Blood Bond (11 page)

“The vampire with them put some of her
blood in the wound,” Lia said, as she stepped closer.

“Clever,” Golatia said. She looked up at
Lucian. “You will have to remove the arrow. My hands aren’t strong or nimble
enough to pull it out quickly, and I do not want to cause Sorin unnecessary
pain.”

He nodded, feeling nauseated at the
prospect, as he grasped the broken shaft of the arrow and waited for Golatia’s
signal. He swallowed down his queasiness and tried not to think about the pain
Sorin would feel when the arrow came out. His hands felt slippery, and he
tightened his grasp. The old woman lifted the cloth and placed it under the
wound. When he saw her nod, he wrenched the arrow free from Sorin’s side with
one tug.

The amount of blood pouring from the wound
horrified him, and he turned away under the auspices of disposing of the silver
arrowhead safely, so that none in the Pack would accidentally be injured by it.
By the time he turned back, after wrapping the silver in a soiled cloth and
placing it in a wooden box it would be burned in, Golatia had covered the wound
with a new cloth, soaked in the healing potion.

He could read her apprehension by the set
of her shoulders and the expression on her face. It was obvious she was
worried, and he didn’t miss her sound of distress when she replaced the cloth
with another from the stack held by the girl. She didn’t look at Lucian as
Sorin’s wound soaked two more cloths in five minutes, but finally met his eyes
when her assistant handed her the last cloth before going to fetch more.

“He’s losing a lot of blood, Lucian.”

He swallowed and struggled to sound calm,
but his voice broke. “Can you save him?” The fear in the old woman’s eyes shook
him.

“I do not know. Sorin’s mother was the
healer, not I.” Golatia turned her gaze to Lia, beckoning her forward. There
was no hesitation in the younger woman as she hurried forward. “Lia, did you
ever learn anything of healing? What would your mother have done?”

Lia’s mouth twisted. “My mother would have
let Sorin die.”

Lucian flinched. He prepared himself to
force Sorin’s sister to assist him, but she spoke again before he could move.

“Mother was a fool and let her stupid pride
cost her many things.” Lia’s tone changed from bitter to confident. “I believe
she would have used an infusion of rose bay, knapweed, and Echinacea. To that,
she would add the blood of a family member.” She spoke matter-of-factly, but
there was an expression of doubt on her face. “I can try to make it.”

Lucian’s eyes widened. “You would do that
for him?”

She frowned at him. “He is my brother.” She
blinked. “I do not know if I can make this mixture correctly. Mother did not
write down her potions, so all I have is vague memories of her treatments.”

The girl assisting Golatia returned with a
fresh stack of cloths. The older woman looked up from replacing the soaked
cloth to say, “You must try, Lia. It is better to attempt to save him than do
nothing.”

Lia nodded and hurried from the cabin,
appearing as anxious as Lucian felt while he watched the blood soaking through
the cloth once again.

He began to pace around the confines of the
small room, avoiding eye contact with Davinia, Golatia, and the girl he heard
them call Clara. From time to time, he paused in his pacing to check Sorin’s
wound. It still bled freely. He was certain he was going quietly mad as the
time passed without Lia reappearing.

His thoughts turned to Starr and how she
needed him with her, but he found those thoughts distressing too. In truth, he
felt useless. He couldn’t do anything to help Sorin, but he didn’t want to
leave him alone in Necheau. He could offer no assistance to Starr, being so far
away from her. He had to place trust in her safety with members of the Pack. It
was a bitter pill to swallow, as he had spent the last six years hating the
Pack and everything to do with it.

His morose thoughts scattered when Lia
finally returned carrying a large wooden bowl. When she placed it on the small
table beside the bed where Sorin lay, Lucian saw a cloth wrapped around her
wrist. Some of her blood had stained the bright white strip. When she dipped a
fresh cloth in the infusion she had brought, he saw it was a scarlet color,
indicating a generous amount of her blood was in the mix.

Golatia removed the soiled cloth soaked
with Sorin’s blood, and Lia pressed the one she held against the wound. To
Lucian’s surprise, Sorin’s body relaxed. He felt a moment of fear as his eyes
closed, thinking his lover had died, but was reassured when Sorin twitched. Lia
removed the cloth to dip it back into the mixture, and Lucian’s eyes widened
when he saw the wound had begun healing already.

It didn’t take long for the wound to stop
weeping blood and scab over with the infusion Lia dabbed on it continuously. He
felt almost lightheaded with relief when she wrung out the cloth over the
wound, replaced it in the wooden bowl, and said, “The potion is working. The
wound won’t completely disappear until he is able to transform a few times, but
he will live.”

Lucian didn’t doubt it. Already, Sorin’s
ragged breathing had eased, suggesting peaceful sleep, rather than
unconsciousness. As relief filled him, Lucian’s thoughts turned from concern
for Sorin to revenge. Whoever had injured Sorin would pay for what they had done.
He would not stand by uselessly even a moment longer.

No one tried to talk him out of leaving
Necheau to investigate the forest for signs of whoever had been tracking them.
Lucian didn’t know if it was because they thought he should search, or if
perhaps his air of raw rage made them shy away from trying to reason with him.
He didn’t care which it was right then. All he could focus on was punishing the
hunter who had injured his lover and forced Starr to face unknown danger
without her mates by her side.

* * * * *

Starr and the werewolves accompanying her
reached the castle a little more than an hour after setting off together. The
werewolves had set a frantic pace that left her breathless, though they seemed
barely affected.

She kept her eyes focused on the tower
where Anca and Demi slept as they rushed across the courtyard. They encountered
no one as they entered the castle, but it was the middle of the night. She
tried not to worry about the lack of activity as she led the others up the
winding staircases, through the wings of the castle, and up to the tower room
of the queen and king.

