Blood Rights [Wicked River 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (2 page)

“Get it together, Moira.” She couldn’t afford to make mistakes or get emotional every time something was said that reminded her of
him
. “It’s been eight months,” she reminded herself aloud. “He’s not coming back.”

* * * *

Why the hell was he back?

Crouching low as he slinked through the trees, he was careful to stay downwind of the pack currently gathering in the field. Brock knew the answer to his unspoken question the minute his gaze landed on the breathtaking beauty in the middle of the loosely formed circle of wolves.

“Things are tense,” she said in a voice that carried on the wind. “You’ve all seen what’s been happening around town. Stay in groups of twos and threes and keep close. No one leaves the pack lands tonight. Understood?”

Barks, yips, and howls went up around the group of lycans. It didn’t surprise him that they’d chosen Moira as their new alpha. She was strong, capable, and fierce. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to keep those she loved safe. At one time, Brock had been counted among those select few.

Creeping a bit closer, his paws sank into the moist dirt, the earth clumping beneath his claws. The fur along his spine stood on end, and his muscles quivered in nervous anticipation. Something was coming. He didn’t scent anything amiss, couldn’t hear anything in the woods that shouldn’t be there, but he felt it slithering closer.

Elders from all over the Southeast Region had gathered to address the threat that was endangering their people. Mission Landing, Alabama was just the most recent in a string of small towns ravished by the Shadow Walkers.

Considered an abomination by the rest of the paranormal world, Shadow Walkers hadn’t helped their reputation in recent months. Once considered a rare occurrence, more and more were cropping up, forming alliances, and leaving a trail of blood from North Carolina to the Florida panhandle. Now they were moving inland.

Not only had they slaughtered hundreds of innocent people, but they risked exposing the supernatural world to humans and inciting mass hysteria. Not wanting to dirty their own hands, the Elders had formed a new and temporary force to deal with the threat. Brock had volunteered for the job without a second thought, becoming one of the first Shadow Hunters.

There were affected towns throughout the region, but he’d asked specifically to be sent to Mission Landing when he’d heard it was one of the targeted areas. He wasn’t there to win back Moira’s affections or take over the pack—though by birthright, he should have been the alpha of the Red Moon Pack.

No, if Moira didn’t want him, he could live with that. Nothing in the rulebook said that he had to sit idly by while her life was in danger. It wasn’t just the enchanting seductress he was there for, either. Even if some had turned their backs on him, these were his people, and he had an obligation to protect them.

A warm, furry shoulder bumped against his, and Koba whined softly, pawing at the dirt but keeping his eyes focused solely on Moira. After the many nights of drunken rambling the guy had endured in the last six months, there was no doubt that he was anxious to get a closer look.

Brock hadn’t been searching for a relationship, or anything that resembled one, when Koba had quite literally dropped into his lap. It still made him smile when he remembered the babbled apology and the man’s pink-tinted cheeks as he tried to scramble off of Brock after running into him and knocking them both to the ground outside of a bar in Atlanta.

On a downward spiral of self-destruction, he’d not exactly been pleased to discover he had a second mate. Koba had been persistent in his pursuit, however, not willing to take no for an answer, and somewhere along the way, Brock had lost his heart to the man.

Koba had been more supportive than Brock had any right to expect. In fact, he’d been excited and impatient to meet Moira, insisting that no matter what had happened in the past, none of them would be happy until they were all together. The mating bond between them demanded it.

Just because Koba and Moira were both his mates, there was no guarantee that the two were also fated to be with each other. Brock didn’t know what he’d do if that turned out to be the case, but Koba assured him that it wouldn’t matter. Maybe it was the man’s basic nature as an omega to be understanding and avoid conflict, because Brock didn’t know anyone else on earth who would be that accepting of the situation.

His natural avoidance of confrontation alone should have prevented Brock from bringing him along on such a dangerous assignment. Koba Blackheart wasn’t the typical omega, though. Ten out of ten times, he’d always choose to talk rather than fight, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t handle himself in battle if the need arose.

