by Brenna Lyons
“Corwyn,” he shouted in warning as a beast suddenly materialized behind his grandfather.
As Hunter took the heart of the beast in front of him and his grandfather did the same, the new beast — the elder Lorian — thrust his hand through Corwyn’s back and ripped out his beating heart. Hunter tramped back his nausea painfully. He had never seen such a vicious, cold attack. Lorian smiled as he sank his fangs to drink from the still-leaking organ. Having drained it, he dropped it with a sickening splat next to Corwyn’s fallen form.
“A barbaric way to kill that I picked up from Resten,” Lorian informed the young Warrior. “It doesn’t give the rush of truly feeding, but it is quick and effective.”
“And doesn’t allow your mind to wander,” Hunter noted evenly.
“That does tend to leave one open to attack,” he admitted.
“I should probably remind you that Resten died at Pauwel’s hands for his barbaric ways,” Hunter warned.
Lorian scowled. “A lie told for more than fifteen centuries and no better a lie, now,” he decided. “Jörg had all but killed Resten already. Only the fact that he was constrained from doing so stopped him from taking the killing blow himself. He gifted your great-sire Pauwel with the killing blow on a half-dead beast elder to avenge himself.”
“Avenge? Why would Veriel want to kill Resten? You can’t even tell plausible lies.”
Lorian laughed bitterly. “For the loss of his woman, Jörg would kill anyone in his way. It was fitting that he should go beast. He always was a beast,” he finished distastefully.
“What woman? Veriel went beast before the battle. He had no woman,” Hunter countered.
“Oh, he did — taken deceitfully and in a beastly manner, but Jörg had her again and again. Gawen would have killed him for it, but luckily for Jörg, he went beast before that could happen.”
“You’re saying Veriel went beast because he would have faced Gawen’s blade for taking Regana?” Hunter asked in disbelief. Some part of him ached that Corwyn hadn’t lived to uncover the knowledge he sought for so long, the secrets of Regana and Veriel.
“No, Jörg didn’t care if he faced Gawen’s blade. Such was his madness, but Resten and Marclef threatened him with Regana’s death as well — for baiting him to madness. It was a lie, of course. Jörg was the source of his own madness.”
“Why tell me this, now?” Hunter asked in confusion.
“Marclef made promises to get his beasts.”
Hunter set his jaw angrily. “Your promised mates are long dead. You will not take my sister in the place of the one you were promised.”
“She is stone chosen to bear my children,” he decided quietly.
“She is stone chosen to bear children for whatever man she chooses,” Hunter countered furiously. “Do you honestly believe she’ll choose a beast that just slaughtered her grandfather?”
“With the proper incentive, I believe so.”
“What? Lies like Veriel tried to offer my mother?” Hunter scoffed. “Erin knows better.”
Lorian smiled rows of perfect, white teeth, his fangs hidden, looking charming in the illusion of a white mandarin shirt and dark gray suit that showcased his dark features, all traces of the blood that stained his face and hands moments before eradicated. “Call to her, Hunter of KreuzStütze-König.”
A chill rushed through Hunter’s gut. “Never. I will never betray Erin,” he gasped, praying he was strong enough to take what punishment Lorian was about to dish out for his refusal. For Erin. If Erin is safe, I can take whatever he does in stride.
“As you wish. Fight me, then.”
* * * *
Erin clapped her hands over her ears. The scream that ripped through the house had to be Hunter. She stifled a sob. Hunter could be an insufferable jerk sometimes, but he was still her big brother. He was still there to hold her when things got really bad.
She vaguely remembered two beast attacks. In one, Hunter hadn’t even started his training yet. Still, he held her with her face buried in his strong chest, someone’s spare weapon in his free hand, daring the beasts to try for her. Erin couldn’t have been more than four at the time.
The other time, Hunter was a proud first-nighted and blood-sealed young Warrior. Even so, he held Erin huddled to his side in the circle of one arm while both hands held his own weapons to defend her, as if the physical impossibility of defending Erin while she hung on him like that had never occurred to Hunter. She was nine that time.
