Scent of Valor (Chronicles of Eorthe #2) (10 page)

Chapter Seventeen

A sharp point of a dagger poked Kele’s side. “Stay in civil form and you won’t have any trouble from us.” The vampire holding her eased the sword from her throat. Even if she could shift faster than he could stab her, she couldn’t defeat Timothy. Not after what she’d just witnessed. The cat shifter would probably be able to beat her father…

Her breath hitched. Would she ever be able to think of her parents without a searing burn in her chest?

Timothy had chained Peder to a thick wooden pole on the other side of the compound. The shifters in the pen gathered by the bars. Their solemn faces told her they’d witnessed this before. Her imagination suddenly grew vivid and crazed.

They can’t do anything to me that hasn’t already been done,
whispered a ghost of Peder’s voice in her head.

The guard keeping her hostage guided her closer to Peder’s hanging form.

Her feet dragged as if made of stone until he shoved her from behind, propelling her closer than she wished. This was all her fault. If she’d just kept a better rein on her temper and not attacked that touchy-feely vampire, Peder would be safe within the pen.

She almost snorted. How could she consider the pen safe? As long as Timothy controlled their fates, they’d never be out of danger.

Behind Peder, Timothy sorted through what appeared to be tools on a table. He hummed to himself. What was he going to use them for? This didn’t seem the time to build or fix anything. She searched the yard for enlightenment. Then it dawned on her. Those weren’t tools used to fix things. One didn’t need pokers and pincers to repair cages or wagons.

Holding up a multitailed whip, Timothy skirted the area until he faced Peder. “Have you ever been whipped with something like this?” He snapped the cat-o’-nine-tails, just missing flesh.

Peder didn’t even flinch. He stared at Timothy with eyes gone dead.

“I can’t let your behavior go unpunished.” He twirled the whip in his hand before setting it aside, choosing a long, thin, flexible stick.

A cane.

How could she breathe a sigh of relief at the sight? But she did. That awful whip was tipped with small hooks to rip the flesh. The cane would only leave bruises.

Her nostrils flared and her limbs shook.
Why Goddess?
Peder had the kindest soul she’d ever encountered. She wanted to wrap him around her like a thick blanket and let his heat sink deep inside her.

Timothy struck, keeping most of the hits on the outside of Peder’s legs. The solid slap of wood against skin echoed in the silent compound.

She’d been a fool to think it wouldn’t cause as much damage. The cane left long welts that crisscrossed his skin. In a few places, his skin seemed split from the constant impact.

The tremors in her arms grew worse and her guard tightened his grip. She clenched her teeth as the sound of the beating grew louder and Timothy worked his way higher.

Peder never made a sound. That tore her apart more than any scream.

Peder breathed, forcing the air in and out of his lungs when instinct wanted him to hold his breath.

The pain wasn’t part of him.

In the dark, behind his eyes, he closed a mental door. He hadn’t hidden in this space in years. How easy it had been to find his way back.

Smack, smack, smack.
The sound carried a stirring beat.

His pulse slowed as the darkness swallowed him and let his body absorb the sting of the cane. He had endured worse, but he was out of practice. When Timothy hit his ribs, he couldn’t stop the flinch. The cat shifter must have seen it since he returned to the spot frequently.

Someone was screaming. The sound came from a distance as if from a long tunnel. They shouted one thing over and over. He wished they’d stop. It shook his control more than the caning.

“Peder.” Kele’s voice, so raw as if she’d been shouting through a veil of tears, slipped passed his door. “Peder.” It sounded weaker this time. “Please stop, Timothy. Please.”

His mental hidey-hole faded and he opened his eyes.

Kele struggled against her guard. The vampire’s arms clung to her and kept her from reaching him. A dagger lay on the ground at her feet as if had been dropped. Tears streamed down her face. “Stop it.” Her bottom lip shook.

Timothy withheld his next strike, but Peder’s body still tensed waiting for the blow. The cat shifter watched Kele with a smug smile. “Let her go.”

They released her so fast Kele fell forward. She hurried toward him.

