Dark Lycan (27 page)

Daciana glanced upward toward the dragon circling above them. As she did, one of the werewolves leapt from the railing of the porch up to the roof and launched himself skyward at the exposed underbelly of the dragon.

Oh no you don’t.
Tatijana hissed the words in her mind.

She’d had her belly ripped open once and wasn’t about to have it happen again. As the wolf rose, his claws outstretched, she swung her neck around, using her wedged-shaped head as a bat to knock him away from her. He sailed end over end into the canopy of the trees several yards away from the house. He landed hard, snarling, raging and grasping at the branches to keep from falling.

He yelled threats at her, shook his fist and began climbing down fast as she swooped over his head. Tatijana knew it was reckless of her, but even inside the dragon’s body, she felt the rush of adrenaline. The little scream of a child, the sound of crying, had gotten to her as the blood and wounds hadn’t.

The werewolf reversed direction with astonishing speed. She didn’t even see him, just the furious shaking of the branches as he rushed back up the tree to the very top of the canopy and flung himself at her a second time. His claws hooked in the dragon’s softer belly just as Zev came over the top of the roof. Tatijana could see the Lycan moving as if he didn’t have a hundred deep lacerations, as if his belly hadn’t been sliced open. He flowed over the peaked roof, his eyes nearly glowing, the metallic gray color so intense they could have been gems.

He never took his gaze from the rogue attacking her, never looked down to make certain his footing on the pitched roof was solid. His eyes were penetrating, piercing, totally intimidating and unblinking, fixed on his prey. He launched the silver stake. It spun through the early morning light, gleaming, spiraling, rocketing toward its target.

Zev continued running over the roof even as he threw the stake, down the other side and then dropping into the backyard. He landed in a crouch right in the middle of the swarm of werewolves, sword in hand, already drawing another stake from his belt.

The stake spinning through the air flew straight and true, slamming deep into the chest of the rogue clawing at the dragon’s soft underbelly, driving through the heart. The wolf went rigid, dropping like a stone from the sky. Droplets of blood followed him down from where he’d torn the dragon open.

Zev fought his way through the wall of werewolves to get to two of his hunters who were fighting back to back, ringed by the rogues. Both were slashed, bitten and wounded, but neither wavered for an instant. Zev joined them.

“Work your way back to the house,” Daciana called to them.

Daciana and Joie cut between the wolves and the back door, each coming in from a different side, presenting a united front and a barrier to the entrance of the house. Destiny burst out of the back door, joining them. She was covered in blood.

Joie frowned. “You all right?”

“It’s mostly Gary’s. He’s in bad shape. I called in Gregori, but I doubt he’ll get here in time.” Destiny’s voice was grim. “Shea’s doing what she can.”

The wolf directly in front of her leapt over her, crashing into a window, shattering the glass. A child’s wail came from somewhere inside. Daciana leapt after the rogue, landing on his back, driving him down to the ground. He was strong, pushing himself up fast with both hands and legs, trying to shake her off of him.

“To the house,” Zev directed his hunters.

“Lykaon is down,” Daciana yelled. “North corner.”

Zev and the two other hunters with him aggressively began fighting their way to their fallen brethren. The other two Lycans both made their way toward the corner as well. Lykaon was on the ground, more dead than alive.

Tatijana could see blood spraying into the air and three wolves tearing at the body. Frustrated, she circled again. If the Lycans would just get to the porch, she knew she could lay down a stream of flames that would take the fight out of the remaining wolves. As hard as they fought, the pack kept the hunters back from their downed comrade.

Tatijana couldn’t stand it. She wasn’t going to sit up safe in the sky while one of the Lycan fighters was being torn apart or eaten alive right under her nose. She dove fast, folding her wings close to her body and sped toward the yard. Trees were close and she was forced to shift to tiny molecules and streak down to the fallen Lycan.

She shifted again just before she landed, her dragon breathing a steady stream of red-orange flames to clear out the wolves as she hovered just above Lykaon. The wolves tearing at him caught fire. The scent of burnt flesh and fur filled the air.

