Lycan Alpha Claim 3 (129 page)

Clara looked at him.

He stepped forward, and it would have been more comfortable had they been touching, but he kept himself uncomfortably close, without contact. “You do not know.”

She nodded.
She did not. But she must be fair. Charles was her friend, but he had proven something this day, that they
could
be more. But the heart felt as it would, without sense or direction. And the Band were not males who intellectualized. They were instinctual.

She looked back at the window, as did Clarence and Charles. Their tempers cooled, following her gaze.

Looking at the face that stared down at her, a mirror of her own, Clara knew that she had much to seek
,
many questions that needed answers. But not this day.

This day was filled with conversation with the Band and their president. In the morrow, she traveled.

CHAPTER 36

Clara stood with half her royal guard before the new portal that had been fashioned over the gaping wound of the sphere tunnel.

Curiously, the ragged edges of the sphere had begun to grow around the brass perimeter framework. She looked upon it and gauged it to be eight feet high by twelve feet in length. The doors were made of solid brass and fitted with pearls in the emblem of the sphere.

They were so heavy that they slid upon runners of brass. When closed, there were great, built-in locks in the bottom corners to secure them.

Clara did not know if the
fragment
was aware of the spheres’ saltwater weakness as the clan had been. Their scouts thought not. But one could not be too careful.

“My Queen,” Clarence asked as both statement and question.

Clara nodded. She was ready. The portal doors took three guards to slide open. As the Outside was revealed, Clara took a deep breath and left the safety inside the womb of the sphere.

****

Clara stood nervously before the entire clan, a contingent of her royal guard at her back, the circumstances entirely different than when she had but dallied here briefly with Anna and Lillian. She searched the faces of the crowd until she found Jack and Lillian, who smiled at her, and she returned it. Then her eyes came upon Joseph and Anna and there seemed to be a tension there. Before she could think on it, President Bowen came out and introduced Clara. Would she ever get used to the title of Queen? She thought not.

The Band stood to the right of Bowen, their backs ramrod straight, their expressions neutral, a backdrop of contained menace.

Bowen spoke. “As you are all aware, the Evil Ones left a portentous book of sorts that cataloged some of the events of this time, and we have, by necessity, had to act upon some of the suppositions therein.”

Clara could see that they were aggrieved to do so.

Bowen outlined the rules of the testing. This so incensed Clarence that he had wrapped his hand around her upper arm and furiously whispered in her ear. She shook her head. She would allow it. They were a different culture. There were some concessions to be made.

Clarence went against her wishes, speaking directly to Bowen. “She cannot be expected to kiss each one? She is a Queen, not a common trollop!” Clarence sputtered, throwing up his hands and huffing.

“Clarence,” Clara said with ringing authority, hating what she was about to do but realizing that she must, “you must stand down.”

He stared at her.

“That is a royal directive,” she finished quietly.

He came to stand before her and she met his eyes. Clara knew that she must set a precedence here, now, so that her authority would be respected. She was uncomfortable to do so, but she had her duty.

Clarence relented, adding a muttered, “I will remain here.”

That was as good as she would get from him
, she thought.

The Band came forward: Bracus, Matthew, Jacob, James, Stephen, Philip—looking quite well healed she noticed—and Joseph. Clara swallowed the lump in her throat and sought out Anna, who looked back at her calmly. Clara was suddenly much more awkward than before. Only Jack remained, already mated to Lillian, whom he held against him.

She felt no accusation from Anna. But in her heart, she felt sadness.

Clara stepped forward and stood in the place that they had indicated. A groundwork of curiously beautiful stones were made in a pattern inside a circle, which looked vaguely star-like in its design. She turned briefly and looked at Bowen with a silent question.

“It has been assembled as written.”

Ah,
Clara thought,
the book from the Guardians
. She stepped inside the circle, and it seemed to hum with independent energy, a symbol whose weight she felt in her limbs, running through her in a low thrumming buzz. She should have felt fear, but instead that curious energy stilled her.

James swaggered into the six foot diameter circle, his feet passing its perimeter and he almost stumbled, as surprised as she had been by the effect.

He quickly regained his composure and approached her.

They stared at each another. He tried to remain polite, but already she could see desire pooling in his eyes, and Clara knew before he moved that he would touch her. She felt the wind from his body, every small hair standing on end, as he wrapped her close to him, smelling of pine and earth and male. His arms were bands of steel as he pressed her against him, and when his lips touched hers there was a jolt, shot through with the kind of spark one feels right after the sphere's cleansing, and it is dry and you touch a knob of brass. It almost hurt, and she gasped. They pulled away, only a brushing of lips, no true passion.

The disappointment on James's face was obvious. He looked at Bowen and shook his head. Looking at Clara, he inclined his head in the barest of bows and retraced his steps out of the circle.

Clara rubbed her hands up and down her arms. That had been disquieting.

There was more to the testing than she’s

realized.

****

Clara was tired. Her lips were numb from being kissed, quite thoroughly, by both Jacob and Stephen with similar, jolting, and somewhat painful results. And it helped not that the one male she might
enjoy kissing was last and waiting on the barest edge of the stone perimeter with anger riding his body.

He did not like other men handling her
.

Joseph was next, coming to her as though he would rather be anywhere but here in this ring, and she had great sympathy for him and Anna.

They came together awkwardly. He reached for her, and keeping his body away from hers, he leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss on her lips. The barest pressure, and a spark ignited that licked like a flame and spread.

Joseph's eyes widened in surprise, and almost as if he could not help himself, he pulled her against him and with a low groan he began to feed on her mouth all the while fighting it. Clara responded, her hands finding their way around his neck, But because of his size, she simply could not meet them. He pressed her lips once more and forcibly pushed her away. She almost stumbled but caught herself. He looked at her with a mixture of disquiet and soft horror.

