by Tabke, Karin
“Precisely. It is why I have the power and you and your chosen one are bound in silver chains like hogs going to market.”
Lucien crawled up a piling fifty yards down from where the Slayers held Rafe and Anja hostage. As the packs gathered around him, he gave them instructions, and they quickly got to work.
Shifting to wolves, with their jaws, they picked up the poisoned swords they had brought with them by the hilts. And like shadows, Lucien followed by the two sergeants at arms went one way, and the poison-sword-bearing packs back to where they had just came from.
Stealthily, Lucien made his way to the dockmaster’s shack, rendered the guard unconscious, and snatched the keys for the giant crane midway down the pier and the two semis parked beneath the guard shack.
Before he slipped from the guard shack, Lucien shifted to human, disarmed the alarms, and tossed keys to Joachim and Anton.
“Drive the semis full throttle down the pier straight into those bastards,” he whispered.
As the diesels roared to life, Lucien leapt the entire thirty-yard distance to the large crane operator’s deck. In seconds it roared to life.
That ring had better have enough power to save your ass, brother, because I’m going to level that deck and everything on it, Lucien warned.
Manuvering the controls, he unlocked the heavy chain with a one-ton metal hook hanging from the end. In a deadly swath he whipped the heavy hook around, and as it swung dangerously across the deck, crashing into and toppling several containers, the semis barreled directly at the Slayers.
The bastards scattered as the Mack trucks headed straight toward Rafe and Anja, who were tied together and hanging like a smoked ham from the smaller crane near the metal sword container. As the heavy chain and hook came lumbering around toward them, Lucien roared and leapt from the operator’s seat to the lumberous hook as it wobbled wildly out of control. Grasping the chain for balance, he hunched down as it swung directly toward his brother who struggled to get out of the silver lasso cocooning him and Anja. Just as Lucien reached down to grab him, Rafael burst out of the chains. Grabbing Anja, Rafe leapt high into the air and grabbed the chain above Lucien as it swung backward, then slid down onto the hook beside him.
Once Rafe was safely out of harm’s way, the remaining pack rose from the darkness and hurled the poison swords at the Slayers as they reestablished their dominance on deck. Within minutes dozens dropped to the concrete, immobile. The packs swarmed on Corvus and his remaining men.
In a tidal wave of furnace-grade wind, the Slayers rose up into the night and disappeared.
Dumbfounded, Lucien and Rafael stood silent on the swaying hook, staring at each other.
“Holy fuck,” Anton, Rafe’s sergeant, whispered.
“I can’t believe they just disappeared like that,” Rafe said. He jumped down from the hook where it hung several feet above the concrete dock. Extending a hand to Anja, he helped her down.
“Are you okay?” Rafe asked her.
“I’m fine,” she answered obviously more than a little shaken.
Lucien hopped off the hook landing beside his brother.
“What just happened?” Anja asked, shaking the cobwebs from her head.
“Thomas Corbet rose from the dead and is talking about raising more dead,” Lucien said. “He must be stopped.”
“Ghost walkers,” Rafe whispered. “There are hundreds if not a thousand slain Slayers.”
Fuck.
“Falon! She has seen them in her dreams!” Lucien exclaimed.
“What are you talking about?” Rafe asked skeptically.
“Not Slayer souls but Lycan souls slain by Slayers. They speak to her. I know it sounds crazy, but she told me they come to her, begging her for something. It’s resurrection they want.”
Lucien paced excitedly back and forth. “It makes sense that if there are Slayer ghost walkers there are Lycan.”
Rafe’s heart thudded violently in his throat. In that instant he knew if Falon were capable of resurrecting the ghost walkers, those souls that had been slain by a Corbet, that meant . . .
“Mother and father,” Lucien whispered, stopping in his tracks staring at Rafe.
