Mating Rights (12 page)

“There’s a dance
tonight. Everyone will be wearing masks,” Kimber said.

Mali arched a brow.
“Oh? I didn’t know that.”

Kimber chuckled. “You’d
know more if you came to the announcements. I thought we could go make masks
together. Fix each other’s hair too. That will take a few hours.”

“I’d like that. Why
masks?”

“I think it’s to give
all the men a fair shot at winning your heart. Level the playing field so you aren’t
just falling for a pretty face when you choose your mate tomorrow night.”

Mali wondered if Jaxon
would show bearing something over his face. There were enough women in town with
dark skin and hair that she could conceivably hide herself amongst them. They
would have a little anonymity at the dance. She could pretend to be someone
else to tease Jaxon and see if he was immune to all women or only her. It would
be interesting to see where his heart lay.

***

A parchment with a
broken wax seal lay atop Nicodemus’ scarred oak desk. In his unyielding,
straight back chair, Nicodemus looked thoughtful as he pushed the thick paper
toward Jaxon.

“Have a read. Tell me
what you think.”

Jaxon scanned the
contents of the letter. “They want to meet with us tomorrow night to form a
truce. Is this genuine?”

“Ah broke the seal
meself. It’s as real as mah signet,” Nicodemus said in his thick brogue,
twisting the gold ring on his right forefinger. Every leader of the original
seven clans possessed a ring which bore their animal totem.

Jaxon scrubbed a hand
across his face. “What are you looking for from me? Approval? You’ll do what
you want regardless of what ah have to say.”

“Ah want to know my best
man is with me. We’ll go for peace and lay this bad blood to rest. Shouldn’t
have taken so long to get around to it, but you know how stubborn I am.”

Jaxon grunted. “Aye,
Alpha. That ah do.”

“I’ll send my messenger
out then.”

Their meeting
adjourned, Jaxon left. As much as he despised the bear clan, he knew they had
to make peace for the greater good of their people. The animosity couldn’t be
maintained for eternity.

Jaxon’s house was empty
when he returned. He closed the door tiredly behind him, ignoring the pain in
his knee that constantly reminded him of past mistakes and foolhardy decisions.
He grabbed the leather book stuffed under the mattress and walked to his chair
by the window.
He flipped the cover open and
pulled the drawing of Jen out. How long since he’d seen her face? Heard her
voice? Smelled her hair? All he could remember anymore was her long blonde hair
and translucent, pale skin. He couldn’t recall the sound of her voice or what
color her eyes were.

Crumpling the paper, he
tossed it at the embers nestled in the fireplace. He watched as the paper
caught on fire and shriveled into black ash.
He’d
been holding onto a dream for ten years. It was hard to love a ghost when you
had nothing to hold on to. A memory couldn’t compare with the warmth of a
lover’s touch.
Jaxon sighed and withdrew the
drawing of Mali he’d been working on. Without her here, he could still picture
the corners of her mouth, tipped up slightly giving her a perpetual bemused
expression even when angry. Those lips and eyes charmed him.

Still, here was another
dream. She made it painfully clear that she would not choose him or anyone else
as a mate. At a festival designed for the sole purpose of granting she-wolves
access to only the best, what cause did she have to settle for someone like
him?
He was old, all used up, damaged goods. He
couldn’t force her to choose him.
For the sake
of his pride and wounded soul, he would best serve himself by refusing to give
in to her desire again. He feared she’d already stolen the last shreds of his
heart.

***

Excitement welled
inside Mali as she and Kimber descended onto the streets and joined their
costumed and masked kindred.
Mali wore her hair
loose, save for two braids at her temples, which cunningly twined around each
other and twisted to the back of her head. She’d woven a crown of grape vines
studded with red and gold leaves and sprigs of red berries to match the
mâché
mask that covered the top half of her
face. Kimber was dressed nearly identical as she.

A cool wind tangled in
their hair and caught their cloaks, bringing with it the scent of fragrant
cooking and wood smoke.
“I don’t know if I can
even eat I’m so excited,” Kimber said, grabbing Mali’s arm and pulling her into
a skip.

