Fate Revealed, page 20
“Are you going to cut me, little girl?” he asked with a sneer.
“You bet I am,” Indi breathed back. Buddy rushed her, kicking her hand in an effort to disarm her. Indi clung to the handle, but there was no way she could keep hold of it. She watched the knife sail through the air, landing in among some garbage left abandoned next to a dumpster. Indi’s eyes swung back to see Buddy smiling maliciously at her.
Grabbing her by the hair, Buddy pulled Indi into his body. Fighting through the blinding pain, Indi snaked her hand up and grasped his fingers. She pulled down, dragging him off balance. Driving her knee into his solar plexus, he buckled and she landed three punches to his ribs before he recovered.
Buddy staggered back a few steps, his face clouded with anger, his eyes taking on a darker shade of blue, the gold flecks glowing. He spat on the ground before slowly approaching again, circling her.
Remembering her self-defense classes, Indi drew in deep breaths, forcing the air down to the bottom of her lungs before exhaling. She shook out her arms and legs to ensure they stayed loose and limber. The last thing she needed was to let the flood of adrenalin make her arms and legs feel heavy.
Indi saw his next move before he even made it. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bunched, but the advance warning wasn’t enough for her to dodge the hook punch he landed to her jaw. Her head snapped around, her brain rattling around in her skull. Her vision started to grow fuzzy, blackening around the edges. She reeled backwards, feeling the cold wall of the alleyway behind her. She drooped down to the ground like a boneless sack, losing consciousness a second later.
Mere seconds had passed when her eyes focused again. Buddy was stalking towards her, an intense look of triumph in his eyes. With clumsy, lumbering movements, Indi used the wall to get herself back up again and prepared for his next attack.
Buddy curled his hands into fists and struck. Bringing her hand up between them, she stopped his jab and counterattacked with her left fist, landing a hit to his ribcage. Indi was sure she heard bones shattering, but Buddy only grimaced as he lurched away from her, clutching his right side and breathing hard through his mouth.
Indi stumbled towards the dumpster to find her knife. But as she bent down, her head began swimming, buckling her knees. She fell side-on into a pile of big black sacks, nausea weakening her stomach. “Not now,” she whispered to herself. A hand came towards her, hauling her up and spinning her around.
“I’m tired of playing around,” Buddy growled through clenched teeth. Wrapping both of his huge hands around her throat, he started squeezing the breath from her lungs. Praying she wouldn’t black out before she could defend herself, Indi brought her blade up, swinging it into his side. The knife resisted for a moment before sinking home.
Buddy screamed that time. Blood coursed from the wound, pouring over Indi’s hand. It was hot and slippery on her skin as she twisted the knife before pulling it free. Buddy was sucking in shallow breaths through his teeth as he tried to stem the flow. Blood was soaking through his shirt, dripping in slow hypnotising splashes onto the frozen ground.
Indi’s jaw suddenly started to throb as she watched the blood escaping his body. She swallowed down hard. Her throat felt as if it was on fire, like she was swallowing molten metal, and something inside her—something primal—told her that the only way to make the pain go away was to drink his blood.
“You bitch!” Buddy bit out around a moan. Sloppily, he swung at her again. Indi easily caught his fist in her palm and squeezed until he screamed. He brought his other hand up, but Indi swiped it away and caught him by his throat. Buddy went still under her fingers, under her firm grip. She could still feel his pulse hammering against his skin though. His fear was palpable as she rode a high she’d never experienced before.
Bending her head to his neck, she ran her nose along the length of his skin, sampling the bouquet of his blood. She wanted to take his pulse and roll it around her tongue. She wanted to put it between her teeth and bite down so it exploded in a mass of hot, delicious blood.
Indi’s mouth was aching again, the pain hitting a crescendo that jerked her head away from Buddy’s neck. She looked into his eyes, and in the reflection, she saw a pair of two-inch fangs where her canine teeth used to be. They hummed quietly, vibrating in time with the ebb and flow of blood in Buddy’s body.
