Bloodright

by Karin Tabke

  What Rafe had done earlier was underhanded, it was cowardly, it was wrong on every level imaginable, and he would not undo it. Fuck his honor. Fuck his pride. Fuck his damn vow!

  All he wanted, needed, was Falon in his arms. She had scared ten years off his life when she lay dying from the infected Slayer blood. He had felt as helpless as he felt the day his parents were slain before his eyes.

  He growled low. He had chosen to stay behind locked doors that terrible day. Had forced Lucien to as well, saying that they gave their word to their mother and should honor it no matter what. Honor. What had it gotten him but heartache? He lived with the guilt of the fallout of doing the honorable thing every day of his life.

  Tonight he had thrown his honor and all the bullshit strings that went with it out the door. He wanted to see Falon. Needed her as he needed air to breathe.

  When he went to her earlier, he had gone only with the intention of slipping into her subconscious to hold her. One last time. Before—he snarled—before he marked another. But what he found was her running, dreaming, wishing that he and Lucien would stop fighting and become one with her.

  He hadn’t had the willpower to stop himself from following her. He had not planned to do anything more than hold her. But when her dream took off in that wild direction, he knew it would be his only chance to connect with her one more time. Before, honor bound, he marked the noble Siberian she-wolf. He looked over his shoulder making sure Anja had not followed him. She was a worthy mate, but not the one Rafe wanted.

  But what he didn’t expect when he found himself buried balls deep in Falon was to experience the love she felt for his brother. It was as much a part of her as her love was for him. It was strong. Undeniable. He hated that she loved Lucien. Hated that she found comfort in his brother’s arms when all Rafe wanted to do was love her. But despite his jealousy over Falon’s feelings for Lucien, it was Rafe’s reluctant love for his brother that made making love to Falon as she also made love to Lucien bearable. It had been damn sexy watching her body morph into that hyper-sexually-aware state she was in when she came undone around him. The energy from her orgasm had shot straight to his cock and balls, infusing him with vitality. She did that to him. He was omnipotent. The king of the world. And she belonged to his brother.

  He scowled, looking back at the couple lying entwined on the ground. Their bodies finally parted. Falon’s breasts rose and fell in short shallow heaves as she caught her breath. Lucien, he silently snarled. Lucien, the ladies’ man of all ladies men, kissed each nipple, then worked his way down her smooth belly.

  Accepting Lucien with Falon in his dreams was one thing; reality was altogether different. Jealousy tore through him.

  He could not bear to watch as Falon parted her thighs for Lucien’s mouth. Her sweetness was still on Rafe’s own tongue. Oh, how she had clung to him, taking all of him into her, her velvet lining fisting him possessively. He didn’t care that Lucien was there. Didn’t care that she was the happiest that he had ever seen her with the two of them. All he cared about was being inside her. Filling her with his unrequited need. Marking her with his seed.

  Rafe smiled.

  Falon’s essence screamed fertility. He had caught her irresistible scent miles away. He could not have stayed away. Not even for honor’s sake. Her blood coursed through his veins and his in hers. Their bond was too strong to break, despite what the Blood Law decreed.

  Had his seed struck home tonight? He scowled. Or would Lucien’s? Time would tell if her womb bore the fruit of his seed or his brother’s. What would Lucien do if Falon gave birth to a golden-haired babe?

  Rafe growled possessively. Brother or no, Rafe would raise his child as Vulkasin.

  And it would tear Falon in half if he took their child from her. Rafe could not bear to hurt her like that. What would Lucien do? Shun the child? Refuse to raise his brother’s get? Rafe exhaled as he reluctantly looked back at the happy couple. Lucien was a bastard to be sure, but he was not a monster. He’d proven over the last few days what had come to be more important to him than revenge. When he had arrived with Falon to save Lucien, he sensed then that much of his brother’s vengeance had left him.

  Rafe smiled bitterly. Falon had a way of making a man realize what wasn’t important. Who knew angry, vengeful Lucien had the capacity to love as deeply as Rafe did? Because Mara was not love. It was black magic–induced lust. He’d go to his grave knowing she was a Slayer and he had done the righteous thing.

