Bloodright

by Karin Tabke

  He swiped his hand across his chin. She had marked him today. In that one oh-so-meaningful gesture he never thought he would get, she freely gave herself to him. She gave him everything, including a piece of her heart. He felt it in the way she looked at him. Touched him. Made love to him. He had never been happier than he was this afternoon with Falon. He did not want to lose that. But how could he hang on to her?

  He looked at the gray ashes on the dirt floor: The only evidence that Mara was a Slayer. And now, a dead Slayer. Lucien inhaled sharply. Only he knew the truth. Only he could set it free. Only he stood between the woman he loved and Rafael, the man who had always stood between Lucien and his own glory.

  He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. Was he willing to forgo all honor—to lie—to keep the woman he loved?

  He snarled. Lucien was many things to many people, but he was a man of his word. He had given his word he would never lie to Falon. And since Falon valued honor so highly, would she value him for swallowing his pride and telling the truth? Maybe, but it would not bind her to him. It would drive her away, straight into Rafael’s arms, making Lucien hate him even more.

  Setting the truth free would also sign Lucien’s death warrant. The Blood Law was clear: no Lycan shall lie with a Slayer; the penalty, death. While the Blood Law was black and white, it had been lenient with Falon. Could it be with him? Lucien was not feeling so lucky. Mara had not been a one-night stand. He had not only lain with her repeatedly but would have marked her and bred with her had Rafe not seen through her trickery.

  He was screwed.

  Except for one unseen benefit: the vengeance that ruled his every action for the last sixteen years began to unravel. Rafe had been just. Rafe had not slain Mara for personal gain but to protect the pack. Rafe lived by the pack-first credo. And while Lucien did the same in his own way, he was not the honorable man his brother was. Or the honorable man Falon deserved.

  He raked his fingers through his hair again and sat up. He needed to get the hell out of there before those bloodthirsty bastards came looking for him. He dragged himself to the door and cracked it open. What sounded like a Slayer kegger party echoed from a large building roughly fifty yards from where Lucien hid. The doors were closed and no guards stood sentinel. Was Mara’s spell still in effect? Or had she lied? Lucien guessed everyone was in on the joke except him. Those Slayers were deliberately looking the other way. Just like they had deliberately isolated him so that Mara could act as if she were helping him escape. And then what? They’d let him take her back to his pack to finish what she had started sixteen years ago?

  He snarled and shifted. He needed to heal himself. As an alpha, he could heal others but not himself to the same degree. In wolf form, however, he could lick his wounds, healing himself enough so that he could at least walk. Once home, Talia would use her power to repair what he could not.

  Once he was able to bear weight, Lucien nosed open the door, and like a shadow, he slipped up to the building housing the merrymaking Slayers. Though some were clan Corbet by their scent, there were others Lucien did not recognize. Could these be the Slayers Balor had recruited from the east? There were nearly two dozen of them. He moved around the building, absorbing his surroundings. They were close to water. The scent of motorboats and aquatic flora and fauna was strong. But the Slayer stink was stronger.

  Facing north, Lucien raised his nose to the air. The breeze came in from the west, a slight salt scent carried all the way in from the bay, heading due east. By the landscape Lucien knew he was south of Mondragon. Probably somewhere due west of Sacramento close to the delta roads.

  He moved in closer and, though it hurt, he rose up on his haunches and peered through the closest window to get a head count. Twenty armed Slayers. Not only did they all have snub-nosed automatic machine guns slung across their backs, no doubt with silver rounds, but a short metal scabbard hung from each one of their belts. New-world weapons to stop them, old-world weapons to kill them.

  Old farming equipment was neatly pushed to the back of the building with several stacks of round shipping containers lined up on the opposite wall. His nose twitched. Gasoline.

  Lucien dropped to all fours and did a slow perimeter check. Roughly four hundred feet. Two exits, double wooden doors in the front, same type in the back. From the contents, the building was some type of storage barn with high vents on either side of the pitched wood-slat roof. The building was wood. In the heat of the late summer, it was dry. Perfect kindling.

  Lucien!

  His heart leapt against his chest.

  Falon! I have been calling for you! Where are you? Are you safe?

  Lucien, we’re coming for you!

