Desires of the Otherworld 2: Darkest Hunger (12 page)

Reluctantly, she pulled away. Now that she had tasted him, she wanted to do so again. A pang of sadness struck, and she quickly pushed it away. She’d caved to her fantasy and had given Bridon something he wanted. That didn’t change anything. Thinking about what could never be would only make things harder on her in the end.

He started to lower himself, and the glint in his eye told her he was eager to reciprocate. She stopped him by shaking her head and standing, offering a weak smile.

“I want to use the spring.”

He grinned, reaching for his shirt. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

“Not so fast.” She placed her hand in the center of his still-clothed chest. “You’re taking me to meet my nephew. Remember?”

He released his shirt. “Anxious to meet him?”

It was so hard to keep from revealing how much the question hurt. Of course she wanted to meet the child. If the full moon weren’t going to rise, she’d ensure she did so before her plan was carried out.

“He’s my brother’s son and the heir to the Lycae throne. What do you think?”

“You seem so certain of that.”

“Certain of what?”

“That your nephew will one day claim the Lycae throne.”

Angry, she stepped away from him, striding for the heated pool. “Of course he will. That’s why I came for him. He belongs with his people. The pack means him no harm, unlike your kind.”

“You truly believe that, don’t you?” Bridon asked quietly.

Wading into the water, she turned to face him and narrowed her eyes. “Lycae weren’t the ones who killed his parents, which makes me question why you didn’t kill the baby in the first place or why you’ve allowed me to live for that matter. I suppose it’s not so easy to kill off your own Fated. It’s too bad you didn’t offer the same courtesy to your sister or my brother.”

“None of my people killed your brother or my sister, Willow.”

“Is that so?” she demanded, feeling her wolf come to life. “Who was responsible, then? Everyone knows it was vampires who finished them off.”

Bridon’s jaw clenched, and he formed tight fists. It seemed as if he was fighting not to say something he desperately wanted to. After a moment, his fingers unfurled.

“There is a lot you don’t know. As much as I want to tell you, I’ve given my word to someone else that they will be the one to share it with you.” He spun around, calling over his shoulder, “Take your bath and get dressed. I’ve left food and water on your satchel. We have a long trip ahead of us.”

She dunked her head under the water to keep from exiting the pool and throwing a punch or two in his direction. Everything he said was a lie. It was a well-known truth that vampires had killed Micah and Savannah. Sure, her pack wasn’t thrilled when they learned their future alpha found his Chosen among vampires. However, given time, they’d come to terms with it.

As she surfaced, she turned her back to Bridon and felt an eerie sense of relief. She was once again where she needed to be mentally, without emotions or that fluttering feeling in her chest to muddle her thoughts. Bridon Walkyr was the enemy. He always had been. Now, remembering that, she reached for the pride that had always been her foundation.

Being Fated to each other didn’t mean shit. Once they arrived at their destination and she did as she must, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

Chapter Ten

Agony. The entire journey had been pure fucking
agony.

Willow had refused to speak to him, going silent once again, making the minutes pass like hours. He’d tried to engage her several times, including using playful antics such as tossing berries in her direction or telling her stories about her nephew that didn’t divulge information he couldn’t give. She’d acted impartial to it all, staring straight ahead. When he asked questions about her past and childhood and she didn’t respond, he told her about his people and his life with his parents before they were killed during the War of Souls. That interested her enough that she glanced over at him as he explained that when a mortal realm ended—what mortals referred to as the apocalypse—races would choose sides and fight to retain control of portions of the new world that would be created. Despite her obvious fascination with the concept of gods trying to rebuild the mortal realm in the hopes that they would find the good in man, she didn’t partake in what remained a one-sided conversation.

Then at midnight, with the moon high in the sky, he noticed something that should never have slipped his attention. No wonder she didn’t want to talk. If she had, she probably would have given herself away.

Her wolf was surfacing.

Lucian had warned him that the most powerful magik might not contain it, as Willow was as powerful as any alpha. Right now, it was mostly notable in her eyes. Before, they had changed color and eventually returned to normal. Now, the irises flared with her anger, becoming bright in the dark. She didn’t have to speak to convey her emotions. Her eyes did that well enough.

