To Wed a Werewolf (11 page)

In a move too fast for Long Hair and Glasses to follow, Caleb had it in his hand. He shot the would-be rapist square in the chest, then laughed as he writhed on the ground. Caleb used the prisoner’s belt and bandanna to bind him hand and foot. His primal wolf reveled in the way its captive screamed when the bonds forced his broken shoulder blades into an unnatural position. His shriek cut off abruptly when Caleb clawed the shirt off his prisoner’s chest and stuffed the remnants in his mouth.

“What’s wrong, dickhead? Did you think I’d let you threaten my mate and live? I’ll be back to finish this later, but I‘ve still got to deal with Ron.”

He loped back toward the log cabin, but his tangible menace mingled with the stench of violence and death. Birds took flight. Rabbits cowered in their burrows. The crickets stopped chirping. Even the wind dropped and the trees stopped rustling.

Ron took another swig of whiskey; then he looked around for his mates. “Hey, where is everyone?”

Caleb strolled into view, his human form still wearing his tux. “I’m here.” He leaned against a tree, legs crossed, hands in his pockets. “But I’m afraid your friends are either dead or tied up.”

Ron stepped back, his hand shaking as he pointed his Taser at Caleb’s chest. “Don’t come any closer. I’ve got a Taser.”

“So’ve I.” Caleb spun it around his trigger finger, cowboy-style. “In fact I used it on one of your friends.”

“I don’t believe you.” Ron took another step back.

Caleb stood there as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Please yourself. I thought after all that’s happened, you and me could lay down our weapons and go at it, man on man.”

“Get real,” Ron snapped. “You’ll turn into a giant wolf and eat me.”

“That really wasn’t my intent.” Caleb shrugged. “But now you mention it, it sounds like a plan.”

He stared over Ron’s shoulder, raised his eyebrows, and shook his head.

Ron spun in a panicked circle. “What is it? What did you see?”

“It’s Sylvie,” Caleb lied, but Elves’ blood, he missed her already, “and she’s pissed at you. Come on, sweetness, put the rock down and let me have him.”

Ron turned again, obviously puzzled. Too late. Caleb’s right hook sent blood pouring from Ron’s already tender nose. Fangs and claws elongating into razor-sharp points, Caleb ripped deep furrows in Ron’s chest, then slammed a full-on kick into his solar plexus. Caleb’s primal wolf tried to tear its way to the surface. His natural wolf snarled and wanted Ron’s throat, but Caleb needed to stay human and savor the moment.

Ron twitched on the ground. He lay on his side and puked up half-digested burgers and a puddle of whiskey—but he kept a tight grasp on his Taser. Before he pulled the trigger, Caleb’s well-aimed kick sent it spinning from his hand.

“Welcome to my family.” Caleb bared his fangs. “I guess this makes you the official black sheep—and mutton always was my favorite meat.”

Ron had lost everything: his men, his captives, and the battle that could cost his life. When Caleb stepped closer, he peed his pants and passed out with fear.

Back in primal wolf, Caleb collected his captives, hoisted one over each shoulder, and flashed to the Wolves’ Great Hall. The rustic interior with visible bricks and rough-hewn benches appealed to the animal in him, but way down at the other end—on a dainty Fae table—a rolled parchment dripped red sealing wax like blood.

Damn it, the last thing he needed was a declaration of war.

* * * *

“About time you learned to do that,” King Leonidas greeted his half sister as she flashed into his bustling throne room. He tossed his half-wild wyvern more meat, then elbowed his way through a throng of courtiers to reach Sylvie’s side. “Stand back, you fools. Give her room to breathe.”

“Thank you.” She shivered as the Fae backed off. Her excitement at using her magic faded, and reaction set in. She wished her brother would use his powers to heat this vaulted stone hall. Maybe he didn’t feel the cold, but her human half certainly did. She glanced around at heaps of weapons piled against the tapestry-covered walls, then realized the warriors wore dark armor, not their normal peacock-shaded clothes. “What’s going on here?”

“Your Lykae prince might think he’s above the law,” King Leonidas snapped, “but he went too far when he broke his moon-kissed vows. He was dumb enough to think that if he got married in the mundane world, I’d not hear of it. We Fae might not like to mingle with the other races, especially the humans, but I’m not without my spies. We’ll avenge the insult to the crown, reclaim the border territories I ceded as a betrothal bond, and toss his body at your feet.”

