Bloodright (28 page)

Her heart squeezed with bittersweet pain. Oh, Rafa. Even now you court your chosen one. I have felt your distance. And while I understand it, I will not lie and say it doesn’t pain me to envision you with another.

She bit her lip. She could not bear to think of her beloved Rafa making love to another woman. Her gaze rose to Lucien’s to find the light had gone out of his smile. Guilt swept through her.

He knew where her thoughts had gone. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

She reached a hand out to him. “Lucien.” The last thing she wanted to do was hurt this man. But she could not help where her thoughts strayed.

But he stalked away from her.

Surrounded by Mondragon, Falon felt lost.

“Falon!” Talia cried, hugging her. “You look amazing! The picture of health.” Her violet gaze swept Falon’s attire. “Your moccasins are gorgeous.”

Falon smiled, looking down at them. “They are. I never knew Mondragon was so crafty.”

Talia smiled a knowing smile. “There is only one Mondragon with the skill and patience to create such a treasure.”

“Lucien said it was a pack effort.”

“Really? Ask your alpha; he may rethink his answer and let you in on his secret.” She grabbed Falon’s hand and worked her way toward the back rooms. “I’m sure you want to see Layla. She has not been well, her recovery has been slow, but she is holding her own, so I’m not overly worried.”

“Wait—” Falon said as they stopped outside the room next to the one Joachim was staying in. Suddenly she felt angry and insecure. “I—I don’t know what to say to her. What if she did abandon me and only saved me out of guilt?”

Talia’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “No, Falon, she has spoken of nothing else but you.”

Falon inhaled deeply and then slowly exhaled. In the end, it did not matter why Layla stayed away, because at the very least, for saving Falon’s life, Layla deserved her thanks. “Okay.”

Talia opened the door. As Falon walked through the threshold she stopped. Not fifteen feet from her, still and pale as death, lay the woman who’d delivered her into this world. “Mama,” Falon breathed, going to her side. She clutched her cool hands into her warmer ones as she sat down on the edge of the bed. The instant Falon touched her mother’s hands, she felt her heartache, and the pain of a woman who had lost not only the man she loved but her child. Falon’s suppressed pain and anger over losing both parents surfaced with a vengeance. Layla’s eyelids fluttered, but she did not open them.

“It’s Falon,” she said softly, emotion choking on her words. “Your daughter.” Layla’s heart rate flickered like a butterfly taking flight, then quieted.

Worried, Falon looked toward Talia.

“She’s lost a lot of blood, Falon,” Talia said. “She would not take any from Lucien or me. She’s as stubborn as she always was.”

“I’m going to stay here awhile, if it’s okay.”

“Of course it is.”

When the door closed behind Talia, Layla’s dark eyes fluttered open.

“Falon,”
she whispered squeezing Falon’s hand. A hot rush of tears blurred Falon’s vision. She didn’t want to cry. Not for this woman—not yet. Not until she knew the truth. But her heart didn’t care about the truth at the moment; it swelled with love and hope.

“I’m here.”

“You have your father’s eyes.”

Falon longed to know everything about him. “Will you tell me about him, tell me everything when you’re stronger?”

“One day…” Layla closed her eyes.

Falon let out another long breath. She should not have pushed. What if discussing her father was a sore subject? She looked down at Layla’s smooth caramel-colored skin against her own alabaster skin. Because Falon was light-skinned and blue-eyed, she knew her father was also blue-eyed and light-skinned, the opposite of her mother’s darker Mondragon coloring. Layla looked petite in the big bed. Falon was tall for a woman, with an athletic build, so she surmised she also inherited her height and body type from her sire. From Layla, she got the black hair, the Lycan, and the healing; where did her other powers come from? Perhaps her father wasn’t even mortal. Then what was she?

Falon sighed and looked down at the woman who had given her life. She wondered if she would ever know who her father was or what had happened to him.

Was he alive? Did he search for her as she had searched for her parents all those years?

The hair on the back of Falon’s neck spiked when she remembered she had seen the Eye of Fenrir on a man’s hand when she was a child. Had it been Thomas Corbet? Had he come back into her mother’s life after Falon’s father had left? Had that been why her mother had given her away? To hide her from the Slayers?

