I looked down to find that her hand was covered in blood, not only her hand, but patches of her body were covered in thick, wet blood. I felt it against my skin, soaking into my hair.
The sheets cradling us were no longer white. For a moment, I thought she had bled me, but then I realized she hadn't. The bed itself was bleeding.
Lenorre laughed again and a voice in my head said, "Open your eyes."
I tried to scream as she lowered her head to my body, but no sound came out. I don't know what made me think it, but I knew I did not want her to press her lips between my legs.
I stopped fighting, focusing instead on the fact that I had to wake up. I could feel myself floating, floating in that void between sleep and wakefulness.
A voice that was not Lenorre's screamed, "No!" and I was suddenly in the dream again, thrust back into my body and trapped by the weight of some unseen power. My throat grew tight, too tight to breathe.
Something was terribly fucking wrong. I was too coherent, too aware I was dreaming, and yet, I couldn't break the dream. I tried to call to the wolf, but it was as if I had become an empty vessel. She was not there to answer my call.
I tried to call to the raven, to the blood in my veins, and the choking hold around my throat tightened.
"Your magic will not save you from me!"
If I could've yelled back, I would have, but I couldn't. The hand around my throat threatened to crush my windpipe, made each breath feel like I was trying to breathe concrete into my lungs.
I felt the edge of heated energy, the brush of feathers against my skin, though I knew neither flame nor feather materialized in the dream. I heard the raven's call, a call to arms, a call to war.
Glass shattered, a window broke, a black mist slammed into the creature that had taken Lenorre's form and I could suddenly move again, breathe again.
The thing brought its arms up, shielding its face.
A hand touched mine and I turned my head. The hand was pulling me, pulling me out of the puddle of blood and sheets that had suctioned to my skin. The hand belonged to a cloaked figure, and though I could not tell who it was, I knew it was doing me a favor.
There were screams, screams that sounded more like the cries of an owl or a hawk than those of a human.
The cloaked figure jerked me free of the bed.
I drew a ragged and resounding breath. Someone was holding me, using their body like a shield around mine. I opened my eyes to find the shelter of Lenorre's dimly lit bedroom. The figure holding me drew back, and I realized it was Zaphara.
"Are you all right?" With her body against mine, she looked down at me, her amethyst eyes concerned.
"What the hell was that?" I asked, shivering despite myself.
"You were being attacked," she said, drawing away.
For some reason, I didn't want her to let me go. I said her name, and as if she understood, she stopped drawing away. Her arms encircled me and I let her.
"Scare the werewolf piss out of you, did it?" she asked somewhat wryly.
"I'm freezing." My teeth were chattering when I spoke and I didn't understand why.
"It was feeding off of you, Kassandra."
I wasn't sure I believed her, but I was too cold and weak to protest.
"Is Lenorre awake yet?" I asked.
"She'll rise soon."
"How did you know?"
"Your raven sought aid," she said. "I answered its call when I felt the magic."
"I guess I should say thanks."
"I wouldn't say it yet." She rose from the bed and went to Lenorre's closet, grabbing a thick robe from the back of the closet door. Lenorre lay beside us, beautiful and still completely out of it. Zaphara returned, settling the robe about my shoulders.
"I could keep you warmer if you let me lay down beside you." I curled up on my side, trembling with a cold that made no sense and feeling out of sorts. Zaphara used her long, lean body to spoon mine, bundling blankets and the robe around me.
I felt more tired than I had when I'd first fallen asleep. As if Zaphara sensed it, she said, "Sleep, Kassandra. I'll stay and make sure you are safe."
I felt her magic like a warm glow, as if she'd drawn aside a curtain to let the light of the sun peek through. The warmth suffused my body, gradually calming my shivering limbs.
In time, with Zaphara's magic keeping me warm, I slept.
*
"Kassandra." It was Lenorre's voice that woke me but the smell of coffee that convinced me to sit up.
I gratefully accepted the mug she offered, mumbling thanks and hoping it would help clear the mists of sleep. I took a long drink, vaguely remembering the day's dream and Zaphara's presence, feeling surprisingly more comfortable in my skin than I had earlier.
"You died at dawn?" I asked after I drank half the cup's contents.
"Some hours after," she said, reclining beside me.
I raised my brows. "Thought I was powerful food?"
"You are," she said, smiling. "I drank Zaphara's blood then as well, and I believe that this time, because I needed to feed, it did not affect me as strongly."
Lenorre had drunk my blood during sex and the little bit she'd drunk had kept her alive and kicking through the entire day. Of course, she had fed from Zaphara earlier then too. I don't think any of us had really considered the fact that it could have been the combination of Zaphara's blood and my blood that had done the trick. I wondered when Lenorre had thought of it.
"What you mean is that because you went so long without feeding, because you needed to feed, that your body used it as fuel instead of an added boost?" I asked.
She dipped her head forward in response.
"So if you drink my blood when you've already fed, do you think it will work again?"
"I believe so, yes. Still, when I needed to feed, your blood shortened my death."
I took another swig of coffee, savoring its strong flavor softened with sugar and cream.
"Good evening, by the way."
