Wolf pack, p.12
Wolf Pack, page 12
She smiled, and his heart tripled. She stepped out of the protection of her tent and into the rain. “I don’t want to forget. I can’t forget. You are important to me, Ferth. You are the bright spots in my past.”
A wave of heat rolled over him, fueled by hope and desire. And uncertainty—how could she say that? He had been her Draco master.
Her thick eyelashes blinked raindrops away as she turned those big green eyes up. She licked water off her lips. This was what he’d dreamed of. She stood before him, not as his slave, but as a woman. Her strength had never been more beautiful.
“I’m in love with you.” He hadn’t meant to release those words from their cage, but now that he had, his heart soared with wild freedom. He had no secrets left to poison him. Joy split his face into a smile.
Suza swallowed. “I think I might have been in love with you since the morning I was sent to your barrack.”
Ferth laughed, a combination of shock and pure pleasure blooming through him. “You couldn’t resist me hung over and stinking?”
She chuckled. “That’s not the part I was referring to.”
He arched one eyebrow. “Ah. The nakedness.”
Red painted her cheeks above the laugh she quickly forced into a scowl. She looked down at his chest, speaking to his shirt instead of his face. She played with a button on his sternum. “You let me think I had some power.”
“You still have all the power.” He wrapped her hand with his, holding it to his chest. Her eyes lifted to meet his gaze.
“You protected me,” she whispered.
His blood heated. Could she truly think of him with such generosity? “And you stole my heart and my sanity.”
“You’re blaming your crazy on me?” Thick lips curved into a crescent.
He inched closer. His arm went around her waist. At the feel of her under his fingers, he drew her against his body. She opened her mouth to speak again, but he was done with words. His lips met hers, starting a new conversation. Rain turned to steam as it struck hot skin.
He drank her in, intoxicated by her familiar scent.
She rolled onto her tiptoes, sliding her arms around his neck and drawing him tighter against her eager mouth.
Vaguely he sensed his wolves wander off. Lyko’s mocking laughter echoed behind him. A touch of pride and approval floated away from Rom.
He’d wanted to hold her and kiss her for so long. When she had been his slave, he’d allowed her to live in fear, enjoying his power. He had taunted her, touched her, and toyed with her. He’d barely held back from forcing himself on her.
As her mouth softened under his and his hands melted against her warm curves, Ferth jerked back, suddenly fearful of the memories, and overcome with guilt.
She looked at him in surprise, her eyes wide and dark.
The rain did little to dampen the fire kindling in his gut. He loosened his grip on her ribs, creating space between her softness and his chest. “I can’t do this. This isn’t fair to you.” He was still a monster, his desire clouding his thoughts and urging him, even now, to take what he wanted. “I don’t deserve you.”
She laid a hand over his pounding heart. “I know you, Ferth.”
“Then you know what I have done.”
“I do.”
He held his breath.
“And I forgive you. I trust you.”
He shook his head. “It can’t be that easy.”
She snorted. “You think this was easy? You think these weeks of watching you torture yourself with guilt have been easy? You think it was easy to watch you turn on your own Draco unit to protect me and Cal and then again in battle as you fought and killed your friends to defend Elysium?”
He shuddered beneath her words. Could she mean it? He ran a hand over her dark wet mane. He pressed his brow to hers. Their breath intermingled. Her lips called to him. “Thank you.”
He pulled away as she nodded. Her lip trembled. His thumb came up and touched her quivering mouth. His palm engulfed her cheek. His blood was a rage of wanting. He dropped his hand. She caught it before it fell. “I’ll be here when you return.”
Her words and her shining face filled his body with such longing it frightened him. “I will not blame you if you aren’t. I expect nothing, deserve nothing, but I will hope for the chance to earn your trust and forgiveness. And maybe, if the stars are very good to me … one day… your love. If you’ll let me try.”
“I’d like that.” Her smile warmed him more than the summer sun.
