04 - Rise of the Lycans (8 page)

Lucian wondered what he had ever done to deserve such a treasure.

Tanis prowled the battlements in search of Sonja. A thorough inspection of
her bedchamber, although mildly stimulating, had yielded no hint as to her
present whereabouts. He had scoured the castle from the scullery to the belfry,
yet found no sign of her. Now the dawn was nigh and he was no closer to carrying
out Viktor’s command to locate his missing daughter. Tanis did not relish the idea of reporting his failure back to the short-tempered
Elder.

Irresponsible bitch!
he cursed Sonja spitefully. How dare she put him in
such an untenable position?
I have better things to do with my immortality
than play nursemaid to a spoiled brat less than half my age!

He glanced nervously to the east, where the horizon was already starting to
lighten ominously. The sun would be rising soon and he was eager to retire to
his own modest chambers, where he had arranged an assignation with a pair of
bawdy scullery maids, only lately inducted into the coven. The sybaritic scribe
preferred to double his private pleasures whenever possible, and his mouth
watered at the prospect of sampling both trollops simultaneously. He sorely
resented being kept from his frolics by this burdensome chore.

Yet more one reason, aside from her haughty attitude toward him, for him to
bear the Lady Sonja considerable ill will.
She would do better to curry the
favor of those who might assist her in the future.
He knew he was not the
only member of the coven who looked askance at her impolitic behavior, which
might come back to haunt her down the road. After all, even an Elder could
suffer reversals of fortune on occasion, as Marcus had learned when Viktor
usurped control of the Death Dealers back during the final battle against
William. Sonja’s exalted bloodline could only protect her so far….

A bell tolled from atop the keep, warning of the dawn, leaving the vexed
scribe at his wit’s end. Restlessly pacing the palisade, he found himself
running out of options. He had tried everything he could think to track down his elusive quarry, but to no avail. Sonja’s lady-in-waiting, a
lissome blond vampiress named Luka, had maintained total ignorance of her
mistress’ whereabouts, while none of the castle’s other servants and retainers
had reported seeing her anytime in the last few hours. He had even checked the
stables, where he had been relieved to discover Sonja’s favorite courser,
Hecate, sleeping safely in its stall. At least the reckless woman was not out
riding again. She had to be somewhere within the castle. Didn’t she?

Their lovemaking was wild and abandoned. Sonja’s nails raked deep furrows
down his naked back as they rutted furiously against the quaking wall of the
tower. Her limber legs were wrapped tightly about his waist while he supported
her succulent rump with both hands. Her bare breasts pressed insistently against
his hairy chest. The golden pendant bounced between them. His own filthy
garments lay in a heap upon the floor alongside the discarded gown, so that he
wore only the slave collar around his throat. Delicate fangs teased his neck,
never quite breaking the skin. Sweat glistened on their colliding bodies.
Wordless groans and growls punctuated every feverish thrust.

Lucian arched his back in both agony and ecstasy as her claws drew blood. He
rammed his engorged member into her, slamming her backward into the wall so hard
that dust rained down on them from the ceiling. Sonja gasped out loud and her
eyes glowed like sapphires. Her lips claimed his in a fierce kiss that literally
took his breath away. He tasted blood upon his lips.

Matching his lycan strength with her own preternatural stamina, she pushed
off from the wall and shoved him down onto the floor of the turret, where their
strewn clothing cushioned their conjoined bodies. Their busy hands and mouths
explored each other without reservation. Sonja’s alabaster skin felt as cold and
refreshing as a mountain stream, while Lucian’s own flesh was as hot as his
forge. He plunged into her like a bar of red-hot iron thrust into cooling brine.
His eyes flashed cobalt blue. Even with the collar still in place around his
neck, he had never felt so free, so wild, so like a wolf.

He knew that what they were doing was forbidden. That Viktor would surely
have him flayed alive or worse if he knew. But Lucian didn’t care. All that
mattered at this moment was making love to Sonja with every fiber of his
being—until they collapsed, spent and exhausted, into each other’s arms.