The hit on his tender flank came much harder than the others, and it shocked a loud groan from him. Kele didn’t understand people like Timothy—those who enjoyed inflicting pain, and how he was using her to feed his hunger.

She fell to her knees at Peder’s feet and stroked his aching leg. It wasn’t a submissive move though—it was so much more. It was his mate suffering. His beautiful, proud Kele shed tears for him. Something he hadn’t dared even dream. She cared.

Hanging her head, she whispered, “Please stop it. I’ll do anything.”

“No.” It left his lips before he could stop his idiotic response. His gaze snapped to Timothy’s in hope he hadn’t heard him, but a sparkle of triumph reflected back.

The cat shifter dropped the cane and approached Kele, kneeling at her side. With a gentle hand, he petted her long, blonde hair. “Such unusual coloring for a shifter in these parts. I’ve seen it more in your northern cousins.”

She sniffed and clung to Peder’s ankle, her nails marking his flesh with half-moons.

Timothy pried her fingers open and led her away until Peder had a good view of them both. He tossed her onto her knees and lifted her dress over her hips.

“No.” Damn it, he’d said it again.

“She said she’d do anything.”

“You’re in feral form. You’ll tear her in half.” With his thrashing to get free, he swung at the end of the rope. Blood trickled from his wrists, making them slick. He cared too much and it showed. Foolish, foolish heart. He doomed her.

“You act mated.” He buried his nose in Kele’s hair. “But you don’t smell it. I do smell you all over her, Goldie. Is this a sudden romance blooming in my slave pen?”

Kele remained very still at Timothy’s feet. Goddess only knew what would happen to her if she fought more or ran. He couldn’t bear the idea of Timothy fucking her.

The cat shifter ran his palm over her sleek ass cheek. “What would you do, Peder, to save her?” Timothy used his name. Any hope to remain hidden from notice among a group of shifters vanished for good.

He relaxed. Timothy didn’t want her. He really wanted him. That was something he could handle. He was already so damaged. How many times could something broken be fixed before it just looked shattered, no matter the angle? “Name it.”

Timothy’s chuckle rolled in deep waves. He pulled Kele’s dress back over her hips and gestured to the guards. “Place her back in the pen unharmed.” He then strolled toward him. “Have you heard about our underground fighting rings?”

He shook his lowered head.

Timothy grabbed his chin and made him meet his soulless cat gaze. “You might be worth even more than Huan bargained for your pretty pelt. Maybe you can focus that rage in the ring for me tonight? If you win, you keep her untouched. If you lose, you watch me and my men take turns with your
sweet-natured
mate.”

Jerking his head from Timothy’s grip, he snarled. “What sort of fighting?”

“Shifter challenges. You win and you keep her.”

“What do you get out of this?”

Timothy rolled his eyes. “
Wolves
. Money, and I think you will make me a great deal of it.”

With a sinking heart, he nodded. It didn’t matter what Timothy got in return. He didn’t see how he could make money from shifters fighting, but who cared as long as it gave Kele some protection?

Timothy lowered his arms. “Feed and water him well. He needs to recover for tonight.”

The guards walked him to the pen, where a crowd waited at the door. Shouting at everyone to get back, the guards poked their batons through the bars until the area was clear enough to let him in.

With a deadening noise, the lock fell into place as he faced his fellow shifters.

Kele raced into his arms with a fierce hug.

“My ribs,” he groaned.

She let him go and guided him to their pallet and helped him lie down. “Get him some water,” she ordered no one in particular.

A water skin appeared with a thin blanket and a few half-eaten pieces of bread.

He peered at the eager faces of his fellow prisoners. A rush of blood flushed his cheeks as his lips parted. Those faces bore an expression he’d rarely seen aimed at him.

Respect.

Chapter Eighteen

Dressed in a lovely cream gown—gifted by Lord Weis—Pemma accompanied Ewald by coach to the part of the city that housed the slaving trade. The street lanterns hadn’t been lit yet and the inky darkness of the night crowded against the windows of their carriage. She snapped the curtains closed. “Ewald, are you sure this is a safe idea?” They hadn’t any hunters with them—only Maxim accompanied them as a footman.

