by L. L. Raand
“Expedient.”
Sylvan laughed.
“I spoke to the Revniks. Niki’s blood is clear. The contagion is fractured, degraded in some way. Eventually it will break down completely and disappear from her system.”
“What does that mean? Do we have a cure for what infected those humans?”
“Possibly. The working theory is that the mate bite from Sophia transferred some form of immunity to Niki.” Drake clasped Sylvan’s leg and kept it there while she drove. “What Sophia and I have in our serum could be the makings of a vaccine.”
Sylvan grumbled. “More experiments.”
Drake smiled. “Yes. And, Sylvan, we need to test our young again. There’s a good chance they’re naturally immune to the contagion.”
“Will it hurt them?”
“No more than when you bite them to remind them you’re their Alpha.”
“That’s different.”
“They’ll be fine. I’ll see to that.”
“All right. Whatever the Revniks need.” Sylvan sighed. “Resistance to Were fever or at least protection against the manufactured variety will protect every wolf Were in the world. At least we will have defeated one of our enemies.”
“You’re tired and you’re hurt.” Sylvan started to protest and Drake cut her off. “No one knows that but me. Let me fight this battle—it’s what I know how to do best. We will win this and all our battles.”
Sylvan closed her eyes and gripped Drake’s hand. “You make me hope.”
“Believe me.”
“Always.”
Ten minutes later Drake pulled up in front of their cabin. Jace and Jonathan had followed at a distance and parked in the woods a hundred yards away. She’d long given up trying to prevent the centuri from standing guard wherever Sylvan was. Now that their borders had been breached, she wouldn’t complain. Sylvan had always been a target, and probably always would be. She was grateful for the loyalty of the centuri and all those who guarded Sylvan’s well-being. When their young began to run with the Pack, the Pack members would extend the same loyalty and protection to them. She was in debt to those who kept her family safe, now more than ever.
“In the shower,” Drake said, leaping onto the porch. Sylvan followed and they stripped off their clothes together and stepped under the warm water.
“Face the wall.”
Miraculously, Sylvan complied without argument. Drake lathered her back and carefully washed the burns, removing debris and dead flesh until raw bleeding tissue was all that remained. Sylvan made no move or sound while she worked. In some areas the muscle was exposed. Sylvan had to have been in pain, but she would have ignored it and probably gone out to hunt without even bothering to take time to heal. Drake kissed the back of her neck. “I’ll fix you something to eat and then you should shift. This will heal once you do.”
Sylvan turned, gripped Drake’s hips, and spun her around until her back was to the wall and Sylvan’s was under the warm water. She grazed Drake’s neck with her canines and settled her hips between Drake’s thighs. “I’ll eat and I’ll shift when I’ve had you.”
Drake would have argued if she didn’t need Sylvan so much. They’d been separated for what had felt like days in Earth time, had fought their way free of Faerie, and now faced enemies on every front. She needed Sylvan’s touch, needed her body, more than she needed her heart to beat. Sylvan was her strength, her heart, her soul. She opened to her, readied for her. “You should be too weak for this.”
Sylvan laughed and pressed her mouth to the mate bite on Drake’s shoulder. “You underestimate me, Prima.”
Drake gasped as need lanced through her. “Never.”
She gripped Sylvan’s ass, let her claws puncture skin, and wrapped her legs around Sylvan’s hips. Her clitoris, full and hard, pressed into Sylvan’s lower abdomen and she felt Sylvan slide into her cleft. She groaned. “Always so good.”
Sylvan pinned Drake to the cool tile walls with the weight of her body and arched her back, driving into her. She grazed her canines over and into the mate bite, and Drake cried out. They clung together, rode each other hard, and spent at the same time, emptying with the force of long-awaited pleasure.
Sylvan leaned against her, panting. “The next time you decide to go through a Faerie Gate, make sure you know how to get back.”
Drake laughed softly and kissed her. “I don’t think I’ll be returning to Faerie anytime soon.”
“I am nothing without you.” Sylvan leaned her forehead on Drake’s shoulder and shivered.