Sonja nestled in Lucian’s embrace upon the floor of the turret. Her weary
head rested upon his shoulder while her bare arm and leg were draped over his
supine form. His sinewy body felt as warm and comforting as a blazing hearth
compared to her cool undead flesh. Her fingers toyed with the wiry hairs upon
his chest. Both exhausted and sated by their vigorous love-making, she was
content to snuggle against him for what little time remained to them. Part of
her still couldn’t believe that this was really happening, that she had actually
taken a lycan as a lover, but right now, at this very moment, there was nowhere
else she would rather be than wrapped securely in his strong arms. She wished
they could stay like this forever.

This must be what the mortals imagine heaven to be like.

Their clandestine affair had caught them both by surprise. Furtive looks
exchanged in the castle corridors, as they “accidentally” brushed against each
other in passing, had led to stolen moments in the smithy, and whispered
confessions of mutual ardor. It was she who had first divulged the true depths
of her feelings, but not until Lucian trusted her with the secret route to the
deserted watchtower had they dared to consummate the forbidden passion between
them. Fearing exposure, she had told no one of their trysts, not even Luka, her
faithful lady-in-waiting.

If my father knew of this!

“So,” he murmured softly into her ear, “did I make myself useful, milady?”

“Indeed.” Her nude body quivered at the memory of their strenuous exertions.
Lifting her head, she contemplated her lover thoughtfully. The dashing
blacksmith was like no man she had ever known, and a marked improvement over the
arrogant aristocrats who courted her relentlessly. Loving, courageous, and
intelligent, Lucian was twice the man of any vampire in her father’s court. She
found it hard to accept that he was truly a lycan. “Is it true what you told my
father, that you feel nothing when you kill them?”

He realized she was referring to the werewolf he had slain earlier tonight.
“They are just animals,” he said bluntly. “Incapable of thought or feeling. Why
should I care anything for them?”

Sonja nodded, accepting his answer. She did not question the sincerity of his
response. There were no secrets between them.
I always thought the same of werewolves,
she
mused,
until
I
came to know you with all my heart….

Now she wasn’t so sure.

He rolled over onto his side so that he could look her in the eyes. A serious
expression came over his face, which was only inches away from hers. His dark
brown eyes looked more human than lycan.

“If I were to leave from here, would you come with me?”

She sat up in alarm. “Do not say that! Do not even think it.” She clutched
his arm. “They would hunt you down like all the others. You would be marked for
death!”

Lycan slaves had on occasion attempted to escape to freedom. A few had even
managed to slip past the castle walls. But her father’s Death Dealers had always
succeeded in tracking down the fugitives, most of whom had no idea how to cope
in the wild on their own. Those captured alive were dragged back to castle in
chains, then tortured to death in the courtyard as an example to any other
lycans who might be contemplating going on the run. Sonja shuddered at the
thought of Lucian facing such a dreadful fate.

I could not bear to see him suffer so!

To her dismay, he appeared undaunted by the danger. He fingered the moon
shackle around his throat. “Not if I can remove this.”

But that’s impossible,
she thought. The spiked collars were locked onto
the slaves for life—to prevent them from transforming into monstrous werewolves.
Why speak of things that cannot be?

He rifled through the strewn garments beneath them, retrieving a small woolen
pouch from his discarded belt. He reached inside the pouch, then held out his
hand. His fingers opened to reveal a small pewter key lying in his palm.

“I made it myself,” he explained. His eyes shone with pride and
determination. “This will be my freedom.”

She stared at the key as if it were a venomous spider, poised to destroy
their happiness forever. “Lucian,” she pleaded, desperate to dissuade him from
this rash course. “Promise me you will not use it. Please!”

He frowned, clearly disappointed by her response. “Is that your answer, then?
You will not come with me, so you want me to stay here for you?” He tugged
bitterly on the moon shackle. “Like this? Like an animal?”

“Lucian!” She had never realized he felt this way.
Perhaps I do not truly
know him as well as I believed?
She sympathized with his frustration, but
was horrified by the drastic measures he seemed willing to take. No, she thought
fearfully. Images of Lucian being flayed alive in the courtyard rushed before
her mind’s eye.
The risk is too great!

