Roderick bit back on his smile at the cantankerous witch’s clipped tone. The very sharp dagger blade glistened wetly, like honey. “I might be able to wheedle some out of them. An army of Dark Watchers led by the Queen is bad for everyone.”
Rowan scoffed. “Clearly. They’ve also clearly been slacking on their duty to those in this realm if this could happen under their very noses.”
“I agree.”
The witch looked slightly surprised by his statement but it mollified her for the moment. “We’ll work on the amber,” Rowan said, motioning to her sisters before turning back to the table she’d been seated at. “And if you think this will be easy, it won’t. Fighting back whatever the Queen is sending our way. Your feral vampire is conspicuously absent, Ranger, and I fear whatever he has in store for you is tied in with those feathers we’ve been finding.” Rowan squared her shoulders and for the first time Octavia saw fear creep in behind her eyes. “Wilderwood is my home, too, no matter where I go to after this. I won’t see it fall if I can help it.”
Octavia waited until the others had filed out. Roderick and Gregory were meeting the Rangers, Bel was going with some of the clan scouts to circle back to the field where the cows had been slaughtered. Her plan was to take Ruby and Harken, who were both sensitive to magic, and triple check every corner of the house, from attic to cellar, to ensure windows were boarded up, doors barred, lines of limestone and salt drawn to hopefully repel some magic.
“Octavia, wait.” She froze, hand on the door, and turned to find the sisters looking at her. Eyebrow arched, she stepped back inside and shut the door.
There was some shuffling as Rowan and Merry sat, leaving Tempest to approach Octavia. “Here.”
The witch dropped a vial in her hand, the liquid inside dark red and thick. Octavia could already smell the blood, its potency. “Why?”
“You are Wilderwood’s protector,” Tempest said softly. “We have been here almost as long as you have and in all my years I’ve never seen someone work as hard as you do to keep everyone safe. That kind of bond is special. Sacred.” She looked away, over to her sisters. “This is our gift to you for being so kind to us over the centuries. We may not stay in Wilderwood after this is over, but you will. And you will persevere, Octavia.”
Octavia heard Merry murmur, “You must, for all our sakes.”
And yet she hesitated. The blood of a witch was incredibly powerful. It would enhance her speed, her strength; let her strike harder, faster. The blood of witch triplets could let her do the impossible. She knew logically it was a tool like anything else. But all that power simply handed to her felt wrong. “Do you know what it might do?”
Merry shook her head. “I’ve a few guesses. It’ll burn fast through your system once you drink it so wait until you absolutely need it.”
Octavia’s lips twitched. “Wait for the opportune moment.”
Merry nodded. “Not a moment sooner, or it might be for naught.”
“So no pressure, then.” Octavia huffed as she stared at the vial resting on her palm. “I know I’ve said it before but thank you for everything you’ve done over the years to keep the town safe.” Rowan’s fingers faltered on the amber she was carving and it was enough. There was a lot to glean from that little fumble but now was not the time.
“Be careful with the blood, Octavia.” Rowan’s words hit like a slap. “The comedown will be intense. You won’t feel like yourself. Best to stay away from others until you are in control once more.”
That was ominous but not entirely surprising. She remembered how past injuries had affected her, how badly she craved blood after the viedezan matriarch had poisoned her. Pushing herself to her limits wasn’t something she’d ever done and if the danger were less, the threat less, she would have refused. But she couldn’t afford to. Octavia tucked the vial away and left the sisters to their work, the door closing shut firmly behind her.
That vial felt like a boulder in her pocket. Her albatross. The unspoken thing that thrummed in the background because of what she was. Her mentor, the Count, had told her time and time again that the hunger was a vampire’s true weakness. Starve a vampire long enough and they went blood-mad, become vice and avarice that could wipe out a village in a night.
“This is why we don’t make others like us, Octavia,” the Count told her one dreary night as rain beat upon the windows of his massive estate. “The chances of them turning out feral are too high. The risk too great.”
“But there’s a chance they wouldn’t be feral, right?” Octavia watched Ludanis swirl his wine in his glass, his gaze distant as he considered his words. “And wouldn’t ferals be able to live off animal blood?”
The Count held up a long-fingered hand. “Technically you are correct. Ferals should be able to live off animal blood. But the temptation of humans is too great. Some have tried exactly what you’re suggesting, my dear, and it never works. Eventually they cave.” He looked away, a furrow between his brows. “The destruction wrought by those ferals is the reason why we keep to ourselves. We don’t give anyone an excuse to hunt us. Not the Rangers, not humans. It’s why I live where and how I do.” Ludanis reached out a hand to her and she took it, felt his fingers curl around hers in a grip tight enough to ensure. “You and Gregory have a lot to learn about this world. I will do my absolute best to protect you, give you the tools you need to live your lives and stay safe. But caution is key. It’s what keeps us alive.”
