Wolf's Bane: Book Three of the Demimonde

by Unknown

  I let my breath leak out between my teeth. Galen. He referred to the Roman doctor of the same name. "I'm formally trained in nursing, although I haven't practiced in several years."

  "Nonsense." He smiled and opened his bag, which I saw now was an old-fashioned doctor's bag. He pulled out a thermometer and shook it before placing it in my mouth. "Once a practitioner of healing arts, always a practitioner."

  He chatted with Dierk about my progress during the night, making very little eye contact with me. Although Dierk accurately portrayed me as a hot mess, Tancred nodded as if pleased. He checked my pulses in my wrist and elbow but didn't unwrap the gauze.

  "You rest, Sophia. That is the best medicine for you." He patted my leg again before leaving, making berth around someone else at the door.

  A big room service cart came in, pushed by none other than Stohl. Gee. Those warm fuzzy looks would smother me to death if he wasn't careful. I sighed and cleaned my nails to avoid looking at him.

  I think he hated me more and more every time we saw each other. I guessed serving dinner to your least favorite person was a good reason to glare but it wasn't like I demanded his services. Instead of glaring back, I donned a neutral business face and tried to pretend I wasn't lying in bed with his best friend.

  The two spoke briefly in German—I, of course, understanding nothing and not even resenting them for it. I was through knowing other people's business. It just brought me more trouble.

  Stohl left but not before he favored me with another contemptuous glare.

  I huffed out a sigh. "Really, Dierk, I had no idea your friends were so charming."

  "Ah, they are protective. They worry for me." He rolled to the side of the bed and began opening the trays. "Now, you said you were hungry. Let's see, there's country-fried steak and Eggs Benedict here…"

  My stomach issued an unladylike growl. "That was just what I was hungry for!"

  Gratefully, I dug in. I didn't know how he guessed what would perfectly hit the spot, but he did. Sausage gravy with just the right amount of fresh ground pepper made a mouth-watering contrast to the creamy brightness of Hollandaise sauce. Mouth full, I eyed the carafe. "Tea?"

  "No," he said, almost sheepishly. "Just coffee. Is that okay?"

  "I guess." Inside I was jubilant. Wow. It had been so long since I had coffee that I got a rush just thinking about it. I doubted it was decaf: no tacky orange lid. Screw my no-coffee thing. This was almost like a monster's ball.

  I swallowed a chunk of steak and reached for the carafe. "When did Stohl get a job running room service?"

  "He adapts to the situation. I won't allow anyone else in the room."

  "So he's a guard?"

  Dierk lifted his shoulders in a vague shrug.

  Prisoners were kept under guard. Appetite forgotten, I let the fork slip from my fingers. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the pillows. The anxiety was stirring again.

  "Tired?"

  I nodded. Easier than telling the truth.

  "Want me to leave you alone?"

  "No." I slid down the pillows. I had a feeling that I'd only be safe as long as he was near. "I'm hot. Can I get some Tylenol, at least?"

  "No, it won't help," he said quietly. He lifted the tray off the bed and set it on the desk. "The fever will pass soon, I promise."

  "I want to go home." Then I realized: home.

  Oh, no.

  I never came home after the concert. Dahlia left before the shit storm started and I was confident no one had bothered to call my friends to let them know Sophie was bitten by a werewolf and was shacked up in a hotel under guard.

  "Sleep. We'll talk more when you're rested." He smoothed back my hair and I closed my eyes, too weary to argue.

  Rodrian. What would he think of me when he found out? I wanted to go home. But what if Rodrian didn't want me back?

  Waning gibbous | moon 5% visible

  I woke during the night to use the bathroom. Dierk steadied me and politely waited outside the door. I rested my cheek against the cool wall tiles and almost fell asleep again.

  By morning I was sick of the bed, sick of the room, sick of being inside my skin. I squirmed restlessly through the morning news programs before pushing down the blanket. Swinging my feet over the side, my head spinning like a Tilt-a-Whirl, I reached for the phone and announced: "I'm going home."

  "You can't even sit upright by yourself," he protested.