Drake slid her hands into Sylvan’s hair, raised her head, and kissed her again. “You are everything to all of us. And you are mine. I will not leave you.”
“I need your counsel, and your strength. I cannot lead the Pack alone.”
“You could, if you needed to, but you won’t. And do not doubt your decisions. You know what must be done, and we know it too.”
“Death is coming—for our enemies, perhaps for our friends. I don’t want my wolves to die.”
“We’ll do everything we can to protect our Pack and our allies. As to our enemies…” Drake snarled softly. “We have been more than generous until now. It is time for us to strike back.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Torren’s eyes flickered open. The room was dim and warm, the air silent and empty. She reached out for the magic, found it in the distance where it had lain long buried under millennia of disbelief, dissension, and corruption. The tendrils whispered past her senses, wary and distrustful. A kiss so fleeting it could have been a wish. Heaviness settled in her chest. Earthside was a tomb for the Fae, a half-life where remembrance of beauty was an ever-present pain. She turned her head and met Misha’s gaze. “How are you?”
Misha’s eyes filled for an instant and she blinked hard. “Not bad.” She brushed the hair from Torren’s forehead. “How are you?”
“Hungry.”
“Your neck…is there pain?”
Torren smiled. “No.”
“I have some food here.” Misha gestured to a tray laden with things she wouldn’t consider food enough to sustain a shift in a wounded Were, but that she knew Torren liked. A loaf of grain bread, roasted turnips and potatoes and other things they grew in the gardens carved out of the forest at the edge of the Compound. Fruits from the cold storage cellars. Cheese from their larder. “And warm cider. I could bring juice but I thought—”
Torren grasped her hand. “This is exactly what I need.” She pushed up to a sitting position and leaned her back against the rough wall of the barracks. “Thank you.”
“I could get you meat?”
“I’ll leave that for the wolves.” She ate vigorously and silently for a few moments, watching Misha watch her. Misha watched her like she might watch prey—with utter stillness, barely breathing, only her dark eyes moving, following each sweep of her arm, each swallow. Dark intense eyes, wounded eyes. “I’m all right.”
“I thought you were going to die.”
Torren set the tray aside and held out her hand. Misha took it and Torren pulled her onto the bed and tucked her against her side. She kissed her forehead and then her mouth. “I knew you were there the entire time. I felt you reaching for me, holding me, keeping me from drifting away. I took your strength, depended on it.”
Misha wrapped her arms tightly around Torren’s waist, buried her face against her chest. “You were so far away. If I lost you, everything inside me would end. I would live, but I would be empty.”
Torren stroked her hair. No one had ever said such words to her before. There were no endings in Faerie, only a transition when the spirit yielded to the magic and left the physical plane. When the heart is never given, it cannot be lost. “The Fae are not easy to kill.”
“The Fae do not fight with honor.” Misha leaned back, her eyes glowing with fury. “Your Queen tried to kill our Alpha when she came unarmed and in peace.”
“Not everyone in the universe has the same beliefs. Honor to us is a
strange concept. We follow the magic and the power.”
“But you love me.”
“I do.”
“There is honor in love.”
Torren sighed. “I should not have brought you through the Gate. I put you and the others at risk. But when you called me, I could not resist.”
Misha bristled. “Did you think to leave me behind forever?”
“You have seen Faerie. That is not a world for a wolf.”
“We will find a way. I will not let you forget me.”
Torren sighed and kissed her. “The world to you is like the world your wolf sees, black and white and clear. Simple and orderly. Honor and loyalty guide your actions. But we are different.”
“What guides you, then?”
“Survival.”
“We fight to survive too.” Misha stroked Torren’s chest. “And there we are the same. Only our weapons are different.”
“You are very stubborn.” Torren rubbed her cheek on Misha’s hair. Her scent carried the magic of forest and stream, earth and sky. She closed her eyes and the darkness receded.
“What will happen now?” Misha asked softly. “Will you stay here?”
“I’m afraid I will not be welcome in Faerie as long as Cecilia rules, which may be a very long time.”
