Blood Challenge

by Eileen Wilks

  “Wait, wait—can they see from the house? I can’t see the house from here, but—”

  “They can’t see.” Neither could the guards. He’d chosen this spot because he knew it was hidden from view.

  “You’re shaking.”

  “I thought you wouldn’t like it if I ripped your clothes. I’m trying not to.”

  “Oh. Good. I’ve thought about this, and I think you need to court me.”

  “Okay.” He pulled the T-shirt off over her head. This excited her hair.

  “That isn’t what I—oh!”

  He’d fastened his mouth on one nipple without waiting to remove her bra. This was stupid because he wanted her bra gone. Only he’d have to stop in order to remove it, and—

  “Benedict.” Her voice was breathy.

  He made a noise low in his throat and reluctantly released her nipple. “I’m sorry. I know how to go slow. I’d love to go slow, but I don’t think I can right now. If you—”

  “Pay attention.” Her hands dived for his waistband. She unsnapped his jeans. “I’m not sure how we’re going to do this out here, but I do not want you to go slow. I’m pretty sure I’d go insane if you tried.” Carefully she eased the zipper down.

  He flung back his head and gritted his teeth and thanked God she was careful. He wasn’t wearing underwear. “Like this,” he said thickly, and as quickly as possible he stripped off her jeans and panties, cupped her bottom in his hands, and lifted her off her feet. “We do it like this.”

  Her legs circled his waist. “Yes,” she whispered, nuzzling his neck. He probed and found her wet and ready and just as he was about to thrust inside, she thrust forward, and they were joined.

  He wanted to stay there forever. His body had other plans. So did she. She bit his neck and he growled and began to move, using the trunk to hold his upper body steady as his hips thrust and his hands held her to him.

  It wasn’t slow. It was more like grabbing on to a highspeed train headed straight for the edge of a cliff—if riding a train could flood every neuron in your body with need and pleasure so demanding you had no choice but to hold on, hold on . . .

  Until she bucked against him, crying out. And he could leap off that cliff after her.

  His legs buckled. He turned that into a controlled slide, lowering the two of them to the ground. His chest heaved. Her face was buried in the side of his neck, her hair spilling over his shoulder and chest.

  Benedict stroked that hair. His hand still trembled, but for a different reason.

  “Wow,” she whispered into his skin, then lifted her head. “You’ve got such big hands.” Her voice was soft and dreamy. “I never knew that was possible, what we just did. Such big hands.”

  Her face was a pale oval in the darkness. His hands smelled like her now. So did his body. His heart still thudded strongly in his chest, its earlier gallop slowed to a canter . . . and at peace. He smoothed her hair back from her face. “If I live another hundred years, this moment will remain clear and vivid for me.”

  She didn’t say anything, but she smiled.

  “What kind of flowers do you like?”

  “What?”

  “You want to be courted. I need to know . . .” He stiffened, his head turning.

  “What is it?”

  She hadn’t heard, of course. “My father. No, don’t panic, he’s not coming here. Shh.” He listened.

  Silence was not Arjenie’s strong point. Mostly she managed it only when a magical binding would not allow her to speak. But she distracted herself from talking by grabbing frantically for her jeans.

  But as Benedict had told her, Isen wasn’t approaching. He stood at the back door of the house and spoke softly, knowing Benedict could hear. First he apologized for the interruption, then he explained it.

  Benedict sighed. “Seabourne’s back.”

  Arjenie quit trying to wiggle into her jeans without standing up. “What did he find out?”

  “Not what we wanted him to.” Benedict hated having to tell her. “He couldn’t find your sister. The guest cottage behind Friar’s house is empty.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  ARJENIE had told Benedict that sex didn’t fluster her. That was mostly true, but it occurred to her as she put various pieces of clothes back where they belonged that everyone in that house would be able to smell what she’d just been up to. That was a level of sharing she was not used to.