He grinned. “Maybe I’ll get some tips on courting from the fancy humans in Mitera.”
“Their ideas have to be better than the Draco Sang’s methods.”
Their laughter danced with the rain.
She sobered first. “Your mother will be so proud. I’m grateful that you will get to know her.” Something like pain marred Suza’s tone.
What had happened to her mother? How had she overcome her beast with a father like Gristlecove? He wanted to know everything. He hoped for the time to find out. He hoped for a lifetime.
“We will tell each other all about our mothers when we are together again.” He smiled at the look of hope on her face.
She lifted a determined chin.
“Until then.”
“Stay safe.” He kissed her, a soft brush against her lips before letting go.
She stood in the rain and watched him walk away.
Ferth’s heart was a pulpy mass of hope and pain as he made his travel preparations.
Departure was a quiet affair, a select few gathered in Captain Titus’s tent with good-byes and final instructions. Heavily cloaked and under cover of darkness, Ferth, Lyko, Rom, Raja Darius, and six soldiers slipped southward. With the darkness and the rain, they had high hopes of escaping unnoticed by the Draco Sang.
Twenty-two - Spotted
THIRRO
“Ferth and his wolves, guarded by seven soldiers, left camp a quarter of an hour ago. They took the southern road on horseback,” said a grey and tan owl flyer with long ears. He knelt before Laconius. His wings quivered as he tucked them against his back. “Although Ferth looks like he’s barely hanging onto the reins.” The scout laughed, but when Laconius didn’t echo the humor, the Draco clamped his mouth shut.
Thirro shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The feast on the tables mocked his screaming guts. His battle wounds seemed to harmonize with his cacophony of pain. Had war been too much for Ferth? The coward was fleeing after a little blood? Did the traitor think he could escape?
No matter where you go, I will find you, and I will kill you.
Rain drummed against the tent, reminding Thirro of his injured, grounded condition. He reached out, and a slave quickly handed him a mug of mead. At least as Skotar’s Arrow he was still granted access to the command tent instead of being told to eat with the common soldiers in the crowded dining tent like Dara.
“How far out are the human’s reinforcements?” Laconius asked.
“The army made camp south of Kiptos when the rain hit, and they didn’t travel yesterday. If they march in the morning, two thousand troops should reach the Lion’s camp by nightfall tomorrow.” The flyer remained kneeling; he looked too sick and tired to stand. “Ferth’s small group looks set to reach this army in a few hours.”
“Let’s hit Ferth before he reaches the troops,” Captain Mina said.
Bold words for someone who couldn’t fly and looked like she could barely walk.
Laconius scanned the ashy faces of his commanders, his black eyes landing on Thirro.
Don’t ask me. Thirro rolled to the side and vomited all the mead in his stomach onto a slave’s lap. She gasped. Her eyes watered as she stood. She whimpered and bolted from the command station.
Laconius’s lip curled in disgust. “Captain Mina, how do you plan to take him? Few of our flyers are capable of flying in these weather condition even at their peak and in their current state …”
Mina squirmed in her seat, and red blotched her furry cheeks.
The chief continued. “The traitor escapes tonight, but he will not live much longer. Bring me a plan by morning for the head of the new baby king and the traitor. The humans didn’t learn the first time. We’ll strike the heart again.”
“Yes, chief,” Mina said.
Thirro followed Mina out when she left command.
She turned to face him when she’d reached the door of her tent. Her gaze raked over him. “Are you thinking of joining me?”
His tongue slipped over the scar on his lip from her canine. Definitely not. He forced a confident smile. “I’ve got a plan to bring down Ferth.”
Twenty-three - Traveling
FERTH
The rain stopped after the third day. It helped Ferth’s riding tremendously, but he still sat on the horse stiffly. He’d been given the most docile animal in camp, but he couldn’t stop worrying the large horse would buck her stupid rider off at any moment. At least Darius wasn’t holding the lead rope anymore. Ferth had spent the first night just trying to stay on, while his horse had followed Darius’s, nose to tail for miles.
