Scent of Valor (Chronicles of Eorthe #2) (7 page)

Chapter Eleven

Peder gripped the metal bars that separated him from Kele. They groaned under the strain but refused to bend. Helpless, he couldn’t do anything as the guards dragged her to join the other females. One by one, they led them inside the gated compound until Kele disappeared from sight. He hit the bars with the palms of his feral hands.

“Looks like we might have a mated pair.” One of the guards poked Peder in the gut hard with a long staff. “Which one is she, hunter?”

Jerking from the sharp thrust, Peder struggled to breathe. Every instinct in his body cried to break through the cage and eat the vampire’s face. It was dangerous to remain in feral form for so long. Shifters had to change to civil form often or their feral side would seek to take over. Then again, some shifters were just born feral like Sorin’s father. The somber thought cooled his fury better than a bucket of cold water. He shook his head and said, “Not mated.”
Not yet.

The other male shifters stirred around him, bumping shoulders and snarling at the cramped space.

“Listen up.” Timothy stalked around the cage, assessing them through the bars. “You will exit one at a time and be accompanied into the compound. The first one to fight dies.” He pointed to archers standing on the walls above them, arrows drawn and ready.

Peder didn’t care about escaping. He wanted inside the compound to check on Kele. No screams carried through the doorway, which gave him a small measure of hope. Shoving past the males, he made it to the door first.

Timothy eyed him. “Not you. To the back. You’ll be the last one out.”

He blinked. “Why?” Oh yeah, he had tried to attack Timothy moments ago. Why couldn’t he take his own advice and stay unnoticed? What was wrong with him? “I’ll be good. I promise.” He ducked his head and pinned his gaze to Timothy’s boots.

He snorted. “That act won’t work with me, hunter. To the back or I’ll have them dart you again.”

A growl rolled in Peder’s chest and his claws extended. By his hairy ass, he couldn’t seem to shut up. Twisting around, he went to the back of the cage and tossed himself down next to Nahuel.

“Very smooth. I like your idea of being quiet and meek.” He chuckled and elbowed his side.

Peder gave a resigned laugh. “I’m very good at giving advice. Apparently, I’m terrible at following it.” He folded his knees against his chest and rested his head against them. “I just want to make sure she’s okay, that’s all. It’s got nothing to do with dominance.”

“You love her.” Nahuel watched the vampires transport the other males out of the cage one at a time. He didn’t seem in any hurry to move.

Peder eyed him and took in his scent. He smelled of fear more than anger. The last thing he needed was to get involved in a fight within the crowded cage over Kele. Not to mention, he kind of liked the hunter. “Yes.” He whispered it so the guards wouldn’t hear. “But keep that to yourself. They’ll use it against me if they find out.”

He snorted. “I’m pretty sure they figured it out already.”

Leaning his head against his knees, he sighed. “I’m usually not this stupid.” Like Susan would say, he had to get his shit together.

“Most males are when it comes to females.” His gaze moved from the bloodsuckers to Peder. “How did they catch you? I don’t smell any other Apisi with us.”

“They got me in the mountain pass. I was by myself.” He met Nahuel’s stare, something he wouldn’t have tried months ago. “I was on my way to challenge you.”

The hunter’s lips curled on his muzzle, exposing his canines. “I would have cleaned the ring with you.”

Peder ears came forward and waggled in amusement. “I know.”

“Ha!” He smacked Peder’s thigh. “I’ve no intention to stand in your way, Peder, not after watching her moon over you. She’s yours.”

“I wish it were that easy.” He didn’t really know Kele. They’d spent a few days together, with him as her captive, then exchanged some letters. It was enough to feel like they’d made a connection. She definitely didn’t seem the type of female who would let males make decisions for her. He suspected if she’d heard their conversation, there would be new bite marks on both their hides.

Nahuel got to his knees and crept toward the open cage door where a vampire waited for him. He didn’t struggle as they led him into the compound.

“Your turn, lover boy.” Timothy came for him.

Peder swallowed the lump in his throat. Timothy didn’t smell like vampire, yet his aura sent out waves of powerful energy. Whatever he was, the vampires seemed comfortable working for him. From Peder’s limited experience, he thought that was unusual.