Her lips curved again. "Good evening, love." She toyed with the ends of my hair. "Zaphara has told me some of what happened this afternoon, and though I wish to speak with you more of it, there is a certain matter which you must attend before we figure out what attacked you."
"What's wrong?"
"Rosalin seems to have taken to her bed," she said, tugging lightly on my hair before releasing it.
I swallowed a mouthful of coffee and lowered the cup.
"What do you mean?"
"She needs her alpha, Kassandra."
"I'm not her alpha, Lenorre."
"You are now," she said with an intense and serious expression. "You have claimed her as your wolf. She and the others."
When I didn't say anything, she asked, "Will you neglect them and your newfound responsibility to them?"
"I haven't had enough coffee for this conversation," I said, a bit sourly.
"Kassandra," she said.
I sighed. "I didn't want that responsibility."
"Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that you truly did not want them as your wolves last night? If you had not wanted them, if you had not agreed with your wolf, they would not be yours."
"I wanted to protect Rosalin. I really didn't want to sign up to be anyone's alpha."
She touched the white streak in my hair this time, letting it slide through her fingers. "Whether you desired it or no, it is what you are, Kassandra. The sooner you come to terms with that bit of knowledge, the better things will be."
Stubbornly, I shook my head and started sliding out of bed. I placed the mug of coffee on the nightstand by Lenorre's side.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going to be honest when I say I'm not ready for this conversation," I said. "And I am going to get dressed and go check on my friend."
I went to Lenorre's closet and found a pair of black silk shorts that I'd left in case of emergencies. I stepped into them and settled the hem of the white shirt down over them. Lenorre reclined at ease
on the bed, watching me as I shut the closet door.
"Being Rosalin's alpha does not make her any less of a friend. Why are you running from who you are?"
"I don't like the title. It implies ownership. I don't want ownership."
"No," she said, "it implies leadership, something Sheila Morris does not and will never understand. She sees her rank in the pack as means to possession. She does not lead them, Kassandra. A true alpha leads and protects. They do not possess. They do not force their wolves to give them submission. The submission is offered freely out of respect. Sheila has not given her wolves room to respect her. To fear her, yes, but respect…"
"Fear and respect are two different things," I said, agreeing. I pushed my hair out of my face, trying not to feel frustrated and failing. "Why are we talking about this?"
She came to me and I took a step back so that I could meet her gaze without tilting my head back at an awkward angle. "Rosalin has tasted what it means to be part of a pack. She knows what it is to live her life surrounded by a family of pack-mates. I know, because you are a lone wolf, you do not fully understand, but understand this," she stepped into me, "Rosalin lost the only family she knew, aside from her brother, when she was younger. She cannot return to Sheila's pack with your mark upon her, and now she has lost the only true family she knows. If she does not have someone to nurture and protect her, other wolves there for her, she will be a broken thing. The wolves have come to your call, whether you've willed it or no. Carver and Claire have defied Sheila. Will you deny them the leader they need because of your sensibilities to a title? Will you deny them the pack they need?"
"I don't know how to be an alpha, Lenorre."
"And you think I knew how to be a Countess? It is something you learn as you go, Kassandra. Consider yourself lucky that you have the wolf to guide you," she said, touching the white streak in my hair.
I licked my lips, shutting my eyes. "And what if the power goes to my head? Goes to the wolf's head?"
"Do you truly believe that will happen?"
"I don't know, Lenorre. I feel like I don't know anything right now."
Lenorre wrapped her arms around me, placing a kiss on my forehead. "Figure it out, Kassandra. For their sake, do not run from your power or rank, as it is the only thing that will help them right now."
I nodded. What else could I do? What was there to say? I felt the conflict between the wolf and me. In the clearing, I had agreed with her that we had to protect those we could from Sheila. But with the aftermath of the wolf's surety and power came a thread of insecurity.
I was scared to the bone that I didn't know how. The responsibility hanging over my head meant I would have to embrace my wolf even more, and though I had learned how to live with the wolf inside of me, as a part of me, that was all she was, a part. A piece. There was still a strong vein of fear that ran within me. If I embraced her too much, would I lose myself entirely? Would she take even more pieces of me until there was no Kassandra Lyall left, until there was only wolf?
CHAPTER seventeen
t wasn't until I emerged from the basement and into the main hall that branched off of it that I realized I didn't know exactly where Rosalin's room was. I knew it was upstairs, but aside from that, I'd never even seen her room. I strode barefoot past the life-size statues that lined the wall, rounding the corner and ascending the stairs that led to the upper level. Even if I specifically didn't know where her room was, I should've been able to find it by smell. I stopped to consider which way to go, left or right? I went down the hall to the right. I was sure I'd seen or heard Rosalin coming from that direction before.
As it was, Carver stood outside the second doorway on the right. He too, was barefoot, wearing a pair of light jeans. The white shirt he wore was dirty, probably the same one he'd been wearing last night.
"I see you haven't had a chance to shower, either," I said.
He shook his head. "Claire's in there trying to comfort her. We've been taking turns keeping guard outside the door."
I wondered why they were keeping guard. Lenorre's house should have been safe territory. Surely, Sheila wasn't crazy enough to try anything on Lenorre's property.