  But none of that mattered. Lucien was making a life with Falon because he loved her. Not because he wanted to piss Rafe off. Could Rafe ask anything less of him? No, but it would never change Rafe’s love for Falon. Or his desire to have her back in his arms, as his chosen one.

  He knew Lucien would raise Rafe’s child as his own if Rafe did not stake his claim. How could he rip his child from Falon’s arms? But how could he allow him to be raised Mondragon?

  There was no answer that would not destroy the other. And he did not want to destroy even as he watched her make love to his brother. Rafe realized the last thing he wanted to do was cause Falon more heartache than she had already suffered. But he so desperately wanted to be a part of her life. To touch her. To make her laugh. To make her sigh with contentment. Father her children.

  He wanted all of that and more. He moved back into the tree line. But he could not have Falon, not without killing his brother. And for that, she would never forgive him. He would not be able to forgive himself, either. For all that Lucien was, he was his brother, and he loved him.

  So, he was back to square one. The woman he loved was lost to him forever.

  He looked back toward Vulkasin where Anja waited. Where his pack waited. Willing him to mark the white wolf so that she could return the mark. But—he could not bring himself to do it. Not yet. He had until the full moon.

  He swiped his hand across his face and stepped farther back into the trees. His pack had waited sixteen years for him to mark a mate. When he had marked Falon, they’d rejoiced. When she’d been stolen from them, they’d fallen into despair. Anja gave them hope that they would soon be able to conceive.

  “Rafael,” a softly accented feminine voice called to him.

  He turned to Anja’s smooth alabaster body glowing amongst the trees. She was naked, except for the small dream-weaver necklace she wore. A welcome gift from him. As stealthy as the wolf she was, she approached him. Her gaze followed his to where Falon and Lucien lay joined together.

  “She is beautiful,” Anja said.

  “She is.”

  “She is fertile.”

  “She is.”

  “She loves your brother.”

  Rafe nodded, hating the truth of her words. “She does.”

  Anja turned to him. Her crystal-clear eyes burned hot with desire. Like a gossamer butterfly, she lowered herself to her knees before him. He hissed a long breath, touching her silky soft platinum-colored hair as she smoothed her palm up his erection, rubbing her thumb across the thick bead of moisture crowning his cock head.

  “Is this for her?”

  Rafe grit his teeth. “It is.”

  With a slow wide swath of her tongue, Anja licked the pre-come from his cock. “Then you are wasting it.”

  She rose and stood almost eye to eye with him. She was tall, graceful, intelligent, and powerful. “When you are ready to rise like that for me, Rafael Vulkasin, you know where to find me.”

  She stalked off, leaving Rafe with a raging hard-on, not for her, but for the one woman he could never have again.

  Eighteen

  THE GROUND RUMBLED beneath her. Falon’s first coherent thought was an earthquake. Not giving it much mind, she snuggled deeper into the strong arms that held her. She’d slept through worse.

  “Slayers on horseback,” Lucien whispered urgently, grabbing her naked body from her resting place. “We need to go!”

  Falon’s heart rate leapt as all of her senses fired up. Slayers!

  “My mother!�
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  But Lucien was already running toward her little cabin. As they approached, Layla stumbled from the doorway. Angor growled viciously from behind them.

  “It’s a hunting party,” Layla choked out. The horror in her eyes terrified Falon. She knew her mother was reliving the last time she’d come face-to-face with a Slayer hunting party.

  Lucien hoisted the healer onto Angor’s back. “Take her to Vulkasin,” Lucien commanded the Berserker. The great mutant wolf growled in understanding, but did not move. His piercing red eyes focused on Falon. “Go, Angor. Take my mother to Vulkasin.”

  The great beast leapt past them into the forest. Some of the fear in Falon subsided. Her immediate worry, her mother’s safety, was no longer a concern. From the direction of the wind and the intensity of their scent, she knew the Slayers traveled toward them from the south. And while horses traveled at a good clip, Angor was strong and twice as fast as any Lycan in full wolf. He could navigate the abundant pine and unruly terrain much easier than a mountain goat much less an equine. Layla was safe. For now.