He didn’t just diss her whole life—did he? Yeah, he did. How else could she take
“especially the humans”
? He really did mean humans. Like her.

No wonder her half brother had ignored her until she was seventeen—old enough to marry another species and form a political alliance. Damn, would anyone ever put her first? More specifically, why hadn’t King Caleb cared enough to keep her, even if it was only a few weeks of casual sex?

“Back up.” Sylvie absently patted the red-scaled wyvern as it sniffed around her. “There’s no insult. I didn’t want Giles any more than he wanted me. Thanks to your insistence on a long engagement, we grew up and decided we wouldn’t suit. I even danced at his wedding.”

“And now you’ll dance on his grave. My ambassador delivered the ultimatum yesterday, and after the traditional three days’ grace, we attack. Dismissed, gentlemen”—he took Sylvie’s arm—“whilst I catch up with my little sister.”

“Leo,” Sylvie begged, “don’t do this. I owe King Caleb my life.”

“Swear it under a truth spell.”

“I will,” she promised, “as long as you cast it when we’re alone.”

* * * *

An hour later, the Fae king paced the chamber, angrier than before. “He bloody near raped you, and yet you plead for his miserable life.”

“I was willing,” she protested, “both times. I love him, Leo, but he doesn’t feel the same about me.”

“So he leaves you, possibly pregnant, and sends you home to me. Damn it, Sylvie, it’s either war or a wedding—and your fiancé obviously preferred another.”

Way to go, Leo. Rub it in that I’m only second-class, why don’t you?
“Please, just stop and think a minute. I don’t want people to die over this.”

“Don’t argue.” He waved her protests aside. “My mind’s made up.”

Her magic faded along with any hope of a happy future. Normally, she moved quietly around the Fae court, staying in shadows or hugging the cold stone walls. Okay, she sometimes heard things like “half-blood” and “lowly human,” but she pretended they weren’t about her.

Loving Caleb made her stronger, but her sorrow consumed her. Food was so tasteless she couldn’t eat, and come night, bed was the last place she wanted to be—not if she was there without Caleb. She dozed in and out of erotic dreams, and every time she woke, tears coursed down her cheeks.

Somehow her arrogant Lykae lover—and yes, she loved the way that sounded—had crept into her heart and her soul. He’d never promised her a future, just used her body for their mutual delight, but she longed for him to touch her again.

In the morning, the War dragons still roared in the stables, and armor-clad warriors strode purposefully about the court. Even her brother’s pet wyverns growled and bristled, ready to fight alongside the Fae. Women huddled in groups and chanted healing spells to store in stasis and release on the wounded. The three days’ grace was up, and today King Leonidas would make his first strike on the Lykae territories.

An armed guard marched into the chamber and bowed to his king. “Sire, King Caleb and his elite guard have set up camp in the meadow beyond the drawbridge. Our warriors have the camp surrounded, but the Lykae king’s demanding an audience, and he says he’s brought you a prisoner as a peace offering.”

Chapter Eleven

Please, Sylvie offered a silent prayer, let him have come for me.

Footsteps and a clattering of weapons announced the wolves’ arrival; then one of the Lykae guards hurled a bruised and broken Ron onto the floor. Caleb stepped forward, his bare arms, black leather jerkin, and trousers adding to his air of controlled menace. Crossed swords hung down his back, and he towered over Lykae and Fae alike.

“Greetings, King Leonidas.” Caleb’s face was stern, and his voice sounded so cold she actually shivered. “This scum has something to tell you.”

“It wasn’t just me.” One of Ron’s legs stuck out at an unnatural angle, and he cradled his broken wrist to his chest. “The People’s Defense League made me do it, but I swear I’d have protected the girl.”

Caleb hauled Ron upright, shook him until his teeth rattled, and flung him back down at the Fae king’s feet. “Respect, boy. You will talk about Princess Sylvie with nothing but respect.”

Ron groveled on the floor before the Fae king’s throne. “King Leonidas, I wanted the werewolves dead for the way they defiled my cousin, but your sister was never at risk.”

“He threw me in a cage with a Lykae in primal form,” Sylvie snapped. “Of course I was at risk.”

Even the Fae’s hardened warriors gasped at that. The chief spell caster readied her magic to attack, and the other women instinctively sent a healing spell washing over Sylvie. Better safe than sorry, she supposed. Not that it could fix her shattered heart. Only she couldn’t let them hurt Caleb.

