Blood of the Wolf (11 page)

He held back his growl of frustration. It would do no good to frighten the woman. “We won’t hurt him,” he promised.
Not purposely, anyway.
“And when we leave we will let you come with us.”

“Lucan!” Maks protested.

“We can’t let her out on her own,” he told his scion.

I don’t like it.

We have no choice. She won’t help us inside otherwise.

“Okay,” Amara said. She glanced at Maks, and Lucan saw interest in her gaze for the first time. Of course, Maks was still in human form, and she had his blood flowing through her for the moment. “We must hurry. Lord Tawren plans to join with your woman at dusk. If that happens, there is no hope for you.”

Fury gripped Lucan. No one would touch Meda! She was his!

Dial it back, Wolf, or even the Djinn-girl will hear your thoughts,
Maks chided.

“This way,” Amara said. She led the way deeper into the cave, and away from the door they’d been trying to get through. “There’s a less used door over the servants’ quarters.”

Should we trust her?
Maks asked.

Do we have a choice?
Lucan replied.

After a few minutes, she paused. “Remember you promised not to hurt anyone—though if you happen to maim Claive and cut off his inadequate member, I wouldn’t consider it a breach of our agreement.” She shook her head. “Trusting Dragons,” she muttered. “What next?”

Maks leaned close to her. “You know, I’ve been told you should never ask that.”

She lips turned up sadly then flattened as she pressed her hands to the wall. Slowly, a great panel of rock slid inward, revealing a narrow stand of stairs beyond. A faint green light glowed at the bottom.

“Follow the wall at the bottom of the steps. It will fork. The one to the right will lead you to the main gallery. Take it, but stay to the shadows. Follow the gallery wall to the left. Take the first passage. There will be two guards to get past, but that is Lord Tawren’s quarters.”

“Stay with her,” Lucan told Maks. One of them would have an easier time getting through undetected than two.

“Lucan, no!”

“I’ll stay in communication with you.”

Maks scowled, but didn’t disagree. With a sharp nod, he stepped back to allow Lucan unimpeded access.

Amara caught Lucan’s arm just before he stepped inside. Sickness plowed through him. It was as if no one could touch him but Meda. And he needed her more than life…

Beside him Maks growled. It was then, Lucan glanced down at the hand holding him. Filigree laced up it.

“Oh Maks,” he breathed, glancing at his scion’s arm.

Maks looked down at the same time. “Shit!”

Apparently, this was “what’s next”.

Amara yanked her hand away from him as if burned. Lucan watched in mesmerized fascination as Maks tugged her to his side. She gasped then blue fire blazed in her eyes as she looked up at him.

His hand buried in her hair and his mouth lowered to hers. Lucan coughed, and they both startled from their trance.

“Be careful,” Amara murmured, her eyes continually darting to Maks, her confusion obvious.

“Go,” Maks said. “Talk to me as you go, so I know you’re safe.” He turned back to Amara. “We need to get your clothes. I don’t want anyone seeing you naked. Then we have to come back here so I can help Lucan if necessary.” He growled. “I suddenly want to kill Claive.”

Now who needs to dial it back?
Lucan chided as he started down the stairs.

She’s my mate,
Maks grated through his mind.
Meda’s just your…

Mate,
Lucan asserted.
She’s my mate.

Chapter Eight

Leaving Maks and Amara, Lucan stealthily headed for the green glow at the foot of the stairs. There was no movement shadowing the light, but he worried about what he’d come upon at the landing.

As it turned out, the room was a kitchen and long deserted if the dust was any indicator. Amara had said to follow the wall. One direction ran to a corner; the other went through a doorway. Hoping he’d understood her, he crept along the path and through the opening. He found the green glow came from some substance in the walls and wondered if this section of the Djinns’ stronghold was unused. Everywhere dust and cobwebs hung in thick swaths.

Finally, he came to the fork. Heeding the directions he’d been given, he headed to the right. The walls emitted less light here. The further he moved, the more the illumination diminished under the soot that covered the surfaces. Deep shadows hid him, and the faint flickering of flames showed at the end of the passage. Someone had a fire in the gallery, but it wasn’t enough to fully brighten the whole space. Perfect.

Though he felt safer in Dragon form, he shifted. His human visage would be less noticeable.

Maks,
he called.

Are you all right?

Yes. Meda could hear your voice before. Try to direct your thoughts at her now that the door is open and see if she can hear you. Tell her I’m on my way.

He heard Maks trying to call her several times but with no response.
I think your blood’s worn out of her system,
Maks told him.

Lucan couldn’t help a small pulse of satisfaction though the development was inconvenient. He didn’t want Maks in Meda’s head. Still, it would have been helpful.

At the opening to the tunnel, he darted to the left as Amara had directed. So far everything she’d said had proved true. But he had yet to make the final turn. A trap could await him around the next corner.

Gathering his wits around him, he scanned the room. Several small fires had been built, with large groups of people around them. A bevy of Djinn danced and played instruments around the flames while those watching clapped. An array of colorful, swirling fabric reminded him of gypsies. He could fully imagine the scene taking place beneath a star-filled night with their caravan wagons waiting in the distance.

And everyone was occupied with the frivolity. A few serving women wove amongst the people, filling cups and doling out food. Everywhere, he spied shadows of couples making love as the celebration quickly moved toward sexual free-for-all. The tension from it hung heavy in the air, energy waiting to explode into action.

The Dragons never had anything so orgiastic, yet he could imagine him and Meda writhing amongst others, his cock deep in her as other bodies rubbed against them in their own sexual experiences.

Good heaven, he needed her
now.

As he watched, more and more Djinn split into groups around the fire. The sounds of passion grew as the coupling escalated. He suspected if someone yelled, no one would hear it or they’d think it was part of the sexual experience. Perfect.

