Bloodright (10 page)

Falon looked down at her bloodstained hands, then back to Lucien, wanting to apologize for shredding him to ribbons but unable to utter the words because she really wasn’t sorry.

His lips quirked before he strode past her into the huge bathroom she had taken a peek at earlier and shut the door behind him.

As one door shut, another opened. Falon started as Talia walked into the bedroom lugging a thick black duffel bag behind her.

“It’s called knocking,” Falon said.

Talia’s cheeks pinkened. “Sorry, I—”

Falon waved her off. “No big deal, but when you’re sitting around half naked it’s nice to have a little warning.”

Talia smiled and lifted the bag that was almost as big as she was. “This is going to change all of that.”

Falon helped her lift the bag onto the high bed. Talia unzipped the cumbersome thing and smiled looking up at Falon. “Your new wardrobe.”

“But Lucien said no clothes.” As if that had stopped her.

“Amazingly, he changed his mind,” Talia said, digging into the bag and pulling out a handful of clothing.

As she set them on the bed, Falon dug out several pair of designer jeans. “You say that like it doesn’t happen often.”

“Trust me, it doesn’t.”

Talia reached in and pulled out half a dozen lacy thong panties, several microscopic tops, more pants, and a pair of UGGs. As she set them out on the bed, Falon pulled out a pair of pink suede cowboy boots, several concho-type leather belts, a black leather vest, a doeskin vest, several fitted long-sleeved shirts, and two cute little dresses. All of the colors rich gem tones. Every one of the blues matched her eyes.

She stood back from the bounty and put her hands on her hips. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised there are no bras or pajamas. Everything here screams sex.” Even if it was tasteful, each article of clothing was sensual in fabric, color, and design. Classic Lucien.

“I guess the betas forgot.”

“Lucien didn’t buy these?”

“He paid for them, but the betas did the shopping.”

Falon set aside a pair of sleek black jeans and a black-leather, sapphire-satin-lined vest. “Really? I’d think they would have shopped at Walmart in the burlap sack section, not at Victoria’s Secret.”

“I’m sure Lucien told them what he wanted.”

Falon moved a stack of clothing and sat on the edge of the bed and stared at Talia. “Why did he change his mind?”

The Lycan healer looked down at the cache of clothing and shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him that.” Talia strode to the door and stopped. “Falon, what are you going to do?”

She shrugged.

“Mondragon is a powerful pack. Lucien is a strong leader. They both need you.”

“Lucien needs a kick in the ass.”

“That, too. But—” Talia’s violet eyes implored her. “For the sake of Mondragon, it is imperative you stand united with Lucien. If you don’t, the pack will lose their confidence in him as alpha, and that cannot happen under any circumstance.”

“Where is your loyalty to Rafael?”

“My loyalty is to the Lycan nation first, Lucien and Rafael second.”

“If I leave here, Lucien cannot force me to stay away from Rafa.”

“You are wrong, because until he releases you completely, you belong to him. He will never release you if he thinks you will return to Rafa.”

“Then I am still a prisoner, am I not?”

“Choose to stay and your prison will be a happier place.” She opened the door and said over her shoulder, “Dinner is about to be served. Come down as soon as you’re dressed.”

“I need to wash Lucien off me first,” Falon yelled at the closed door.

Grabbing the clothes she wanted to wear, Falon yanked open the bathroom door and strode in. She stopped half a step in. Lucien stood with his back to her under one of the two showerheads in the walk-in shower stall. No door for privacy. Not that she minded the sight. He was something to behold.

The muscles in his back rippled beneath the red-and-black tattoo. It was unusual in that it was a hybrid of a wolf and a dragon. The main body of a wolf wrapped around his torso with a howling dragon-head up his shoulder and the fire-breathing snout halfway around his neck. Lucien raised his arms above his shoulders and rubbed shampoo into his thick black hair. When wet, his hair reached just past his wide shoulders. Falon swallowed as her gaze swept down the corded muscles of his back to his tight ass. His legs were long, straight, and muscled. As her gaze rose, he turned. She gasped. He was erect, and she swallowed again. The tail of the wolf had a dragon spear-tip tail. The wolf head wrapped around his neck but the dragon tail wrapped around his narrow waist to his belly and straight down to his—She’d never seen a tattoo on a man’s private parts or a cock piercing. Heat rose in her cheeks. When he was inside of her, that metal ball on the underside of his shaft that protruded just to the edge of his cock head had stimulated her to crazy. Maybe that was why she had come so hard and so fast…

Her gaze traveled up from his arrogant erection to his taut belly to his wide, defined chest. Soapy suds slid lazily down the hard, defined planes to his belly, sluicing around his erection in slow, foamy waves. His hand slid down his chest to the root of his penis. Lucien grabbed himself and slowly stroked his erection until it turned angry and red.