“Lord Weis’s man said it was most entertaining. I sent Maxim out this afternoon to check the arena.” He patted her knee and gazed out at a bunch of revelers, who sang drunkenly in the street. “He said there’d be slavers present at the event. Don’t worry so much, Pemma. When haven’t I taken care of you?”

“But fighting?” She wrinkled her nose. They all had their places in nature. It was what separated alphas from hunters from crafters from omegas, but nowhere did the Goddess mention slaves. Owning another person was a vampire concept, and one she abhorred.

Challenges were for dominance only. This kept order within the pack and was an outlet for disagreements. Making them fight for entertainment was a sacrilege to the dark moon Goddess.

She bit her lip. Gramp told her to keep her opinions to herself tonight. She’d be surrounded by people who made a living off others’ lives.
They don’t want to hear a spoiled omega’s opinion of their livelihood,
were the words he’d used. She wouldn’t have said anything even if her alpha hadn’t warned her. Ewald could hold his own in a sword fight but not if she pissed off a crowd of slavers. She planned on hushing up and staying out of trouble. No matter how upset she grew.

What if Ewald took to the idea of owning slaves? She eyed him. Would he try to sell her pack so he could gain enough coin to return home? She rubbed her sour stomach. Normally, she enjoyed outings. She liked the opera and parties. Maybe if she pretended the fighters were volunteers, she’d be fine.

The coach stopped and Ewald offered her his hand when he stepped down. Always such a gentleman. “Maxim, park the carriage close by and leave it with the coachman. Join us inside once you’re done.” Ewald set her hand on his forearm and led her inside the arena.

Seats lined the circular fighting ring and rose at an angle for better viewing, much like a theatre. She paused and stared at the torchlit arena. Smoke curled into the rafters and low murmurs of the audience carried as one sound.

Ewald gave her a little tug and guided her to a set of seats right by the edge of the ring. If one of the hunters was tossed, they’d be crushed.

A large dark-skinned male paced the edges of the ring. He commanded a set of armed guards to check on the fighters. It wasn’t every day she got to witness a shifter ordering vampires. She inhaled the stale, smoke-filled air and caught a whiff of feline. From his size and coloring, she’d guess he was some form of panther shifter.

They could be such jerks. She had dallied with one before she’d captured Ewald’s attention. The cat shifter had been fun, but felines and wolves didn’t mix. They had fought more than made love.

The male turned and seized her stare. An inviting smile crossed his face.

“You always make friends quickly, Pemma. Go over and introduce yourself.” Ewald nodded to the feline.

She held back a sigh. “Of course.” Lifting the hem of her dress off the dirt floor, she made her way to the imposing male. “Hello.” She held out her hand.

He brought it to his lips and kissed the back as if he were from Gaul. Not likely. “My lady, what brings such a beauty to this place of violence?”

“I’m not a stranger to watching challenges. All packs have them.”

“Not like this.” His gaze traced the low neckline of her dress and rested on her ample cleavage. She didn’t care. That was the point of wearing such things, to draw the eye and lower a male’s expectations of the wearer’s intelligence.

“How so?”

“You’ll see. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Pemma, of the Wenzeslaus pack. And you are?”

He traced small designs in her palm. She hoped it wasn’t some sort of hex. “I’m Timothy of the Jaguar clan.” She’d heard stories of voodoo and Timothy sent all sorts of bad shivers down her spine. “Have you placed your bet?”

“No, I don’t have the coin to gamble.”

“A fine shifter like yourself always has a vampire on a leash.”

“Oh, she has one. Has him wrapped around her tail real tight.” Maxim stopped next to her. “Who would you have her bet on?”

She frowned at Ewald’s cat, with his purring odd accent. He’d never answer her when she asked why he’d joined their journey or where he was from. Stupid cat had Ewald’s father’s favor. His decision to cross the ocean had shocked many people, Ewald included.

“You should place your money on my golden male. He’s slight in stature but he’s fast and has skills.”

