by Tabke, Karin
His hearing, however, was crystal clear. Wherever he was, the scampering of rodents down the hall and the crisp wind as it rustled leaves outside was as distinct as if those things were under his nose. He opened his eyes and smiled. Fissures of energy snapped and crackled around him, showing him portals to smaller more intricate forms of energy. If he didn’t know any better, he would say he was tripping. Had the venom done this?
He raised his head from Lucien’s shoulder and looked across his chest to Falon’s beautiful face. His blood warmed at the sight of her and his cock— Jesus, even half dead and nearly delirious, he couldn’t control his primal reaction to her. She was so damn gorgeous. He loved her spunk and sarcasm and the way she surrendered everything to him as if he were the only man in the world she would ever love.
He scowled when he thought of the third person in their relationship. Unwanted jealousy snuck up on him. He wanted Falon all to himself. He didn’t want to share her on any level with anyone. Not even Lucien who he loved second only to Falon.
He frowned thinking he had gotten past the jealousy. His frown deepened when he thought about everything they had been through, how could he deny his brother the right to love the woman Lucien loved above all others? How could he deny Lucien the same thing Rafe wanted, needed more than the air he breathed?
The answer was simple. He couldn’t—certainly not after suffering the loss of Falon once before. It had nearly destroyed him. It would do the same thing to Luca. He couldn’t stomach it. Wouldn’t.
Hell, he still couldn’t believe what he had agreed to!
It was unorthodox at the very least, and it would not go over well with the packs but at this stage of the game, when the three of them had gone through so much together and he and Lucien had since they were born, it was time to stop the infighting. Falon was right when she said they were beyond teenage jealousy. They were three powerful alphas, and damn if they weren’t omnipotent united.
The clock struck again. It was almost midnight. “Falon,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “We don’t have much time.”
Lucien roused himself at Rafe’s voice. When they locked gazes, a shit-eating grin split his brother’s face. Lucien laughed, and slapped Rafe hard on the back. “I knew you’d pull through!”
“Rafa?” Falon asked, running her fingers over his face, and checking for herself that he was living, breathing, and warm.
Slowly, Rafe stood, drawing her up with him. “What happened?” he asked her.
“The chains. They turned into cobras. One bit you.”
“I remember that. And I remember going down. Now I feel energized, and kind of trippy.”
When Falon glanced at Lucien and his brother nodded, Rafe’s suspicions were piqued.
“What happened?” he asked again, and realized as he asked the question that the little girl they had rescued was missing. “The little girl, where is she?”
“She, um—” Falon swallowed, and looked to Lucien for help.
“You were dying, Rafe, and the poison Falon sucked out of you affected her, too,” Lucien explained. He exhaled and shoved his fingers through his hair, and continued, “That prick Corbet showed up and proceeded to inform us that the spell could only be broken with an antidote he conveniently was in possession of.”
Like a nest of angry hornets, Rafe’s rage swarmed his body. “And out of the goodness of his heart he gave it to you to save me and the baby?”
“He wanted the girl in trade,” Falon injected.
“And you gave her to him?” he asked incredulous.
“Turns out that little girl is his daughter. He wanted her back,” Lucien explained.
Rafe’s jaw dropped. “That’s impossible, she’s Lycan.”
“That’s what I said. But if Corbet of all the Slayers in the world hooked up with a Lycan then I believe others could have, too. Corbet even said there were other hybrids out there.”
Rafe jammed his fingers through his short hair unable to comprehend what Lucien was saying. “I don’t believe it. Slayers revile Lycan, and Corbet most of all. I don’t believe for one minute he would lay with a Lycan . . . or more precisely, that a Lycan would lay with him.”
“Why is that so hard to believe, Rafa?” Falon said, her voice shaking. “Love has a way of transcending the most bitter hatred.”
He looked down at her impassioned face. She believed this crock of crap?
“No! No Lycan would lay with a Slayer. It’s forbidden!”
“Unless she was raped,” Lucien said. “Which would not surprise me in the least with Corbet, but I can’t see him touching a Lycan for any reason except to inflict pain.”
“Rape isn’t painful?” Falon challenged.
Lucien shook his head and gently smoothed his knuckles across her cheek. “I didn’t mean that, angel face. I can only imagine it must be the most horrific pain a woman could experience. I meant to torture and kill.”
“I don’t believe it. I’ve seen the hatred and the unmitigated pleasure that bastard gets from killing Lycan,” Rafe defended. “He’s never discriminated male, female, or children for that matter.”
“I believed him, Rafa,” Falon said. “And I believed him when he gave his word she would not be harmed.”
It was too much for Rafe to process: Corbet lying with a Lycan. Never!
“Maybe he used black magic like Mara did to hide who he really was,” Lucien said.
“I don’t believe that for a minute. Corbet detests Lycan.” Rafe looked pointedly at Falon. “He hates with every part of his being. He will kill the child,” he simply stated. But he saw the doubt in Falon’s and his brother’s eyes.
“Do you wish her dead, Rafa?” Falon asked horrified. “Because she is half Corbet, half Lycan?”