Hunter cried out again, and she wiped away a tear. The house went silent, deadly still. Erin dragged down a set of training blades on a belt and strapped them on. She had an amulet to protect her, which was more than Hunter and her grandfather had.
She could admit that her hand-to-hand was almost non-existent, but Corwyn hadn’t trained her for close-quarters combat. He trained Erin for distance, for throwing. Her grandfather had assured Erin that she was fast and accurate enough to kill all but the most skilled beasts silently. She only prayed that whatever was out there wasn’t the most skilled.
Erin swallowed another sob. If it took out both Hunter and Corwyn— No, she wouldn’t think about that. She couldn’t.
She shook her head and made sure her weapons were ready. Taking a deep breath, Erin slid from the training room. They used this house in Hunter range at least once a year, so Erin knew very well which boards squeaked and where the best hiding places were. With her amulet to keep her off radar until she was seen physically— Well, she hoped she had a chance, anyway.
Erin made her way to the living room without incident. She stared at the carnage, feeling suddenly ill. The smell of beast blood turned her stomach, but the sight of her grandfather, crumpled like a yarn doll in a lake of his own blood with a gaping hole in his back, was decidedly worse.
Her stomach rebelled violently, and the force of controlling it left her shaky and cold. Erin couldn’t puke. The sound would draw them, and the stench on her would ensure that Erin couldn’t hide again.
She scanned the room, searching for Hunter, but aside from one of his discarded blades, she saw no sign of him. Erin furrowed her brow and headed across the hall. There!
Her brother sat on the floor, sagging against the sofa in the library. She could tell his injuries were serious. Hunter was bleeding from several different wounds on his chest and arms. A purple bruise marred his face just below the temple, and blood trickled down his jaw from a cut near the corner of his mouth. He appeared unconscious, though his left hand still held a blade cradled in it. Erin doubted Hunter could raise his arm with it, though. The damage seemed designed to render him unable to battle.
Erin bit her lip painfully. Had Hunter driven the beast to ground or was it carefully ghosted? If it was a trap, why didn’t the beast strike? Surely, it could see her now — but it can’t touch me. Erin could argue where the beast was ‘til the end of time and only cost Hunter his life, but it still couldn’t touch her.
She crossed the room to him, looking around nervously and wiping her sweating palms on her jeans. Erin knelt to check his condition. Hunter was alive, and he should continue to live unless more damage was inflicted before help arrived. His eyes opened as she pressed her hand to the worst of the wounds, trying to slow the flow of blood.
Hunter’s eyes widened and he swiveled his head, looking for his enemy. “No,” he breathed. “Go back. He wants you.”
Erin felt her blood chill, but that was hardly news. Of course, she was a target. Erin would always be a target. She shivered at the thought then startled as a feeling like a cold wind passed by her back. “Stop that,” she snapped at him. “I have my amulet. A beast can’t—”
She screamed in pain and fear as she found herself dragged away from Hunter by her hair. Her head slammed into the back edge of the sofa and her lower back into the edge of the seat as Erin scrambled for some purchase beneath her feet. Just as she found it, a long blade bit into her throat.
Erin flailed, trying to push it away, but it cut deep into
her hand. She threw the hand out toward the hilt of the sword, trying to touch the beast’s hand to force him away with her amulet, but her arms weren’t long enough to reach him. The same proved true for the hand that held her hair behind the couch. Erin sobbed hopelessly as she realized that the beast had planned this so that she couldn’t use her amulet offensively.
Weapons! Her father warned Erin that they had discovered the use of null weapons against the amulets, but this use of it was new as was using her hair to hold her. Hair was dead, she realized, like clothing was dead. Unless the beast touched her back or scalp in grabbing it, it was just another null weapon to him. Erin closed her eyes and promised herself a really short haircut if she survived.
“Your amulet,” a male voice purred. “Take off your amulet.”
Erin opened her eyes and tilted her head back to take in her attacker — and wished she hadn’t. Somehow, the beautiful face with the flashing white smile and the sleek black hair, the familiar warm, brown eyes of a Warrior, and the pristine suit that fit him as if tailored to him seemed more threatening than any nightmare her mind came up with. He looked about Hunter’s age, and his entire aura spoke of friendship and safety.
