by L. L. Raand
“Take the plan to Loris, and advise him it came from me.”
“And Trent?”
Zora growled at the thought of her senior soldiers or her imperator challenging the reckless Were who questioned their strength. If anyone disciplined Trent, it would be her. “I’ll deal with the Timberwolf.”
Chapter Five
Timberwolf Compound
Sylvan strode out of the forest into the clearing in front of the Compound’s main gate, Drake at her shoulder and the centuri arrowing out at their sides. Her imperator, Niki, flanked by Max and the rest of the centuri, plus Callan, the captain of Sylvan’s warriors, formed an impenetrable cordon before the barricades. Sentries lined the battlements, armed with crossbows loaded with iron bolts, a far deadlier weapon against the Fae than bullets. If Sylvan gave the word, two dozen lethal projectiles would neutralize the Fae royal guards arrayed in formation at the edge of the clearing, deep in the heart of Timberwolf territory.
Despite the weapons trained on them, the dozen tall, sylphlike Fae, with the pale, nearly translucent glow of their otherworldly physical manifestations, stood at attention in two rows behind their leader without moving. Their shimmering silver armor bore blue star-shaped emblems on the chest, and weapon belts of the same sky blue held ornate scabbards and longswords with elaborate bejeweled hilts. A slender blond, clearly the leader from his position and stature, stood half a head taller than the rest of the retinue, his shoulder-length, nearly white hair wafting in the breeze, his silver-blue eyes, deep and shadowless. His long, delicate fingers clasped a gold and silver-emblazoned pike upright by his side, the point glittering in the sunlight. Just behind him, another Fae held a banner atop a similar pike, the blue and silver shield against a field of pure white symbolizing Cecilia’s court fluttering from the top.
Sylvan scanned the surrounding forest and saw no evidence of a portal opening into her world from Faerie. The sky overhead was clear and blue. No black void marked a tear in the veil between realms like the one that had spewed forth the revenant Weres and other reanimated creatures they’d fought on Snowcrest land. Still, the presence of potential enemies literally at her gate was tantamount to a declaration of war. That the Fae trespassed was undeniable. She would be within her rights to summarily execute them. Niki undoubtedly would have already done so, if the choice were hers. Sylvan delayed the order to fire for one reason—these Fae must know what they risked by appearing unannounced and without warning like this, but still they had come.
Pride before reason often exacted a high price, and as Alpha, Sylvan could not afford to let instinct alone dictate her decisions. Only in the heat of battle did she give her wolf the freedom to rule. She could never completely suppress her instincts, nor did she want to. This land and all who dwelt there were hers to protect. She dropped the restraints on her wolf and morphed into warrior half-form, a foot taller than her normal skin form, heavier in the chest and thighs, her jaw broader, her canines exposed, and her fingers tipped with full-length claws. Most Weres never achieved the warrior form, and none could hold it as effortlessly as Sylvan.
“I am Sylvan Mir, Alpha of the Timberwolf Pack.” Her power rolled through the Compound, setting off a chorus of howls from her Pack. “You are in violation of our borders. Why?”
The leader lowered the tip of his pike, and the twelve members of the envoy saluted as one, bladed hands over their hearts.
“Alpha Mir,” the leader said, his melodic voice drifting like music on the air, “I am Antulli Ever Born. I bring you glad tidings from Cecilia, Queen of Thorns and All of Faerie, Ruler of Dark and Light, and Mistress of All Seasons.”
As he finished, he lifted his pike back into the upright position and remained at attention, his gaze fixed straight ahead, his expression as calm and cool as if he had been carved from a block of ice. Twelve pikes snapped upright as the rest of the retinue finished their salute.
Sylvan regarded him with arms crossed. “What prompts you to disregard all rules of sovereignty and trespass without invitation?”
“I bear a message from my Queen,” Antulli said.
Niki snarled. “What kind of message requires a dozen armed Fae to deliver? And how, exactly, did you get here?”
“My imperator is right,” Sylvan said. “Cecilia could go through diplomatic channels to reach me. Why the secrecy?”
“We come with more than a message,” Antulli said. “My Queen desires an audience with the Alpha of the Timberwolf Pack. We have been sent to guide you into Faerie.”
