Blood Vow (Blood Moon Rising) Page 6

  She healed him inch by inch with her hands. His more severe wounds she gently licked. His body steeled beneath her lips.

  Relax, Luca.

  I can’t.

  “Yes you can.”

  He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her hard against him. “How can I relax when all I want is you in my arms and my brother hovers over us like a vulture over roadkill?”

  Falon smiled softly and ran her fingertip along his bottom lip. He caught her finger in his mouth and sucked. Hard.

  Oh, Lucien, how you tempt me.

  His arm tightened around her waist until she was smashed against his chest.

  “Tell Rafe to take a hike,” he said against her lips.

  Her blood warmed despite Rafael’s audience. Maybe more because of it? Tipping her head back, Falon licked her dry lips. It was all the invitation Lucien needed. His lips crashed against hers in a breath-stealing kiss.

  Oh, she wanted to move into him, taste him, touch him, be filled by him. But she could not do this, not now. Not here.

  She pushed off his chest. “Luca, no, not here, not now.”

  His arms circled her waist. “Yes, now.”

  His eyes blazed possessively. She felt herself waver, but—

  He growled low, pressing his forehead to hers. “You make me crazy, angel face.”

  Smiling softly she pressed her lips to the side of his neck where the skin was still raw from the fire. He hissed in another breath when she lightly laved it with her tongue. Feeling his swelling erection against her belly, she did her best to ignore it.

  “Angel face,” he breathed. “I need you.”

  She moved around to his back and admired her healing handiwork. His skin was almost as good as new. There was just one more spot, on the edge of his hip. Dropping to her knees, she gently grasped his thighs, and slowly licked the spot. Carnal fire flared in both their blood.

  “Jesus,” he moaned.

  Her body was not immune to the call of his. Whenever she touched Lucien, especially as intimately as she did now, her muscles loosened and that wondrous spark of desire flashed inside her. But she resisted it. She had to. Because before there was going to be any lovemaking there had to be an understanding, and as she saw it, the survival of the nation required that the three of them remain inseparable. Their combined powers were formidable. Separated, even with two of them united, they would be defeated.

  She’d made up her mind the night the three of them were in the pond. Come hell, high water, or Armageddon, she was going to have both of these stubborn alphas as hers and there wasn’t going to be a damn thing they could do about it. Because she was prepared to play hardball to make them see things the way she saw them. That included seducing them singularly and together, until they understood what she had long known to be true: they were meant to be together as three, and three together they would be.

  Convincing two proud brothers of that was going to be more of a battle than the one coming less than six weeks from now. She smiled as she licked one last time across Lucien’s sensitive hip. She might lose a few battles but she would win the war, and to her the victor would go the spoils.

  She nipped Lucien’s hip and as she stood, gave him a hearty slap on the ass. “Let’s go, Mondragon.”

  Shaking his head, Lucien looked at her with shock, but underlying that was the heat of his desire.

  Seven

  AS THEY APPROACHED a scowling Rafe, Falon curbed her impulse to run to him. For her plan to work, he would have to come to her. She could not tell him he could not live without her even as a threesome, he needed to come to that realization himself.

  “Since we are so powerful as a trio, we must stay together,” she announced. “I’m safer against Fenrir with the two of you than just one of you.” She bit back a smile as she looked at the two scowling alphas. “Do you agree?”

  “It will take the three of us to raise the Cross of Caus. So until then, we’ll have to make the most of it,” Rafe said, none too happy that his brother would be tagging along.

  “Lucien?” Falon asked, looking up at him expectantly.

  His fierce gaze told her his position if his words had not. “I’m not leaving your side.”

  She smiled. “Good, then it’s agreed.” Their scowls deepened. “Oh,” she added nonchalantly. “I want both of you to give me your word that no matter what, while we’re together, there will be no fighting between you as you are now or as wolves.”

  “I can’t promise that!” Lucien said.

  “You ask too much, Falon,” Rafe agreed.

  She put her hands on her hips and threw a hardball. “Then I go it alone.”

  “The hell you will!” Lucien snarled, stepping toward her.

  As exhausted as she suddenly felt, Falon raised her hands, pushing him away from her.

  “Do not push me away,” he whispered, his voice deadly.

  Apprehension skittered through her. How far could she push without having it blow up in her face?

  When Rafe made a move toward her, her resolve galvanized. The only way to get what she wanted was to stay her course. Falon raised her hands again. “Don’t, Rafa. I’m not in the mood to deal with either one of your egos. Agree, or I go it alone.”

  They stood side by side, her two alphas. One her dark and decadent lover, the other her bright shining knight. Oh, how she loved them both. Falon fought back a smile. They were like two petulant boys at the moment, both wanting the same toy and refusing to share. But share they would.

  She quirked an eyebrow.

  “I will agree not to disable Rafael,” Lucien said grudgingly.

  Rafe looked at his brother and scoffed. “As if you could.”

  “I can and I have.”

  Rafe shook his head and looked hard at Falon. “I agree not to disable Lucien.”

  Her smile escaped. For now it would do.

  Rafael’s aqua-colored eyes flared. “I know what you’re thinking, Falon. It will never happen.”