While he has a sword to your throat? Okay, that wasn’t the most intelligent observation she could have made at that moment. It’s just that he looks like a Warrior. You trust Warriors not beast elders.
His eyes caught her, soft, inviting eyes that sent a wave of warmth through her. Erin’s eyes suddenly seemed heavy, and her limbs were weighed down by exhaustion. She tried to fight them open again, but her eyes seemed intent on staying shut.
He was there, her friend, the one who would protect her. He was beautiful.
“Dade,” the boy sighed, close to Erin’s face.
He kissed her. His tongue was sweet and soft in her mouth, and she groaned as Dade pulled her to his body. Erin’s hands played over the strong muscles of his back. Was he wearing a shirt a minute ago?
“No,” he breathed, capturing her mouth again.
Dade’s lips trailed to her throat, and he licked at the blood mark there, sending shivers down Erin’s spine. His hands cupped beneath her buttocks and drew Erin up until she felt the erect length of him. Dade anchored her against it, and an aching warmth pooled deep inside her in response.
“My Erin.” His voice seemed to come from all around her.
His mouth continued its exploration of her blood mark, tracing it gently as Erin arched closer to that hard ridge pressing to her. She groaned her approval.
“No, Erin,” Hunter thundered.
Erin snapped awake, snatching one of her blades from its sheath and reaching to do damage automatically. She froze in mid-swing as his blade pressed deeper, uttering a strangled cry as it scraped flesh.
“Now, now,” the beast taunted. “It would be such a shame to sever that lovely head.”
“Better dead than had by you,” she panted.
“Really? I thought my little preview was better than that. You did enjoy it, didn’t you?”
Erin blushed. The beast knew she had. The damp heat still pooled in her, and he could surely sense that it was there. His mocking smile set off a series of muttered curses from Erin, and she glanced at Hunter miserably.
Her brother maintained a stony exterior, though she could tell he was boiling inside, an explosive Blutjagd burning in his skin. Erin could have lost herself in that lovely little daydream, if Hunter hadn’t helped her when he did.
Shame of how she had been tricked made her angrier. “It was a lie, beast,” she spat, trying to avoid Hunter’s eyes. “You can’t expect me to believe you’d treat me that tenderly.”
“You’d be surprised what I’d stoop to for the chance to have you for my own,” he crooned.
“Nothing wonderful, I’m sure.”
The beast sighed. “Perhaps not,” he decided. “I could, however, maim you, mar your beauty just a bit. If I take your arm above the bracer, you’d be mine immediately — and completely unprotected.”
Erin looked at him in shock, suddenly certain that the beast meant it. He really meant to take her arm if she left him no choice.
She tried to calm her breathing. He would hold that as a last resort. They had time. Someone could get to them. The beast would have to release her to fight — or run. Oh gods, something! He couldn’t hold her hostage forever. The sun would rise. Maybe on Erin’s dead body, but it would rise.
Hunter swore fluently, struggling toward them. The beast’s sword flashed to draw a deep cut on his shoulder. Her brother ground his teeth as he fell back, but Erin’s scream was loud enough for both of them. She bucked the beast’s grip on her hair, feeling the burn in her scalp as hair ripped away in small patches. The beast swung the blade back to her throat, scraping off more skin as he convinced her silently to still. The metal came to rest under her chin, pulling Erin’s head up at an awkward angle.
“As I thought,” he mused. “You’re prepared for me to harm you. Your brother is your weakness. I’m glad I kept him alive.”
“Erin knows better,” Hunter groaned. “She’ll let me die first.”
“Is he right, Erin? Would you let him die for you?”
Erin felt tears escaping down her cheeks. She looked at Hunter out of the corner of her eye, unable to turn her head far enough to face him, now. His eyes pleaded with her.
“Yes,” she choked out. “It would be my duty.”
Hunter nodded his approval.
The beast growled in frustration. He lunged the sword deep into Hunter’s shoulder. “Can you watch him die, Erin?”
