Bloodright (3 page)

His mind swirled with what it would mean to finally have a mate, and how she would affect his future. Lucien glanced down at Falon’s pale face. His chest tightened. He would not love her. Could not. Not when she loved his brother. He trusted Rafael would not come for her, and he believed Rafael would do all in his power to convince Falon he loved another, but Falon’s heart would never beat for Lucien. She would never share her heart with him, but more than that, he would not share what was left of his with her.

He was incapable of loving.

The day he watched his parents die the most heinous of deaths at the hands of Thomas Corbet and his brothers Balor and Edward had jackhammered away a chunk of Lucien’s heart. The day his chosen one died in his arms by the brother he loved as much as he loved himself, what little part of his heart was left disintegrated into dust. While his vengeance against Rafael had eaten at him for years, his true driving passion since he was ten years old was to destroy every drop of the Corbet bloodline. Destroy the blood, destroy the threat.

The rising was two months away. His mother was Mondragon of the greatest European pack. They would follow him. But Rafael had the support of the Russian and northern packs.

Lucien sneered. That loyalty would not last once they heard how the great golden alpha had softened because of a female, and one not even full Lycan.

Falon stirred in his arms as if she knew he thought of her with disdain. Even if every pack on the planet served Lucien, Rafael held the trump card: the Eye of Fenrir. The ancient ruby ring that housed the powerful but traitorous wolf, Fenrir. The power the ring held was untold. The soul who possessed it, and understood the power within and how to wield that power, was untouchable.

Throwing his head back, Lucien howled at the waning moon. “Oh, Rafael, had you not been blinded by your honor, you could have used the power of the ring to destroy me and have your woman. No one would dare challenge you!”

But Rafael played by the honor code. Using the ring would have disrespected the council’s decision and in so doing disrespected the Blood Law. What did it get him? Nothing but a ring with the promise of power that would never be used and the loss of his chosen one.

If Lucien possessed the ring there would be no doubt what he would do with it. He would exploit every facet of it. He would not wait for the rising. Single-handedly he would go on a rampage destroying every descendant of Peter “the Wolf” Corbet. There would be no place any of them could hide. None with the power to stop him, and once he had eradicated the world of that bloodline, he would go after the rest of them. One by one, they would die a slow, miserable death by his hand alone. And when the world was free of every last Slayer, he would call the packs together and they would unite and rebuild as one.

What had Rafael done with the ring? Nothing proactive that Lucien could see. It was wasted on a man who was so blinded by his honor, he could not see that to survive, he must use the power
now
and strike before the rising.

Lucien glanced down at Falon. Mauled and bloody as she was, her unusual beauty shown through. But there was more than that holding Lucien’s attention. Her mystical essence was strong. Magic swirled around her bright aura. He knew firsthand she had a temper. Knew she was a fighter, too. He inhaled her rich, musky scent. Carnally, she would be unpredictable and insatiable. She was a worthy mate. That he would not deny. He looked ahead at the dark ribbon of road. To be loved by this woman as she loved his brother would be as powerful in itself as the Eye of Fenrir.

Even his own chosen one had not loved him the way Falon loved Rafael. Was he not worthy of such love? Snarling, Lucien dug his fingers into Falon’s waist. He
was
worthy! More than worthy. He was alpha! He deserved all that Rafael possessed, including being loved by his chosen one. But to receive love, one must give it, and Lucien had none to spare.

His lips pulled back from his teeth. Yeah, she may never love him, but the silver lining was that
he
would have her. She would bear
his
children. And long after they triumphed over the rising, Rafael would roam aimlessly among the mountains craving the one true mate he could never have.

Lucien leashed his anger before it took control of him. Even if he were to die an untimely death, once he took Falon and marked her as his, Rafael would never take her back. His honor would never allow it, much less his pride. Lucien scoffed. He got the pride thing. Had Falon lain with any other man than his brother, and if his revenge would not live on in his possession of Falon, even with all her powers combined, Lucien would have refused her as his chosen one.

