Authors: Karin Tabke
Bloodright (41 page)
Fenrir’s eyes glowed molten. “For you, Gilda, I give you your twin souls in payment for your benevolence.” He swept his hand toward Rafe and Lucien.
No fucking way,
Lucien said to his brother.
Gilda cackled as one would expect an old witch to cackle but instead of accepting what Fenrir offered, she shook her head. “You owe me for three centuries, wolf, not just one.”
“I have been imprisoned for the last three hundred years! I do not owe for the centuries I was a prisoner!”
Gilda wasn’t having any of it. Which meant Lucien and Rafe were about to go up in a puff of smoke.
Let it play out between them,
Lucien cautioned his brother when he picked up his swords.
Maybe they’ll kill each other.
But they couldn’t retreat and leave Falon with Fenrir.
“Pay now, you monstrosity,” Gilda demanded. “Or die with the twin souls.”
“You would cheat me?” Fenrir accused. His rage roiled around them with the intensity of an electrical storm. His power was ominous and otherworldly. Beyond anything Lucien imagined existed. Knowing that, Lucien knew there was nothing they had, nothing they could do that would make a dent against the terrible wolf.
“Be gone, hag, your usefulness is no longer needed,” Fenrir said and sneered. He turned his blazing eyes on her and, as if they were lasers, zapped her. The old woman screamed, rending her hair, kicking in a circle as the heat bore into her and through her. The putrid smell of burning flesh clogged the air. Lucien moved closer to Fenrir while everyone’s attention was on the witch.
He caught sight of Falon’s terrified eyes. It nearly did him in.
Stay calm, baby. Rafe and I are going to get you out of this mess.
He focused on her as he spoke to her, unclear as to why she didn’t acknowledge him. It was as if she could no longer hear him. “Falon, blink if you can hear me.” When she didn’t blink coldness filled his veins. Was Fenrir so powerful he could come between a marked pair like this?
In a puff of sulfur-colored smoke, the shrieking witch disappeared.
Holy fuck. We need the treated swords, Rafe! They are our only hope,
Lucien called to his brother, who was closer to the container than he was.
Fenrir roared furiously; drool dripped down his fangs, pooling at his feet.
We’re going to have to wing it,
Rafe said.
He grabbed swords from his surrounding men; tossing two to Lucien and taking two for himself.
Fenrir turned to Rafael and Lucien, who moved together, swords in each hand, ready to fight for Falon’s life. Fenrir scoffed as he looked piteously at the weapons. “Those cannot harm me.”
Lucien’s heart rate shot up one hundred points when he saw Falon pick up Balor’s dagger from his ashes. Her eyes met his, then Rafe’s. She nodded and plunged it upward, deep into Fenrir’s heart. The wolf screamed as his grip loosened. Falon shoved the blade deeper, twisting it and stirring it. Fenrir’s agonizing screams were so shrill they covered their ears to prevent their eardrums from rupturing. But Rafe and Lucien rushed the beast, slashing his vital veins and stabbing his vital organs, careful not to cut Falon. He kicked them away. Both men tumbled backward into the wall of Lycans.
Blood poured from Fenrir’s distorted chest, but despite what Falon had done and the damage they had inflicted, Fenrir appeared no worse for the wear. He was a damn cyborg.
Lucien motioned his men to spread out. Vulkasin backed them as did the Russian packs. And while a full-on assault would be their only chance to slay the wolf, Falon was in the way. Lucien would not take a chance of losing her again.
“What do you want, Fenrir?” Lucien demanded, stepping forward. Rafael stepped up beside him. “I will hand you the world for the return of my chosen one.”
Fenrir looked up from his wounds to Lucien as if he were nothing more than an annoying fly.
“Release me, now!” Falon commanded the wolf. His distorted face softened despite the dagger lodged in his chest. He grabbed the hilt and yanked it free, sending his blood spewing in a high arch across them all.
Fenrir flung the dagger to the ground and snatched Falon tightly into his arms. His lips twisted in what Lucien was sure Fenrir constituted as a smile. Awkwardly he stroked Falon’s shoulder and said, “I cannot. I have waited almost one thousand years for you. You are my chosen one. My true mate.”
Falon screamed, horrified, struggling in his arms. Her powers had no effect on the beast. “She belongs to Mondragon!” Lucien shouted, knowing the wolf who had been scorned since his birth by his own kind gave no credence to Lycan law. “She carries my child! Return her to me!”
Fenrir speared them both with a harsh glare, and then said to them not nearly as gently as he had spoken to Falon, “She belongs to me now.”
And then to the brothers’ horror, Fenrir absconded with her into the night.
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