Bad Blood (Book 4 of The Warden series) (27 page)

Ethan wasn’t sure if he intended to truly kill him or simply knock him out. Either way it would give them enough time to grab Lynnius and run before he could call in the cavalry. Not that it mattered. Their scent was marked. Even if they chose to give up the baby, this was not over. The crime was committed. They would all pay for it with time in prison.

Ethan grabbed his wrists and pushed him back. Though Callin clearly had the upper hand, and the body weight, he did pry them off. Callin’s hard fingernails left gouges in his neck that would need attention later, but at least he could breathe.

Callin clearly didn’t like that Ethan’s strength was comparable. He no doubt presumed that Ethan was a cocky hunter, looking to get his merit badge in hand-to-hand combat. Little did he know, Ethan was the poster child for dragon protein and he was only appeasing his ego by getting in the fight he never got to have.

Callin grit his teeth and leaned forward to push more of his body weight into his strangulation reach. Ethan knew that was too much to counter. As Callin’s hands moved closer to Ethan’s neck, so did his face.

The civil edifying host was gone, replaced by the animal within. His eyes reflected the vacant determination of a simple task: kill. This fight was not personal to Callin no matter what his composure was during the fight. He had feral instinct, without pride or personal gain, lording over his emotions. He was one mind and one task. It was Zen, just the opposite spectrum of its traditional form.

Ethan waited for his head to be in range and decided to challenge his lesser-known skill. He wasn’t sure
not
passing out could be viewed as a beneficial talent when his migraine kicked in later, but for now it might save his life. He rammed his head into Callin’s face. When he didn’t recede, he did it again, and again. Finally, Callin backed off, but only to recover enough to throw Ethan from the floor to the adjacent wall.

Ethan met the wall with the same joyous expulsion of air as he did on the floor. He could see Callin was still shaking off the impact to his face. That had gotten to him. There was no pride lost in a man-taking pause from a triple head butt. The fact that he was still standing was enough of an accomplishment.

Ethan slid up the wall to stand. He was certain that the wall was the only thing holding him up. This was far from the worst injuries he had received, but it was not the end of the battle. Even now, he could see Callin turning around to examine him with predatory hesitation. He would stand there and catch his breath while he waited for Ethan to run like a scared rabbit.

This was why Ethan couldn’t win. His strength was a match or at least in the ballpark. His speed and agility were attuned enough to keep his head from getting ripped off. Endurance was the issue. A bear will eventually tire of the game and retreat. A mountain lion doesn’t waste its energy on prey that actually fights back.

But a dog.

Man’s best friend was bestowed that exalted title because of his relentless bravery in the face of insurmountable odds. What dog would not throw themselves between their master and his attacker? What dog would not lay down his life to protect the one he loved?

Callin stepped forward. Not an attack, but an attempt to make Ethan flinch. He was trying to flush his prey from the bush. Ethan waved his hand. “Enough,” he said and tried to push off the wall.

He could see disappointment on Callin’s face as he realized the battle had not come to a climatic ending. Regrettable as it was to disappoint him, Ethan knew that the climatic ending would only be him bathed in blood, or lame from a broken bone. This fight was something his ego needed, but he certainly didn’t need to take it to the bitter end. He was indeed capable of fighting a werewolf to the death.

His death.

“That’s it?” Callin said keeping his defenses high in case this was a tactical trick. “You were doing so well. I’ve never fought a human so long.”

Ethan smiled. “I’m glad I could give you a respectable fight, but we both know that you could outlast me, so let’s just call this what it was: a good effort.” Ethan put out his hand to shake.

Callin examined his hand, as if questioning his honesty with the gesture. He slapped his palm into it for a strong gripped handshake. “It was a great effort. Seriously, I’ve put men down with one punch before. You’re right that I would eventually have beaten you. If I were wounded though, you might have had a real chance.”