Creeping forward, he gently maneuvered his way out of the cage without falling flat on his face.

Timothy nodded toward the doorway and followed his progress.

Inside, everyone had been lined up and most had been relieved of their chains. A vampire was working on releasing Nahuel from his restraints. Another guard, carrying keys, approached Peder as he settled in next to the Yaundeeshaw hunter. He spotted Kele at the far end of the line.

She rubbed her wrists and watched the guards. He hoped she didn’t do anything silly. He thought he’d proved that didn’t work.

Timothy strode along the line of shifters until he reached the females. With an incredibly swift hand, he pulled out the smallest prisoner and dragged her in front of them on her knees.

Even though she was in her feral form, Timothy dwarfed her. She panted and the air soured with her fear.

“Let me go over the rules. Do as you’re told and all will be well.” He drew a long knife from a thigh sheath and rested the blade against her throat. “Shift to civil form.”

Peder glanced at Nahuel, who shook his head.

The others remained unchanged as well, but they couldn’t stay in feral form forever.

Timothy ran his blade across the female’s throat. It cut deep into her flesh.

A crimson flood pulsed from between her fingers as she clutched to keep her wound closed. Her mouth opened but no sound came out. Wide eyes pleaded with her packmates but it was already too late. She fell forward.

Timothy rolled her out of his way with his foot as he returned to the females in the line. He captured Kele’s wrist and dragged her beside the female’s lifeless body.

Peder’s heart plummeted so fast he fought vertigo.

Forcing Kele on her knees, the slaver set the edge of his knife on her throat. “I said shift.” His voice crashed over them like an avalanche.

Peder thought of his trigger memory—the thing that made him change shape. The golden fur covering his body receded back into his skin as joints smoothly shrank and reformed to civil form. He glanced at the line and only half of them had followed Timothy’s order.

Without permission, he raced to the closest shifter and shook his shoulders. “Do it. Now.” He mimicked the tone Sorin used when dealing with drunken and disorderly hunters at times. His command snapped the hunter’s spine to straighten but he shifted.

Peder pointed at the others line. “Do it or I’ll kill you myself.”

Kele held her breath as Timothy’s blade pressed harder against her windpipe.

“That one really likes you, pretty girl.” The slaver ran his thumb up and down the nape of her neck. She didn’t like his sinister tone and could almost hear the wheels of his thoughts squeak as he followed Peder’s progress down the line.

Peder’s shoulders rolled with a hunter’s grace as he paced the line ordering the others to shift. The snap of his voice, the way he jabbed his finger in a bigger hunter’s chest, all the while shouting at him to comply, reminded Kele of her alpha.

Who was this male? She couldn’t pull her gaze from him.

He spun to face them. “You too, Kele.”

A growl rumbled low in her chest. He could order the others, but not her. Bad enough she had vampires laying claim to her flesh, killing her parents, and destroying her life. She couldn’t be forced to do another thing even if living depended on it. That male had a lot of nerve thinking he could command her after months of silence. Where was the gentle, shy omega she’d fallen in love with?

He knelt in front of her as an equal. “Please.”

She blinked. Oh, there he was.

Most shifters’ trigger memories were filled with love and warmth. Hers was of fury. What did that say about her? She recalled Benic as he dragged an unconscious Susan away from her true love and the pure white heat of rage returned. Her body rearranged its bones and tissues until she kneeled before Peder, naked.

His gaze raked over her, scalding her with such intense possession she almost forgot they had an audience until Timothy’s laugh broke her daze.

He returned the blade to his sheath and signaled someone. A group of female shifters hurried toward them carrying armloads of clothes. They dropped a bundle at the new arrivals’ feet. The dead look in their eyes sent a shiver up Kele’s spine.

She would die here.

Peder slid the coarse woolen dress over her head and guided her numb arms through the sleeveless armholes before rising to belt his kilt around his hips. What would they do now? The body of the murdered female was dragged away, leaving a smear of her life blood on the ground. The guards obviously didn’t care for their well-being. Would she be sold to the highest bidder? Could she bow and scrape to some lord just to stay alive?

A gentle caress cradled her cheek. Green eyes she’d dreamt about every night for the last seven months stared back at her. She finally had him within her grasp.