  Outside, I heard the distant rumble of a trolley car, its rattle and ring. City noises. Foreign noises. I wanted my woods back. "So? I'll lay in my own bed. I want to go. Now."

  "Soon."

  "No." I shook my head once, afraid to stir up a headache. "I had enough."

  "Eat first."

  I wanted to argue, but the rumble in my belly gave me away. "Well. Fine."

  "You have a tremendous spirit." He took the phone out of my hand and set it back on its cradle. "I never imagined a mate with such a ferocious attitude."

  "First, I'm not your mate. Second, I wouldn't date, much less mate, a guy who holds me down and lets an effing werewolf bite me."

  "It was ritual," he said, voice solemn and low. With a gentle hand he pressed me back into the bed, tucking my legs under the sheets.

  I tugged the blankets closer around me. Hot with fever, shaking with chills. There was no happy medium. "No. I know a ritual when I see one. That was an attack."

  "I'm sorry you feel that way. The bite is necessary."

  "Great. Just great. Let's bite Sophie. I like my women hairy." I tried to mimic his voice but it came out more Schwarzenegger-like than I wanted. Tough shit. "What is it with you Europeans? If you wanted to date, you could've asked. But no. You get one of your mutts to chomp me and ruin my life forever."

  Tension seeped into his voice, the sound of someone who was running out of patience. "How is it ruined?"

  "I know all about how you get turned Were. I know all about your so-called safe houses. Don't try to lie. You're going to turn me over to them so they can bite me and hurt me until the full moon. You took my life from me."

  He rubbed his mouth. "How can I convince you that none of that is true?"

  I hugged my ribs and tried to stop shivering. "You can't."

  Dierk paused, blowing out a breath. "Answer me this. Was the one who told you these things Wolf or Demivampire?"

  I narrowed my eyes, suspecting a trap. "DV, of course."

  "Of course." Dierk sat down on the bed, one leg tucked beneath him so he could face me. "So how could he tell you the truth if he himself didn't know it?"

  "He wouldn't lie," I insisted.

  "Look at me." He lifted my chin and peered into my eyes. "Do you know any Wolfenkinder?"

  "Yes."

  "Besides me or my men."

  "Yes." I pushed his hand off my chin.

  "Okay." He nodded. "Who is his pack?"

  He'd said his pack, not their pack. I wondered how much he actually knew about me. "I—don't know, actually. I haven't really seen him much since he started running with them."

  "Did he ever describe our rituals and traditions?"

  Of course, Toby never talked Were junk in front of me. He tried to keep his otherness low-key. "I'm not sure even he knows them."

  "Then how can you know the truth? Even if my brethren were desperate enough to increase their numbers—and I can assure you they are not—you are different. This is the Leni." He took up my unwounded hand, curling his fingers around mine. "We are allowed only one chance. If it is destiny that we are life mates then the moon will take you as her own and make you Were. It's fate, destiny. Not brutality."

  His eyes were so gentle, so full of desperate wishes for me to understand.

  Part of me responded to his plea, the part that still assumed a false sense of familiarity and softened toward him. I had to ignore it, because the bigger unknown was the bigger danger. "I can't believe you. I just can't."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I don't know you. I don't know wh
o you are or what you all are saying about me when you speak German. I don't know what a Leni is or even a König—

  "Leni is the word for moon. It's a traditional mate-selection ritual."

  I snorted. "I find it a little hard to believe you need a ritual to get girls."

  He toyed with my rings, twisting them and examining each one. "I have never had a problem getting girls. However, my mate will be selected by the Leni."

  "So…Weres can't get married unless they do this ritual?"

  "It is not a universal condition. Ordinary Were can marry as they please."

  A dull dread settled into my gut like a weight. I leaned backwards into the pillows. "You aren't ordinary, are you?"

  Dierk shook his head, a quick wag, and looked away, his Adam's apple jumping.

  I took a deep breath, even though anxiety had tightened my chest to the point where the muscles had frozen, making each breath hurt. "Who are you, Dierk?"

  "King," he said, his eyes downcast. His mouth twisted into a rueful smile, and he glanced around the room before finding my face again. "I am king."