  “Lucien,” Falon said, her blood warming for a fight. “I can taste their blood.”

  Lucien grinned down at her. “I appreciate your bloodlust, love, but we’re running.”

  Shocked he would turn tail, Falon demanded, “Since when does Mondragon run from a Slayer?”

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the pond. “Never has a Mondragon run from a single Slayer, not even a handful, but that is a hunting party heading our way, and while our combined power and skill is formidable, we don’t stand a chance against what’s coming.”

  Lucien shifted and Falon followed suit. We’re going to give them the run around until Layla and Angor are safely at Vulkasin, then we’ll head south to Mondragon.

  Falon growled, not liking the passive action but understanding the reasons for it. They took off due west, allowing the snarling pack of dogs leading the horde to get a glimpse of them. Fear shimmered along her spine at the brief but powerful sight. At least two dozen mailed and weaponed Slayers astride thundering black-leather-studded horses.

  As wolves, Falon and Lucien had the tactical edge over the horses. They could easily maneuver beneath the thick pine forest and rocky terrain. But the mastiffs that were barking and snarling less than one hundred yards behind them were in excellent shape and, though heavier, possessed stamina.

  Sensing her concern, Lucien soothed her. We have the edge, just stay beside me.

  For nearly an hour she did. Though they kept a comfortable lead, each time Lucien turned southward, the Slayers fanned out behind them preventing them from making the turn. Falon was beginning to get winded.

  Ride my draft, Falon.

  Falon slowed to step in behind Lucien.

  The mastiffs behind them didn’t have a fatigue problem.

  Dogs of war, they had the benefit of their masters’ black magic.

  I cannot continue this pace, Lucien.

  Make it over the next ridge, angel, and we’ll be two miles from Vulkasin.

  Vulkasin would be a welcome respite but were they leading death to their doorstep?

  I would not bring harm to my brother or his pack. The compound walls will hold the Slayers at bay.

  But as they crested the ridge, a gauntlet of Slayers awaited them at the bottom. In their hurry, they hadn’t noticed the wind shift or the scents that went with it.

  Falon skidded to a halt in the damp loamy earth halfway down the hill. Lucien’s strong body kept her from tumbling into the waiting thugs. They turned to go back up the ridge but the blazing eyes of a dozen possessed dogs formed a wall preventing their escape.

  Stay calm, Lucien said.

  If we shift and combine forces, I can push the dogs back.

  Are you strong enough?

  Yes!

  Simultaneously they shifted then grabbed hands. Falon faced the dogs and with every bit of mind power she possessed, she raised her hands and shoved them backward. As the dogs went tumbling backward over the ridge, the Slayers thundered up the hill behind them.

  Falon whirled around with Lucien and just as she shoved her hands palms out toward the two dozen Slayers, her jaw dropped in shocked awe.

  Standing behind the Slayers were Rafael’s six gigantic mutant wolves, their fanged jaws flashing in the morning sunlight. Behind them, all of Vulkasin stood in full battle gear, and behind them, the Russian packs.

  The Slayers reined their horses around and faced the deadly threat. The horses pawed the soft ground nervously. Snarling behind them, the dogs regrouped along the ridge, catching Falon and Lucien between the bad guys.

  Rafael drew his double swords and sneered. “Today is your day to die, Slayers!”

  A sword, Rafe! Lucien called.

  In a lightning quick move, Rafael hurled one of his swords to Lucien. He leapt high into the air to grab it. As he came down, he kicked dirt into the closest Slayer’s horse’s face. The steed snorted and reared and as he came down, Lucien leapt into the air again and decapitated the Slayer. As his body fell to the ground, Lucien grabbed his sword and tossed it to Falon.

  Momentary confusion rippled through the Slayers. Vulkasin and the Russian packs took advantage of it. As if they had been practicing the tactic for ages, they circled the demons on horseback.

  The dogs on the ridge snarled and snapped, rushing them. Falon raised her sword pointing at the pack. “Down!” she commanded. No one was more surprised than the Slayers when they obeyed.

  “Attack!” the Slayer leader commanded from behind Falon.

