Whispered Bonds

by Tally Adams

  On the opposite side of the room, two large boxes sat side by side; heavy silver chains draped around them and affixed with another lock that looked like a padlock from the Jurassic era to Lyric. She rushed toward them, knowing full well Paoli was trapped inside one or the other.

  "How the hell did you pull this off?" William asked, leaning forward to capture Emily's mouth in a kiss the moment she neared him and started trying a key on the chains.

  "Ouch!" Emily yelped, a sizzling sound filling the room as her flesh was burned. She reflexively jerked her hand away from the silver, allowing the chains to fall back with a clatter. "Lyric, come on," she said, glaring angrily at the metal.

  Lyric stopped in her flight and hurried over to open locks as quickly as possible, marveling at the metal that only she could safely touch and wondering how the werewolves had managed to handle it when no one else in the immortal world could.

  "With help," Jonathon answered William's question from the doorway.

  William slid to the floor gracefully when the last of his chains fell away, but Empusa crumpled on his bad leg when it was his turn. Only Jonathon rushing forward to steady him kept him from collapse. "Easy now," he said to Empusa, gently settling him on the floor. "You'll need to have that leg set, and soon. Or else it will have to be re-broken, and that'll hurt like sin."

  Empusa was ashen-faced and silent. William and Jonathon were droning on about everything that had happened, starting with their capture when they first left the motel. Evidently, a team had already been closing in when they left, and had thrown great silver nets over them, rendering them helpless for transport to Lycaon.

  "I didn't scent them until it was too late," William was complaining. "I'm not sure how they managed to hide that many people from my sense of smell. Empusa didn't detect them at all, so it's not just me. They must be using the Coven's magic to hide themselves."

  Jonathon said something in response, but Lyric wasn't listening. She heard pounding from one of the boxes where their vampire counterparts were clearly housed, but the other box remained silent. Her apprehension increased with each step as she neared the silent box.

  The lock was heavy and didn't want to cooperate with her shaking hands, which didn't help the state of her nerves in the least. Finally, it ground open and fell to the floor with a dull thud. Lyric gripped the chain and dragged it off onto the floor, as well. The crate on her left flew open to reveal a very pissed-off looking and disheveled Sekhmet. He leapt out with inhuman agility and landed at her side, immediately joining in her efforts to pry the other crate open. It wasn't until William's shoulder bumped her that she realized everyone else was there and helping, as well.

  The lid gave with a terrible screech and slid to the floor to reveal Paoli. Or what had once been Paoli, at least. His hair had come free of the binding he always used and lay all across his shoulders, spilling into the area around his head. His face was gray and waxy, his cheeks and eyes sunken and shriveled. His sensual lips now looked dry and cracked, his shoulders and arms wasted.

  Lyric gasped at the sight of him and felt the whole world tilt. Sekhmet grabbed her under the arms and held her upright while reality seemed to crash in on her. Paoli couldn't be dead. He couldn't be. What about their connection? Twisted fate, and all that? In fact, why hadn't she been weakened when he was? When William had been wounded, Emily had lost enough power she couldn't hold her wolf shape. Why hadn't it been the same for her and Paoli?

  "He needs blood," Sekhmet hissed in her ear. "The bus isn't here, and he can't wait. Are you willing to give him what he needs, even knowing it will cement the bond between you?"

  "Yes," Lyric said without hesitation, unable to tear her eyes from Paoli. She couldn't stand to see him like that. Blood pooled all around him in the confined space. It brought to mind the sheer volume of blood in the gymnasium. Could he be saved? It didn't look like he was even breathing.

  Sekhmet took her hand and turned it palm-up. One of his fingernails lengthened to a point as she watched, and he dragged the sharp edge over her wrist. When blood flowed from the wound, Paoli's piercing blue eyes snapped open.

  "Talk to him," Sekhmet urged, guiding her bleeding wrist to Paoli's mouth. "He can hear you. Remind him who you are, and that you're completing the bond of your own free will."