Drake pressed her hand to the center of Sylvan’s back. “The Alpha is not leaving our territory. If your Queen wishes an audience, she can request a meeting here.”
“My Queen cannot make the journey.” Antulli kept his attention fixed on Sylvan. “She reminds you of your past alliance and formally requests that you honor your pledge of allegiance.”
Niki pushed forward. “Where was Cecilia when the Timberwolves faced our enemies at Nocturne? Where were the Fae when we fought for the Snowcrest Weres against something sent from Faerie? The Alpha is here. Let your Queen join us if she has words for us to hear. Or are you afraid you will not be able to protect your Queen if she comes out of hiding?”
Midnight rolled through Antulli’s silver eyes, and for an instant, his fragile beauty shimmered. Beneath it, curved horns circled a heavy head with flared nostrils and curving tusks, and a massive four-legged body akin to a mountain caprine. The air crackled with light and color and faded an instant later.
Niki growled and positioned her body between the Fae and Sylvan.
“Hold.” Sylvan gripped Niki’s shoulder and said calmly, “Tell your Queen I pledge her safety and await her presence here in my territory.”
Sylvan spun on her heel, and her centuri fell in behind her.
“Alpha,” Antulli said, his words carrying even though he hadn’t raised his voice, “there are more creatures like the ones that assailed the Snowcrest wolves massing for another strike.”
Sylvan slowed and spun, a growl rolling from her chest. Her warrior form gained mass, her eyes wild and ferocious, and her growl reverberated through the clearing. “You would threaten me on my own land?”
Antulli’s royal guards shuddered, but he did not lower his gaze despite the power that buffeted him like a hurricane. “I bring no threat, Alpha. Only the offer of information that might be of value to you and your Pack. Cecilia extends this gift as a sign of her goodwill.”
“Neutral ground,” Sylvan said. “I will not journey to Cecilia’s court, but I will meet with her on neutral ground, chosen by Lord Torren, who will secure the Gate by which I enter. Torren must be guaranteed safe passage in and out of Faerie, along with me and my centuri. Those are my terms.”
Antulli nodded once. “I will relay the message to my Queen.” The air shimmered, as if a rainbow had shattered upon touching the ground. The colors coalesced into a solid sheet of brilliant light, spun off into the air, and were gone.
“Alpha,” Nikki said urgently, “you can’t—”
Sylvan held up a hand. “I have decided. Summon the war council and Lord Torren to headquarters as soon as possible.”
“As you command.” Niki, broadcasting battle lust with every breath, saluted and signaled to Callan and his warriors to follow her. The gates swung open, Sylvan and Drake entered along with the centuri, and the gates closed once more.
Sylvan headed directly to the two-story building that centered the Compound to await the leaders of her Vampire and Fae allies. As soon as they were alone, Drake gripped Sylvan’s arm. “You can’t mean to go.”
“I have to,” Sylvan said. “If Cecilia has made the first move, it’s only because she feels threatened by something she can’t fight alone. If that’s the case, our enemy is far more powerful than I imagined. We need to know what we’re facing.”
“It’s a trap,” Drake said, her voice heavy with scorn. “You know it. I know it. Why would you risk yourself, now, on the verge of war?”
&nb
sp; Sylvan cupped her cheek. “Because I must. And I’ll have Torren, who has thwarted Cecilia’s power more than once. Cecilia fears Torren more than me.”
“Torren is not my mate,” Drake said, “nor is she the Alpha of our Pack. Without you, we—”
Sylvan slid a hand behind around Drake’s nape and jerked her close. Her kiss was hot and fierce. “I will not leave you or the Pack. By my oath, I will return.”
Drake spread both hands over Sylvan’s chest, tracing the curve of her collarbones with her fingertips and the hard muscles beneath with her palms. She lingered over the mate bite at the junction of Sylvan’s shoulder and neck, that spot warmer than the surrounding flesh. This was the mark of their union, the place where she had claimed Sylvan as hers. Sylvan shuddered. Drake caught Sylvan’s mouth in another kiss and bit her lower lip, hard enough to pull a growl from Sylvan’s throat. “Niki and I will accompany you to the Faerie Gate. One hour Earth time, and if you’re not back, we will come through for you. I will not be concerned about allegiances.”