From midnight until dawn, she gazed at the moon. He couldn’t decipher the expression on her face. At times, she would lift her chin and close her eyes, as though the orb high in the sky called to her. When the moon descended and the new day arrived, she watched its departure with haunted eyes.

Thankfully, they’d arrived at their destination with minutes to spare. He could feel the impending dawn, an ingrained warning that told him it was time to seek shelter from the rays of the sun. Once they made it inside the cave, he would remove the chasm that had broadened between them. Today he would ensure that when the full moon rose, she would be his Chosen in every sense of the word.

He’d just dismounted when he heard a high-pitched whistle followed by a loud grunt. When he turned, he watched in panic as Willow grasped frantically at the darts buried in the center of her chest. Before he could make it to her side, he heard the whistle again—closer than before—and felt several sharp stings in his back.

Seconds ticked by in slow motion.

He watched Willow fall from her nightmare and hit the ground as he sank to his knees. Footsteps approached, but he couldn’t move to see who the attackers were. He did the only thing he was able to as his mouth refused to open, reaching out to Willow’s mind for the first time. There was panic in her thoughts, as well as fear.

“I can’t move!”
She kept thinking it over and over again, telling him what he’d suspected the moment he’d been struck with the darts. There was only one group of hunters who used a paralyzing agent versus a sleeping one to ensure their victims wouldn’t wake unexpectedly or ruin their plans.

Poachers—humans who ventured to the Otherworld to harvest organs, blood, and anything else they could from netherworld creatures.

Bridon was flipped onto his back, despite the fact that his muscles were rigid. A haggard face stared down at him, studying him closely. The man reached out, lifted Bridon’s upper lip, and grinned.

“You were right, Finn,” he said. “That one is definitely a vamp.”

“What about the other one?”

The man vanished, and Bridon cursed his inability to move when he heard Willow’s screaming in his mind as she braced herself for what was coming. She might not be able to move, but he could imagine she would attempt to.

“Listen to me, Willow,”
he thought quickly.
“These men are poachers. You have to control your temper. Don’t let them know what you are. Do you understand?”
Frantic, he repeated,
“Do not let them know what you are!”

Bridon knew the moment Willow was flipped over and inspected. He also knew she’d listened to him and was trying to reclaim some measure of calm. The man repeated the procedure, inspecting her teeth, and slid his hands down her body, which had Bridon combating fury of his own.

“This one has to be a feeder. She’s got markings on her neck.”

“Tie her on her horse, cover the vamp and toss him over his, and we’ll head back. We’ve gotta move. The sun’s coming up, and we need to make sure we have him under cover before it rises.”

Bridon was hoisted up, turned, and slowly wrapped in a heavy tarp. It was then that he saw there were eight poachers total. As the world around him vanished, he reached out to Ian.
“Ian.”

It only took a moment before his friend responded, aware as he always was when something wasn’t right.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Poachers.”

“Christ! Where are you?”
Even across the distance, Bridon could sense Ian’s panic. They hadn’t had poachers in their area for half a century. The last time a swarm had ventured from the mortal realm to the Otherworld—to the forest that surrounded his castle—Bridon made sure he relayed a message that would ensure they would never return. Or so he thought. Next time, he’d do more than put their heads on stakes and place them in each corner of his kingdom; he’d scatter their body parts across the border as well.

“Halfway to the portal, using the east path of the forest.”
There was no way Ian or any of his brethren could come to his aid. The sun was already rising. He couldn’t contact Lucian either, as the daemon couldn’t transport without disrupting the portal. That left one person.
“I need you to contact Trace. Tell him where we are.”

“I already have.”

That got Bridon’s attention.
“That fast?”

“Trace arrived early this morning, before the sun rose. He’s on his way to you.”

Bridon felt his strength ebbing as the telepathy drained him. Trying to locate Trace to communicate could very well take all of the energy he had left.

