The Wild Rites Saga Omnibus 01 to 04

by Anna McIlwraith

  Foolish girl, Alexi hissed in her mind, his presence uncoiling, heavy as the sky. You should never have met the eyes of a wolf king in his own territory, at the first meeting.

  Telepathy wasn’t the same thing as the bond between her and Fern, or the connection she’d shared with Telly before he left; Alexi didn’t just speak, he commanded his thoughts into hers, pressing and squeezing like a physical thing — but he’d only ever done it once, and why the hell he chose to venture into her mind again now was beyond her.

  For your information, she thought at him, flinging the words, Nobody fucking told me not to look in his eyes, all right? Yevgeny frowned, eyes blazing, and his lips began to crawl back from his teeth in an unconscious snarl.

  Emma felt a swirl of cold air against her nape, and then a freezing presence so cold it burned — Alexi stepping close to her, call still open, whether to torture her or save her, she didn’t know.

  He sighed and she could almost picture his nostrils flaring in frustration. Why am I not surprised? Alexi’s mental voice was anvil-hard, pitted with annoyance. Nobody tells you anything. You should have a word with Seshua about that. Emma didn’t even have time to be surprised: Alexi’s solid, roiling presence in her mind shifted, and something inside her snapped.

  The call died. Her eyes slammed shut and she strangled a cry of relief, clenching her fists at her sides so she wouldn’t try to cover her face and cower like a child — bad enough Alexi had to rescue her, she wasn’t about to cry like a —

  Alexi had rescued her?

  That thought was mercifully pushed aside as Fern’s mind rushed into hers in a flood of worry and fear and thin, simmering anger — at Seshua, for not telling her not to look Yevgeny in the eye when she met him, and anger at himself for not knowing in the first place.

  Not your fault. Even her mental voice shook. I should have known, or asked, or something. Damn it, there was just too much she didn’t know — she was too new at this, and there was nobody to teach her, because she was the only one of her kind.

  She opened her eyes and saw what she hadn’t noticed when her attention was nailed to Yevgeny. Behind the wolf king, the foyer was crammed with faces and none of them were happy, and every single one of her guards had their weapons drawn and cocked. The fact that she hadn’t seen or heard them doing it was disturbing.

  Only Seshua remained unarmed — well, he didn’t have his weapon out. He could hardly be described as unarmed, ever, and just the look on his face should have dropped the wolf king dead at twenty paces.

  Yevgeny’s wide chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, though his face was calm. No, not calm; leaden. Emma kept her eyes firmly on the medallion pinned to his shirt, something esoteric she couldn’t quite make out.

  When Yevgeny spoke, his accent was so thick Emma could barely understand him. “My apologies, caller of the blood, I did not know I would so affect you. I would have given warning to your king, otherwise.” He turned to give Seshua what was either a questioning look, or a damning one.

  Behind Yevgeny, a thin blond man with eyes the color of dirty snow stepped closer and bared his teeth at Emma. “Only humans have this trouble, to meet the gaze of our king, not caller of the blood. ” His lip curled back. “Are you truly —”

  Yevgeny punched the man in the face. Emma jerked where she stood, a high-pitched whine filling her ears as her brain tried to catch up to what her eyes had just seen, such casual violence, Yevgeny moving as though he didn’t care whether the punch landed or missed. The thin blond man crumpled and then shot straight back to his feet, hand plastered to his jaw, slush colored eyes wide — but he didn’t look surprised, and he just stood there.

  Yevgeny had already turned and forgotten him. “I must apologize again, I’m afraid, this time for the behavior of my second in command. Later, when he is not so disgraced, you may learn his name.” The Russian wolf king stepped aside and gestured as he had before at the foyer behind him, and the six or so people who had gathered there shrank back, the lean blond man included. “Please,” Yevgeny said mildly to Emma. “Save me the humiliation of having to apologize a third time for keeping you on the front step instead of inviting you inside.”

  Fern, Emma sent, feeling breathless from the rapid little surges of adrenalin jolting through her. This guy is way too polite. It’s starting to weird me out.

  Fern didn’t reply, merely pushed waves of uneasy sympathy at her. He felt the same way.