  Who?

  Vulkasin. We’re close, your scent is strong.

  Lucien grit his jaw. He should be ecstatic she had gone to Rafe for help and not left him there to die. But he could not get past the irksome fact that his brother was coming to his rescue. Or at least was. Lucien had procured his own freedom and was free to go. But he was not running, not when he had the opportunity to take out more Slayers. Four this morning, twenty more tonight? No fucking way.

  I will meet you, Lucien called to her and leapt into the night.

  In just a few short miles, with the southerly shift in the wind, he picked up not only Falon’s scent, but his brother’s and half of Vulkasin. His pack. The pack that bore his sire’s name. The pack he longed to rejoin with Mondragon, although he would never admit that to anyone but himself. It could never happen. He was not sixteen again and not willing to co-alpha with his brother. Rafael would never go for it, either. All of that aside, the one thing standing between the packs uniting was Falon. He could not watch her with Rafael every day. He would go mad with jealousy. He would—

  He was struck dumb with awe when he watched Falon break through a copse of trees. Her long, sleek ebony body ran fluidly, gracefully. Powerfully.

  To him.

  At her side, in perfect synchronicity, the great golden Vulkasin alpha. Lucien growled possessively.

  “Lucien!” Falon cried shifting into her human form. Lucien shifted and caught her as she lunged into his arms. “You’re alive!”

  He smiled through the grimace of pain as his body absorbed her weight. God, she felt good. He just wanted to fold her into his arms and hold her forever. “I’m fine.”

  Flinging her arms around his neck, Falon pressed her body tightly against his. Lucien tightened his arms around her waist, then closed his eyes, inhaling her unique scent.

  I missed you, angel face.

  She threw her head back, her eyes glowing happily. Lucien leaned down to kiss her smiling lips. “I am so happy to see you! We picked up your blood scent. I was so afraid we would be too late.”

  He cocked a brow as his belly did a slow roll. Did she truly care for him? He was afraid to ask. “Did you suddenly discover feelings for me, Falon?”

  Her cheeks flushed and he loved her more. “I have suddenly discovered a few things about you, Luca.” She rose up on her toes and kissed his chin. “We can discuss that later.” Stepping down, Falon inclined her head to Rafe. “Your brother came to your aide when he didn’t have to. Please try to find it in your heart to move through your hatred.”

  Lucien dragged his eyes from Falon’s happy ones and stared straight into Rafael’s brilliant gold glare. Lucien nodded, understanding his brother’s rage. For the first time in many years, he did not revel in it. “We need to talk,” he whispered in Falon’s ear.

  “We can talk later. But please, Luca, acknowledge that Rafael is here.”

  Lucien squeezed her. “He knows I am grateful.”

  Tell him. Please.

  Lucien sighed and looked over Falon’s head to his brother, who had not moved. Jealous rage had a paralyzing hold of him. How Rafe controlled himself was beyond Lucien. Vow or no vow, jealousy’s ugly claws scraped along Lucien’s own belly. If he was the one standing where his brother stood, he could not bear it. And for the second tim
e in sixteen years, Lucien felt no triumph in his brother’s pain.

  Lucien cleared his throat and said, “My thanks, Rafe. But as you can see, I am alive and well.”

  Rafael strode toward them. “How is that, Luca?” his brother sneered, deliberately using Falon’s term of endearment.

  Falon stiffened in Lucien’s arms. Giving her a reassuring squeeze Lucien made no defensive move toward Rafe.

  It’s okay, Falon. For the first time I respect his rage.

  Lucien almost laughed when her head jerked back and she looked up at him as if he had grown horns. Where is angry Lucien?

  Lucien smiled, wishing he did not know what he knew but knew that without the truth, there could never be peace. And there must be peace if there was going to be life after the Blood Moon rising. He was becoming too much of an ass so I fed him to the Slayers.

  Shocked by his words, Falon’s eyes widened in surprise. My prayers have been answered!

  Lucien’s smile waned. Be careful what you wish for, Falon. You might get it.

  Ignoring the confusion in her gaze, Lucien looked back to his brother, looking past the contempt tightening his lips. “They severed both my Achilles tendons, injected me with something that knocked me out. I woke shackled in a cage in a shed. I managed to free myself and healed my wounds enough that I can walk.”

