Blood Vow (Blood Moon Rising) (30 page)

“Tell us what’s wrong with you.”

“She’s pregnant, and feels like the weight of the entire nation rests on her shoulders. I think that’s enough to make any girl sick,” Talia said as she set a bowl of broth and some crackers on the stand beside the bed.

Carefully, Rafe sat down on the edge of the bed and took her cold hands into his. “Falon, I can’t help you with the pregnancy issues but you need to understand, you are part of the solution. Lucien, me, the Eye of Fenrir, the Cross, the packs, and the Berserkers, we’re seasoned warriors who are well armed with poison swords. The odds are strongly in our favor to survive the rising.” He kissed her forehead. “We need you strong and healthy that is true, more than we should admit, but stay with me, baby, and I promise you we will live to be very old and very happy.”

She nodded wanting to believe every word he said. Yet she knew the truth. And if he did, too, he would never look at her again with the love in his eyes the way he did now.

Twenty-nine

OVER THE NEXT few hours, Falon managed to keep the broth and crackers down, and her tears at bay. Lucien and Rafael updated her on what she had missed the past four days, and Falon slowly began to relax.

“So the packs have united?” she asked, shocked that it appeared to happen so seamlessly.

“Without one grumble,” Rafa said.

“They were beyond excited,” Lucien added. “It was amazing to watch them reunite the way they did. It was like a long-lost family reunion. Laughter, tears, hugs, ribbing. It was all there.”

“I wish I had seen it.”

“You will see the aftermath as soon as you’re able to move around. They’re anxious to visit with you. The women have been driving us crazy. Once you conceived, they all conceived, every one of them,” Rafe said, smiling.

“Lots of babies next year,” Lucien said with a bit of strained smile.

Falon felt the familiar sting of tears. She forced them back. Everything was perfect, except—

“And don’t even think about arguing with any of them. They will bite your head off,” Lucien added, making a sour face.

Falon smiled at that. “It’s good that they are so fierce with the rising so close. They will fight all the more for the lives of their children.” As she said the words, Falon realized she had been so focused on her parental dilemma, she had forgotten how important the child in her was to her and his father. If her son was to have any chance at a normal happy life, she had some fighting of her own to do. She swallowed hard. And that fight, she realized when she woke up, began with telling his father and his uncle that his grandfather was master Slayer Thomas Corbet.

“You have no idea how feral a pregnant Lycan can be,” Rafe said, tucking the blanket around her lap.

“I’m learning.” She blushed, and asked the question she had been dying to ask but was too embarrassed to ask. But since they had not volunteered the information Falon blurted it out. “How do they feel about our
arrangement
?”

Rafael and Lucien grinned like boys who had stolen candy from the candy jar. Heat rose in her cheeks. “I’ll take it by your leers that they don’t have a problem with it?”

They shook their heads no.

“I’m glad. Everything is falling into place.”

“We’ve been blessed with time. Fenrir’s howls over the last week are closer and fiercer but he hasn’t struck. Our scouts have reported that the Slayers are gathering outside of Nome.”

“What of Anja?” Falon asked, afraid the news would not be good.

“It’s as if she vanished into thin air.”

“Fenrir’s magic is strong; he can easily mask her scent as he did mine. I bet she is close by.”

“She may be. Perhaps that’s why he has not struck.”

“Why do you think he has laid low?” Falon asked confused. “I would think he’d be terrorizing the packs as they arrive.”

“I would have thought so, too, but he’s arrogant enough to think he can take on the entire nation and win.”

“Has there—” She swallowed hard. “Has there been any sign of Corbet?”

“No, but he’s out there. I smell the bastard. I can feel him watching us,” Lucien said softly. “Waiting.”

Falon shivered hard, suddenly very cold. The emotional fatigue she had been battling returned, slamming into her.

“Angel face,” Lucien said, squatting in front of her. “I give you my solemn vow that we will survive the rising.”

Hot tears stung her eyes. When she nodded, they plopped onto his hands.

“C’mon, baby, have more faith in Rafe and me. In yourself.” He nudged her chin up so that she looked him in the eye. “We can do this. The power of three.”

Bravely she smiled through her tears, wanting to believe him but she knew the truth. They would not survive it if she didn’t tell them and if she did the power of the three would die because they could not bear to touch her ever again.

