Tempting the Dryad

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Tempting the Dryad Page 28

by Rebecca Rivard


  This was important. Dion, Rui and the other Rock Run fada needed to know that he accepted his brother as his alpha. Because he’d learned one thing in the last ten minutes: his Gift might make him stronger in some ways than Dion, but Dion was his dominant. He of all the people in the bar had been fighting the compulsion with everything he had, and Tiago—and his beast—acknowledged his strength.

  Because Dion had been winning.

  He dropped his gaze submissively, waiting for Dion’s answer. Inside, his beast did the same. Another first, and one which told him more clearly than anything that the beast had accepted his place—their place—in the river clan.

  Dion jerked his chin. “You have it, irmão.”

  “Good.” Tiago lifted his head and looked to where Jorge was still frozen in place. “Then I, Tiago do Rio, challenge Jorge Teles to a fight to the death.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The bar went silent at the deliberate invocation of his and Jorge’s true-names.

  Jorge’s lip curled but Tiago tightened his mental hold on him. He was damned if the man was going to escape him now.

  “Jorge Teles stole my mate,” he stated to the rest of the bar in a hard voice, “and scared the hell out of her with his threats—and he meant it. After he and his men were finished with her, he was going to throw her broken body to the fish. He also drugged me and kidnapped me—twice. His life is mine.”

  The older man’s chest heaved but Tiago refused to let him speak.

  Dion gave Jorge a hard stare. “You don’t deserve such an honorable death. But if that’s what my brother wants—”

  “No,” Rui growled. “I haven’t agreed to it. My claim is as strong as Tiago’s. I’ll go first, then Tiago can have his turn. If there’s anything left of the bastard.” His gaze raked scornfully over Jorge.

  Tiago held up a hand. “Remember five years ago when I helped rescue Valeria? You said then you were in my debt—that I could ask for anything, anytime. Well, I’m calling in that favor now. Jorge is mine.”

  “Damn you, do Rio.” Rui scowled, then heaved a breath. “But I meant it. I cede you the right of first challenge.”

  “Obrigado.”

  “Fine.” Dion looked around. “You heard my brother. You all can stay as witnesses—or leave. It’s up to you.”

  No one moved. The only sound was one of the earth shifters muttering into his phone.

  Tiago pulled Alesia aside for a quick, hard kiss. “Goodbye, querida. I’ll see you back at Rock Run.”

  “No.” She set a hand on his chest. “I have the right to witness this.”

  He could tell from her expression that was a stab in the dark, but she was right. The fada had an intricate set of rules regarding mates’ rights and interactions between males and females that kept the men from dominating the women too completely.

  He put on his sternest face and trapped her face between his hands. “I’m not giving you a choice. This is going to be a fight to the death. If you don’t want to return to Rock Run, you can wait at the clan’s rowhouse. Eliana will go with you, right?”

  His friend rolled her eyes, but said, “Sure.”

  Alesia lifted her chin. “No,” she said, her heart-shaped face set in stubborn lines. “I’m staying.”

  He swore under his breath. “And I say you’re going. Now.”

  Dion spoke up. “Actually, she’s correct, Tiago. As your mate she has the right to stay. Besides, this challenge is as much about her as you.”

  Tiago stilled. He’d just realized that nobody had seemed surprised when he’d claimed Alesia as his mate. “Dion knows, doesn’t he?” he said to her. “So you knew, too.”

  She nodded.

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “Apparently,” his big brother interjected, “she was waiting for you to figure it out yourself, idiota.”

  “I see.” He leaned close and spoke for Alesia’s ears alone. “When this is done, baby, we’re going to have a long talk, you and me—about why it’s not a good idea to keep things from your mate. Understand?”

  She licked her lips. “Yes.”

  His gaze followed that small pink tongue, and damn if he didn’t want to forget Jorge and drag her to the nearest dark corner and sex her brains out.

  But he needed to do this—for his own self-respect, but even more, for Marjani, Valeria and most of all, Alesia. His mate would never be safe with Jorge alive. None of their women would.

  “Fine,” he said to Dion. “Alesia stays. But you’d damn well better keep her safe.” He gave her a nudge in his brother’s direction.