  Lyric did as he suggested. Her heart in her eyes, she watched the blood flow between Paoli's lips. "It's Lyric, Paoli," she murmured, using her other hand to stroke his hair. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to understand you were right. My place is at your side. My blood to you, and yours to me. Connected forever, right?" A tear slid down her cheek and onto his arm.

  His face began to take color; his lips growing soft and pliable again. His hands came up forcefully and pulled her arm fully to his mouth, forming a seal around the wound. She gasped in surprise when his sharp fangs pierced her and the suction began, drawing blood far faster than she was expecting.

  "Don't fight him," Sekhmet warned when she began to struggle. "He's never taken blood directly from a person. He never learned control, which means fighting him is only going to make it worse."

  "Well, what do you want me to do, then?" Lyric asked fearfully, growing light-headed from panic or blood loss; she wasn't sure which.

  "He needs to recognize you; to get through the fog in his mind," Emily said a little frantically, moving to push her forward until her forehead rested against Paoli's. "Stay calm. Just keep talking to him," Emily said.

  Lyric stared into the fathomless depths of Paoli's eyes. Her arm was wedged between them, his mouth still clamped to the wound, but his eyes were slowly becoming more focused. "You and me, right Paoli? Souls connected, no matter what," she said softly, finally understanding and accepting the truth. She lived because he did. And she'd continue to live for as long as Paoli was on this earth.

  Immortal human.

  It all made sense now.

  From the first night when he'd held her in his arms, there had never been the chance of escape. There was no going back. He'd shared his immortality with her and allowed her to become his weakness. But in so doing, she'd also become his strength.

  With that realization, a calmness settled over her. "Take what you need from me," she said, still holding his gaze and willing him to come back to himself. Her body felt almost too heavy to hold up anymore. Her legs began to tremble, but she ignored it. He was fighting his way back from a darkness she'd never know, and she was determined to see him through it. "I'm yours, as you are mine."

  "Paoli," William whispered, reaching in to grip Paoli's forearm. "You're going to kill Lyric if you don't get control."

  But Lyric didn't care. She reached for the place Paoli always spoke in her mind, and found him there again. He wasn't dead. He was right where he belonged. I am yours, she whispered where only he could hear her.

  Chapter Forty Three

  The whisper of those words echoed in Paoli's mind. Lyric. His Lyric. She was so perfect, right down to the stubborn streak that would forever keep him on his toes. He'd known it from the very first time he laid eyes on her. She'd been dying from blood loss; surrounded by destruction and death. Yet, when she saw his face and recognized he was struggling with his own inner demons, she'd reached to comfort him. She'd seen past the facade he normally wore to the darkness he tried to keep buried. And she accepted him. All of him, without fear.

  As I am yours, he whispered along their intimate connection.

  I need you to stop feeding, Paoli. You're taking too much from me. Stop feeding, she urged, bringing him to full awareness.

  Lyric rested her head against his; her eyes boring into him. The taste on his tongue was her own life's blood, and the invisible band he felt slip around them both signaled the bond between them had finally been completed. He stopped feeding and released her arm, staring at her in shock. What had she done? A feeling of awe settled over him with the realization that she'd completed their bond.

  Paoli stood from the crate in vampire fashion—straight
up onto his feet—dragging Lyric's weak body into his arms as he did so. He searched her face. She was pale. How much blood had he taken from her? Everything was so clouded in his mind, he honestly didn't know. It was clearly more than she had to spare, since she looked to be at death's door.

  "Put me down," she said, her voice sounding dry and brittle.

  "No," he murmured, closing his eyes and breathing in the wonderful scent of her. "Do you have any idea the risk you just took?" He demanded, but there was no heat to his anger; only a mixture of fear and relief. If he hadn't come back to himself-

  A weak smile touched her face. "You die I die, right?"

