Blood Bond (12 page)

Her eyes softened, and she brushed back his
hair with a motherly gesture. “There is no way to undo the last six years,
Sorin. I followed Mother’s lead when she ostracized you. The Pack made no
attempt to intercede, and when you went to the vampires, you were considered
dead to many.” Her voice broke. “I shouldn’t have been one. If I had been older
and wiser—“

“It doesn’t matter.” It truly didn’t. A
void inside him had already begun to fill with her words, and he realized his
anger had never been with her for not acknowledging him as her brother or
defying their mother. His anger was more general, aimed at all members of the
Pack who had allowed his mother’s lover to beat him, and then hadn’t said a
word when his mother left him naked and bleeding, with the word
Abomination
carved on his chest. None had come to his assistance, causing the anger to
increase.

Six years had turned the rage to a dull,
bitter emotion he carried around without thought. He could feel it fading away
as he met the teary eyes of his sister. His own eyes blurred, and he closed
them, pretending he was close to sleep in an attempt to hide his sudden
vulnerability. The process of forgiveness might have begun, but he wasn’t ready
to announce it to anyone else, even the sister who seemed to want to know him.

* * * * *

Lucian’s wolf eyes scanned the forest in
front of him when he lifted his head from sniffing a footprint. The man—and he
knew it was a man from the smell he left—was probably a skilled hunter. It had
taken Lucian almost an hour to find any trace of him, but a mile back, his prey
had grown careless and left a footprint. Now, a mile later, there was a partial
imprint of the heel of his boot. The man’s scent lingered heavier in the air,
letting Lucian know he was close.

He increased his pace, allowing his nose
and instincts to guide him. He sent his mental powers out ahead of him,
searching for the presence of another. During the hunt, he had occasionally
sensed the essence of other wolves and assumed they must have joined the hunt.
His focus remained on the man who had tried to kill Sorin, and he filtered out
the odor of any other werewolf in the vicinity.

He jerked when his mental tentacles
collided with a human presence. He was pleased to note the underlying scent of
fear in the man’s stink when he breathed in deeply. He could sense the other’s
flagging energy and once more increased his pace, knowing his prey would tire
much sooner than he would.

His extra burst of speed brought him to the
top of a hill, where there was a partial clearing, ringed by fallen logs. A
form crouched low near an overturned tree. Lucian saw the glint of silver as
the man shot his crossbow. Instinct made him twist away, and the arrow whistled
by him with several inches to spare. He didn’t allow the hunter to make another
shot as he jumped from an awkward angle.

Lucian righted his gait in mid-leap and
landed on the back of the hunter, knocking the man to the ground and pinning
him there. He transformed into human-form and resisted the urge to tear out the
man’s throat without getting answers to the questions he should ask. “Who are
you?” There was still a heavy growl in his tone, making the question
animalistic in sound. The man seemed disinclined to answer, so Lucian cupped
his throat and tightened his grip. “Answer me.”

“A-abel Schneider,” the man managed to push
out breathlessly, with a thick German accent. He had little volume, because Lucian
hadn’t eased his grip.

“What are you doing in our forest, human?”
Schneider’s blue eyes looked close to popping onto his cheeks. The stench of
urine filled the air, and Lucian growled with disgust. He did loosen his grip
slightly, in case the man’s wide eyes were caused by strangulation, rather than
fear.

“I am a hunter.” The answer was a thin
squeak.

Lucian roared, “Who were you hunting when
you shot my mate?”

Schneider seemed reluctant to answer, but
apparently, the rage in Lucian’s eyes convinced him remaining silent would be
even worse for him than imparting the truth. “I came to Corsova to hunt
werewolves.”

He had already guessed that, from where the
man had been hunting, his choice of targets, and the weapon he was using. “How
did you find out about werewolves in Corsova?” He shook the man, finding a bit
of his rage lessened when the man squealed with pain.

