Bloodright (23 page)

Had Lucien just been run over by a Mack truck it would have hurt less than Falon’s words. What he knew he must do would kill him. “Falon,” he slowly said pulling her into his arms. “I have something I need to say.” He looked at his brother and saw his entire world slip away. Because in Falon he had found his place and after what he was going to say, she would no longer belong to him. “Rafe, can we speak in private?”

“Make it quick; those Slayers won’t party all night.”

“It will take only a minute.”

With Falon in his arms, knowing what he must do, Lucien turned away from prying eyes and ears. He would tell them only that he released Rafe from his vow and he forgave his brother for his hand in Mara’s death. The blood feud would end when he returned Falon to her rightful chosen one. He would leave out the part about killing Mara. He would let that sleeping dog lie, but he would not live the lie with Falon. He could not. It would eat him up and destroy what he held so precious.

Just as they reached the edge of the clearing they had gathered in, Lucien’s nostrils twitched. He looked at Rafe and knew he smelled it, too.

Slayers.

The party was over.

Eleven

THE STENCH OF approaching Slayers punctuated the heavy night air.

As they rejoined the pack, nervous excitement riveted through Falon, followed by an infusion of power. Just as it had when she and Lucien had attacked the Vipers. Only this was different. Stronger.
Magical.

“They’re armed with automatic rifles and short swords,” Lucien said. “We’ll have a better chance if we shift and come up behind them.”

With the exception of Anton, who was quickly reloading the Berserkers’ packs, they all shifted. The pack split and stealthily fanned out, making a wide half circle on either side of the incoming Slayers. Falon found herself between the brothers, with Lucien leading the way.

Throat first, disarm, then kill,
Lucien said.

Anticipating the primal satisfaction of sinking her fangs into a Slayer’s throat, Falon growled low and nudged Lucien. He turned and nipped at her, then licked her nose, his golden eyes sparking like candles in the darkness. The quickening in him matched hers. Singularly, they were formidable. Together, they were unbeatable.

Heads down, ears flicking back and forth to catch the slightest sound, their noses twitching to keep on scent, they closed ranks, tightening their bloodthirsty net. But nothing happened. They came up empty. The scent had evaporated, as if the Slayers were never there. The hair on the back of Falon’s neck rose. She sensed they were near. But where?

Where the hell are they?
Rafe demanded.

They’ve hidden their scent with magik,
Lucien said.

A branch above Falon’s head snapped.

The trees!

Dropping to the ground like ninjas, the Slayers opened fire.

Retreat!
Lucien ordered.

Falon snarled furiously, wanting to stand and fight but knowing it was suicide. As she dove into a thicket, the hot sting of a bullet grazed her right flank. She turned with Lucien and Rafe on either side of her and hunkered down into the thick brush. Adrenaline pumped through her. Every sense open, aware—ready.

Stripped down to a one-on-one fight, the true advantage lay with the Lycan. Not only could they see as sharply in the dark as the Slayers saw in the daylight, Lycan were quicker, and despite their lack of firepower, deadlier. But tonight, the automatic weapons held the advantage. For the moment.

Lucien snarled.

What?
Falon asked.

Ian Corbet. Balor’s eldest son,
Rafael answered for both brothers.
The prick was just a kid when his father and uncles murdered our parents. He’s followed true in his father’s vicious footsteps.

Ian is mine,
Lucien hissed.

“I smell your bitch, Vulkasin!” Corbet taunted as he strode boldly into a shallow clearing.

As his uncle Edward, Ian Corbet sported the same tall, athletic build, blond hair, and intense blue eyes that branded a Corbet a mile away. The same uncle Falon killed last month when Rafael lay at death’s door. The threat to Rafael had forced her to shift for the first time. It was only in the moments before she ripped Edward Corbet’s heart out that Falon discovered what she was. Lycan. And a bitch of a Lycan.

Falon snarled. Ian Corbet had no idea what a bitch she was.

Though Corbet’s men surrounded him in a tight circle, their guns pointed toward them in the darkness, Falon had a clear view of the arrogant Slayer.