"She's still shaken?" I asked, keeping my voice soft even though Rosalin and Claire could hear us on the other side of the door.
Carver visibly relaxed in front of me, leaning against the wall, his shoulders dropping. "This is the worst I've seen her," he said. "She usually takes it better than the rest of us. As beta, she has to."
I understood what he meant, although I was anything but happy about it.
"After everything she's endured," I whispered, "the last thing she deserved was Sheila Morris."
"The last thing any of us wolves deserve is Sheila as alpha," he said.
I gave him a considering look. "Why?" I asked. "Why'd you help me yet again, Carver? I was an ass to you."
He smiled, but there was something sad in it. "I'm not strong enough to overthrow her," he said. "None of us are. I recognized your mark the moment you walked into my trailer with the police. I was angry about a stray walking onto my turf, accusing me of murder. How would you have felt? I realized when you visited the pack, that if we ever had any hope of getting rid of Sheila, you're it. Funny, huh?"
"I don't know that I'm you're hope, Carver."
He pinned me with a very serious expression. "You have to be, Kassandra. You stood up to Sheila last night. You're the only wolf I've ever seen stand up to her. Many of us have wanted to, but we didn't, we don't. If she doesn't punish us, she'll punish someone else within the pack that we care about. She finds a weak spot and drives her claws into it."
"I felt her strength, Carver. She's strong, stronger than even I anticipated."
"She is strong," he said, "but she's not powerful. Physical strength doesn't equal power, not always. You touched a wolf in the clearing and she fell to her knees in the face of your power."
"She was like, eighteen."
"She was the epsilon, the fifth strongest wolf in the pack and you dominated her with nothing more than a touch. Why do you think the wolves finally parted? You showed them power, the true power of an alpha."
I hadn't remembered Carver being behind me when I'd returned to the pack to confront Sheila. He must've followed me, but I didn't like it that I hadn't known that at the time.
"Why is it everyone's throwing this alpha thing in my face?" I grumbled, more to myself than to Carver.
"Why is it you're fighting it?" he asked, and because I'd already had that little conversation with Lenorre, I gave him an unhappy look.
"I'm not a fan of the title."
"Don't worry about the fucking title," he said. "Worry about fucking helping us."
"I can't worry about that right now, Carver. I'll do what I can, but right now I need to worry about Rosalin."
I reached for the doorknob, but it opened before I touched it. Claire stepped out of the room. Her eyes were red as if she hadn't gotten any sleep and as if she'd been crying.
She touched my shoulder. "I hope you have better luck than I did."
I nodded and with a heavy heart stepped into Rosalin's room.
*
"You're not going to accept it, are you?" Rosalin's voice came from under a mound of blankets on the bed.
"Accept what?" I asked, shutting the door quietly behind me.
"That mark in your hair and everything it means," she said.
"I'm a bit skeptical." I gave the mound a light push. "Move over."
Rosalin obliged, wiggling closer to the wall her bed was pressed against. I sat on the edge of her bed. Her room wasn't nearly as spacious as Lenorre's, but it was spacious, nonetheless. A painting hung on the wall by her closet doors. The painting was of a dark forest, here and there golden eyes peeked around bushes and the trunks of trees. In the middle of the painting, a wolf crouched low, skulking out of the shadows like darkness given form. The others seemed to watch, patiently waiting for that one lone wolf to guide the way.
My chest grew tight and I couldn't explain why.
"I see you're not holding up very well," I said.
"The bed is holding me just fine."
I reclined against the pillows. "So I see. Why are you hiding?"
"I don't know. Why are you skeptical?"
"I don't understand how a streak of white in my hair marks me as an alpha or how I'm supposed to be an alpha."
"You carry your wolf with you in human form," she said, "that marks you as an alpha."
I didn't want to bring up Lukas Morris, but something he had said to me crossed my mind. I decided to leave his name out of it. Morris was probably the last thing Rosalin wanted to be reminded of.
"I thought the mark of the alpha only happened with hereditary lycanthropy?"
She peeked over her blankets at me. "You actually know about hereditary lycanthropy?"
"Not a lot, but I've heard of it, yes." I was trying to remember Lukas's exact words, something about the virus taking a turn and mimicking hereditary lycanthropy in that regard. Honestly, I didn't understand either.
"Then you'd know that the lycanthropy virus actually branched off of hereditary lycanthropy."
"So you think it's a possibility because of that?"
"Don't you?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not a scientist."
"And lycanthropy is something that still baffles modern science."
I nodded.
"You want to know what I think?"
"I have a feeling you're going to tell me either way, so go ahead."
"I think you're questioning it to death because you don't want to accept it and if you keep questioning it, Kass, you're never going to accept it."
"Why is everyone ganging up on me today?"
"Sheila isn't going to let last night go."
"If we're going to have this conversation, can you at least come out from under the covers so I'm not talking to a pink cocoon?"
She pushed the covers down. Her honey eyes were as red and raw as Claire's had been, if not more.
[Kassandra Lyall Preternatural Investigator 03] - Bloody Claws Page 13
