Honor Bound (5 page)

"Eight other
warriors...and Itzal." She watched him as she buttoned her
pants. "You don't have to do this. I told you before, you don't
owe me anything."

He ignored everything
except the part he seemed to want to hear. "Itzal is the
leader?"

"Yes." She
hurried into her boots and buckled on her sheath. "He's a
skilled fighter. A dangerous one."

"And he's in my
territory. I have traps all around here." He pulled another gun
from the closet and held it up. "Do you know how to shoot? The
bullets are bespelled to hurt demons."

"I should try not
to shoot myself, then." She took it and nodded to the door. "Is
there a good trail away from the village? One the squad can follow?"

"There are a few.
For some reason, your people seem to favor the western path."

"There's a hidden
spot up on the ridge where we make base camp. There's an old bunker
there, stocked with supplies." She stuck the gun in her
waistband and sheathed her knife, then headed for the door.

Orion caught up to her
before she hit the top step. "I have blinds along the western
path. Traps. One weapons cache."

"It's the
likeliest place to find them, in any case." She hesitated and
then blurted out, "We don't have to fight them, Orion. You could
help me sneak past them." She'd end up fighting them all
eventually, but he didn't need to know that.

His dark eyes studied
her for a moment in silence, then he snorted. "Lying to a
werewolf is pointless."

She gave him a tight
smile. She wasn't particularly worried about the other eight warriors
in her squad, but no one had ever beaten Itzal. Not even with the
best of odds. "Then let's go."

Orion sensed Cavil a
second before the Alpha stepped out into the path in front of them,
his eyes cold. "You surprise me, demon. Though I guess I should
have realized what an asset he'd be."

Amaia's hand crept
toward the hilt of her knife. "I'm leaving so your village will
be safe. I don't want trouble with you."

"You
are
trouble," Cavil shot back. "Trouble that shouldn't have
been brought here in the first place."

There wasn't time to
argue. Orion stepped forward, putting himself between Amaia and the
Alpha. "And now she's trouble that's leaving. You, however, have
your own troubles, Cavil. Your Elders conspire behind your back."

"I know what the
Elders have planned. It's a stupid idea, one they won't have the
chance to implement." He stared at Orion, then at Amaia. "You're
going with her."

"Someone has to
protect the pack. The Elders put us all in danger."

Cavil's eyes flashed in
the moonlight. "
You
put us in danger. I'll stop the Elders, so there's no need for you to
leave with the demon." He tilted his head, his gaze roving over
Amaia. "But you still will, won't you, Orion?"

The wolf rose hard and
fast, demanding he challenge Cavil. Not just for his place as Alpha—a
place Orion could fill with ease—but for daring to cast
covetous eyes on a woman so clearly belonging to someone else.

To
him
.

His quiet snarl filled
the night air, and he stepped forward. "Unlike the rest of you,
I still believe in honor."

"Of course it's
about honor," Cavil sneered. "It couldn't possibly be about
the fact that you've already managed to chew up her neck." He
stepped aside with a disgusted noise. "Go. Good riddance."

The temptation to stay,
to force the issue, bordered on overwhelming. But he had more than
himself and his pride to think about. He gestured to Amaia without
looking away from Cavil, indicating for her to take the lead.

She hurried past the
Alpha without another look, moving down the path. Cavil watched them,
not making a move, but also not turning his back. Orion promised
himself that he'd deal with the Alpha later and strode after her.

She looked tense,
rigid. "You'll have trouble with him when you get back."

"I'll probably
have to challenge him," he replied, his weariness sounding in
his voice. "It's been a long time coming."

"You don't want to
be Alpha?"

He did. He didn't. He
had no idea. It was a question that haunted him daily. He had the
power inside him to guide the pack and protect it, that wasn't the
question. But the direction in which he wanted to guide the pack...
Some of the younger wolves would support being brought into the
present, but the Elders would fight him, tooth and nail. Some might
even challenge him themselves.

Some might look at
Callisto and see her as leverage.

Amaia still watched
him, so he shrugged one shoulder. "It's complicated."

He thought she might
question him further, but she just nodded and turned back to the
trail. "You mentioned traps."

Her soft, distant tone
reminded him he needed to reclaim his own detachment. He closed his
eyes and tilted his head back, letting the breeze carry the scents of
the wood to him. It had always soothed him before, but this time the
wind carried
her
scent, musky and intoxicating, and he had to struggle to ignore it as
he emptied himself of emotion with brutal efficiency.