Afraid to believe, Rafe closed his eyes and heard his mother’s voice begging for her life as Thomas Corbet skinned her alive. It had been the most disastrous day for Vulkasin, the imprint of the horror forever seared into his soul. His vengeance against all things Corbet exploded that day, mushrooming out of control. Like Lucien, Rafael would not rest until the entire bloodline was exterminated.
His heart softened as he dared to think of what the future may hold. His parents rejoining them in this life? His heart hurt it was so full of emotion. He dared not hope. Dared not—
“Falon is key—to everything.” Including Rafael’s heart. His gut rolled nervously as he remembered the night he first set eyes on her. She had been terrified, bloodied, broken, and at master Slayer Viktor Salene’s mercy. She lay at death’s door. He had given her his own breath. Taken her home as the beast within drove him to mark her. But his human wanted her, too. And that night, Rafael’s entire world had shifted. It had yet to right, and as long as Falon lived, his world would always be off balance. She did that to a man. It was what he wanted more than his own life.
But Lucien had messed it all up! If only he had just left well enough alone!
As if reading his thoughts, Lucien’s golden eyes burned furiously as he turned to face Rafe. They were equals in everything, including their unshakable love for the enigmatic woman who stood between them.
“We can stand here and beat the shit out of each other or we can track Fenrir down and get Falon back,” Lucien said.
Rafael leashed his anger. His brother was right. All that mattered now was Falon’s safety. Turning toward his pack, singling out Anton, Rafe said, “Take the swords to the rendezvous point in Lodi, then prepare the pack.”
Lucien nodded and said to his own second, “Joachim, gather Mondragon, prepare for the rising as we have planned, then head to the battleground.” He clasped Joachim’s good hand. “Gods willing, I will see you in the north with Falon by my side.”
Lucien grabbed a leather satchel, his cell phone, and iPad from the semi they had driven in to load the crates into. He stripped and shoved his electronics, clothes, and boots into the satchel, then handed it to Rafe, who did the same before turning to Anja.
“I cannot promise you that I can protect you from Fenrir,” Rafe said, wanting her to stay behind. As much as he wanted the extra help, he didn’t want Anja’s. And selfishly, if she were not there, he would feel free to do so when he took Falon protectively into his arms.
Touching his cheek with her fingertips Anja smiled sadly. “Perhaps I will protect you from that terrible wolf.”
Rafe grabbed Anja’s hand and slowly lowered it to her side. “You deserve to be loved completely, Anja. I’m not that man.”
“In the eyes of the Blood Law you are, and that is enough for me.”
Rafe let out a long breath not wanting to waste time arguing. He handed her the leather bag, then looked to his brother as they both strapped on their swords and leather scabbards. “Let’s go.”
Four
SOMETHING IN THE universe had profoundly changed. Falon felt it down to the marrow of her bones. Her body vibrated with energy. Her senses were on fire, the scents swirling around her so clear, so strong, so defined, it hurt. As the breeze swept across her skin she shivered painfully as if every nerve was exposed.
The strong cadence of her heartbeat thudded around her, the percussion pounding in her ears.
Yet there was another heartbeat. It was louder and strong, but not stronger than hers.
She opened her eyes and stared into two intense red ones.
“Fenrir.” She breathed in awe. Unmoving, she sta
red boldly as he shifted from the deformed hunchback wolf into the human version of it.
“You do not fear me?” he demanded quietly.
If she said she was not afraid she would be a liar. He was hideous to look upon. His face long, his jaws thick, his yellow teeth jagged and sharp. Mostly rough bumpy skin was smooth in patches with tuffs of wiry black hair sprouting like weeds along his arms, chest, and neck. He was easily twice her size.
She gasped as her memory came crashing back with the velocity of a meteor entering the atmosphere. Balor’s brutal attack on them in the container full of the poison swords. He had killed Anja and slit Falon’s throat!
Dear God, what happened to Lucien and Rafael? Her temples suddenly began to throb. Rubbing them, she closed her eyes. She had been dying, bleeding out. It had been so peaceful, no pain, except the desperate pleas from Rafa and Luca for her life . . .
