It was hardly likely that he and Beau would both be alive at dawn. No vampiro duel had ever lasted six and a half hours. One, yes. Three, in the last known duel between vampiros mayores. More to the point, Rafael should have enough energy for three or four different shapes, assuming long bouts in each form.
He crossed himself and waited, ready to do battle.
"When the gong sounds, the duel will begin. Are you ready, combatants?"
Rafael raised his hand, never taking his eyes off Beau. He gathered his will, holding his first shape clearly in his mind.
His enemy also lifted his hand, hatred hot and bright in his glance.
The gong rang, shaking the heavy air. Rafael sprang, his body's molecules reshaping themselves as soon as they escaped his clothes. The cloth fell to the grass, immediately forgotten.
His face lengthened as his teeth grew. Cinnamon fur appeared, tipped with silver. His hands gained weight and deadly claws. He gained mass from the moisture in the air. A hump grew above his shoulders, to add power to his strikes.
Rafael, the grizzly bear, roared as he charged his enemy, the gray wolf.
High above the field, grizzly and wolf raced at each other in monitor after monitor. Grania tensed and crossed herself.
Beau leaped, jaws opening to bite, great teeth eager to rend flesh.
Rafael's heavy right front paw slammed into him. Six-inch claws sliced down Beau's shoulder and flank, knocking the wolf aside.
Gray Wolf… Caleb whispered.
What is it? His cónyuge glared at him for breaking his concentration. I'm supposed to watch Don Rafael. You're supposed to watch Doña Grania.
Caleb jerked his head toward Don Rafael's lady.
Gray Wolf shot an impatient glance sideways and his jaw dropped.
Eyes fixed on the field below, Grania's right hand slammed her wineglass over—using exactly the same arc, at exactly the same speed, at exactly the same time Don Rafael ripped into Beau's shoulder. Her silk-clad arm had perfectly matched the furred paw shown, again and again, on the monitors above. Champagne dripped unheeded to the carpet.
Their eyes met above her head.
"Cónyuge?" Caleb mouthed.
Gray Wolf shrugged. "Don't know," he answered, equally silent. "He never said. But he gets close-mouthed, when he's being protective."
But his assessment of Grania this time was speculative.
Blood spurted, fur shredded. White bone gleamed as the wolf rolled, howling. A dark patch blossomed under him on the green grass.
The crowd under the tower roared its approval.
The grizzly circled, looking for his next strike.
Grania's breathing steadied, matching Rafael's.
A grizzly had been a good starting shape for her lover: fast, smart, tough, a good fighter, and unexpected to a European. But Beau would never let Rafael retain such an advantage.
What else could be useful? Leopard, the predator who'd conquered every land ecosystem? Hyena, who held their own against lions, after all, no matter how ignoble their reputation? Wolverine, the vicious little bear who made far larger predators back down?
Or an older shape? Velociraptor, smart and fast with knife-edged claws? Or a terror bird, nine feet tall and fast as a horse, whose cruel beak had ruled South America for twenty-six million years? Or Smilodon fatalis, that legendary ambush predator, otherwise known as a sabre-toothed tiger?
Beau shifted into a goshawk, Persia's beloved King Hawk, and launched himself into the sky.
Rafael immediately shifted into a peregrine and went after him, beating his wings rapidly as he fought for altitude. Mierda, where had Beau learned such a large, excellent fighting bird? Defeating him would not be easy.
The sluggishness of the second shape change told on him, but he grimly ignored it. Beau had to be worse off, especially since he'd needed to heal his wound when he shifted.
Still, going to this much smaller form was worrisome. The penalty paid for blood loss was proportionate to the overall size of the shape. Lose half of your blood in any form and it didn't matter if you'd lost a thimbleful or a gallon; you were still in trouble. And trouble meant that a much larger shape, such as a grizzly, would be beyond his power to control if he wanted to fight for any length of time.
He finally reached the level of the light standards, a welcome thermal lifting him higher as he watched for his enemy.