Rafe rose and signaled Lucien to do the same. “We’re going to go now and let you sleep,” Rafe said, looking like that was the last thing he wanted to do. And it was, she realized, the last thing she wanted, as well. She may have only a few nights left with them and she wanted them near.

“I want you both here in bed with me.”

“No—Talia said you need to rest,” Lucien stammered, looking longingly at her and the bed.

She moved to the center of the big mattress and patted both sides. “No Olympics, just us three in each other’s arms.”

When neither one of them made a move either way, she pouted and said, “Pretty please?”

They didn’t need a third invitation. They shucked their clothes and slid in beside her and that was how she fell asleep, snuggled between the two men she loved.

* * *

THE MORNING SICKNESS didn’t help her appetite, but Falon managed over the next several days to eat enough to regain most of her strength. When she had first caught sight of herself in the mirror she’d cringed. She looked like a zombie. When Layla came by the morning after she awoke, Falon refused to see her. Each consecutive day she came by until on the fourth day Falon quietly but fiercely confronted her, forbidding her to return to the pack unless she came back to fight for them.

She didn’t expect to see her again.

On what was to be the eve of the two-week deadline Corbet gave her, Falon lay in bed wide awake waiting for the moment she would sneak from the lodge with the Cross of Caus in hand, and track Corbet down. She knew he was close and she knew he was arrogant enough to make himself available to her.

Rafael’s and Lucien’s heavy breathing on either side of her signaled their slumber. She smiled. They had been more than chaste these last few days, holding back from touching her; even when she begged for just a kiss they refused. Their diligence for her good health was admirable if not frustrating for all of them. But tonight both had come to bed with erections they could not hide. Oh, how she wanted them. Badly. And still, they refused to do more than hold her until she was one hundred percent stronger. They were treating her like she was a fragile piece of china that would break with too much pressure. She wasn’t but she could not convince either one of them of that. When she stroked Rafael’s erection, he had grabbed her hand, and she knew it took every ounce of self-control he had to peel her fingers off him. When she rolled over and snuggled with Lucien, she kissed his neck as her hand slid down his belly. He groaned and gently pushed her away. Then they both threatened to leave the bed completely if she touched them again.

Which in hindsight would have worked to her advantage except Rafe would have taken the Cross with him and camped out in front of the lodge.

Stealth as the she-wolf she was, Falon slid from the bed and grabbed the backpack she had filled earlier with her clothes and hidden beneath one of the sofas. Sliding it over her shoulder, just as carefully she picked up Rafe’s leather scabbard that sheathed the Cross and slid it over her other shoulder.

She shifted and, like a shadow, she slipped from the tent and moved quietly into the darkness.

Falon headed straight for the last place she’d seen Thomas Corbet, on the rise overlooking the place where she had her confrontation with Ivanov. Idly she wondered where the wolf pack was and if they held any ill will toward her. She had gone easy on them. For that they should be grateful. As she loped westward, she picked up Corbet’s scent. As she came over the rise she saw his tall form standing bigger than life in front of a roaring fire warming his hands.

The wind whipped his long mantle around his wide shoulders. He looked up and saw her. His full lips so much like her own, turned up into a smile. Her heart fluttered. It was a proud fatherly smile, not the murderous smile of a Slayer.

Falon hesitated, not because she second-guessed what she had come to do but because she had to rethink her strategy. She had wanted to come upon him as a wolf with the sword in her jaws and in one clean sweep decapitate him, but that was impossible now.

“Come, Falon, let’s talk before you attempt to separate my head from my shoulders,” he invited.

Falon shifted and quickly dressed, then slid the scabbard over her shoulder.

“We have nothing to discuss.”

“Hear what I have to say, then decide.”

“No.”

She drew the sword and pointed it at him. “
En garde
, Father. Come see what your daughter is made of.”

* * *

LUCIEN ROLLED OVER in the big bed, craving Falon’s warm silky skin. What he got was a hard muscular chest. “What the—?” He opened his eyes and stared at his brother’s surprised eyes. The space between them was empty.

“Falon?” he called, thinking she was near, but the sheets were cold. He rolled out of bed and tossing his hair back, he raked it with his fingers. Aside from him and Rafe the tent was empty.