Men seemed to outnumber the women. His hand rubbed over his cock at the sight of one woman between three men, the look on her face pure bliss. He wanted to see that expression on his own woman—not that he’d ever share her with one man let alone two. Breaking away from the sight before he further delayed his mission, he slipped closer to the final passage to Lord Tawren’s chamber.

Just as reported, two black-suited guards stood outside a doorway. The hideaway of an enemy. His destination in view, he assessed the challenge. One of the guards was engaged with a woman, obviously wishing he could be part of the celebration in the main gallery. Lucan wished he’d just go and join the others. Taking down one Djinn warrior would be easier than tangling with two.

Suddenly, a man in a tunic and loose pants came around the corner from the other direction. Gems glittered on his clothing as he walked. His eyes simmered light blue as he focused on the door. Stopping there, he spoke to the guards. A moment later, they headed Lucan’s direction while the man entered the room.

Lucan sank into the shadows, until they passed.

Of course. The Djinn thought their stronghold was safe. Meda was being guarded from other Djinn and from escape. With Tawren in residence, there was no need for guards. Obviously, he planned to be there for awhile, or he would have had them wait.

Rage twisted in his belly at the thought of Tawren—and he knew it must be—alone in the room with Meda. He hated this feeling, the hatred, the furious anger, the feeling he’d rip apart the man if he so much as breathed Meda’s air. He’d seen it in mates who hadn’t been joined yet—it was common in them—but he wasn’t marked. He’d never felt this possessive, territorial and filled with the need to be in her and taste her. He nearly shook with the desire. Anyone who claimed Meda wasn’t his mate was a fool.

He closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself. He had to get in the room then get out. He had no plan of escape. Unless he took out Tawren, the man would sound the alarm and all the Djinn would be on Lucan, not just the five who’d overcome him before.

Tawren had nearly killed him, and he’d stolen Meda. He deserved what he got.

* * * *

“I told you to prepare yourself!”

“I’m not one of your chattel to be ordered around. I am not and will not be your property,” Meda spat. She glared at Tawren, her jaw set and her arms crossed over her chest. His glower would not deter her. She wasn’t doing one thing to make this easy on him. And she knew the Dragons were nearby. Though she dared not hope Lucan was with them, she’d heard Maks’ voice in her head along with a bunch of gibberish about locks, strongholds, mates and blood. But somewhere in there, she’d heard “Wolf”. She knew of only one Dragon called that name.

Her blood throbbed anxiously through her, knowing she would soon be back to her rightful place—and what was that? Until Lucan had reappeared, she’d thought it was in Wyoming, teaching preschoolers. But what they’d said to one another in the cavern…she was supposed to be with him. She
wanted
to be with him. And she wanted to finally tell him that.

Her body fairly vibrated with her urgency to touch him once more.

Tawren shot out a lash of energy and dragged her to him. Cold pain cut through her body, and she knew he intended her to feel his power. Bile rose in her throat as his hard body pressed to her. His cock was rigid against her thigh. Releasing the band of power, his hands went to the buttons running from neck to waist of the red gown he’d given her.

She cried out as his icy fingertips touched her skin. Flailing, she fought him, her fists landing anywhere she could reach. He jerked her hard against the wall.

The hiss of fabric filled the room along with her scream as he shoved the dress down her arms and trapped them inside the material.

“Get it through your head,” he rasped. “You’re mine.”

“No,” she pleaded as his mouth pressed to her upper breast. Suddenly, a shadow darkened her vision, and Tawren was wrenched from her by the neck.

“No,” an irate voice growled, “get it through your head…” Tawren was slammed against the wall, forehead first. “She’s mine.”

“Lucan,” Meda gasped. “Oh my God, Lucan!”

He gave the Djinn another bang into the wall then dropped him. The man slumped unconscious to the floor. Meda and Lucan stared at each other breathing heavily. Even with Tawren unconscious beside them, she wanted nothing more than to jump Lucan.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered.

He gave her a lopsided smile. “Takes more than almost cutting off my head.”

Her eyes went wide.

“Tell you later,” he said. “We need to get out of here, then I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to fuck you until we can’t move.”

“Sounds perfect to me.” Divine. Her body softened at the thought of him entering her again soon.

His eyes darkened as he looked at her bared chest. “Are there other clothes here you can change into?” he asked.

“The gown he wanted me to wear for the joining.” She pointed at the garment still hanging over the chair.

“Perfect. Matches his clothes. Change while I do this then rip some strips from that dress you’re wearing now.” He groaned as he knelt beside the Djinn and started to undress him. “I’m so hard for you right now, getting out of here will be a challenge.”

“I hope you mean me, not him,” she laughed, spying a glimpse of joy for the first time since she’d been there.

Lucan chuckled. “You’ll pay for that.”

“I hope so.” Her mouth watered as she watched him undress then put on Tawren’s clothing. Thankfully, the loose design had enough room to accommodate his larger frame. The boots fit perfectly. In the shadows, Lucan would look just like Tawren.

As she finished changing, Lucan shifted to Dragon form. A spiral of flame burst from his mouth and he burned his clothing, leaving it in a pile of ashes beside the helpless Djinn. She watched mesmerized, seeing the way his scales glistened like muted emeralds beneath shiny coal. Both man and Dragon were beautiful in her eyes.

“Don’t want to help his escape,” Lucan said as he looked down at the naked man. Meda used the knife she’d stolen to rip thick strips from the red gown. She handed them to Lucan who gagged Tawren then bound his wrists and ankles. Since the man’s hands were so dangerous, he tied extra strips over them and up his arms to the elbows.