Look at me,
he commanded.

Falon’s chest rose and fell in quick harsh puffs. She shook her head, afraid he would mesmerize her with his eyes and make her do something her heart did not want her to do.

Chicken.

Refusing to be sucked in by him, Falon set her clothing on the long slate vanity, then stripped his clothes from her body. She turned toward Lucien, who stood unmoving in the middle of the large stall, watching her. She would prove to them both that she could resist his carnal call.

Chin high, she stepped into the shower. She heard his hiss of breath as she stepped past him, her thigh brushing against his. Falon steeled herself. The contact was like an electrical shock. Turning her back on him, she stood beneath the other showerhead and drenched herself. She reached past Lucien, who had not moved, and grabbed the shampoo from the slate inset. Her left breast brushed against his chest.

“Play with fire, Falon, and you will go up in flames,” he warned.

She smiled, liking the control she had over him. She pushed the envelope more. Turning around, she faced him, catching and holding his hot gaze. Lifting her hands, she squeezed the shampoo onto her head. Back arched she closed her eyes, dug her fingers into her scalp, and scrubbed.

Furnace-grade heat radiated off Lucien. She felt his desire, his want, his battle not to press her against the shower wall and take her. Then visualized him doing just that. She tried to think of Rafael, but she could not quite conjure his image. Not with his brother so close.

Lucien snarled beside her. Her eyes flew open.

Eyes blazing furiously, he moved within inches of her. Falon stepped back, he stepped forward until her back hit the wall.

Whatever it was between them was strong. Because despite her love for Rafael, and her powers, powers she would not hesitate to use, she felt every bit the submissive female to Lucien’s dominant male.

“You cannot will me to want you,” she said, pressing her palms against the slate wall behind her.

Lucien put his hands on either side of her head and leaned into her until she felt the throb of his body heat. “I don’t have to.”

“You swore you would not touch me—”

“I swear a lot of things.” He stepped back from her, then rinsed off. He strode from the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack and said over his shoulder, “I’m hungry; hurry up so we can eat.”

The dining area just off the common room was comprised of two long, heavy, wooden, granite-topped tables. The aromas wafting from the covered dishes lining the middle of both were mouthwatering. Lucien led her to the larger of the two tables where there were two large chairs seated next to each other at the head of the table. He pulled out one of the chairs and sat her, then took his place beside her.

As soon as Lucien sat, two women heaped their plates with rare roast beef, roasted chicken, and savory lamb chops. Bowls of stir-fried vegetables and mounds of steaming pastas were set down around their laden plates.

She looked to Lucien, who cut his meat. “This is too much food, Lucien.”

“Eat all that you can, Falon, you’re too thin.”

That she could not argue with. She had not had a period for almost two years, and knew it was because her body fat was nonexistent. She had just started to put a little weight on with regular meals when all hell broke lose. With sudden realization, Falon realized she was famished. She dug in. Halfway through her plate, Falon looked up to find the eyes of the entire pack on her. Not one of them ate. In fact, not one of them had food on their plate.

She set her fork down and looked at Lucien. “Why don’t they eat?”

“It is customary they wait until the alpha has had his fill.”

Flabbergasted, Falon laughed. “Are you serious?”

Lucien scowled. “It is our way.”

She shook her head and sat back. “That’s ridiculous. A pack is a family, as a family, the pack should eat together.” She did not say that Vulkasin did not adhere to such archaic rules.

Do not undermine my authority, Falon.

Authority has nothing to do with this.
Families
eat
to-ge-ther.

She pushed her plate away and said, “I eat when Mondragon eats.”

Lucien set his fork down and stared at her.
Do you purposely look for ways to thwart me?

Falon smiled and shook her head.
I live to thwart you, but on this I feel strongly. How can you not? By eating first, you do not show them the respect they are due.