“We’ll get some mulled
wine first. I saw them making it earlier. That will loosen us up,” Mali said
with a laugh.

Over the chattering din
of voices, the sounds of minstrels began to play. A lute plucked and a harp
rang
in a charming melody. By the time they made
it to the center, the party was in full swing. Dancing and eating had begun.
Mali led Kimber to the wine, getting them both a
goblet. She handed a cup to Kimber and scanned the crowd for Jaxon’s familiar
build. Would he be here? Knowing him, he would be hiding in the shadows
somewhere, observing the gathering and staying apart from the fun. She would
drag him to the dance if she had to.

She couldn’t see him
anywhere in the mix. She lifted her glass of wine, enjoying the sweet and
pungent scent of herbs before taking a sip. The drink was delicious, encouraging
her to down her glass quickly.

“Whoa! Mali! Not so
fast. It will go to your head before you know it,” Kimber said, sipping her
own. “Mmmm. That is so good. I’ve never had wine that tasted like this before.
It’s different. Strange.”

Mali nodded, feeling
the drums of the musicians’ beat in her blood. Her head spun, but she liked it.
She asked for another goblet of wine and moved away from the table as others
came to drink greedily. “I’m going to find Jaxon,” she said, waving good-bye to
Kimber.

Fire surged in her
blood, making her cheeks hot despite the crisp night air.
She peered through the crowd, wondering where her
ornery wolf could be. Sipping her drink and swaying to the music, she was
surprised when a hand grabbed her elbow. She gasped, spinning unsteadily on her
feet and falling against a broad, hard chest.

Jaxon stood in a
brocaded doublet and fine leather pants. A short cloak covered one shoulder,
secured by a gold braid across the other. A black mask covered the scarred half
of his face leaving the unmarred side free to view.

She slapped at him
playfully, giggling. “That is some disguise, lover.”

“I didn’t want you to
be in any doubt this night.” He grinned and took her drink from her, taking a mouthful
before suddenly spitting the contents out. He froze. He sniffed the goblet.
“How much of this have you had, Mali?” he asked, concern in his voice.

She laughed and gave a
twirl. “Enough.”

He grabbed her arms and
gave her a shake. “One glass? Two?”

She smiled up at him.
“That is my second. Everyone is having some. You should have some more.”

“Come with me,” he
said, frowning as he pulled her through the crowd to the cauldron of simmering
wine. The boy stirred the pot, wiping sweat from his brow with his shoulder.

“Boy. Who made this
wine? Who plucked the herbs?”

The boy stared at him,
gaping.

An elderly woman walked
up. “Is something amiss, sir?”

“Stop serving this wine
immediately,” Jaxon said over the roar of the crowd. Around them, the sounds of
the gathering increased.

Mali’s head began to
pound. She rubbed her temples trying to understand why Jaxon was so upset.
Someone bumped into her knocking her forward against Jaxon. He turned and
scowled at a fellow sprawled on the ground, struggling to stand.

“I taste wolf’s bane in
the wine. Where did you get these herbs, boy?” Jaxon said.

The woman looked
aghast. She tasted the wine herself and spat it out. “He’s right. Ralph, my
list. Why did you bring these herbs?”

Ralph swallowed, his
throat bobbing visibly. “I couldn’t find them all. A girl in the woods led me
to what I was looking for. They all looked the same to me.”

“You fool! Don’t you
know if we were attacked right now we would be defenseless? Wolf’s bane
inhibits shifting,” Jaxon hissed through his clenched jaw.

The old woman slapped
the back of Ralph’s head. “I’ll have your hide for this—“

Before she could begin
berating the boy, a boom cracked above the festival.
The
sudden strange, ominous noise should have silenced the gathering. Instead, it seemed
to fuel the crowd’s boisterous nature. They talked over the echoing sound,
getting louder and drunker by the moment.

Mali swayed on her
feet, feeling sick to her stomach. Jaxon grabbed her, pushing through the
bodies as another loud, booming crack thundered through the air.