He was Band
.
He was not commanded by causal lust. This Queen had stirred something deep within him that he wished not to recognize. Joseph backed away, while his body fought him to get back to her. He all but ran out of the circle and away from Clara.

That left Philip, his brother Bracus, and Matthew. She looked behind her at Clarence, who scowled back.

Marvelous.

Bracus clapped Philip on the back, and he approached her. “Queen Clara.” He inclined his head.

“Philip,” she said, noticing his side was without scar. “You are healed.”

He nodded. “It is always such with the Band.”

Then he pulled her to him and the moment their lips touched the heat came upon them and his eyes snapped open. He pulled her closer. As the largest of the Band, he had to awkwardly maneuver her around until his hand found her hair, and then he wrapped his fist in it, with his arm he lifted her off the ground.

“Philip!” President Bowen interceded.

He pulled his head away, his breathing harsh and stared down at Clara, eyes gone wide with shock and surprise.

Two of Clara's guard entered the circle and he turned in a crouch, jerking her against himself and growled at the guards.

Growled.

“Get back,” Clara said with a tremor in her voice. It was one thing to see the Band fight from a distance and quite another to be intimately pressed against one of them.

Bracus did not cross the border of stone but said in a low, clear voice, “Let her down, brother.” He put a palm out in supplication.

They stared at each other for a long moment, his forearm jammed  underneath Clara's ribs, her body against him, heat coming off his body in waves.

Gradually, he lowered her to the ground and said, “I will not look upon you now, Clara. I fear it may be my undoing.”

He backed away from her and made his way outside the stone perimeter. It was only when he exited that he looked at her, a sheen of sweat coating his face and arms.

Clara stood alone in the circle, wondering when it would be over. Matthew and Bracus paced outside the border, never taking their eyes off each other.

When Bracus crossed the border of stone, her body reacted with a dizzying rush of power, rising up out of the ground and flowing up her as if she were plunged in water. And he had not yet touched her.

Everyone close to the border gasped at the reaction, and Bracus's face changed. He did not approach tentatively, but like a man drowning. He came for her almost at a dead run, and she fought to remain where she was, telling herself that he had never offered her harm.

She had not considered what it looked like to her guards, who swarmed the circle when their Queen was threatened.

However, they came too late. Bracus was upon her and snatched her up, taking her by the thighs and lifting her right to his mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck. His mouth was all over hers with bruising force. She opened it for him, and still he pressed his lips down harder, making her gasp. He took that as encouragement, and with one hand under her legs, he forced her head to meet his. She leaned into it so her neck was not broken.

With him kissing her that way, Clara could not think. She could hear
the guards trying to pull him off her. It was about then that Clara realized she could no longer breathe and began to feel dizzy with her mouth pressed to Bracus's straining to reach him at the same time her breath was not coming.

Strong arms grasped Clara, and she saw Bracus's eyes open. Lifting his head, he roared in a primal bellow, throwing three of the guard off his back and dropping Clara. But Clara did not fall. Instead, she was turned in one fluid motion.

It was Matthew.

He kissed her, and the whole world melted away. It was only Matthew in a searing fire, washing away every other sound, noise and tactile sensation except his lips and hands roaming her body. Matthew was raggedly panting, his hands moving everywhere they could, her shoulders, her waist, skimming the sides of her breasts, moving to each side of her jaw, his hands overlapping into the hair by her temples, his lips eating at her like a man starved.

She was torn away from him, and she only needed to see Matthew's expression to know who held her.

The two men roared at each other and Bracus shoved Clara behind his back and charged Matthew, who used his momentum against Bracus. Taking the sprint full tilt, grabbing Bracus's forearm and swinging him in the direction he was running, stepping out a laced boot and throwing him as he tripped, Bracus flew several feet into a landing roll.

He popped up off the ground and swung around to charge when President Bowen yelled, “Clara! Leave the circle.”

Clara needed no urging. She lifted her skirts, and skimming the ground she ran the five feet to the edge with both men chasing her down. She did not turn but kept running.

They were upon her in no time, one grabbing each arm. And she looked at them both, fear choking her.

Suddenly, Philip was there and spoke directly to Bracus. “My brother, have a care. Would you tear her asunder?”

They all stood there quietly, Matthew's chest heaving, his grip on Clara almost bruising in its intensity.

Clara watched sanity gradually begin to seep into eyes that but a moment ago had been wild.

Bracus loosened his hold and his hand dropped from her arm. Matthew loosened his crushing grip but did not drop his hand.

President Bowen strode over and bowed. “I cannot apologize enough for this, Queen Clara. We have not had a rite in many years.”

Bowen was visibly tense, but it was Clara who spoke with the royal guard at her elbow surrounding Philip, Bracus, and Matthew, “I gave my word that I would cooperate in this, and I did. I have not suffered injury.”

However, it was the oddest thing she had ever participated in.

She could feel Matthew's warm presence at her back, and Bracus's eyes never left her. She would have quite a row to hoe with these men.

Bowen said, “We have seen what has happened here.” The people murmured amongst themselves, but he continued and the conversations died away. He held up his hand. “There will be two who will court Queen Clara. We will put this to a vote. As we are all aware, a secure union between our peoples is very important. A
select
guarantees offspring and other benefits.”

What were those?
Clara wondered.
She felt a trifle insulted, as if she were a special oyster in the field that they would cross breed for a rare color. “President Bowen, there were four of the Band who had an unusual reaction to my person. In that group, two were most profound. A vote is acceptable, but it does not determine who I shall choose.”

There was a great silent heartbeat of total silence, and then Bowen, with grudging admiration said, “As the Queen says, so shall it be.”