Lycan Alpha Claim 3 (124 page)

Matthew nodded, reluctantly releasing her. His hand lingered on her waist as she slipped out of his grasp. She had felt so right against his side
.
He watched her as she made her way through the bodies of the
fragment
, their limbs entangled, throats slit, some with cuts under their knees to slow their escape. Matthew thought of all this dispassionately. He was only sorry that he could not kill Ralph and Claude himself. For Margaret.

But there were others.

Eventually, they would all die under his blade for what they had done.

Bracus watched Clara and Matthew from his vantage point on the ground, becoming more disturbed as time passed. How was a man like Matthew, quiet to the point of being taciturn
,
suddenly so intimate with Clara? She had treated even, Bracus, her rescuer
,
with extreme caution. It galled him, and he intended to find out. He looked down at Jacob, who would heal this wound. It took much to kill one of the Band. As Bracus watched, the wound stopped bleeding. Some color returned to Philip's cheekbones, the sickened color leeching away.

Jacob finished his ministrations and nodded, mostly to himself. “That will do. I think his major organs were missed.”

“Fool, it does not feel as though anything was missed. Feels like the sod got a bit of
everything
,
” Philip said sourly.

The tension broke as the Band laughed.

Philip would live to fight another day.

James fetched an additional blanket and rolled up another for under his head. Jack got the water flask for Bracus to give Philip a pull of water.

The Band looked at Matthew, and he fought not to reveal his discomfort. Then they looked at where Clara was, talking softly to Evelyn.

“What say you?” Bracus asked fiercely, as a flush of red colored Matthew's cheeks.

Matthew could not stop his body's betrayal. He was awkward with these new emotions coursing through him. He understood what he had done was wrong. It was only a matter of time before Stephen and Joseph would find them and speak of his betrayal.

But they were not here now. He would stall, gain some time to organize his thoughts, which at present, were a riot inside his head.

Matthew opened his mouth to formulate a semblance of an explanation.

Two men appeared out of the woods.

Matthew recognized one immediately.

Sphere-dweller.

Instantly, the Band stood and faced the two men as Clara slowly rose from her crouched position next to Evelyn.

When Charles and Clarence appeared out of the forest Clara felt as a woman that sees a mirage in a desert and with it, a relief so profound she sunk back to the ground covering her face as she wept in blatant relief; Charles was here.

That is not how the Band responded to Charles and Clarence's appearance. Daggers unsheathed, they surrounded the pair.

Charles spotted Clara right away, on the ground, crying like her heart was broken. Taking a step toward her he felt a strong hand encircle his forearm.

He looked at Clarence. “Let me go. I must go to her.”

“Caution, my friend, look yonder,” Clarence said quietly, inclining his head in the direction of the Band.

Charles saw what he meant. The Band surrounded them. Every one of them had a similar stance. Charles's eyes flicked to a huge male laying on the ground, apparently injured with another
savage
beside him, weapon naked in his hand.

They were ready to kill him. Charles looked at Clara, who had stopped sobbing and was moving toward him, picking up her skirts, she ran.

Clara had finally gotten a hold of her emotions. It would not do to have the Band kill Charles and Clarence for mistaking them for the
fragment
or some such. She hiked up her skirt and ran faster.

As she neared them, she sailed past Bracus, who grabbed her and pulled her against his body. With a gasp, she was held in a grip that was almost painful. She was so close to Charles, only two horse lengths, yet she was held by the Band. Did they not remember him as her companion? He meant her no harm!

Matthew turned to Bracus and growled, lowering his stance as if to attack, and Bracus looked back at Matthew flabbergasted. What was this?
And then Clara's bare flesh touched his wrist, and he felt it. The heat climbed his body, and he knew.

A
select
.

“Unhand her!” Charles roared, taking a menacing step toward the
savage
holding Clara against her will. A movement to his right caused him to duck just as a fist grazed his head. The glancing blow made his ears ring.

“No!” Clara screamed, tearing herself out of the dazed grasp of Bracus, who stumbled back as if tapped between the eyes with a hammer.

She stepped into the middle of the fray. Matthew was grabbing Charles by the shirt and hauling him off the ground by its neck. Matthew was at least six inches taller, and Charles was no small man
.
Dismissing the danger, she threw herself between them, pushing a hand against the middle of Matthew's chest.

The heat of Clara’s palm warmed Matthew, leeching the aggression out of him. He had the male within his grasp, his face a foot from his own. But as he looked down, it was Clara's face that filled his vision, captured his mind, made him realize he was going to kill this male simply because he was near her.

Matthew lowered the
sphere-dweller
to the pasture grass, his face beet red and gasping for breath.

Charles put a hand to his throat as he backed away, Clarence behind him. He looked at the other
savages
, who watched him warily but not aggressively. After all, apparently one of them was all that would have been needed to dispatch the both of them. Good Guardian, they were strong.

Clara looked up into Matthew's fierce eyes, and she kept staring, seeing a softening around the edges. Finally, his shoulders relaxed, he lowered the dagger to his side, and she let her fingers trail down his chest then away.

“He is my dearest friend... I must... I wish to go to him.”

Matthew's heart raced, and he clenched the dagger until the hilt creaked in his hand.

Clara saw the wildness start to creep back into his gaze and quickly said, “Just for a time.”

Matthew looked at Charles and nodded reluctantly, his eyes never leaving hers.

Clara began walking backward, keeping her eyes locked on Matthew and all the Band. Bracus was looking at her most strangely
.
It was up to her to defuse things. She had ample practice
.

