"It doesn't. That's the point, wolf. I need to make her strong. So she can not only survive the horrors of this world, but thrive."
"Why can't she do it in her own way?"
Tirigan cocked his head to the side. "But she isn't, is she? She's running."
"Yeah, I'd run if I were her, too." He thought about what Blake would do if he stopped eating meat and stopped Turning. It wouldn't be anything like Tirigan.
"I don't think you would."
He wasn't going to argue about it. Instead, he said, "If all you want is what's best for Belle, then why did you slaughter everyone at The Greasy Lamb?"
"Hunters. These same hunters in the alleyway who are coming for us both. They'd been watching her. Did she really think after all these years, I didn't know where she was? Me? I've always known and I let her run, but now it's time to come home. It's time to let me make her strong."
He could see the wisdom in Tirigan's words. He understood the bonds of family, but he also knew that Belle was terrified of him and that this was her choice.
"Do you have proof I can show her about The Lamb?"
Tirigan narrowed his eyes. "Have I swayed you, then, without blood?"
"It's not for me to be swayed. I keep telling you that."
"Bah, you Betas are the worst. An Alpha would say yea or nay and be done."
He shook his head. "No, Blake would tell you the same thing. As would his Beta. I'm neither, so I suppose I am the very worst."
Tirigan snorted. "She's the future leader of the Asakku murder, and she married a puppy." Tirigan rolled his eyes. "Literally."
"It is what it is. Now, about that proof... if you want Belle to speak with you, that would go a long way toward it."
"A dog with a bone." He shook his head.
Parker laughed. "Okay, that was funny." Of course, if Tirigan knew to which bone Parker was referring, that might not go over so well, considering it was in reference to his daughter.
Tirigan narrowed his eyes.
Maybe he did know.
"I have proof. Surveillance video. Bank statements. The owner of that place sold her to the hunters. He's lucky I let him die so easily. I was going to take him back to Dubai and make him an exhibition in my menagerie where my inquisitors practice the art of flaying. I could keep him alive and without skin indefinitely."
Parker was torn. Part of him was revolted by the idea, but his beast thought it was work well done, if in fact, the fucker had done as Tirigan said and sold Belle.
"She'll appreciate your mercy, I'm sure. Why don't you messenger your proof to Aphelion for Belle to look at. And an invitation to meet."
"What?" Tirigan wrinkled his nose.
"An invitation. You know, how you ask someone to meet you? Share a meal—er, maybe not a meal. A public place. And your promise that she's free to leave whenever and however she likes."
The expression on Tirigan's face was as if he'd just smelled something rather disgusting. "Ask? Asking is not for gods."
"Maybe not. But asking is for Belle."
"I've decided I definitely don't like you." Tirigan grumbled.
"That's too bad. I'm warming up to you, bloodsucker." Parker grinned.
Just when he thought that maybe this wouldn't end with his blood all over the alley, the most intense agony he'd ever known split through his chest. His beast surged to the forefront, but he couldn't Change. Not here, in an alley in the middle of the city where anyone could see. That would be a death sentence.
So was the pure silver grappling hook that had been shot through his chest.
The worst wasn't even the pain, it was the stench of his own smoking flesh in his nose.
From the expression on Tirigan's face, he had no part in it. Which wasn't the least bit comforting as another grappling hook pierced his side from the opposite direction and they both began to pull.
His beast surged again, and he was faced with choice. Let him run free and risk death by Council, or let them rip him in half.
He promised Belle he would protect her. He couldn’t do that if he was in pieces on the street.
He howled and as his humanity slipped away, he saw one of the hunters step from the shadows. Parker could smell the UV bomb in the grenade launcher he'd held up to his shoulder.
Deep in his marrow, both human and wolf, he knew that even though Belle had spent years on the run from her father, that she still needed him. She'd never be able to find the truth of herself without resolving things between them.
She couldn't do that if this hunter killed him.
So he wrapped his body around Tirigan, shielding him from the worst of the UV blast even as the silver grappling hook pulled his heart out through his back.
Chapter 12
He'd been gone too long.
Belle waited with Imre in the car, fidgeting with her hands. Every second seemed like a million years, but even allowing for that, she knew it had been too long.
She looked up at the dragon shifter and he looked at her, and a knowing passed between them.
"Yeah, I agree," he said out loud.
She wasn't sure what to do. Not until a sharp pain lanced her chest. She knew he was in trouble.
"There's something wrong." She got out of the limo, and she was pleased he didn't try to stop her. She really didn't want to go claw to claw with a dragon.
No, he didn't try to stop her at all. Instead, he said, "Which way?"
The storm clouds that had gathered began to clear and as she neared the back of the alley
Belle fought the panic as it rose like bile in her throat. She wasn’t sure what kind of carnage she’d find on the end, but she became increasingly sure of three things.
He wasn’t dead. Yet.
Her father was involved.
And the hunters whose scents were in her nose had just signed their own death warrants.
The stench of burned flesh overwhelmed the scent of Parker’s blood. It had the cool metallic undercurrent of silver. So while she could feel in her bones Parker wasn’t dead, she knew he didn’t have long.
