Authors: Tessa Dawn
Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Paranormal, #Dark Fantasy, #Romance
"Perhaps it's because they are so easily tracked—and killed—themselves," Marquis snarled.
Tristan shrugged. "Could be...but that's the beauty of running in packs." He leaned back for a moment and rubbed his chin with his thumb as if deep in thought, stopping to look around the valley. "Wouldn't it be interesting if wolves hunted people, instead? I think if I were to lead a pack of wolves, I would place one male in the doorway of every innocent woman and child's home within a hundred miles...just to keep my enemy in line."
Sheriff Jack Thompson bit his bottom lip and frowned with frustration. "What the hell are you guys talking about?" The question was clearly rhetorical. He turned to face Tristan. "We don't hunt wolves in these mountains, and our wolves don't hunt people, so if you're really serious about hunting first season, you better have a doe or a buck tag."
Tristan gave the sheriff a mock salute. "I would never break the law, sir."
Nathaniel linked his mind with Napolean Mondragon's and immediately sent him the information. The powerful leader's presence was instantly felt as a gentle but alert energy settled in the air around them: The Sovereign was perched like a seasoned general in the back of Nathaniel's mind, waiting patiently to see how the scene played out.
The sheriff turned back toward Jocelyn. "Miss, would you like to leave here with us?"
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She will leave over my dead body, Marquis snarled, letting his brothers know exactly what was about to happen should Jocelyn make the wrong decision.
Jocelyn looked briefly at Nathaniel, her beautiful hazel eyes cloudy with distress, and then she turned back toward Tristan. "How did you find me here? The only person who knew where I'd be was my informant."
Tristan shrugged. "I know. And Captain's gonna have your ass when you get back for pulling such a dumb move, but luckily for you, I know who your informant is. I've always known."
Jocelyn looked surprised by her partner's words and genuinely torn by the entire situation. Once again, Nathaniel placed his hand gently on her shoulder. "Jocelyn, this man is not who you think he is."
Jocelyn looked overwhelmed then.
Confused.
And more than a little scared.
She cleared her throat and forced herself to look up at Nathaniel. "I have known Tristan for three years now, Nathaniel." She paused as if trying to draw strength from a waning well of courage. "I haven't even known you for three days...." She shook her head back and forth as if trying to clear the cobwebs and then turned to face him more directly, her back turned to Tristan. "Nathaniel, maybe the best thing I can do right now is to get away for a little while. By myself.
Where I have a chance to think and make some sense of things without any outside...influences." She looked down, clearly ashamed.
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Nathaniel felt as if all the air had left his body. His eyes were burning, and he knew they were turning a feral red. He thought he was prepared for her to make such a decision, especially given the fact that they had shared so little time together, but hearing the words come out of her mouth was an altogether different experience.
He stared at her thick brown hair, with its impossibly soft, silky tresses...at the pale green clouds that dotted her otherwise brown eyes...at the beautiful slope of her neck, the soft, gentle curve of her chin, and the almost regal lines of her raised, angled cheeks. This woman was his. The destiny he had waited on for hundreds of years, the only thing standing between him, this world, and the afterlife. Yet, she had chosen to send him to his death that easily....
In front of his brothers.
In front of his mortal enemy.
Never had any warrior, hunter, or son of Jaegar wounded him so deeply.
Nathaniel didn't move a muscle; he didn't even blink. "Do what you must." He dropped his hand from her shoulder and turned away.
She's not going anywhere, Marquis snapped, his fury barely contained.
Marquis, you heard the hunter, Nachari implored. He has his males positioned at the homes of our people, ready to strike the women and children if he is in any way threatened.
We have to think this through.
And what of your own flesh and blood? Your brother!
Marquis demanded.
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My own flesh and blood, Marquis? Nachari fumed. Right now, even as we consider Nathaniel, the flesh of my flesh, the blood of my blood, and the twin of my soul lies deep within the cold, barren ground, and I am certain all that was good, light, or worthy within me lies there with him...so do not remind me of my brother, Marquis. I know full well what is at stake here.