Only deep-seated instinct drove her now. Positioning her mouth over his carotid, Buddy’s body shook violently as her new fangs slid into his skin. All Indi could concentrate on was the taste of his blood—the saltiness of it with its slightly sweet undertone. It poured down her throat in hot waves. His pulse beat against her tongue, the throb running through her fangs and into her body like they were a giant tuning fork. Every thud of that magnificent muscle hummed through her body until she wasn’t sure which heartbeat was hers and which was his.
Indi drew in mouthful after mouthful. The burning in her throat lessened as her stomach filled with the warmth that she now knew came from opening someone’s vein. She could hear his heart starting to stutter in his chest, knowing she was killing him, but she didn’t want to stop. As Indi pulled more and more of the hot liquid into her mouth, Buddy’s body gave up his fight for life, his heart beating for the very last time.
She let go of the corpse. It fell to the frozen ground with a sickening thud. Indi stared down at it and felt nothing—no remorse. No guilt. She wiped a hand across her mouth, and it came back smeared with blood. It was only a moment later that the panic set in. What had she done? And why? She didn’t understand what had happened, and why it had felt so right. She had to get out of there, though. Indi tried to stand, but her legs gave out under her, dumping her onto the cold ground again.
A fine tingle started creeping through her body. It started in her chest, radiating out like a stone being thrown into the center of a still pond. She thought she was having a heart attack, or a stroke, or a nervous breakdown. Her breathing quickened, air pushing in and out of her lungs in short, sharp bursts. She bowed her head, trying to slow it down, to draw in deep, long breaths.
Gritting her teeth, she tried to stand again, but the tingling turned into spine-bowing pain. Indi had taken a lot of beatings in her life, but the pain she was experiencing now was nothing compared with that. Slumped against the wall, agony played through Indi’s body like her bones were the keys, but she was tuned all wrong. She screamed again, the torture burning through her muscles and bones—her very blood on fire.
Indi’s throat suddenly felt tight. She gasped, trying to take in a deep breath, but her chest didn’t follow through with the rise and fall routine. Panicked, she scrambled to stand again, her lungs burning with the need for oxygen. Blackness crept into her field of vision and with a strangled moan, Indi’s world faded to black.
TWENTY-NINE
Rhett was on his way back to the farmhouse after finishing his shift at the cafe. What waited for him there was the punishment he had to take for saving his pack and—in a small way—the entire species, too.
Happy-fucking-days.
Out of habit, he drove around to Indi’s apartment block to check up on her. Even though Vaile said he’d pick up the slack on surveillance while he was healing, Rhett didn’t like the idea of being away from her for so long.
Rhett drove on autopilot after leaving Buxton, turning into the gravel drive of the farmhouse thirty minutes later without even having to think about it. He thought he would have been nervous about coming face to face with his uncle and the pack—the admission of guilt. But the only thing that bothered him now was how long he’d potentially be away from Indi.
Rhett parked his car and got out, climbing the few steps up to the porch before pushing through the front door.
“Pack gets here in an hour,” Antain called from his office as Rhett passed.
“Thanks,” Rhett replied in a flat tone, shuffling to his room. When he finally shoved open the door to his bedroom, Brax was already front and center playing Xbox. With his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth, he was concentrating on shooting the fuck out of something shambling towards the screen.
“Hey,” Rhett said, slouching into the other beanbag set up in the middle of the room.
“Hey,” Brax replied, his fingers twitching spasmodically on the controller until the screen turned red.
“Playing this game too much will make you sterile,” Rhett muttered. “I should know,” he added under his breath. That earned him a rare pause in game-play.
“Are you ready for tonight?” Brax asked earnestly. Well, that was an oxymoron if ever he heard one. “Brax” and “serious” just didn’t go together. Rhett answered with a shrug. “You know—if you wanted me to—I could take the punishment for you.”
“Why would I want you to do that?”
“Because you’re my best friend.” Brax looked back at the TV. “What’d you do anyway? Antain hasn’t told us anything.”
