound of a horn and the hounds rushed into the clearing. Their terrified whines yielded to pain-filled yelps as the U’lfer charged into action. Lorelei closed her eyes for what she was sure would be the last time, and the warm silver light edged through her lids, filling her body and carrying her away from the terror of her own impending death.
At least she wouldn’t feel it, she reasoned, and then her world went dark.
CHAPTER TWO
Scattered canine corpses littered the clearing, the froth and clot of their blood painting the two wolves red as the last yelp of the only hound that escaped dwindled into the night in answer to the call of a distant horn. His broad back rose and fell with every breath, and soon that was all he could hear above the heavy hammer of his own heart in his ears. The beast threw back his massive shoulders and roared triumph to the three moons, his howl joined by the musical tone of his sister and ringing like a death knell through the night.
Then all was silent save for her breathing. Ragged but steady, she was still alive and Finn was relieved. He dropped back onto all fours and loped toward the limp body sprawled in the mud, the tattered fabric of her red dress splayed awkwardly around her, he felt the strangest urge to cover her, not just to keep her warm, but to protect her from prying eyes. Not that there were any, other than Rue, but if those who pursued her dared make their way into that clearing…
Shaking off that thought with a gruff rumble, spatters of blood flew from his thick black coat and dotted the bare skin of her legs and arms like freckles. It wasn’t likely they would pursue her. In the melee he’d torn the hounds that chased her to pieces and sent the last one limping back to its masters. In the distance he could hear them, their searching voices echoing through the tangled trees. They would turn back when they saw all that was left of their hunting pack.
He was drawn back toward her, his feral gaze scanning the disastrous remains of his
rampage before finally falling back in to scan the only living aura among those bodies. Her essence glowed vivid blue among the scattered red and black smears of blood painting the clearing; shocks of silver light pulsed dangerously slow through her core. Dipping his head down to inspect her more closely, he snuffled his snout through the loose tendrils of sweat and blood-soaked hair clinging to her fragrant neck.
Jasmine. White lavender flowers. Sweat. Blood. All of it mingled with the fading essence of fear. Human… no, not quite. Traces of something else, something familiar, lingered in her blood and it took him a moment to recognize because it was a smell that was difficult to distinguish from his own.
U’lfer.
Like him… but no, not entirely. She was something different, something unlike anything he’d ever tracked before. Somewhere under the surface of pale, freckled skin was a beast unborn, asleep though restless, as if it knew not how to rise.
He knew about her kind, and though there was a momentary twinge of prejudiced derision, it was almost instantly replaced by fascination. She was half-bred; either her mother or father had been U’lfer, like him, and though her kind had once walked freely among the U’lfer, many of the half-breeds disappeared after the War of Silence, never to be heard of again.
He’d caught the barest whiff of her on the wind—distinctly feminine and arousing in ways he’d never experienced. Mingled with the scent of fear, it was a dangerously erotic combination that stimulated more than his appetite for the hunt and for a moment every muscle in his body tightened in anticipation. Of what, he didn’t know, but the subtle tugging in his groin spread quick as fire into his belly, coursed through his blood until every part of him was infected with need and the overwhelming urge to find the source of that smell.
His.
Whatever that scent was attached to it belonged to him, and in that moment the only thing he knew was that he had to find her, save her, protect her, claim her. Without even a signal to Rue, he dashed into the forest, on the hunt for something so much more than game.
Withdrawing to inspect her, his eyes told him she was only a girl, unspoiled by the touch of a man. Her essence burned pale silver, not red the way his sister’s did, confirming her virginity and making that tight part of him pulse with desire unlike any he ever felt before. He’d smelled it in her blood on the wind, tasted it her fragrance, which overpowered the thick stench of death and bloodshed all around them. He could actually taste her on his tongue, and then he’d felt it. The frantic pace of her heart pulsed in time with his—thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
Tilting his head curiously downward again, his long tongue swept out to taste the blood, sweat and tears on her cheek, but as soon as he drew his tongue back into his mouth to savor and identify it, a heavy force dove at him from his left and drove him rolling through the bloody remains of the hunting pack that chased the girl into their clearing.
Snarling, snapping, gnashing, biting, the two wolves tumbled and battered against one another until the female pinned her brutish brother beneath her and growled displeasure. Her black fur shone blue beneath the moons’ light, and her sharp teeth gleamed brilliant white as she leaned forward to show him she meant more than business. They were only supposed to chase the hounds from their land, but he let the beast inside take over and he destroyed them in a raging frenzy their kind rarely, if ever, gave into anymore. Her thoughts mingled with his for the first time since the rage overtook him. Scolding, angry, regretful that whatever emotional nonsense clouded his judgment that time had ruined another perfectly good hunt.
The hunt, a small reminder of who they were supposed to be, it was all Rue lived for, and she was always trying to pass that love onto him, but there was so much more to life than the hunt, especially for an U’lfer. The hunt paled in comparison to what they denied themselves. Why didn’t anyone but him ever see that? They had the capacity to be savage warriors, conquering kings, but the council culled their nature, forcing them to hunt only for food when absolutely necessary to the survival of their village.