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. The gravity of my plight had just exponentially exploded into astronomic proportions. A Were—I had hoped to evade a Were. I had my entire population of Demivamps to hide behind if I couldn't evade him. But a king—I'd need an army.

  It would take an army, and I would cause a war.

  Suddenly, I felt more alone than ever. I wasn't worth a war.

  "Look." He released my left hand to reach across my body. Dierk tugged my wounded hand toward him, unwrapping the thick white gauze.

  Peeling off the dressing, I saw the wound for the first time. Ugly puncture wounds dotted my palm from heel to center. I gasped at the rawness, the greenish tint of newly-forming scabs. "Oh, my God!"

  "Turn your hand over," he said.

  The skin was intact.

  But… how could the wolf have bitten so deeply without marring both sides?

  Dierk held up his own hand to show me light pink marks on the back of his left hand. Scars. It was the hand he used to hold mine. "I heal much faster."

  He lay his hand over mine until they were positioned the same way they'd been when I was bitten. The bites lined up perfectly.

  I slumped against the pillow and tilted my face up toward his. "The wolf bit you, too?"

  "It was ritual," he repeated.

  "Ugh." I yanked my hand away. King or no king, I was skeeved. "Universal precautions, hello? You're a rock star, for crimmeny's sake! Who knows what's floating around in your veins? Now I need Hep titers and HIV prophylaxis rounds. Great."

  "No, you don't. Wolfe are resistant to blood-borne disease. I won't give you AIDS, I promise." He shrugged. "I guess that lycanthropy is the ultimate vaccine."

  "Yippee. Still not a fair trade." I winced when he reclaimed my hand and redressed the wound. "Not even Neosporin? Or a rabies shot?"

  "That is funny, but no. It's a clean wound."

  "Dog bites are full of germs. All that licking—"

  "Not dog." He looked mildly offended, and narrowed his eyes. "Wolf. Now rest. I'll order something to eat."

  "Order me clothes, too, 'cause I'm going home."

  "Your jeans have been cleaned. Your shirt, I fear, was ruined. You are quite the bleeder. I did purchase fresh lingerie. I had to guess your size but…" He grazed his hand down my side, over my hip. "I think I guessed it perfectly. For now, you're staying in bed. Really. I am der König. Why is it so hard for you to obey?"

  "I'm a spiteful bitch who doesn't take orders," I said, and rolled over. The fuzzy hot feeling was coming back, and it didn't take me long to fall asleep again.

  Having the last word can be so satisfying.

  Waning gibbous | moon 4% visible

  I complained and nagged at him every time I opened my eyes. His patience was wearing thin, and every time I started the Going Home mantra his tone became a little tighter, a little more brittle. I'd grin when he wasn't looking because I wanted him to get so sick of me he threw me out.

  But he didn't. He'd always get this close to losing his poo and he'd stop, reset himself, and end the conversation.

  His self-control annoyed me and added more fuel to my resistance, which I continued even while he marched me into the bathroom and pushed me into the shower. I had only a moment to hastily disrobe behind the shower curtain before he reached in and started the water. The shower felt so good I couldn't complain.

  Dierk stayed in the bathroom long enough for me to wash, leaving only after I turned off the water. When the door clicked shut, the ache came back. At least it was a double-shampooed ache. I dressed in the clothes he laid out for me—my jeans, new underthings, another of his t-shirts. It smelled like him—cologne, maybe? I couldn't define it, but didn't care.

  It didn't make me angry. Part of me wished it did.

  When I was finished in the bathroom, I came out to see Tancred waiting for me. His lips pressed in a thin line, he shook his head slowly from side to side at me. Okay, then. He wasn't happy, either. I wondered if I could get a third opinion before deciding I just didn't give a flying feck what any of these Weres thought about my departure.

  Tancred took my temperature and redressed my hand with a petroleum dressing and clean gauze. He clucked his tongue. "You should know better, Sophia."

  I lifted my chin and looked stubbornly away from them both. Nothing I knew mattered anymore. I just wanted to go home.

  When Tancred left, I sat on the bed. Dierk helped me into my boots, which he simultaneously admired and chided for their impracticality. Both were taken as compliments. I put a lot of work into selecting my footwear. Good things took effort.