Lucien smiled. She had a few other assets that swayed him. His gaze swept her full breasts. She was a prize. And naive. She had unknowingly been lured last month into trading blood with him. Small though it was, it took only a drop from each of them for the exchange to manifest into the power to slip into her subconscious and not only speak to her but—touch her. He suspected Falon didn’t realize she possessed the same power. The sensations were real. All senses firing when the bloods recognized their counterpart. And for all that she had belonged to Rafael, she belonged to him now.

His skin warmed as he remembered how, like a mist, he had gone into her dreams and intimately touched her. Heat sluiced through his veins straight to his dick. He could not remember ever feeling so sexual as when she responded to his touch in her dreams, and it had been just an illusion. She had been delectably innocent to his power over her then, now—his arm tightened around her waist drawing her closer to his chest. Once she healed, he would come to her in full flesh and bone. He would fuck her until she howled herself hoarse and every Lycan for three hundred miles would know what he was doing to her. It would drive Rafael mad.

Keeping Falon alive had been a score on more than one count.

FALON WRITHED IN pain on the damp sheets. Her body sizzled with fever. Feeling like lead, her limbs weighed her down. Every joint ached. Her swollen eyes pounded like wrecking balls against her eyelids.

She had been slogging through crowds of aimless souls for days, weeks, months, fighting her way toward the sliver of light that beckoned in the distance, just beyond the souls who slogged as she toward the light. Each time she got close enough to feel the warmth of the light across her cheeks, thick fog sucked her back into the gray purgatory of nothingness. Far below her feet, the churning black abyss of hell waited for souls to fall into its hungry jaws.

Strong hands caught her each time she slipped through the fog toward the violent vortex beneath her. If the whirlpool caught hold of her, it would suck her down, and even the strong hands that had repeatedly pulled her from it would not be able to save her. It had been what she wanted: that black numbness of death. But when faced with the reality of death, she fought to live.

Rafa! Come for me!

Each time she called out to him, her voice echoed back. Unanswered.

A choked cry caught in her throat.
Rafa, why do you ignore me?

Her heart shuddered to a halt with grim realization. There was only one reason Rafa would not return her call. He was dead.

I’m so sorry!
she sobbed.

Why had she sworn to abide by the council’s decision?

Because the verdict could be only one of two. Either they would believe Rafael was justified to kill Lucien’s chosen one because she was a Slayer, and with that belief allow her to stay with Rafael, or they would not believe him and hand her over to Lucien to destroy. The word of the Blood Law was painfully clear: an eye for an eye.

Had they given Lucien license to kill her, she would have killed him in self-defense and lived with the consequences. She would have hidden until the rising when she would reveal herself to stand beside Rafa and fight for their lives. With the dawn of a new world, new laws would be written. New laws that would make it possible for her to be with her true love.

Never had she imagined that the council would allow her to live. A twist on an eye for an eye. Her living, breathing life for the one Rafael took from Lucien. Why didn’t they condemn her to death? She had the power to destroy Lucien when he took his revenge. Now, as much as she longed to be with Rafa, she could not, would not, kill Lucien in cold blood.

Why was this happening? Who did she piss off? And how the hell was she supposed to get out of this mess?

The fog began to clear as the same powerful hands that guided her through her perilous journey slid possessively along her arms, to her shoulders. Warm lips pressed against the pain in her chest. A thick tongue swathed a warm, moist trail across a sensitive nipple. Arching into the soothing cadence, Falon moaned.

A deep growl reverberated from the sensuous lips pressed to her. Sensitive waves of desire shimmered across her chest, down her belly to settle in her womb. A keen sense of safety encompassed her like a warm fluffy blanket just out of the dryer. Thick emotion clogged her chest. “Rafa,” she whispered, “you came for me.”

Deep laughter vibrated around her. “Not Rafa, love. Lucien, your alpha.”

Falon’s eyes flew open. Lucien’s dark head hovered above her breast as his lips suckled her nipple, sending harsh flashes of fire to her loins. “No,” she cried.
Not Lucien.

He smiled against her nipple and tugged at it with his teeth. “Yesss,” he hissed. “In the flesh.”