  Seshua raised a hand, and all the jaguar guards pointed the muzzles of their guns to the sky. The jaguar king looked at Emma. “Are you ready, Emmalina?”

  His face betrayed nothing, but she knew he wasn’t happy — he never called her that unless he was pissed about something. Well, she and him both. She nodded, not trusting her voice, and Seshua moved to follow Yevgeny inside.

  Emma went after him on wobbly legs, Fern’s hand clamped around her left elbow, Red Sun moving to take her right. For a moment she forgot that she was still angry with him, and was just relieved for the wash of heat and prickling nerve endings his touch caused — it made her feel more like herself, blew away the fog her mind seemed wrapped in. Of course, then she was left with Red’s hand on her arm. Feeling guilty, she shrugged him off and stepped out of the cool morning light into the dim hallway of the Russka wawkalaki’s sanctuary.

  The foyer was wide and would have been sunny if not for the massive tapestries hung from the walls; hunting scenes, forests, gardens. All of them beautiful. A claw-footed antique sideboard held probably the biggest bouquet of golden peach roses Emma had ever seen in her entire life — like, bigger than wedding size. Two pillars with heavy vases flanked a wide doorway to the left, and each held an equally industrial-sized bunch of the fragrant yellow roses. Underfoot, marble; Emma’s boots were surprisingly quiet on the immaculate tiles. Ahead, an ornate staircase climbed to the second floor balcony — where two small, dark gray wolf cubs peered down with their muzzles between the rails of the banister, paws under their heads, too much awareness in their dark eyes.

  Emma stopped, transfixed, and then somebody yelled in sharp Russian. A moment later Nadya blustered past her with no regard for personal space or the dignity the wolves seemed to confer upon Emma as caller of the blood. She watched in fascination as Nadya skipped halfway up the stairs in two bounds, powder blue dress belling around her ankles, pale hair flying, hissing more Russian admonishments up at the cubs.

  When they scrambled away with claws clicking against the hardwood floor of the balcony, Nadya seemed to realize what she’d done. She looked down at Emma with a lean, wary expression on her face, eyes wide. Emma hurried on before she had to endure more awkward apologies.

  Yevgeny and Seshua waited for her by a big set of double doors, both looking serious and otherworldly and far too testosterone-pumped for her to handle. All eight maidens lingered close, their exotic looks and attire way out of place in all the fancy décor. Horne and Andres joined them in flanking the two kings, leaving Emma with only Raul and Ixtecan in front of her, and everyone else brought up the rear, including Alexi, whose yellow eyes were flat when she glanced over her shoulder, searching for him.

  Probably, he’d only helped her so that he was less indebted to her for that time she saved his life. She didn’t want to believe it, but it was probably true; a little amiable banter between them in the limo wasn’t going to change the fact that he’d seemed to hate her on sight, and even if his feelings had mellowed, he’d made it clear they could never be friends. Probably, people like Alexi never, ever made friends.

  Seshua’s voice brought her head around. “Yevgeny, we make no false claims here when it comes to the Caller of the Blood. ” Yevgeny paused with his hand on the door, about to push it open; Emma thought he looked embarrassed at the mention of the argument that had earned his second in command a punch in the mouth. But Seshua went on. “Emma is human, and was never prophesied to be otherwise. We need to know, will your gaze be just as intolerable for her a second time?”

 
Emma looked at Seshua, clenching her jaw to keep her mouth from popping open. He wasn’t actually looking out for her comfort, was he?

  She sensed Yevgeny’s attention on her again, and willed herself not to look at him. “I cannot say.” The Russian wolf king’s tone was quiet, clipped; accent easier to understand when he spoke soft and slow. “It has been a long time since any human met my eyes and could meet them again without being held by them, so perhaps, yes, it may be just as intolerable a second time.”

  Yevgeny sounded like he knew what that meant, and one look at Seshua’s face confirmed it: Seshua wasn’t merely looking out for her. He was going to try to use this to his advantage.

  “Unacceptable.” Seshua’s voice was velvet thunder, the way it got when he was playing for keeps. “I will not allow her to be so inconvenienced.” He looked like he was about to go to her side, so Emma held up a hand and gave him her worst glare — the one that wasn’t pretty.