“She’s gone, Rafe,” Lucien said angrily.

They quickly dressed and grabbed their swords. “The Cross is gone!” Rafe said, furious.

Worry nagged Lucien hard. “Why would she take the Cross?”

“You don’t think she went after Fenrir?”

“Holy shit! She’s been so emotional, she damn well might have!”

Lucien tossed his brother a spare poison sword, and they took off into the night. Her scent was easy to pick up. They stripped, shoved their clothing into their backpacks and took off after her.

When they picked up Thomas Corbet’s scent, they ran faster. As they came into the clearing where Lucien killed Sasha, they came to a grinding halt.

What the hell?
Rafe said.

There, on the rise in the shadow of fire, was Thomas Corbet. And he was getting his ass kicked by Falon.

Her furious voice cut through the still night.

“Fight me like a man!”

Corbet blocked her jab with his sword. He cross-blocked the next jab, and the next as Falon furiously tried to get in close enough for a kill shot.

Corbet was fighting defensively, wearing Falon down. But he didn’t seem to want to hurt her. Why not? Did he think to take her hostage? Rafe and Lucien shifted, then dressed and moved up the hill.

“I will not fight you,” Corbet said, as he blocked a sweeping upper cut.

“You are a coward then!”

“Listen to what I have to say. Afterward, if you want to fight to the death, I will fight you.” He caught Falon’s sword at the hilt with his blade and, in a sharp upper cut, pulled it from her grasp. He jumped into the air just as she did and grabbed it. Falon snarled and slammed into him, but he pointed both blades at her. “Hear me out!” he roared.

What the hell is going on?
Rafe cursed.

Lucien drew one of his two swords and with deadly accuracy flung it, catching Corbet in the shoulder pinning him to the ground. Falon grabbed the Cross from the ground where it had fallen, and went in for her kill shot.

Corbet kicked the sword out of her hand as he yanked Lucien’s sword out of his shoulder and flung it away from him.

“That will do you no good, Corbet,” Lucien said, striding toward him. “You’re done.”

Rafael grabbed Falon, protectively moving her behind him.

Lucien yanked the Cross from the ground and tossed it to Rafe, then picked up the poison sword Corbet had pulled from his shoulder.

“The sword is poison. In less than a minute, you won’t be able to move a muscle,” Lucien taunted.

Lucien smiled, enjoying this moment as much as he dreamed he would. Pressing the sharp tip of his sword blade into Corbet’s flickering jugular he nicked his vital vein before pressing the tip into the wound. “I have waited for this moment all my life.” Lucien sneered. He pushed the point deeper. Blood bubbled around the steel, dripping thickly down the Slayer’s neck.

Corbet’s eyes glittered furiously as he grabbed the sword blade, slicing his hands before he shoved it away from his throat. Fresh blood seeped from the deep cuts on his hands down his arms to the ground.

Rafael stepped up beside his brother and pressed the tip of the Cross to Corbet’s compromised vital vein. “You don’t deserve to die so easily.”

A knowing smile Lucien didn’t trust twisted the Slayer’s lips. “What do I deserve Vulkasin?” Corbet taunted.

“You deserve to die the same way my parents died.”

Corbet actually laughed! His blue eyes morphed to onyx as they narrowed. “I’m about to cut you and your righteous brother so deeply you will never recover,” Corbet predicted.

“No!” Falon whispered behind them. “Please, don’t do it.”

Lucien glanced over his shoulder and froze. As Falon raised hard onyx eyes to him, his heart stopped beating.

“Falon?” he whispered, unwilling to admit what he saw.
Slayer
eyes?

Corbet laughed. “The true mark of a Slayer will always rise to the challenge!” Corbet boasted. “Come, Daughter, now that your secret is out, come save your father, and let us unite!”

“Falon?” Rafael said, stunned, turning from Corbet, who could not move now that the poison had set in. “My God!” he shouted, grabbing her. “What have you done?” He shook her violently, and she took it.
“What have you done?”
he roared.

The pain in Rafael’s voice echoed the unbearable pain in Lucien’s heart. This could not be! His beloved a Slayer? How could she be Slayer when he knew she was Lycan? How could she be Slayer when he
loved
her? If his guts had been ripped out of him, Lucien would have been in less pain.