Octavia had been cautious for hundreds of years; Ludanis’s lessons burned into her mind, branding her with an overabundance of worry that superseded her desires. And after a few hundred years of repression, one either broke or stayed vigilant. There wasn’t much room for a middle ground. Bel had been her answer for one glorious year. One year of using her mind and her body to love, to feed, to protect. To take and give and feel as though she mattered to someone beyond what she could do for the town. She’d taken a year to be selfish in the quieter, darker moments when it was just the two of them.
But she’d failed. And she felt that failure for two years, torn between grief and anger, the edges of her vision colored with an untethered sense of betrayal. She could lose Bel again in all of this, could lose that connection. Could lose the newly formed connection with Roderick.
Octavia curled her hand around the vial in her pocket as she left the manor to find her lovers.
***
“They have a fucking griffin!” Bemora spat, whirling on Luther as they huddled in a cave at the edge of the forest to the north of Wilderwood. “A griffin! They’re all supposed to be dead!”
Luther let her spit and hiss and rage for several more moments before drawing a dagger and holding it to her throat. “Shut. Up.”
Bemora smacked it from his hand. One of the feathers from her wrist fluttered to the ground and they both looked at it and the mottled gray spots on what had once been a perfect black surface. “My time here is very limited and my patience is gone. We should attack tonight. Set a few houses on fire, raze the crops. Let them know what’s coming.”
“The wards aren’t down yet,” he countered, stooping to retrieve his dagger. He wasn’t worried about the hybrid woman doing anything to him. She was fast, but he was faster. “And the whole town stinks of magic. Whatever they did will likely keep us out until the wards come down in entirety. And an old griffin is of no dire concern. We’ll set a dozen Dark Watchers on it.”
“Or we could kill it now.” Bemora’s voice was a thick whisper and the darkness at its edges sent a shiver down his spine.
Luther chuckled. “You and I are destined for something greater, our impatience aside. They scramble to protect against things they don’t understand. And while the Dark Watchers overwhelm the defenders, I’ll handle the Ranger.” Luther held up a hunting knife in the firelight.
The Ranger insignia on the hilt caught Bemora’s eye and she leaned forward. “Going to kill him with his partner’s knife? Cliche.”
He grinned nastily. “No, I’m
going to give it back to him so he can try to kill me with it. Then I’ll take his head off.”
She bared her teeth at him. “And while you’re taking revenge, I’ll have to deal with the vampire and the mage.”
Luther waved his hand at her and she bristled. “The vampire’s barely three hundred and the mage carries the Faelands in their body and is susceptible to the Queen. If I were you, I’d be more worried about the weres. They’re probably as fast and strong as you -”
Bemora’s hand shot out and wrapped around his throat. “There is nothing like me, long-tooth. The Queen made me in her image and that of the strongest creatures of the land. Do not compare me to some ground-sniffing were.” She dropped him and he landed on his feet, fingers going to his neck. “You and I work together because the Queen demands it. But after this, if I see you again I will kill you.”
“It’s a big realm,” he shot back, sitting down once more. “I’d prefer a continent between us at all times.”
“Good.”
***
That night, one day before the wards came down, a contingent of Rangers arrived in the field that had once housed cows and now looked like a military zone. Strewn with barbed wire and pockmarked with holes large enough to hide a body in, it was not the most welcoming greeting to a town most Rangers never knew existed.
Command had told Roderick to expect three or four rangers. When they kept stepping through the portal he was sure something was wrong. “More than you expected?” Bel asked.
“A bit.” Roderick blinked. “Syd? Blazing hells, man!” He stepped forward to be embraced by a man of almost equal height but with a bulkier build. The armor was of a similar design to Roderick’s but done in a dark green leather with gray trim. When they parted, Bel spotted dual ekinad on his back. Long, thin swords that one might see as rapiers, but the blades were hooked at the end, meant to tear and rip. Few ever mastered them in training, and even fewer Rangers used them as their main weapon. Combined with the dark auburn hair and ocean blue eyes and you had one Ranger, and only one.
Bel dipped their head in welcome to the Rangers. They’d gone off the radar a long time ago and they’d made the calculated guess that most of the Rangers sent would be younger rank and file, sent to cut their teeth on a mission. The Rangers didn’t believe in throwing their young to the wolves, so to speak, but they did believe in hands-on experience. And if they had sent Sydnydale Fox as commander, then Wilderwood was gaining an important resource in their fight. Syd only worked with the best of young Rangers.
The younger Rangers likely didn’t know them. Syd most certainly did. They’d come up in the Academy together and Syd moved to the same dormitory hall in their second year. And when Syd and Bel were initially partnered to go into the field, they both opted to work with others. It was better if Rangers weren’t friends before they traveled together.
“By the gods, Bellemy!” Syd raced over but stopped shy of Bel, their eyes wide with affection and bafflement. “It’s neither here nor there, as we have a job to do, but you are a sight, my friend.”
They didn’t embrace and Bel inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. When Syd had known them, they used their full name and a different signifier for who they were. That was the old Bel - Bellemy - who was afraid to be touched for fear of always wanting, never able to be rid of the desire ever again. As though it would consume them and they would never be the same.