  “For God’s sake, Seshua, can’t we get a little farther than the doorway this time? We can at least go in and talk.” His brows lowered, and she was about to open her mouth to really turn on the charm when Yevgeny spoke.

  “I have never met a human whom I could not look away from.” Everyone turned to look at him, and Emma remembered in time to stare at his shirt collar. “The human gaze holds no power over mine; humans are too…” He grimaced, spreading his hands. “How do you say it? Too low on the food chain. So, they are captured by our gaze, but it is not, how do you say… mutual.” He cleared his throat, fists clenching, and Emma swore she heard the creak of stressed knuckles.

  She amazed herself by finding her voice. “What does that mean?”

  Yevgeny shrugged, shoulders stiff. “It means you call to the beast. You are a threat, whether you mean me good or ill, for you pose a challenge, and I am wolf king, first among us.”

  “Alpha,” Emma said.

  He nodded. “Alpha. Yes. As alpha, I am bound by blood and spirit to answer the challenge. One day it will be my death, and I welcome it with open arms, for as first among us I can do nothing else.”

  Well, that was a suitably grandiose statement. Emma put her hands on her hips, glaring at Yevgeny’s neck. “So what you’re trying to say is, maybe if I can meet your eyes and force you to hold mine, as a threat, or a challenge or whatever — then maybe I can meet them a second time and not want to crawl into a hole and die?”

  The wolf king barked a laugh, flashing white teeth for the briefest instant. “Yes. As welcome guest in my home, as honored rival if not ally, then yes, I ask you to meet my eyes.” He bowed again, just low enough to send his silver tawny hair sliding over his shoulders. “If my lady wills it, let it be so.”

  He straightened. Emma clenched her stomach, her fists, her jaw, and looked him in the eyes.

  Still terrifying — but just eyes.

  14

  The wolf king sat in an overstuffed armchair, Nadya standing on one side, the thin blond guy on the other. Emma faced him from her perch on an equally overstuffed couch, feeling silly with Fern seated at her right and Teremun at her left and Ashai draped with awkward grace over the arm of the couch. All eight maidens had curled up at her feet, and she wished she could take the boots off and cross her legs underneath her — it felt strange having her feet sat on. She also wished she could put her drink down — mineral water with a wedge of lemon and ice, refreshing, but the ice blocks clinked in the glass every time her hands shook, which was pretty much every five seconds.

  Behind her stood Andres, Horne and Raul; off to the left of the couch, by the open fire, stood Red Sun and Anton, and closer to the exit were Seshua, Julian, Ixtecan and Alexi. There was hardly any space in the drawing room for the three other wolves who stood behind Yevgeny’s chair — two were the bodyguards who accompanied Nadya to Central America.

  “I will not waste your time any further,” said Yevgeny, staring straight at Emma with his black-rimmed wolf eyes. “Your king and I have discussed the merits of an alliance between our kingdoms, what we are willing to offer, how much; in short, the answer is everything, Emmalina. Everything I have belongs to you and your sovereign kingdom if there’s a chance you can save my daughter. A chance is all I ask for. The rest is up to you and your king.”

  The rich brocade upholstery beneath his hands protested with a quiet ripping sound. Emma didn’t dare look down to see if he’d sprouted claws.

  “Please call me Emma.” She licked her lips, didn’t trust herself to take a sip of water without spilling it on herself. Besides, it’d just be delaying the inevitable — she had to spell it out to the wolf king, because nobody else was going to do it. “Yevgeny,” she began, “There’s some stuff we need to talk about.” Ice rattled in her glass.

  He nodded and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. Firelight turned his shirt to blood red and his hair to white gold. “I am not expecting you to even consider the pledge now, here, right now. I would never…” He blinked, slow, throat working. “It is much to ask. I do not offer the pledge, not yet. I would not risk offending you by being so vulgar.” He shook his head, eyes wide and orange as jack O’ lanterns, and Emma caught the brief flicker of his gaze as he glanced at Seshua.

