Dark Lycan (25 page)

She shook her head, but he could feel her conceding he was right.

“I have seen signs from the beginning that Abel is the master
Sange rau
, clearly orchestrating every detail of the attacks. It was Bardolf’s shadow sliver at risk, not Abel’s. Although there was no risk to Abel, he was the one using the familiar Bardolf created.”

He dropped another kiss on the top of Tatijana’s silky head and then glanced at the sun. It was barely making its appearance. “Perhaps you can give us cloud cover. Bring it in slowly, make it natural,” he suggested.

Tatijana swallowed hard, but nodded. “No problem.”

“Abel is the key here. I need to remember everything I can about him. His friends and allies. I think he was a first or second cousin to the prince,” Fen mused aloud. “Abel always seemed a decent sort. I was surprised that he had turned.”

“What are you going to do?” she demanded.

This time there was no denying her. In any case she had to know, because in the end, she was his only real chance at succeeding.

“There is a reason why we sever the head from the shoulders, Tatijana,” he said. “The silver stake through the heart takes time for the werewolf’s body to recognize and the brain continues to function. That brain contains all information the wolf has acquired over his lifetime and sometimes, others as well. It also contains the hatred and bloodlust the werewolf feels in a lethal, concentrated amount. Enough to kill any who has harmed it and dares to try to acquire its knowledge.”

“Are you crazy? No. Absolutely no. We don’t even know for certain that Mikhail is in danger.”

“We do know that there are two
Sange rau
close and everyone, human, Lycan and Carpathian alike are in danger. This has to be done.”

She heard the absolute implacable determination in his voice and took a deep breath. “Alright then. Tell me what to do.”

“That’s my lady. I can do this, Tatijana, because I have you.” He glanced up at the sky. The cloud cover she’d promised had drifted in slowly, pushed by a gentle wind. She had such a skill, her touch light. He doubted if even an elite Lycan would have detected the clouds were not natural. He was lucky to have her and he would treasure this memory of her straight spine, straighter shoulders and clear eyes.

“Tatijana, you cannot show yourself by word or deed. No emotion. You will be tempted time and again to step in, but you cannot. If you do, all will be lost. But”—he took both her hands—“you are Dragonseeker and there are none greater or with more honor. That moment when I call to you, come for me, pull me back. Do you understand?”

She turned to face him completely, grasping his forearms as a warrior would. Her green eyes stared directly into his. “I will not lose you, lifemate. I will come for you.”

He believed her.

10

F
en had learned at a very early age just how fast fights began and ended. The battle at the farm might be ferocious, but it wouldn’t last long. He didn’t have a lot of time to find out the information he needed. He took to the sky, rocketing through the air, using his
Sange
rau
speed, leaving Tatijana behind. He couldn’t afford to take the chance that Abel’s captain would see and identify her, not with what Fen intended to do.

The rogue paced along the edge of the boulder, his gaze intent on the scene below him. He wasn’t happy with the losses of his pack members. Unlike the vampire, the werewolf still retained some emotion for his pack. Unfortunately the lust for blood overcame every civil behavior learned over hundreds of years.

Fen recognized him. He’d been a young member of Bardolf’s pack. He’d been smart even as a young pup. The pup had been called Marrock. Fen could well believe that he was a great strategist when it came to running a battle.

He blocked out everything good he knew about the werewolf. Marrock had long ago succumbed to the need to kill for fresh blood, believing he was superior to all other species and his wants came first. In essence, he was the Lycan vampire—a murderer.

Fen came out of the clouds with blurring speed and was on Marrock almost before the wolf knew he was under attack. The body recognized it before the brain. Eyes narrowed and went bloodred. The muzzle began to take shape, teeth exploding in the mouth in a desperate attempt at self-preservation. Fen drove the silver stake deep into the heart, taking the werewolf to the ground, watching the hatred and need for retaliation concentrate in those red, glaring eyes.