Bel had told themself a lot of lies back then. They put their gloved hands on Syd’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “It’s good to see you, Syd.”
“And you.” Then Syd spotted Octavia, who had stepped up to welcome the Rangers. “A pleasure, Miss Wilder.”
“Octavia.” She shook the hand he offered, letting her eyes roam over the Rangers behind him. “Welcome to Wilderwood. You’ve been told of the circumstances here?”
“We have. Roderick’s report was quite thorough.”
“And of our...unique population?”
Syd smiled, showing off sharp teeth. “All of us in this company have a bit of Fae running through our veins. You needn’t worry.” He pointed to Bel and winked. “And once this is all over you owe me a story, Eislen.”
Bel snorted. “What happened to you telling me I owed you a drink? That was far easier.”
“And that, too.” He motioned the Rangers forward, toward the manor. “But tradition dictates the commander buys the first round. We make this quick and we can swap old stories til dawn!”
“Awful lot of the past rushing up from the ground of late,” Bel muttered as they followed.
Seventeen
They stared at the vial of blood as it sat on Octavia’s desk. “How bad will it be?” Bel asked as they slowly undid the vampire’s braids.
Octavia huffed. “I have no barometer for any of this.” She stilled Bel’s hands with hers, turning to look at them behind her and at Roderick sprawled on the bed as he watched them. “The last time I didn’t have a full grip on my control was that night in the cave.”
That got Roderick’s full attention. “You mean to tell me you were in full control last night?”
The smile he got in return was satisfied enough to have consumed an entire aviary.
Bel snorted away a laugh. “Should we test it? See what a few drops would do to provide a baseline.”
“I like that idea,” Roderick replied. “But it’s up to you, Octavia.”
“I feel as though that wouldn’t be much different than when I take from Bel. They have magic and other than some buzzing in my skin, it doesn’t affect me.”
“But you’re used to it,” he countered, rolling to his feet to come to her side. “The cave you referenced, was that the first time you bit Bel?”
Bel gave a tiny shiver. “Yes.”
Roderick sank to his knees, put his hand on Octavia’s thigh. “And?” The heated stare she gave him said almost too much. “Then it’s easy.” He wasn’t wearing a cravat, preferring to leave his neck unadorned save a family ring on a chain tucked into his shirt. Roderick pushed aside his collar. “Take me.”
Bel sucked in a breath behind her, going very still, but their energy was a palpable thing at her back. “And if I injure you?” Octavia finally managed to ask.
“You won’t.” His hand slid higher. “You won’t. Magic runs in the Arman line, I just didn’t get any of it. It would be a test.”
She reached out to frame his face in her hands. “You’re too trusting.”
“I don’t think so. It’s earned on an individual basis.” His eyes flicked to Bel. “And they wouldn’t let you. Will they?”
“Never.” Bel’s hand came down on her throat, thumb caressing her jaw. “But if this or something like it helps, I’m here.”
Naked hunger made her gums itch but she knew better than to give in to the need to quell it. “Bel, please,” she said quietly, her tone conveying so much more than her words. And Bel was there, grip tighter on Octavia’s throat.
“You have kept yourself controlled for centuries, Octavia. This is no different. But you should believe in the strength of your will, darling.” Bel’s words were a whisper in her ear. “You need this?” Octavia whimpered as Bel moved their thumb up to stroke the edge of her bottom lip. “Show him.”
She tipped her head back, let her mouth fall open. Already her fangs had elongated, needle-sharp and glinting in the low light. “It doesn’t hurt after the first second,” Bel said softly, curling over the chair to rest against Octavia’s back. “It’s as though you let her inside and this….connection forms. Locked together. The world drops away.” With their free hand they moved her forward. “Every bit of pleasure she can give you she will. Our Octavia is selfless like that.”
Roderick made a low noise in the back of his throat before rocking back on his heels and sinking into the thick leather armchair behind him. Guided by Bel’s hands on her, Octavia crawled into his lap, her thighs bracketing his hips like she was meant to be there.
So much smaller than either of them.<
br />
Ten times as deadly.
Her eyes bled black at their edges and he could smell her desire now, warm like spiced apples in autumn. It made him want to bury his face between her thighs and force her to shake apart under his tongue. He held onto her waist as she surged forward, kissing him hard. Licking into his mouth, letting him feel how sharp her fangs were against the soft skin of his bottom lip.
Someone whispered her name but she was already lost in their kiss, clinging to him tightly. A warm hand smoothed down her back and she didn’t know if it was him or Bel but she didn’t want them to stop. The hands on her hips were like iron, unrelenting, unbending, and only when she broke their kiss to press her mouth to the hinge of his jaw did they twitch as Roderick groaned loudly.
Octavia stiffened. Some part of her could never get fully lost in this moment; decades of careful training and claustrophobic denial had made such a reaction second nature. But the big hand palming the back of her head, bringing her to the wild pulse jumping in his neck, was encouragement and a silent plea. She pulled back to look at him. “You’re sure?”
Wilderwood Page 18