“Stay close, Mali.
Don’t lose me.”

She nodded, ripping her
mask away and dropping it as she tried not to trip over her own feet. She
realized he was leading her to his home. The night was darker here, colder.
Beyond the row of houses, she could see the perimeter fence and the watchtower
at the corner. Torches flickered as panicked men raised longbows and shot over
the fence.

“What’s going on?” she
asked with a slur.

“We’re being attacked.
Someone got wolf’s bane into the wine. No one who drank it will be able to come
to our defense.” He stopped. She bumped into him and turned to see what he was
looking at so hard. The fence stood perhaps seven feet high. Above that, the
huge round head of a bear stood. No, more than one. Firelight glinted off fur.

The bears reacted in
unison, ignoring the arrows like mosquitoes. They raised their paws and hit the
fence. Mali watched as the strapping holding the timbers started to snap just
as the sound of splintered timber reached her ears. An enormous paw grasped the
opening and ripped. Poles shifted, disintegrating beneath the onslaught.

Mali choked back a
scream. Jaxon ripped his doublet and cape off, leaving her behind as he raced
across the opening, his limp all but gone as adrenaline surged through his
veins. His shirt flew off like a sail, followed by his breeches. He stopped
only long enough to drop into a crouch and allow his beast to flow through his
pores.
The change was fluid, mesmerizing, as
skin begat fur; human became wolf. A shiver welled inside her as she stood and
watched Jaxon join the fight.

“Hold the wall!” Ranger
shouted, raining arrows at the bear.

Jaxon reached the
opening torn through the timbers. Leaping over the thick fallen log which jutted
into his path, he stood on his hind legs and snapped his jaws around the
enormous paw gripping the thick post.
The bear
howled in pain as Jaxon shook his head, tearing chunks of flesh free with his
sharp teeth. Yanking its paw free from his mouth, it batted at Jaxon’s head. He
crouched before connection. Claws skittered over the tops of his ears.

Jaxon couldn’t tell how
many were on the other side of the wall, attempting to breach the town. The
pounding continued, making his eardrums vibrate. Growling and snapping at
anything that pushed through the opening could only hold them off so long.
The arrows Ranger and the others fired seemed
ineffectual, serving only to anger the shifters on the other side. Lifting his
head, he howled a long, mournful cry to rally the others.

When he received no
response, the blood chilled in his veins.

Townspeople staggered
from the festival, coming to their aid but barely able to stand without
swaying. A quick look back told him Mali was gone, for which he was grateful.
He didn’t want her to get hurt.

Unable to shift, his
brethren leaned their bodies against the hewn wood as the wall shuddered from
the onslaught. He could feel the pounding hits in his bones and prayed they
wouldn’t come through.

A horn blasted from the
front entrance, startling them all.

Ranger whirled toward
the sound. “There are more at the gate. This is a diversion!”

Jaxon realized their
mistake too late. Fools. Why had they thought the bear clan wanted peace?
Lunging off the fallen timber, he raced to the front
gate, ignoring the pain that remained in his leg even with the change. He used
the ache to fuel his rage.

Ursine poured through
the breach. Broad of back, shoulders as high as a grown man standing, the bear
shifters could easily overpower five wolves and retain the energy to fight
more. The wolves were outmanned and the ursine knew it. Trickery and subterfuge
had given them the upper hand in this fight.

Wolves lay on the
ground, trampled beneath the feet of the bears. Alive and injured, or dead, they
were out of the battle. He couldn’t see how many enemies were there—their huge
bodies crowded the gap. Blood matted their muzzles and grotesquely huge paws,
filling the air with a putrid, metallic scent.
Hopeless
desperation swelled in his chest, but he refused to relinquish the fight. Jaxon
tore through the bodies, leaping onto a bear’s back and locking his jaws around
the back of its neck. A satisfying, pain-filled roar erupted from its throat.
The bear stood easily ten feet high, forcing him to release his hold and find
another target.
Around him, his brethren
attacked, lending each other strength despite overwhelming odds.
Bloodlust gripped him, making his pulse pound with
frenzied excitement.