Arthur, Keri - Beneath a Rising Moon.txt
Page 30
her parents’ opinion. Wouldn’t change her refusal to walk
away from them completely.
She bit her lip, her gaze moving past the trees and
spying a flicker of gold in the darkness. “Stop,” she said
quickly and was out the door before Ronan even touched
the brake.
“Neva, wait,” Savannah cried.
She stopped on the verge of the road. She wasn’t a
fool. If Iyona and Betise could overpower someone like
René, what hope would she have against them?
The night was cold and still, the snow beyond the road
powdery light, glittering brightly under the moon’s harsh
light. The nearby trees cast deep shadows, and the smell
of pine and balsam was rich in the air. She sniffed deeply.
Behind those two scents was another. A warm, woody
aroma that sent the blood pounding through her veins.
Duncan was here somewhere. And so were Betise and
Iyona, even though she couldn’t smell them.
The other trucks pulled to a halt behind them, and
men poured out. Savannah stopped beside her, sniffing
the air lightly. “I can’t smell them.”
“Duncan’s here. Betise will be, too.”
Savannah looked past her, and Neva followed the
direction of her gaze. Zeke Sinclair walked towards them,
his stride long and powerful, his angelic face
expressionless, and his dark eyes shuttered. For one
moment, he looked so much like Duncan her heart ached.
Behind him were two shadows who were just as potent,
but who were hiding their anger less skillfully. Tye and
Kane.
Zeke stopped in front of Neva. The sense of his power,
the sheer force of his masculinity swept over her, and yet
didn’t stir her. She glanced at her sister and saw that
Savannah was similarly unmoved. Which was a good thing,
but odd, given the night and the moon.
“Where?” His voice was sharp. Abrupt.
Neva pointed to where she’d seen the brief flicker of
light, and mentally passed the image and the information
on to Savannah. “About half a mile in.” How she’d managed
to see the light from such a distance she didn’t know. Nor
did she care. Not if it freed Duncan.
Zeke looked at Savannah. “How do you want to do
this?”
“Neva suspects Betise will try to perform the ritual of
promising. If that’s the case, they’ll more than likely be in
a clearing. We need to get René free first, then we’ll
surround the clearing and get Duncan out.” She hesitated,
her green eyes narrowing. “No accidents, Zeke. I want these
two women alive.”
Zeke raised his hands. “We have no weapons.”
“A wolf doesn’t need a weapon to kill.”
There was nothing warm in Zeke’s sudden smile. “I
will protect my sons, Ranger, no matter what your rules
say.”
“You can protect all you want. Just don’t kill.”
Zeke’s gaze flickered to Neva, studying her so intently
she shifted uncomfortably. After a moment, his smile
became warmer. “Perhaps I won’t need to. There are other
emotions, and other players, here tonight.”
Heat touched Neva’s cheeks. She had a horrible feeling
this man saw far more than normal men, and in her case,
that he saw the feelings she was trying hard to ignore.
She pulled her gaze from his and glanced at her sister.
“You want me to lead?”
“You take Ronan and the Sinclairs and head to the
right. The rest of us will head left.”
As she nodded she glanced at the sky. The moon was
bright, and magic was beginning to stir the night. If they
didn’t hurry, they’d be too late.
She shifted shape and lunged forward through the
soft snow.
***
It was the cold that woke Duncan. It surrounded him,
filled him. He frowned but didn’t move, allowing awareness
to surface fully as he listened to the night. Someone
breathed close by, someone whose scent was all too
familiar, and relief surged. René.
He cracked open an eye. They were in a small cave.
Warm shadows danced across the walls, flickering shapes
that indicated a fire was close. Naked, his brother leaned
against the opposite wall, his eyes closed, though he wasn’t
asleep. The tension riding René’s bruised and cut
shoulders told Duncan that much. René’s hands and feet
were tied with chains that gleamed silver in the night,
and the bandages over the gunshot wound were bloody,
an indication that the wound had opened again.
Anger surged through Duncan, but he thrust it away.
Right now, anger wasn’t going to help either of them. He
glanced down at himself. He was also naked, though he
couldn’t have been undressed for long, because he could
still feel his fingers and toes. Hypothermia was a ways off
yet. But he had a fair idea why they were both naked, and
what Betise intended to do. Tonight was the night of
promises, and that mad bitch was undoubtedly going to
try to raise the magic.
Worse though was the fact he was also tied with chains,
and if the warmth against his skin was anything to go by,
those chains didn’t just look silver, they were silver. Which
meant neither of them could shift shape until the chains
were off, as silver was the one metal immune to magic of
all kinds. He moved his arms, trying to find some give in
the looped chains and work them loose.
