Healer's Choice (6 page)

Gathered into the small space was a collection of other humans. Most were bleary-eyed from drink, rounded up from the bar and brought in to serve as witnesses.

Few of them were looking at the man. Instead they feasted on the lined-up prostitutes, stared with tongues darting out to moisten their lips as they fantasized about being able to afford sex that was more expensive than what was offered in the bar.

“The vice lord Allende is tolerant,” Dorrit told the kneeling man, receiving murmurs of agreement when she glanced around. “But this is your second offense.”

With a signal from her the prostitutes moved, parting in the middle to reveal a woman lying on the floor behind them, her body curled in a fetal position, her face a bloodied, broken mess.

One of the gathered humans vomited, spewing beer onto brown tile at the sight. Rebekka gave a cry, recognizing Feliss, but was stopped from rushing forward by the bouncer’s grip on her arm.

Dorrit turned everyone’s attention back to the kneeling man by saying, “The vice lord Allende is tolerant but a second offense can’t go unpunished. Put him out.”

The man began struggling then. Fighting in earnest.

Those brought in from the bar or pulled from the rooms moved deeper into the parlor, as far from the front doors as they could get.

Dorrit pressed her thumb to a pad. She was one of only a few who could open the doors once the locks were engaged at nightfall.

Unlike the humans who played in the Victorian clubs with names like Sinners, Envy, and Greed, the Were bouncers didn’t arm themselves with guns or wear padded protection to step out into the night. They threw the brothel patron to the mercy of the predators, lingered for a moment before stepping inside, doors closing and locks engaging behind them.

The humans who’d pushed to the back of the parlor rushed forward to enjoy the free entertainment. The Weres were less obvious, yet their eyes darkened and flickered with satisfaction, and more than one of them wore a hungry expression as outside feral dogs and wolves attacked, tearing and shredding and growling as they made sport of their meal.

Rebekka went to Feliss. Anger swelled inside her with the knowledge that the human whose screams ended abruptly died not because of what he’d done, but because he lacked the money to pay for the damage to Allende’s property.

A hand settled on her shoulder. Dorrit said, “You’re broadcasting your emotions, Rebekka. Wherever you’ve been these last few days, it hasn’t been good for you. It’s made you forget there are always eyes watching and mouths ready to spread gossip.”

Fingers dug in, adding to the warning. Rebekka looked up and saw a hint of compassion in the brothel madam’s face. Admitted, “I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll have Feliss taken to your room. You can take care of her there and stay to get some sleep unless the need for your services is urgent.”

Dorrit glanced at the unconscious prostitute. “Feliss can remain out of the lineup for the remainder of the night if she chooses.” A shrug said it didn’t matter. In the end, the debt owed Allende would be paid.

THE pack members gathered in the clearing, called there by the deep, coughlike roar of their alpha. Men and women and children slid silently from the woods, some in their jaguar form, most in a human one.

At his father’s left, his hair and skin still wet from a morning swim, Aryck frowned, noting the absence of the four adventurous Jaguar cubs who so often found trouble—and a fifth, Caius, a Tiger born to a Jaguar female. When this was done, someone would have to find and chastise them for straying so far from camp they didn’t hear Koren’s summons.

The bloody clothes of Daivat’s victims lay piled on the ground in front of the alpha. Aryck had brought them back not to serve as evidence, but so they could be thrown into the fire at the center of the challenge circle to ensure nothing remained of the dead man and woman.

Murmurs arose from those gathered as the scent of human death and Daivat’s involvement reached them. Tension built—in anticipation, in dread—stirred to life by what the clothing represented. Threat.

Sound flowed into silence when Daivat arrived, shifting easily from his jaguar form to his human one. Several of the lower-ranked females edged closer, jostling for the attention of a male in his prime, some of them seeking only transitory pleasure while others were ripe and fertile and intent on gaining a permanent mate.

Daivat ignored them, sending a challenging look to Aryck instead.

Aryck met the gaze with a cold one, uncaring about the females who openly courted another male after having presented him with swollen vulvas earlier in the day when he was in jaguar form.

Daivat’s fingers flexed in subtle challenge. Rage flared to life in his eyes as a female Jaguar emerged from the woods and rubbed the length of her furred body against Aryck’s before changing to human form, her bare breast pressed to Aryck’s arm.

Aryck resisted the urge to step away from her but couldn’t remain quiet. “This isn’t the time or the place for your overtures, Melina.”

She purred and pressed a pebbled nipple to his upper arm. “Later then, when this matter is settled.”

The deepening of her scent indicated she was aroused by the prospect of violence, by the thought of two dominant males fighting in her presence as though they fought over the right to mount her.

Several male human-formed Jaguars standing nearby hardened in reaction to her heat-scent and sultry voice. Aryck’s cock stirred, making him glad he’d pulled on loose shorts rather than coming to the clearing naked in preparation for changing form. He wanted to give Melina no encouragement.

Across from them Daivat’s expression darkened with hatred and jealousy when Melina’s hand settled on Aryck’s belly. Aryck captured her wrist and squeezed in warning. “Not now,” he growled. “Not later.”

He turned his head to give Melina a deadly stare, Jaguar to Jaguar, one that ordered her away from him. One she couldn’t refuse.

Her eyes flashed, resenting him even as he knew his ability to resist her only increased her hunger for the feel of his cock thrusting inside her.

He regretted taking her in the past. He’d only coupled with her for a season, and not exclusively, but that didn’t matter to her.

She’d now reached the age when the Jaguar soul wanted to breed. But unlike the other unmated males in the pack, he had no desire to answer her yowling calls or to end up with her as a permanent mate.