“Thank you.” Ethan glanced over to Leona and withdrew his hand. “You know I can only offer you my deepest sympathy in regard to your son.” Callin looked back at Leona and his baby boy in her arms. “I can’t justify taking him from you, but I also can’t condone you taking him from her.”

“It’s a slippery slope I know, but I understand what your obligations are. I don’t begrudge you your duty. That’s why you are still breathing. There won’t be any need for that whistle. You don’t need your backup. I won’t stop you from accomplishing your goal. I don’t want to upset Lynnius, but you should know that as soon as you’re gone, I will simply track him down again and take him again.”

“Yes, I imagined as much.” Ethan pinched his lips, wishing he could just take the baby and go. Ethan pulled the whistle from his shirt and examined it. Callin tipped his brow like he figured Ethan was being overly cautious. “If only my part in this were that simple. I’m not a hunter, Callin. I’m the warden.” Ethan blew the whistle.

47

The whistle, of course, made no sound. The triumphant attack of armed guards bursting through the doors would have been an exciting and dramatic culmination to the conversation, but that wasn’t what happened either.

The lack of zenith to the situation didn’t stop Callin’s eyes from widening and backing away from Ethan like he had just been given the status of Judas in his mind. Ethan shrugged apologetically. Much as Callin had been chagrin to admit his superiority in a physical challenge; Ethan was remorseful that he was going to win this battle after all.

Had Callin suspected that Ethan was from the prison there would not have been a fight. With four werewolves, he was nothing more than a chew toy. Lynnius would have been stripped from his mother’s arms again, and perhaps this time for good, if the men knew who was coming for them.

“Leona, keep still and keep him safe,” Callin yelled to her just before the lights went out.

Ethan had never witnessed the collectors at work. He wasn’t actually witnessing it now, but the wafted breezes that whipped past him hinted at the speed of their work. He could hear growling and snarling, but he wasn’t entirely sure who it was, werewolf or collector.

The smell of fowl breath and sweat entered his nostrils. He could feel one of them right beside him. It sniffed him carefully, trying to decide if he was friend or foe. He most likely smelled like Callin from the fight.

Concerned that the creature would take him as well, he took a lesson from Nevia and plucked at his sweaty black shirt. The smell of his impromptu workout puffed up against his neck. The creature, and as it happened, creatures because he only notice the other one when it growled in his ear at his subtle movement, took in a big whiff of him.

The stink of breath was gone as fast as it had arrived. Ethan stopped hearing the sound of struggling bodies. He heard a screen door open and shut, but that was it. A few blocks away the collectors would load the werewolves into the truck they came in on with ninja stealth. Ethan didn’t imagine they could drive, but he was sure some well-paid driver had been designated to the duty of driving the creatures and their catches to the train. From truck to train, and back to truck they would arrive tomorrow evening to be delivered to Danato, sans giftwrap.

Ethan felt bad about incarcerating a man who simply wanted to be with his son, but it wasn’t his place to make decisions for the Council of the Moon. He only had one side of the story, and Callin was far from the norm in the werewolf population. If Randall was the one fighting for his child, Ethan didn’t think he would have quite so much sympathy.

“Leona?” Ethan called into the dark. He hadn’t anticipated that the collectors would even think to take a fem-wolf, but when he didn’t hear any movement, he got concerned.

“I’m here,” she said from across the room. She hadn’t moved from her position and smartly so. Running while collectors were present was essentially volunteering to have your body slammed into the floor. Ethan hadn’t been smart enough to avoid that with Callin, but he was smart enough with the collectors.

“Is the baby okay?” He asked.

“Yes, Lynnius is just fine.” He could hear the contentment in her voice. Her baby was safe, she was safe. “How are you?” Her voice chimed with concern that surprised him.

“Ah…” He wasn’t sure how to answer. A report of his injuries or just the standard I’m alive and breathing ergo, fine.

“I can smell your blood.”

