Bloodright (25 page)

Talia ran to Layla, choking back sobs of joy, through her tears. The pack closed around her, making welcoming sounds of happiness. Lucien steadied the medicine woman. She walked on a raw stump of a leg. The price for her freedom that day.

Helping her carry Falon up the three flights of stairs to his bedroom, they placed Falon down on the bed. Layla spoke to Talia in a language Lucien partly understood, giving Talia a list of herbs and such to gather.

Layla pointed to Lucien’s sword on the wall. “Take it down.”

Lucien grabbed it and handed it to her, hilt first. She shook her head and held out her arm. “You make the first cut, Lucien.” He did not hesitate.

Layla winced but squeezed the gaping slash on her wrist urging the blood to flow freely. She began to chant a low soothing healing prayer. Instead of giving Falon her blood by mouth, as he expected, Layla dripped her blood into the bite on Falon’s shoulder. Falon’s skin sizzled on contact, the fumes creating a putrid death scent. Layla’s chant changed cadence. It became louder, more powerful, demanding the blood poison to leave her daughter’s body. Then Layla dripped a line of blood from the bite wound along Falon’s chest down her belly to the sword wound there. As before, on contact, Falon’s skin sizzled. Layla’s chants heightened in fervor and pitch.

Talia entered the room with a boiling pot of water effusing aromatic scents. Layla’s chanting rose in volume as she pressed her wrist to Falon’s white lips. Talia sprinkled herbs on Falon’s body as she chanted a different prayer. For hours, the two women chanted, cleansing Falon with herbs and repeating the blood ceremony. Helplessly, Lucien watched Layla’s skin slowly pale with each blood transfer. When her knees gave way, Lucien caught her.

“Layla, you have lost too much blood.”

She shook her head. “As you, I would give Falon my last drop.” She pushed off Lucien and continued to chant and transfuse her blood.

“Luca,” Rafael’s deep voice softly said from the doorway.

Wearily, Lucien raised his eyes to his bother’s. They mirrored Lucien’s fear and his love for the woman dying on his bed.

“Get some rest. I’ll stay with Falon while you do.”

Lucien shook his head and looked back at Falon’s struggling body. He was not going anywhere. Nor did he raise opposition when Rafe pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the bed and took Falon’s other hand. He would not begrudge his brother his place here if it would help Falon.

Lucien never once pulled his gaze from Falon’s still body. Waiting, praying to her God and to his for just the slightest sign of improvement. Her breathing was so ragged, and her skin so pale that he thought each breath she took would be her last. Just when he thought he had lost her, she fought for another. He squeezed her hand in his, wishing he could infuse her with his strength.

Hours passed. Dawn’s gray fingers parted over the eastern foothills announcing a new day. Though exhaustion claimed them all, neither brother left Falon’s side, as Layla vigilantly continued to chant and give Falon her blood.

When the sun was high in the sky, Lucien’s heart fluttered. Was that—He looked expectantly at Falon’s hand in his. Did her fingers just move? He looked to Rafe’s alerted face. Had he felt it, too?

“Angel face,” Lucien said softy. “Can you hear me?”

FALON’S BLOOD RAGED with fire. Thousands of sharp molten blades tore into her. Her bones ached, her innards boiled, the pain so excruciating, she prayed for death.

Rafael’s warmth and Lucien’s voice echoed far away, hidden behind a soft chanting that took her back to her childhood. She wanted to call out to it, to tell it she was here! Not to let her go.

But she was locked inside a terrible jail cell, suspended in the black abyss of her nightmares. The same gray souls that followed her in her real world and dream world cried outside of her cell, no longer aimless but loud and demanding, begging for release. Who were they? Why did they follow her into her dreams and even her consciousness? They were there the night she met Rafael, looking sadly at her for help. But the sinister energy she realized was that of the Slayer Viktor Salene chased them away. Forbidding them to contact her. Why? When they wanted her help? Who were they?

Flames licked at her belly and her neck. Wild, wicked laughter pierced her ears.

“You are one of us, Falon Corbet!” Ian Corbet’s decapitated head shouted for the entire world to hear.

