The Blade Chaser's Son

by Brenna Lyons

  Scott stretched his bare feet out on the bed, scratching at the four-day’s growth of beard on his chin. “There’s nothing to talk about. Once I break printing, I’ll start doing my job.”

  Matt pulled a chair from the table and settled in it. “Why are you doing this? If you’re printing, you love her. Why would you throw that away?”

  “Other Warriors have broken printing.”

  “When a woman refuses him. Kaitlyn hasn’t refused you. Right now, she’s off in a cabin, stripped of her weapons, under her brother’s care—suffering because of your choice. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  Scott rubbed at the constriction in his chest, fighting the need to scream again, forcing slow, deep breaths when his body fought him. He didn’t want to scream again. He didn’t want to cry. When he did indulge in either of those things, it only left him feeling weaker and more miserable, so why would he?

  “It does make a difference. Why are you doing this? Why are you hurting her, if you love her? Why are you hurting yourself? Explain it to me, because it makes no sense.”

  He couldn’t find his voice. The only clear thing to him was a mindless rage. Scott didn’t want the confusion. He didn’t want the pain. He wanted to be numb. The bottle of Beam beckoned.

  Matt was in motion before it was halfway from the bed to his mouth. He snatched it away, pitching it against the far wall of the cabin before the chair he’d been using hit the floor.

  “It’s not against your precious laws to drink,” Scott grumbled. “I checked.”

  “A Warrior never hides in a bottle. Even when his mate dies, he doesn’t. You are at your lowest point when you battle the madness. The beasts know it. If you meet them in that state, it’s a death sentence.”

  The thought was strangely appealing. Dying would solve all of his problems from breaking printing to escaping the Armens.

  “Scott, you need—”

  “I don’t care.”

  “What?” His anger faded.

  He laughed, though it felt like his heart was being ripped out. “Enemies cut your heart out,” he whispered. That was family for you. That described anyone you let close in life.

  Matt fisted his hands. “That probably sounds pretty damned appealing to you right now. Cut out your heart so you don’t have to feel. Just wait for a beast to—”

  “Why wait? Just call Jordan and Tevin. They want to kill me, anyway. Let’s get this over with.”

  “No one wants to kill you,” he snapped.

  “You’re not that stupid.”

  Scott closed his eyes, too tired to argue, but visions of Katie were waiting to torment him. He opened them with a sigh. Lack of sleep was going to drive him insane before the rest had a chance to. Every time he nodded off, he woke hard and wanting, on the brink of release he couldn’t claim.

  Matt stared at him, seemingly shocked. “Even if it’s true, there are plenty of people who want to accept you, if you let us.”

  “You? It’s so simple for you, isn’t it?”

  “You certainly don’t make it simple to love you, but...yes. Me, Sarah, Antony, Jacob, Stephanie, Elise, the children... My Gods! Kaitlyn would give you the most unconditional love that—”

  “Nothing is without conditions.”

  “Did she ever ask anything of you that you didn’t want to give?”

  Scott didn’t answer that. He couldn’t find it in himself to answer it, because he couldn’t refute it. He’d wanted her before she came to his bed. He’d wanted to marry her, and she hadn’t actually asked—or demanded it. If anything, she was waiting for him to acknowledge what he wanted, to stake a claim on her. Wasn’t that how most people, human people, married?

  “Did she?” Matt prodded.

  “No.” But, she hadn’t been honest with him, either.

  He nodded. “I thought not.”

  Scott rubbed a hand across his eyes. “She’ll forget me.” He could hardly say it and didn’t want to think about it.

  Matt darkened. “Will you forget her?” he challenged.

  Not if I live to be a thousand.

  “Will you go on and marry someone else and wipe her out of your life? Do you want her to?”

  Scott swallowed down the urge to puke. “Stop,” he requested weakly. Just the thought of it was too much for him, and the idea that he could force Katie to it made him feel worse.

  “Then stop this, before you cause any more harm.” He didn’t give Scott time to answer. Matt walked away, shutting the door behind him.

