So that he could make her his own.
With that thought came the surge of strength that Lily had been yearning for. She jerked frantically in his hold, yanking at her arm as hard as she could, but Cole’s grip was fast and she only managed to bruise herself in her efforts. Even as she fought against him, Malcolm calmly led her toward the center of the room, where Tabitha sat tied to the chair, now sobbing into her gag once more. The red-haired woman stood beside her, a horrible smirk on her over-tanned, slightly orange face.
“Lily, this is Eva,” Malcolm told her, his tone conversational. “She is going to remove Kane’s mark for us.”
With that, he nodded toward the older woman and she straightened as if prepared to take charge. “Hold her down,” she instructed. “This is going to hurt her, and I need uninterrupted access to the mark.”
Malcolm immediately nodded toward Thomas, who came forward to help. James and Isaac still stood where they’d stopped as they’d entered the living room, their eyes silently taking everything in.
Lily’s heart slammed hard against her rib cage. Despair washed over her. Oh God, no! she thought. What have I done? No, no, no, no….
In a matter of short seconds, the two werewolves had her on her back in the center of the carpet, her arms and legs spread eagled. Thomas held her legs. Malcolm pressed each of her wrists into the rug. His eyes bored into hers. But she managed to look away. Dread was fueling her now and the one she dreaded had long red hair and baked skin.
“What are you going to do?” Lily asked her, dangerously close to hysterics.
“It’s a complicated spell, I’m afraid,” Eva told her as she went about placing candles around them on the carpet. “But lucky for us, I anticipated your consent and started it before you got here.” The candles were a strange red-brown-black color and when the woman lit them, they smelled truly terrible.
It’s blood, Lily thought. I know it is.
“Yes,” Eva told her, a malicious delight lacing her words. “It is blood. Smells enticing, doesn’t it?”
Lily watched with horror as the candles began to melt at the top and rivulets of thick red liquid dropped down the sides to pool on the white-beige carpet, staining it crimson.
And then Eva was kneeling beside Lily’s prone form, her hands extended, palms down, over the blue line that marked Lily’s arm and shimmered hopelessly in the candle light.
Thunder rolled outside. The sun was setting and a storm was coming in its wake.
Tabitha began to struggle where she was tied in her chair. Lily’s eyes found hers and they locked on to one another in shared desperation. Lily had nothing left to bargain with; she realized that now. Once the mark was gone, Malcolm would simply claim her. There was nothing she would be able to do to stop it. It would probably be violent and Lily would never again know a moment of peace.
But what hurt even more was the knowledge that, with her consent, she’d given away any hope she had of bartering for Tabitha’s freedom. She had no guarantee that he would let her go. In fact, why would he?
He was a killer. And he wouldn’t want the werewolves interfering with whatever plans he had for her new future. He would kill Tabitha. And then he would find a way to kill Daniel too.
As if he could sense what she was thinking, Malcolm squeezed her wrists tighter, painfully, purposefully drawing her attention back up to him. He captured her gaze and held it; his dark look was a promise.
Lily sobbed.
Eva began to chant. They were words that Lily did not recognize.
Daniel’s mark began to glow. Lily’s eyes widened. She gazed at it, fascinated, until it began to sting. And then that stinging became a sharp, slicing pain – and that pain laced up her arm and across her chest, ripping a piercing cry from her throat. She arched against the sudden torture and Thomas and Malcolm re-enforced their grips.
Eva continued to chant her horrible magic and another scream emanated from Lily’s throat. It did nothing to alleviate the pain. Another scream – another racing agony – another roaring roll of thunder from outside that drew closer with each evil second.
Eva’s chant ended, but she continued to hold her hands palms down over Lily’s mark and the magic continued to work as the sickening smoke from the candles rose in red-black wisps and seemed to swirl into strange shapes before it dissipated entirely.
In the back of her mind, Lily became aware of a second rumbling sound. It wasn’t the thunder. It was closer.