"Traps," he
murmured after several tense heartbeats. "The first one is about
three hundred yards down the path. A magical tripwire and a pit. You
should stay behind me, because it's only triggered by demons."
He opened his eyes and gave her a feral grin. "Our shamans are
good."

She stopped and watched
as he walked past her. Something hot flashed in her dark eyes, the
same look she'd given him in his bed. Then she blinked and smiled
lazily. "Whatever you say."

He smiled and veered
off the path, leaving her to pick her way through the dense
underbrush behind him. The power of the wild thrummed in his blood,
and he opened himself up the tiniest bit to the wolf inside,
sharpening his senses and his instincts.

They were still twenty
yards from his first trap when the scent on the wind told him it
wasn't empty. He stopped and held up a hand, his fist closed, and
tried to listen to the sounds of the forest around him.

She sucked in a quiet
breath, and the soft sound of her blade sliding against leather broke
the tense silence. Her hand landed on his shoulder, and she pointed
with her knife to the pit and then beyond, to the other side of the
path. "A trap of their own," she whispered.

If they
were
there, they were good enough to be silent. He studied the pit for a
few moments, mapping the territory around it in his mind. Then he
nodded. "Circle around. Two minutes."

She crept around him
and disappeared into the brush.

He counted his steady
heartbeats and waited, straining his ears for some hint of her
passage. She moved through the woods with the skill of a trained
tracker, any noise she made covered in the creaking of ancient pines
and the sound of the wind in the trees.

When he'd given her
enough time to move into place he started forward again, his feet
finding a silent path through the brush without thought. A muffled,
choked noise drew his attention, and a woman sprang out of the
shadows, two knives glinting in the moonlight.

He dodged the first
blade by wrenching his body out of the way as he reached for her
other wrist, adrenaline making it easy to summon the strength he held
back most of the time. The bones in her wrist snapped. She dropped
her knife and hissed in pain but didn't scream, and a sharp jerk
brought her free hand up. The edge of her blade caught his shoulder,
a scratch more than anything, and he waste no more time. His own
small dagger slid into his grasp, the hilt a cool, comforting weight
in his hand, and he wrenched her off balance and dragged the blade
across her throat without preamble.

The demon dropped to
the ground, already dead, and Orion jerked his head in the direction
of the pit as a shot rang out. He left the demon on the ground and
launched himself toward the path.

Amaia stood over the
pit, the borrowed gun in her hand. He skidded to a stop a few feet
away and glanced at her. "The third one?"

"Marko." She
lowered her arm and tilted her head. "You're bleeding."

He shook his head to
dismiss her concern. "Marko's the one in the pit, or Marko's
still out there?"

"There's no one
out there." A tiny shiver ran through her. "One in the
trap, two to lie in wait for an ambush. Three dead."

So she'd killed two of
them. "Six left."

Amaia tore her gaze
away from the pit, her eyes tormented. "Go home, Orion."

"No."

She tested the barrel
of the gun and shoved it back into her waistband. Anger vibrated off
of her, and she avoided his eyes as she stomped around the pit and
down the path.

With the wolf riding
him and the mark of his teeth on her slender neck, he couldn't stop
himself. He caught up to her in three long strides and grasped her
shoulders, jerking her body back against his. "Is it so
impossible for you to accept help?"

She went rigid. "Is
it so impossible for you to understand I don't want to see you hurt?"
He couldn't see her face, but he could smell the salt of her tears.
"Do you have any idea how few people survive this kind of hunt?
Even with help?"

He sheathed his knife
and slid his hands down her arms until he could twine his fingers
with hers. She smelled like his soap and his body, like sex and the
hunt. Intoxicating smells. Arousing ones. Adrenaline still pounded
through him as he lowered his mouth to her ear. "How many of
them have the strongest warrior in a werewolf pack helping them?"

"Fine." Even
through her anger, her back arched until her ass grazed his cock. "We
fight."

"We fight."
He slid his hand around to her stomach and splayed his fingers across
her body in an possessive fashion. "And we win."

Amaia turned her face
to his. "Then what?"

"Whatever we
want." He bit her jaw, and satisfaction raged through him when
she hissed in pleasure.

But it was nothing
compared to the elation he felt at her reply. "Then let's get to
work."

Chapter
Four