Something unfamiliar uncurled in her stomach and radiated outward, filling her chest until it felt like she was going to explode. It tingled through her limbs, made her head and face hot, and caused her fingers to feel like she was being stung by a thousand scorpions.
That legion of scorpions manifested in the blue power sparking around her fingertips.
Belle was vaguely aware of Imre at her back as she followed the scents of blood and charred flesh.
She found a circle of what looked to be hunters, all outfitted with silver and tactical gear. She knew that what was in the middle of that was Parker.
“I’ll call reinforcements,” Imre whispered.
“No,” she ordered, drawing the attention of the hunters.
“Belle, it’s full daylight and humans—”
“Crossed into territory that is not theirs. They came for me and mine, and I’m done running.”
One of the hunters looked at her and his face split into a smile. “We been looking for you, girlie.”
“That’s your mistake.”
“I got something you might want.”
He threw something at her and she snatched it out of the air, catching it before she realized what it was. Parker’s heart.
That thing that had uncurled inside of her, suddenly those scorpion stings she’d felt at her fingertips were everywhere, covering her body. She was vaguely aware of the strange blue glow coming from her as she advanced on the hunter.
Her body no longer belonged to her. She’d retreated into a strange subspace while an unholy fury possessed her. It was the fury and the darkness moving her arms, her legs, her lips and even her tongue.
She didn’t recognize the words she spoke, but the old gods did. The old magics that rose to do her bidding. Belle tried to fight it, to channel it. She only wanted to help Parker. To save him before they could take his head, and his life.
Until she saw he wasn’t alone.
He was curled around the smoking flesh of her father. He was protecting Tirigan from the sun.
The emotions that rose within her warred with each other. Her werewolf husband might have given his life to protect her father—the vampire who would think nothing of destroying him. Yet it was all secondary to the fury. The darkness.
Their witch chanted words that echoed with power, focused by a crystal skull, one of the only things stronger than Tirigan, to keep the clouds from gathering across the sun again.
That skull became the focus of all that was wrong. All that was bad. And her magic, still stinging with scorpions erupted from her in a volcanic rush, washing everything in her lava.
The crystal skull filled with blue light, glowing brighter and brighter until the witch wielding it struggled to endure having it in her hands. Belle pushed more and more power toward it, almost detached from the melee that had erupted around her.
The rest of the Drago Knights had joined them, and they were fighting the hunters in their human forms.
Little did these hunters know, but they were all going to die.
Another burst of power caused the skull to catch fire. The witch screamed as the fire enveloped her. That wasn’t enough for Belle. She kept pushing her power toward the burning woman and her skin bubbled and popped as it slid from her body, the fire only devouring what Belle permitted it. She left the meat beneath untouched, all of her nerves raw and exposed.
The witch screamed and screamed, the sound like a kind of elegant symphony.
Belle knew she’d tipped over the edge and her humanity was a quivering thing that had hid itself in the shadows. But she didn’t have time or the inclination to coax it forth. It would emerge later, an armchair warrior who couldn’t stomach the heat of a real battle.
She wanted this witch to suffer for what she’d done.
She wanted them all to pay.
A contingent of hunters who all wore some kind of charm inuring them to the power of the skull, and her magic, mobilized and advanced on her. But all she wanted was to get to Parker.
The storm clouds the witch had been holding at bay crashed into one another and a black veil blocked out the sun. Gale force winds rattled the buildings around them, lightning crashed and thunder cracked like a godly whip, flaying the earth open where it landed.
As soon as the sunlight was gone, Tirigan emerged from Parker’s protection. The side of his face had been charred, his fingers, and a stake protruded from just above his heart.
He pulled it out with a roar and tore the head off the nearest hunter, drinking him deep and his wounds struggled to knit together. He grabbed another—this time, beheading him seemed to be as simple as pulling the tab on a soda. He attached his mouth to the fount and drenched himself in blood.
The Knights had fallen back as she and Tirigan destroyed all comers.
When the final hunter gurgled his last, the fury left her. It was like deflating a balloon. Her knees went week, and she collapsed, pulling Parker into her lap. Her bloodstained fingers left streaks on his face, everywhere she touched him.
The gaping hole in his chest was still smoking and Tirigan fell to his knees next to her, carefully removing the silver blades still in Parker’s skin.
A strange, ragged howl rent the air, and when Tirigan grabbed her shoulder, hard, she realized the sound was coming from her.
“Help me,” she growled. “Save him.”
“I don’t know how,” he said, softly. “I can’t give him our blood. It would kill him.”
She looked up and met his bloody gaze that somehow held no horror for her any longer. “There has to be something.”
“You’re his mate,” Ondrej said, stepping forward. “His heart beats for you. Bring it back to life.”
“It might work,” Tirigan offered. “It’s all you have.”
The rain pelted her face, washing away the blood, and the shield she’d used to hide behind while the monster inside of her snapped its jaws and stretched out into the world.
“My venom is poisonous to him,” she said, dumbly.
“He’ll surely die if you do nothing.” Ondrej held the heart in his hands as if it were made of dust and spiderwebs instead of flesh. He offered it to her like some kind of tribute.