  “Leaving me alone to sink or swim,” he grumbled. Well, wasn’t that what he’d wanted? If he could just figure out why it wasn’t a relief, he might stay sane another day.

  * * * *

  Matt ambled into the training house, feeling twice his fifty years.

  “You found him?” a rather tense voice inquired.

  He winced in the realization that König had come to bear, turning toward the library though he didn’t meet Curt’s eyes. “He didn’t go far, just holed up to weather it out.”

  And was damned ingenious about it, too. Scott had taken only a single cash withdrawl as he rode, done everything in cash, stayed off the beaten path and stayed put. It had taken Matt five days to track the crafty young Warrior. It probably would have taken the Mahers three or less, but the last thing he’d agree to was putting Kaitlyn’s relatives on his son’s trail, so he went himself.

  Curt sighed. “How’s he look?”

  “Like shit.”

  Scott had lost weight, so much that Matt hoped his son hadn’t been subsisting on the bottle he’d smashed. It was unlikely that he had. Besides the fact that Scott seemed fairly lucid, he seemed to have stayed put after his single stock-up run. It was more likely that he’d not been able to stomach food — or that he had no drive to eat. Warriors who had broken printing had reported both.

  The young lord sighed, visibly fighting something he wanted to say, most likely that it was good that Scott was in pain for doing something so hurtful to his daughter. He leaned back against the bookshelves, looking lost.

  “And yours?” Matt inquired.

  “She won’t eat. She’s not sleeping. She won’t even talk to Corwyn. All she does is wander around and stare into space—and cry.”

  “Yeah.” He wanted to say more, but what could he say that would make a father feel better? Nothing of use.

  Maybe if Scott knew how dire it was, he’d go to her. No. He knew. The dark circles under his eyes attested to his lack of sleep, and his raw voice attested to the rest.

  “What are the chances he’ll change his mind?” Curt asked.

  Matt shook his head. “I don’t know. Not good, I guess. What are the chances that she’ll choose someone else eventually? She hasn’t sealed yet, after all.”

  Curt’s face went a vivid red, tightening in anger. “Off hand, I’d say it might be too late for that.”

  A spike of pain cut through his weary mind, the beginnings of one hell of a headache. “How late is it, Curt?”

  “Well, she wasn’t high cycle, if that’s what you mean.”

  “He slept with her.” There was no question in his mind that it had gone that far now.

  “He didn’t pursue her. Katie... Well, she’s a lot like the other Blutjagdfrau. She knows what she wants.” Curt shoved his fists in his pockets, offering a weak smile.

  “Oh, hell.”

  “Yeah.” Curt wandered away, rounding Matt without another word. After that revelation, there hardly seemed the need for more bad news.

  Chapter Nine

  November 11th, 2049

  Scott watched her from the treeline, ghosted, tucking his switchblade back into his boot.

  It had taken him only two hours after Matt left to decide to clean up and find her. He had to know for certain what was between them.

  Of course, since he didn’t want to start a war or court interference, he had to track her rather than asking where she was. That meant checking every Armen stronghold on record, one at a
time, and praying she hadn’t been transported all the way back to Maher range. The two days that it had taken to find her had been nerve wracking, only slightly less maddening than sitting at the cabin he’d rented because he was doing something positive toward salvaging their printing.

  Katie wandered the clearing aimlessly, her arms crossed over her stomach, shivering. She laid her head back, closing her eyes to the sunlight, stumbling in exhaustion.

  He rubbed at the dull ache in his gut. Just seeing her was painful, but he couldn’t live without her. Scott cursed his printing. He’d tried to break it. The damned texts said he could, but he couldn’t. Maybe it was because Katie had never refused him.

  Panic nearly drowned his thinking mind. He had refused her. She’d had more than a week to put him out of her system, and she didn’t look like a madwoman. What would he do if she refused him?