  Everyone but one. Cynna had left, but as soon as Arjenie and Benedict went back inside, Lily and Rule emerged from the bedroom wing. She wore the man’s shirt she’d had on earlier with a pair of wrinkled slacks. And, of course, her sling.

  Isen looked at Lily and shook his head. “You did not hear Seabourne return.”

  “No, but Rule did.”

  Isen bent a look on his younger son. “I had hoped Lily would sleep.”

  “So had I,” Rule said dryly.

  “I will. Just not yet.” Lily turned a wide-awake look on Cullen and began asking quick, to-the-point questions.

  Arjenie paid anxious attention to his replies, but part of her noted that, in a room brimming with really bright alpha males, Lily was still somehow in charge. At least, she considered herself in charge—maybe not of the people, but of the questioning—and no one disputed her assumption.

  That was deeply interesting, but she couldn’t think about it now. She sat beside Benedict on one of the couches while Cullen explained what he’d seen, done, and smelled.

  Apparently Cullen had been studying Friar’s wards off and on for some time. He knew about the weak spot Arjenie had used, and that’s where he’d crossed, too, though his method was different. It involved him being able to see the wards and manipulate them directly, which was a very neat trick. He’d arranged to reach the little cabin unseen by having Danny intentionally set off the wards some distance away, drawing Friar’s soldier wannabes away.

  He was good with locks, he said, so when Dya didn’t respond to his soft call at her window, he’d gone inside the cabin. She wasn’t there. He didn’t find her clothes or other items that might have belonged to her . . . but her scent was all over the place. A clearly nonhuman scent. He’d Changed to better register it.

  The lupi all perked up as if that was important. What did she smell like?

  Rather like an otter might if you added cloves and subtracted fur. Also oily, he said. Oily like olive oil, with its bright green notes, though she was definitely a meat-eater.

  No, he didn’t smell spilled blood. Nor did he see any.

  Benedict squeezed Arjenie’s hand gently when he said that.

  Cullen had tried to track Dya’s scent. The strongest scent trail, he said, seemed to head to Friar’s house, but he couldn’t follow it far without being seen. He did not find a recent scent trail leading away from the cabin in any other direction. He’d waited in the cabin for an hour, hoping she might return. But when Danny set off the wards again as planned, he’d had to leave while he had the chance.

  Lily drummed her fingers on her leg. “The obvious assumption is that Friar moved her into his house. Sometimes the obvious is accurate. There was no sign of foul play.” She looked at Arjenie when she said that. “We’ve no reason to believe she’s been harmed.”

  Arjenie swallowed. She couldn’t even nod. The stupid binding wouldn’t let her agree with the fact that her sister existed.

  “That’s the obvious assumption,” Isen agreed, “and it may be what’s happened. However, there’s information you lack. I’ve had Friar’s place watched for several months.” He looked at his older son. “Benedict?”

  “Originally,” Benedict rumbled in his beautiful, deep voice, “we simply watched from the road to keep track of who came and went, particularly on nights when he held Humans First meetings there. It pays to know who your enemies are. When I looked over the lists my men kept, however, I noticed some anomalies. That’s when we decided to keep a closer watch.” He glanced at Arjenie. “A decision that led to my marking the location of the
wards three nights ago.”

  “What anomalies?” Lily asked.

  “Twice someone left Friar’s place who hadn’t been seen arriving. Once one of his lieutenants arrived—and was never seen to leave again, though he later showed up in Sacramento. It might be that my men screwed up either in observing or in recording what they saw. Or it might be they were right.”

  Rule spoke slowly. “You think he has some secret means of egress.” He gave his father a hard look. “I wasn’t told about these anomalies. About Friar being watched, yes—”

  “Which you hadn’t mentioned to me,” Lily said.

  “Which,” Isen said, “is one reason I didn’t tell Rule about the anomalies. He dislikes withholding information from you. Also, it seemed vaguely ridiculous. Why would Friar be sneaking people in and out through the wilderness? We were curious, so Benedict set additional watchers. We’ve had men observing Friar’s neighbors as well and the dirt road at the rear of the property.”