It’s Cole, she thought, just before another wave of agony ripped another harsh cry from her throat. She looked up as she screamed and found Malcolm was no longer watching her. He was pinning Eva with his deadly gaze. His low warning growl echoed off of the walls of the house. He bared his teeth and hissed, “If she screams again, woman, you will be screaming along with her.”
“Didn’t I tell you that it would be painful?” Eva returned defensively. “It can’t be helped!”
And then, suddenly, Eva froze and her head snapped up. “No,” she said, anger etching the lines of her face into a mask of contempt. “Not now!”
The pain in Lily’s body then began to recede. Her screams weakened and died in her throat, leaving her drained.
Malcolm’s head snapped up and he snarled, a second, angrier growl escaping his throat and reverberating throughout the room. He looked to Thomas, whose fangs were prominent and whose eyes had gone black. And then they both turned to Isaac and James, who were also in supernatural fight mode.
Lily watched them with the dawning interest that can only come when a person is not in horrid pain. That agony that had gripped her in taloned hands was now ebbing from her chest and retreating back down her arm to pool once more around the intricate blue line that shimmered on her forearm.
“The spell is broken,” Eva hissed, all disappointment. “He is near.”
Malcolm let out an entirely inhuman bellow of animalistic rage and stood, dragging Lily up with him. Lightning flashed and thunder crashed, almost simultaneously. Thomas stood once more and watched his boss, ready to spring into action.
Lily was stunned at the sudden change and could not make heads nor tails of what was transpiring. But Tabitha had stopped sobbing, and there was a weird buzz in the air. Maybe it was the storm. Maybe it was something else….
Suddenly, Lily felt a familiar warmth wash over her. The mark on her arm tingled. Comfort spread through her. It was like being covered in fleece on a cold day. Like a rain shower on a scorching summer afternoon.
“It’s Daniel,” she found herself whispering. The corners of her mouth had turned up into a very soft smile. Malcolm noted the smile with a look of pure darkness and Lily was almost sorry that she’d let it slip.
He pulled her to him, bending to lift her into his arms. Those arms were bands of steel around her slim form, holding her fast as he suddenly blurred into motion and Lily was struck with the vertigo that comes with moving too fast without warning.
She cried out as somewhere behind her, in the blur that had been the living room – and even the house – there was a crashing sound.
She heard shouts and fighting, gun shots, breaking glass. Lightning and thunder. But the sounds faded quickly. Rain pelted her painfully and the world spun faster and faster. She was forced to tuck her head into Malcolm’s chest as he continued to move them both impossibly fast through the blurring, changing world. She had no idea where they were going. But as she waited to find out, she found herself crying, staining his shirt wet beneath her cheek.
Some of the tears were tears of fear – for her and for Daniel. Some of them were of relief – for Tabitha. And just one of the tears was for hope: For the mark that still remained stubbornly on her arm.
Chapter Nine: Take Down
James Valentine watched the scene unfolding before him with a growing sense of disquiet. He could not show this unease, of course. But it was there. He wouldn’t have been able to mark the point in time that spiked this unrest within him. Whether it was Lily’s useless strugg
le as Cole shamelessly exploited her weakness and poured wave after wave of his power over her, or her palpable regret and despair when she’d given in - or the screams of agony that issued from her throat as Eva Black’s spell had coursed through her veins – somewhere and for some reason along the way, Valentine’s fangs had elongated once more. His eyes had darkened. He barely suppressed the low, rumbling growl that had threatened its way up his throat.
Lily screamed again and, in a display that took James a little by surprise, Malcolm Cole threatened the witch. James was impressed by this show of compassion toward the Dormant. Impressed – but not surprised. Lily St. Claire was a very precious woman. The witch’s fear of Cole was instantly detectable, a stench that rode even over the putrid reek of her bloody candles.
But when the red-haired woman insisted that it couldn’t be helped, Valentine’s right hand had balled into a fist. He hated this. He knew it then, in that instant. He hated seeing Lily suffer. And he didn’t even know her.
