Prince of Shadows (7 page)

It was Martine who came to slip a supportive arm about her shoulders as the other women gathered around Michael’s mother. Her lovely face betrayed no sentiments as she said, “You’re one of us now, child.” One of the claimed and subjugated. “While they see to their business, let’s find you a place to stay.”

The place she and Cale would reside together as chosen mates.

Bram assumed his seat before the fire, his posture rigid with ill-contained anger at the stoic son standing before him. His other progeny had taken seats as silent witnesses.

“Tell me, boy, how you made such monumentally bad decisions without first coming to me for judgment.”

“There wasn’t time. I acted as you would have, to protect what was mine by right.”

“By right?
What
right?”

“You favored the match between me and Kendra. She’d chosen me and had come willing to my bed, just as she stood with me in the circle. Was I supposed to share what’s mine, allow my property to be stolen and abused? My brother, with three of his friends, attacked and would have taken
my
female against her will, disrespecting me and my claim. I tried to stop him with reason. I tried to stop him by force. In the end, he left me no choice but to stop him permanently.”

“You seem to be no worse off for the encounter.”

“His friends ran before he was cold. He put a blade in my leg. My chosen bound the wound with the undergarments that they’d torn off her.” He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew the pink panties darkly stained by his blood, tossing them down at his father’s feet. A murmur rippled through the brothers at such fortitude in a timid female.

“You valued this female above your brother?”

“To protect her, I’d take the life of any who threatened.”

Bram regarded him narrowly. “You’d take my life for her?”

“Without a second thought. She’s my mate, my princess. My queen. You’ll live on through our heirs as they rule, and no one gets in the way of that as long as I can take a breath.”

Momentarily taken aback by the ferocious candor, Bram gestured to the floor at his feet, his features tightening. Without hesitation, Cale went to his knees and prostrated himself, never moving, never flinching, as Bram rose. “So you would kill me and take my throne?”

“If I have to. I’d rather you give it to me. I can’t have a queen without a crown, and I’ll give her nothing less than what I’ve promised.”

“You make big promises, boy.”

“As you taught me.”

Bram’s foot pressed on the back of Cale’s neck. “I could end you right now for those treasonous words. You used to fear me, boy. Where’s that trembling now? This is your chance to beg for your life. It’s a chance you never gave your brother.”

“My life is yours. I’d only beg that you protect my female in my place after I’m gone.”

“And if I say no?”

Cale moved so fast, Bram never had a chance to register the threat as his ankle was gripped and twisted, dropping him to the floor. Astride his father’s chest with the knife he’d pulled from his boot resting at Bram’s throat, Cale used words that were cold and concise. “Then I’d have to kill you now.”

Some of his brothers had half-risen from their seats. The others stared in shock. It was Bram who broke the tension with his big, booming laugh. “You may well have my chair, boy, but not today. Get off me before I lose my sense of humor.”

Cale rocked back and helped his father stand. He returned the knife to its sheath, then steeled as Bram’s hand raised, but only to clasp behind the neck and draw him to his shoulder.

“You please me, boy, but you know I can’t let your action go answered.” Bram held him back to study his immobile features. “I think a dozen stripes would satisfy me.”

“I’ll accept whatever you decide.”

The punishment was brutal, and they all knew it. But it wasn’t death or banishment, so it could be endured.

“That would satisfy me, but what of your brothers? What will it take to appease their loss and prove you worthy of their trust? I think a Gauntlet is in order. Survive that and come take my punishment. Then all will be forgiven.”

seven

Kendra watched uneasily as their belongings were put away by two silent servants. The luxurious chalet was isolated from the others, deep within the firs. As in the main lodge, one entire wall was windows, except for a huge stone fireplace set in the middle. Low couches surrounded a thick fur rug. There was a wet bar but no kitchen. Their meals would be delivered so as not to disturb them. One glance at the bedroom told her everything.

The purpose for these rooms was to encourage conception.

The huge bed centered beneath a skylight was cloaked in silk and fluffy quilts that slid to the floor in an inviting tumble. Only a few steps away was a sunken tub surrounded by candles and scented soaps. Cale’s suits, shirts, and jackets—how could a man have so many?—were being hung in a massive walk-in closet next to scraps of lace and sheer fancy that she assumed would be her wardrobe. She smiled weakly as the pair completed their work and bowed before leaving her to her own company.

Kendra drew a tight breath and released it in a shaky gust.

Put the undeniably virile Cale Terriot in this setting ripe for sin, and what chance would she have of retaining her virtue?

A knock at the door made her jump nervously. Sylvia met Kendra’s puzzled greeting coolly, offering a small parcel. “I brought you some things from my mother. For Cale. You’ll need them later.”

Kendra peered into the tote. “What’s this for?”