“I guess he’s waiting for everyone to get here to tell them all the juicy deets,” Rhett replied, looking back at the flat screen. He sighed. Brax might as well hear it from him. “I gave Indi my blood to survive. She’d been attacked by a Sicarii and was drained to the point of death.”
His best friend’s head cranked around. “Fuuuuuuck,” Brax breathed. “Why’d you do that for? We would have found another half blood eventually.”
Rhett shook his head. “She’s the last of her species. There is no other one. Indi’s it.” Rhett silently added, And I think I’m in love with her. Rhett scrubbed his face with his hands. When he dropped them, Brax was staring at him with his mouth wide open.
“What?” he asked.
“She’s the last felvair? The last one in, like, forever?”
“Wow, you catch on quick, B.”
A line formed between Brax’s eyes then his face split in two with a wide grin. “You’re like a fucking hero! You saved the species!”
“Shut. Up,” Rhett hissed after Brax raised his voice enough for the other wolves in the house to hear. “You can’t say anything to anyone about this, okay? The stakes were just upped. Every pack is going to want to have a piece of her now.”
Brax made a gesture of cramming words back into his mouth and locking his lips with an invisible key.
Rhett’s eyes narrowed. “Good,” he said, scrubbing his face again.
And silence ensued. That was just what Rhett wanted—to be alone with his thoughts right now. He stood up, not really sure what to do, or where to go. He was going to be judged and punished in an hour, and he had no fucking idea what he wanted to do in that time. Running was an option, but he wasn’t chicken shit. He’d take his punishment with his head held high.
“—Rhett?”
Rhett’s head cleared and he looked over at Brax. “What’d you say?”
“You weren’t listening at all, were you?”
“No. Sorry,” he replied, not sounding the least bit apologetic.
“I said I bet I can kill you ten times in the time it takes you to kill me once,” Brax challenged, knowing that Rhett would take the bait. B was a cocky fuck.
Rhett grinned. “What are we playing for?”
“Privacy for the next time you bring some human female around my place to jerk you off.” Rhett’s smile wavered. He hadn’t brought a female back to B’s place in town for six months—not since he’d met Indi.
“Deal.” Rhett picked up the other controller, punching himself into the game. He was kicking Brax’s ass, too, until Eaton came to the door.
“It’s time, Rhett,” she whispered. Her nose was running, her eyes red-rimmed and raw from crying. Despite Eaton’s higher status in the pack, Rhett met the eyes of his aunt and held them. “I hope the pack is grateful for the sacrifice you’re about to make,” she breathed.
“They’re not ever going to find out about it. They can’t.”
Eaton stepped away from him, holding his gaze with confusion unhidden on her face. “But why? You saved the pack.”
“They won’t see it that way. They’ll be hoping Sabel kills me tonight then they’ll be able to wash their hands of me completely.”
Eaton’s cheeks streaked with a fresh wave of tears. Rhett pulled her to his chest and squeezed her gently. With his cheek on her head, he said, “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”
He left his room and walked down the stairs. As soon as he hit the landing, Rhett could feel the energy the pack was giving off in the living room. He paused just outside the door, gathering his thoughts before kicking up his chin and facing judgement.
Every seat in the living room was taken, leaving only standing room behind the over-stuffed sofas. Although there were only fifteen members of the pack, by law every member had to be present for the verdict and punishment. It served two purposes really: first, to scare other wolves out of breaking the rules, and second, to ensure that the proper punishment was meted out.
Bodies moved out of his way as Rhett walked farther into the living room. His wolf responded to them all, pushing against his skin, making him hyperaware of every single other wolf in the room. Many were already lost to their bloodlust. He looked into the eyes of those below him in rank, meeting their gazes and asserting his dominance over them. Yeah, he may have been getting a beating right then, but he was still stronger, faster and more lethal than them.
Antain sat in his beaten-to-shit armchair in front of the hearth. Behind him, on his right, was Vaile. On his left was Sabel, whose eyes were burning with the color of his wolf. Rhett knew his own eyes would be emerald and ice.