And then something potent and unseen had sliced through the air; a scent and a strange buzzing. It claimed the instant attention of every werewolf in the room.
“No!” the witch hissed. “Not now!”
Cole’s head snapped up and his gaze slid across the darkened windows of the living room. A storm raged beyond, lightning strikes illuminating the surrounding yard like flash photography.
James had slid into fight mode. He felt the flash coming on – that brief rip in reality that surrounded a werewolf’s body as he transformed from man to beast. When the need was great, the flash of change was something that could barely be kept at bay by the most experienced of werewolves. He was a very old werewolf and was only managing to withstand it.
He could sense them out there. He could smell them – even hear them now. Their breathing – their heartbeats.
Kane had come for his mate. And he’d brought his pack.
“The spell is broken. He is here.”
Malcolm Cole roared with rage and stood, jerking Lily St. Claire to him as he did so.
Then the world dissolved into melted paints of chaos. Cole lifted Lily into his arms and blurred through one of the windows, shattering it as he disappeared. He was the only werewolf Valentine had ever known who could move so fast.
Isaac growled beside James and Valentine turned in time to see the teenage werewolf surrounded by a brief aura of white light that radiated outward and then collapsed within a split second. When it was gone, Isaac’s human form was gone as well. In its stead stood a large light brown wolf with gray eyes. It bared its teeth, its hackles raised.
Thomas went next, flashing into a giant dark brown wolf with amber eyes.
As the front door to the house crashed open, along with two more of the living room windows, James allowed himself to transform as well. One moment, he was a tall man in black clothing – the next, a huge black wolf with molten mercury eyes.
When his eyes adjusted to the change, he made a quick assessment of the situation. Thomas had already been engaged by another werewolf, and the two were embraced in a snarling blur of brown and gray fur. Isaac bolted across the living room toward a brown wolf that had just crashed through one of the windows.
Someone had sliced a claw through Tabitha’s bonds and the young woman was scooting back across the carpet, hurriedly pulling off her gag and the remaining rope fragments that dangled from her arms and legs.
Eva Black had pulled a gun from her bag of vile supplies and was holding it with shaking hands, her eyes bugging to golf-ball size, ridiculously white against the leather of her face. She wasn’t sure who to point it at. She waved it at Tabitha, who eyed her with a death glare. Then she waved it at the wolves. It seemed she would shoot at anyone; he could scent her reason leaving her, along with what smelled like urine.
Valentine waited. He sniffed the air. His hackles rose.
He turned in place and came face to face with a second black wolf, nearly larger than himself, with piercing blue eyes that glowed eerily in the darkness. The blue-eyed wolf bared its fangs, its low, reverberating growl so ominous that it caused the kitchen cupboards to tremble on their hinges.
James Valentine knew an alpha male when he saw one. And Daniel Kane was one of the most imposing alphas he’d ever laid eyes on. He was also one of the angriest.
James had a few precious seconds to brace for the impact before it hit, and then Kane was on top of him and the two were rolling end over end across the living room floor. Beneath them the candles sputtered and went out, their flames doused by rain and rolling bodies. Blood matted in their fur and splotched across the carpet in a growing exhibition of grisly red stains.
James fought off Kane’s attack for all that he was worth, but the younger alpha practically radiated determination. James was thrown into a wall and slid to the ground, only to be set upon once again by Kane’s massive blue-black form. Blow upon blow reigned down on the older wolf – a draining bite here, a slam there.
At one point, he vaguely registered the distinctive sound of a flash as someone around him transformed from wolf to human. He had no time to wonder who it was or why. Kane would not let up.
And then, as he was thrown once more against the wall, he had the fleeting realization that Kane had yet to use his claws. He had yet to even attempt to rip the older wolf’s throat out, as most enemies would do. Instead, he had been knocking him violently about, banging him up, draining him – weakening him.
As Valentine slid to the ground and registered the sound and light from another transformation flash, he comprehended what Kane was doing. He wanted him alive. And the sudden strong grip around his furry neck confirmed as much.
