Blood Bond (10 page)

Starr touched his shoulder. “You can’t
carry him that far. You’ll have to go to them and bring them back.”

Lucian shook his head. “I won’t leave you
out here with someone trying to kill us.”

“You’ll be in as much danger as I, but we
have to separate. I’ll stay with Sorin until you bring back help.” She could
hear an invisible clock ticking in her mind, warning her that every second was
precious. She had to get to the castle to warn the queen. If only telepathy
reached across vast distances, instead of requiring close proximity.

Lucian hesitated, appearing to be conjuring
another argument.

“You’re wasting time with arguing. You have
to go, Lucian.” Starr kept her voice firm, and tried to sound confident. “I can
handle anyone who might attack. I
am
a vampire.”

He still looked dubious as he transformed
into wolf-form. He cast a look at her over his shoulder as he began running,
and then turned to face the trail in front of him, seemingly running as fast as
he could.

Starr watched him go and fought back a
feeling of vulnerability. Having Lucian with her was no guarantee they wouldn’t
be attacked. No one had expected Sorin to be shot, but it had happened. She was
alone, but she also knew she could handle the average foe. A human wouldn’t
have much of a chance against her strength. She ignored the quiver of doubt
that hit her stomach as she sank to her knees beside Sorin, assuming a
protective posture. She mustn’t forget that silver could poison vampires too.

* * * * *

He knew he had made good time, but it still
seemed to take forever for Necheau to come into sight. Lucian almost stumbled
when he saw the warm glow of electric lights, having forgotten Rica had allowed
the village that luxury after the spring thaw. He hadn’t been back in two
years, since the change, and it had been daytime during his last visit.

It was a vastly different community from
the one he had left six years ago, also in the middle of the night. During the
brief visits he had made here in Anca’s service, he had made a concentrated
effort to block out unpleasant memories.

Sorin had also been with him, providing
silent support, although his wounds ran just as deep, or deeper, than Lucian’s.
At least he had only received a beating from his father when their relationship
came to light. His grandmother had cared enough about him to take him into the
forest and hide him while he recovered, lest Istal change his mind and decide
to kill Lucian. Of course, she hadn’t cared quite enough to turn her back on
tradition and accept him for what he was.

For Sorin, there had been no one to assist
him. After Lucian’s father—Belia’s lover—finished with his own son, he turned
to Sorin, beating him even more savagely than he had Lucian. Lucian had thought
at the time, and still did, that Istal believed Sorin had seduced him, although
that wasn’t the truth. They had always been drawn to one another.

When Istal finally finished with him, Belia
had cut the word “Abomination” into Sorin’s chest and chained him to the well
in the center of the square, leaving him subject to ridicule by all who passed.
It had taken weeks and several transformations for the scar to fade completely,
because she had carved so deeply.

He swallowed down the memory of that
incident, and the subsequent escape they made via stealth, when Lucian was
recovered enough to leave the forest three nights later and free Sorin from the
chains, so they could flee together, knowing there was no future left for them
in Necheau. He didn’t have time to think about that now. He had come to Necheau
to save his lover’s life, not to win the approval of these people. That was
something he knew they could never do. The Pack was too old-fashioned in their
views.

He ran into the square and searched for
signs of anyone awake. It was after midnight, but many werewolves were
nocturnal by nature. To his misfortune, none were loitering in the square.

He scanned the street, seeking out the
leader’s house. He spotted the one he thought it was, and then saw the workshop
in the back. It wasn’t the same house the leader used to occupy, but he knew
there had been a fire that destroyed Rica’s home two winters ago. This house
still had an almost-new look about the wood and fence surrounding it, and it
must be the one that was under construction the last time he came to Necheau.

He didn’t hesitate to turn in that
direction and run to the house. He felt a pressing sense of urgency, knowing
Sorin and Starr were alone in the woods and vulnerable to attack.

He had reached the porch before remembering
he was still in wolf-form. The Necheans weren’t telepathic, so he would have no
way to communicate with them in his present form. He took time to assume his
human appearance again before slamming the mouth of the howling wolf knocker
against the wood of the door. He didn’t spare a thought for what the person
answering the door would think when they saw him standing there naked. Nudity
was an everyday fact-of-life among the Pack.

But the woman answering the door obviously
hadn’t become accustomed to it. Or perhaps she wasn’t used to seeing strangers
standing nude on her doorstep. The anthropologist, who was now Rica’s mate,
wore an expression of disbelief.

Lucian didn’t wait for her to speak. He
forgot about his discomfort in regards to approaching the Pack for assistance.
All he could think of was Starr and Sorin, alone together and vulnerable. It
didn’t matter any longer what the Pack thought of him, as long as he could
persuade them to help. The words flew from his tongue as Rica appeared in the
doorway behind his mate, looking stern and unwelcoming. “I need your help.
Sorin has been shot, and the queen’s life is in danger.”

* * * * *

Starr divided her attention between the
woods around her and Sorin. He had grown progressively paler, and he was losing
more blood than he should be from the wound. Out of desperation, she ripped
open her wrist and pressed it against his mouth, letting her blood flow into
him. His ability to swallow encouraged her, but she couldn’t help wondering if
it was more of an automatic response than a conscious act on his part.

The wound continued to weep rivulets, and
Starr began alternating applying pressure with her hands, careful not to press
the arrowhead deeper into his flesh, while still scanning the forest. When she
looked down again to check on Sorin and the gash, she saw the bleeding around
the protruding arrow had slowed just a bit. She realized blood from her wrist
was trickling into the injury. Were the healing agents in her blood slowing
down the loss of blood?

Starr opened her wrist anew, to allow more
blood to dribble into Sorin’s wound. She watched, starting to feel
light-headed, as the blood flowing slowed to a trickle. She withdrew her wrist
and pressed it against her robes until the slash closed.