A dark shape caught the corner oí his eye, diving on him from the other side—Beau.
Rafael shrieked defiance as he tried to dodge and gain more room to fight. But Beau anticipated his move, as he'd learned to do in all those bouts, for so many years, at The Syrian's fortress.
The heavier bird struck Rafael, talons piercing his back. He skidded sideways, knocking the talons loose. His back muscles screamed in pain.
They fell out of the sky tangled together, wings thrashing, beaks and talons stabbing and slashing at each other's head and chest and back. Screaming at each other when they could.
Grania's shoulders twisted, her elbows bent. Sometimes she punched the air, sometimes her head came back in a silent cry. She watched the monitors desperately, working hard to see Rafael in the swirling feathers.
Words sifted into her ears.
"Relax and be with him completely. Focus on what he feels. The flex of his muscles," Caleb whispered. "The air beneath him."
"The taste of his enemy's blood," Gray Wolf added. "Salty. Satisfying."
Her mouth worked. Blood? It was almost on the tip of her tongue.
The two birds landed on the ground together, bounced, and sprang apart. Rafael and Beau paced the grass, settling their feathers, glaring at each other as they took stock of their wounds.
Rafael flexed his back and cursed when he realized he couldn't move his shoulders well. His right wing was growing numb.
The crowd's roar was a distant buzz, while Ethan's mesnaderos seemed little more than fence posts as they faced down Madame Celeste's troops. For the honor of Texas, they would not intervene in the duel itself.
He'd lost too much blood in that round. He could change shape once more and fight. But twice?
If only he could see Grania face to face. He'd thought he'd felt her once through the conyugal bond during that wild fight in the sky. Surely that was a fantasy, occasioned by her being a student of the fighting birds.
Beau shifted. A gray wolf again?
¡Mierda, he couldn't become a grizzly again!
Rafael shifted into a puma. Roughly the same size, weight, and quality of fighter as the gray wolf.
They circled each other, looking for an opening. Both were limping, Rafael definitely more so. He breathed deep, fighting to pull air back into his lungs. He hadn't been able to heal all of the injuries suffered as a peregrine.
You will be dead within the hour and my beloved father will finally be avenged, Beau snarled.
Save your breath for your death rattle, Rafael snapped back.
They circled again, the requisite insults out of the way. Suddenly Beau charged, Rafael wheeled, and raked his claws across the other's nose. They tumbled across the field, spitting and clawing, tearing the other apart.
Beau bit Rafael's shoulder. Agony flared in the half-healed wound. He struck out and slashed into Beau's front leg.
Clumps of grass, clods of dirt, and streaks of crimson marked their path.
Up above, Grania brought the binoculars Caleb handed her into sharp focus, a skill she'd learned so long ago that it was pure reflex. Cougar and wolf sprang into sight, crystal clear against the white line markers.
They bit and clawed at each other. She flinched when the wolf's teeth sank into Rafael's flank, ripping the great muscles. Agonizing pain flooded her body. Instinctively, she willed strength into him, even as she clapped her hand over her own thigh.
She saw an opening in the wolf's guard, created by his attack on Rafael. She fought to tell Rafael, strained so hard she half stood up.
"Easy there, easy," Gray Wolf murmured, so sof
t it was like a gentle river. "He's focused on the duel, not on listening to you. He can only hear his cónyuge when he relaxes."
"He could die!"
"I know."
Rafael attacked a different place than the one she'd seen—and the wolf twisted himself into an impossible curve, bit Rafael's hind leg, and sprang away.
Beau barked triumphantly, as Madame Celeste and her minions screamed their approval.
Dammit, that bastard should be smacked down by something bigger and furrier than himself, with even larger teeth to rip out his throat. If he thought he was hot stuff now, she'd like to see him take on some of Mother Nature's better efforts from the past!
Grania clenched her hands, her nails drawing blood from her palms. Rafael, darling, I am with you.
Rafael licked his teeth clean, dragging his hind leg as he paced. He blinked hard to clear his right eye but it was still filmed with blood from that fight in the sky. His breath wheezed in and out, as he considered his next move.