“Vampire and lycan,” he brooded darkly. He placed a hand against her cheek;
his hot, callused palm felt rough compared to her own smooth white skin. He
stared soulfully into her anguished chestnut eyes. “We are both the children of
Corvinus. Yet my kind are slaves.”

He held the key up before her eyes. “I will use this one day. And I will
leave this place.”

By the fates, he means it!
There was no doubting the passionate intensity of his words, which struck her like a wooden stake
through the heart. Her ivory complexion went paler still. A gasp that was almost
a sob escaped her lips.

No good can come of this.

Her obvious distress was not lost on him. Anger gave way to tenderness on his
handsome face. His voice softened and he reluctantly returned the key to its
pouch before taking her into his arms once more. Sonja clung to him fiercely, as
though she could keep him safely at her side for all eternity. Her nails dug
deeply into his naked back. She inhaled deeply of his musky aroma. She never
wanted to let him go.

“But I can never be without you,” he promised.

Nor I you,
she thought.

Tanis reached the far end of the palisade, where the rough-hewn walkway
merged with the rocky slope of the mountain. To the east, a frightening rosy
glow was rising on the horizon. A warning bell once again foretold the dawn.
Although he had not yet located Sonja, he would soon be forced to retreat to the
safety of the keep’s impenetrable walls, and to take his chances by abandoning
his futile quest. Perhaps Viktor had already retired for the night?

That would be fortunate indeed….

A wolf howled from the distant wilderness, eliciting a shudder from the
faint-hearted scribe, who pulled his fur-lined robe tightly about his slight
frame. A scholar, not a warrior, he preferred to read about werewolves in his
dusty tomes, not to hear them baying only a few leagues away. He looked forward
to the day when Viktor and his Death Dealers exterminated the wretched breed once and for all.

Save for our domesticated lycan slaves, of course.

Sighing, he turned away from the parapet and gazed out over the courtyard one
last time. A shimmer of motion caught his eye and he leaned out over a guardrail
to get a better look. Crafty blue eyes widened in surprise as he spotted Lucian
emerging from his smithy accompanied by Sonja herself!

What the devil?

A heavy gray cloak was draped over Sonja’s rumpled scarlet gown. Her
streaming walnut tresses were loose and disordered. She glanced about furtively
as she stepped out from behind one of the crude hides enclosing the blacksmith’s
forge. If Tanis didn’t know better, he would have sworn that she had just
tumbled guiltily out of a lover’s bed.

But with a lycan? That was inconceivable….

Or was it?

Despite the imminent arrival of the sunrise, which Sonja could no more
survive than any other vampire, she and Lucian lingered outside the smithy as
though reluctant to part. His hand brushed her hip, a tiny gesture that might
well have escaped the notice of anyone less observant than Tanis. They shared a
long, poignant look before the lightening sky mercilessly drove them apart. They
reached out to each other, their outstretched fingers grazing one final time
before Sonja finally tore herself away from the imprudent blacksmith and
scampered for the keep, leaving Lucian alone in the courtyard. Reaching the
shelter of the portico, she glanced back over her shoulder in a manner that could only be described as longing.
Welcoming shadows swallowed her up as she disappeared into the keep. A heavy oak
door swung shut behind her.

Up on the rampart, Tanis could scarcely believe his eyes. The Elder’s
daughter—and a
lycan!
Such a thing had never been heard of, and moreover
was expressly forbidden by the Covenant on pain of death. Not even the most
wanton vampire serving-wench would ever dream of sullying herself by consorting
with an animal, yet Tanis could not deny the evidence of his own eyes. There
could be no other explanation for the intimate drama he had just spied upon. A
muscle tightened on the scribe’s cheek.

Who knew the Elder’s daughter was so… perverse?

Not until Sonja had completely vanished from sight did Lucian look away from
the doorway. He glanced up at the palisade and Tanis hastily ducked behind a
ballista to avoid being seen. For an instant, he feared that Lucian might spot
him upon the ramparts, but then another wolfen howl captured the blacksmith’s
attention instead. More voices joined the bestial chorus until it sounded like
an entire pack was serenading the moon. Lucian listened intently, seemingly
transfixed by the ghastly din, before shaking off its spell and retreating back
into his smithy.