Frostbound

by Sharon Ashwood

“They can stay hound only as long as five counts. Otherwise, where is the battle?”

  Talia rubbed her face, wishing that when she looked up, she would be back in bed with Lore. What did you do today, Talia? Oh, I watched my lover in a bloody death match.

  She wanted to throw up, tension corkscrewing through her gut. I’ll stop this myself if I have to. That shebitch is going to have to come through me.

  Then Lore walked into the makeshift ring. These cheers were loud and heartfelt. No mystery who the favorite was in this event. He peeled off his jacket, then his shirt, leaving only his jeans and sneakers. Talia’s breath caught at the sight of his body, the rich tan of his skin flowing over powerful muscles. He tossed his clothes to one side and scanned the crowd. Talia stood on her toes, willing him to look her way. Over here!

  He stopped, their eyes meeting. In that instant, she saw him not just as Lore, but as Alpha. He was every inch the hellhound king, strong, just entering his prime, the favorite of his people.

  I love you! she thought desperately. Don’t forfeit your life to Mavritte. Be Alpha. Win. I’d rather lose you than watch you lose what you care about.

  He could never belong just to a mate. In many ways, he was the pack.

  Sacrificing everything for love was a nice dream, but this wasn’t like quitting a job and moving towns. This was life and death. And she loved him. She wanted whatever would be best for his sake.

  Her mouth trembled, wanting with every cell in her body to be lying next to him, lost in the Castle’s darkness.

  He looked away, his expression that careful, neutral face he wore when he didn’t want his feelings to show.

  So what am I going to do? There wasn’t a damned thing she could do, unless she climbed into the ring and shot Mavritte. But as she thought it, she realized she couldn’t. This moment wasn’t about her; this was about the pack. She was on the outside. Lore had to settle it.

  The fight was starting. It looked wildly unequal because Lore was simply bigger than Mavritte, but that didn’t seem to faze either of the combatants. They circled, half-crouched, snarls so low that Talia might have imagined them if not for the chills that ran down her backbone.

  Mavritte struck first, coming in low and fast under Lore’s guard. He seemed to roll out of the way, letting her momentum carry her past him. He grabbed her by the waist as she passed, throwing her to the ground—but not before she lashed out with one heel, landing a bruising blow to Lore’s thigh.

  Talia realized she was gripping her hands together like she was praying. Maybe she was—for a quick end before the suspense killed her. Rekilled her. Whatever.

  Mavritte was up again, landing another kick—this time to Lore’s shoulder. Talia could hear it connect, and winced.

  She analyzed the moves, remembering the lessons she’d learned from years of Hunter training. Mavritte didn’t have a man’s upper-body strength, but she was agile and knew how to use what power she had. Mavritte could have used that to advantage, but she repeated the same moves too often, allowing Lore to learn her patterns. Lore blocked the next shot, getting in one of his own and sending her staggering back.

  “Good,” murmured Osan Mina.

  Talia bit her lip, and then remembered why vampires shouldn’t do that. Ouch.

  Lore flowed into hound form, but then so did Mavritte. The two wrestled, snarling and clawing in a ball of red-eyed shadows. The crowd began chanting in another language, but Talia got it: the five-second rule.

  When they hit five, Lore turned back to human form, dancing away from Mavritte. Then she was human again too, but now had long, red scratches down her arms. She had turned a microsecond too soon, letting his claws touch her human flesh. Her eyes were glittering with wild excitement, her mouth stretched in a mocking smile. Lore was still stone-faced, but his cheeks were flushed.

  “He could end this,” Mina grumbled.

  “I don’t think he wants to kill her,” Talia replied, once again remembering their confrontation at the Empire. “I think if there was another way, he’d take it.”

  Lore had done something to send Mavritte tumbling to the grass at the edge of the ring. Her fall hadn’t looked entirely natural, and that set Talia’s alarm bells off. In fact, the whole crowd gasped—and gasped again when Mavritte rose holding a stiletto. The long, thin blade gleamed in the streetlight.

