You gave me the knowledge, she said. I’m in your mind and your ways are ingrained in you. I simply have to absorb that vast collection and I’ll be up to speed. I refuse to be a liability to you when we hunt.
He felt pride in her. Her confidence level as a hunter was far stronger than when she was in a social setting. He understood why. As a prisoner, she had never really had a chance to learn the niceties that most learned as children growing up. She had learned battle tactics from prisoners, but not how to interact socially.
Her behavior made sense. She remained quiet, absorbing the knowledge of those around her, learning quickly. She appeared to be no threat whatsoever to anyone. All the while she was honing her skills for combat. In that time, she was also trying to learn how to behave in social situations.
Unfortunately, she had met—and recognized—her lifemate. He had been mortally wounded, and all her plans of slowly absorbing the culture and society of Carpathians and humans alike had gone out the window in her efforts to save him.
His every sense was on full alert. He could hear the slightest movement, the mice scurrying in the vegetation, the various creatures that made their home in the underbrush. The insects continued to drone but he expected that. Wolves didn’t disturb the natural order of the night. Still, he was uneasy and certain they were closing in on their quarry. He slowed his pace even more, inching his way through the brush, his gaze continually sweeping his surroundings, examining above, below and to both sides of them as well as in front of them.
He took two more steps and a frond attached to a very large fern moved slightly, a small jiggle. The wind was above them in the canopy, not moving through the forest around the large trunks. There was no legitimate reason for the branch to move as it had.
He stopped abruptly, but she didn’t run into him. When he glanced at her over his shoulder, her gaze was fixed on the same branch. Pride welled up. Branislava knew what she was doing. She knew what to look for.
Zev held up his fist without thinking, sinking low in the brush. She obeyed the silent signal to halt, crouching even lower almost simultaneously with him. There was no sound, no whisper of movement. She was very good and he found himself giving her the respect he would a fellow woodsman.
Lycans feel the energy of Carpathians when they use any of their gifts, he cautioned her.
He was mixed blood and could contain his energy. Skyler was the only full Carpathian he had seen able to do it. Lycans couldn’t sense her presence, not even after her conversion, and she wasn’t yet a mixed blood like Dimitri.
He studied the ground around the fern. The forest floor was uneven. Roots ran along the surface like veins. Downed tree trunks, rotted and hollow were scattered around as if flung by a capricious hand. Leaves and pine needles were inches deep, undisturbed for hundreds of years—until now.
Zev spotted the twisted, bruised shoots at the root of the fern. Four large bushes intersected with the ferns springing up everywhere around them, nearly choking them. He could barely make out the sole of a heel of a boot, peeking out of the undergrowth. He touched Branislava’s shoulder and indicated the telltale sign. She nodded.
Stay here. I’m going to move in on him, but be alert to any sound, any sway of a branch or ripple in the earth. If they know we’re hunting them, this could be a setup. I’m relying on you to watch my back.
He turned his head to look into her brilliant eyes. She didn’t look afraid. In fact, she looked calmer than he’d ever seen her. She felt calmer. She was definitely confident in her abilities and that gave him confidence in her.
He was just a little shocked at his reluctance to leave her. Many of the Lycan women fought off the rogues if their villages or homes were attacked. Many served in their countries’ military, no matter where their packs were located. In his own elite pack, Daciana hunted with him, and he’d never doubted her or felt hesitant to leave her alone.
He didn’t like Branislava out of his sight. That was the truth of it. He loathed to leave her side when danger lurked so close. He was fairly certain his unwillingness was due to his being her lifemate and not at all that he was afraid she couldn’t handle whatever happened there in the forest.
A wolf called and by the timbre of the voice, he knew it was an animal. He recognized the pitch of Shadow, Dimitri’s alpha. Another answered. That was the little female, Moonglow. Shadow howled a second time and Sonnet answered.
What are they saying? Branislava asked. One note doesn’t mean anything.
She had taken him at his word and her telepathy was on a very narrow path, each word spaced and thin so the energy was dispersed almost before he could catch the words pushed into his mind.
It’s a count. They’ve spotted four assassins creeping around in our forest. They must be looking for someone, and I would have to guess it is Dimitri’s Skyler.
They’ll get a shock if they get anywhere close to her. Satisfaction edged her tone.
We’ve got one close to us, so my guess is, they’re hunting in pairs. There has to be at least one more.
He dropped to his belly and crawled through the brush toward the Lycan positioned between three heavy berry bushes. Hundreds of ferns had pushed up all around the bushes so that the fronds intertwined with the leaves of the plants, forming a natural shelter. The Lycan—and Zev recognized him as Rollo—was in a pack subordinate to the council member Randall’s main pack. Randall’s main pack was one of the larger that Zev knew of. The larger pack commanded three other packs subordinate to it.
Zev had often spoken to Rollo. He knew the man had a mate but no children, which wasn’t uncommon. Few Lycans were able to have children other than the alpha pair. This was another man he’d liked. He was a good hunter. He’d served in the United States Marine Corps. He often ran with another man by the name of Ivaylo. Zev would bet his life Ivaylo was somewhere close by protecting Rollo’s back.
He smelled the Lycan assassin now, the aggression, the mixture of trepidation and excitement that often came with waiting for combat to actually start. Adrenaline always kicked in when lying in wait to ambush someone.
Zev could hear Rollo’s heart pumping like mad, a pounding beat that beckoned to him. He heard the blood flowing like water through his veins. His Dark Blood lineage—and he recognized it for what it was—had been called to the forefront. Mixed with Lycan and Carpathian, his senses were so acute it was almost overwhelming. He lay still, inches from his prey, letting his senses fan outward, seeking Ivaylo, the Lycan he was certain was Rollo’s partner.
He knew they had served in the military together. The two men were fond of saying they’d joined together, left together and married their wives on the same day in a double ceremony. He stayed very still, waiting for the sign he knew would come eventually, revealing the second Lycan’s position. Hunting was all about patience, and he had it in abundance. He hoped Branislava did as well.
Tension coiled. A tiny shrew ran over his hand, stopped and started four times before disappearing into the small field of ferns. Rollo sighed, the sound muffled as if his mouth was covered by his arm.
An owl dropped down fast, talons extended, making for the tiny shrew. The shrew made a high-pitched sound of distress. As the claws raked over it, the shrew dove into the crack between two small rocks. The owl missed its prey and with a small cry of disappointment, lifted itself back into the air with straining wings. The bird made for the tree several meters across from the ferns, flew toward a high branch and veered off sharply.
Zev followed the owl’s line of sight. Sure enough, just as he expected, Ivaylo was lying up in the tree, covering his buddy.