The decision must be mine, Nathaniel pointed out to the Ancient Master Warrior. Nachari and Kagen are both fierce fighters, but Nachari has been trained as a wizard, not a warrior, and Kagen is our healer. Should our males engage in battle this night...should I or Jocelyn be injured...he must be somewhere safe, far from the fighting. I cannot risk the lives of our people for my own.
Jocelyn looked as if she had been physically struck by Nathaniel's words. "Nathaniel, I...I honestly don't know what to do."
"You know how to put one foot in front of the other,"
Tristan insisted. "Take my hand, Jocelyn, and let me escort you back to the world you belong in. Do not be intimidated."
The sheriff looked stunned. Astonished by the fact that she was actually thinking of leaving. He studied Nathaniel...then Tristan...and finally Jocelyn, again, before stumbling over his next words. "Ma'am, do you—" He cleared his throat. "Would you like to...file charges?"
"Charges!" Marquis thundered, finally losing his cool. "For what? I assure you, Jack, you do not want this family for an enemy."
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Nathaniel put his hand on Marquis's arm while Jack Thompson cringed and stepped back; his knees were practically knocking together as he waited for Jocelyn's answer.
"No! No...absolutely not," Jocelyn said, her eyes misting over with tears. "Tristan, let's just go." The words were a mere whisper as she reached out for the hunter's hand.
This time, it was Marquis and Nachari who placed their hands on Nathaniel's arms in a gesture of restraint.
Nathaniel? The voice belonged to Napolean Mondragon, their supreme ruler. I have alerted the sentinels and called for a council of the Master Warriors. The women and children are already being moved to the safety of the lodge, and Julien Lacusta, our very best tracker, is on his way to your home...to retrieve Jocelyn.
He intends to kill her, Nathaniel said coldly, fully aware the decision he was making was one of sacrifice: trading both his life and Jocelyn's for the life of his people.
His, he could bear.
Hers, he could not.
There was a slight pause. No, I don't think so, Kagen muttered. In fact, I'm sure he won't—at least not right away.
And you know this, how? Marquis demanded.
Kagen sighed. His scent. It's not just the scent of a wolf, but of an Alpha male marking his territory. He is sending a message to his betas...letting them know she belongs to him.
Because I can smell his arousal. He wants her...first.
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restrain him...shoving his thumb deep into the male's throat.
He pressed his face so close to the hunter's that their noses almost touched, and his body shook with the effort to remain in control. The forest instantly came alive with the angry howls of the wolves, and Napolean flooded Nathaniel's mind with a warm, calming influence, even as Nachari began to weave a spell to capture his brother's rage.
"You touch one hair on her head, and I will rip you limb from limb, hunter. With God as my witness, I will tear the skin from your body one strip at a time and remove your heart through your throat. Do we understand each other?"
Sheriff Thompson looked bewildered. "Good Lord, Nathaniel! Let him go." He started to raise his weapon, but Marquis moved so quickly that the sheriff never saw him coming. He wrenched the gun from the sheriff's hand, removed the clip, and tossed it to Kagen before Jack even knew it was gone.
"Do not get involved," Marquis growled. "The woman is leaving." He pried Nathaniel's hand from Tristan's throat and moved his brother back.
Nathaniel shook himself out of his rage and lowered his eyes to glance at Jocelyn one last time. His jaw was set in a hard, unmovable line, his lips pulled taut against his expanding teeth. "If that is all, Sheriff?"
Jack Thompson looked like a man who had just stepped off a roller-coaster ride and had yet to catch his balance. He looked around the deck for his gun and visibly blanched when he saw Kagen extend it to him. "What-the-hell..." The words were mumbled beneath his breath. He scurried over to 220
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retrieve the weapon, and then he just stood in stunned silence gawking at all four Silivasi brothers like he'd never seen them before.
"If that is all, Sheriff," Nathaniel repeated.