“I wish you luck,” René said quietly. “Because I
certainly haven’t had any.”
Then the two women had been less careful about tying
him, because the chains weren’t as tight as they had been.
“Are you all right?” Though Duncan asked the question
softly, his words seemed to echo in the cave, and outside,
someone stirred.
“Yes. Though I have to say the moon dance is not much
fun when you’re just a body and not a willing participant.”
“It could be worse, Brother.” And probably would get
worse, unless he could find a way out for both of them.
He very much doubted that René had been taken just as
a hostage. There were two women and two of them, and
this was all about revenge. Revenge for past wrongs.
Revenge for promises never made.
And what better revenge was there than to bind
yourself to a man who hated you?
A shadow loomed across the wall, shifting from wolf
to human shape. He craned his neck to the left and
watched Betise enter. Like them, she was naked. Oddly
enough, her body was covered with a white powder, and
he couldn’t smell her. He couldn’t smell Iyona, either,
though she was undoubtedly just as close.
Betise’s gaze met his, green eyes glowing like ice in
the darkness. “The time has come to keep your promises,
Duncan.”
“Tell me first why you killed those women.” Not that
it really mattered now. He just needed to buy more time.
Time to loosen the chains some
more. Time for his father
and brothers to track them down.
She shrugged. “Kill the competition, give the dance a
bad name, and my chances of catching a Sinclair mate
rise, don’t they?”
Only a crazy woman would believe that. “So why make
it look like they were raped?”
“To confuse the rangers. Worked like a charm, too,
didn’t it? They were so convinced it was one of you Sinclairs
they didn’t even bother looking for other possible culprits.”
“So why attack yourself?” It was a guess, but a
reasonably safe one.
“Neva told me her sister was waking. I knew if the
ranger remembered the attack, she’d know it was a female
who attacked her, not a male.” She shrugged again. “I
was hoping it would throw everyone off, but it didn’t. You
suspected me, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Though not of the killings. Not at first.
She nodded. “I smelled you in my hair salon, you
know.”
“Is that why you got rid of the wig?” Surprise flitted
across her face, and he smiled coldly. “I fished it out of
the river, Betise. Savannah has it.”
“You lie.”
“It doesn’t matter if he’s lying.” Iyona stepped out of
the shadows, a rifle held steadily in her hands. A rifle that
was aimed straight at René. “The time of promising has
come.”
“I made no promises to Betise. I never will.”
“You will if you want your brother to live to his time of
promising.”
His gaze flicked to hers. Where Betise’s gaze was crazy,
Iyona’s was hard. Intent.
“This will gain you nothing.”
“You’re a Sinclair, and the Sinclairs owe me.”
“My pack had nothing to do with what happened to
you.”
“You’re all Sinclairs. I don’t care which pack pays me
what I am owed.”
“And what the hell are you owed, Iyona?”
“A name. A child. A comfortable lifestyle.”
The woman might not look mad, but she was every bit
as insane as her daughter. “Neither René nor I can give
you a child. That’s taken care of every moon dance.”
Betise snorted. “You taking bets on that fact?”
He stared at her, a sick sensation in his gut. “What
are you saying?”
Betise’s smile was contemptuous. “That I tampered
with one box of injections. Twenty, in all, I think. The
good doctor keeps meticulous records, and I knew René
was being done early. But if I’d known you were coming
back, I would have tampered with yours, as well.”
Relief slithered through him. At least he didn’t have
to worry about Neva being pregnant. They might have
performed the moon ceremony and, for all intents and
purposes, be married, but right now, they did not need a
child. Not when they were still very much strangers, and
she was still wary of both him and her feelings.
“The surgery is locked. How could you possibly get
in?”
Betise arched an eyebrow. “Through the tunnels, of
course.” She glanced at René, a cold smile on her lips.
“You really should work on your shield, you know. Your
mind is such an easy read when you’re dancing.”
René didn’t even bother opening his eyes as he said,
“I will never give you a child.”
“My dear boy, you probably already have,” Iyona
commented dryly. “And not only Betise, but me and your
other half dozen partners as well.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.” René’s voice was cold. Harsh.
“Martin is not the fool you think him to be. He saw the
box had been tampered with and got rid of them.”
Betise stared at him. “You’re lying.”
René opened his eyes and looked at her. His dark gaze
was as hard as the rocks behind him. “Am I?”
Betise studied them both for a second, her eyes
gleaming moon bright in the night. “Get up, both of you.”