Tatijana was extremely vulnerable on the ground. The moment the wolves were off the body, she gathered the fallen warrior in her front talons and took to the air with him. A dozen rogues leapt at her. Most hit her scales and dropped off, but one flung himself onto her back and sank teeth into her neck—or tried to—the spikes and scales prevented him from harming her.

She had to work hard to get airborne with the injured Lycan in her talons and the wolf on her back. Two more tried to grip her tail, but she thrashed it hard and they fell away. Again, it was Zev who came to her aid. He threw a knife, and just like the stake, the throw was done with deadly accuracy. The wolf on her back grunted hard and fell away, leaving her to rise easily. She circled, watching for her chance as the Lycans fought their way to the porch.

With so many defenders, the few werewolves who had tried to gain entrance into the house abandoned the small confines for the yard. Tatijana tucked Lykaon close to her body and once more dove, spraying a steady stream of flames through the pack, setting most on fire. Just as in the front yard, the burning wolves retreated, rolling to try to put out flames while the hunters emerged and did their best to destroy as many as possible.

Tatijana landed in the front yard, grateful that Daciana and Destiny ran to take the fallen Lycan from her. She was weak, exhausted and bleeding. The moment she shifted, her knees nearly gave out.

Destiny glanced at her over her shoulder while she and Daciana half carried Lykaon toward the house. “You all right? Can you make it?”

Tatijana nodded. The werewolves were on the run, but it wasn’t safe. Nearly every defender had been wounded, many of them seriously. She knew many members of the rogue pack would linger to try to get in as many kills as possible. She forced her shaky legs to work and made it to the porch just as Gregori and Jacques emerged, startling her. Jacques immediately reached his arm out her to steady her.

Both men looked as if they’d been in a war zone. They were covered in wounds and blood, Gregori especially. She couldn’t see how he could still be standing. He had to be in pain, but there was only purpose etched into his face.

Gregori flung open the door to the house. “Where is he?”

The wounded lay, sat or stood waiting for Shea’s attention. Joie, Destiny and Daciana began to help her attend them. Shea looked up the moment they entered. Jacques helped Tatijana to a chair and went immediately to his lifemate.

“Are you all right?” Zev asked.

Tatijana nodded. “I lost a little blood. I’m not nearly as bad as the rest of you.”

“We got our asses handed to us,” Zev said with a sigh. “This pack is very large. Too large. It doesn’t make sense.” He looked around the room. “Where’s Fen?”

Tatijana let out her breath slowly. “They hit us in three different locations. At first we thought just the farm, but then when we discovered the pack had been divided into thirds, we divided our forces. Fen has experience fighting them, so he went on to the third location.”

Zev nodded. “Makes sense.” He looked around at the wounded. “Where’s Gary? He saved my life and I wanted to thank him.”

There was a small pregnant silence. Shea looked at Gregori and shook her head. “I did what I could. He’s holding on to see you.”

Gregori strode into the room Shea indicated. It smelled of death and blood. Gabrielle, Joie’s sister, sat beside Gary, holding his hand. There were tears on her face. Gary was gray, pain edging every line.

His eyes met Gregori’s.

“You look like hell,” Gregori greeted.

Gary tried a smile that didn’t quite come off. “You look the same.” Even his voice was no longer his own, but a mere thread.

Gregori stood over Gary, his silver eyes nearly liquid. “You have accepted our way of life, my brother. You are jaguar, which means you can become one of us.”

Gary shook his head.

Gabrielle gasped. “I don’t understand. Why are you even hesitating? Gregori can save you this way.”

Gregori gently moved her away from the fallen man. He put his hand over Gary’s very gently. “He knows the human perspective will be lost once he becomes Carpathian and so far, that perspective has served us well.” He knelt beside Gary, leaning close. “I will do what I can, and give you my blood, but know this, you are my brother-kin. I do not lose kin easily. If I see this will not work, protest or not, I will convert you. Do you understand?”

Gary managed a nod. He closed his eyes and slipped into unconsciousness. Gregori sank to the floor beside him and quickly shed his body to begin the work of healing the man who had been more of a brother to him than his blood brothers.

