Blood Challenge wotl-7

by Eileen Wilks

  Arjenie grimaced. “Neither did Benedict.”

  “Would you expect him to, after losing Claire like … oh, shit,” she said when she saw the look on Arjenie’s face. She’d just blown it on Benedict’s behalf a second time. “He didn’t tell you about Claire.”

  “No.” Arjenie leaned forward. “But you will, won’t you?”

  THIRTY-THREE

  THE night air was cool and silky. Stars spattered the darkness overhead as if some celestial dog had gone swimming in them, then shaken himself dry. The upper deck was still warm from the day’s heat. It felt good beneath Benedict’s bare feet.

  His brother had joined him out here for a while. He and Rule hadn’t talked beyond exchanging basic information: Arjenie was talking with Lily. Yes, Benedict had followed her when she went for a walk to get her head straight. It was his duty to keep track of her. She’d walked slowly along the road for about a mile, then sat in the grass of the meeting field. She’d sat there for about half an hour, then returned. She hadn’t limped. She hadn’t seemed overwhelmed by emotion. She’d seemed to be doing just what she’d said she needed to do. Thinking.

  A couple minutes ago, Rule had gone back inside. Those weren’t his footsteps coming up behind Benedict now.

  “I guess I do have a Benedict-locating sense now. I found you.”

  He turned slowly. “Did Lily answer your questions?”

  Her nod was brief. He couldn’t see her face well. The moon was up, but she stood beneath the patchy shade of the big eucalyptus tree. Her hair was as loud and boisterous as ever. He just wasn’t sure what it was shouting about.

  “You will not do it,” she told him.

  He blinked. “What?”

  She came closer and jabbed a finger at him. She poked him in the chest with it. “There is only one way to remove a mate bond, and you will not do that! I want your word. Right now.”

  “What did Lily tell you?” he demanded.

  “That there’s only one way to break a mate bond. Death. When I added that to what she said about Claire—”

  “She told you about Claire?” Damn meddling female!

  “You should have told me.” She poked him again. “Lily thought you had. She assumed you had the sense God gave a goose.” Poke. “She didn’t realize that you are such a complete guy!”

  “You’re angry.” In the past two days she’d been captured, scared, worried, aroused, curious, delighted, hungry, annoyed, and frustrated. She hadn’t been angry. Not until now. “Really angry.”

  “Pissed! I am pissed! When you tell someone that you’re romantically bound together—and I don’t care how unconventional that binding is!—you have to tell them about it if the last person you were bound to died and you almost died of grief.” She stopped poking to seize his arms, both of his arms, as if she was going to shake him. As if she could have. “I want your promise. Now.”

  “I know you can’t tolerate being physically held against your will. The bond is physical. I don’t want you to be frantic because—”

  She put her fingers on his lips. Just rested them there. “Shut up, Benedict. Shut up and promise.”

  He smiled. Her fingers didn’t prevent that, but he gently removed them from his mouth anyway. “All right. I promise I won’t kill myself.” Not directly, at least. He kissed the fingers he was holding.

  He knew her pulse stuttered. He heard it, smelled it in the renewed wash of her scent. Her voice didn’t. “Or do stupid, reckless things that lead to your death.”

  His Chosen was much too bright sometimes. “I can’t promise to never risk myself.” Tenderly he brushed her fingers back from her palm so he could kiss that, too. “Sometimes there’s a need for risk.”

  “Then promise you’ll be as careful with yourself as you would be with any of your men.”

  “Are we bargaining?” He tickled her palm with the tip of his tongue.

  “Yes.”

  “Then you must be prepared to offer me something in return.”

  Her sudden smile was pure pixie. Mischief with a hint of sex. “Sure. I’ll stop yelling at you. About this, anyway. I don’t promise I’ll never yell at you. I’ve got a feeling you’ll need it from time to time.”

  She was talking about the future. About their future, as if it were settled and agreed upon that they would be together. As if she’d accepted the mate bond.

  The hard crust of time moved inside him—calcified years shifting, shifting, threatening to break apart under the assault of this new flood of feeling. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t allow his fingers to tighten on the hand he held. He was too strong. He could crush it, could quite literally crush her bones if he gripped too hard. He could hurt her.

  He wouldn’t. Easier to stop breathing than to take that chance. But she wanted his promise, didn’t she? To give her that, he needed air.

  Benedict’s chest heaved. The breath he drew was ragged. He felt it all the way down. “All right. But you have to promise the same. That you’ll be as careful with yourself as you would be with—with any other who you were responsible for.”

  Her face was still and solemn, her eyes large. It was too dark to see their beautiful ocean color, yet he could feel the ocean in them washing over him. Her voice was quiet. “I do so vow.”

  Those were the right words. The perfect words. Were they Wiccan? Part of some sidhe ritual? It didn’t matter. He gave them back to her. “And I, too, do so vow.”

  She smiled—deep, secret, mysterious. And reached up to cup his face in her hands. “Now you’re supposed to kiss me. I’d do it myself, but I can’t go up on tiptoe, so—”

  Benedict was no fool. He followed instructions.

  Her arms went around him tightly. Her mouth was sweet and her scent flooded him, as if even his pores had opened to absorb it. He stroked her back, her butt, running his hands up and down, savoring the feel of her. She shivered.

  Urgency bit. He tried to go slow. He couldn’t. The sweetness of her mouth deserved an hour or two to appreciate, but already he was urging her deeper into the shadows beneath the tree. He put his back to the smooth trunk of the old eucalyptus and tunneled his fingers into the insane mass of her hair, tipping her head so he could kiss and suck on her neck.

  She liked that. Her body moved in a slow undulation. When she hummed down low in her throat, he felt the vibration in his lips. Her hands dug in at his waist and he shuddered and straightened and reached for the hem of her T-shirt.

  “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 kidd
ing.” 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?”