Falon gasped, her eyes flying open. In his desperation to save her life, Rafael released Fenrir, and he slew Balor and that witch!
“Where is Lucien? And Rafael?” she demanded, pushing up from where she lay on the ground. It was cold, dark, and barren. Raising her nose, Falon inhaled the crisp coolness of the air. The sky directly above was a sparkling blanket of sapphire and diamonds. A star exploded and shot higher into the deep blue canvas, its radiant gold vapor trail winding behind it.
Great Spirit Mother, give me the strength to thwart this wolf!
“They are dead to you,” Fenrir growled viciously. “I forbid you to say their names in my presence.” He leaned into her, his hot putrid breath laving her cheeks. “And if you call for either one of them, I will destroy them both.”
Falon blanched at the deadly threat. But it was not enough for her to roll over and play submissive. “They will come for me. You cannot stop them.”
“I stopped them once, I will stop them again.”
“By Blood Law you have no right to me. I belong to both alphas!” Falon blinked as she said the words. Because Rafe had been vindicated by the truth that Mara was a Slayer, she still belonged to him. Didn’t she? But she had traded marks with Lucien as well. Was their union null and void? Desperately, she didn’t want her union with Lucien to be dissolved. But because Rafe exchanged marks with Anja would the Blood Law take the Siberian wolf’s side?
Falon’s heart thundered in her chest. Gods help her, but she would fight to have them both.
Fenrir threw his hideous head back and roared with laughter. “Do you think I care about the Blood Law?”
Blood drained from her cheeks. “What do you care about, Wolf?”
He smiled, the gesture grotesque. “Siring the most powerful pack on earth.”
“For that you’re going to have to find yourself a willing partner.” Because it wasn’t going to be her!
“Willing or not, I have found my true mate.”
Foreboding swept through her at his implication, but Falon kept her composure. “You’ll have to introduce me to her one of these days.”
His grotesque smile widened. “It would be my pleasure.”
Slowly, Falon inhaled a deep breath centering her anxiety. If this wolf thought for one minute she was going to—she shivered, unable to comprehend such a thing. Slowly she exhaled, and deeply inhaled again. As the air entered her body and was absorbed into her bloodstream, her cells sparked with energy. Fenrir was powerful, but he was not omnipotent.
Mentally she checked herself for pain or injury. Not a scratch. Far from it. She felt amplified. Electrified. Stronger than ever. The blood of the two alphas had infused her power significantly, but there was something more. Different. Mystical. Dark. Her urge to kill heightened. Her lust for the hunt unnerving, the yearning for blood unquenchable. But not for Slayer blood . . . Lycan.
Falon gasped.
Her desire to hunt her own kind, to crucify them then infuse her body with their blood was so overwhelming she felt faint. Dear God! What had happened to her? Had Fenrir forced his hatred for Lycan into her?
In a hideous revelation, her memory provided the answer. Balor Corbet’s blood now ran through her veins. It had restored her life! Did she now possess his hatred for those she loved? And his dark magic? Shivering violently, Falon fought back the nausea that rolled through her. Corbet blood had destroyed so much of what Mondragon and Vulkasin held dear and yet that same villainous blood not only saved her life but had enhanced her senses to such a dizzying height she could barely control it.
Her beast snarled defensively at the evilness that prevailed within her. It would not be! She would never hurt a Lycan intentionally. She loved her people. Would die for them. For their cause.
It took all of her strength and concentration to center herself, to regain her composure. To tell herself that her Lycan blood was stronger than any Slayer blood that ran through her veins. Her love for Lucien and Rafael would trump any hate forced into her. Whether forced or accepted with open arms, the power of the three united was omnipotent. It could not be defeated. Not by Fenrir and certainly not by the Corbet blood that coursed through her veins. She was Lycan born and Lycan she would stay regardless of whose blood saved her life!