“Oh, right.” He drew in a breath and mentally tracked his pain. “My neck probably needs a turtleneck bandage, and my left eye is the size of a baseball, but just bruising after that. The only thing that really hurts is my head, but that’s what you get when you try to head butt your opponent into submission.” He chuckled, but she didn’t join in.

“I noticed a candle on the kitchen table. The stove is gas. Why don’t you get us some light, and I’ll get you fixed up. I’d hate to send you back to Cori in such bad shape. She may never let you leave again.”

“Right.” He didn’t mention that she barely let him leave this time because it would have made Cori sound weak. Despite what Leona pretended to feel for Cori, or how she flaunted her sexuality before her, Ethan could tell that she respected Cori. Just as Callin had to respect him for putting up a good fight, Leona respected Cori for not taking “no” for an answer. Granted it still pissed her off, but the one emotion didn’t preclude the other.

48

Ethan returned to the living room with his wide column candle in hand. It gave him pause to wonder why werewolves that spent their evenings eating pizza and beer might have a scented candle, but he couldn’t deride a man that didn’t want his house to smell like old pepperoni.

He found the couch and coffee table that had been shoved against the wall opposite Leona’s chair. He pulled the table out and set the candle on it before falling into the couch. Despite the half ass, thrown together decorum the couch was very comfortable, and didn’t appear to be cheaply made.

“Do you need…” Ethan paused, catching sight of Leona breast-feeding Lynnius. The image albeit perfectly natural threw his train of thought off. The candlelight shimmering against her bare breast was alluring to the eyes, but the baby suckling her made it so damned wrong to look at. The product of sexuality was a surprisingly strong turn off. “Guess not,” he said in answer to his own intended question about feeding the baby. “Can you breast-feed while pregnant?” he asked suddenly confused by the image.

“No, I’m not producing milk yet, but he falls asleep so well this way.” She smiled looking at her baby. “I confess I love the connection as well. You don’t mind do you?” She said looking at him with concern.

“Of course not,” he answered quickly, so he didn’t sound like a jerk. “Bond all you like.”
“You had me worried for a bit there,” she said with a sweet voice that was only intended for Lynnius. “I thought you might have agreed with Callin.”

Ethan huffed out an exhale and scratched his head. “I think Callin is a good man. I think he has some grandiose ideals, but I think he genuinely loves Lynnius…and you.” She glared at him for that statement. “Hey, I don’t know the guy, but any man that offers to make you queen and be at your beck and call, must be in love.”

She thought about that for a moment and smiled again. “Would you mind taking Lynnius upstairs to his crib? I’ll gather some supplies for the first aid. I see well enough in the dark for that.”

They both stood and met in the middle of the room. She handed Lynnius off to him without any attempt to conceal her breast when the baby slipped unhappily away. “Do you want the candle, or can you find your way.

“I’ll find my way.” Ethan focused on the baby so his eyes didn’t wonder beyond marital vows of honor.

He took the baby upstairs, but he paused before placing him in the crib. He took a moment to feel the weight of the child in his arms. He had never really held a baby before. His life of small time crime had never involved women, let alone babies. He hadn’t really thought about babies and he hadn’t ever discussed it with Cori. He wondered if she would want one, or two.

The image of a miniature little Cori with wavy blond hair and a face burning red from a childish fit, didn’t scare him. It amused him. A little Cori that looked at him with the adoration that Cori reserved for Danato. Yes, that appealed to him a great deal.

Ethan shook himself from his revelry and made a mental note to ask Cori what she thought of children. He hoped she wasn’t against it. Granted they lived in the most dangerous place on earth, but what was life without complications?

Ethan tromped down the stairs and found Leona, thankfully fully covered, slipping the plastic seal off of a bottle of peroxide. He cringed at the sting that it was going to cause. He sat down on the couch beside her and frowned at the toothbrush she was dipping into the peroxide. “He’s asleep. What the hell are you going to do with that?”