  He gave a slight huff around a sudden lump in his throat. "Right."

  "I'm not ready to go yet, so I figured I better keep you around," she teased, reaching up to cup his cheek tenderly. "Now put me down. And if anyone happens to have some juice and a cookie, I've just made a significant donation." This pronouncement brought a round of forced, quiet chuckles to the room that did, at least, break the tense atmosphere.

  Paoli carried her to the wall and sat her down carefully in the corner so she could lean against it if she got dizzy. He stood back up and just looked at her. She was as fragile as spun glass, but had the backbone of a warrior. And she was his. Fully bound and eternally connected.

  Michael entered the room with a pitcher of dark liquid and two crystal tumblers. He poured both glasses full and handed one to Paoli and one to Sekhmet, who glanced over the rim at Lyric and offered her a smug smile and a subtle toast.

  Staring at the glass in his hand, the truth dawned on Lyric. She went from a state of placid tranquility to indignation in the blink of an eye. "You can drink werewolf blood," she gasped, remembering William doing exactly that.

  "We can," he agreed, his smile turning into a mischievous grin.

  "Then why did you-" Lyric broke off, suddenly too furious to put her thoughts into words. "You son of a bitch," she snarled.

  "He never would have completed the bond," Sekhmet said on a sigh, gesturing toward Paoli. "And if this experience has taught me anything, it's that you're handy to have around and we need you for many things. Therefore, I took advantage of the situation for everyone's good."

  Paoli pinned Sekhmet with a look. "What did you do?" he asked dangerously, looking back and forth between them.

  "Nothing untoward, I assure you," Sekhmet said, tipping his glass to drain the contents and handing it back for a refill.

  Paoli looked to Lyric for confirmation, but she was thinking about Sekhmet's words. We need you for many things, he'd said. That sounded to her like he was acknowledging she had importance, other than just being Paoli's human. Coming from Sekhmet, it was extravagant praise and a powerful admission. For that reason, she tamped down her anger. "Nothing to worry about," she answered Paoli's questioning look.

  He didn't seem altogether satisfied with that, but he didn't say anything more. Conversation broke out with everyone explaining their own part in this whole ordeal, and Paoli's attention was caught in the play-by-play. Amber's death was chimed in by Emily, who seemed entirely ambivalent about the whole thing, though Lyric did notice William's arm tighten slightly around her shoulders as she spoke.

  Eventually, the talk died down and an idea occurred to Lyric. "There's a lot of silver here," she said thoughtfully.

  "Trust me, we know," Empusa said with distaste, holding up his hands to display the missing flesh on his wrists; the place where he'd been burned by the silver chains. A quick glance at William showed he had the same injuries.

  "Silver is a precious metal," she went on, ignoring the gory wounds. "Which means it's not exactly easy to come by. Why don't we take all the silver in this building with us?"

  "To what end?" Paoli wanted to know.

  Lyric tried to push herself to her feet, but found she didn't have the strength. She settled, instead, for simply sitting up straighter. "For starters, I need more bullets. But more importantly, we can melt all this silver down and use Lycaon's own tactics against him."

  When everyone continued to look at her with blank expressions, she made a sound of impatience. "Let's turn his own silver into something designed to hold him."

  With that, the conversation took off in a different direction, with everyone naming people who might be able to fashion something that could hold Lycaon indefinitely. Finally, a name was given that made everyone fall silent in contemplation.

  "Do you think it's possible for him to forge it?" Empusa asked. "There's no one better, but do you think he'd do it?

  "There's only one way to find out," William said.

  It was decided that someone named Goibniu was the only one qualified to make what they needed, and that Jonathon would have the job of travelling to Ireland to seek him out. Michael looked slightly disgruntled that he hadn't been given the task, but he didn't voice any complaints aloud.

  "We need to get out of here," William said at last. "We all have wounded that need tending and we don't want to risk being here, in case Lycaon sends another round of wolves after us. Sekhmet, can the committee dispatch a team to purge this place?"