  “Knife! ” Talia yelled, lunging forward.

  Mina grabbed her arm. “No.”

  “You said no weapons!” But Talia had her gun.

  But there was an underlying logic. If Lore died, they still needed an Alpha. Mavritte was the next strongest hound, whether or not she fought fair.

  Mina’s iron grip clenched harder. “Let them settle it!”

  Mavritte grabbed Lore, clinging to him like a desperate lover, and drove the knife into his back.

  Talia screamed.

  Lore vanished.

  Mavritte stumbled away, tripping over herself in confusion.

  What did Lore do?

  The seconds dragged on interminably, the hounds as one beginning to call out in agitated voices.

  “He can’t hold it this long!” Mina cried, gripping Talia’s coat sleeve.

  “Hold what?” Talia’s eyes were blurred with tears of fright.

  “The state between man and hound!”

  Talia thought about it—there was a brief second between forms where the hounds looked like a cloud of black dust. What happened if he stayed that way too long? Did he ever come back?

  Oh, God, Lore . . .

  But the hound dropped from the air, crushing Mavritte beneath his weight. Lore gripped Mavritte’s throat in his jaws, one massive paw covering the knife.

  A cry of wonder sounded from the hounds. Apparently the vanishing act was a big show of power, but Talia was focused on what came next. The throat-ripping part. Is he going to do it? Talia wanted to turn away and needed to watch.

  “He can’t!” Mina hissed. “No, the fight was over! He should finish it.”

  There was no tearing of throats. A sob mixed of frustration and relief escaped Talia’s throat.

  Lore was back in human form, holding the stiletto. He stood under the streetlight, his figure dark and sharply defined against the backdrop of snow. “Mavritte of the Redbones, you broke the laws that rule the fight for dominance,” he said in a deadly voice.

  Mavritte scrambled to her feet, putting some distance between her and Lore, but the crowd tightened around the ring, blocking any escape she might have planned.

  “Kill me,” she snarled. “If you think you’ve won, end this!”

  Lore’s face was back to that neutral expression. Somehow it was worse than if he’d been screaming at her. “You lose the right to challenge me, Mavritte of the Redbones. Your people and your property belong to the Alpha of the Lurcher pack. To me.”

  She fell on her knees. “Will you protect my people?”

  “They are my people now. I will protect them.”

  That’s why she did this. She knew this would happen if she cheated. She sacrificed herself for the sake of her hounds.

  Talia’s skin prickled with shock. She hadn’t expected selflessness from Mavritte. “Is her life forfeit?”

  “Not unless Lore demands it.”

  So he doesn’t have to kill her. Talia narrowed her eyes. There was something suspiciously convenient about the match. Lore lost nothing. Mavritte got something she wanted. She had secured the best king with the most resources to watch over her hounds, even though it cost her pride and rank among her own people.

  Talia felt a wave of respect for the she-hound, but it was short-lived.

  “Will you take a mate?” Mavritte asked Lore, in a loud, clear voice.

  The crowd went utterly silent. Talia could hear the hum of the streetlights above. Lore hesitated, turning the knife over and over in his hand. Talia froze as his gaze veered her way, touching her face.

  “I will take a mate of my own choosing.”

  Talia’s spirits san
k as every hound turned her way, disapproval and anxiety in their eyes. She stood between them and their future. If Lore stayed with her, there would be no young. Hellhound souls couldn’t be reborn. Soul mates couldn’t be found. The life of the pack wouldn’t go on.

  Their expressions all said one thing. She had no business with their king. She wasn’t even properly alive.

  Lore couldn’t lie. His choice was clear—he wanted her.

  But she wasn’t what they needed or wanted in their Alpha’s mate. But he was what they needed in their leader. Even Mavritte knew it, and was willing to pay a huge price to have him lead her pack.

  Talia’s body ached. She was dying all over again.