He faced the truth reluctantly. Five hundred years of dueling had taught him damned little about how to defeat Beau. The pendejo still knew exactly what move Rafael would do next. It was, after all, still very much like fighting his fencing master.
He might have one more shift left in him, if he was lucky—and if he lasted that long.
Beau jumped at him again, snapping at his leg. Dammit, he just wants to exhaust me.
Rafael gauged the attack carefully, more by smell than sight, and lashed out with his claws when Beau was very close. Gracias a Dios, puma reflexes were good, good enough to make Beau back off a little.
He panted, every breath burning through his throat, as he circled to keep Beau in sight. Where would the pendejo attack next? How long could he keep fighting him off?
Grania barely breathed as she watched. The damp grass seemed to prickle then give under her feet, as if she was pacing on the football field rather than standing in a tower. Every bone in her body ached, while her muscles burned more than when she'd finished a marathon. If she'd tried to run, her leg would have given out under her. And every square inch of her skin felt as if blood was running out of it. Beau charged, Rafael answered as he had before. But this time, Beau blocked Rafael's move—and tore a chunk out of his neck. Blood spurted across the grass.
Agony screamed through Grania's neck. Instinctively, she clapped a hand to her throat.
Rafael staggered, shaking his head, clearly unable to effectively counterattack.
Beau danced back and forth, barking insults. He came within a yard of his enemy.
Rafael wavered then sank down as his bad leg collapsed under him. A half-dead cougar was no match for a nearly functional vampiro.
Blackness swept across Grania's eyes, as her heart went out to him. Her own leg ached and wavered.
Beau shifted back into a man and turned to the New Orleans crowd, raising his arms triumphantly. They shouted happily, while the home team sat in stunned silence.
Grania's throat was tight, her body cut from within by needles of ice. Rafael, Rafael!
Then she could hear him inside her head, his voice a weak thread. Grania, mi corazón, forgive me for not listening to your wisdom. Please help me and give me your strength.
Rafael, my life and my love, I would do anything for you. She relaxed utterly, remembering her love, softening her breathing until she lived only through him.
Then she could feel him throughout her, slowly at first like water flowing into a new home until it became complete. His skin, battered and bleeding. His broken bones. His heart, beating through her veins. His thoughts, of regret and loss, for losing her. His love, faithful for all time.
His voice was the merest whisper. Grania, mi alma y mi vida, te adoro.
Instinctively, she worked to heal him. She gave him everything she had, taken from the rich stores he'd gifted her with. She considered his wounds with a vet's eyes and poured healing energy into them. Strength flooded back into him. His heart began to beat strongly again, as his wounds stopped bleeding. His broken bones healed and every leg longed to run again.
Rafael's mind began to work with its old speed and ruthlessness. He danced through her mind and found the image she'd been harboring, of the ancient California cat.
Ah, Grania, what a gift you are to a warrior, he purred, recognizing its potential immediately. He shifted immediately into a sabre-toothed tiger with a grunt of satisfaction.
Grania's mouth quirked. Her knight had come back to life.
Down on the field, Rafael planted all four very healthy paws on the grass and bugled his challenge to the skies. It was a deep and throaty roar, the like of which had not echoed through these hills for thousands of years.
Shocked, the crowd fell silent and Beau spun around.
Rafael charged across the football field at his enemy. Grania came to her feet, screaming, her limbs throbbing as they too pushed him forward.
Devol pulled a gun—and mesnaderos immediately leveled their rifles at him.
Beau blanched and threw up his hands.
Rafael leaped—and pinned his enemy to the ground with twice a lion's weight.
Beau stared up at Rafael, doom written across his face.
Rafael's long sabre teeth ripped out his throat, decapitating his ancient adversary.
The lifeless body collapsed into the grass, slowly turning into ash. Beau's head rolled away, blue eyes wide and staring, before it collapsed into a heap. Its white dust settled on a hash mark, looking like little more than smudges left over from a particularly hard-fought first down.