Sylvan grinned. “I didn’t expect you to give me that long.”
Drake growled. “Don’t test my patience, Alpha.”
“As soon as the war council is over and I have you alone, we’ll see just how patient you can be.”
* * *
Snowcrest Clan Home
Enraged by Zora’s rejection, Trent bounded out of the building and over the porch railing to the hard-packed ground of the training yard. Lust and battle frenzy flamed her vision red. Zora had dismissed her again, as if what had passed between them had meant nothing. Less than nothing. Trent rumbled, a slow steadily rising growl she didn’t bother to hide. She’d welcome a tussle right now—a chance to show pelt and use her teeth and claws on a worthy opponent might bleed off the rage crushing her every breath. Pain might blur the arousal pounding in her loins.
She shouldn’t have any trouble finding someone to goad into a quick, hard tussle. Most of the Snowcrest soldiers would be on guard duty or in the broad training grounds adjacent to the dormitory. Cutting down the narrow alley between the barracks and the mess hall, she quickened her pace. Her skin tightened with the urge to let her wolf emerge. As she rounded the corner onto the field, an arm snaked out and grasped her around the neck, jerking her back into the shadows cast by the two buildings.
Snarling, she twisted, preparing to strike. Before her canines could find flesh, the grip on her neck loosened and she was free. Jace glared at her, hands on hips and face riddled with fury.
“What the hell?” Trent’s battle lust cooled, and she restrained her wolf. Jace was not her enemy.
“What did I tell you!” Jace shoved a hand against Trent’s shoulder, pushing her back against the rough-hewn log wall. Splinters pierced her shirt in bright pinpoints of pain. From anyone else, the act would have been one of challenge, but this was Jace, and they had tussled their entire lives. Now that Jace carried the rank of centuri, Trent owed her the respect her position demanded, and she did not strike back.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Trent fumed.
“How long did it take you to search out Zora after I walked away,” Jace snarled. “Five minutes?”
Trent grinned. “Two.”
Jace prodded her again. “I should send you back to the Compound right now.”
Trent’s wolf surged, Jace’s rank be damned. She wasn’t going anywhere, even if Jace commanded it. Zora was here. She wasn’t leaving. “This is not your concern.”
“Oh, but it is. I’m in charge here, by the Alpha’s command.”
“And I am fulfilling my duty,” Trent said. “You have no cause to discipline me.”
Trent’s resistance bordered on issuing a challenge, but she didn’t care. Jace threatened to come between her and Zora, and nothing mattered more than that. If she had to fight Jace to prove she would not be ordered out of Cresthome, she would. Even if it meant she must leave the Pack. She’d go nomad before she’d let anyone, even the Alpha, keep her from her—
“You’re not mated,” Jace said as if she’d been reading Trent’s mind, puncturing the air in front of Trent’s face with a claw-tipped finger. “And you’re not going to be, no matter what you think you’re doing.”
“You have no idea what I’m doing,” Trent snapped, taking a step forward. Her canines punched down, and she didn’t try to hide them.
Jace’s lip curled, revealing her gleaming canines, but she made no move to attack. “What you’re doing is creating an incident that could destroy the relationship between our Packs. Snowcrest might not survive without our help. Are you willing to be responsible for that?”
Trent stiffened. “I’ve done nothing—”
“Do you call tangling with the Snowcrest Alpha nothing?”
Trent couldn’t deny it. They’d coupled, even if Zora had refused to let Trent satisfy her need.
“Trent,” Jace said, the anger in her voice replaced now by honest concern. “Think past your hormones. Don’t you think I understand what you’re feeling? But you are a Timberwolf, and Zora is the Alpha of this Pack. None of her wolves will accept you touching her.”
“Zora did,” Trent snapped.
“I know that. Don’t you think I can scent her on you? Don’t you think any Snowcrest wolf will be able to as well?”
Trent blew out a breath. “My wolf wants her. If she wants me, I can’t deny her.”