  “Last week, it happened again,” Benedict said. “Paul Chittenden left Friar’s house with Friar shortly before ten P.M. on a Tuesday. He was not seen to have ever arrived at Friar’s. It’s clearly possible to come and go from Friar’s without being seen—it’s rough country, with plenty of opportunities to hide. But you must make an effort to go unseen. Why would Chittenden enter in great stealth, then leave openly with Friar?”

  “What are you suggesting?” Lily asked, frowning. “That he’s got some sort of secret tunnel?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re kidding.” She frowned harder. “You’re not kidding.”

  “I consider it one possibility. A somewhat remote one, I thought, until now.” He paused. “She has an affinity for underground places. Under some of her names, she was a goddess whose worshipers built altars to her in caves.”

  Lily had a funny look on her face, as if she’d bitten into something nasty and wanted to spit it out. And couldn’t. “But we’re talking about Friar. She’s not here, so whether he’s hanging out aboveground or below wouldn’t affect her.”

  Isen spoke gently. “But she affects those with whom she has contact.”

  “She makes them start burrowing in the ground like moles?”

  “The Azá did, didn’t they?”

  “At the end, yes—because the node was in a cave. Plus they didn’t want to be seen opening a hellgate. Plus they had that whole religious fanatic thing going, so—”

  “Her agents may have solid, rational reasons for operating beneath the earth. That doesn’t mean they weren’t influenced by her.”

  Rule spoke. “If Friar has some sort of underground passage, we need to know about it, and we need to know why—because I’m betting that, her influence aside, he’d have a solid, rational reason. Something that advances his goals. We don’t know what those goals are.” He glanced at Lily. “The specific ones, that is. His general goal involves destroying us and probably the Gifted and others of the Blood.”

  All lupi? Everyone of the Blood, and all of the Gifted? That was a big step off a steep cliff. Arjenie had trouble getting her mind around that level of megalomania and malice.

  “You’re right that we need to know more,” Lily said. “I’ve got some ideas about how to go about that, starting tomorrow. Arjenie, we could use your skills, if you’re willing to help.”

  “Yes,” she said quickly. If it helped them find Dya, helped Dya, she’d do it. “That is—are you talking about my research skills, or my sneaking skills?”

  Lily smiled. “Research, for now. Here’s what I have in mind.”

  BY the time they broke up it was after one A.M. Arjenie was equal parts tired, worried, exhilarated, scared, confused . . . and eager to dive into what she knew best. This is what I need, she thought as Benedict escorted her to her bedroom. A day spent with facts, with her computer, would give her space to let some of this . . . this emotional overload . . . settle. She had plenty of ideas for how to find out some of the things they needed to know, and she had access to some kick-ass databases.

  “This meeting you were talking about,” she said as they stopped outside her room. “It’s a big deal, I guess, if you and Rule have to spend tomorrow getting ready for it instead of investigating Friar.”

  Benedict seemed abstracted. A frown lingered between his eyebrows as if it had drifted there awhile back without him noticing. “Isen has called an All-Clan. That’s a meeting of all lupi clans. Traditionally, we hold an All-Clan every decade or two. We aren’t due for one yet, but last year when the Great Bitch became active in the world again, Isen called for one.”

  “But the meeting day after tomorrow isn’t an All-Clan, is it?”

  “No. The meeting on Monday is between the Lu Nuncios of the dominant North American clans. Our neighbors, in a sense. If we can’t persuade our neighbors of the need for an All-clan, we’re unlikely to get one.”

  “Don’t they see the need? If there’s an Old One who wants to destroy you, surely they see the need to act together.”

  “There’s suspicion of Nokolai because of Rule’s unexpected elevation to Leidolf Rho. It creates a severe power imbalance. Nokolai and Leidolf are arguably the two most powerful clans, and have long been enemies. Think of how it would have looked to the rest of the world if, at the end of the Cold War when the USSR collapsed, the U.S. vice president suddenly became the Russian prime minister.”

  “China would have freaked. Are some of the clans freaking?”