  Convincing her to take him back was probably against their precious rules, just as convincing a woman to have sex with you was. Worse, what if she couldn’t take him back? What if breaking printing was a permanent step? He wasn’t too proud to admit that losing her now would kill him.

  There was no way to know but to try. He’d taken care of her brother, as well as he dared and without breaking any rules of sanction. Now, he had to convince Katie to give him another chance.

  Scott made his way back to his cycle, wiping his shaking hands on his jeans. He wouldn’t touch her. He couldn’t risk hurting her if she refused him.

  Resolved, he fired up the cycle and raced up the path to the cabin and the clearing beyond. Katie turned, watching him come in seeming shock, shaking her head, her eyes wide, taking a few shuffling steps back as if she were ready to bolt.

  He came to a stop between her and the cabin. “Get on, Katie.” He wanted it to sound self-assured, but it came out as a plea.

  “I—I can’t,” she stammered. “I—”

  A scream of rage crossed the distance between the cabin and their position. Katie glanced up, confusion warring with amusement. Corwyn lit up hard, a white-hot tang that scorched Scott’s senses, second only to the feeling of Katie lighting after he left her.

  “Your brother is going to kill me when he gets out of there,” he confided, trying to lighten the mood. “Please, get on. I need to talk to you.”

  She backed off a step, terror in her expression.

  Glass broke at the cabin, probably a window.

  It was time to lay it all on the table and hope for the best. “I have never felt like I belonged anywhere,” he whispered. “I’ve never been part of anything. Not with my mother. Not at school, and not with the Armens...until you. If you feel like you belong with me, get on the cycle. If you don’t — I don’t care what Corwyn does to me.”

  Katie flicked a startled look at the furious Warrior sprinting toward them.

  “Should I turn off the cycle and wait for him to kill me?” he offered.

  She threw her leg over the seat, grasped handfuls of his jacket and pressed to his back. “Go,” she shouted.

  Scott turned a doughnut, spraying dirt and grass in Corwyn’s general direction, then picked up speed as he raced back to the main road. He fought the urge to laugh aloud, simply for having him on the cycle with him, but a kernel of rational thought informed him that the work had only just begun. Katie had come with him to save his life. Now, he had to convince her to stay.

  Katie’s hands loosened, and she shifted closer to him. He hardened painfully in response.

  “There’s an access road a mile ahead on the right. Take it,” she ordered him.

  “I sabotaged Corwyn’s truck. He can’t follow us.”

  “It’s coming up. Take it.”

  Scott turned onto the access road, not slowing. “Okay. Why are we doing this?”

  “By now, the Maher trackers are looking for us. If you want to beat a Maher tracker, ask a Maher tracker.”

  He nodded. Katie may be a König, but she was a König-Maher.

  * * * *

  Erin went still, the Armen history she was reading slipping from her fingers and thumping on the carpet. Her heart pounded in warning and snippets of images filtered through her mind. Corwyn’s Blutjagd joined it.

  Curt took her hands. “Erin, what is it?”

  The words stuck in her throat. She searched the stone for insight, but the damned thing wouldn’t let her see into Scott to gauge his intentions. Or, he’s over the edge of madness and doesn’t know what he intends any more than I do. No, thinking that would drive her mad.

  The cell phone at Curt’s hip rang, and he looked at it in unease.

  She forced herself to speak. “Tell Bear we’ll have a car to him within the hour. Then call Adam. We need him to start tracking from his end...Scott and Katie.”

  Curt snatched his phone up, flipping it open with a look of pure fury. “Corwyn?”

  Her son’s voice barked over the phone, panicked, angry, barely leashed.

  Erin closed her eyes, pyramiding her hands in an attempt to focus her attention on any information the stone could—or maybe, would—give her. Anything that helped with tracking or even clarity of the situation would be welcome. She blocked out the rest of the Warriors then the rest of her family, concentrating solely on Katie.