“What will happen to you? If you can’t…go home?”
“My powers will not be full Earthside,” Torren said, her eyes darkening. “I can call my Hound, I can call the hawk, I can reach my magic through your earth. But I will not be as I am in Faerie.”
“I’m sorry. If you must go back, I will go with you. We will find Cecilia together and kill her.”
“You would risk that for me?”
Misha’s brows drew down. “Of course. You are my mate. Where you go, I go. What you need, I need.”
Torren sighed. “In all the long cycles of my life, I have never been touched as you touch me. I don’t understand it, but I do not question it.”
“You will never need to.” Misha touched the bandages on Torren’s neck. “I know you’re weak. I know you hurt. You need to shift again, to heal all the way.”
“I will sleep awhile and then shift.” Torren hesitated, unused to the need for another’s touch. “Will you sleep with me?”
“Of course. Always.”
Misha sat up and stripped off her clothes until she was naked like Torren. She lay down and pressed her flesh to Torren’s, tucked her head beneath Torren’s chin where she could feel the breath and blood and heat of her body. She let her wolf rise until their spirits touched. “My life is your life. My future your future. We will go back when it’s time, together.”
Torren pressed her palm over Misha’s heart. Misha’s wolf rumbled a greeting to her Hound. Her hawk took flight with a wild cry. Here was the magic. “Then I will make this my home.”
“Do not call my wolf just yet,” Misha whispered, entwining her legs with Torren’s. Her wolf’s steady rumble grew stronger and want arched through her. “You are not strong enough yet, and after a battle my wolf wants her mate.”
Torren laughed. “Misha, my wolf, I am a royal Fae. At my weakest, I am strong enough for my mate.”
Misha leaned up on an elbow. Her pelt line flared down her abdomen at the invitation in Torren’s gaze. “Your arrogance has not been tempered by your wounds.” She kissed her slowly. “I prefer to have you at full strength. Then perhaps you can handle me.”
Torren slipped her fingers into Misha’s hair and lifted her head to kiss her. “I love you, Misha of the Timberwolf Pack. There is a ritual you wolves perform to seal your mating. I can’t give you that.”
Misha nipped at Torren’s lower lip. “We call it a mate bite, and mate bonding. It’s a mark that shows we belong to each other.” She slid her leg over Torren’s hip and pressed against her, her essence warm and slick against Torren’s skin. “We share our essences, our bodies merge, and we join.”
“With me, you will always be incomplete.”
“Oh no.” Misha drew back, scowled. “You are not a Were?”
Torren frowned. “I thought you’d noticed that.”
Misha laughed and kissed her. “Then do not think to act like one. I do not want a Were. I want you, Torren de Brinna of the Fae.”
“And what of your wolf? Will she not be disappointed?”
Misha grew serious. “Never. When you and I tangled the first time, we joined more than our essences, more than our flesh. I felt the wings of your hawk beneath my heart, felt the Hound run with my wolf, mind to mind. We are already mated, bonded, spirit to spirit.” She drew Torren’s hand between her thighs and pressed her fingers to the tense glands on either side of her full clitoris. She gasped at the arrow of need and desire. “You call my body and my heart and my spirit. I am yours.”
Torren kissed her and gently massaged the hot, full flesh beneath her fingers. “Let me have this now. And when I wake, I will want more.”
Misha trembled, the fear that had held her captive for hours transforming to joy. “There will always be more.”
Torren pressed Misha’s mouth to her breast. “Then let your wolf take what is hers.”
“Yes, now and forever.”
Misha’s canines erupted and when she slid them into Torren’s chest, the magic flowed.
*
Drake woke beside a great silver wolf, her face buried in its ruff. She sighed and stroked Sylvan’s back. An ear flickered, and she felt her stir. It’s time.
The wolf pressed close, and with barely a shudder, Sylvan shed pelt. Drake ran her hands over the flawless skin and the long, hard muscles beneath. For an instant, all that mattered in her world was beside her, and she knew peace. She rested her head on Sylvan’s chest, listening to the beat of her heart. “How do you feel?”