  “A few. Even some of those who have long been friends of Nokolai are uneasy.”

  “How many clans are there?”

  “Twenty-four altogether. Eleven dominants, seven of them in North America—Nokolai, Leidolf, Ybirra, Szøs, Etorri, Wythe, and Kyffin. Kyffin is subordinate to Nokolai for a year and a day, which means until mid-November, so they’ll do as we bid. But they’re a dominant, so their Lu Nuncio must be included in the circle.”

  Arjenie had a feeling she didn’t use the word dominant quite the same way he was, but she let that go for now. That slight frown clung to his face as if he’d carried some worry for so long he’d forgotten how to stop. “You need to stop thinking for a while.” She took his hand. “Where do you sleep?”

  Now, that was a real, intentional frown—brows drawn down, his attention suddenly focused like a laser. “I have a place up on Little Sister. When I’m down here, I usually stay at the bunkhouse with my men.”

  She was going to have to lead him by the hand, wasn’t she? “Where do you want to sleep tonight?”

  “I don’t want to put pressure on you.”

  “I’m guessing you don’t want to insult me, either.” She gestured with her free hand. “I don’t know what this mate bond means to you. I don’t know what it means to me. I don’t know what it’s going to mean, or what I’m going to do. I do know we’ve got a problem if you don’t want to sleep with me.” She looked at him sternly. “And I’m talking sleep, not just sex. Though just is a silly word to use for what we did up against that tree.”

  His eyes kindled a smile that spread everywhere, smoothing his forehead, tipping his lips up, relaxing his shoulders. He smiled down at her like she’d just fixed world hunger . . . while begetting another type of hunger. He stroked her cheek, not saying a word. Smiling.

  She smiled back. She might have a huge list of things she didn’t understand, but knew one thing quite clearly: mate bond or no mate bond, she was in love.

  Arjenie tugged her lover into her room. And shut the door.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  “YOU’RE sure about this.” Lily clicked her seat belt in place.

  Cynna’s seat belt barely fit around her. She barely fit behind the steering wheel. “I asked Nettie months ago about driving. She told me not to hit anything and to pull over if I go into labor.”

  “Labor.” Lily took a deep breath. “I may hyperventilate.”

  Cynna chuckled. “Lily, pregnant women drive all the time.”

  “Okay. I just feel like I should be the one .
. .”

  “Driving? In charge?” Cynna started the engine and put the car—Rule’s Mercedes—in gear. “This is not news.”

  “I’m still in charge.”

  “Keep telling yourself that. You know how to use the GPS thingee?”

  “Sure. I sent the car the directions from Googlemaps. You just have to download it.” Lily leaned forward and pushed the “i” button. They were headed for Del Cielo, a tiny little mountain town. The quickest way there from Clanhome involved twisty blacktop roads. Lily had Googled their route earlier.

  “That is crazy cool,” Cynna announced. “Are you going to call Mariah Friar and let her know we’re coming?”

  “I did that, too.” Lily pulled her laptop onto her lap and opened it. “She’s waiting for us.” She could do a lot of things one-handed, like tapping out instructions for the computer. It was disconcerting, though, how often she started to do something and discovered she couldn’t. Or had to do it in a weird-ass, annoying way.

  Like getting dressed. Forget about wearing a jacket or her shoulder rig. The weapon she couldn’t shoot worth a damn left-handed was in her purse. But she could do most of the rest of it herself, except for her bra and putting her bad arm through the sleeve of a shirt. For today she was skipping the bra and wearing another of Rule’s shirts to conceal that omission. Rule had threaded her arm into the shirt’s sleeve for her.

  Showers were out. Washing her hair by herself was out. She could brush her teeth left-handed, but first she had to get the toothpaste on the toothbrush. She did still have a right hand, so she managed that, but she had to do it differently.

  Lily had experienced some of this last year, but it had been her left shoulder, not her right, and the damage hadn’t been nearly as bad. Maybe what was getting to her was not knowing how much function she’d regain.