If they were ever going to escape, it had to be now,
when the two women were overly confident and before the
ceremony was performed. While he could not get caught
by the promising ritual, René could. And he knew René
would say the words and link himself forever with a bitch
like Iyona, if it meant saving Duncan’s life. He glanced at
his brother’s set face, eyebrow raised in question, and
saw the barest nod of agreement. He pushed back against
the wall and struggled to his feet. “The promising ritual
won’t work, Betise.”
“If you don’t say the right words, René is a dead man.”
“Better a dead man than being bound to dead-smelling
flesh,” René commented as he struggled upright.
“Dead flesh that you will be bound to for eternity,”
Iyona snarled.
“Over my lifeless body.”
“Or your brother’s.” The sound of the safety clicking
off seemed to echo ominously in the cavern. “We’re not
overly fussy about which one we kill. All we want is a
child, so we can claim our share of the Sinclair fortune.”
Duncan couldn’t help the harsh laugh that escaped
his lips. “Do you really think our father will acknowledge
any child you two bear?”
“Blood is blood, and everyone knows Zeke is an old-
fashioned wolf. He’ll support the get of his sons.” She
stepped to one side. “Now move, both of you.”
Duncan shuffled forward until he’d moved up
alongside his brother. They shared a brief glance, and as
one, walked clumsily forward. The chains around their
legs clinked softly, the bell like sound covering the noise
Duncan made as he slid the loosened chain from his arms
and caught them in his hand.
In that same moment, awareness surged through his
mind. Neva was close. He couldn’t smell her, but he could
feel her—in his heart, with his soul.
Neva?
Here. So is Savannah, as well as your father and
brothers.
How far away?
Not far. Why?
Hurry. He didn’t tell her why. Didn’t have the time,
because they were too close to the two women. If they
shuffled forward any farther, Betise would see his hands
were no longer tied. Tension emanated from René, telling
Duncan his brother was ready to move.
“Dive low,” he said and swung the chain, lashing it
around Iyona’s face and neck as René hit her low and
hard, sending her sprawling backwards. Her scream was
a high-pitched sound of pain and fury that got lost in the
sound of a gunshot.
René grunted, but Duncan had no time to see if his
brother had been hurt, because a snarling fury hit him
hard and sent him sprawling backwards.
Teeth tore into his shoulder and arm. He hissed and
thrust his hands between them, grabbing Betise by the
throat and forcing her back, away from his neck. Saliva
dripped from her huge jaws, splashing across his chest
as she snarled and snapped and twisted
, her strength
almost as great as his own. Her nails tore into his bare
stomach and cut down his side as she scrambled to gain
purchase against him. Her eyes gleamed with malevolent
fire, and he had no doubt that she intended to kill him.
Not because she hated him, but because she loved him.
Because he wouldn’t—couldn’t—love her.
He thrust her back with all his force and lunged
sideways. The rush of howling air told him she was closing
in again. His nails dug into the cold dirt floor as he wrapped
his fingers around a rock. With a grunt of effort, he swung
around, smashing it across Betise’s snarling snout, beating
her away. Her growl became a yelp of pain as she leapt
out of his reach. He let go of the rock and reached
desperately for the chains around his feet. He had to work
them free so he could move. Could change. Claws
scrambled against dirt and stone behind him, then air
rushed over him. He threw himself sideways, punching
upwards at the silver form that flew overhead. His fist
sank deep, but she didn’t seem to feel it, twisting in midair
so that she landed facing him. With one bound, she was
on him again.
He thrust his hand out, his fingers digging into her
thick neck, his whole arm trembling with the effort of
keeping her snarling, snapping canines away from his
throat.
Warmth flooded across his skin, and a golden haze of
energy covered her form as she shifted shape once again.
He bucked, trying to get her off him, but she screamed, a
sound so high-pitched it hurt his ears. Then her knee
found his groin. Pain flooded him, an all-consuming red
haze, and suddenly it was all he could do to even breathe.
Energy rolled across his skin again, then she was on him
in wolf form, tearing into his shoulders and chest.
Somehow he forced his arms between them and
pushed her back. Her teeth sank deep into his forearm, a
sharp pain that battled the deep ache in his groin. He
swore and thrust two straightened fingers deep into her
throat. She coughed but didn’t release her hold, worrying
at his flesh like a dog with a bone.
He swore again and punched her across the ears. She
shook her head, sending saliva and blood flying, but she
didn’t let go. Just kept tearing and gnawing at his arm.
From out of the night came a flash of gold that hit