As the first of the trio bargained, the other two slipped their guns ever so quietly forward in an effort to find a target. One thought he saw a Carpathian for just a moment, and he nudged his companion and pointed to the brush below.
Behind them, Dimitri leaned down to whisper into their ears. “I can smell lies. And the three of you stink.”
One whirled, firing as he did so, the gun exploding next to Dimitri’s chest, but Dimitri’s dagger had already gone deep, the blade finding a home in the liar’s heart. The hand holding the gun stiffened and then went limp, the body sliding toward the ground, only to be caught in the lower branches where it lay sprawled out in a macabre manner.
Nicolas took the head, allowing it to drop to the ground with the others. With great contempt, he shoved the body out of the tree with the toe of his boot, so that it, too, landed in the mess that had been live Lycans only minutes earlier.
The two remaining wolves opened fire, shooting off round after round in all directions, desperate to kill their attackers. Unfortunately for them, the Carpathians had disappeared, and in the chaos of terror, the two Lycans left alive couldn’t read the energy coming at them from all directions.
One clawed his way down the tree, shredding the bark, nearly sobbing. He landed in the middle of a puddle of blood and when he looked down, the eyes of his friends were staring accusingly at him.
“Don’t leave me, Don,” the other shouted. “We have to stick together. Wait for me.”
The Lycan named Don didn’t even look up at his companion, he ran for his life, the gun still clutched in his hand with his finger on the trigger, but he didn’t even remember it was there. He had taken no more than five steps when he hit something sharp. Painful. He stopped abruptly, stood there swaying. The gun dropped from nerveless fingers.
Don looked down at his chest. A silver spiraling stake protruded. Shocked, he stared down, cupping his hands underneath it as if he could catch the blood pouring from around the wound. Twice he shook his head and then managed to look up. A tall man stood in front of him, one with terrible burns around his head and neck.
“You really shouldn’t have shot her,” Dimitri said dispassionately. “You were dead the minute the bullets left your gun. If I hadn’t found you now, I would have hunted you down with the very last breath in my body.” He lifted the silver sword and swung it, the movement graceful and deadly. Don’s head rolled toward the others.
The Lycan left in the tree threw his gun down and tried to stand on trembling legs, raising both hands in the air. “You can’t kill me. I’m a prisoner of war. You can’t kill me.”
“There is no war between our species,” Nicolas said, his disembodied voice coming eerily out of the night.
“Unfortunately for you,” Rafael added, projecting his voice from both above and below, “my brother doesn’t believe in taking prisoners.”
The Lycan leapt from the tree, clearing the branches, his arms flung out from his body as if he had wings. In midair, a silver sword appeared. There was no way to change his trajectory. He hit the tip of the sword with his chest, his momentum impaling him on the blade, right through his heart.
“Your brother doesn’t believe in a lot of unnecessary talking either,” Zacarias said, materializing behind the sword. He gave his brothers a dark scowl. “You do like your games.” He withdrew the blade, severed the head with one stroke and wiped the blade on the body almost before it hit the ground.
Nicolas and Rafael exchanged a small secret smirk.
You’ve managed to draw a lot of attention, Fen said to his brother. Get out of there.
Zacarias looked up at the sky and immediately the clouds obeyed, churning black and blowing straight up. Lightning forked throughout a towering cloud. He directed the sizzling bolt into the middle of the pile of dead Lycans.
The flames leapt high, burning the bodies. Rafael left behind a message for the other Lycans. Traitors of the council, murderers of children. Brought to justice.
I’m not leaving you behind and Zev is losing the battle here with his numerous wounds. Get moving.
I’m on my way, Dimitri said placidly.
Fen might be his older brother, but Dimitri was an ancient warrior and had hunted vampires for centuries, mostly on his own. No matter how much he loved his brother, he went his own way and made up his own mind. These Lycans had been killers and they had dared to accost his lifemate. He wasn’t about to let them live. Sooner or later he would have caught up with them. He was grateful they had been ferreted out by Zacarias and his brothers. Who knew what more harm they would have done if they hadn’t been destroyed?
He knew Fen was worried about him, but he refused to acknowledge that Fen had been right all along and his body wasn’t yet up to bringing justice to anyone. He took to the air, heading back toward his brother. Razvan had made a clean getaway with Byron, yet Fen and Zev had refused to leave until Dimitri was safely away. Dimitri was fairly certain Zev was every bit as stubborn as his brother and neither was budging until they knew he was safe.
Rafael and Nicolas fell in behind him. Zacarias led the way. On some level Dimitri realized they were protecting him, flying in a formation that kept his battered body in the center of a triangle.
I’m waiting on you, Fen, he told his brother. If you’re having trouble and need a little help I’ll circle back and save you as usual. Just say the word. I was just giving you a little time to work it out, but seriously, I can’t have you holding everyone up.
Dimitri had to keep the amusement out of his voice, and out of his mind as well. Laughing at Fen was a dangerous proposition.
Very funny. You’re turning into a regular comedian. Have one of the De La Cruz brothers carry your sorry butt.
Dimitri knew he wasn’t going to get away with laughing at his brother, but still, it felt good to be heading home, with Fen close by. He was free, the pain was slowly subsiding and Skyler was his for all eternity.
Moving through the night sky with the wind in his face and the stars glittering overhead had always been relaxing and peaceful. He didn’t look at the battleground beneath him, strewn with wounded Lycans. He’d had enough of blood and death and pain—enough to last another lifetime. He was weary. Exhausted. Done with fighting for a while.
Where are you?
She reached for him immediately with her soothing touch as if she knew his weariness and exhaustion. She’d done so in the past. He remembered once when he’d spent months tracking a master vampire and witnessing the aftermath of the death and destruction the undead left in his wake, he’d been so sickened by the depravity he couldn’t find solace or peace, even in the ground.
She had come to him then as she did now. Skyler. His miracle. She poured into his mind gently, with that slow, almost delicate touch he had grown so familiar with. She filled him, those dark places of death, the cracks that seemed impossible to mend, so many torn places inside of him caused by the numerous kills he’d made and the things he’d seen. Somehow, when she was there, when they merged like this, she managed to wipe it all out. Everything he’d seen and done was gone, replaced by warmth and love.
Safe. I’m following close, he assured her.
Dimitri, something’s wrong. I feel it.
It’s just the distance between us. I’m a little weak. He made the admission to her that he would never make to his brother. She was there with him, in his mind, she would know anyway. It was practically impossible to hide anything from one’s lifemate, and his lifemate was especially sensitive.