He kept expecting Darius to lose patience and lash out as Laconius surely would have, but three days in, even when one of the guards had left a cooking pot behind, Darius remained steady and respectful. Even Keturah would have been impressed, and that woman was unflappable.
The troops they’d met up with the first night had seemed duly roused and willing to march north in the rain. They should have arrived at Titus’s camp yesterday. Thoughts of Suza flittered against Ferth’s eyes and his skin.
Keep her safe, he willed the human troops. Protect her. He wondered again if he was doing the wrong thing by leaving her at the border. He’d be back soon. And with many more soldiers.
“We’ll stop there.” Darius pointed.
Ferth looked up in surprise. Pale yellow lights flickered on the horizon. They’d previously avoided the small settlements they’d passed.
“It’s Zepha. We’ll sleep well at the inn and travel by daylight tomorrow.”
It was not far past midnight. They’d only been traveling for four hours, but Ferth nearly swooned at the thought of a warm, dry bed and hot food. His clothes were still damp in places, and his feet were wet raisins.
“It’s good road now to Mitera. We’ve done what we can to slip the Draco scouts, and I’d like to pick up the pace.”
He thought of his saddle-sore thighs and cringed. “Yes, sir.”
“Make sure Rom and Lyko don’t come within a mile of the village,” Darius said.
Ferth smiled at the use of their names. He’d noticed that few called them anything more than the wolves, as if they were nothing more than wolves.
He’d sent them into the woods immediately upon departing Titus’s camp. They’d paralleled Ferth’s southern route. He tracked them in his mind, but he missed them by his side. Two days ago, they’d snuck into camp and slept at his back, slipping away again before the sunset.
Lyko had traversed this area once before with Cal, and he’d adopted an air of arrogant teacher as he’d led Rom around.
“This is where a stray dog thought it would be a good idea to try and attack me. This is where Cal got his boot caught in a gopher hole. This is where Eio had diarrhea from eating too much washee straw. Titus made him sleep a mile downwind of us. Nastiest tang …” And just to prove it, Lyko drew up a memory of the scent and blasted it across their connection.
Rom whined and sat back on his haunches as if slapped.
Ferth gagged as his brain bristled against the onslaught of stink. He pitched forward over his horse, trying to cough out the smell of acid, sulfur, and fermented seeds.
“Are you alright?” The soldier riding next to Ferth asked.
“Yes.” He pulled himself together and waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine. Excuse me.”
Lyko’s laughter echoed through their connection.
Ferth could almost imagine Cal here sharing his jokes with them too. If only he had lived. The wanting was a stone wedged in his ribs.
“How did you share a smell?” Rom asked, recovering enough to stand and sulk past Lyko. The wolves were crossing a field a half-mile to the east of Ferth.
“Never do it again,” Ferth said.
“Cal and I figured it out once when we had a disagreement on whether Grandpapi’s breath smelled worse than Aunt Elssa’s hasii broth.”
Ferth laughed, drawing more curious gazes from the soldiers around him. No wonder they kept their distance. He must look like a lunatic.
“And what did you decide?” Rom asked.
“I decided I have an excellent nose.” Lyko sniffed. “And I can share certain smells if they are strong enough in my memory.”
“Not what I meant,” Rom said. “Which smelled worse?”
“Want me to test them both out on you and let you decide?”
Ferth and Rom both said, “No,” at the same time.
“Don’t you have any good scents to share?” Ferth asked. “This horse doesn’t smell too pleasant … and neither do I.”
“Let me try,” Rom said.
The connection went quiet for a long moment. Ferth realized that the soldiers around him were talking together about their favorite meals and they’d asked him about his. And he hadn’t answered. Did they think he was deaf or just exceptionally rude?