“No, I don’t wish death on any child, not even a Slayer.” He took Falon gently but firmly by the arms and defended his position. “Even so, my brother and I gave our blood vow the day our parents were killed that we would eradicate the world of every last drop of Corbet blood. Nothing has changed that.”
“Then you would kill her?”
“I would keep my blood vow to my parents.”
He watched the color drain from Falon’s face. When her knees buckled he caught her in his arms. She hung limp as if she had no power left in her.
“Put your arms around me, baby, and hold on tight,” he said softly.
He was surprised to see the tears swell in her big beautiful eyes then slowly track down her cheeks. His brows furrowed in confusion. He was completely at a loss. “I’m sorry my answer wasn’t what you wanted to hear, love, but you’ve known from the beginning how I feel about Slayers in general and Thomas Corbet specifically. He killed my parents—in the most horrific way imaginable. For that, he and his entire bloodline will pay.”
He gathered her closer, and kissed her nose. “If any Corbet survives the rising, they will continue to perpetuate the hatred that has propelled our senseless slaughter for nearly a thousand years. If one Corbet lives, we will continue to be persecuted. The remedy is simple: destroy the blood, destroy the threat.”
She nodded and tightened her arms around his neck. “I understand the concept, Rafa. I just don’t understand taking the life of an innocent child who bears me no ill will.”
“She will learn to. They all do sooner or later.”
He kissed her then looked over at Lucien as the last bell chimed, signaling the bewitching hour of midnight. “We need to shift now and get the sword. We’re out of time.”
In less time than it took to blink, they strapped on their sheathed swords and backpacks, and then shifted. Rafe took point with Falon flanking his right and Lucien his left. They passed through the wrought-iron door that had caused them so much trouble, and moved deeper under the bowels of the medieval village.
With Ra
fe’s enhanced vision, he was able to see beyond the infrared of life forces. He saw their auras, was able to gauge their strength and instinctively know where to strike to end the threat.
Do you feel any different, Falon? he asked her as they moved through another wrought-iron door, this one open as if in welcome. Rafael paid extreme attention to their surroundings and the energy forces around them.
I feel lighter, more perceptive.
Me, too.
As they were halfway between the previous door and the next door, a pale yellow light illuminated the thick wooden portal. Each thick plank was strapped with large rusty hinges with decade’s worth of dust-encrusted cobwebs cloaking most of the wood. The tiny incandescent sparks of energy that were the spiders that inhabited the webs flickered like fireflies on a warm summer night.
Do you see that? Rafe asked Falon.
She squinted, and said, Little flickering lights, like fireflies.
Rafe smiled and nodded. Spiders.
Careful the glow behind the door is nothing good, Lucien said.
A spell? Falon asked.
Rafe nodded. Draw your swords and be ready for anything.
With their powerful jaws, in unison, they drew their swords from the leather sheaths on their backs, and then side to side to side they closed ranks so that their bodies touched as they moved as one unit toward the door. The power of three.
There were no locks, no chains, no dead bolts. Just an old cobweb-encrusted tarnished handle. Rafe jumped up on his hind legs and pushed it with his front paws. It squeaked and groaned but slowly swung open as if there was a hand on the other side, pulling it open in welcome.
Every sense Rafe possessed was on high alert. His nose twitched detecting only the musty scents of age. As the door opened wider the glow intensified forcing them to squint against its brightness. Still connected they moved through the threshold.
It felt like sunshine on her face. The radiance drew Falon in with the promise of Elysian Fields. She felt light, effervescent, like a bubble as she drifted to the light.
Stop! Lucien commanded as they stepped into a pile of rubble. Falon blinked, and looked down. They were standing in the middle of a bone yard. From the looks of them human though some looked—half human and half wolf?
What is this? she asked.
What’s left of the ones before us who tried to retrieve that. Falon looked straight ahead and there, suspended in the air not more than fifteen feet in front of them, was the Cross of Caus. It was beautiful. A classic broadsword with a golden pommel and a sapphire-, ruby-, and emerald-encrusted mount. The hilt was gold and the full length of the blade, polished silver with what looked like Latin inscriptions.
It’s magnificent, Falon breathed as she was drawn to it. Rafael growled a warning.
Do you see the curtain? Lucien said.
Falon blinked and refocused. Ah, there it was, translucent, golden, and shimmering as if it were alive, a protective sheath surrounded the sword. Why had she not initially seen it?
You were too beguiled by the sword, Luca answered her thought. Part of the lure to draw you in. He picked up a bone in his jaw and tossed it at the shroud. On contact the bone sparked and sizzled on contact before it dropped in a film of dust to the floor. So that it can destroy you.
What do we do?
It begins at the floor and goes to the rafters, Rafe said. We can’t jump into it. He moved slightly forward, then said, Shift so that we can move more freely and stay connected.
As they shifted they grasped hands. Falon in the middle, Rafa to her right and Luca to her left. Carefully they moved around the sword, taking care not to get too close to the iridescent shroud. Its beauty and power beguiled. The force of it hard to resist. But resist it they did. As they came around to a full rotation, the shimmering cadence faltered.