“His back, if you want him to recover. Use the scrub immediately and the ointment after.”

“After what?”

“No one’s told you?” Her tone was both solicitous and condescending. “For his penalty, if he survives the trial.”

She’d started to turn back toward the door when Kendra seized her wrist. “What trial?”

“The Gauntlet.” She scowled down at Kendra’s tightening fingers. “Don’t you know anything about our laws? Perhaps you should have bothered to learn those things before you got him to throw his life away for you.”

“Tell me now.”

“They’ll drop him off in the forest with nothing but his bare hands to defend himself. He’ll have until dark to get back here. With every mile, he’ll meet the justice of one of his brothers. They can come at him with any weapon they choose, or they can let him pass unharmed. If he can defeat them or manage to evade them, he’ll have his father’s penalty to pay. You can watch that if you have the stomach for it. Perhaps he’ll still think you’re worth it once it’s over.”

Cale checked his watch. Noon. He had six hours to make the compound and ten potentially deadly obstacles to overcome.

He knew his brothers. They’d trained together since childhood. He knew how they fought, their strengths and weaknesses, but he couldn’t be sure if they’d greet him as friend or foe. This was their chance to strike with impunity. Some might try to kill him, others to earn his gratitude.

He’d done everything he could to erase his scent. His only plan was to get by as many as he could without contact, which meant avoiding aggressive shifts into his basic form. The transformation would give him added strength and speed but would make the others instantly aware of him. No sense in advertising. Those he was forced to confront, he would deal with when the time came. All focus was on survival. And he was damned good at surviving.

Despite the cold, he was dressed lightly, for ease of movement, in an olive-drab T-shirt with a black leather vest over it to provide some protection. Camo pants were tucked into sturdy boots that buckled almost to his knees, to guard his ankles. An unexpected twist, and it would be all over. His face, neck, and arms were marked with irregular stripings of black and green, and he’d rubbed a darkening compound through his hair to mute telltale flashes of Terriot red. Even the diamond stud had been reversed in his ear so the stone wouldn’t shine like a beacon, inviting a head shot. He was as ready as he was going to be.

Cale took a slow, deep breath and pressed a hard symbolic kiss to a fisted hand, whispering, “I’ll be with you soon, my queen,” before slipping on his wraparound sunglasses.

He kept low, a skimming silhouette, running at an easy pace. He’d almost cleared the first mile when he scented another close by. He slowed into a cautious lope. Cresting a small incline, Cale drew up sharply.

His middle brother, Adam, stood in the gully below, startled by his abrupt appearance. He’d been bonded for almost eight years and doted on his family of five. A quick assessment judged him as no threat, but Cale had almost forgotten that his brothers could view this challenge as
his
chance to kill the competition.

Cale’s quick nod brought instant relief to the other’s face, and he continued on. One down, nine to go.

He covered the next mile without ever sensing anyone. Possibly Kip or his mated brother Lee had totally missed him or were actively hiding. One less worry until Cale paused near the edge of the tree line at the start of mile three.

The steep, deforested hillside had been logged, leaving nubs and no cover. He could circumvent the area and remain concealed, but that would eat up time he didn’t have. He measured the distance to the continuation of the woods far below. If it were Cale, he would be just out of sight with a bow or rifle, biding his time to take a percentage shot. He bounced lightly on his toes, the sweat beginning to cool on his skin, weighing his own speed against the accuracy of an unseen assailant.

He started down fast, zigzagging in a crouch to make himself less of a target. His attention was divided between dodging stumps and checking for movement in the tree line below, so he never saw what grabbed his foot until it was too late. Not a vine but a strategically placed wire.

Cale hit the ground hard and began the long roll down, striking his head to send earth and sky tumbling as he fell like Jack with his broken crown. Dizzy and disoriented, he wasn’t sure he’d come to a stop until he felt the pressure of a knee on his sternum and a cool blade against his throat.

Cale struggled to focus, blinking rapidly until Colin’s features appeared. “Good snare.”

“You taught me.”

“Nice of me.” He closed his eyes because his head was pounding so hard that it made his brother’s image pulse. He took quick stock, and aside from the monumental headache and sundry bruises, he seemed to be in one piece. As long as he kept his head both figuratively and literally. “Now what?”

“I liked Michael.”

Cale swallowed hard against the knife’s edge. “So did I.”

“Are you our father’s man or your own? Are you going to let him continue to rule through you?”

Gaze steady and cool, Cale told him, “My own. I plan to rule for our clan.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

A sudden hard purpose thickened his reply. “If I have to.”

Colin rocked back on his heels, relieving the pressure on Cale’s chest and on his nerves as the knife was sheathed. “As long as you stand against him, I’ll stand by you.” He rose up and was gone.