“I met a woman in Belarus. After time in
her company, I admitted to her that I had come to Belarus to kill a wolf.”

“Why?”

“This wolf is legend. His pack terrorizes
small villages, preying on livestock and fools who stray across their path.”
Schneider paused to swallow, and Lucian tightened his grip again. When he spoke
once more, his voice was thin with the struggle to speak and breathe at the same
time. “No hunter has been able to slaughter the alpha wolf, and I was
determined to do so.”

Lucian curled his lip. “And did you?”

“No. The woman persuaded me to pursue
bigger game. She showed me something amazing…transformed into a wolf. Told me
about this country…told me about the Alpha of the Pack.” A glint of excitement
gleamed in Schneider’s eyes. “I knew I had to kill the one called Rica.”

“How did you get into the country?”

“The woman acted as my guide. She said she
couldn’t openly enter the country and had me hide her in a trunk, after she
drank something she said would keep anyone from detecting her presence. She
needed my essence to shield her own, and I needed her to show me where to find
the Pack.”

Unease stirred in Lucian. “Who is this
woman?”

“Her name is Sian.”

Lucian jumped when he heard the name,
inadvertently tightening his grip. Schneider’s gasping made him realize what he
was doing, and he looked down dispassionately. The hunter’s eyes bulged again,
and his skin had taken on a blue cast.

He was debating about whether to tighten
his grip or just render the hunter unconscious when he heard a movement. Lucian
looked up and saw at least a dozen wolves emerging from the forest. As they
formed a ring around him and the hunter, Schneider’s eyes shone with fear.

He released his grip and stood up. He met
the eyes of a midnight-black wolf and nodded. “He came here to kill Rica. I’ll
leave him to you, shall I?” He had business at the castle, if only it weren’t
too late. Lucian didn’t spare another glance for the hunter as he morphed into
wolf-form and set off at a run, hoping to reach the castle in time to assist
Starr. Warning her had taken precedence over avenging his mate, but Lucian knew
Sorin would have made the same decision.

Besides, what did it matter? Whether by his
hand or not, the hunter would be just as dead by morning.

Chapter 8

A soundless cry escaped Anca as the dagger
tore into her shoulder, just inches away from her heart, which surely had been
Sian’s target. Starr froze for a second when she realized they had been granted
an extra moment to act due to Sian’s careless aim. Sian’s howl of rage as she
wrenched the dagger free and raised it again broke Starr’s paralysis.

Somehow, though Rica was the closest, Starr
reached Sian first. She gave no thought to transforming to wolf-form as she
rushed the other woman and knocked her to the stone floor. Sian’s head
connected with a dull thud, and her fingers loosened their hold on the dagger.

Starr held her down as one of the
men—either Lasile or Jan—wrested the knife from Sian and tossed it across the
room. She kept her full weight on the woman until each man took one of Sian’s
wrists and lifted her to her feet, holding her straining body between them.

Starr turned away from them, but couldn’t
block out the sound of Sian’s vile insults. She rushed to Anca and bent to
examine the wound. It was already healing, thanks to Anca’s heritage, but she
reached out to push back the section of pajama, to see how deeply the dagger
had plunged, to rule out any damage that wasn’t obvious. An inch from Anca, she
hissed with pain when she encountered what felt like a field of electricity and
withdrew her hand. She whirled back to Sian. “What magic is this?”

Sian’s eyes glittered. “A binding spell I
learned from Nikia’s mother’s people, while I was in Belarus. Only I can
penetrate or release the spell.”

“Then release it.”

The other woman laughed, but gave no other
answer.

Starr’s anger built inside her as the mad
laugh echoed around the chamber. “Undo the spell, and you might live through
this.”

A strange expression crossed Sian’s face,
but it wasn’t one of fear. Rather, it was joy. “That enticement holds no
promise for me. A death is necessary to complete the spell.” Her mouth twisted
as she glared at Anca, who was attempting to break free from the nearly
invisible light-purple bands binding her, but having no luck. “Now that the
original sacrifice is thwarted, I know what must be done.”

