Bloodright (34 page)

In a lightning quick move, Rafael hurled one of his swords to Lucien. He leapt high into the air to grab it. As he came down, he kicked dirt into the closest Slayer’s horse’s face. The steed snorted and reared and as he came down, Lucien leapt into the air again and decapitated the Slayer. As his body fell to the ground, Lucien grabbed his sword and tossed it to Falon.

Momentary confusion rippled through the Slayers. Vulkasin and the Russian packs took advantage of it. As if they had been practicing the tactic for ages, they circled the demons on horseback.

The dogs on the ridge snarled and snapped, rushing them. Falon raised her sword pointing at the pack. “Down!” she commanded. No one was more surprised than the Slayers when they obeyed.

“Attack!” the Slayer leader commanded from behind Falon.

Their haunches bunched up to leap. Falon stepped boldly toward them. “Down!” Her voice boomed through the pines, forbidding everything but obedience. The savage hellhounds whimpered like pups and lay down again.

With her free hand she raised her hand in the stop position and said firmly, “Stay!”

She turned to the furious Slayer and smirked. “Even your black magic cannot trump a true bitch’s power.”

Nearly two dozen pairs of eyes glittered malevolently at her from behind dull black, split-nose helms. The Slayers were furious, but she also sensed their apprehension of her. Word had begun to circulate. It was well known she had destroyed Edward, second most powerful Slayer only to his brother Balor. She was sure these guys, though not the same scent as clan Corbet, knew she’d had a hand in Ian Corbet’s death, not to mention the hash she and Lucien made out of the Vipers last week. It was established she had powers a normal Lycan did not, and that she was not shy about using them on Slayers. But what most likely gave them the most cause for concern was the fact that the two most powerful alphas on earth coveted her above all other women, Lycan and mortal. She was special. And she owned it.

I’ll handle them,
she said to Lucien and Rafe. It wasn’t a request, but a command. As the hellhounds obeyed so did her alphas. But unlike the hounds, Lucien and Rafe were highly alert and prepared to assist.

“Who are you? And what is your status amongst your clan?” Falon demanded of the first in command. “And who”—she pointed to the pile of ash at her feet—“was he?”

“I am Eric Warner, nephew of Balor and sergeant at arms for clan Corbet.” He looked absently down at the bloody corpse. “That was my brother Jonas, the former captain of my uncle’s guard.”

Falon raised her sword to Warner. For a brother, he didn’t seem overly sad. His lack of emotion solidified for Falon the coldhearted contempt she had of the Slayers. They were an evil bunch bent on simple destruction. Not because of the lore, but because they were simply terrorists who enjoyed, no,
lived
to kill. “He wasn’t very good at his job.” She narrowed her eyes and asked, “How would you like to die today?”

His horse pawed the ground as if he were asked the question. “I would ask the same question of you.” Warner sneered.

His band of Slayers had slowly drawn into a tight circle, much as Ian’s men had when they were under attack. The only difference being they did not form a protective circle around Warner, though they were tightly woven into an impenetrable wall of horseflesh, chain mail, and weaponry. The Slayers may be outnumbered twelve to one, but they were better armed and—Falon’s gaze swept the leather-wrapped spiked forelegs of the sturdy horses. Those razor-sharp spikes could shred a human or wolf in half with one move. If they attacked, they were going to lose Lycans in the process. Sparing even one Lycan life was paramount not only to Falon emotionally, but to the eventual rising.

Her bloodlust for a fight warred with her need to be diplomatic. She was feeling cocksure of her rising power. So she flexed her muscles. “I’ll give you the first shot, Eric. If you miss or if I deflect your effort, then you dismount and give me the same opportunity. If I hit my mark, you all die.”

A collective gasp went up from both factions.

Falon!
Lucien and Rafael said at the same time, stepping forward.

Stand back! By your actions you show your lack of confidence in me!

But it was exactly those actions that gave Warner the notion she was not as powerful as rumored.

“I’ll take that offer and up you one,” Warner said confidently.

Falon nodded.

“I hit you, even a nick, my men are to remain unharmed and you return to clan Corbet with me.”

The silence was so deafening you could hear a pine needle drop onto the soft ground.

“I agree.” She stood where she was, only ten feet from the mounted Slayer, and raised her arms with the sword clasped in her right hand. “Take your best shot.”