Rafael came to his feet as a man, swaying slightly. His people and friends roared approval, as the trumpets sang in triumph.
Grania ran for the elevator. Gray Wolf and Caleb crowded into it with her. A grinning Emilio took them down, as quickly as he could, fast as falcons diving on their prey.
They burst out from under the grandstands and onto the track. Grania lengthened her stride, racing toward the football field and Rafael, caring nothing for the helmeted mesnaderos with their automatic rifles. Gray Wolf shouted something beside her but it was drowned out by the crowd, chanting and stomping rhythmically on the bleachers, "Texas, Texas!"
Just before she reached them, the mesnaderos stepped sideways, opening a path for her as smoothly as any guard at Buckingham Palace. She hurtled past, her red hair and white silk skirts floating behind her as she ran, intent only on reaching her man. Hers at last, with the past shadows vanquished.
Rafael turned to face her, as he finished tugging his shirt down. He was pale under his golden skin but he was standing. She flung herself into his arms and they clung together, hearts and minds united.
A shadow touched them and they stirred, looking for the source. Jean-Marie and Ethan stood beside them, watching the New Orleans visitors sullenly depart.
Madame Celeste shook her fist at them, her eyes malevolent before she passed from sight. Jean-Marie stirred angrily. "That female needs to either learn the limits of her power or die."
Grania glanced at him, surprised at such harshness from someone she'd only seen as smooth-tongued.
"Devol just wants killing," Ethan drawled. "Like a rattler."
"But like a rattler, mi hijo, he can kill," Rafael said gently.
Grania sighed to herself. They were already planning for the next round of fighting. It was undoubtedly necessary but didn't anybody ever give Rafael a few minutes away from all that responsibility?
Much of the way back to the ranch in the car, Rafael was on the phone planning for the next phase of the war. One man after another called him about a different desperate question. At least they'd fed him—and he'd fed her—before they'd started back.
Grania muttered to herself and laid her head against his shoulder, totally ignoring any traffic laws encouraging the use of seat belts in the backseat. Rafael wrapped his arm around her and cuddled her, which at least allowed him to relax a little.
At Compostela, the prosaicos and compañeros line
d the driveway, cheering, "Texas, Texas!"
Grania smiled and nodded and waved, wishing that some of her less charitable fellow orphans could have been there to see her. But she'd have traded the big house and the ranch any day just to have Rafael next to her.
He swept her up into his arms and carried her over the threshold. Thrilled, she wrapped her arm around his neck and kissed him tenderly.
Her eyes widened when he didn't put her down immediately. Instead, he carried her all the way down the hall to his bedchamber.
He set her down near the bed, letting her glide down over his body. Grania shivered, enjoying every contrast in shape and texture between them, which gave her an idea. She stroked his dear face tenderly. "Your color is so good. Did they feed you in the locker room?"
He kissed her fingers and began to play with them. "You know they did, querida."
"I'm trying to learn how to give you privacy," Grania defended herself. "Aren't there times when I shouldn't read you through the conyugal bond? I know there are times when I don't want you to know what I'm doing." She choked, as a particularly strong tingle ran up to her throat.
He raised an eyebrow, still nibbling gently on her hand. "Such as when?"
"Christmas shopping," she suggested, a bit desperately, closing her eyes against a toe-curling surge of pleasure. "Planning your birthday."
He folded her filmy sleeve back and started to work his way up the inside of her wrist.
"For favor, continue, mi corazón. You have my fullest attention."
She sighed as her knees weakened but forced them to stiffen. "Can you orgasm without ejaculating?"
His dark eyes flashed up at her. "Certainly, querida. Why?"
She'd caught his attention. "How many times can you do so before you must ejaculate?"
He hesitated. "Grania, mi vida …"
"You see, you do not want me reading you through the bond right now!" she declared triumphantly.
He drew himself erect, every inch the haughty grandee. "I can orgasm more than once, querida, without ejaculating."
Bond of Blood Page 31