Falon swallowed hard. Trying to raise a hand against him was impossible. Her limbs would not respond to her command to move. The ache in her joints radiated to other parts of her body. Squeezing her eyes shut, Falon inhaled deeply, then exhaled. This was a dream. A
nightmare
. She would wake up next to Rafael. But instead of falling back into the safety of unconsciousness, her body responded to the sensuous pull of the man above her.

It terrified her.

Not his touch. No, his touch—she moaned and arched into his hand when he cupped her other breast—thrilled her. What terrified her was how much it thrilled her.

He plucked her sensitive nipple with his fingers as he licked and suckled the other. “Lucien—” She gasped.
Stop.

“Falon,” he roughly responded.
Make me.

How could she make him stop when she could not raise a hand? And did she want to? She felt tipsy as if she had drunk too much wine. The sizzling wake of her blood as it raced to her womb felt like tiny hot champagne bubbles. Tempting and teasing her sensitive places.

She climbed a slippery slope. By rights, she had sworn to go with Lucien as his chosen one, as well as all that went with that title. But—if she gave into the temptation of Lucien, if Rafael lived, he would turn his back on her for all time. That she could not bear. Ever.

Falon screamed her frustration, and arched weakly against the strong arms pinning her down. Lucien’s laughter reverberated across her hot skin. In a slow, languorous trail, his lips and tongue swept across her aching body.

As his touch extracted one pain from her, it infused her with a different pain. Even if she could fight it, she wouldn’t. After the trauma her body had just been through, what he did to her now felt too damn good. Intuitively she knew she had lost a substantial amount of blood, and that despite Lucien’s healing powers, her body would need more time to rejuvenate. Her strength was nothing compared to what it would be if she were healthy. If it were, Lucien would be part of the wall right now.

“Don’t fight me, Falon, not now when you are no match for me.”

She fought to open her eyes again, but they were so heavy. “Take advantage of my weakened state, Lucien, and it will be the last thing you do.”

His tongue slid across a deep bite on the inside of her thigh perilously close to her mons. Falon bit back a deep moan, trying unsuccessfully to stay the slow undulation of her hips.

“Oh, God,” she gasped when his tongue slid along the wet seam of her soft, fleshy nether lips. Her fingers dug into the linen beneath her. His audacity should not shock her. When they had bitten each other in Rafael’s room less than a month ago, she had unwittingly made a blood bond with him. He had come uninvited into her thoughts more than once, and more than once had touched her in a most salacious way. That it was all in her head made it no less real.

Dear God, stop him, before I cannot stop myself. She hated him. He was ruthless, cruel, and sinister. Yet, from their first meeting, he fascinated her on a dark and dangerous level… Whereas Rafael was all that was golden and honorable, Lucien was all that was dark and decadent. His emotions ran as deep as his brother’s, maybe deeper. It made him all the more dangerous. All the more of an enigma. All the more unpredictable. The ultimate challenge to any woman to tame the tortured beast within him.

“I would never take advantage of you in such an unseemly way, Falon.”

“Liar,” she moaned as his tongue sluiced down the inside of her thigh. Her hands fisted the linens tighter. Her wounds throbbed with each heartbeat; his tongue soothed them in long, languid strokes. The intoxicating blend of pain and pleasure drove her mad. Falon steeled her muscles to resist him but the effort painfully torqued her mauled body. Loosening her muscles, she stopped fighting.

“I have never forced you.”

“You have—” She moaned when his tongue slid down her calf to her ankle and licked a deep bite there, then along her instep to her toes. “Stop—that.”

“If I stop, you will not heal.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“It is not your decision to make.”

“You are not the boss of me!”

He laughed low. Taking her foot into his big hands, Falon hissed as the pain shot through her. “The bones in your foot have been crushed.” Gently he began to massage her foot.

Heat emanated from his fingertips into her skin, through the tendons and muscles to her bones. God, it felt so soothing, so—“Ahh, Lucien, that feels so”—she bit back a moan of pleasure as it tangoed with the pain of the fractures—“good.”