Sylvan stretched, gave a supremely satisfied growl. She caressed Drake’s ass. “Strong. Ready.”
Drake laughed. “Then all is well.”
“We have a few minutes. I want to stop and see the young before I leave.”
“About this strike…” Drake caressed Sylvan’s stomach, tracing the ridges between her abdominals with her fingertips. Power flooded from her, stirring Drake’s wolf. The centuri would ready to the call. Every warrior in the Pack would go on alert. There was no turning back.
Sylvan kissed her. “What?”
“Andrea’s right. This could all be a ploy to draw you out. Ambush you.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you going?” Drake knew better than to try to dissuade her from protecting the Pack. Sylvan was ruled by her wolf more than any other Were, her primal nature most untamed, her instincts the purest. And the wildest. But Drake was Sylvan’s mate and Prima to the Pack. She was bound by blood and love to protect Sylvan. Even from herself.
“Because the Blackpaws invaded Pack land, attacked my wolves, injured some. Because this is my territory.”
“Is it really that simple?”
Sylvan sat up and shifted Drake into her lap. She looked down at her, at her deep dark questioning eyes. “It is not simple at all. To outsiders, our laws seem rigid and harsh. But they do not know who we are, how we live, what fury and power drives our wolves. We are predators at the core.”
“More than just that,” Drake whispered. “Love and loyalty drive you too.”
“Yes, we are more than wolves, and that’s why a Pack needs a strong Alpha. Our wolves live to hunt and bear young and run free. But we are not wolves, we are Were, and some of us hunger for things our wolves do not understand—power and influence that do not come to us naturally. The Alpha is a peacekeeper—”
Drake laughed and raked her blunt claws down Sylvan’s hip. “That is not a word I would use to describe you.”
Sylvan grinned and growled softly. “Sometimes peace requires us to fight for it. My wolf protects what makes us wolves and defends against what would prevent us from living in harmony.”
“What will you do when you find the renegades?”
; “If they do not resist, we will bring them back and find out who they are and why they attempted such a foolish attack.”
“And if they resist?”
“I would much rather bring them all into the Pack, but if they will not live with us, as we must live, and accept my rule, then they must leave our territories or die.”
“You know they won’t leave. They’ve already made the choice to live as rogues.”
“I know.” Sylvan sighed.
Drake pressed her mouth to Sylvan’s abdomen. Sylvan would suffer if she was forced to execute Weres. Every Were in the Pack would feel the loss. “If Andrea’s right and you run into a larger force, will you retreat?”
“My centuri are the finest fighters in the world. One is worth a dozen. We will fight as wolves. We will be fine.”
“I want you to remember something while you’re out there.”
Sylvan snarled, pelt shimmering close to the skin as her wolf surged. “Do you think I need a reminder that you and my young and the Pack need me?”
Drake bit Sylvan’s stomach, leaving a mark where her canines punctured. Sylvan tensed and rumbled, the pain an invitation more than a protest. Drake smiled against her skin. “Are you listening?”
“Do I have a choice?” Sylvan sighed. “What do you need from me, mate?”
“I do not need to remind you of what you were born knowing,” Drake said. “What I need you to remember is that you are the power that maintains order throughout the Packs, not just ours, but all of them. If you must maintain order by force to keep all of us safe, then do not hesitate. Kill if you must.”
“I will do my duty.”
“Yes,” Drake whispered. “And then come back to me.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Tamara looked over her shoulder, growling softly, as the door behind her opened. Sophia stepped into the light, the brightness behind her casting her face in shadow.
“You should get something to eat,” Sophia said.
Tamara stroked Gray’s arm. She hadn’t left her bedside all morning, ever since the Prima had said Gray would be all right after a shift, and they’d moved Gray to a room in the barracks until she woke. She wanted to believe the Prima, wanted to believe this Pack was different, but those in power had lied to her before. Gray still slept—at least, she hoped it was sleep and that she was healing inside. “Not yet. She might wake up. She’ll need help getting food then.”