  "I'm on it," Sekhmet answered, pulling his phone from his pocket as he left the room.

  William's attention turned to Jonathon and Michael. "There are no words to thank you enough for your help tonight. Can we meet up tomorrow to discuss the plan in detail?"

  Chapter Forty Four

  "The committee has ordered we return to the Coven to discuss recent events," Sekhmet announced, striding back into the room just as Empusa was being readied for transport.

  William and Jonathon both stopped what they were doing and stared at him. Paoli's eyes automatically turned to Lyric with a look of concern before he schooled his features and turned his attention to Sekhmet. "Why?" he demanded sharply.

  Sekhmet gave him a sarcastic look and gestured around. "Seriously?" he said pointedly. "They want to know what's happening here."

  "They want to fly us all the way to the Coven for a progress report?" Emily said in disbelief. "We just left there two weeks ago." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What did you say to them?"

  Sekhmet gave her an offended look. "Nothing," he insisted. "I just told them we needed a crew to clean up this school. They already knew about the conflict at Jonathon's den and they want to have a meeting."

  William and Paoli exchanged a look that set off alarm bells in Lyric's head, which brought another wave of dizziness. "What is it?" she asked apprehensively.

  "It's a long story," Paoli said. "And this isn't the place to get into it."

  "When do they expect us to fly out?" William asked Sekhmet. "If they want to see the whole pack, they'll have to wait for Empusa's leg to heal. He's in no state to travel right now."

  Sekhmet looked uncomfortable. "They want to see all of us," he said, looking at Jonathon and Michael.

  His meaning took a second to register. Then, Jonathon's eyes widened in surprise. "Why would the committee want to see me?" he asked.

  "I've never been to the Coven," Michael said.

  Sekhmet shrugged. "All I know is they said we all need to go. They're having a plane land in two days at a private airport outside of New Orleans. So Empusa, you'd better heal quick."

  Paoli let out a string of curses and paced the length of the room until he had himself under better control. He turned and looked at William. "Is there any way we could leave Lyric behind?"

  "If they know about Jonathon's pack and their involvement, you can bet they already know Lyric's with us. We can't afford to try hiding something like that from them," William said. "They aren't as bad as the Coven heads, but I don't want to risk them finding out we're withholding something that significant. Our pact is too new to make them question us."

  Paoli's gaze fell on Lyric again. "But she's already so weak," he protested. "And human. I don't think she'll be up to making the flight in only two days."

  "You do know I'm sitting right here, right?" Lyric said in what was meant to be
a demanding tone, but came out closer to a rasp because her tongue seemed to stuck to the roof of her mouth. If she could trust her legs, she'd get up and kick them both for yet again discussing her like she wasn't present. Instead, she settled for a glower in their direction since she couldn't seem to focus her eyes on them anymore. In fact, they seemed to be swimming together in her vision.

  "Damn!" she heard Paoli exclaim just before she lost consciousness.

  When she was aware of anything again, it was the light filtering in through the window of an unfamiliar room. She blinked in confusion, squinting at the single ray. Where was she? A glance around showed her to be alone in a small, utilitarian room. The only furniture was the bed and a small table beside it, which had a large glass of orange juice and a chocolate chip cookie sitting right beside her gun.

  She sat up slowly, holding her breath to see if the dizziness would return. When it didn't, she slid to her feet and glanced down to find she was still wearing the same clothes from last night. At least, she thought it was last night. Grimacing at her bedraggled appearance, she stuffed her gun into her jeans and headed for the door, determined to find out where she was and how she'd gotten there.

  One of Jonathon's men was standing in the hallway, obviously set to watch her. She recognized the hall as being the same one she'd glimpsed when they'd come to have discussion with the wolves. For some reason, she was at their den.

  "Good afternoon," she greeted the guard warily, not entirely sure if his job was to ensure her safety or to ensure she stayed put.