My eating first is symbolic of who I am.

No one here questions your leadership, Lucien. Don’t rub it in their faces. By all means, be served first but share the meal with them.

He shook his head and stood. “Mondragon, while I am your alpha, we are a family first. From this meal forward we
all
eat at the same time and we will also share so that all the way down to the omegas, no one leaves the table hungry.”

Almost eighty pairs of eyes turned on Falon. In some she saw uncertainty, in some of the females open hostility, but in most—even the big sergeant at arms, Joachim—she saw quiet gratitude.

“Eat, Mondragon!” Lucien bellowed. “You will need your strength for the pairings!”

With a gusto she had never witnessed, the pack dug in. Their bawdy talk and laughter punctuated with the noises of happy eating.

Lucien pushed his plate away from him and sat back in his chair. He set his right arm on the back of Falon’s chair and watched the beer and wine flow and his pack grow louder and bawdier by the minute.

One of the men Lucien fought earlier reached across the table to a young woman and pulled her toward him. She screamed, pretending to fight him. He tore her shirt off and captured a nipple in his mouth. Moaning, she arched into him. His actions set off a chain reaction.

Falon was not unaffected by the pheromones swirling around her. Lucien’s body tightened beside her. Hers answered with its own tension. She dared to look up to find his golden eyes blazing brightly.

Falon swallowed and turned away just as Joachim bent one of the girls across the table next to her, flung her skirt up, and then thrust into her. The woman howled as she pushed back against him. The air warmed exponentially. The thick musk of sex rose around them, hanging like a storm cloud above them. Lucien had not moved. Falon dared not to.

Dishes crashed to the floor, chairs were knocked over, the tabletop vibrated as the wild wantonness of the rutting pack jostled for position. The females moved from one male to another, some returning to the first one. From what Falon could see, there was no ejaculation, just wild, crazy fucking.

“Why do the women take more than one man?”

“There are more males than females, but only two can pair.”

“How will they choose?”

“They will see which one fits best.”

Heat stung Falon’s cheeks. “That sounds so barbaric.”

Lucien shrugged. “It happens in most civilized human societies. In Lycan land it’s just concentrated and accelerated. But unlike the human world, once the marks are exchanged, the bond cannot be broken. Not by man, by beast, nor by any act of Congress.”

Not wanting to mention Rafael but wanting to know why the same did not apply to her and Rafael, Falon asked, “Then how do you expect me to act as if my bond to your brother does not exist?”

Instead of anger, Lucien looked at her with laconic eyes. The pheromones excited him on one level but drew his anger, for the moment, from him. “There are several factors involved Falon. One, Rafael is alpha as are you and as am I. But more defining is the Blood Law.” Lucien’s jaw tightened when he said, “You will always feel what you feel for my brother. That will not change even when he chooses another mate. He will always feel your bond to him, but survival trumps pheromones and love. The packs must reproduce or die. Love is a weakness we can ill afford. Rafael knows that. So do I.”

“Is that why you allowed me to leave today?”

He inhaled sharply, then exhaled. “I gave you the choice to leave today to show the pack you were either in or out. I cannot ask for their trust and confidence if they think my chosen one does not trust me. It will weaken the pack. A weak pack is a dead pack.”

“So, you would have let me go and then what?”

He exhaled in a long breath. “Then I would have done what I should have done a decade ago, chosen a mate and got on with pack business.”

“So any female will do?”

“No, Falon, not any female would do!” he hissed, looking hotly at her. “I have waited sixteen years for you!”

“You do not live by your credo, Lucien.”

“I always act with my pack’s best interests first.”

“Then you would have forgiven Rafael, and moved on.”

“You have yet to understand that strength and respect rules a pack. Though we walk the earth most of the time as humans, we are wolves first. In the wild, an alpha strives for peace in his pack. He does this by being just, confident, and strong. He does not hesitate to fight for his pack or clean house within his pack if there are those who would challenge him on even the simplest level. If I had publicly or privately said, ‘Hey, Rafe, even though I know you thought my chosen one was a Slayer even though she wasn’t, and killed her, I’ll forgive you.’ Do you know how that would have been perceived? Weak. Just a hint of blood and the sharks would circle before they would have torn me apart. There can be no show of indecision, weakness,
or
hesitation.”