“Or should I say, Mondragon?” Corbet threw his head back and laughed. “Let me settle your feud over the bitch! I’ll fuck her and make her a true Corbet.”

Lucien’s anger radiated like fire from him. Beside her, Rafael’s flared, equally violent.

Do not fall into his trap,
Lucien,
Rafe warned.

Lucien answered with a low snarl as he slowly moved in on the tight circle.

Stay with Angor,
Lucien directed as she fell in behind him.

I will not!
She moved up alongside of him and touched his neck with her nose.
My place is beside you.

Falon,
Rafe growled,
listen to Lucien.

You forget, Rafael, who killed Edward,
Falon snapped, cutting off any further attempts to keep her “safe.” As they continued to move forward, Falon asked the brothers,
If Corbet is destroyed, will the remaining Slayers run?

Normally, yes, but out here they know if they run, they don’t stand a chance,
Lucien said.
So they will stand and fight.

We’ll use the two crossbows in Angor’s leather pack to take out Corbet,
Rafael said.
There’s a dozen silver-tipped arrows in one of the packs. Between us, we’ll get a kill shot. When Corbet goes down the soldiers will panic, and we’ll pick them off.

Lucien nodded, adding,
As they regroup, we’ll send in the Berserkers to loosen them up some more, then we go in for the final kills.

His men have closed ranks around him. He’s packed tighter than a sardine. You’ll never get the kill shot,
Falon said.

Watch,
Rafe said, then called to Angor, the mutant wolf that appeared instantly. The three of them simultaneously shifted and got to work. Rafe took the crossbows from the packs, handing one to Lucien; the other he kept for himself.

“You picked a good night to die, Corbet,” Lucien shouted.

“That remains to be seen, Mondragon!” Corbet returned.

Fascinated, Falon watched her alphas. In tandem, Lucien and Rafael notched the arrows in their respective bows.

The last time I hunted with one of these, Rafe, was the last time we went north.

You dropped that grizzly with one shot to the heart. It took me three to ground mine.

Lucien grinned.
I was always a better shot than you.

Simultaneously, they raised the bows. Falon’s heart pounded with excitement and something else. Hope? Was it possible for these two proud men to reconcile?

I’ll bet you Angor that my arrow hits that prick center mass,
Lucien challenged.

Rafe set his face to his sight as Lucien set his to his.
I’d be a fool to take that bet.

Despite witnessing the bond that had been forged in their mother’s womb, a bond that despite everything that had transpired between the brothers still existed, as the brothers took a trip down memory lane, Falon’s anxiety rose to a hazardous level.
Hello! There are armed Slayers pointing machine guns at us,
she cried.

Not for long,
Lucien and Rafe said at the same time. Then pulled the triggers.

Falon watched in awe as the arrows struck true. Both center mass. Corbet’s body flew backward into two of his men. A violent barrage of bullets answered.

Rafe and Lucien shoved Falon to the ground and pulled her backward behind a thick clump of bush. But not fast enough that she didn’t catch a bullet in the shoulder. She bit back a hiss of pain.

Once the hail of bullets ended, heavy silence blanketed the clearing.

Then laughter.

“Touché, boys,” Corbet taunted.

What the fuck?

Three heads popped up over the thicket.

Corbet held the two arrows in his hand. “I will thank my armorer for a job well done! Now, what else do you have before we mow you down?”

Frustration tore through Falon, and with it, a surge of energy. Her shoulder ached like hell and unless they were going to run like cowards, they were going to lose lives fighting this Mexican standoff. Something drastic needed to happen.

Her blood scent wafted in the air.

You’re hit!
Lucien said, touching the hole in her shoulder.

Rafe’s worried gaze settled on her. She felt his need to comfort her, but he held back.

It’s nothing,
she assured them both.