The air was quickly choked from his lungs and James could not prevent the change that flashed him back into human form. Instantly, his hands were around Daniel’s strong arm, attempting to pull the younger alpha off of him.
But Daniel Kane was immovable. His eyes were burning an intense sapphire, and with a sinking feeling, James noticed the red spark in the center of their depths.
It was the red spark that could grow into the killing flame that possessed so many werewolves these days. Werewolves that went mad without ever claiming their mates.
“Where is she?” Daniel’s voice had become that of a monster’s, a deep, unnatural growl that clawed at Valentine’s insides.
James gazed into that blue gaze of slip-sliding madness and gritted his teeth. He thought of Lily. Of her gentle touch and the empathy he’d seen in her gold-flecked eyes. “You don’t deserve her, Kane. She’s too good for you,” he ground out, barely managing the air he needed to speak.
In response, Daniel smiled an utterly nasty smile, flashing his blood-stained fangs. His grip tightened on James’s throat. But James was an alpha too. And he had more than a shred of determination running through his own ancient blood. He narrowed his silver gaze and went on. “You have no idea how special she is and you’re obviously too stupid to protect her properly.”
At that, Kane pulled James away from the wall and then slammed him back into it. The wounds James had suffered were not healing; they would not heal for weeks because they’d been created by another werewolf. He’d lost blood and his lungs screamed for air. But he was angry now. Fire flashed through his mind’s eye. Love and loss and pain and hate.
“Where. Is. She.” The red in Kane’s eyes grew, casting an ominous violet glow into his once sapphire gaze. Valentine could feel the alpha’s power rolling off of him. It was most likely something that the younger wolf had not even yet learned to master. But it was certainly potent.
James pushed against it with a wave of his own. “I saw the bruises you put on her wrists, Kane,” he growled. His fangs ached to draw blood. “You hurt her.”
At that, Kane blinked. The red flame at the center of his pupils receded a little.
“But she doesn’t deserve to spend the rest of her life with Cole,” James continued. “So I’m going to help you. On one condition.”
Kane’
s grip loosened ever so slightly. His expression reflected the warring emotions within him. James held his gaze and waited, staring the alpha down.
From behind them came the sounds of continued struggle. James had no idea who was winning or what was happening. But he smelled blood. Not just from the candles – fresh blood and lots of it. He had heard gun shots. If he had to guess, he would estimate that there were a dozen werewolves in that room at that moment and that only three of them were not members of Daniel Kane’s pack.
Kane was going to win this fight; that was a given to Valentine. But he didn’t care. What he cared about, at that moment, was doing what was right. It was a liberating feeling, after all of these years, to finally care about something again.
And it also kind of sucked. It was like feeling pain after being numb. Having fears once more after having nothing to lose.
He cherished it anyway. And, in turn, he cherished the woman who had given it to him.
“What do you want?” Kane finally asked, releasing the death grip he’d had on Valentine’s throat. James swallowed once, painfully, and then took that breath he’d been waiting for. His lungs expanded avidly, but he kept his calm. This was not his first rodeo.
“I want Guardian rights.” That was what he wanted. To protect Lily St. Claire. Saying it out loud only reinforced his desire. Guardian rights would allow him to become the equivalent of a godfather to Lily. Only, within the werewolf clans, such a right came with great power.
Kane’s expression darkened once more, the fire in his eyes leaping back to life.
Valentine did not back down. “If she runs from you again, Kane, she’ll know, in her blood, to come to me. And you won’t be able to touch her. Guardian rights. And I’ll tell you where Cole has taken her.”
Kane growled menacingly. “I can smell her on you, Valentine,” he hissed. “More than the others.” With an angry roll of power, Kane drew back his fist and slammed it through the wall beside Valentine’s head. James didn’t even flinch. “Why is that?” Kane demanded. “What did you do?” There was silence behind him. Apparently, the fighting had ended.