They were never to kill for sport, not even in self-defense. And they were never to take the lives of any creature that crossed into their lands for fear of bringing the wrath of the king that lorded over them.
For a moment he let Rue think she’d won. He relaxed the tightness from his muscles and just stared up at his sister, mouth open in an oafish leer, loose tongue lolling beside his cheek. His unwillingness to take the mess they were in seriously only further incensed her fury. She batted her paw across his shoulder, sharp claws scraping through fur and into the flesh beneath it, but he did not yelp. He would not give her the pleasure. Instead he used the stinging pain of her claws upon his flesh to incite the rage still boiling beneath his skin, and with a fierce growl he threw her off. His echoing roar trembled through the dwindling leaves in the trees.
Somewhere in the distance, the only living hound whimpered.
Watching as her body sailed several feet away, Finn turned onto his side before she tucked and rolled into a defensive stance to glower at him. The smell of her anger was strong on the wind, but he ignored it.
He closed his eyes and struggled against the change. He writhed and groaned in agony as the bones and muscles reformed and retracted beneath his skin until the only part of the beast that remained was the brutish, angry spirit that paced inside him. Once the beast had been allowed to rage, it burned restless and bitter when caged again within the flesh. He panted and gasped before sucking a steadying breath in through clenched teeth.
His beast was more than just a little restless and bitter; it was furious.
“Don’t touch me again, Rue!” he roared over his shoulder. “I am not a pup for you to lead around in chains anymore.”
He didn’t watch her transform, but could hear her struggling to regain human form as he stalked back toward the broken body lying face down in the leaves. In nothing but his skin, he knelt over the stranger, completely unashamed of his own nakedness. With a gentle, bloodstained hand he reached to turn her onto her back. Her skin seemed to hum in answer to his touch, tingling beneath his fingertips, and when he saw her face again, he swore the breath caught in his throat.
He’d never seen her before in his life, but every part of him felt as though he knew her more intimately than he knew himself.
She wore nothing but a red slip of a gown, torn and muddied, as if whatever chased her into their woods had dragged her from some elegant party. Parts of her that he had no business seeing were exposed on account of the lack of fabric and the abundant tears in it. Even her feet were bare, bruised and bloodied from a long, desperate chase.
A thick black stream of blood poured from the deep gash in her forehead. Trickling rivulets of red mingled with the watered down flecks of mud that stained her face. She looked like a nightmare, her skin so ghastly white it terrified him, but he could see the beauty lingering beneath the caked mud and smears of horror that colored her pale flesh. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and she was… his. Hands shaking, he lifted a finger to brush away the damp locks of mud-caked hair webbing across her face, his touch lingering for a moment over her soft cheek.
Mine; she is mine.
Shaking that thought from his mind, he attempted to assess the situation with a clear head. He almost laughed. A clear head was something he’d never known. His mind was a constant muddle of images and thoughts, actions and reactions, and he always just let them flow. But this was different. He couldn’t let his sister know what he was thinking. If she even suspected the strange feelings of attachment he was experiencing toward this stranger, she would do more than just rake her claws across his chest.
“What are you?” he whispered.
“Looks like a dead girl to me.” Rue’s shadow blocked the light of the moons, fell over the girl and darkened the bright perfection of her face.
“No.” He shook his head, a sweaty wisp of black hair falling into his face. “Not dead.” He’d almost said not a girl
, but how could he possibly know that for sure? She smelled human, but there was something else in her blood, something familiar, something savage that whispered words to his soul he couldn’t understand.
Why couldn’t Rue smell it? She was a master huntress, could track a rabbit to its warren from five miles away, but she seemed completely unaffected by the power he could feel in that girl. Rue had known others like that girl, before he was even born. Surely the familiarity of her scent was not lost on his sister’s keen senses.
“Well, she will be soon enough. I can smell death on her. Leave her,” she said. “We need to secure the perimeter. Drive whoever owns that pack of hounds you just tore apart from our lands before they come looking for their dead girl and lay her murder on our doorstep. The last thing we need right now is an inquiry.”
“I won’t leave her here to die,” he refused.
And that was exactly what would happen to her if they just walked away. That beautiful little flower would breathe her last and her pale face would haunt his every moment until the day he died. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to take her home.
“I… I just can’t.”
His hand fell away from her cheek and he tucked it gently behind her neck before sliding it further in to lift her upper body from the mud. He shoved his other arm beneath the backs of her thighs and then heaved her weight against his chest as he rose.
“I’m taking her to Rhiorna. She can heal her.”
“Are you stupid? Wait, don’t answer that,” Rue smirked down at him. “Leave her, Finn. You know the laws. She is an outsider. She has no place here, and if she dies on our land, that is her own fault. Besides, what is that old witch going to do? Nothing. She hasn’t done anything useful since…” Her words faded into the low whisper of the wind, but Finn didn’t wait for her to finish.
Edgelanders (Serpent of Time) Page 3