But she lied. The silver bullet burned like hell, burrowing deeper into her shoulder like a termite in wood. She gasped in pain, falling backward. Rafael grabbed her right hand, Lucien her left. Her body stiffened as lightning bolts of energy shot from their bodies into hers. Their hands burned hot, their connection unbreakable. Like quicksilver the charge burned through her, infusing her muscles, bones, and veins with power. The heat of the energy stung along her veins, leaving a warm thrum in its wake. Wide-eyed, Falon stared at Lucien’s and Rafael’s equally shocked expressions.

The Eye of Fenrir on Rafael’s hand flared red-hot. Lucien’s hand, grasping hers, flared with the same intense heat. Her body convulsed. Her head ached. She could not breathe.

Falon!
Lucien called to her as she closed her eyes.

She opened her mouth to answer but could not speak. Like a hurricane building steam over warm waters, energy surged in her chest. Her body thrummed with power, and just as she relived the bullet entering her, she saw it in her mind’s eye tearing out of her shoulder.

A man’s scream punctuated the still air.

Falon’s eyes flashed open.
What happened?

Still clasping her hand, Rafael peered over the brush to the Slayers.
You dropped one!

How?

The bullet! It went home.
Lucien laughed.
Holy shit. That was amazing.

Dazed, Falon shrugged the shoulder the bullet had entered and exited. Not an inkling of pain. Stunned she looked from Lucien to Rafe. Still connected with both men, the energy continued to thrum through her.
All I did was wish it back where it came from.

Lucien kissed her soundly on the lips.
Keep those thoughts, baby!

Making sure it wasn’t some kind of fluke, Falon released Rafael’s hand, then Lucien’s. The heat subsided, but the energy hummed within her.
Go for Corbet’s head this time,
Falon said, standing.

Get down,
Rafael hissed, pulling her back to the ground. Instinctively she flung his hand away with more force than she intended. He went flying back several yards, staring dumbfounded up at her from the ground. She offered no apology. Rafe was well aware of the power that surged within her when she was pissed or threatened.

Until she was provoked to use it, it lay dormant. She was not going to question why it surged the way it had when she became aware of the Slayers or why it had exploded when she was connected to both alphas. What she was going to do was take full advantage of it for as long as she had it.

It was her turn to protect the pack, and she would accept no interference from anyone. She was on fire. Her senses clear and honed so sharply she could see the beads of sweat on Corbet’s upper lip. Smell the terror on his men. Hear the frantic pump of their hearts forcing more blood into their veins for what they instinctively knew was going to be their last night on earth.

Falon turned to Lucien and said,
I’ve got this.

Before her intent registered, she strode fearlessly toward the Slayers. “You want to fuck me, Corbet?” Falon challenged, striding boldly toward the shocked Slayers. “Then come and get me.”

Falon!
Lucien yelled going after her. She flung her hand back, stopping him.

Damn it, woman! Listen to me.

She shook her head and kept walking. Corbet was hers.

Holy fuck!
Rafael hissed.
How can you allow her to do this?
he demanded of his brother.

Have you ever tried to stop her from doing what she’s hell-bent on?

Fuck!

When Corbet did not respond to her taunt, Falon shouted, “Cowardly, Corbet!” as she emerged from the thick cover of brush and trees.

She approached the tightening circle of battle-ready Slayers surrounding him. As was their custom, they looked like they had just stepped out of thirteenth-century England. Only these boys were armed with automatic weapons instead of swords and arrows. Warily they watched her approach. She smiled when their eyes dipped to her breasts then lower to her hips, and lower still to her smooth mons.

“I am only half Lycan,” she purred to Corbet, who ducked behind his men. “There is nothing written that a Slayer cannot lie with a half-Lycan, is there?” She held up her arms in offering. “Come and take me if you are man enough,” Falon taunted.

Ten feet separated her from the closest Slayer. When his greedy eyes dropped to her chest, lightning quick, she grabbed him and flung him on his ass with just a flick of her wrist. Placing her bare foot on his chest, she plucked his gun from his hands and tossed it over her shoulder, then kicked him backward into the brush. His screams as Angor tore him apart set the hair on her neck on end. But she didn’t let a little thing like that stop her. She was queen bitch, and she was going to wreck shop on these sons of bitches.

She smiled coyly. “Anyone else care to try me?”