He slid his hands under her elbows and helped her to her feet. The others were already being ushered toward what appeared to be a huge cage with pallets lining the wall. Around fifteen shifters were already waiting to be sold inside. Their blank stares mirrored hers.

“Goldie,” Timothy called.

Peder slowed and drew her behind him. “Yes.”

Timothy strode up to him and slapped him across the face, jerking Peder’s head to the side. The sound echoed within the compound. “Yes, what?”

Red bloomed across Peder’s cheek. He tossed him a questioning glance. “Yes, Alpha?”

Anther slap. This one had him staggering against her.

“Stop it.” She tried to get around Peder, but it seemed like he’d grown extra arms to keep her. “He’s trying.”

Timothy’s black gaze landed on her. “She likes you back, Goldie. Lucky boy.” He leaned forward and inhaled. “But you’re not mated. Interesting.” He stroked Peder’s hair. “You refer to me as master.” He gripped a handful of Peder’s golden locks and yanked him kissing close. “They seem to listen to you. So you keep the order or she gets punished.” He pointed at her.

Peder had been right. They should never have attracted attention. Timothy released him and stalked away.

She gave Peder’s arm a gentle tug and led him inside what she could only compare to a common pack room.

A large male with blue markings on his skin faced Nahuel. He stood, feet apart and muscles tense, and the bulk of his muscle rivaled Sorin’s. She didn’t think he’d come to welcome them.

Chapter Twelve

The holding area was much larger than the transport cage. Metal bars imprisoned them from above and on two sides. The other walls were of stone, much like Benic’s castle. Peder ran his finger over the solid material and picked at the mortar holding it together. Nothing flaked. Too solid to dig through.

Sour smells of shit came from the farthest corner, from what looked like a pit dug in the ground. He made a face, hoping he could wait after nightfall to use it. Besides a narrow makeshift roof protecting the edges of the holding area from rain, there wasn’t much shelter. Thin pallets lined the walls and, thankfully, most seemed unused.

He sensed more than saw Kele’s close presence. The hairs along his arms rose as if in anticipation of her brushing past.

A larger hunter with blue-colored markings loomed over Nahuel. He’d heard stories of the shifter tribes out west doing this to their flesh with ink and needles. And vampires dared call
his tribe
wild. He shuddered. The way the two males paced around each other didn’t bode well. The center area was empty and someone had scratched a challenge ring in the dirt prior to their arrival.

At times like this, he understood how other races would see theirs as barbaric or crazed. Faced with a common enemy and they still fought among themselves. No wonder the vampires had won the war. They, at least, could get along.

Timothy obviously didn’t understand the nature of wolf shifters if he placed different packs and tribes together. Then again, from the way the guards gathered around the large prison area, shouting bets, he suspected Timothy knew exactly what he was doing.

Peder approached Nahuel from behind and sensed him tense. Omegas shied from confrontation. Most would allow themselves to be beaten before striking back. Peder’s heart raced, pumping blood into his limbs in expectancy to fight. He’d lost the urge to cower. He’d witnessed many challenges but had never fought one. Vendu, his packmate, had been impressed by his increased strength, so maybe he could back Nahuel. Break up the challenge if it went too far.

The spectating shifters circled the ring. Nahuel confronted the bigger male. “Cousin.” He nodded in greeting and spoke with a firm voice, a prime example of a born hunter.

“I am not your family.” The challenging male set a hand on Nahuel’s chest. “You’ve trespassed into my area.”

Peder was glad to see the other shifter spectators jerk at his statement. “We’d happily leave if you can open the door.” He pointed to the locked gate. Some hunters thought only with their muscles and their instincts.

Nahuel tossed him a look indicating Peder wasn’t helping the situation. “We had no choice in the matter. We may not be of the same blood, but our plight should bind us as family. Not tear us apart.” He held out his hand to be gripped as hunters from the same pack did. “This isn’t a time for dominance.”

The challenger stared at it, head tilted to the side as if he didn’t know what the gesture meant. Maybe he didn’t. The Iroq tribe, of which the Apisi were a part, was comprised of six packs. Perhaps this shifter wasn’t among them. It wouldn’t surprise him if this shifter was from the far west. Travel outside their border was so infrequent he couldn’t recall the last time the Apisi met another tribe member.