“Stop this! King Caleb protected me even in his primal form.”

She’d always felt safe and secure with Caleb, and it had never entered her head to be scared of his wolf, but the Fae—a race known for their cool heads and cold steel—clearly feared his primal form.

And damn it, would a smile or warm look kill Caleb? She certainly didn’t top his agenda, but the way he kept his attention so firmly on her half brother crushed her. She wanted to wave or blow him a kiss—anything to make him concentrate all that wolfish intensity on her—but she’d only ever be second-class to him. He’d probably moved on to another of his women. The pity of it was, she’d never want any other man.

Joel Blackheart towered over Ron, but he spoke with a civilized good humor that made the human pale. “Tell him, Ronald. Or we’ll have to talk again later, and if I remember rightly, your friend didn’t survive our last conversation.”

“There’s this organization I found online,” Ron sobbed. “The People’s Defense League. They know humans are the superior species and want to keep our bloodlines pure. They paid me to destroy my cousin’s fiancé, but I thought I’d go one better and kill the Lykae king.” He shot an accusing glance at Caleb. “I never regretted anything more in my life.”

“How pure?” Leonidas cut to the heart of the matter.

“They hate all the otherworld species,” Ron sniveled, “and want them all obliterated. Since I failed my mission, they’ll kill me too.”

“Then I suggest”—the Fae King’s smile radiated contempt—“you return this scum to his human masters.”

“Agreed,” Caleb said promptly.

“They’ll kill me,” Ron wailed.

“I expect so.” King Leonidas nodded. “But that’s not an otherworld issue, is it?”

Caleb kept his eyes firmly on the Fae king. “Then, the only other subject up for negotiation is the way my idiot brother broke his betrothal and almost took our nations to war.”

What about me?
Sylvie wanted to scream, but even though her heart almost stopped beating, she refused to show her pain. Tears would come later, but right now she needed to stay strong to get through this. She didn’t rate a mention or even a smile. What a fool she’d been to fall for the Lykae king’s charms, but her heart still belonged to him, whether he wanted it or not. Right now, it looked like he didn’t. Her throat constricted with sorrow, and her stomach churned. She could live with that, but the pain in her heart was…overwhelming.

“Your brother broke his betrothal vows when he jilted my sister and ignored the treaty. A treaty my people have kept with no little cost to ourselves. He insulted the whole Fae nation in his belief that we’d never discover the truth. Caleb the Cold, you are not welcome here, and since there can no longer be a wedding, there will be a war.”

Caleb’s smile was cold and calculating like a cat playing with its prey. “Then,” he announced, his eyes as arctic as his voice, “I’ll marry the girl myself.”

Sylvie gasped. Talk about a reluctant proposal, and if she didn’t agree, it meant war.

“Done,” Leonidas agreed. “But I won’t be put off with another endless betrothal. You’ll marry in three hours at sunset. Sylvie, my dear, go make yourself ready.”

* * * *

Caleb the Cold paced his tented pavilion and cursed. Sylvie hadn’t spared him a glance, let alone a smile, and when her brother had announced her wedding, she’d turned so pale Caleb had thought she’d pass out. She stood up to him, challenged him, and even loved him in his primal form. Her courage amazed him, but when negotiations turned to their forthcoming marriage, he’d seen nothing but pain in her eyes. His natural wolf whined that when she’d fucked him in that cage, she’d only done what she needed to survive.

From the moment they met, he’d toyed with her emotions, and he couldn’t regret his behavior more. His savage primal form had never looked at a woman, but it had wanted. Too big to fit inside a human, it had still craved sexual satisfaction—just like his other two forms. Lost in his beast, he’d plunged inside Sylvie. He’d taken his pleasure but given her only pain. Damn, he’d rather have taken a knife to his balls than hurt her.

No wonder she refused to look at him. If she did, what would she see? A monster who hurt her physically and emotionally? A beast too violent to be loved? She hated him now, but not as much as he hated himself. Without her, survival was…overrated.

His primal wolf clawed at its chest and yowled in sorrow. It needed to claim her in the most primitive way; then it’d cherish, protect, and provide. Inside him, his natural beast flattened its ears and went to its belly. His human form mourned everything he’d lost. Everything he’d thrown away because of Giles’s lies. He loved his true-mate with every fiber of his body, but he’d failed her over and over.