  Dierk draped one of his jackets over my shoulders before we left the room. His arm around me, he guided me to the elevator, through the lobby, out to a waiting car. A man named Olberich drove, not Stohl. (Bonus right there.) We sat together in the back seat, and we did not speak. The leg room was amazing. I think the rear seats reclined, too.

  The only part that worried me was that he didn't need directions to the Stocks. When Olberich slowed the car to a stop in front of the porch, I looked up at the front of the house through the window. Nearly a dozen cars lined the driveway. So many lights were on. Nearly the entire house was lit. I craned my neck. All except for my wing. That part of the house was dark.

  Dark like my fate.

  "A full house, mein König." Olberich said. "You should not get out of the car."

  "Nonsense. I won't simply drop her off at the curb. Let them worry. I do not." Dierk came around and opened the door himself, easing me from the car and guiding me toward the steps. "Are you sure about this, Sophie?"

  The front door flew open before we reached the porch, the foyer lights spilling out in accusation as Dierk helped me up the steps, his arm around my shoulders. I was weary from the exertion of walking from the car. My head drooped and I leaned into him for support, too weak to hold myself up.

  I knew what it looked like. I wanted to cry.

  Rodrian stood in the doorway, a silhouette against the sharp light. I still had a low fever and a banging headache and the bright light made me wince. I hid my face in Dierk's chest. It only made things look worse.

  "You," Rodrian said. It was the blackest word I'd ever heard him utter.

  "Guten Abend," Dierk replied carefully. "It is good to see you again, Herr Thurzo."

  Rodrian advanced to the edge, towering over us. "If you have hurt her—"

  Several men slid out, fanning out in an arc behind him. I didn't recognize any of them by their power, and their faces were silhouetted by the glare from the foyer.

  Dierk tightened his grip on my shoulder. "I would never. She is a thing to be treasured, not damaged."

  "Sophie," Rodrian said. "Are you all right?"

  I could have wept for the worry and the concern in his eyes. I would have, if I wasn't preoccupied at the moment with remaining upright.

  "Rode," I said, whis
per-thin. "I'm sorry."

  "Sorry?" He rushed down the steps toward us. "I'm just glad you're home safe and sound."

  Dierk tensed slightly, bunching muscle and bracing, but stood his ground, holding me as I huddled under his jacket

  Rodrian stopped in front of me and inhaled sharply. Without taking his slowly brightening eyes from mine, he issued a warning spike of power. His eyes glowed, a lionesque shade of amber. His voice was angry. Deadly angry. "What have you done to her?"

  "Nothing that destiny would not have arranged on its own."

  "Rode," I said. "Help me. Take me to my room."

  Rodrian pursed his lips and took the last few steps toward me and extended his hand. After a small hesitation, I pulled away from Dierk. His jacket slipped from my shoulder as I left the protective circle of his arm and the cold air found its way through the gap. Chills raced through me and I reached up to pull it back around me. As I grabbed the collar, Rodrian's eyes immediately spied the white gauze on my hand.

  "Inside!" Rodrian hissed, his eyes fully ablaze. He unfurled his power like a tremendous flag, so territorial.

  Dierk sighed as if he expected more than simple conflict with Rodrian. He gently fixed his coat back over my shoulders and urged me forward, still supporting me.

  Rodrian cut between us. "Not you. You've done enough."

  Dierk didn't back away from him. I wasn't sure it was a wise move, because I'd never seen Rodrian like this before. I also didn't need to be a Sophia to know that his men were hair-trigger-ready to jump at the slightest go-ahead.

  Dierk had to know he was dealing with a volatile Demivamp, and he still stayed his course. "I will stay until I see she is settled. I will be assured that she's properly cared for."

  "You will leave." Rodrian leaned into him, a flare of power behind the menacing gesture. "Now."

  I got between them and placed my uninjured hand on his Rodrian's chest. "Back off, Rode."

  "Stay out of it, Sophie." He stepped back but I didn't know if he backed off Dierk—or away from me.

  I felt like a leper, dirty and tainted. "I can't. I'm ass deep in it. If I could've stayed out of it, this wouldn't be happening."