Did you see that? Rafe said. It flickered as if something affected it.
We just made a full circle, Lucien said.
Let’s go around again.
This time the flicker was more obvious as if their energy force was disturbing the electrical field holding the spell intact.
Take my hand, Luca, Rafe directed. When he did the curtain blanched as if something had struck it.
The curtain that had been cast to protect the sword continued to shimmy and shake, and within its protective circle, the Cross of Caus began to bob back and forth as if it was about to lose balance and crash to the floor.
Rafael lifted his hands in the air, bringing Falon’s and Luca’s hands up with his. He stared straight at the curtain and commanded, “Release the sword!” As if mocking Rafe’s command, the curtain moved in slow sensuous waves.
Still holding hands, Falon opened her hands extending her palms toward the curtain. “Come to me sword!” she commanded. Her voice greatly disturbed the sword within, almost as if it desired release to her.
The shroud responded violently. Vibrating it tightened. Falon called upon the power within her, launching it at the shroud. Fissures tore through the magic, disturbing it so thoroughly that for the briefest second there was an opening to grab the sword but it came and went before any one of them realized what it was.
Call upon the ring, Rafe, Lucien said. And then as one we’ll throw everything we have at this bitch. The one closest to an opening grabs the sword.
Tightly clasping hands, they stared directly at the glittering hilt of the Cross and one by one they commanded the curtain to fall, and then in one powerful voice commanded it to drop. The Eye of Fenrir flared furiously as if it had its own vendetta against the sword.
Falon’s energy bursts pummeled the curtain as she called the Cross to her. With a will of its own the captive sword struck the shroud from the inside causing it to shake violently.
The sword struck again. This time the curtain tore directly in front of Lucien. Lightning quick, he grabbed the hilt. As he pulled the Cross from the protective curtain, it flared molten as the metal came in contact with regular air.
Lucien hissed in pain. But he raised his hand triumphantly in the air howling his victory.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said, then tossed the sword into the air. He shifted, catching it in his powerful jaws as it came down.
Instead of retracing their steps, Rafe directed them up through the back stairways to the rooftop, where they ran along the rooftops all the way back to the building where they had rescued little Alana.
It was the only thing that could hinder Falon’s happy step. She had a sister. A baby sister! She was part of a family. A completely broken, dysfunctional pathetic excuse for a family but she had one—a mother, a father, and a sister. Were there other siblings? Half or full?
She wanted to know and she didn’t want to count any of them out like Rafe did. Falon didn’t hate because she was half Lycan, she hated because of the horrible things her father’s side of the family had done and continued to do to her mother’s side. And though tainted Corbet blood ran through her veins, and the bouts of darkness terrified her, Falon would fight that darkness in her to her death before she allowed herself or any other Slayer to destroy the two men she loved above life itself.
Twenty
MANY HOURS LATER, flying high in the clouds back to their world, Falon stretched out between Rafael and Lucien as worry clouded her heart and mind. She felt like a liar, a cheat, a charlatan. The information she withheld from the two men who loved her was a game changer. She had hoped for some kind of sign from either one of them that they would be willing to accept her situation but Rafe had been crystal clear, and her disappointment was shattering. Exhaling loudly, she looked over at Lucien who stared broodingly at her. Her cheeks warmed and so damn it, despite her dark thoughts, did other body parts.
And with that, her heart constricted painfully at the thought of losing his love and respect. She now u
nderstood completely why, after Luca discovered Mara was not only still alive but a Slayer, he had kept those facts from her and Rafe. For the simple fear of losing her. What he had done was wrong but she understood the reason behind it. What she was doing now was worse.
But she could not tell them! Not now. It would be devastating, and the nation needed the powerful alphas completely focused. Maybe she would tell them after the rising, if they survived it. If she had the courage . . .
Instinctively her hand dropped to her belly. What of her child? Would they allow her to live long enough for him to be born? And then kill him, too? No! She would fight for her child’s life even at the expense of her own and his father’s. She would tell them nothing. Just simply slip away one night, have her baby, and look over her shoulder for the rest of her life.
And what a miserable lonely existence that would be.
“Angel face,” Lucien said softly, leaning into her. He smiled and pressed his hand over the one on her belly. “You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
She smiled a sad smile, forcing back tears. Tracing her fingertips across his full bottom lip she said, “Promise me, no matter what happens, you will never stop loving me.”
He grasped her hand, and nipped her fingertip. “You own every part of me. There is nothing that will ever change that.”
Fisting his hair in her hand, Falon drew his lips to hers and deeply kissed him. His strong arms slipped around her waist pulling her into him. Inwardly she sighed, feeling safe in his strong arms.
Lucien was slow and deliberate in his kiss, drawing her away from what plagued her thoughts. Her skin flickered warmly as his tongue languidly swirled along her lips then against hers. She loved kissing him, her wicked, wicked Lycan.
When he broke the kiss several minutes later she was breathing heavily and not thinking about anything except his hands and mouth on her.