Warner raised his sword high over his head, and just as he was about to hurl it, he tossed it to his left hand and pulled a nasty looking dagger from a short sheath on his belt. As it touched the air, it glowed white-hot. In a low throaty drone, he chanted a spell. The blade hummed to life in his hand.

She’d been duped! Falon steeled herself as the heat of the conjuring spell gripped her. Invisible hands grasped hers, squeezing her sword hand until the weapon dropped from her numb fingers. Her legs wobbled unsteadily beneath her. Wide-eyed, she stared, unable to speak as Warner’s incantation gripped her.

The only thing unparalyzed was Falon’s mind. She was as clear and coherent as a full moon on an endless night. Wary and powerless to stop it, she watched the dagger rise above Warner’s head, the glinting tip of the blade pointing directly at her heart. With the speed and heat of a laser it burned into her chest. The velocity of the hit forced her backward several feet.

She heard Lucien’s calls to her, but her anger was so thorough, she had eyes and ears only for Warner. Her anger was not at the Slayer, it was at herself for underestimating the Slayer’s power. And overestimating hers.

Her body was numb, no longer in her control. The dagger burrowed deep into her. Twisting and turning, tearing her flesh and bones. Tunneling for her heart.

In her peripheral vision, the thud of hooves on the ground, the clash of steel, snarls, and screams reverberated in her head. The warm spray of Lycan blood spattered her face.

Her knees buckled, her vision clouded. She collapsed to the ground. Falon fought to stay conscious, not to succumb to the cold grayness that engulfed her. What had she done?

Luca…

A strong hand clasped her right hand. Another her left.

The power of three, angel face.

Luca. Rafe.

Focus, Falon!
Rafael commanded.
Focus.

The power of the alphas infused her with energy. Her eyes flew open.
No,
she cried out as she watched one Lycan after another fall beneath Slayer swords. The pain of watching them fall was more than the pain of the dagger in her chest. It was her fault they fell.

Lucien and Rafael pulled her to standing as they fought off Slayers. Falon dug deep, knowing the combined power they possessed.

As she had Ian Corbet’s bullets, she forced the dagger from her chest. Mesmerized, she watched it rise above her then turn traitor to its master.

“You swore to accept the outcome of the challenge!” Warner screeched.

Falon shrugged. “I lied.” And she’d do it again. Wasn’t all fair in love and war? Fascinated, she watched the dagger. Like a flash of lightning it flew at Warner just as he wielded his sword above his head to separate Lucien’s head from his shoulders.

Wide-eyed, the Slayer screamed as the blade sliced into the tightly welded metal links of his mail, then found its way home, deep in his chest. Breaking her hold with Rafael, Falon reached for Warner’s sword. Amazingly, it cleaved to her hand as if it recognized her as its new mistress. With power beyond her measure, Falon swung the great weapon high over her head and brought it down on Warner’s neck as he fell from his horse. He hit the ground in two pieces.

Falon cried a feral battle cry when the remaining Slayers turned their horses, spurring them to safety.

“After them!” Lucien cried. As one, the packs shifted and like a nightmare they took off after the Slayers. The Berserkers took the lead, and as they came up over the ridge, they leapt into the air and down upon the remaining horsemen as they hit the bottom of the crevice.

Their powerful jaws bit off several Slayers’ hands, disarming them. Falon grabbed a sword in her jaws from the ground and in full gallop, she flung it at a fleeing Slayer. It sunk deep between the shoulders. As he hit the ground, she pounced on him, tearing him into unrecognizable pieces. The balance of the packs swarmed behind her and soon, every horse was riderless. Quickly, Falon shifted, as did Lucien and Rafe. Along with the others, they made quick permanent work of the remaining Slayers. For long moments Falon stood naked between Rafe and Lucien, blood spattered, chest heaving, her heart rate frantic, and watched in fascinated excitement as each Slayer turned to ash.

Euphoria infused her. She looked up into Lucien’s sparkling eyes and heat swept the length of her. Her nipples tightened and her breathing labored intensely as she sensed his heightened sexual awareness. She could not have turned off the thing between them if she wanted to. There was something about the heat of the battle with Lucien that brought out the most primal part of her. She growled softly, wanting him with an intensity neither one of them could deny.