Turning, she threw her arms around Charles. Her relief and love for him was a cloak of intense comfort that she shrugged on, wrapping herself in its embrace.

Charles had never felt a moment of more intense joy than when he held Clara in his arms once more. Unshed tears of relief burned his eyes, and he held them in check by the barest thread. He breathed deeply, smelling the strange freshness that was
Outside
:
sweat, fresh earth, and beneath it all, his Clara. He stroked her hair and murmured those things you say when you wish someone you hold dear to feel safe.

Fat tears chased each other down Clara’s face. She cried and laughed, hugging him with such abandon and delight that the Band sheathed their swords. Bracus and Matthew both stared at them with a mixture of irritation and unhappiness.

He cupped her face. “You look well, my Clara.” His gaze roved over the healing marks upon her face.

She nodded. “Aye, as well as I can be,” she said through laughter and tears.

Charles saw that her lovely eyes were healed, the swelling completely gone. Only the horrible bruise in a kaleidoscope of faded green and yellow remained. He could not help his frown, laying a tender finger, the touch of which reminded Clara of when Matthew touched her the same way. But it had been different, very different indeed.

She backed away, suddenly uncomfortable... aware.

“It heals,” Clara said dismissively.

Charles nodded, not wanting her out of his embrace but allowing her distance.

Clara noticed Clarence for the first time and felt acutely embarrassed. She nodded to him. “Clarence, it is good of you to accompany Charles.”

He shrugged glancing at the
savages,
eyes guarded. “Greetings, Princess.” He bowed.

She curtseyed in her ruined clothing, feeling ridiculous but absolutely compelled to reciprocate.

Matthew watched in fascination as Clara seemed to become another person. She seemed confident,
regal
. Perhaps, when she was not being kidnapped and assaulted, she was able to just be who she was.

Clara became aware of an awkwardness. Everyone in the meadow was battle-weary and beleaguered. She must introduce them
.
She was the only one who knew both peoples. She must form an alliance in this unlikely place. Their president had said she would serve as a liaison of sorts. Clara frowned, thinking of what awaited her in the sphere. She was not sure that she was the best representative. She shoved those thoughts aside. She looked from Charles and Clarence to the Band. Then her eyes took on the battlefield with bodies of the
fragment
lying about, lethargic flies buzzing above them for an easy meal.

Charles followed her gaze and saw the corpses. Violence clung to the meadow, and the metallic smell of blood was everywhere he breathed.

“What happened here?” Charles asked, and Clarence grunted behind him.

Charles turned to Clarence, who spread his hands wide. “It is not obvious?” Charles rolled his eyes. Clarence was always rash with his words.

“Yes, I see the dead. I wish to know why, dolt
.
”

Clara covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. It was too somber by far to engage in a giggling fit when they were knee deep in the presence of the dead.

She looked at the Band, and Bracus nodded once, as if giving permission.

She began recounting the whole of it, leaving out why she had come to be in this place.

“So, let me rephrase this Princess.” Clarence paused, pacing a short distance back and forth, tramping down the longish grass in the field. “You found yourself here with these
savages,
then this
fragment
appeared and they sought to kill you. Why?”

Clara corrected Clarence quickly, “They call themselves clan.”

“Yes, we are not savages, but we can
be
savage.” A look of vague humor slid into place on Bracus’s face.

Charles looked around. “We see the evidence.”

Bracus narrowed his eyes tensely, humor gone.

“They are a faction of people....” Clara stumbled to explain.  She still felt that she knew so little. The
clan,
fragment
, it was all so new.

Matthew began where she faltered, stepping forward. “They take our women, our meat... anything that we do not guard, they scavenge.”

James nodded, adding, “They speak not as we do and war with one another, gaining nothing. They are fools and cowards.”

“They are
more
than that.” Jacob inclined his head in Clara's direction, bringing her torn clothes to light once again.

Charles’s face darkened, becoming grim. “Why were you outside the clan then, unprotected? Why was this young girl here abused?”

Charles tore through his knapsack, finally finding what he was looking for and wrapping it in his large hand. Raising it above his head, he said loudly, “You have taken something most precious to the people of our sphere, kept her from us, then allowed her in harm's way with a people less sophisticated than even you. How dare you!” His breathing sounded harsh while he leaned forward. The veins of his temples pulsated with his anger.

All eyes swiveled to the crown that glittered in his hand, pearls and Alexandrites winking in the brilliant, late afternoon light. He slowly lowered it, looking in each face. “This is not a game to us. We endeavor to escape something that is beyond our control and the Princess has gone from one untenable and dangerous circumstance into one which appears worse.” He threw a hand disdainfully toward Clara's blouse.

Clara closed the loose cloth with one hand and turned to Charles. In a low, ringing voice she said, “That is
enough
Charles. They do not mean harm. They have done their best, hacking out an existence in the belly of their enemies. I was simply caught in the center of it.”

She searched his face, and he looked back at her. “We must go, Clara. Somewhere safe for all, away from this.” Charles opened his arms wide.

“I do not think that is wise,” Clarence said, looking at the Band. Clarence sensed that any movement in the wrong direction would disrupt the harmony he sensed hanging from the thinnest of threads.

Evelyn walked slowly to Clara, slipping a hand in hers. Clara smiled at the young girl. She squeezed her hand with encouragement, thinking that there were some things that were precious and that the sphere was only one thing of many, that there were things bigger than she at work here and her sphere.