11

F
rom his vantage point above the Dubrinsky home, Fen studied every detail carefully. There was a feel to the mountain that made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t tell if it was an actual defense in place, a safeguard, or the
Sange rau
were already well ahead of him. He allowed his senses to flare out, reaching beyond the boundaries he’d always imposed on himself.

Being
Sange rau
could be dangerous, much more so the more often one used the incredible gifts. Arrogance and superiority were treacherous, insidious traits, threatening the very moral fiber of one’s beliefs. Without Tatijana to keep him grounded, Fen knew the things he had done and would do this day were inherently risky.

Carpathians were born of the earth. Most of their safeguards were woven from natural things and reinforced with spells from the mages when the two species had been close. There were always psychic footprints. No one could move or breathe without expending some energy, and Carpathians were very good at feeling or seeing it.

Lycans were born of the earth as well. Both species epitomized both ends of the spectrum. They were predators, fast and ferocious. They enjoyed the battle and both had a taste for blood. On the other hand, they were loyal and dedicated to their mates and children. Both species put honor and integrity high on their list of attributes. They were willing to sacrifice for the better of their species.

Both species embraced the night. Both read the wind. And both were gifted with tremendous powers. There had always been a balance. As many gifts that both species had, each had weaknesses. The
Sange rau
didn’t have such a balance and that could be a very bad thing.

Fen continued to scan the mountain behind the Dubrinsky home as well as the surrounding forest and clearing around it. He took his time, patient as always. Often in a battle, the first to move was the first to die. He was facing not one, but two
Sange rau
. It was often the little things that gave one an advantage. He knew from experience nature spoke to him if he just listened.

His connection to Mother Nature was stronger than ever and each small shift of the wind brought him information he might not have picked up on. Small nuances, but now they told such stories. There were ripples running over the ground leading to Mikhail Dubrinsky’s home. He could see them, as if they were tides ebbing and flowing in the sea.

Around the house itself, up and down the stone walls and even beyond to the mountain where the structure was built into it, thousands of symbols and patterns ran like an endless loop. It looked a bit like the code on a computer, moving fast and changing rapidly. It would be impossible for a vampire or a Carpathian or even a Lycan to read it that fast. But he was none of those things and neither was the enemy he was hunting. The
Sange rau
could process that fast.

Scattered throughout the ground surrounding the house from every direction, he spotted disturbances in the earth. He wasn’t certain whether he saw those because he had mixed blood and heightened senses, or if his connection to Mother Earth provided the information. Nevertheless, the traps were revealed to him and he had to believe they would be to his enemy as well.

Another small shift in the wind brought another scent he recognized instantly.
Dimitri. Are you insane? You cannot come here. You should be in the earth, healing.

Little brothers were the very devil. Dimitri had always gone his own way, even as a child. He was stubborn and made up his own mind about things. It wasn’t that he ever argued. He was quiet about his stubbornness. He simply did what he thought was right.

Did you really think I’d let you come here alone and face these killing machines?
Dimitri asked, taking the offensive, which was another trait Fen remembered from when his brother was a child.

Dimitri materialized out of the sky, right beside him. He looked pale, almost translucent, but as tough and as implacable as ever. When Dimitri made up his mind to do something, it took a miracle to change it.

“You never did have any sense,” Fen answered, but he was secretly proud of Dimitri. His brother was the type of warrior to find a way, no matter how injured, to come to his aid, especially when the battle looked hopeless. “You know we’ll be lucky to come out of this alive.”

“When has it been any other way?” Dimitri asked.

“They’re after the prince,” Fen pointed out. “This place is a death trap for vampires, but it isn’t going to stop either of the
Sange rau
. If I can see the traps and safeguards, they will be able to as well.”

Dimitri studied the ground below him. “Just how much of your blood is running in my veins?”

Fen frowned. “Why? Can you see the traps, too?”

“Not exactly. I know something’s there. And I feel the mountain’s off. Different. It feels like a living, breathing sentry to me.”