  “É claro.” Dion draped a big arm around her shoulders, and Rui took a position on her other side.

  Tiago looked around the room. “The rest of you can remain as witnesses. But interfere and you’ll die—and it won’t be an easy death.” His gaze lingered on the Baltimore shifters. “Is that understood?”

  They nodded or grunted agreement and he said, “Good,” before looking at Jorge. “It will be a fair fight,” he promised, “no compulsion,” and released him.

  He sensed Alesia’s worry. He glanced in her direction and she had her fingernails dug into her palms, her lips moving as if she were praying. “Please. Please.”

  Tiago looked at Jorge. His animal stared back, his pupils a bright, unearthly green.

  “Jorge Teles, I challenge you to a duel.” Tiago spoke the ritual words. “To the death.”

  “I accept,” the other man said in a thick, barely understandable voice. “Tu estás morto. I’ll send you to Hades.” He extended his claws and sprang at Tiago, aiming straight for his eyes.

  Tiago lunged to the side, only just avoiding the long, wicked claws. Jorge stumbled forward, his momentum carrying him past Tiago.

  There was a cry of outrage from the watching Rock Run fada. In an instant, Rui had an arm around Jorge’s throat. He snarled and tried to break away, but Rui hung on grimly.

  “By Deus,” he ground out, “you’ll follow the rules or I’ll put a knife in your liver right here and now.” He shifted and Tiago saw the stiletto pressing into the right side of Jorge’s back just under his ribs.

  The entire room caught its breath. No one doubted Rui meant it. Tiago started to protest but the fada commander sliced him a look that made him shut his mouth.

  Jorge snarled.

  “Is that your answer?” Rui pressed the blade a little deeper.

  They all watched, even Tiago. If Jorge was that far gone, there was no sense going forward with the challenge.

  Jorge blinked and scowled. “No, damn you,” he said in a more understandable voice. “Challenge rules apply.”

  “Swear it,” Rui said. “And not on your true-name. On the god’s name. The old god.”

  “I swear, on Dionysus’s name.”

  “Bom.” With a curt nod, Rui released him.

  The other fada in the room fell back, forming a ring around Tiago and Jorge. Alesia looked anxiously from Jorge to Tiago, but she allowed Dion to position her a little behind him so she was shielded by his body.

  “Get ready,” Rui said. “Then wait for my signal.”

  Tiago nodded and stripped off his clothes, with Jorge following suit. It was a tradition that ensured neither combatant was concealing a weapon.

  Rui raised a hand. “Challenge rules,” he stated. “You’re all witnesses. Neither man leaves the circle until it’s over. Fight to the death.”

  Some challenges ended when the loser conceded, but no one expected Dion to let Jorge walk out of the Full Moon alive, even if Tiago lost. Jorge was a dead man—it was just a matter of how many men he took with him.

  Rui slashed his hand down, then stepped back into the circle next to Alesia.

  This time Jorge was more cautious, waiting for Tiago to make the first move. Smart. Tiago suspected that first quick, vicious attack had been intended to rattle him.

  They circled each other as the crowd watched in silence, save for the occasional grunt of encouragement or disple
asure. Tiago eyed his opponent. Jorge was four times his age, his body mottled with old scars and fresh bruises, but Tiago knew this wouldn’t be an easy fight. Jorge was a master of hand-to-hand combat.

  His words from long ago echoed in Tiago’s ears. Strike early and hard at whatever’s closest. And don’t be chicken-hearted. Aim to hurt your man.

  Tiago lashed out with his foot, aiming at Jorge’s knee. Jorge twisted out of the way but came back with a punch to Tiago’s gut. He jumped back and the blow glanced off him.

  They resumed circling. Jorge feinted left and then aimed a flying kick at Tiago’s balls. He turned aside just in time and Jorge’s foot slammed into his thigh instead—against a still-healing bruise. Tiago registered the pain in some dim corner of his brain but ignored it to move in on Jorge.

  They started fighting in earnest, exchanging hard, no-holds-barred blows: punches, kicks, head-butts. The circle surrounding them went silent. The only sound was the dull thud of flesh against flesh.