  “I sensed you weren’t one hundred percent,” Falon accused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Lucien smiled tenderly. “I am now, love.”

  “Men,” she chastised, shaking her head as she knelt down behind him and pressed her soothing hands to his wounds.

  Lucien’s body jerked as her healing warmth infused him. Gods, he would never tire of it. His blood warmed. His body tightened. The beast raised its head, clawing at his gut for release. Setting his jaw, Lucien wrestled down the desire pounding through him.

  “Falon,” he said hoarsely. “That’s enough.”

  “But—”

  He turned and grabbed her up to him. Her eyes widened as she noticed his erection.

  “Oh.”

  He growled low. Do you want to start a fight? My brother watches.

  Red blotches spattered her cheeks. “I—” Shamefaced, Falon looked past Lucien to Rafe. “My apologies, Rafael.”

  Lucien growled, turning to face his brother.

  Rafael’s eyes blazed molten, but Lucien sensed his brother’s own beast was raging as wildly as his own. He was not immune to Falon, either. How could he be? They had exchanged blood and marks. It could not be undone despite the Blood Law. That damned Blood Law with its double-edged sword.

  Ignoring what they both wanted to do to the woman standing between them, Lucien looked over his shoulder in the direction of the Slayers, then back to his brother. “The Slayers seemed more bent on celebrating tonight than killing. I doubt they know I’m gone.” He smiled savagely. “Are you interested in taking out a handful of East Coast Slayers and a few of clan Corbet tonight?”

  “I’m always interested,” Rafael said, the vicious glint in his eyes mirroring his brother’s.

  “Good,” Lucien said, looking down at Falon, then back to Rafe. “Because this is going to require the three of us.”

  A FEW MINUTES later, Rafael handed Falon a T-shirt and a pair of shorts that were too big. He tossed Lucien a pair of jeans and pulled on his own pair. Falon quickly dressed. Not that she was modest, shifting back and forth cured one of that quick, but honestly, being naked with Rafe and Lucien both looking at her as if she were a fresh-cut pork chop was unnerving.

  And thrilling. For that one electrifying moment when she stood between both men, their passions raging, her imagination took off with carnal images of her in Lucien’s strong arms, then Rafael’s, then—both…

  Falon licked her dry lips and glanced over at Lucien, who had walked over to talk weapons with Anton. He looked so damn sexy in the pair of low-slung jeans. His muscles rippled along his arms as he grasped a sword from Anton’s cache, making stabbing and thrusting gestures. Lucien’s dark hair framed his fallen-angel face in a wild halo of midnight black. Her body warmed when she thought of them earlier that day on the riverbank. It had been ferocious, frantic, untamed. But then, so was Lucien. He kept her off balance. She never knew what to expect from him except the unexpected.

  Lucien’s feral nature was the polar opposite of Rafael’s civility. Rafael was a sensualist. Slow. Deliberate, and oh so passionate. With Rafael, Falon knew where she stood, and that he would always do the right thing. He was grounded, revered among his people, and highly intelligent. He was her first. She had always thought he would be her last. But fate had a funny way of stepping in and shaking up a person’s life.

  Falon’s chest tightened with longing. She missed waking in Rafa’s strong secure arms. Yet her breath hitched high in her throat and her belly did chaotic somersaults when she thought of Lucien’s touch. He was instant heat followed by internal combustion.

  How was it that each man, in his different way, completed her?

  What she needed was an ice-cold shower. Maybe then she would not feel so—She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the deadly matter of killing Slayers. But each time she looked at Rafe, then Lucien, she got a funny buzz in her belly. Amazingly they were in the same breathing space and not tearing each other apart. Had it really been less than two weeks ago that all hell had broken loose? When she thought death was better than life with Lucien?

  Yet here she was, with the man she loved like crazy and thought she could not live without and the man she craved with the urgency of a heroin addict. They were night and day. As different as black and white, and yet one nurtured her heart, the other her soul.

  Why could she not have both?