  “Never say never, Rafa.”

  He scowled and mouthed the word, Never.

  Lucien gathered up their swords, and put them in the leather scabbards, then slid them across his shoulders. “Let’s shift and head south. We need to hunt and find a place to regroup and borrow some clothes and provisions.”

  The sudden exhaustion that had settled in moments ago overcame Falon. She was so emotionally depleted; she could barely form another coherent thought. “I don’t want to hunt,” she mumbled, her legs shaking. “I just want to sleep for a week.”

  “We don’t have a week.”

  Rafe looked at Falon. “Can you run?”

  “I think so, but can we find something close?”

  He nodded. “I’ll find something.”

  As they shifted and ran south, Fenrir’s mournful howl filled the air behind them. The hackles on the back of Falon’s neck rose, and for one brief moment she stumbled, feeling a pang of pity for the wolf no pack would accept. But the reality of what he’d propagated over the last eight hundred years, drowned out every emotion except vengeance.

  For hours they ran. Putting hundreds of miles between them and Fenrir. But finally, time and stress caught up with Falon. She dropped, unable to take another step. She had not eaten or drank since they left Vulkasin days ago. Rafael and Lucien moved toward her at the same time. Her eyelids felt like concrete.

  “Please, don’t fight over me. You promised . . .”

  Rafael swooped her up into his strong arms. Immediately Falon’s anxiety left her. She melted into the safe protective cocoon of his body. It was like coming home.

  I’ve missed you so, she whispered, then fell asleep in his arms.

  * * *

  FALON WOKE TO the savory scent of roasting meat in a big soft warm bed. Stre
tching, she winced as her tight muscles bunched into knots before finally loosening. The cut on her back was tender. She would ask Lucien or Rafe to tend it—or not. It would set off a jealous jag of posturing and snarls. Geez—would they ever just get along?

  But how could they, she asked herself. She was asking for two dominant males, each who had marked her and who she in turn had marked, to be cordial to each other when they both wanted to be the one she turned to for all of her needs.

  She was being selfish. Even if there were no power of three, she wanted Lucien and Rafael for herself because she wanted them both. Swallowing hard as she thought of her father and the repercussions of it, she laid back against the headboard.

  Dear God, if they knew about her parentage they would not only never be hers, but they would despise her for eternity if they didn’t kill her first. It was not fair! She had no control over who created her. Why should she pay for their sins? As angry as she was over her parentage, guilt rode her harder. Rafa and Luca deserved the truth, but no matter how terrible the truth was, she could never reveal it. She deserved to live, but more than her life, she would not risk her child’s life. And she could not bear to see the pain, hatred, and disgust in either one of their eyes when she told them.

  She had no choice but to keep her secret. That resignation eased some of her tension.

  Slipping out of bed, Falon got a whiff of herself. Ugh. She needed a bath but her stomach gurgled for food. She found a pale yellow, strappy housedress lying at the foot of the bed. She slipped it on and looked down. The thin linen material was sheer, her nipples clearly outlined. Great. She brought her hair around to the front, and looked down again. Covered. Not that hiding behind her hair and a thin piece of fabric would curb either one of her alpha’s sexual appetites. They were insatiable and voracious. She was counting on that hunger to wrangle them to her way of seeing things. A different hunger had her attention at the moment. Her mouth watered as she headed down the hall toward the kitchen sounds and the delicious scent of food.

  For long moments, Falon watched the brothers from where she stood at the end of the hallway. Rafael cooking, Lucien setting the table. A half a dozen empty beer bottles sat neatly lined up on the counter. It made for quite a hunky domestic scene. Her blood warmed. Was it remotely possible they could work this crazy idea she had out? Time would tell, but she didn’t have a lot of that commodity. By the next full moon, just around the corner they needed to be united in every way possible to prepare for the rising the following month. The thought of all that they could accomplish boggled her mind. But she swallowed hard when she thought of her father. And what it meant to the two men she loved.

  If they loved her as much as they professed, would it matter? Could love trump nearly a thousand years of persecution? The death of their parents? Her belly soured and suddenly she was no longer hungry. She would not survive being abandoned by either Lucien or Rafael for something over which she had no control. Nor could she survive being despised by them with every fiber of their being.

  It mattered. Their hatred for Thomas Corbet was part of who they were, what they were, and what drove them each day. Falon forced herself to calm her nervous stomach. She needed to focus on how she was going to get herself out of this damn mess. Kill her father of course. And in doing so, destroy all doubt in Lucien’s and Rafael’s minds that she was a part of him.

  Turning her attention back to what gave her pleasure, Falon stared at the brothers. It was good to see them so comfortable with each other. They had an unspoken easiness about them. It was uncanny how much alike they were yet how different—Rafael, controlled, methodical; Lucien, out of control but so passionate about what he did, it made up for his lack of self-control.

  Falon smiled as her thoughts shifted to more primal things—like the night in the pond. It had been perfect. Her primordial soul craved it again. It had been the sexiest most amazing moment in her life. Could it be again in their real world? Here, in the huge bed she woke up in? Was it even possible to convince these two proud men that they both belonged to her? She wanted it so badly. She would find a way to make them want it, too.