Judging by the quiet growls streaming through Koba’s snarling lips at the moment, battle was upon them. Brock could scent the lycan pack still gathered in the clearing, as well as the other four members of his team crouching in the trees behind him, waiting for his signal. A subtle charge sizzled through the air, and something foul drifted on the night breeze, burning his nose until he wanted to sneeze.

“Okay, everyone, have fun, but make sure you’re home before sunrise,” Moira called to her pack.

The wolves howled enthusiastically, drawing far too much attention to themselves. Did they know? Couldn’t they feel it? Hell, they were practically ringing the goddamn dinner bell. Forget the Shadow Walkers. The townspeople were going to show up with torches and sawed-off shotguns in any moment. Hadn’t Moira just told them to be on alert and keep a low profile?
Idiots.

Proving that things could always be worse, lightning flashed overhead, followed swiftly by the crack of thunder. As though the violence of the sound alone had split the skies, the clouds opened up in a torrential downpour that flooded the already-soggy ground and ripped the leaves from the tree limbs.

No one appeared to mind the rain, though. If anything, it only seemed to increase their excitement. The full moon might be lost in the mass of dark rolling clouds, but the pull the lunar goddess had on her children was still as strong as ever, driving them to hunt.

Too bad the pack members were the ones being hunted. Movement in the tree line to the west of the field caught his attention a split second before all hell broke loose. A dozen Walkers burst out of the forest, moving faster than anything Brock had ever seen and a hell of a lot faster than they should have been moving.

Since Shadow Walkers had once been human, turned by the blood of both a pureblood lycan and a pureblood vampire, their strength, speed, and agility were superior only to other humans. In a fight against a born paranormal, they were vastly outmatched. Obviously not the case for this particular group, though.

There wasn’t time to puzzle out the mystery. Four pack members were already down, and several more were engaged in ferocious battles of teeth and claws. Some of the Walkers had even shifted to their animal counterparts, but luckily, they were distinguishable by their inky-black pelts. Surprises were bad. Mistakes were deadly.

Barking twice to signal the rest of his team, Brock sprinted through the driving rain with Koba right beside him. Using his powerful back legs to propel him through the air, he leapt onto the back of one of the Shadow Walkers still in human form, taking him down easily before scrambling to his feet and moving on to the next.

“We can’t fight them and win!” Moira shouted as she pushed her sodden hair back from her face. “Everyone to the barn!”

A Walker of massive proportions turned his yellow gaze on her and snarled. Brock had never seen anything like it. Transforming into something between a vampire and a wolf, the beast practically flew through the mud, knocking aside Brock and two of his team members as though they were nothing more than flies.

Inch long talons curved from the tips of the monster’s fingers, and he slashed through the air, coming closer to Moira with each thundering beat of Brock’s heart. He was too far away, would never make it to her in time. Though she was strong, Moira was still in her human skin, making her the most vulnerable person in the clearing.

It was for that reason that Brock couldn’t believe his eyes when Moira charged the Walker, her arms pumping hard as she ran full-out. Did she really think that she could simply run right through her enemy? What the hell was she trying to do?

When the monster swung at her again, Moira ducked the blow and dropped her shoulder, ramming it right into the Walker’s midsection, sending them both crashing to the mud. “Go!” she screamed to her pack as she rolled off her foe and hit the ground running.

The beast was just as quick to gain his feet, splashing through the rising puddles in his pursuit. Barking and snarling, Brock ran faster than he ever had in his life, his paws clawing against the earth to propel him forward and his eyes never straying from their target—the unprotected nape of the Walker’s neck.

Chaos and panic surrounded him as most of the pack fled for the cover of the nearby barn. A few of the male members stayed behind, engaging the enemy to give the smaller and weaker a better chance of escape. While Brock worried for Koba, hadn’t seen him since the battle began, he knew the man could take care of himself. So, he focused all of his attention on Moira and the Walker closing in on her, pushing himself harder, faster, and with single-minded determination.