It made sense. Hatred swelled within her. If Layla didn’t want to talk about the horrors she suffered at Corbet’s hand, she would not push her. Nor would she blame her for not wanting to relive that terrible time of her life. But if she did talk about Corbet, Falon would listen carefully, taking mental notes, and if he was still alive, hunt him down and skin the bastard alive.

LUCIEN COULD NOT shake his mood. He’d felt Falon’s thoughts turn to his brother when she thought of children. How could he rejoice when the woman he loved thought of another man? And right after they had made love? He fisted and unfisted his hands, wondering how he was going to live with Rafe sharing his true mate’s heart, mind, and their bed.

He swiped his hand across his face. His earlier peace had unraveled. He was torn about what he knew he had to do and what he had done. He had started to tell Rafe and Falon about Mara, but got sidetracked by the Slayers.

And then everything changed when Falon had lain at death’s door. All that mattered was that she live. And when she came out of it, all that mattered was that he loved her. And by the grace of all the gods, she loved him in return. Why would he jeopardize his and Falon’s chance of happiness when Rafe was honor bound to take the Siberian Lycan as his mate? By telling her about Mara they would all lose. It was his secret alone to keep. Not only was it a moot point, he told himself, but if the truth came out, he would be signing his death sentence.

Fuck it! None of it mattered, because he could not live with the lie. He would tell Falon the truth about Mara, and give her the choice: him or Rafe.

He strode into the spacious office off the common room. As he flicked on the light switch, a small box sitting on his desk caught his eye. It was a U.S. postal box with no postage, just his name scrawled in big, bold black letters on the top flap. He brought the box to his nose and inhaled deeply. It smelled burned. Like ash.

Intrigued, he opened the box and peered at the gray matter within. Definitely ash.

He sniffed again. Human ash. He recognized the scent. Furious, Lucien flung the box away from him.

The ash was what was left of Mara. Someone knew he had killed her, and had sent him a warning. Or was it a threat?

He had lain with a Slayer, then killed her and covered it up.

Turning toward the open door, Lucien stared out at his happy pack. Everything was coming together. They were strong, productive, and focused. Without Lucien, Mondragon would falter, then collapse like a row of dominoes. And with their collapse, others would follow.

He was between a boulder and the edge of a cliff.

Fifteen

FALON FELT LUCIEN’S presence behind her long before his scent reached her. His energy was dark, angry, and sad, but interspersed was a soul-tapping love she could not deny. She did not want to deny it. Denying him and what they shared would be like denying her right to breathe.

Slowly she exhaled and turned to him. Her heart caught high in her throat. Devastation etched deep lines in his tragically handsome face. She rose from the chair beside her mother’s bed, extending her arms. “What is it, Lucien?”

He shook his head, looking past her to Layla.
Not here.

Falon turned back to her mother’s sleeping form, reached down to squeeze her hand, then slipped from the room with Lucien.

“Falon!” Joachim shouted jovially as he stepped from his room with Lise wrapped inside his good arm. Musky sex scents swirled around the couple. Combined with Lucien’s nearness, Falon’s body warmed. She felt the flash of Lucien’s answering warmth. She groaned, wondering if she was becoming fertile. She and Lucien could not keep their hands off each other on a normal day, but now the air seemed punctuated with sex pheromones. All she could think about was Lucien and how fast they could get naked.

Joachim grinned and hugged Lise closer.

“I see you have recovered and then some,” Falon said, looking at the small female Lycan accompanying him then at the metal contraption attached to his arm. “My God, Joachim, you’re a one-man arsenal.”

He raised the contraption. With a flick of his elbow, five sharp switchblades popped out where his fingers would have been. “I’m deadlier than any Slayer and five times as sharp.”

“Put that away, Joachim!” Lise cried as she flinched away from the glinting blades.

Joachim snapped his elbow and the blades withdrew, leaving only metal digits.

“He can cut a Slayer’s head off in less time than it takes to draw his sword,” Lucien said.

“I can see that,” Falon said.

“Did you tell her about that mongrel out back?” Joachim asked Lucien.

Falon looked to Lucien’s scowling face. “What mongrel?”

“Angor.”

“Angor is here?” she asked excitedly. That meant Rafael would be near, as well. Didn’t it? “Why?”