He’d opened his mouth to join in the human chatter when the familiar smell of jasmine, salt, and female blood hit him like a knockout punch. He went utterly still at the sudden wave of love and desire. His horse’s ears twisted back in worry. It was like Suza was the very air around him, a tormenting breeze. He wanted back in her arms. Ferth’s blood warmed at the same time a giant fist smashed his heart.
“That was meaner than lion dung,” Lyko said.
“I might not have thought that entirely through.” Rom sounded more like a sheep than a wolf.
“She does smell very good, though,” Lyko said. “On the nose. Well done, my young pupil.”
Ferth didn’t say a word, drinking in the scent of home and heart as the painful memories slowly dissolved.
Another uncomfortable half-hour atop the rolling mare’s back brought the small party to the village. Massive farms spread over the land surrounding a center nucleus of buildings protected by a stone wall.
The wooden gate was closed and locked. Ferth gratefully and not at all gracefully dismounted and clutched the reins tightly. The horse gave him a long-suffering glance.
Darius slammed the iron knocker three times. When no one came, he banged it again.
Visions of wine, meat, and pillows began to fade when finally, a small window slid open.
“Who’s it?” A grating voice asked. No face appeared in the hole.
Darius tugged his hood back. “Raja Darius.”
“What are you doing here?”
“That business is my own. You must open the gate.” He spoke as if it were the law. It probably was.
A round face appeared in the window, the blue eyes roving wildly over the soldiers. A fearful face. The face of a man who lived close to an enemy border at wartime. “I’ve not seen the Raja Darius before.”
Darius put his fist up near the window. The man flinched back, but then laughed awkwardly when he realized Darius was only showing his insignia ring.
“Please lord, forgive my impertinence.”
“On the contrary. I would have thought you a fool not to ask. Keep vigilant, my friend. Especially in times like these.”
The man paled.
“Open up!” Darius’s voice turned sharp and impatient.
So he could harden when he needed to, and every leader needed to turn into a blade sometimes.
The man banged what sounded like his knee against the gate and cursed as he fumbled on the other side of the wood.
Darius clamped his lips, fighting a grin.
When the door swung open, he’d schooled his sharp features into regal seriousness again.
The man stepped out from behind the door, and it was Ferth’s turn to bite his lip. The man was nearly as wide as he was tall. His head stopped at Darius’s elbow. Ferth eyed a stepping stool behind the gate as the man led them inside.
The door clanged behind them, and Ferth flinched. His wolves were out there in the night, separated. At least they had each other. They were not truly alone.
“Stay hidden,” he said to the two sleek forms prowling in the thin woods to the east.
“I smell fawn,” Rom said.
“Be ready to walk in the morning.”
They ignored the comment.
“Where would your lordship and his party wish to stay?” The man rubbed his beard nervously. “The miller’s home is the nicest, and it’s just up this street here.”
“The inn will do fine,” Darius said.
“Yes, my lord. Excuse me, my lord. All’s asleep but me this hour.”
He had clearly been sleeping too.
“Don’t trouble yourself.” Darius adopted a softer tone. “We both know I’ve arrived unannounced past midnight with seven soldiers.”
The man’s gaze flickered to bits of weaponry peeking out of cloaks and strapped to saddles. He shuddered. He stopped at a low timber house, indistinguishable from any other building. “Please lord, wait here a moment?”
Darius nodded. He pulled his cloak back slightly and laid a casual palm on his sword hilt, a silent warning.
The short man’s eyes bulged. He turned and let himself into the inn.
A moment later, a woman appeared with rags tied in her graying hair and an apron hastily thrown over what looked like a slave’s shift, a large breast caught up in one of the apron straps.
“An honor.” Her voice was squeaky and high. She managed a graceless curtsy. “Lord Raja.”
“Thank you for your hospitality …” Darius held out the last word, waiting.
“Loama.”
“Lady Loama,” Darius said with a charming smile.
The woman’s cheeks pinked, and she grinned, showing crooked teeth.
Darius didn’t blink, but Ferth did.