  Vertigo played havoc with her senses. A turn. The sound of the motorcycle and rushing air drowned out everything else of note. The smell of leather teased her nose, and its buttery material brushed the palms of her hands and cheek. Katie was traveling blind, her eyes squeezed shut, as if keeping her mother from tracking her on purpose.

  “Okay. Why are we doing this?” Scott shouted to make himself heard.

  “By now, the Maher trackers are looking for us. If you want to beat a Maher tracker, ask a Maher tracker.”

  Then it was gone. Erin tried again, but the stone had blacked out the scene for some reason. She opened her eyes with a series of vicious curses.

  Curt looked up, wincing. “Something I should tell Adam while I have him?” he asked, his entire body tensing.

  “Yes. She’s working against us—and the stone is helping her.”

  * * * *

  Katie fit her body tight to Scott’s back. The urge to seal printing beat at her nerves, untouched by the week of hell she’d been through. Her hand strayed south, the need to touch all of him as strong as it had ever been.

  His groan returned some semblance of sanity to her. She couldn’t do this yet. Until they’d had a long talk, it couldn’t go further.

  “Pull over,” she shouted.

  “Here?”

  “Anywhere. We need to talk.”

  Scott nodded, turning cross-country to get them away from the road and the higher probability of detection. Her ears buzzed in the near-silence when he turned the cycle off.

  Katie eased her hands from his body, praying he hadn’t noted her trembling. She’d gone with him for reasons even she couldn’t fathom. Now that they were stopped, she couldn’t find the words to question him.

  He stood and slid off the cycle, turning and dropping to one knee before her. His eyes pleaded with her. Her breathing hitched as he scooped her hand up and kissed her knuckles.

  “Scott... I...” God, how she ached to believe he was sincere.

  “I was wrong, Katie. I have no right to ask your forgiveness, but if I don’t try, I have nothing to live for.” His fingers massaged her hand, finding tension and relieving it patiently.

  “Why?” It was a weak response at best. “Why the change?”

  He blushed deeply. “There was no change, except... I was angry. I was scared. I thought— I thought, if I tried hard enough—”

  “You could prove something.”

  He winced. “Yes. I did.”

  “But, you couldn’t.”

  Scott shook his head.

  Katie eased her hand away, fighting back tears. “So, you’re back. You failed, and the pain is enough to force you to—”

  “No,” he protested. His face went ashen. “I’m risking my l
ife, because...”

  “Because?” she prompted him, her heart skipping at what he might say.

  His hands closed around her hips, massaging lightly, his eyes half-closed in pleasure.

  Her arousal was immediate and intense. As much as she wanted him to continue, this was a bad idea. “Scott,” she begged. “We can’t—”

  He surged up, cocking his head to one side to seal his mouth to hers. His tongue teased just inside her still-parted lips. Katie groaned as she admitted him.

  Suddenly, they were moving. She couldn’t seem to figure out if she dove at him or he dragged her toward him. Katie didn’t care which it was. She landed over him, slowed slightly by his grip on her, their mouths meshing, legs tangling as he laid back then rolled her beneath him. His solid length pressed into her thigh.

  She fumbled at the buttons on her sweater, finally grasping the material in both hands and yanking it apart. Some of the buttons slid from their buttonholes without catching; those that didn’t, popped off.

  Scott’s mouth left hers. His gaze trailed down her body, his breathing harsh. A wicked smile curved his lips. “You’ll be going back in one of my shirts,” he informed her, his voice rough.

  She nodded, easing the sweater aside so he could feast his eyes on her breasts — or anything else he wanted to feast on them. Katie wanted him to feast, slowly, completely, until she begged for more of him.

  His eyes glazed over, his hand cupping one bare mound, his thumb feathering back and forth over the beaded nipple. She arched to him, gasping out a request for more.

  He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Talk first,” he managed.

  “Talk? How can you think about talking at a time like this?”

  “Because, I should have spent more time talking to you from the beginning.”

  Katie nodded, encouraging him.

  “I love you. I’ve wanted to marry you since the first time you met my eyes, I think. I couldn’t think of anything but you.”