  I can’t be that selfish. I have to let him go. She exchanged a long look with Osan Mina.

  “Okay,” was all she said.

  Mina gave a single nod, and turned her face toward her king. The connection between them stopped dead, suddenly sliced away. It was as if Talia had instantly ceased to be.

  Talia turned her back and walked away, her whole body burning with anguish. She heard commotion behind her, cries of disbelief and confusion.

  Don’t let him be coming. Don’t let him. This is hard enough.

  “Talia!” Lore ran past her, turning, blocking her path. “Why are you leaving?”

  His bare chest was heaving, though he couldn’t be out of breath from such a short run.

  I love you.

  Kind, brave, in love with her, practically declaring himself in front of the whole world—how much more perfect could Lore be? She began to feel tiny sobs bubbling up through her frame. “You know why. They need you—all of you. You have to be with someone from your pack. If you leave them and come with me, it will destroy you. Maybe not right away, but you’ll come to hate me.”

  Shock widened his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “The pack doesn’t have a future if you take me. I can’t be a pack mother.”

  “Those are all just myths!”

  “That doesn’t matter. It’s what they believe that counts. That’s the hound tradition. Even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else, that’s who you are. Turn away from that and you lose as surely as if Mavritte cut out your heart.”

  He shook his head, beyond words.

  “You know it’s true.”

  “Talia, I love you!”

  She clenched her teeth, trying to summon anger to get past the sadness robbing her strength. “Don’t be ridiculous. We barely know each other.” But I love you.

  He reached for her, but then dropped his hand when she skirted around him. “If you doubt how much your people count on you, think about what Mavritte just did. She gave up everything so you could be the king.”

  “Talia, damn you.” He grabbed her arm, pulling her close. “I’m not leaving my pack and I’m not letting you go. If the Prophets want me as Alpha, they’re going to have to fix this.”

  “Lore, if I’ve learned one thing, we can’t change what we are.”

  He kissed her face, starting with her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, wordlessly pleading with her. “I know you’re the one I have to have. I know your scent.”

  “Lore,” Talia said, his name more a sob than a word.

  He cupped her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Don’t tell me that you don’t love me. Don’t lie to me.”

  “Pick someone else.”

  “Don’t I have a say in any of this?”

  The pain in his words ripped through her. She pulled away. “Not unless hellhound soul mates are reborn as vampires.”

  He fell back a step. The movement was awkward, unsteady. Not like Lore at all. “You can walk away from here, Talia.”

  “Don’t,” she said desperately, knowing exactly what was coming.

  “You can walk away, but I’m not letting you go. I’m fighting for you.”

  Talia pulled herself together, scrabbling for enough strength to go on. “You’re smarter than that.”

  “I didn’t get my hounds out of the Castle by giving up.” A stubborn look she’d not seen before settled over his features. “This isn’t over.”

  Talia swallowed, shoving her hands into her pockets so she wouldn’t reach out to him. He looked angry, but he also looked hurt. “Think about what you’re doing,” she said.

  Then she walked away from him, the most gorgeous, half-naked man she was ever likely to meet, however immortal she was. And his beauty was the least of her loss. There would never be another Lore.

  Cold tears streamed down her face.

  But she’d done her bit to help the pack.

  Chapter 36

  Wednesday, January 19, 7:30 p.m., Election Day

  101.5 FM

  “This is the CSUP special news coverage of the municipal elections. Polls opened at eight o’clock this morning and will remain open until midnight to accommodate all voters. Exit polls favor vampire candidate Michael de Winter. If he wins, he will be the first nonhuman elected to public office—a landmark on the road to securing full civil and legal rights for supernatural citizens.

  “Many attribute the rapid progress in this area to the hard work and political acumen of the vampire queen, Omara. If one considers that the existence of nonhumans was a mystery until the year 2000, this is indeed a remarkable achievement that opens a new chapter in the history of relations between human and nonhuman species.”

