“You know what they’ll do to him. They’ll think he’s a traitor and part of the conspiracy to kill them.” Daciana looked across the porch to Makoce. “What do you think?”
“Does anyone want to know what I think?” Damon asked.
Daciana bared her teeth at him. “No. Absolutely not. You just sit there quietly. Do you have any idea the trouble you’ve caused? We’re sworn to uphold the law and you’ve broken it a million times over. You’re lucky Zev didn’t kill you right there in that tree when you aimed a weapon at a wolf and then at Skyler.” She kicked him again just for good measure.
“I want to know who gave the order to come here and kill Skyler and Dimitri,” Makoce said. “If we can get that information, maybe we can figure out what’s really going on here.”
Damon leaned toward him. “Most members of the Sacred Circle believe the Sange rau can’t be tolerated. They’re the devil. They destroy entire packs. You know that.”
“How many have actually been in existence since the very first one our people encountered? And do you know who hunted it for several years, fought it and eventually killed it?” Zev asked. “Do the members of the Sacred Circle even have a clue who actually killed the Sange rau responsible for so much death and destruction?”
In the far corner of the verandah, Fen stirred uncomfortably. He’d stayed quiet. Now he wished Tatijana was with him instead of inside with her sister. Every now and then he felt her laughter brushing through the walls of his mind and knew the two Dragonseeker women were getting advice from Skyler on how to make coffee.
Dimitri and Skyler hadn’t arrived yet, but each time he touched Tatijana’s mind, she and Branislava were chattering with Skyler. The couple was on the way to join them, having put the newly converted female wolf in the ground to heal. She was safe beneath their home, resting in the bed they shared when sleeping the rejuvenating sleep of the Carpathians.
“I heard a Lycan by the name of Vakasin and his partner, Fenris Dalka, killed him,” Damon said. “It’s written in the sacred book.”
“Did the sacred book also include the information that when Vakasin returned to his pack, they turned on him and murdered him?” Zev asked.
“That’s impossible,” Damon denied. “They wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh but they did,” Zev said. “Vakasin spent a couple of years tracking the Sange rau, fighting with him and sustaining terrible wounds. He needed blood and his partner, Fenris Dalka, provided that blood. When Fen was wounded just as badly, Vakasin gave him the blood needed to sustain his life.”
“That’s a common practice in a partnership,” Damon said, clearly puzzled. “But it doesn’t explain why Vakasin’s own pack would turn on him after he spent a good portion of his life tracking down the infamous and nearly invincible Sange rau.”
“Not unless Vakasin was Lycan and Fenris was Carpathian,” Zev said in a low, carrying tone.
“Fenris Dalka is Lycan. His name is Lycan. He’s been around the packs for years. I’ve heard of him, although I’ve never met him,” Damon said.
“I came across the torn and dying bodies of men, women and children,” Fen said from the shadows of his corner. “At the time, I was Fen Tirunul, not Dalka. It was a sickening sight. I thought I hunted the vampire. I was certain he was vampire, but he killed too many, left behind such devastation. Each time I caught up with him, he nearly killed me, and I was experienced with much skill. He was fast and enormously strong.”
Damon whirled around, peering into the corner, trying to make out the man speaking.
“I came across Vakasin’s tracks many times and saw where he fought and was wounded over and over. He was tracking the undead as I was, only it was no mere vampire. We joined forces, hoping to have a better chance of killing it.”
“You? You’re Fenris Dalka?” Damon demanded. “The Fenris Dalka?”
“The vampire we were hunting had used Lycans for his blood so much that eventually he became what you refer to as Sange rau, or bad blood. It is bad blood, not because a Lycan mixed blood with a Carpathian, but because he mixed blood with a vampire. Vampires are wholly evil. There is a big difference between the undead and a Carpathian.”
Damon opened his mouth to reply, but Branislava and Tatijana returned with cups of coffee for Damon, Daciana and Makoce. Damon’s gaze immediately jumped to Branislava’s face as she handed him the hot mug.
“I have no idea if it’s any good,” she admitted. “It’s the first cup of coffee I’ve ever actually made.”
Tatijana handed a cup to Daciana. “Not the first, this is about the fifteenth, but we think this could actually be drinkable. We want the truth because we have to be able to make this for our guests.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Damon said, staring into Branislava’s emerald eyes.
As usual, Branislava wore a long dress, looking very feminine, the material clinging to her breasts and emphasizing her waist and flared hips. A ribbon was woven into her long braid, and she moved gracefully to Zev’s side, perching on the arm of his chair, drawing her legs up under her.
Zev immediately wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. His wolf was close to the surface, much closer than he would have liked. Damon was just too attentive to her, his interest far too evident. His wolf prowled and snarled and raked, demanding the freedom to rid the world of a rival.
Branislava leaned into him, her lips brushing his ear. Hello, my little Wolfie. I’ve missed you. She breathed the words into his ear, yet no sound emerged. He heard her only in his mind.
Warm air sent fingers of arousal dancing through his body. The tension in his wolf eased instantly to be replaced by amusement—and satisfaction. His wolf no longer wanted anything to do with Damon, but Branislava was in danger of him eating her up.
Daciana and Mokoce drank their coffee gratefully. Damon took a sip of his and nearly choked. He turned away from Branislava, desperate to keep from spitting the brew out on the verandah.
Branislava’s soft laughter sounded intimate in Zev’s mind. He really shouldn’t have come here to hurt the wolves, kill Dimitri and Skyler and upset you.