  She caught her breath, and in that instant Rafael and Lucien became aware of her. And the minute they sensed her presence their entire demeanor changed. They bristled possessively, and made straight for her.

  She shook her head, raising her hands to stop them.

  “Stop, both of you now.” They did as she commanded. Wow, would miracles never cease? Letting out a long breath, she moved between them and as Lucien who was closest to her pulled out a chair, she sat down at the table.

  “I haven’t eaten in days. I’m still exhausted. So right now, I’d like to eat in peace, then get a bath and then, maybe talk.”

  “I cooked some venison,” Rafe said.

  “That I hunted,” Lucien added.

  Falon mentally snickered. “You’re both amazing.” She didn’t dare look at either one of them for fear one would get jealous she didn’t look at him first. So instead she looked around the spacious great room/kitchen, and asked, “Where are we?”

  “A cabin just south of the Washington border,” Lucien said.

  “What about the owners?”

  “When we were scoping out the area, we heard them talking about their plans to head out to Spokane last night,” Rafe explained. “For a week. That should be time enough for you to—do what you need to do.”

  That was one anxiety she didn’t have to deal with. Wondering if the owners were going to come home to the wolf version of the The Three Bears.

  “I think I should be okay in a day or two. I just feel completely depleted.”

  Rafe served her up a huge plate of rare venison. “This should help.”

  She devoured it in minutes and when she licked her fork wanting more, she looked up to find both alphas’ eyes on her. Lucien’s lips quirked at the corner, and Rafael’s eyes danced in amusement.

  “Excuse me, but I was hungry,” she said delicately.

  Rafe slid his untouched plate across the table to her. “Have mine, Falon.”

  Shaking her head, she pushed it back toward him. “You need to eat, too.”

  “There’s an entire deer left, Falon.” He slid the plate back under her nose. The delicious scent wafted temptingly up to her. She dug in and ate, this time slower as she savored the seasoned meat.

  Rafe and Lucien ate heartily and as she watched them under an appreciative eye, she smiled to herself. There were no vegetables or bread, just meat. Typical guy fare.

  “So tell me about this sword,” she said in between bites.

  “Gilda said—” Lucien started.

  “Whoa, slow down, cowboy. Who’s Gilda?”

  “She’s the druid witch that originally gave Fenrir his power,” Rafael explained.

  “In exchange for twin souls every century,” Lucien continued.

  “I don’t understand, how does she play in to this crazy scenario?” It was getting weirder and more complicated by the minute.

  “I was desperate to save you, Falon,” Rafael said, his voice cracking. “I would have done anything to that end. When the gods did not answer me, I called upon that maniacal wolf. I knew he could save you, and he did. For that I am eternally grateful but when he materialized, so did Gilda, and she wanted her souls.”

  “Fenrir was eyeing us,” Lucien said. “As payment, but she didn’t want just one century’s worth of souls, she wanted three centuries worth. Fenrir was having none of that, he zapped her and she was gone.”

  “Then he restored your life and took off with you. While we were trying to reconcile the shock of it all—” Rafael held up his hand with the Eye on Fenrir. “The ring started to go hot on me again. When I asked myself why, she showed up in the form of a spirit and told me I still held the power. She was pissed Fenrir killed her, and she told us if we go to
where the persecution began, which we think is in Wales or close to the Welsh border, we’ll find the Cross of Caus, the only sword that can kill Fenrir. If we kill him, cut out his heart and hand it over to her, she’ll give us a pass by not taking our souls.”

  “So all of that to get a witch off your back?”

  “Not just any witch, a druid witch with power we cannot fathom. But more than that, by agreeing to her terms, she gave us what we needed most. The means to destroy Fenrir once and for all. He goes, the Slayers lose their magic, and finishing them off will be a cinch.”

  Falon saw the exchange between brothers as if asking if they should tell her everything. “What else happened?”

  “Thomas Corbet is alive,” Lucien said.

  She gasped, nearly toppling her glass of water. It was true!

  “He showed up at the dock, Falon. The bastard!” Lucien cursed. Abruptly throwing his napkin on the table, he stood. “He’s as arrogant today as the day he killed my parents. I cannot wait to get my hands on that bastard.”

  Rafe nodded. “I will not sleep peacefully until his entire bloodline is dead.”

  If she had been mule-kicked in the chest it would have hurt less. Struggling to remain calm was proving impossible.

  Lucien stopped his pacing and pulled out the chair he had been sitting in. Turning it around, he straddled it facing Falon. Taking her cold trembling hands into his big warm ones, he said, “He spoke of raising the dead. Slayers, angel face, like our ghost walkers.”

  “How will he do that?” she asked, not liking how terrible she felt. She knew she should tell them about her relation to Corbet, but if she did that now, she would lose them both forever. She could not bear it

  “I don’t know,” Lucien answered. “But it made me realize that they are real, not a legend.”

  Exhaling, Falon squeezed Lucien’s reassuring hands, and let go. She rubbed her head, the sudden ache behind her eyes pounding like an anvil in her forehead. “They spoke to me again, when Fenrir was running with me. They said something about spilling the two bloods where Lycan were born.”