Fen could feel regret now, thanks to his lifemate, and once again he had to acknowledge bringing justice to murderers one knew was easier without emotion. He shook his head, pushing all emotion aside so he could do his job. He couldn’t hesitate, or feel fear. He had to be absolute in his quest. In control. He was
Sange rau
, both Carpathian and Lycan and there was little in the world stronger than him—or his will.

He thrust his mind into the mind of the dying rogue. Hatred. Rage. Bloodlust. For a moment those things threatened to consume him as they had consumed the mind of Marrock. His entire world went red, the intensity of the bitter emotions pouring into his mind, infecting him, as if the wolf had a disease that transferred from one brain to the other. Feelings of superiority crept in. He was more intelligent. He could think faster than others, size up situations and figure out before the others what they were going to do. Physically he was faster, stronger, his body rejuvenated faster.

Fen hung on and breathed away the worst of the intense emotions, knowing Marrock was trying to trap him. The danger of being infected with the bloodlust was the worst and that pushed at him harder than anything else. He craved blood. Was addicted to it. Why shouldn’t he have the right to take what he was designed to take? He was born to be a predator. There was no taming what or who he was.

That much was true. Every Carpathian male he knew was a predator. Every Lycan. And he was a combination of both. The drive was already in him. Why should he pretend to be someone else? He could take what he wanted or needed and no one would be able to stop him. Their leaders had all become victims, afraid of who they were, ashamed even.

The whispers began, another voice promising riches, promising to live the way they were meant. He could have anything at all he wanted, money, power, women, and blood, as much fresh, rich blood as he desired.

Fen latched onto the memory in Marrock’s mind, striking hard and fast, pushing open the door so that a flood of memories assailed him at once. Marrock’s induction into the pack of rogues. That first taste of a kill, so unforgettable and never to be repeated, no matter how many times one killed or how. Marrock’s rise to captain.

Fen pushed down the rising fear when he saw the enormity of the pack. He couldn’t get exact numbers because they were broken down into smaller groups, but they all answered to Bardolf and Abel. Few actually met them, but all were sworn to be loyal to them.

He had to get past the older remembrances Marrock had offered up as a wall to conceal the information Fen was after. Marrock snarled and fought, trying to ensnare him in a muddle of recollections, pushing the need for fresh, adrenaline-laced blood on him, sharing the taste of hot blood, anything to keep Fen out of his most recent memories.

Fen pushed harder, using more strength, careful not to tip his hand, but slipping past those memories that wouldn’t help him. Marrock still had options that could be harmful to him. He didn’t want to trigger any of them until he got the information he needed.

Fen found the most recent orders from Bardolf. Marrock was to keep the Carpathians busy, kill as many as possible and inflict as much damage as possible to force them to go to ground to heal. A second force would find the humans who aided in protecting children, destroy them and grab any Carpathian women helping to protect the children. The two forces were to attack simultaneously and keep everyone busy, allowing Abel and Bardolf to slip in and assassinate the prince.

The moment he accessed the memory, he knew he had only seconds before Marrock would try to warn Bardolf or Abel and also bury Fen in a quagmire of poisonous emotions to prevent him finding his way out. Red and black poured into his mind even as he reached out.

“Lifemate.” One word. Everything. The miracle.

She was there instantly, his own dragon lady, and she knew exactly what to do without him telling her. She poured into his mind, driving everything else out, and as she extracted him from Marrock, she swung the silver sword and removed the head, making it impossible for the wolf to warn the
Sange rau
.

Fen took the time to drag her into his arms and hold her tight against him for just a moment, breathing in her sweetness and steel after the bloodlust and mayhem in Marrock’s poisoned mind. She was a breath of fresh air.

“You make a pretty good partner, my lady.”

She smiled at him, rubbing her hands over his back. “It’s nice to know you have such faith in me. That was horrible. Never do that again.”

“You’ll have to get to the village, Tatijana, and warn the others at the farm that they’re being detained there on purpose. I’m going to try to stop the
Sange rau.
I’m the only one with a chance.”

She shook her head. “Not two of them. Not alone, Fen.”