She accepted the beaten and battered organ with trembling hands. She cupped her fingers around it, feeling both like a god—having the power of life and death—but feeling so small and insignificant at the same time.
It was a strange dichotomy.
She brought it to her lips carefully. Somehow, the shriveled dying thing was still warm. There was a good chance her venom could kill him.
But if she did nothing, his death was a certainty.
She touched her tongue to the charred ventricle where the silver had pierced it and like some kind of miracle, it began to heal itself, the flesh knitting back together.
It thrust, as if it attempting to beat in her palm.
“Is the wound clear of silver?” she asked.
“Seems so,” Tirigan said, leaning in. “This wound was cleaner than the others.”
Parker’s face was pallid, and his breathing was shallow and ragged. His eyes closed and that hole in his chest was so surreal. In all of her long years, she’d seen so many things. Things that shouldn’t exist, but this was the only one that made her whole body tremble, her lover’s still somehow living husk. She hoped against hope this would work.
When Tirigan had Turned Evgeni, she’d thought it had been like turning off the sun. It had cut something vital and she’d thought she was dying.
How wrong she’d been.
Nothing compared to what she felt now.
The cold chill of death creeping over her wasn’t just a piece of her. It was in her marrow. It was down to her DNA.
She couldn’t lose Parker.
The sun she’d wanted so desperately to feel on her skin wasn’t in the sky any longer. It was him.
In that moment, she realized how weak she was. How small. In all of her long years walking the wide world, she’d not really experienced anything. She’d only existed. She felt so small and inconsequential holding his heart in her hand.
It struggled to beat again.
Every tentative pulse sent shockwaves of hope and fear through her body.
“Gods below, child. Put that thing back in his body,” Tirigan growled. “It’s making me hungry. You know brave hearts taste much better, and his might be the bravest I’ve encountered.”
“More than your precious Gilgamesh?” She didn’t look up to see her father’s response. Instead, she gently eased the heart back into his chest. She was afraid to let go of it, not only because she feared it would stop beating, but she needed to feel the presence of life. The skittering scorpion sensation manifested again and tiny, thread-like bolts of blue energy shot out from the organ as it anchored itself inside of him and the first thing she saw take hold were his heartstrings.
“Close the wound,” Ondrej prompted.
The wound was jagged, bits of flesh had been charred away by the silver’s poison. She remembered what Eleanor had said about magic. About how her intent was more important than any words or motions of her hands.
Her intent was to heal the wound. To save his life.
She also knew that some magics had a price.
Belle had to consider what price she’d pay for him.
The answer was anything. She’d give anything to heal that gaping hole in his chest. To keep him.
So she lay her hands on him again and opened the floodgates.
A strange peace stole over her and her limbs went jelly and languid. It was almost as if she were melting into the flow of the magic. Until a strong hand clamped down on her shoulder and grounded her back into reality.
She looked up and saw her father in a haze of blue as her magic enveloped him, too.
“Take what you need.”
Another hand closed over her other shoulder and she turned her head to see the Drag
o Knights Alpha, Ondrej. He was still in his human form, but now she could see the dragon beneath. He was beautiful, and rippled with power.
She accepted their offers. It was a strange alchemy happening inside of her, the power of life and death blending in her magic, filling up Parker, riding his body of the poison silver, and making him whole.
Anchoring him to life.
And Belle as well.
Everything the magic took from her, Tirigan and Ondrej supplied, healing her even as the magic gutted her.
Parker was suddenly lifted off the ground by the force of all the power flowing through him and before he could crash back down, Ondrej and Imre caught him.
As she collapsed, she felt the cold, dead hands of her father on her face and heard his voice from far away.
“Stay with us, my little sun-flower. Stay.”
His voice reached into the caverns of darkness and shook them with their might, but she couldn’t hold on.
“Stay with me, child, or I’ll send that dog to the afterlife with you.” His voice was softer than she’d ever heard it, still menacing—for here was the great Tirigan of the Asakku, a god in his own right, it seemed—but for a moment, he sounded like a father.
Belle was vaguely aware of being hoisted up from the ground and a comforting chill permeated her body. Indeed, that cold was death, but it wasn’t coming for her. It was protecting her.
It was Tirigan.
And she knew she was safe.
Not even the Grim Reaper would dare to pluck her from her father’s arms.
Emotions welled inside of her, and she had so much she wanted to say. Fear welled like a cancer underneath it all.
Fear that this was transient and as soon as she was well, he’d force her into the thing he wanted her to be.
But he hadn’t tried to force her to drink.
As if he could read her mind, he said, “You should drink. Animal blood, if that’s what you want, but I offer mine freely.”
He offered. He didn’t demand.
She found the strength to nod weakly.
He slid, with her in his arms, into the back of the Woolven limo.
“Parker,” she hissed.
“The pup will be well. The dragons have him. They’re flying to Aphelion.” And before she could try to speak again, “Yes, sunshine. I’m taking you there, too.”
The Mate Mistake (The Woolven Secret Book 3) Page 11