Lucien let out a long, exhaling breath and ran his fingers roughly through his hair. “In light of what happened, Vulkasin insisted that mutant mutt shadow you. And since I value your health above everything, I agreed. What I failed to do was make Rafe responsible for that beast’s appetite. He’s eating us out of house and home.”

Falon smiled at Rafael’s thoughtfulness and Lucien’s ever-evolving acceptance of his brother.

Lucien’s scowl deepened. Falon pressed a comforting hand to his chest. “Thank you for allowing him here. I saved Angor’s life. He has a special place in my heart.”

“Just another way for my brother to push himself on Mondragon.”

Falon bit her bottom lip to keep from scolding the petulant Lucien. “If you don’t want Angor here, I will send him back.”

Lucien took the hand on his chest and brought it to his lips. “I told you, I don’t begrudge you the added protection of that beast. I only begrudge my brother his continued involvement in your life.”

Falon’s smile waned. “He will mark his mate soon enough, Luca, and then you will have nothing to worry about.”

Joachim and Lise quietly slipped away, leaving them to their privacy. Falon watched the storm gather in Lucien’s golden eyes. “As long as he lives, I will worry. Even if he were dead his ghost would haunt us.”

Falon’s back stiffened. “Are you saying you don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust—” Lucien dropped her hand and swiped his hand over his face. “I don’t trust myself; how can I trust you or my brother when I saw how he looked at you when we didn’t know if you were going to live or die? He was dying himself, just as I was! I know you feel the same for him, and it tears me up inside each time I think about it.”

“We have exchanged marks!” she cried, angry that he would think she would run to Rafe if he would have her. Maybe she would have before the Slayer attack, but not now. Lucien was her chosen one. And Rafe was promised to another.

“But you still yearn for Rafe!”

It was Falon’s turn to swipe her hand across her face in frustration. How could she make this proud, stubborn man see that while she loved his brother she loved him, too? “Lucien,” she said slowly. “I will not lie to you. I have never lied to you about my feelings for Rafael. I love him. But I also love you.”

Her heart blanched when Lucien flinched. “Would you rather I lie to you about it? Or would you want me to not love him? Because if I stopped loving him, what kind of person would that make me?”

“All mine!”

“Perhaps, but also a shallow, fickle mate not worthy of you or Mondragon.”

Lucien rubbed his temples. “Falon. I understand your feelings for my brother. I even admire your loyalty to him. But you must understand what it does to me every time I know you’re thinking of him with love and lust in your heart.”

It would hurt the same if she thought of Lucien in the arms of another woman. “It would tear me up inside thinking of you loving another woman. You loved Mara. Because of that love, an entire pack has been split in half. Two brothers who loved each other became mortal enemies. Don’t think that her impact on your heart doesn’t affect me. Because it does.”

He hissed in a breath.

“The difference between you and me is, despite all that threw us together, I stand here with you because I choose to be here. I know you love me. And that is enough.” Lucien scowled, not buying what she was selling. “Lucien, we cannot change what is. We can only make the best of it.”

He looked away from her. Stubborn man! She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. “I love
you
. I accepted your mark, your seed, and your ring! I may at this very moment carry your child. Accept that I am here because I choose to be here.”

“What if you were given the choice to return to Rafe?”

His words hit her like a hammer. Her jaw dropped. “I—”

His eyes darkened dangerously. “By your hesitation, your answer is clear.” He stalked away from her.

“Lucien!” she cried, running after him. “I love you, damn it!”

He turned vicious eyes on her. “But not enough to forsake Rafe for me.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him so hard toward her, he flew backward into her. Despite the pain of his body smashing into hers, her rage mushroomed. “Stop this now! If I leave here it will be because of your hand on my back pushing me out!”

The color drained from his face.

“Your pride is going to destroy everything you hold dear, Lucien Mondragon!
Including me
.” Falon stepped away from him as she tried to calm the tempest in her heart. She loved Lucien. With every part of her that loved Rafe. But damn if he didn’t drive her crazy! She calmed more, trying to put herself in his shoes. It would eat her alive as it ate at him if she had to share his heart, his thoughts, his soul with another woman. That Mara was not the love of his life was a blessing of immeasurable wealth. She doubted she could live with her ghost standing between them, a constant reminder of a love torn from his arms. If Mara had lived, it would be virtually impossible.