True jaguars took no life-mates; they bred and separated, with the duty of raising the cubs to adulthood falling entirely on the mother. Among Jaguar Weres it was different, nature’s way of keeping them from indiscriminate breeding.

When a child was conceived, a bond formed between the parents. It was nearly impossible to break.

If he was foolish enough to cover her and sire her young, then he’d never be free of her.

He understood the compulsions driving Melina. And because he did, he tried to avoid her in jaguar form despite his father’s attempts to throw them together.

Deep inside him the beast soul longed to pair, to find a female and claim her thoroughly, completely, in every way a male could take the mate who belonged to him. The man’s soul wasn’t far behind in wanting a woman to call his own. But even though beast and man, instinct and rational mind, agreed
the one
they wanted for a lifetime wasn’t among the pack, when he wore fur, scent became a prime motivator, as did the powerful, natural urge to procreate.

He wasn’t so vain as to think Melina’s interest in him was only because of his prowess when it came to lovemaking. One day this pack would be his with his father’s blessing, or he would leave it to claim a different territory, taking many of its members with him when he did so.

It was their way. It spread their rule over the lands few humans dared venture into and prevented battles of dominance between fathers and sons, as most often, bloodlines ran true and those who ruled were born to it.

That Daivat, too, might one day lead a pack of his own made him a worthy mate in the eyes of many of the females. His father was Nahuatl, the pack’s shaman. And a bloodline filled with telepathic alphas was strong on his mother’s side.

Like Aryck’s mother, Daivat’s had gone to the ancestors. And though her bones were never recovered and placed with those in the ancestral cave, Nahuatl knew of her passing through their mate-bond and because he was shaman.

Koren straightened to his full height, signaling the beginning of the proceedings. With his foot he nudged the clothing on the ground, releasing more of its scent. “I call Daivat before me to answer charges of law breaking.”

Daivat crossed the circle boldly, skirting the fire blazing hot in its center as if he had no fear of what its being lit meant. He stopped beyond the shredded clothing, nostrils flaring and eyes holding defiance as he spat on the bloodied trousers in challenge and insult.

The muscles along Aryck’s back and arms rippled as the Jaguar rose inside him, instinctively preparing to defend the alpha or enforce his will.

“You were in territory forbidden to all but those sent by my order,” Koren said. “You killed two humans and thought to conceal it. What defense do you offer?”

“I am only just now returning to camp. I heard the summons and came immediately. As soon as I saw the clothing I knew it was too late to approach you about what I’d done and why I’d done it. My reason for entering Coyote territory was simple. I intended to capture one of the humans and learn what they hope to find and how long they intend to stay.

“I encountered the human female first and accepted what she offered. She was seemingly alone, a whore well used by the men in the encampment. Her companion came upon us afterward and took exception to her fucking an animal when his witch-amulet flared in my presence. He killed her and I returned the favor.”

Daivat glanced at Aryck, his lips pulling back in a snarl. “Or did your enforcer tell a different story?”

“The enforcer told no story at all, nor did he find the amulet you mention. He merely gathered the facts. By your own words, you have admitted to defying the law I set down when the humans arrived, and to taking lives without sanction.”

Daivat met Koren’s eyes in unmistakable challenge. “And I would repeat my actions on behalf of the pack. We cower, hoping the humans will leave on their own and not enter Jaguar territory, when we should be hunting and killing the interlopers one by one if that’s what it takes to get rid of them.”

Discord rippled through the pack, uneasiness. Many of those gathered felt as Daivat did about the humans.

Aryck agreed with the sentiment. A subtle attack might work where open warfare would bring the military and could all too easily lead to the suspension of laws specifically forbidding hunting Weres in their furred form. But he also saw the wisdom in his father’s caution, in gathering information over hasty action.

Daivat’s gaze shifted to meet Aryck’s. It burned with a desire to fight a battle for dominance, one heightened by Melina’s presence at Aryck’s side, by her shameless pursuit of another when she was also letting him mount her.

“The enforcer has failed our pack,” Daivat said. “It’s time another took his place, someone who has already shown courage and gotten closer to the humans than he has. I issue challenge.”

“A man who stands accused of law breaking has no right to do so,” Koren said, his voice little more than a rumbling growl. “You claim your motive for entering Coyote land was pure, done for the benefit of the pack. Yet the taking of the human female and the death you left in your wake are both signs of one on the rogue path. There is also the curious lack of the amulet. By your actions you could be cast out, but I will let the ancestors judge your heart.”

If Daivat feared the ancestors’ judgment, there was no sign of it in his scent or expression as he was forced backward when those gathered moved forward, not stopping until they were standing shoulder to shoulder just steps away from a circle marked in the dirt.

Aryck stripped off the shorts, entering the challenge circle naked. Heat from the fire at its center stroked his skin in a deadly caress, reminding him that he, too, would soon be in the presence of the ancestors and subject to their judgment.

The shaman, Nahuatl, joined them. Black eyes stared out through a snarling Jaguar headdress. The hide it was attached to formed a patterned cape and matched the silver-clawed gloves he held, both pairs of them altered to fit human hands.

Nahuatl sang an invocation over the gloves, offering Daivat first choice of them then giving Aryck the remaining pair. When they’d put them on, the shaman stepped from the circle and began a different song, one meant to draw the ancestors’ attention.

Pack elders standing at points marked north, south, east, and west struck the drums they carried, a heartbeat rhythm tying pack to ancestors, symbolizing the fragile, ethereal barrier between life and death and between the two worlds.