His tunnel vision gave him a front-row view to the tragedy unfolding before him, and his heart nearly stopped beating as he watched the Walker leap through the air and tackle Moira to the mud. The pair slid several feet across the slick ground, but came to an abrupt stop when a large, gray wolf appeared out of nowhere, catching the Walker around the neck and using his momentum to pull the asshole off of Moira.

Too bad the stubborn alpha couldn’t let it go. And they said men had more pride than brains. “I had him!” she shouted, delivering a hard right hook to the Walker’s temple.

Finishing off the beast with a fierce growl, Koba backed away a few steps and shifted right there in the middle of the clearing. The rain pelted against him, soaking his long, black hair and running off his nude, tanned body in rivers. None of that seemed to bother him, though. He advanced on Moira, grabbing her by the upper arm and spinning her toward the barn that sat on the edge of the field.

Brock slowed his pace to a trot, following silently behind the pair as Koba prodded Moira through the downpour. The surviving Walkers had retreated back into the forest, and it would fall to Brock and his team to hunt them down.

They needed to clean up the mess in the clearing, make sure the pack was safe, and regroup before that could happen, though. Just then, his main priority was sticking close to his mates and ensuring no further harm came to them.

“I had him!” Moira repeated, wrenching her arm out of Koba’s grasp.

“Yes, and there’s an open bar in hell,” Koba countered with a snort. “Are you always like this?”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Spinning around so fast that her wet hair slapped her in the face, Moira pushed a finger right into Koba’s chest and snarled. “You don’t belong here.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re welcome,” Koba repeated. “You know, for saving your life.”

“I didn’t need saving. Now, tell me. Who are you?”

“Koba Blackheart.”

“And that means what to me? Why are you here?”

Deciding things couldn’t get any worse than they already were, Brock dropped his head as the change washed over him, and his body reformed to his usual six-four height. “He’s with me.”

Moira’s head snapped in his direction. The shock was evident in her expression, even in the darkness, though it was quickly followed by cold, hard rage. “Brock Lancaster.” The name was spoken with such venom it was a wonder he didn’t drop dead where he stood.

“Hey, Mo. Fancy meeting you here.”

His lame attempt to lighten the mood would have earned him a fist to the jaw if Koba hadn’t caught Moira around the waist and hauled her off her feet. He let go quickly, however, when the heel of her boot connected squarely with his shin. Drawing up to her full five-nine height, Moira leveled Brock with a scathing look and then spun around to stomp off toward the barn.

“Don’t call me Mo.”
 

This was not happening.

Eight months without so much as a phone call or postcard. Eight months of not knowing if he was even alive. Eight fucking months of trying to get over him, trying to rebuild her life, and then Brock Lancaster shows up, naked as the day he was born, as if he’d just blown in with the storm.

Well, he could take his rugged good looks, perfectly sculpted physique, and that stupid pet name that made her knees weak and go right back to wherever he’d been hiding. She didn’t need him, and she certainly didn’t need the complications his arrival brought with him.

“Mo, wait!”

Stopping just before she reached the barn doors, Moira fisted her hands at her sides and struggled to breathe. “What are you doing here, Brock?”

“Looks to me like I’m saving your life.”

It was the second time someone had said that to her in the span of about three minutes, and it rankled because she knew it was true. Wild horses wouldn’t drag the confession out of her, though. “I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, because it looked like you were doing such a bang-up job of it.”

Giving up on remaining calm and rational, Moira turned to give Brock a piece of her mind but stopped short when she found the man much closer than she’d expected. She floundered for only a moment before finding her voice, though. “Why did you come back? There’s nothing for you here.”

“You’re here.”

“Like I said, there’s nothing for you.”

“Don’t,” Brock growled at her. “I’m only here now to do my job. If you think more of those things aren’t coming, you’re a damn fool, Mo. You know you need my help.”

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She didn’t have a clue what had ambushed them or how to fight them. As much as she’d like to send Brock packing, it wasn’t about her. She had a lot of people who were looking to her to protect them. Pushing away her personal feelings and doing what was in the best interest of the whole, she sighed heavily and dipped her head. “Fine, but I want to know everything you know.”