“You mean you don’t want to.” Jace ran a hand through her hair. “Stay away from her if you’re unable to resist answering her call. If Loris or even one of Zora’s guards challenges you, our Weres will retaliate. We’ll precipitate a dominance skirmish, and this entire mission will be compromised. Do you really think Zora wants us here in her territory? Dominant wolves from a larger pack that nearly surrounds her territory? Think. She has no choice but to accept us until she has an army strong enough to stand on its own. She’s already compromised in the eyes of some of her Weres. You could force a challenge to her rule.”
Trent’s gut clenched. “I don’t want to be the cause of endangering her Pack…or her.”
“Then ignore her call. Let someone else answer her need.”
Imagining Zora with another Were, of her taking them the way she’d taken Trent—wild with lust and craving release—shattered Trent’s slender control. She trembled, and her wolf cut scathing tracks through her vitals. “I’m not sure I can.”
“If you can’t, I’ll have to send you down. I can’t risk having the operation disintegrate and our alliance fracture.” Jace clasped Trent’s neck and dragged her close. “And I don’t want to do that. I need you here—remember who you are, Trent.”
Jace’s power rolled over her, and Trent snapped to attention with a thundering salute. “I understand, Centuri.”
Jace’s gaze cooled. “See that you do, Lieutenant.”
Trent spun on her heel and vaulted away. Jace was Pack, but she might no longer be a friend.
Chapter Six
Trent.
The command shot through Trent like a touch, setting her afire. The call came from the forest, clear and sharp and undeniable. Before reason could prevail and she could remind herself of the pledge she’d just made to Jace, the order she had vowed to obey, Trent pelted and dropped to all fours. Racing toward the far reaches of the sanctuary, she avoided the gates where Snowcrest sentries might question her as well as the training grounds where Jace might compel her to stop. Propelled by the urgency of her wolf to claim the one she deemed hers, and the wild rush of anticipation seething in her loins, she vaulted the fence in one long leap. Landing with her limbs already in motion, she tore through the underbrush, heedless of obstacles, forging her own path, unerringly drawn to the echoes of Zora’s command pulsing in her veins.
She ran for close to a mile, deeper and deeper into unmarked, old-growth forest, until she suddenly broke through dense brambles beneath thickly grouped towering evergreens into a clearing the width of a small pond carved out of the mountainside.
Meadow grass, topped with golden chaff and small white and purple flowers, carpeted the ground around the water. A rocky overhang curved around the bowl of green, and a rushing stream pockmarked with boulders bordered the downhill side. Another time she might have stalked the tall grass for a hare to startle into running in order to give chase, or stretched out by the cold, clear water for a drink, but not today. Today all her attention was riveted to the wolf who’d already staked claim to the clearing.
Zora, muzzle resting on her forepaws, eyes alert and upright ears flickering, rested on one of the huge fingers of rock extending from the piney ridge overhead down to the water’s edge.
Gaze fixed on Zora, Trent settled back onto her haunches and waited.
Zora had called her. Trent would not move first.
Zora’s wolf chuffed, stretched, and in the time it took Trent to draw another breath, Zora shed pelt. She sat looking down at Trent, brilliant and beautiful in her nakedness.
Trent’s heart pounded as she pushed past her wolf to shed pelt and stand on two legs. Cocking her head, she grinned up at Zora. “You called?”
“You’ll find a niche under the rocks over there,” Zora called, reaching behind her and coming out with a pair of plain black cotton pants. She stood and pulled on the pants. “You can dress.”
“Your private cache?” Trent called as she reached into the shadows and pulled out a waterproof nylon go bag. Inside were several pairs of T-shirts and pants and two pairs of short leather boots. She left the boots. She’d return to Cresthome the way she’d come, in pelt. Taking her time, she crossed the clearing and stopped beneath Zora’s perch, the clothes in her hand. Zora was watching her, and the intent way her gaze moved over Trent’s skin fanned the simmering coals deep in Trent’s belly. The inferno quickly spread lower, and her clitoris grew pronounced and firm. She grinned, knowing Zora would be able to tell just exactly what had happened. Why hide her arousal? Zora had instigated it.