He slipped his bloody arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against his chest. “I swear by all that is sacred, Falon, if you ever pull another fool stunt like that again, I’ll kill you myself!” His lips crushed against hers. Falon moaned, leaning into him. His skin burned against hers. His cock lengthened against her belly.

Rafael’s possessive growl behind her stoked her primal fire to inferno-grade heat. Lucien’s arm tightened around her waist, his kiss deepened. When Rafe touched the small of her back, Falon cried out. His added touch sent shock waves through the three of them. Lucien snarled and pulled her away, like a dog with his bone, unwilling to share. She understood. She belonged to Lucien.

“Rafael—” a deep accented voice called from several feet away.

Instinctually, Falon knew it belonged to Anja’s sire.

Lucien pulled her away from the fray and into the thick grouping of trees nearby. “Lucien, we can’t—” Falon protested despite her yearning for him.

“As much as I want to lay you down and make love to you right this minute, Falon, I pulled you away so that Rafe could save face with his future in-law.”

Shocked, Falon looked up at him. His passion was still thick and hot against her, but his eyes looked past her to the heated discussion going on between the two alphas. “Why?”

His bright golden eyes turned from the animated conversation going on in the clearing to her. They softened when they rested on her. He raised his hand and gently swept the blood and grime from her cheeks. “Because, once again he came to our aide. I owe him my respect for that if nothing else.”

Falon smiled and pressed her hand to his. Bringing it to her lips, she kissed it. “You never cease to amaze me.”

Lucien smiled and looked past her to the alphas. Falon followed his gaze. They stood toe to toe, nose to nose, their voices low and furious.

“He has called Rafe out,” Lucien said softly.

“What does that mean?”

Lucien’s arm tightened around her possessively. “Rafe either marks the old man’s daughter tonight or fights the old wolf to one of their deaths to preserve her honor.”

Nineteen

LUCIEN TILTED FALON’S head up. Dreading the truth, he asked the question burning his tongue. “Does your heart still long for what you can never have again?”

The tension in Falon’s body tightened. He fought the urge to pull away. He was a fool to have asked, but he would hear her out. He had after all asked the question. Slowly she shook her head, but the glitter of tears in her eyes belied what he knew was in her heart. “I will always love Rafael, and if I said the thought of him making love to Anja would not hurt me, I would be a liar.” She smiled softly and gently touched his fingers on her chin. “But my love for you has filled my heart to full. You have revealed your true self to me, Lucien. You’ve trusted me with your heart. I have entrusted mine to you. That bond cannot be broken. Not by my feelings for Rafe, not by anything.”

Lucien swallowed hard as the truth about Mara surfaced. His gut did a slow, unsteady roll. “Falon, I—I am not the man you think I am.”

She rose on her toes and kissed his lips. “You are much more.”

He gathered her tightly in his arms. Her sweet essence filled his nostrils. “I need to tell you the truth about Mara.”

Falon shook her head and nipped at his shoulder. Heat flared hotter in his loins. She laughed and rubbed her belly against his erection. “If you told me she was the love of your life, it wouldn’t matter. So long as I am the chosen one of your heart, her ghost will never come between us.”

She pulled back just enough to gaze up into his eyes. The truth tasted sour in his mouth. But to cleanse his palate, he needed to tell her. “There is more to it than that.”

Falon’s brows wrinkled. “Is she alive?”

“No!” he hurried to assure her.

“Then there is nothing to discuss.” She looked past his shoulder to the clearing. “The alphas have come to an agreement.”

Lucien turned to see Rafe and the elder alpha begin to address the packs. Falon slid her palm down Lucien’s burgeoning cock and squeezed him, then looked longingly down at the wide bulging head. “The dragon is going to have to wait. The last thing I want to do is to walk out there amongst battle-excited males smelling like the one thing on all of their minds.”

Lucien growled softly and nuzzled his cock deeper into her hand. “I would kill any one of them who so much as sniffed you.”

“After the rising, beat your chest to your heart’s content; until then, behave yourself.”

Falon released him. He hissed in a deep breath, resisting the urge to press her up against the tree and sink balls deep into her. It would always be so with her. The hunger for her body. The need for her heart. The fear of losing her…