“Thank you kindly. I’ll keep that in mind.” She spoke to Timothy but glared at Maxim. Why couldn’t he have stayed with the carriage?

Timothy’s gaze traveled to Ewald, who waved from their seats. “Why did your male send you to tempt me?”

“He wants an introduction,” Maxim answered.

“To whom?”

“Slavers.” She tried to pull her hand loose but he wouldn’t let go. “We’re heading west and Ewald is looking for information.”

“How much is he willing to pay?”

“I—I didn’t ask.” Pemma tossed Maxim a questioning glance, but the cat only shrugged.

Timothy gathered her against him and guided her to Ewald, his hand resting on her ass. “Let’s go find out shall we?”

Ewald stood.

“This astute gentleman is Timothy.” She tried to remove Timothy’s hand but it returned to her backside.

He squeezed her butt cheek. “I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman before.” He grinned ear to ear. “I like her. Is she for sale?”

Ewald’s mouth flapped.

“No,” Maxim spoke from behind them. He jerked her out of Timothy’s hold.

Timothy’s gaze grew darker and she hid behind Ewald, but somehow doubted her master could stop the cat shifter if he attacked.

Ewald cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you could tell me who I might approach to question about the land far west of here.”

“Why are you so interested in the West? There’s only death in that direction.”

“So we’ve been told.”

“Repeatedly,” she whispered.

Ewald tossed her an admonishing glare over his shoulder. “I have the deed to some land around the Gray Mountains.”

Timothy snorted. “Those are wolf shifter lands. Not yours.”

“I’m sure I could strike a compromise with them. There’s land enough for everyone.”

Timothy’s smile grew thoughtful. “Come to my place of business in the morning. We’ll sit and discuss my adventures out west.” He nodded in her direction. “Bring pretty Pemma with you.”

They arrived in New Berg under the cover of dark, which suited Benic just fine. The fewer prying eyes that saw, the better. Lord Weis would eventually learn of his arrival and he’d have to attend him, but the longer he could postpone that reunion, the happier he’d be.

Ahote paused in the shadows and shifted to civil form, then dressed. His leather kilt reached his knees and he pulled a black sweater over his head. “The smell is going to make me vomit.”

“Breathe through your mouth. If we’re here long, you might get lucky enough to go nose blind.”

He gasped.

“I’m joking.”

“That’s not something to joke about. How would you like it if you suddenly lost your fangs?”

“Who says I haven’t experienced that?” He smiled. His fangs had bought him passage to a secret island in Afrika many, many decades ago. It only took them a few days to grow back. The worst part was having to pull them out.

That was the problem with this younger generation of shifters. They didn’t know how to sacrifice for the greater good.

He handed Ahote their luggage.

“What’s this for?”

“Things will go smoother if you act as my manservant.”

Ahote made a sour face. “There has to be a better way.”

“You could go as my lover.”

“Manservant it is.” He tossed his backpack on and carried Benic’s more elegant saddlebags. It had been years since he’d visited New Berg, but he remembered a nice hotel not far from the center of town. From there, they could work their way through the slave trade section and auction house.

He glanced at the moon. Some of those slave compounds should still be open. If they hurried, they could pay a couple a visit. The hotel Benic chose was small with only two floors, but the building had outside stair access and no security. They also could stable his horse. Things they might need in the future if he couldn’t buy Peder and Kele from the slaver and had to resort to more crass measures. He rented a room on the top floor and had the clerk take their belongings upstairs.

“Come, we can start our search tonight. Have you caught their scents?” He led Ahote back outside and toward the docks.

“I don’t think I could smell them if they stood right in front of me.” He held his hands over his nose. “Dark moon, how can they stand to live like this?”

The narrow sidewalks contained a few shifters doing whatever shifters did at night. None bore the stamp of slaves on their hands so all were domesticated. Probably from Europa, since New Berg was the main port for immigrants. The flickering lights of the streetlamps sent shadows dancing over the faces of strangers.

“It’s not that bad, Ahote. You can’t expect everyone to live like you.”

“I don’t see why not. I like it.”