  Just what the hell had they talked about since Seshua got here? Flower arrangements? Yevgeny was talking about offering the pledge, and he was talking about it as though he didn’t know it could be done without the whole naked-tango routine the prophecy dictated. Well, the prophecy didn’t actually dictate such — it implied, and everyone else had assumed. In fact, only Emma and Kahotep, the jackal prince whose pledge she had accepted, knew exactly what the pledge needed in order to be fulfilled. Nobody important had asked, and everyone else had, again, assumed — assumed she’d done the nasty with the jackal prince.

  Yevgeny cleared his throat. “My servants have prepared breakfast for you and your party, and nothing more specific need be dealt with until you are all fed and rested. I merely wanted to state formally —”

  Emma held up a hand. “Wait.” Yevgeny’s eyes narrowed, flashing, and his chest expanded with a deep breath. Damn, she’d told the alpha what to do. Oh well. “Has Seshua explained everything to you? Our situation?” She looked around, saw a whole lot of carefully blank faces. All except Yevgeny. His prominent jaw was set, but Emma could see the anxiety in the lines at the corners of his eyes, in the pale cast to his cheeks.

  Though he was probably too old and too powerful to give his emotions away, she guessed the answer to her question was no.

  Fern tensed beside her. Careful, Em. I don’t think it’s just the nature of the pledge that Seshua’s been hiding from Yevgeny.

  She turned to look Fern in the eyes. What do you mean?

  “Emmalina,” Seshua growled. Emma looked at him, and couldn’t figure out whether the look in his eyes was a plea or a threat. The corners of his sensual mouth turned down. “I informed the Ruskiy king that we would discuss pertinent matters when you had seen Yekaterina for yourself. He knows there are circumstances which must be dealt with delicately, no more than that.”

  No more than that.

  Then he didn’t know that Emma might not even be able to help Yekaterina in the first place.

  Yevgeny tensed as though about to stand up, shoulders bunched and eyes blazing with intensity. His gaze flicked from Emma to Seshua and back again.

  He didn’t growl, but his voice was hollow with power. “I would not offer violence to honored guests, but I can tolerate little more of this suspense. Speak your minds.”

  Emma leaned forward in her seat, glass of icewater clutched between her hands, ice blocks too melted now to broadcast her nervousness to the room. “Yevgeny, I want to help you and your daughter, I really do. It’s what I’m meant to do. But I might not be able to.”

  His face didn’t change. “I know. My daughter is already half grown; if not for the wasting illness, she would be running with her first hunt this winter. If I pledge to you, the connection between Yekaterina and
I may not be strong enough to save her.” His voice wavered, not with emotion, but with the voice of his beast. Emma felt it riding the air between them like the bitter, copper tang of blood.

  He swallowed loudly. “All I ask for is the chance.”

  Emma paused, thinking furiously. So he definitely did not know that she wasn’t in possession of her full powers, and wouldn’t be until she’d completed the first ritual — which happened to involve sex, too, and Seshua was pretty sure it couldn’t be avoided, not like with the pledge. Damn it. She had to choose her words — and choose what not to tell the wolf king. Hell, either way, Seshua was going to chew her up and spit her out over this, and she had to tell Yevgeny something.

  She opted to get the bad news out of the way before Yevgeny lost his patience and tore her to shreds. “I might not be powerful enough to save your daughter, Yevgeny. Me, not you.”

  Yevgeny started to scoff, and then stopped. Something swam behind his eyes, old and tired and sadder than Emma understood. “But you are Caller of the Blood. ”

  Emma took a deep breath, refusing to look at Seshua. “But I haven’t had…” She faltered, caught herself. “I haven’t come into power yet. I haven’t completed the ritual, the one that’s supposed to, well, you know…”

  She didn’t bother finishing. Yevgeny’s expression made it crystal clear he knew.

  He sat back in his chair, anything but relaxed. It looked more like a conscious effort not to appear as though he wanted to tear her throat out, but then maybe that was just her paranoia talking.

  “The jackal pharaoh of Egypt pledged to you,” said Yevgeny flatly. “You saved their people.”

  Emma winced. “I didn’t save their people. The jackals were waiting for an opportunity to overthrow Khai-Khaldun.”

  Seshua stepped forward. “But she did accept the pledge from the new pharaoh, and the bond is solid.” He shot Emma a stony look. “She is too modest for her own good. There is no reason to believe such a bond would not be possible between Emma and the Ruskiy wawkalaki.”