“No,” she screamed, twisting, trying desperately to reach the beast with her blade, but he had her pinned effectively.
Hunter lost consciousness again.
The beast chuckled. “Yes? No? Which is it, Erin?”
Erin lunged for him again, but he dragged her braids behind the couch, slamming the back of her head into the wood frame.
Damn this long hair! Inspiration struck. She glanced at him, wondering if he could stop her. If he was distracted— “You’ve killed him,” Erin wailed, making her voice as shrill and panicked as she could affect.
“He’s not dead,” the beast snapped.
His eyes flicked to Hunter, and she took the opportunity to spring into action. Erin yanked her head forward and sliced the razor-sharp training blade through her braids as close to her scalp as she dared. Freed, Erin slid to the floor, the beast’s roar of rage making her heart stutter.
He lunged at her, and she sliced wildly, tearing his face open with her blade. Erin grimaced at the splash of foul blood that ran over her hand and arm. She rolled away under the coffee table, as the beast drew back, then sliced off the three braids he had missed when he grabbed her for good measure before coming up again. As she came to her feet, the beast dragged his sword from her brother’s shoulder and swung back.
“You want him dead, Erin?” His dark eyes glowed the yellow-red of embers and his fangs extended. “I’ll take his head and drink him dry for you if you like. Will you yield?”
Erin looked from the beast to Hunter and back several times. Either option was unacceptable. He was obviously a very high-level. He touched her mind despite the amulet. There was no way her thrown weapon would suffice.
“Erin,” the beast barked. “Make your choice. I warn you that you will be mine either way. Will your brother die for no reason?”
She shook her head slowly and stepped toward him, keeping her mind closed tight. Erin had to get close to pull this off, and she couldn’t let him know what she planned. The beast watched her with cold eyes and a colder smile. She shuddered at the thought of actually having those lips on her throat as he did in that little vision of his. Her only hope of avoiding that was pulling off this one damned desperate scam.
Erin reached the couch and looked down at Hunter sadly. If this didn’t work, they were both as good as dead. The beast would either kill her or take her arm off for the amulet. She hoped he’d kill
her, but she doubted he’d be so kind.
“The amulet,” he reminded her. “Mustn’t forget the amulet.”
She fumbled at the buckles. The tears on her cheeks weren’t part of the act. Nor were her shaking hands. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was frowning at her progress. Damn! She needed his guard down.
Erin growled in genuine frustration. She took the weapon from her left hand and worked it beneath the first strap on the bracer, sawing it slowly. If he didn’t relax his stance by the time she reached the second strap, she and Hunter had real problems.
Her shaking intensified as the first strap broke free. Finally, she saw it. The beast set his sword tip-down on the floor and leaned on it. She met his eyes miserably as she extended the blade toward the second strap.
Locked on his eyes, Erin lunged at him, bracing her left hand behind the hilt to drive her weight into the blow. He had little time to react. The blade slid home inches from a killing blow. She dragged back on it as she moved away, opening a deep gash. It would bleed heavily. If she could get him to lose enough blood, he’d go to ground.
The blow he dealt her made him stagger back from the force of the amulet and threw her back over the coffee table. Erin landed hard, groaning at the pains shooting through her shoulder on impact.
The beast’s sword came up again, and she flipped her blade and let it fly. Her aim was far off, but it planted solidly in his chest again. She pushed herself to her feet painfully, while he stared down at her blade in disbelief. He ripped it free with a snarl and threw it across the room, embedding it in the wall.
He was bleeding heavily from all three wounds, now. The sword was drawn back again, and she sobbed in exhaustion.
Just enough time to bleed him to ground. Am I asking too much, here?
Erin launched herself over the coffee table and onto the couch, bracing her arms out toward the beast. He looked at her in shock as if attacking a beast empty-handed had never occurred to him. She bit back a peel of hysterical laughter. She had to be insane to be doing this, but some part of her couldn’t stop. Erin needed the time to bleed him to ground. This was all she had left. She couldn’t trust her arm for another throw.