“Don’t reach out to me or anyone else unless you have to. You need to save your strength.”
Ian paused.
“You know what they’ll do when the moon rises. If Willow doesn’t know what’s going to happen, it might be best to keep it that way. Scaring her won’t do either of you any favors.”

The harvesting
. Bridon wasn’t sure if Ian caught the thought, although he was aware his friend probably knew what he must be thinking. Thank the Fates he and Willow hadn’t consummated their relationship and he hadn’t spoken the words to bind them to each other. If Trace didn’t arrive in time, there was a very real possibility Willow wouldn’t have to worry about being his Chosen.

Bridon was lifted and tossed over what he could only assume was his saddle. His hands and feet were tied under the animal’s belly, keeping him in place. As they started to move, he was tempted to reach out mentally to Willow again, but he refrained from doing so. Right now she had to be terrified. He wasn’t sure he could offer the comfort or answers she sought. Instead he started to strategize. The agent in his system wouldn’t last forever. He simply had to keep the mortal men from knowing when the magikal compound began to wear off.

If he wanted to survive, he had to keep his age and identity hidden. If the men who intended to butcher him alive found out how powerful he was, they’d keep him alive only as long as it took to drain his blood. Older vampires were too dangerous to keep around, since they were able to remain awake during the day versus falling into a deep slumber when the sun rose. They’d take his organs one by one before they flayed him like a fish and stripped his flesh from his bones.

For now, he had to pretend to be just like any other vampire they tracked. They’d want his blood first. As long as he could rejuvenate it quickly enough and didn’t appear capable of causing harm, they’d keep him alive. It wasn’t until he was no longer viable or became a threat that they’d go for his organs to sell for use in black magik spells.

He knew it was foolhardy, but he reached out with his telepathy, searching for Trace. Unlike Ian, whom he had a blood bond with, Trace wasn’t as easy to find. Numerous thoughts assailed him as he sought the mind he wanted.

His captors were planning to place him in the center circle and begin the bleeding process at dusk. Ian was in the process of amassing a group that would leave as soon as the sun set. Willow was trying to figure out what was happening to them. His strength immediately began to wane, causing him to slip into blackness. When he found his friend, on the move and over a day’s ride away on the other side of the forest, he managed to impart one message.

“Hurry.”

Then the darkness overtook him.

* * *

“You get a room with a view. We don’t want you to miss the show.”

Willow fell limply onto the mattress the man tossed her on. Luckily the stale heap of box springs and padding cushioned the fall. She was unable to move much, although she’d discovered hours before while seated in the center of what the men called their camp—as they stripped her of her clothing—that she could finally shift her limbs and move her fingers and toes. She groaned as the putrid smell of the mattress rose to her nose. The creaky thing was covered with death, blood, semen, and disease.

Never had the thought of a shower appealed to her so much.

“Don’t worry.” The man called Finn flipped her over and dipped his head, putting them nose to nose. “Once that vampire is gone, I’ll be more than happy to take care of you.”

For a minute, she wondered if she might vomit and choke to death due to paralysis. All of the men looked as if they hadn’t changed or showered in weeks, dressed in filthy clothing, reeking of body odor so strong, it didn’t require a Wolven sense of smell to identify. Finn, however, was the total opposite. He was extremely gorgeous and well-spoken, with dark hair and beautiful green eyes. He gave the orders, and the men followed. He was the leader, without question, which made some kind of karmic sense because he was also the epitome of what Lycae females detested.

Finn—the brains of the psychotic outfit—was a poser. She had no doubt that the man would piss himself in a fight without the weapons that made him feel larger than life. With those looks, he likely charmed his way into many pairs of panties. For her, he ranked lower than an omega of her pack.

“Now, I want you to listen to me closely.” Finn ran a finger along her chin and watched the movement with a tilt of his head. “Soon, you’re going to be able to move freely. If you do anything stupid, the guard posted outside will dart you again. I suggest you sit tight and be a good girl until we’re finished with your boyfriend.” The gentle touch became rough, and he clasped her jaw. “It would be a damned shame to kill you before we’ve had the chance to know each other, but I will if you get in the way.”