  Tiago saw an opening and lunged, but Jorge was waiting for him. His hand chopped down on Tiago’s neck just beneath his ear.

  Stars exploded behind Tiago’s eyes. He faltered and swayed on his feet. Jorge moved in with a flurry of blows. Tiago spun away, nearly falling into the ring of fada. Faces swung by like a bizarre merry-go-round: excited, grim, carefully neutral.

  Dion muttered, “Stay on your feet, damn you.” But Tiago saw the worry in his eyes.

  He sucked in a breath and caught his balance in front of Alesia.

  She was clutching Dion’s hand, her other hand pressed to her mouth. She made a small sound of distress, her big brown eyes locked on his—and the mate bond chose that moment to snap fully into place. There was a wrenching pull from him to her, so intense his chest ached. At the same time, her love and worry poured back through the bond to him.

  He blinked and staggered. Jorge shoved him from the side, sending him sprawling face down on the floor. The other man slammed onto his back like a ton of bricks.

  Tiago’s breath whooshed out. For a few seconds he was too stunned to move. Jorge shoved a knee into his spine and grabbed his chin, trying to break his back.

  Alesia whimpered. Tiago instinctively tamped the mate bond down as low as it could go. He couldn’t let her distract him.

  He slammed an elbow into Jorge’s ribs. He must have hit a sore spot because Jorge groaned and loosened his grip, enough so Tiago could twist onto his back.

  Jorge growled and clawed at Tiago’s face, slashing open his cheek. But his eyes were red, his face twisted into a feral snarl. He was losing control, his scent wild, almost all animal.

  Tiago’s beast rose in response. Tiago’s instinct was to tamp it down, too, but he realized the beast was open to him, willingly adding his strength and cunning to Tiago’s. And for his part, Tiago grabbed at the beast’s offering with both hands—because he’d suddenly realized how fucking stupid it had been for him to insist on fighting Jorge.

  It didn’t matter that Dion would defend Alesia to the death. If Jorge killed Tiago, she’d be subject to the living death of a fae whose mate has died too soon.

  Tiago had promised not to compel Jorge, but nothing said he couldn’t tap into the beast’s strength and add it to his own, just as he’d used its energy before.

  Something of the beast must have shown in his eyes. Jorge snarled but his scent was acrid with fear.

  Good.

  Tiago caught Jorge’s wrists and dug his thumbs into the pressure points between his tendons, using one of his own moves against him, until Jorge was writhing in his grip, desperate to get away.

  Tiago threw him off and jumped to his feet. Jorge came to his feet more slowly.

  Tiago waited until he was standing and then closed in, lashing him with a series of hard, methodical blows to his jaw, his solar plexus, his lower belly. Jorge slumped forward and Tiago saw his opening. He wrapped his arms around Jorge, getting him in a headlock. Jorge bucked and twisted in his grip but it was clear he was tiring.

  It was time to finish it. Tiago jerked Jorge’s head sharply to the side and back. His neck snapped and he went limp. Tiago let him slide to the ground.

  For a long moment, he stared down at his former mentor. He waited for a surge of triumph but all he felt was a hollow sadness at the end of the man he’d once worshipped with all the intensity of a young boy.

  His only consolation was that Jorge would’ve wanted it this way. He’d always said only a coward dies in bed.

  The Rock Run fada were congratulating him and slapping him on the back. Only Chico and Eliana hung back. For once, Chico’s handsome face was unsmiling, and Eliana was clearly hurt. Tiago knew he owed them an explanation, but right now Alesia was more important.

  He dragged in a breath and muttered some response to the men congratulating him, but his gaze was on Alesia. She looked back uncertainly, but he could feel the love pouring through the bond.

  Love for him.

  Grabbing his T-shirt, he wiped the blood and sweat from his face and chest before tossing it aside and crossing to where she waited with Dion.

  “You won,” she whispered as his older brother discreetly faded back. “You—you’re okay.” Tears filled her eyes. Her hands came up, stroking his face, his shoulders.

  “Alesia. Querida. Please don’t cry, baby.” He cupped her face and swallowed noisily. His chest warmed, the hollow feeling melting away under the love emanating from her. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. So sorry you had to go through that—”

  “Hey.” She touched his mouth, stopping him. “I was the one who insisted on staying. But now I want to go home, okay?”