Starr hesitated at the doorway of their
room, wondering how she should proceed. If her sense of timing were off, she
would be bursting in and needlessly putting them in a panic. One didn’t simply
push open the door to the queen’s chamber and rush inside, shouting dire
warnings.

Undecided, Starr transformed to human-form,
barely aware of her lack of clothing, and knocked on the door. Her senses urged
her to dispense with politeness, but she knocked again, waiting a few seconds
for a response. She knocked louder, but again, no one answered the door.

She closed her eyes and placed her palm
flat against the wood worn smooth with the passage of time. Starr tuned out the
presence of the wolves behind her, who were in various states of assuming their
human forms. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on what was happening
behind the door.

She searched with her mind, seeking the
reassuring presence of either the Protector or her lifemate. Any sort of
response—even anger at an unwarranted probing of their minds—would have been a
relief.

She strained mentally, but couldn’t receive
a vision, nor connect with either Anca or Demi. She struggled to relax and
allowed her thoughts to turn to the erotic moments she had spent in Sorin and
Lucian’s arms, hoping the rush of sexual energy would increase her mental
abilities, as it had done exponentially earlier that night.

Her lips parted with a soft gasp as she
imagined Lucian cupping her breast in his hand, while thumbing the hardened
nipple. Sorin’s phantom fingers toyed with her swollen clit, causing moisture
to leak down her thighs. Her breathing grew ragged, and her eyes moved rapidly
under her lids.

As she remembered the sensation of having
both cocks penetrate her simultaneously, an image formed in her mind. It was
dark, and someone stood over a bed. At first, she thought it was a memory of
being at the cabin, but as her body recalled the way Lucian and Sorin had made
love to her, the vision crystallized.

A woman stood over the bed of Anca and
Demi, who were bound by some invisible force. It was the same image Starr had
seen earlier, but now clarified. She gasped when she realized who the assailant
was, as she opened her eyes to look at the door. It couldn’t be, but it was.
How had she escaped the little-known prison in the Ukraine and made her way
back to Corsova? How had she entered the country? More importantly, was Nikia
with her? Was that who had shot Sorin in the forest?

Sian held a dagger in her hand and wore an
expression of concern as she eyed the door. She must know Starr was on the
other side, and her hand suddenly shot up, grasping the dagger firmly, and
preparing to plunge it into Anca’s heart.

Starr cried out as the dagger started to
lower, and she began to push frantically against the locked door. Rica and the
other two men pushed her aside and threw their weight against the wooden door.
Even as it splintered against the force and formed a hole large enough to allow
Rica to reach inside to unbolt the door, Starr knew they wouldn’t make it in
time to prevent Sian from stabbing Anca.

* * * * *

The pain in his side awakened Sorin. It
radiated up into his chest with a hot, pulsing rhythm that had him gritting his
teeth. At least his head was clear, and he immediately recognized where he was
when he opened his eyes. A rush of conflicting emotion assailed him when he saw
the familiar interior of his mother’s home. No, not Belia’s home now, because
she was dead, killed with her lover during their bid to seize power.

He turned his head when he caught the scent
of another in the room with him. His eyes widened when he recognized his
sister. He had seen her briefly during his return to Necheau to warn the Pack
about the anthropologist, but had not truly looked at her. He was amazed how
mature she looked, but her eyes were the same ones he remembered from her
childhood. Only now, they held concern and weariness that hadn’t been reflected
there the last time he saw them, right before his relationship with Lucian was
discovered.

She smiled at him, and some of the grimness
left her expression. “You are awake. How do you feel?”

He grunted a response, uncertain how he
should respond. “What am I doing here?”

“The Pack brought you. Lucian came to ask
for help.” Lia frowned. “At first, Rica seemed like he would refuse, but the
Lupina didn’t let him. She insisted we help, and those of us willing to do so
accompanied Lucian through the forest, to where your mate waited with you.”

The knowledge they had come to his aid was
unsettling. Even more so was knowing he would probably be dead by now if the
anthropologist he and Lucian had tried to keep out of Corsova hadn’t forced the
issue. He cleared his throat and attempted to dismiss the foreign emotion of
gratitude to anyone in the Pack. “Where are Lucian and Starr?”

“Starr has gone on to the castle to warn
your queen of danger.” Lia grimaced. “Lucian has left to find the hunter
lurking in our forests. Shortly after he left, other members realized we could
all be in danger if there is a hunter using silver, and many left to aid in the
search.”

Sorin sat up, wincing at the fiery
sensation in his side. “I must get to Starr. She’ll need me.”

Lia touched his arm, trying to ease him
back to a prone position. “A werewolf escort accompanied her. Your mate will be
fine.”

He shook his head. He wasn’t the kind of
man to lie around while others faced danger. When his sister again tried to
ease him down, he shoved her away. “Get out of my way.”

Her eyes sparkled with a hint of anger.
“Stop being so stubborn. You can’t help anyone in your current state. You need
to rest, to gain your strength for transforming, to speed healing.”

Sorin ignored Lia’s words and tried to
stand up. He grunted when her weight hit him from the side, and he fell back
into the bed. He stared up at her with wide eyes, recognizing the glint of
determination in her eyes. It was one he often saw in his own, when glancing in
a mirror. He was startled to note other similarities in their facial shape, and
something indefinable that instantly pointed to them being related.

With an almost vicious jab, she touched his
wound, causing him to draw in a breath. “How far do you think you could get,
brother? You’re staying right here. You will cause those who care about you
needless worry if you go traipsing off into the forest in your weakened state.”

He allowed his tense muscles to relax. An
unbidden question escaped him, before he could call it back. “Are you among
those who would care, sister?”

She frowned. “Of course. You are my
brother.”

He felt a lump forming in his throat and
tried to ignore it. “Do you still consider me so?”