The hunter slapped Nahuel’s hand out of his way, set his palm in the middle of Nahuel’s chest, and shoved so hard Peder’s friend fell back against the wall. The crack of his skull against stone silenced everyone even the vampire guards.

Nahuel slumped to the floor, unmoving.

Peder hurried to him and laid him flat on the floor, then listened to his chest.

Kele knelt next to him. “I’m a healer.” She ran her hands over Nahuel’s scalp and neck. “No obvious signs of injury.”

“His heart still beats.”

She opened Nahuel’s eyelids and peered at his eyes. “He’s probably just knocked out, but I’ll have to keep a close eye on him for a bit.”

Peder’s gaze narrowed as it landed on the attacker. Was this savage permanently feral in the head? Nahuel had only been trying to make peace.

The attacker crossed his arms. “I won the challenge. You will submit to me.”

Kele rested her hand on Peder’s forearm, following where his glare landed on the hunter. “Will we ever get a moment’s peace?” A reddened line ran across her throat from where Timothy’s knife had rested.

“I think our days of peace are gone.” He’d lived this kind of life before, where fear ran in his blood all day and night. Every day. When the old alpha had taken over the pack, Peder had been just a pup of ten winters old and never had a chance to really know any other kind of life but that of terror. Because he had no parents to protect him, the pack had no choice but to let their alpha claim him. Better for one pup to suffer than all of them.

It grew difficult to breathe. He wasn’t a pup anymore. He wouldn’t let this monster abuse another if he could stand in the way. Head held high, Peder mimicked Nahuel’s stance and approached his attacker. “He was wrong. This
is
the time for dominance.” Peder stepped into the challenger’s circle for the first time.

The hunter made a noise of surprise.

Peder didn’t bother to shift as he flung forward, tackling his opponent to the ground. Feral law ruled the ring, but that was only a custom. A few shifters tossed together did not a pack make. There was no hierarchy to be climbed here. This was a male who only wanted to dominate, not to give leadership and structure. This western hunter didn’t deserve feral law.

Sorin had trained Peder hard, claiming repetition would give him the fighting reflexes he needed. He said once inside the ring, Peder wouldn’t have time to think about what to do and his body would take over.

He was a good teacher.

Peder brought the fight to the ground where height and speed wouldn’t make a difference. The hunter was bigger than him with more muscles in his one thigh than Peder owned in both his legs, but he’d been taught by a bigger shifter and he knew how to use his size to his advantage.

Their limbs tangled in punching fists and kneeing legs. He took strike after strike until he couldn’t distinguish the ones he landed from the ones he took. The male’s face warped in his vision. He seemed older up close, much like his old alpha.

Peder gasped and jerked from his hold. Twisting, he shook his head but his vision didn’t clear. The alpha wouldn’t hurt them. Peder would protect this pack of misfit shifters. With a snarl that rolled from the bottom of his soul, he launched another attack, except this fight came from his heart.

He got a good grip on the hunter’s damned wrist. For a big male, he was fast. Peder rolled from under him all the while keeping hold of his arm, dragging it behind his back. With a well-placed knee in the middle of his shoulder blade, he wrenched his hand up until the hunter stopped squirming.

Face in the dirt, the alpha’s whole body tensed as Peder straddled him and landed punch after punch to the head. “No more,” Peder shouted. “No more.” His fist ached with each punch he landed but he couldn’t stop.

The alpha cried out and struggled.

Hands wrapped around his arms and pulled him off the alpha—
no
. He blinked—the hunter. He shook his head and glanced at those holding him down.

Vampires?

One of them poured a bucket of cold water over his head.

He sputtered and spit.

Kele clutched her hands to her chest as she peered around the vampires. She chewed her bottom lip before saying his name.

Slavers. They were with slavers. Not at home. Not…not at home. He shoved the vampires off him. For a shifter, he was average size, but he was still stronger than a bloodsucker when they weren’t darting him.

“Nicely done, Goldie.” Timothy squatted in front of him. “That shifter’s almost twice your weight. You’ve some true fighting skill.” His grin had a sly edge. “And you’ve a wicked streak.”