Cale stayed flat for a long minute, trying to make sense of the conversation. The animosity toward Bram seemed to come out of nowhere until he realized that he knew next to nothing about his brothers. With protective mothers in separate homes, they hadn’t been raised to seek one another out but, rather, to be suspicious and jealous. It was all tests, competitions, games they couldn’t win. They were afraid to speak honestly, unable to trust one another with true intentions. Bram controlled them through their very division.

Perhaps Cale would have to change that. By the end of this day, he’d have a good idea of who might join Colin in support of his rule.

Mile four wasn’t easy. His leg had been reinjured during his fall, altering his gait to slow him considerably. His ears rang and his vision blurred, making it difficult to stay alert.

Cale recognized Rico’s warrior cry as he dropped out of the trees onto his brother’s back, the impact taking Cale face-first to the ground. A strong choke hold was accompanied by pounding to the ribs. Cale managed to free one arm, catching Rico by the back of the head, bowling him over to give himself a chance to scramble up. They squared off, breathing hard, eyes glittering. Rico’s smile was terrible.

“I’m not going to kill you, Cale,” he taunted. “I don’t kill my brothers. I want you to see me take the crown and your female, and to know that I’ll be taking her every night, all night, until she screams my name instead of yours.”

Knowing Rico was trying to goad him into a foolish attack, Cale suppressed the fury building like lava in the throat of a volcano. He managed a mocking smile. “A man would boast of his own accomplishments instead of trying to steal them from another. You’re no leader. You’re a greedy child with no imagination.”

Rico came at him with a roar. They exchanged brutal body blows until Cale was able to swing him headfirst into a tree trunk and fling him down on the forest floor. Cale was quickly astride his brother’s middle.

That was when Rico wedged a pistol under his chin and drawled, “I think I’ve just had an original thought.”

Kendra paced, trying to outdistance her panic.

She’d spent her whole life reacting to the actions of others. She’d let the MacCreedys shelter her, Brigit smother her, Silas become her elusive rescuer. There was only one single moment when she’d allowed herself to be true to her instincts. When she’d stood at Cale’s back.

Her friend, her confidant, her first and, she’d vowed, forever love.

She didn’t wish Cale had died. She’d never wished that. She wanted desperately to understand how everything they’d been to each other, everything she’d adored about him, had disappeared so completely in an instant, beginning with that night in her mother’s bedroom.

She remembered so little. Being awakened and hurriedly hidden in her mother’s closet. Angry voices, her mother’s, Bram Terriot’s. Screams. Terrible snarling sounds and sights that would haunt her dreams. Cale was there and then gone before she could call to him in relief. Then his mother, Vera, tucking her into her bed, whispering that everything would be all right, that she couldn’t tell anyone what she’d seen. And she hadn’t. Not even Brigit. She pretended her mother’s attack had been part of a bad dream. And so had her father.

Gemma Terriot never recovered. She’d existed as a shadow of herself until months later, when Kendra’s father drew her aside to explain that there’d been an accident, her mother was gone, and she was to live with the MacCreedys, out of Terriot reach.

Bram wasn’t easy to escape. He slipped from mere tyranny into rages of madness that focused on the MacCreedys and their kin, her father included. Seeing supposed treachery in their actions, he retaliated by having them all slain. Only she, Brigit, and Silas had survived under the press of Bram’s thumb.

After those shattering events, she’d retreated to a place of shock and emotional injury that required the special handling her cousins excelled in. She’d let them sweep over her like a comforting tide, a sleeping beauty who’d been awakened by Silas’s kiss. Timid adoration bloomed into a slow-simmering love. He’d been the perfect foil, slightly distant, always noble, undeniably heroic. Gradually, thoughts of Cale Terriot faded from a gaping wound to another scar upon her heart.

Now she had to think of what she’d do if Cale didn’t survive his father’s trials. And what would happen if he did.

She’d placed herself in his hands. What would they feel like? Hurtful and degrading the way his brother’s touch had been, or as heavenly as those earlier kisses? She thought anxiously of the impossibly large contour that had pulsed against her when they’d danced. Would he wield that massive staff with any less brute force than he had his sparring bow when laboring over her the first time?

A flurry of knocking shook her from her brooding. An agitated Rosie stood on the steps, crying, “They’re bringing a body out of the woods. I thought you’d like to know . . .”

Her words trailed off as Kendra pushed by to race toward the main lodge without bothering to grab her coat.
Not Cale. Not Cale
. That plea crowded up into her throat as she ran. She couldn’t lose him without knowing what he’d meant.

Take my hand and my heart.

A Jeep had just turned in to the circle drive. Bram was out front, his solemn features tightening as a stretcher with a blanket-covered figure was dragged out of the back. Kendra’s steps slowed. A shaking hand went up to her mouth as father pulled back the shroud to look upon son. Her knees buckled.