Starr eyed her with confusion. “What are
you talking about? What spell? The binding spell?”

It happened in seconds, even before Starr
finished questioning her. Sian slammed her booted foot onto one of the men’s
bare feet. He howled with pain and released his hold on her at the unexpected
assault. Before the other man holding her could get a better grasp, Sian raked
her nails down his cheek and kicked his knee. She broke free in the process and
ran to the window.

Starr saw it all happening and tried to
stop her, as did Rica and Ellie. None reached Sian in time, and she paused for
only a second to look directly at Anca. “Nikia will avenge me.” Then she
plunged through the stain-glass window and seemed to hang suspended in mid-air
for a long second, before gravity re-exerted its control, and she fell from
sight. She uttered no sound, and there was a stunned silence in the room,
making it impossible to miss the sickening thud of Sian’s body against the
cobblestone several stories below.

Colors whirled behind Starr’s eyes, and she
felt light-headed. The room spun around her, and she barely noticed Anca and
Demi were free from the binding spell as she fell to the floor and the vision
consumed her.

A cinnamon-haired woman—once voluptuous,
but now gaunt—lay in a hospital bed. Her eyes blinked under her lids, and the
monitors measuring her heart and brain activity beeped rapidly. Her eyes
snapped open, and she sat up in bed, seeming to be looking straight at Starr,
although Starr couldn’t see where her body was in the vision.

Before she could learn anything else,
consciousness returned to her in the form of smelling salts. She gasped for air
and sat up so quickly her head spun again. The Protector was crouched before
her, holding a vial. The words formed of their own accord, as though put into
her mind. She couldn’t seem to hold them in, to find a way to prepare Anca for
the news. “Nikia is awake. Somehow, Sian found a way to revive her.”

* * * * *

Lucian had made good time, but not so much
so that he arrived in time to assist. By the time he made it to the royal
chambers, the excitement had passed. Servants had already removed Sian’s body
from the courtyard and hidden it away. It was destined for a funeral pyre
without ceremony in an undisclosed location.

Starr was in the sitting room of the queen
and king’s chamber, sipping tea, when he came in, and she was so relieved to
see him that she nearly got up and ran to him. She appeared outwardly calm, but
her heart still raced. Although nearly an hour had passed since Sian plunged
through the window, she still felt shaky. Having Lucian hold her would take
away the last of her anxiety, but that was impossible, with the Protector in
the room.

The queen and king were in pajamas. The
werewolves who had accompanied Starr sat on a large couch, and all wore robes
bearing the symbol of Corsova—two cupped hands around a red orb. It represented
the Protector guarding the life source of the people, which was blood. They had
grudgingly accepted the garments pressed on them by Helena, personal maid to
Anca.

He seemed to have no thought of restraint
for convention’s sake. Lucian went to Starr without even greeting the king and
queen. He dropped to his knees beside the chair she occupied and leaned forward
to kiss her. At the last moment, she turned her head, and it became an awkward
hug. She hated the flash of pain in his eyes, but knew they couldn’t reveal
their betrayal of Corsovan tradition in so blunt a way.

He cleared his throat and regained his
feet, pausing to bow to Anca and Demi, before turning back to Starr. “When I
left Sorin, his sister assured me he would recover.”

Starr breathed a sigh of relief. She stared
down into the cup of tea she held and tried to make out a pattern in the tea
leaves, but saw none. She had never been able to see the future from reading
the dregs, and apparently, her new surge in power didn’t make her any more
adept with the skill.

Anca cleared her throat, and every eye
shifted in her direction. She wore a soft smile. “I am pleased to hear of
Sorin’s recovery and thankful to have such loyal subjects.” She looked at Rica
and Ellie, dipping her head. “I also extend my gratitude to the Pack. I hope
this will lead to a new…understanding between our people.”