“Rhett, do you come before the pack of your own free will, admitting your guilt for the crime you have committed?” Antain said, his voice carrying with his power as alpha.
Rhett cleared his throat before speaking. “I do.”
Antain dipped his chin. “Rhett, you have been charged with the crime of sharing your blood with a vampire. How do you plead?”
“Guilty,” he replied in a strong voice. Around him, the members of the pack gasped. Rhett could feel their stares boring into the back of his skull. There was only one thing worse than giving blood and that was killing a pack mate without just cause.
Antain cleared his throat. “Rhett, for sharing your blood with a vampire, you will receive fifty lashes as punishment. What say you?”
“I accept your ruling, alpha.”
“Good,” Antain replied. He looked to Sabel and nodded. With a snarl in his throat, the male came towards him with a pair of manacles that had been strengthened to contain a werewolf.
Sabel kicked behind Rhett’s leg, forcing him to his knees, visually lowering him in front of the pack. Rhett didn’t fight back. He didn’t even fight when Sabel wrenched his arms behind his back, applying more pressure than he needed to. Rhett was looking into the eyes of Eaton, who had come to stand next to her mate. She was sobbing silently, leaning against Antain for support.
She and his uncle had never had the chance to have children. No felvair had come along in their time, and Eaton had become too old to bear children. To them, he was their son.
“Stop!” croaked a voice. Rhett growled to himself as Brax pushed through the crowd and crouched down in front of him. “Let me take the punishment,” he begged. “Please.”
“No. I knew what would happen. I accept the consequences of my actions,” he replied softly even though every person in there could hear their conversation.
Brax’s constantly shifting eyes finally settled on yellow. “Sabel will kill you,” he replied seriously. Rhett looked at the wolf in question from the corner of his eye, seeing Sabel’s intent in his bright green gaze.
“He wants to, but he’s allowed to dole out only fifty lashes. That won’t kill me,” Rhett replied, doubting his words.
Rhett was hauled up by the arm and pushed towards the front door. The punishment would take place in a specially designed space in the converted barn. The floors were concrete, making it easier to clean up the blood that regularly got spilled there. Brax stood at Rhett’s side the entire time. The rest of the pack filed out after them—their murmurs and softly crunching steps on the light covering of snow the only sounds they made.
Halfway to the barn, Rhett stumbled and fell, the knees of his pants soaking through with melted snow. Brax and his uncle’s hands slid under each of his arms and pulled him up. When they reached the barn, they paused as Vaile opened up the doors. It was cold in there—the air stinging Rhett’s lungs and nostrils—but the temperature did nothing to disguise the scent of blood and death lingering in every piece of lumber.
A dozen steps inside, Rhett was forced to his knees again, and the squeak of a closing door sealed them in. The peanut gallery was quiet as Sabel stalked over to the wall where the whips and other implements of torture were held.
Sabel’s chartreuse stare was pinned on Rhett as he ran his hand over the different whips, finally settling on the worst of them. With a wicked grin on his lips, Sabel picked up the Cat and ran the nine ends over his palm. This Cat had been modified to be especially painful for werewolves; the tails were embedded with silver-dipped pieces of jagged steel. The silver made sure that healing afterwards would take nearly double the time. And the steel? Well, that was just to make flagellation that little bit more painful.
Sabel started back over to where Rhett was kneeling, the male’s steps faltering when Antain’s voice filled the space of the barn effortlessly.
“Fifty. Only.”
“Of course,” Sabel simpered, coiling the whip and moving towards Rhett again.
“Wait,” his uncle said again. “Turn him around.”
Rhett sucked in a breath, ready to face the eyes of the witnessing pack, but to his surprise, only Vaile, Antain and Brax were standing in the barn. Rhett looked at his uncle in question.
“They don’t need to see this. What you did was for the good of the pack, but rules are rules. We will witness this,” he gestured to Vaile and Brax, “and my word will be enough to confirm you received your punishment.”
Antain’s eyes went to Brax, who was still standing beside Rhett. “Secure his arms.”