“Go, Tatijana,” he said gently. “Hurry. The rogues decimate entire villages.”

Fen brushed a kiss against the corner of her mouth and took to the air, streaking back toward Mikhail’s home. He had been in that house and knew it was designed to help protect the prince. There had to be more, a complete protection system Gregori was confident would stop any attack on the prince—but they believed the attack would come from a vampire—perhaps even a master vampire. They hadn’t designed their defense system to deal with the
Sange rau
.

Tatijana took a deep breath and stepped off the jutting cliff, streaking toward the village. She didn’t want to imagine what the werewolves would do to humans barely waking in their homes.

Gregori, Mikhail’s in danger. Fen has gone to try to stop the
Sange rau
from getting to him. But there are two of them.

There was a short silence. Pain exploded in her skull—Gregori’s pain—quickly cut off.
Fen does not have to worry. Mikhail is completely protected.
There was utter confidence in Gregori’s voice.

Mikhail’s guardian would check anyway, no matter how arrogant or confident he sounded. Tatijana knew Gregori would fight his way to Mikhail with his last breath.

The
Sange rau
sent another group of rogues to attack the village, specifically targeting women and children of our kind.

Again there was a short silence, but this time, Gregori kept the pain from his terrible wounds from touching her.
I wondered why the Lycans didn’t show up. They must be defending the village.

Of course. She’d been in Zev’s mind. He was every inch the man Gregori was. His confidence. His abilities. His complete determination to defend others. He would definitely wade straight into battle and shield human and Carpathian alike.

As she approached the outskirts of the village, she felt the disturbance almost immediately. The scent of blood was overpowering. She shifted into her dragon form flying high enough, she thought, to keep any rogue from leaping on her as she circled the battle scene.

She spotted Zev in the middle of what looked like twenty werewolves. He was whirling around in a circle, his silver sword crimson red, his long hair flying as he cut a path to a single dwelling that appeared under siege. His long coat flared out as he spun, the sword never stopping, his boots placed perfectly and fluidly as if he was dancing, not in deadly peril. He seemed to flow, confidence in every line of his body. He looked almost beautiful there in the early morning light. Had it not been for the blood spraying through the air, she would have thought she was watching a ballet.

Around the back of the house, four others fought with swords and silver stakes, while another was on the rooftop of the house. That was a woman, and her form was every bit as good as her male counterparts. A sixth Lycan was down in the corner of the yard, two rogues tearing at him. Two Carpathian women were fighting their way to him.

Use the silver stakes,
Tatijana advised the woman with thick dark hair who slammed her fist into a werewolf’s face, driving him back and off her. Tatijana was amazed at the woman. Clearly Carpathian, she was used to fighting vampires, it showed in every line of her body. Women rarely fought the undead, not like this woman. Tatijana wanted to meet her immediately.

The clouds above had gone black and lightning veined the one directly over the house. Destiny Von Shrieder glanced up to make certain the blue dragon was out of harm’s way.
Dragonseeker, I’m about to bring down the lightning.

Tatijana circled back around, giving the dark-haired woman plenty of room. From her vantage point she could see the fierce fighting in the front of the house where Zev fought alone. Out of the house came two men. She recognized both of them. Gary Jansen and Jubal Sanders rushed without hesitation into the mass of werewolves attacking Zev. Gary shot a crossbow with silver arrows very accurately, firing rapidly while Jubal used some strange weapon she’d never seen before.

The two humans were fast and confident, and had obviously seen battle before. The werewolves outnumbered them and were extremely fast, ducking the flashing sword Zev wielded and using the house itself as a springboard to leap onto their backs in an effort to take them to the ground. Zev seemed to be directing the two men in their efforts, but their constant movement prevented her from aiding them. She couldn’t flame the werewolves without harming the defenders.

The rogues were extremely aggressive. One lit a torch and flung it at the house. Zev cut him down, but two wolves waiting their moment leapt from the roof and landed squarely on his shoulders, their combined weight driving him to the ground. Immediately the rogues surrounded the fallen Lycan, determined to kill him fast.