Ignoring Fenrir’s menacing growls, Falon cautiously stood and wiped the dirt and brush from her clothing. The deformed wolf man moved closer posturing as if he meant to keep her captive. Falon flung her hands at him and to both their shock, his four-hundred-pound body moved back ten feet. Deep furrows etched in the early autumn earth, disrupting the pungent dirt.
“Do not crowd me, Wolf.”
He snarled and snapped at the air, his unsightly human face elongating to that of a wolf before reverting back to human. It looked as if the wolf lacked self-control. She’d tread lightly but bravely and use that against him. What had both Rafa and Luca told her with regard to sizing up a threat? Show no fear and you open no door for attack.
“Why am I here?” she demanded, knowing the answer. When the deformed wolf did not immediately answer, Falon calmed herself and gauged her location, looking around the wooded glen that shielded them from the thicker surrounding forest.
Moonlight struggled through the thick copse of trees surrounding them. The scents were different though not unpleasant. Falon knew she was hundreds of miles north of home.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Where it will end,” Fenrir said smoothly. His eyes glittered, and Falon knew by their glow there was more to his answer. “And”—he breathed, stepping closer to her—“where the new dawn of the Lycan nation will begin.”
Her heart kicked against her rib cage. Did he mean—? “You will fight with us and not against us?”
A deep rumble began in his belly, echoing throughout his body before surfacing as laughter.
“The only us surviving the rising will be you and me, Falon.”
For the second time since she came to, Falon’s blood frosted. Life without Rafa and Luca was not an option. Life without her mother, Talia, and all the others she had come to love and respect was not an option. Life with Fenrir on any level was out of the question.
She needed to get the hell out of there and find Rafa and Luca. Together they stood a chance. Divided they would surely die.
“We’re going north to the battleground?” Falon asked with a nonchalance she didn’t feel. From beneath hooded lashes she judged the distance from where she stood to the thickest part of the forest just ahead of her and behind Fenrir. In such a restrictive environment, she’d have the advantage of being smaller and nimbler over his larger and slower. Yawning, she stretched her arms over her head and flexed her legs. The tightness in her heavy muscles loosened as electrical pulses sparked throughout her. She felt lighter than air but stronger than a superhero. She jumped and to her amazement soared higher than the tallest tree.
Fenrir snarled beneath her. And as easily as if she were a bubble floating
by, he caught her with his huge hand and brought her carefully back to the ground. So much for him being slow on the uptake.
“You’re strong, but I am stronger,” he rumbled staring hotly at her.
“Why am I here?”
For a minute that stretched out like an hour, Falon watched the terrible wolf struggle for words. If she didn’t know of his savagery, and his hatred for his own kind, she might almost find it endearing that he seemed to actually look as if he were shuffling his feet and about to ask her out on a date.
When his eyes fixated on her and the spark in their red depths flamed, she knew a bloodcurdling fear she had never experienced before.
“I have chosen you as my life mate.”
Exhaling a long breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, Falon bit her bottom lip as she fought back laughter. He looked like a lovesick puppy. If she spoke now she’d laugh and if she laughed . . .
“You mock me with your eyes,” he snarled.
Teetering on hysteria, Falon struggled for composure. He was so imposing. Terrifying in his fury, but the human part of him was as vulnerable as any man’s heart. And it was that human vulnerability she would exploit.
“So, all of this is about you wanting me?”
He nodded.
“Why me?”
“You are of both bloods and pure of heart.”
It was true that both alphas’ blood coursed through her veins. Pure and powerful, it would pass to her children. Her hand slid down her belly to the babe she knew with gathering certainty grew within her. Pure of heart? Maybe in the sense that the hatred between Lycan and Slayer had not been bred into her. She had learned it, though. She despised Slayers with a vengeance equal to Rafael and Lucien’s. A vengeance so pure it contradicted the dark Corbet blood that infused her power.
“I cannot bond with you, Fenrir. I carry the heir to Mondragon.”
“A lie!” he roared, moving so swiftly to her, she blanched in fear. No longer gentle, he grabbed her by the neck and pinned her to the cold forest floor.