  Falon swallowed hard and closed her eyes fighting off the erotic visions of being in both men’s arms. Of one kissing her as the other stroked her. Of one inside her as the other—

  Warm hands touched her shoulders. Hungry for succor, she moaned and looked up into Rafael’s dark eyes. Air rushed from her lungs. Her tight nipples tingled. “Rafa,” she said roughly. “Please.”

  He moved into her, his eyes holding hers. “Please, what?”

  She could barely breathe. His fingers tightened on her, his nostrils flared, his clean citrusy scent intensified. She wanted to melt into his arms, to be held by him, to make love. Swallowing hard, Falon croaked, “I would give anything to make things different.”

  “Really?” His eyes snapped angrily. “You and Lucien didn’t waste any time marking each other.”

  “I meant I would give anything so that none of us had to suffer.”

  “I appear to be the only one suffering, Falon.”

  She swallowed hard, wishing his words bore no truth. While she suffered the loss of Rafe, Lucien soothed the pain. She looked past Rafe to Lucien, who stood beside Anton, slashing his sword angrily through the air. His golden glare locked and fixed on her.

  You disrespect me with your public display of lust for my brother, Lucien growled.

  Falon’s own temper flashed. I’m not a cyborg! I cannot turn my feelings off and on!

  Lucien stabbed the sword into the ground. At least pretend.

  “At the very least, I would have thought you respected me enough not to flaunt your lust for my brother in my face, Falon,” Rafael said and stalked toward Anton, who was unloading crossbows and swords from the leather packs strapped to the Berserkers.

  Shaking with anger, Falon stood slack-jawed as the men moved around her. “How the hell did this get turned around and put on me?!” she demanded, marching behind Rafael. She pointed to Lucien, who angrily strode toward her. “And you! How dare you intrude on my feelings for another?”

  Rafael turned around just as Lucien stopped beside him. Both brothers looked so damn righteous, she wanted to slap them. “Do either one of you care what I have been through? Are you both so selfish that all you can think of is your fragile alpha egos? Do either one of you care that I have feelings, too?” Hot
tears stung her eyes. “I did not ask to be thrust into the middle of your blood feud. I didn’t ask for any of this, yet I am the one most affected by it!”

  She placed her hand on Rafael’s chest. More calmly, she said, “I love you. With all my heart, I love you. You are the light that has shown me what it is to love selflessly and honorably.”

  She placed her other hand on Lucien’s warm chest. His heart beat like a kettledrum beneath her palm. She smiled softly. “Lucien, you are the dark side of the moon. You have shown me a side of myself I was afraid to acknowledge existed. In your own way, you have shown me that honor has two sides. You are a glorious alpha I am proud to stand beside.”

  She pressed her hands more firmly to their chests. “If I could go back in time, I would make it so none of us had to endure this heartache.” She stood on her toes and brushed her lips across Rafael’s. His heart slammed against her hand. Her vision blurred. Her heart broke that his broke. But she could not undo what had been done. She smiled through her tears and kissed Lucien. He placed his hand on hers and squeezed it as if to say, I’m sorry and I understand. Tears swelled to overflowing, but Falon’s voice did not waver. “But since that isn’t possible, please, I am begging you both”—her voice cracked—“do not hate me for making the best of a terrible situation. Don’t hate me for the feelings I have for each of you.”

  GUILT CARVED CHUNKS out of Lucien’s conscience. But more ferocious was his obsession with the woman who loved his brother yet only desired him. It ate at him that there was no time for her to fall in love with him. Maybe then, she would let the sleeping dogs lie. Maybe if she loved him as she loved his brother, she would forsake Rafe for him when he told her the truth.

  He should just tell them both now what had happened in that shed.

  “Falon,” Rafael said softly. “Forgive me. I only thought of myself, and not you.” Despite Lucien standing right there, Rafael took her into his arms and kissed her. When he pulled away, tears rolled down Falon’s cheeks. Lucien steeled himself, hating that those tears were for his brother. Rafe cleared his throat and continued, “There are two northern packs arriving at Vulkasin by week’s end. Pack Kozlow and Ivanov. Both packs distant cousins of Vulkasin.” Rafael inhaled, then slowly exhaled. “I have agreed to accept Anja, the daughter of Ivanov’s alpha, Sasha, as my chosen one.”