His uncle, Edward, whom she had killed when he would have killed Rafael, held his own severed head in his arms, pointing at her. “I lied! You are Slayer! Mondragon and Vulkasin will skin you alive when they learn the truth!”

Hundreds of severed Slayer heads laughed at her.
We will meet again at the rising! And you will fight with us. Not against us!

“No!” she screamed.

She was Lycan! Not Slayer.
Never
Slayer.

“Buniq,”
a soft familiar voice said. “You are safe.”

Mama?

“Yes, my love, I am here. Shhh, sleep.”

Falon fell back into the black hole of unconsciousness only to be shaken awake by the shrill cries of the gray souls. They swarmed around her barred cell, crying for release.

What do you want?
she shouted at them.

Release us!
they begged.
Release us from this purgatory. Release us and we will stand beside you and fight.

Fight?

Slayers. We are thousands strong. Release us and we will die again for you.

I don’t know how!
she screamed, covering her ears and closing her eyes.

Fire burned her shoulder. It stung her belly. The stench of burned flesh assaulted her nostrils.

Lucien!

Warm hands stroked her cheek.

I’m here, love.

Her heart swelled. He had not abandoned her. What of Rafa?

I am here,
too,
her first love’s deep voice soothed from the left.

I love you both.
She sobbed.

More fire flared in her wounds.

She screamed.

“Steady, love,” Lucien whispered against her cheek. “The last of the poison is being extracted.”

Falon fell back to that place that was neither consciousness nor the dream world but somewhere in between.

“Her blood is clean,” the soft voice said. “She needs your strength now, Mondragon.”

A drop of warm blood touched her lips. Falon licked it.
Lucien.

Take my blood, Falon. It will give you strength
.

He slipped his big hand behind her head and lifted it slightly to his wrist, pressing it to her lips. She drank eagerly from him.

Liquid energy, it infused her body with warmth and vitality.

The ache in her blood began to subside. Her body began to cool and the gray souls evaporated, but the longing in their eyes would haunt her forever. Satiated, Falon released him. Lucien lowered her head and caressed her cheek with his fingers. Falon exhaled deeply. As she did, she reached up to his hand and pressed it against her cheek.

Now Vulkasin,
the soft voice said.

Lucien’s anger flittered through Falon.
No!

You do her an injustice for refusing.

What injustice? She is better now
, Lucien argued.

Had she not had the blood of Vulkasin and Mondragon in her veins she would have died where she fell.

Falon moaned. Her head hurt.

Make the cut, Rafael,
the soft voice commanded.

Warm drops of blood plopped on her lips.

Rafa.

Take my blood, Falon,
he softly said, touching her cheek.
Take it all.

Her veins warmed as Rafa’s blood infused hers with its strength. Her headache vanished. The shimmer of the three bloods fusing, then recirculating, infused her cells with vitality.

An incredible sense of contentment shimmered through her. Knowing she was safe, Falon allowed exhaustion to claim her.

FALON’S EYES FLUTTERED open. The steady thud of a heart beat beneath her cheek. She realized she lay on a bare chest. Lucien’s clean woodsy scent cradled her. The room was dark, save for the soft glow cast by a few candles burning on the nightstand.

Her stomach growled. Strong arms tightened around her. She looked up into two fiery gold eyes. Slowly she smiled. Shocked, Falon watched those fierce golden eyes fill with tears.

“No, Luca,” she whispered reaching toward his lips. “Don’t cry.”

When their lips met, lightning struck. The shock was so extreme, Falon cried out, pulling away from Lucien. Wide-eyed, she stared at him. He reached out a hand and cupped the back of her head, bringing her lips to his again. She stiffened, anticipating the shock of the contact again, but this time, warmth infused her.

She melted into his kiss as his fingers clasped her head, and his other arm tightened around her. She felt the wild staccato of his heartbeat pulse through her. Tears stung her eyes.

“Falon,” he said hoarsely. “I can feel your heartbeat running through me.”

“That’s because you have stolen my heart.”

He grinned. “It’s about damn time.”

She clung tightly to him as her weird dreams surfaced and prayed that they were just that, dreams.

Thirteen

“HOW DO YOU feel?” Lucien asked, tracing his fingers across her lips.