The sound of someone approaching tore her
attention from Sorin. She turned in the direction from where she’d heard the
sound emanate and knelt stiffly on the ground, in a semi-crouch, preparing to
pounce on whomever emerged from the underbrush.

She could have wept with relief when Lucian
came into sight, rather than the individual with the crossbow. Her eyes widened
with surprise when she saw ten werewolves emerging behind him. She was
surprised to see the group included the Alpha and Lupina when they resumed
human-form. She had been afraid they would turn their backs on Lucian. She had
dared to hope maybe a few—including Sorin’s sister—would come to their aid, but
she hadn’t imagined the leaders of the Pack would lend them aid.

Lucian rushed to her side, dropping onto
his knees beside Sorin. “How is he?”

“I’m not sure. The wound continues to
bleed. My blood seemed to help a little, but he’s still unconscious.”

Starr looked up from Sorin as two muscular
men knelt beside them. When they made to lift Sorin, she put out a hand to stop
them.

Lucian touched her hand. “It’s all right.
They’re going to carry Sorin back to the village.”

She bit her lip when Sorin whimpered as
they lifted his large form. “Can they help?” she whispered to Lucian.

He hesitated, and there was a haunted look
in his eyes when he finally answered. “I don’t know, but they’re going to try.”

She nodded and rose to her feet, suddenly
conscious of her nudity in front of the Pack. She crossed her arms over her
breasts before realizing the gesture betrayed her unease. She dropped her arms
at her side and tried to pretend she didn’t feel vulnerable before them. “Are
we returning to Necheau?”

To her surprise, the Lupina stepped
forward. “No. Rica and I will take you on to the castle. Lucian tells us the
queen is in danger.”

Her eyes widened. They were going to help
her? She looked at Lucian, allowing her confusion to show. His shrug didn’t
reassure her. “Will you come with us?” she asked in low tones.

He shook his head. “I’ll accompany Sorin.”
He embraced her quickly, whispering in her ear, “I believe we can trust them,
but watch yourself. I hate to leave you, but he is in a weakened state. He
needs someone with him.”

She knew he was right, but couldn’t deny the
dart of fear she felt at proceeding with only the company of werewolves she
didn’t know, except by sight. Lucian’s presence at her side would have
reassured her, but she knew Sorin needed him more than she did.

She pressed a quick kiss to Lucian’s mouth
and brushed her hand against Sorin’s muzzle as the men holding him passed. She
hoped Sorin would be healed the next time she saw him, and she hoped she made
it to the castle in time to warn Anca. The pressure that had propelled her
earlier was returning with greater force, now that she could concentrate on
something besides Sorin’s safety, and she had to resist the urge to tell Rica
and Ellie to hurry as she transformed into wolf-form. They must have sensed her
urgency, because they transformed and kept pace with her as she plunged into
the forest.

Behind them, three other wolves ran, while
scanning the forest around them. They must be looking for the hunter. Starr
allowed her focus to shift from the danger in the forest to the jeopardy in the
castle. They had to hurry. She knew that instinctively.

Chapter 7

Lucian watched anxiously as Golatia bent
over Sorin, still in wolf-form, to examine his wound. He was barely aware of
the presence of the others in the room. The Lupae hovered near the doorway of
the cabin where they had brought Sorin, alongside Sorin’s sister, Lia. Her
mates had accompanied Starr to the castle to warn Anca, and he wondered why she
hadn’t gone with them. Did she still harbor some sort of familial emotion for
her estranged sibling?

He tensed when the old woman picked up a
straight razor and waved it at a girl he didn’t recognize, but appeared to be
assisting her. His hackles rose, and he braced himself to intercept any
attempts to cut Sorin. To his surprise, the woman handed the razor to the girl
and looked up at him, as if reading his thoughts.

She gave him a small smile. “We must be
able to see the wound, so the fur around it has to be removed. My eyesight is
not what it once was. I don’t want to knick the boy while shaving around the
area.”

He relaxed slightly, but remained alert as
the girl scraped away the thick fur obscuring the wound. He tensed with Sorin
when she worked some of the matted pelt out of the bloody mess. That must have
hurt, as evidenced by his lover’s brief bout of thrashing, which quickly
subsided once the girl moved away.

Sorin groaned as Golatia probed the wound,
making Lucian tense. He battled with the urge to protect Sorin from those
gathered around him, knowing they wouldn’t have come to their aid if the Pack meant
to do them harm.

Still, old habits and emotions were
difficult to overcome, and he remained rigid as Golatia took a bowl from the
girl and dipped a clean cloth in it, before cleansing the wound. Sorin
flinched, and Lucian bit down the reflex to gag when the smell of the thick
green mixture wafted to his nose.

“Should you remove the arrow?” he asked
gruffly.

The old woman shook her head. “Not yet. The
bleeding must finish before I take the arrow, because it will surely begin
again, when the silver comes out. I want to heal as much of the surrounding
area as possible first.”

Lucian stood sentry as Golatia continued to
daub the wound with the foul-smelling brew, continuously turning the cloth to
reveal a clean section as Sorin’s blood stained the rest of the cloth. Halfway
through the process, she took another cloth from her assistant to begin the
procedure anew. Sorin’s groans subsided to occasional grunts of pain, allowing
Lucian to slowly relax.

Golatia nodded her head and folded the
white cloth before placing it in the mixture. “The wound has healed, except for
the area around the silver arrowhead. I am surprised the mixture worked so
quickly, as silver poisoning generally requires many hours of tending…with
mixed results.” A hint of sadness flashed across her wrinkled face, and she
gently patted Sorin’s slack paw.