Peder’s mouth grew parched. All his life, he cared for those in need. It was in his nature, and his role to play in the pack. If a hunter returned injured, an omega tended to them. If a crafter grew lonely, an omega tried to fill that hole. If an alpha couldn’t control his temper…he shuddered. He wasn’t wicked.

Two vampires carried the hunter out of the pen.

Peder’s heart grew heavy. “Is he dead?”

“No, but he might as well be. I can’t sell him in that condition.” Timothy’s gaze traveled over Peder. “But you might be worth your weight in gold. I am happy to have purchased you from Huan.” The shifter exited the pen and locked it with a key hanging at his waist.

Peder rolled on his side and panted. His hands shook. The heat of coming summer rose around him. What had he done? That hunter looked as if he’d hit him with rocks instead of fists.

Something rubbed against his leg.

A strange female. She stroked his calf and bowed her head.

He jerked at her touch and stood. Nausea rolled in his stomach but he fought the urge to vomit. None of them could afford for him to look weak after the peace he’d just won. He was familiar with her posturing. He’d done it enough times.

Another crawled to him and stroked his foot. After years of being omega, unwanted touch was something he’d grown familiar with. Was he truly omega anymore? If he wasn’t, then he didn’t have to do what these females wanted. In truth, they asked what he wanted for a change.

He shook his head, gently pushing their hands away, and strode to a pallet on the far side of the room. His kilt’s waistband was ripped, but with some creative knotting, he got it to sit on his hips once more, if a little low. Dropping on the pallet, he succumbed to exhaustion. He rested against the wall and closed his eyes. If only he could wake from this nightmare. Bending forward, he tried block out the world. He leaned his forehead against his knees and for the first time in months, he prayed.

His hand throbbed with his heartbeat. He examined the swollen knuckles. Served him right to suffer. What had taken over him in the ring? One moment he’d been fighting the strange hunter, the next he’d flashed back onto his old alpha—except he never would have fought the tyrant in reality. It was like he was moonstruck.

Kele knelt next to him. She carried a water skin. “I’m always thirsty after a challenge.” She glared at the omega females who had rubbed his leg. Her threat radiated across the room instantly.

Of its own accord, his gaze traveled to scars and half-healed wounds on her arms. “You fought many challenges since you learned to shift.” He took the skin and drained half of it. The heat seemed almost unbearable.

Outwardly, he needed to appear calm, but inside thoughts tore at his mind as if a beast had been born within his head. Born or already there just waiting to for an opportunity to awaken? He took a shaky breath.

“Peder?” Kele stroked his face. “Are you all right?”

He peered at her under half-closed lids. The fading sun lit upon her pale hair and haloed her head. He hadn’t seen her civil form in months. His memory of her beauty hadn’t faded. “I’m fine. None of his swings landed. He was all muscle and no skill.”

She curled against him and drew his head against her shoulder. “That’s not what I meant.” Her fingertips ran through his hair, getting caught on the knots and tugging his scalp a little. Her scent of winter sharpness filled his nose.

He pulled her into a tight hug.

The scooped neck of her dress sagged enough to give him a glimpse of her breasts. Small and firm with rose-tipped nipples perking against the fabric. Usually viewing nude females after a shift didn’t affect him like this. If he were a wicked male, he’d lay her on this pallet and take what he wanted, even with an audience.

Fuck, just the image of Kele on her back, with those strong legs around his hips, and everyone forced to watch as he claimed her made his cock twitch. He shifted his hips and gathered his kilt in front of his lap to hide his semi-erection. Slowly, he withdrew from her hold. “I’m fine.”

She’d led such a sheltered life compared to his, and he didn’t want to shatter those protective walls around her. In their situation, he imagined she only had a few more hours before one of the slavers did it for him.

He tried to smile but failed utterly. His chest grew tight and he rubbed the growing ache inside. “I lost control.” It was as if his feral side had taken over without him changing shape.

“Sometimes it helps to talk about it.” She stroked his arm, sending arcs of desire back through his body.

With a snort, he shook his head. “No, it makes it worse.” He wished he were home. The others understood without making him put pain into words.

A vampire rang a bell at the gate. “Dinner.”

“Stay here.” She pushed him back down on the pallet and gave him the sweetest, shy smile. “Let me take care of you.”

He stared after her as she gathered their meals.

She wanted to care for him? No one had ever offered before.