Benic nodded since he saw no point in arguing with the hunter. “Take your hand off your nose. It makes it obvious that you’re from the wild.”

“I am from the wild.”

“That will make it harder for us to enter the compounds. Stop being so fucking difficult. The slavers obviously won’t trust you if they suspect you’re from the wild, especially without a brand on your hand.”

He lowered his hands and panted from his mouth. Now, he looked insane. That was better than wild though. “What does the brand do?”

“Means you’re a slave.”

Scowling, he glanced around, pointedly staring at everyone’s hands. “Where are we heading?”

“Slaver part of town where all the slaving compounds are built. Some stay open for business late at night.”

“What kind of business can they conduct…” His eyes went wide. A low rumble rolled in his chest. A shifter sharing their sidewalk crossed the street to avoid them. “We need to find Kele now.”

“Yes.” He made Ahote walk, though. Running would draw unwanted attention. In a city, there were all types of predators and Ahote only understood hunting for meat. He didn’t know some had darker hungers.

They took the direct route through the bar and pub area and arrived at the docks. A cool breeze blew in from the ocean.

Benic scanned the busy street—even at this late hour many patrons still walked the area looking for a good time at a cheap price. Rubbing the back of his neck, he tried to avoid imagining Kele in one of these whorehouses. She’d probably tear out the throat of her first customer. His gut clenched. Unless they chained her down…

“Why are we stopping?”

“I’m trying to figure out where to start.” And gather the courage to face what they might find. He eyed the big hunter. This would end badly. He shook his head. He couldn’t avoid it. “Let’s start here then travel north along the water.” Between Sorin wanting his head, dealing with slavers, and keeping Ahote from killing anyone, Benic would likely get the raw end of the deal.

Ahote nodded, his eyes a little wide as a vampire approached them with two fine-looking naked female wolf shifters led by chains.

“Evenin’ chaps. Looking for someone to keep your beds warm tonight?”

Benic clamped his hand over Ahote’s arm before he could respond. “We are, but his tastes run more along the exotic.” He held out his signet ring. Only those of means were issued such a thing from the banks. He could purchase anything if he marked a seal on the bill. The business only had to turn it in to the local branch to receive coin. “I’m looking for someone extra pretty to share with my shifter. Preferably with a nice colored hide.”

“A pretty feral shifter, uh?” The vampire scratched behind his ear. “Whatever floats your boat.” He held out his hand, where Benic set a silver piece from his pocket. The vampire pointed down the street. “They’re running the auction late tonight. If you hurry, you might find something there.”

Benic sensed the tension thrumming off Ahote. “Thank you.” He gave him a polite bow and pulled Ahote along.

“But those females.” Ahote pointed at the slaves.

“We can’t save everyone, Ahote. We’re here for Kele and Peder. That’s it.” He counted the compounds as they strode pass them. Keeping Ahote close didn’t prove to be problematic. He hadn’t expected the shocked silence from someone so sexually active. Maybe Ahote pictured Kele’s face on every female they passed. That could change someone’s perspective. She’d been like a little sister to him.

A large stone building loomed ahead with a thick iron bar gate that was propped open for business. As they crossed the threshold they were met by a well-dressed clerk. The cries of the auctioneer carried loudly.

“I’d like to take a look at your stock.” Benic had to speak up so he could be heard.

“They’re all on stage, my lord.” He led them inside a large, open room. A stage up front held the auctioneer, some guards and about fifteen slaves chained to the floor by their collars.

Ahote growled.

Benic snapped his fingers. “Down.” The command in his voice seemed to shock Ahote since he settled quickly. In another situation, he would have laughed. “Forgive my shifter. He’s impatient. I promised him a pretty female to keep. For his hard work.” He rested his hand on Ahote’s shoulder and squeezed harder than necessary. They were so close and they couldn’t afford for him to wreck everything.

“Of course.” The vampire eyed him. “What method of payment would you like to use? We have an excellent payment plan…”

He held up his ring.

The clerk bowed low. “Please, let me clear a way to the front then, my lord.” He shoved, kicked and elbowed a path clear until they reached the front, where he left them to conduct business.