  Their haunches bunched up to leap. Falon stepped boldly toward them. “Down!” Her voice boomed through the pines, forbidding everything but obedience. The savage hellhounds whimpered like pups and lay down again.

  With her free hand she raised her hand in the stop position and said firmly, “Stay!”

  She turned to the furious Slayer and smirked. “Even your black magic cannot trump a true bitch’s power.”

  Nearly two dozen pairs of eyes glittered malevolently at her from behind dull black, split-nose helms. The Slayers were furious, but she also sensed their apprehension of her. Word had begun to circulate. It was well known she had destroyed Edward, second most powerful Slayer only to his brother Balor. She was sure these guys, though not the same scent as clan Corbet, knew she’d had a hand in Ian Corbet’s death, not to mention the hash she and Lucien made out of the Vipers last week. It was established she had powers a normal Lycan did not, and that she was not shy about using them on Slayers. But what most likely gave them the most cause for concern was the fact that the two most powerful alphas on earth coveted her above all other women, Lycan and mortal. She was special. And she owned it.

  I’ll handle them, she said to Lucien and Rafe. It wasn’t a request, but a command. As the hellhounds obeyed so did her alphas. But unlike the hounds, Lucien and Rafe were highly alert and prepared to assist.

  “Who are you? And what is your status amongst your clan?” Falon demanded of the first in command. “And who”—she pointed to the pile of ash at her feet—“was he?”

  “I am Eric Warner, nephew of Balor and sergeant at arms for clan Corbet.” He looked absently down at the bloody corpse. “That was my brother Jonas, the former captain of my uncle’s guard.”

  Falon raised her sword to Warner. For a brother, he didn’t seem overly sad. His lack of emotion solidified for Falon the coldhearted contempt she had of the Slayers. They were an evil bunch bent on simple destruction. Not because of the lore, but because they were simply terrorists who enjoyed, no, lived to kill. “He wasn’t very good at his job.” She narrowed her eyes and asked, “How would you like to die today?”

  His horse pawed the ground as if he were asked the question. “I would ask the same question of you.” Warner sneered.

  His band of Slayers had slowly drawn into a tight circle, much as Ian’s men had when they were under attack. The only difference being they did not form a protective circle around Warner, though
they were tightly woven into an impenetrable wall of horseflesh, chain mail, and weaponry. The Slayers may be outnumbered twelve to one, but they were better armed and—Falon’s gaze swept the leather-wrapped spiked forelegs of the sturdy horses. Those razor-sharp spikes could shred a human or wolf in half with one move. If they attacked, they were going to lose Lycans in the process. Sparing even one Lycan life was paramount not only to Falon emotionally, but to the eventual rising.

  Her bloodlust for a fight warred with her need to be diplomatic. She was feeling cocksure of her rising power. So she flexed her muscles. “I’ll give you the first shot, Eric. If you miss or if I deflect your effort, then you dismount and give me the same opportunity. If I hit my mark, you all die.”

  A collective gasp went up from both factions.

  Falon! Lucien and Rafael said at the same time, stepping forward.

  Stand back! By your actions you show your lack of confidence in me!

  But it was exactly those actions that gave Warner the notion she was not as powerful as rumored.

  “I’ll take that offer and up you one,” Warner said confidently.

  Falon nodded.

  “I hit you, even a nick, my men are to remain unharmed and you return to clan Corbet with me.”

  The silence was so deafening you could hear a pine needle drop onto the soft ground.

  “I agree.” She stood where she was, only ten feet from the mounted Slayer, and raised her arms with the sword clasped in her right hand. “Take your best shot.”

  Warner raised his sword high over his head, and just as he was about to hurl it, he tossed it to his left hand and pulled a nasty looking dagger from a short sheath on his belt. As it touched the air, it glowed white-hot. In a low throaty drone, he chanted a spell. The blade hummed to life in his hand.

  She’d been duped! Falon steeled herself as the heat of the conjuring spell gripped her. Invisible hands grasped hers, squeezing her sword hand until the weapon dropped from her numb fingers. Her legs wobbled unsteadily beneath her. Wide-eyed, she stared, unable to speak as Warner’s incantation gripped her.