  Wednesday, January 19, 8:00 p.m., full moon

  Talia’s condo

  Talia walked through Saint Andrew’s cemetery, her steps crunching on the last patches of snow. The cold snap had finally broken, and she could hear water rushing through the nearby storm drains. A heavy mist—something between rain and fog—dripped from the trees. It was night, but the moon gave an eerie glow to the veils of moisture cloaking the graveyard.

  She stopped at Michelle’s grave. It was one of the ones nearest the water—small, with a modest granite plaque. Talia laid the bouquet of lilies she held on the grave. She’d been there nearly every night.

  Hi, Michelle, I started packing up your things today. It’s not easy, and I don’t want to do it. Your mom’s letting me stay until I can find a place. I know you’re not there anymore, but leaving is going to feel like parting from you all over again.

  Talia stopped, swallowing hard. A group was gathered around a spot a few yards away. A small figure broke from them and walked over.

  “Talia Rostova?”

  “Yes?” Talia took a moment to look up. The speaker was a female vampire, very beautiful and very regal.

  “I am Queen Omara.”

  Oh!

  Talia sank into a curtsy. “Your Majesty.”

  “Rise, child,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you for some time now. It will be a while before I need to join my candidate to hear the outcome of the election. Perhaps we can talk?” It wasn’t really a question.

  Talia drew in a shaky breath. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

  Omara began walking along one of the paths that wandered the cemetery. Talia fell into step beside her, nerves on high alert. Wind hushed through the cedar trees.

  “There are three subjects I wanted to speak to you about,” said the queen. “First, you killed a vampire monarch. That is punishable by death.”

  Stunned, Talia stopped dead in her tracks.

  Omara gave a slight smile, as if she rather enjoyed Talia’s moment of fright. “However, it was Belenos, and he was after my life. The vampire council voted to consider the killing justifiable self-defense.”

  Talia thought she would faint. The queen started walking again. Talia hurried to catch up.

  “You were granted leniency by a margin of one vote,” Omara added. “In other words, count yourself lucky and don’t do it again.”

  “He killed me, Your Majesty,” Talia said. They tried me without my knowledge. What would have happened if the vote had gone the other way?

  “I know,” Omara replied. “That was taken into account. The council is
sorry that you were Turned unwillingly. This is not an easy existence, especially if you did not choose it.”

  Talia took a breath. “May I speak, ma’am?”

  “Of course.”

  “I was raised to hate monsters. Becoming one should have driven me mad, or made me destroy myself, or made me turn evil.”

  “But?” the queen prompted.

  “Instead, it made me look at things and at myself in a different way. I’m not going to say I’d be a vampire if I had a choice, but I am stronger now, and not just physically. It made me start over and think about what I really believed. It made me break old patterns. I’m more Talia than I was when I was a living woman.”

  “I congratulate you. Not everyone could manage to transform themselves that way.”

  Talia hesitated. She could hear the ocean rushing against the shore. “Most people would be starting from a better place.”

  “Do you still hate monsters?” The queen started walking again.

  “Some of my best friends are monsters.”

  “What about your father and brother? Where do they fit in this new worldview of yours?”

  “There’s a chance my brother may come around someday. He’s written to me. He’s agreed to be a witness for the prosecution. He’ll still do time, but a lot less.”

  She slid her hand into her coat pocket. She’d carried Max’s letter with her since she’d received it. It was a connection to her brother that was real and honest—not spying on him from an Internet bulletin board.

  It was an awkward note, but it was a start. The best news was that Max was getting some counseling. Ironically, prison might be the salvation he needed.

  Omara made a considering noise. “I understand the biggest problem with the trial of the Hunters is the complexity of it. Where does one crime end and the next begin? Perhaps it is good some of us involved are immortal. The case could go on for a while.”

  Talia was silent. The mere mention of the trial wrapped her in a blanket of confusion. It was impossible to see how it would end, though no one believed Mikhail Rostov would walk a free man ever again. That made her feel both sad and safer.