Jack Thompson gestured toward the door and quickly ushered Jocelyn and Tristan in front of him. The crooked smile on Tristan's face glowed amber in his eyes.
Unable to help herself, Jocelyn glanced back at Nathaniel one last time. When their eyes met, she looked as if she had just seen a ghost...as if she were in mourning...the horror of what was occurring etched deeply in her face.
As she slowly turned away, she pressed a firm hand against her stomach and caught at a falling tear.
* * * *
Nathaniel and Marquis entered the room at the same time.
"No, I was just about to come get him," Marquis responded.
"Why?"
Nachari's heart skipped a beat, but his voice held steady.
"He's not here."
"What do you mean he's not here?" Marquis flared, rapidly working to undo his own restraining cell.
Nachari sighed his frustration. "I'm a wizard, Marquis. I know how to take apart a cell. He's not here!"
Marquis stepped back, visibly shocked as he viewed the empty space with his own eyes. The cell had already been 221
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disassembled. The enclosure was open. And the bat was gone. "Kagen!" he called.
"No," Kagen answered, entering the room quickly, "I didn't release him, either."
Nachari's stomach sank into his boots. "We have to find him!"
All four males began to scour the house, rapidly moving from room to room, calling out to the youngster as they searched the most unlikely of places.
After several minutes had passed, they met back in the foyer and Nachari bent down to retrieve Braden's red duffle.
There was a folded piece of paper stuffed just inside the zipper: I'm not a dummy! And I'll be back when you can all respect me.
Nachari crumpled up the paper and tossed it across the foyer. He made his way to the window. "Where the hell is that tracker?" he spat. He didn't even try to conceal his worry as he dropped his head into his hands: Blessed Moon, the child had been placed in his care....
His voice was heavy with concern as he met Nathaniel's knowing gaze. "Holy Celestial Beings, Nathaniel..."
Jocelyn and Braden were gone.
And the forest was full of hunters.
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The old, secluded cabin sat like a weathered remnant of times gone by. Nestled serenely within the remote pristine valley, its rustic boards, modest appearance, and untouched surroundings blended effortlessly into the Dark Moon Forest.
The textured, square lines were a sharp contrast to the smooth, rocky face of the jutting cliffs that flanked its rear.
Just as the simple welcoming porch seemed a soft extension of the crystal blue river meandering along its front.
Jocelyn wrapped a heavy wool parka around her shoulders and sipped the hot cup of tea Tristan had made for her. She took a seat on the sturdy oak bench that leaned against the battered wall of the remote cabin's front porch and warmed her hands against the mug while Tristan set out to gather firewood.
She watched curiously as the tall blond man who used to be her partner walked into the woods, nervously checking over his shoulder—right, then left, then right again—like a skittish animal waiting for an attack.
Tristan had been acting out of character—to put it mildly—
ever since they arrived at the cabin. Anxiously pacing back and forth across the wooden deck, making several secretive phone calls from his satellite phone, and repeatedly rubbing his hands together...clenching and unclenching his fists...as if preparing for a fight.
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Jocelyn had no idea what to make of him now that the revelation of who he was, and what he really did, had been made to her.
A modern-day vampire hunter.
Knowing full well what Nathaniel and his brothers were capable of, Tristan had gone to great lengths to cover their trail: They had switched vehicles at least three times after leaving Nathaniel's home, prior to heading out on foot. They had hiked deep into the rugged terrain of the eastern forest, boarded a raft at the end of the gorge, and taken the last leg of the journey along an endless, snaking waterway—a channel far too narrow to be followed on foot.
The snow had begun to fall heavily only moments after they left, and the unexpected storm was blowing in fast and furious now. A sudden torrent of crystalline flakes, each one heavily weighted with dense moisture, barreled down in a haphazard spiraling pattern. It was the kind of blizzard that chilled the bone and stuck to the ground, creating heavy drifts, impassible roads, and white-out conditions in a very short period of time. Any tracks they may have left would have been covered by now, easily concealed by the mounting snow. Any scent blown away by the heavy gusts of wind.