  “Yes.” He rubbed his lips over hers, breathing her in. His cock rose between them, pressing against her belly. He was too much a fada to be embarrassed by a hard-on, but getting her alone sounded like an excellent idea.

  But how? Alesia could return to the island herself by jumping from tree to tree, but she couldn’t carry him with her—and he was damned if she was going anywhere without him. Besides, she was exhausted; he could sense it through the mate bond. Too exhausted to ’port herself that many times.

  He shot Dion a helpless look

  “Here.” His brother held out a key. “Take my bike. I’ll ride with one of the other men. It’s at—” He named a corner a couple of blocks away.

  “Thank you.” Tiago took the key gratefully. “For everything. I mean that, irmão. I truly am sorry, and I swear I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

  “We’re clear,” his brother said gruffly. “You only used your Gift to protect your woman. And when it came down to it, you didn’t do me any harm except to my pride. As for Rui, as your commander he can decide on his own discipline. But we both know he’d be dead if your heart had been in it. You stayed in control—even during your duel. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve proved you can control your Gift.”

  Tiago swallowed. He was starting to believe that himself, but it meant a lot to hear it from Dion.

  “Now get the hell out of here.” Dion slapped him on the back. Tiago tried not to wince; with the adrenaline wearing off, he was feeling every single bruise again—both old and new. “Your mate’s a tough little thing, but she’s had a rough couple of days. Get her home and take care of her. She’s the real gift.”

  “I know.” He met Alesia’s eyes and mouthed, “Love you.”

  She gave him a wobbly smile back and he sprang into action, releasing her to pull on his cargo pants and shoes. Claudio offered him a clean T-shirt with the howling wolf logo, which he was happy to accept.

  He turned to Alesia. She was trying to zip her jacket, but her hands were shaking.

  His heart wrenched. His poor little fawn. Reaction was setting in. He needed to get her back to her island and her tree as soon as possible.

  He brushed aside her hands and did up the jacket for her, then draped his arm around her shoulders.

  “Let’s go home,” he said, and together, they walked out of the
bar.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Dion scrubbed a hand over his head and watched Tiago and Alesia leave. His little brother—mated. Who’d have thought it?

  Rui had been helping Claudio direct the cleanup, but now he came over to Dion. “Hell,” he muttered in Portuguese. “That was touch and go there for a while.”

  “Sim. But you know, Tiago was holding back. Look what he did to Mys. That could’ve been us.”

  Rui rubbed his chest over the region of his heart. “Yeah. Remind me never to piss the man off.”

  Dion grimaced. Rui might’ve couched it as a joke, but it wasn’t, not really. And if Rui, one of Rock Run’s most dominant men and himself a former assassin, had that touch of fear, what about the rest of the clan?

  “Bad joke,” the other man muttered, reading Dion’s mind like the old friend he was. “He’ll be all right.”

  “I hope so.”

  He hoped like hell he’d done the right thing. But he’d meant every word he’d said to Tiago. He had a feeling that with a little work and a lot of encouragement, his brother would be an invaluable asset to the clan.

  But this wasn’t just about the clan—this was his kid brother, the pup he’d raised from the time he was ten. Dion wanted him to be happy—and if he had to knock a few heads together in order to make it happen, then he would. He’d be damned if he’d let Tiago be ostracized for his Gift.

  “People like him,” Rui said. “He’ll win them over.”

  Dion nodded. “You’ll keep an eye on him?”

  “Certo. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to beat his ass in hand-to-hand the first chance I’ve got.” Rui’s lips curved in an evil smile. “It’s good for discipline—and we can’t have him getting too cocky, not with a Gift like his.”

  Dion cast his friend a grateful glance. “Obrigado.”

  Rui was a well-respected member of the clan, especially among the men. It would help a lot if he treated Tiago as just another warrior.

  Claudio had softened enough to get everyone a round of beer. Rui accepted two foaming glasses and handed one to Dion.

  Rui took a healthy swallow. “At least I knew you were never in any danger.”

 

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