Falon closed hers eyes, pushing her dreams aside. She was alive and would rejoice in that. And the man who saved her. “Like I’ve been run over by a train. What happened?”

His darkened eyes caught hers. “What do you remember?”

Falon closed her eyes and slowly exhaled. “The last thing I remember was holding hands with you and Rafael.” Her eyes flashed open with a sudden sense of dread. “Rafael? Did I dream he was here?”

Lucien’s lips tightened but he nodded. “He was here.”

Falon exhaled. “And you permitted that?”

“I would have done anything to save you, Falon.”

Her tension loosened. “Something happened to change your feelings about Rafe. Tell me.”

He shrugged, looking over her shoulder. “Your words are beginning to sink in.”

He smiled when she gasped and looked at her. “I’m tired of the hatred that has been eating at me all of these years. It’s time to put it aside, prepare for the rising, and focus on Slayer annihilation.”

Speechless, Falon’s jaw hung open. Lucien slipped two fingers beneath it and gently shut it. “Don’t get me wrong, Falon. I will never welcome Rafe with open arms. But he is my brother and the fact that he has chosen another mate, and will honor that choice or die, gives me confidence he will not try to come between us.” His eyes narrowed. “Because if he does, I will kill him.”

The reminder that Rafael would soon belong to another gut-punched her.

Lucien’s lips tightened. “I know how you feel about him, Falon. I wished you didn’t. But as he is making a life with another, so, too, will we make a life together.”

She willed the tears to go away. Her love for Rafael would never die—that Lucien accepted that gave her hope. But hope of what? Struggling to make him understand what she didn’t even understand herself, she licked her dry lips. “I know it must be hard for you, Lucien. It would be hard for me. But there is something about the three of us. Back there, with the Slayers, touching you and touching Rafa at the same time, it was amazing. Power infused me, Luca. Power like I have never felt before. After that bullet came out of me, I felt invincible—”

He shook her slightly, his features fierce. “But you weren’t invincible, Falon! How could you go after Corbet like that?”

She closed her eyes as it all came flooding back. In hindsight she had been foolish to risk her life and the lives of Vulkasin. But at the time she truly felt she was bulletproof. “Corbet stabbed me with your arrow. That’s the last thing I remember.”

“He stabbed you, then bit you. Then you were stabbed by another Slayer.” His voice wavered with emotion. “The stab wounds weren’t the problem; it was Corbet’s poisoned blood that nearly killed you.” He lowered his voice. “Falon, I almost lost you.”

The naked fear in his voice moved her. Was there hope for them after all? “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

She rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand as she tried to muddle through what had happened to her. “I had really weird dreams. I dreamt of Layla. That she was my mother.”

Lucien sat up and scooted against the headboard, bringing Falon with him. His arms cradled her as she would their babe. “I couldn’t save you, Falon. I tried. Talia tried.” His voice choked with emotion. “But there was nothing we could do. The poison in your blood was killing you. The only way to cure you was to replace your blood with true blood.”

“True blood?”

“Blood of your parents or a sibling. I begged the Great Spirit Mother to intervene. She sent me Layla. Who miraculously
is
your mother.”

Dumbfounded, Falon stared at Lucien. “How can that be?” As the questions piled up in her head, emotion overloaded her. She had a mother and she was alive! Love and wonder sprang into her heart but riding its heels was more than a flicker of resentment. Why had she abandoned her? What kind of mother would do that? “Where is she?” Falon made to move from Lucien. Gently he pulled her back into his arms.

“She nearly died from her blood loss, Falon. She’s been in a deep sleep since last night. Talia’s with her.”

“I want to see her.” She wanted answers.

“As she does you, but first—” Lucien kissed her nose then slid from the bed. “I have something for you.” He moved from the bed and walked over to his desk.

As Falon waited for him, conflicting emotions crashed together inside her. While she gloried in the news her mother was not only alive but a revered Lycan, she could not shake the anger that bubbled just beneath the surface of her happiness. She had been abandoned as a young child. Left to the broken-down foster system, never knowing who her parents were. It messed with Falon, as it messed with a lot of kids. What was she supposed to do now? Welcome her mother with open arms? Let bygones be bygones?