vampire’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head. “I don’t recall agreeing to that at all.”
“Are you going to bail on a deal?” Zane growled from deep in his throat, taking a step forward.
The vampire sprang across the clearing, landing lightly and silently so that he stood toe-to-toe with Zane. “I made no deal.” He lashed out, catching Zane on the cheek with his fist.
His movement was like a signal to the three vampires standing behind him, and they launched themselves at the first row of guardians.
Matthias ducked a kick from one vampire, then flung his arm up to brace himself against the punch aimed at his head. Moving like lightning, and with exceptional strength, the vampires were formidable foes on a bad day. This seemed to be a good day.
Matthias grunted as a leg kicked him in the gut, but he stopped and grabbed the next kick to his head. “Don’t bite them,” he roared to his guardians, fury at limiting his lycans in such a way adding a brutality to his own actions. He twisted the leg in his grip, turning and yanking, grunting in satisfaction at the resulting snap of bone. He heard the grunts and cries of lycan and vampire alike as they fought in the glade.
He sprang at the lead vampire who had Zane’s neck twisted at an alarming angle. He used his full body weight to knock the vampire and Zane off their feet. Zane rolled and rose to his feet, stretching his neck. His friend bared his teeth, and Matthias gave the vampire a quick jab to the face before turning to hold his friend back.
“Let me at him,” Zane snarled, trying to force his way past Matthias.
“We can’t hurt them,” Matthias grated back calmly, then lifted his leg to strike out at an advancing vampire, catching him savagely in the groin before spinning and thrusting his foot into the vampire’s solar plexus, sending him flying back to hit the rock face behind them.
A hand grabbed onto his hair, but couldn’t find purchase in the short military cut. Matthias grabbed the hand and spun, dragging the vampire off his feet and over his shoulder. The lead vampire hit the ground with a loud thud, and his eyes flashed from pale blue to bloodred in the blink of an eye.
Matthias bared his teeth and lowered his head until he and the lead vampire were nose to nose. “I could bite you now and end this,” he grated, “but that would be going back on my deal I struck with Vivianne Marchetta, Vampire Prime, and as such is to be honored by all Nightwing vampires and Alpine lycans.” He glared at the vampire in warning.
The vampire’s eyelids flickered, and his lips curled in a sneer. “My sister is letting the dogs out?” He shook his head in disgust. “She wouldn’t,” he said through gritted teeth, his incisors gleaming white in the encroaching darkness. “My sister would not make a pact with the dogs.”
Matthias nodded. “She did. Alpine are allowed safe access through Nightwing until we resolve a little dispute with your neighbors. During that time, we don’t bite the dead.” He snapped his teeth in warning, then tilted his head to the side. “Lucien, I presume? You should pay your sister a visit.” He waited until the vampire nodded. “Yeah, you’ll find there have been a few changes since your last visit.”
He levered himself up and off the vampire, stepping back to allow him to gain his feet.
The vampire arched his back, leaping to his feet with a stealthy grace. “I’ll talk to my sister, mutt, but trust me, this little arrangement of yours—it’s not going to last. I don’t know what the hell she was thinking, letting the dogs stink up our land.”
Zane’s stalked forward, fists clenched. “You think we stink?”
Matthias edged between the two, not taking his eyes off the vamp. “Go talk to your sister. I’m sure she’ll explain everything. You might want to tell her you nearly started a war with the wolves,” he added. “Somehow I don’t think she’d appreciate your meddling.” He lifted his chin. “And the agreement stands until Vivianne says otherwise—in person.”
Lucien Marchetta glared first at him, then at Zane. “This isn’t over.” He beckoned his vampires. Two of them had to be helped, and Lucien tucked the arm of one of his injured comrades around his neck. “Now that I’m back in town, things are going to change,” he said, his voice low and menacing. Then as a group they jumped, landing lightly on the ridge above them, and then disappeared into the night.
Matthias turned to his guardians, surveying them. Apart from some scratches and bruises, they looked more pissed than hurt.
“Let’s go find the tracker.” He stormed past them to scan the forest. She was out there somewhere, the traitorous little tracker. He ignored the voice inside his head that reminded him she was doing what any other lycan would do to protect her pack, using every weapon at her disposal. Even though he’d suspected she was somehow trying to trick them, she’d lied to him, which made him angry—but he wasn’t sure if he was angry at her for lying to him, or at himself for not detecting it. She’d played him smart, and he could appreciate that, even respect it—but she’d risked his men, the lycans he was responsible for, and that made him angry. Okay, fine, he was maybe a little pissed she didn’t trust him, although God only knew why he thought she would...and therein lay that tiny little sting. She didn’t trust him, and he wanted her to. So yes, he was hurt, but anger was always a better way to get over it.
But damn it, if things had escalated with Lucien Marchetta, then he’d be facing a war with the vamps as well as Woodland. They jogged back the way they’d come, right up to that fallen tree she’d parked her butt on as she watched them walk into a trap. He’d had no idea there was a curve in the border here, or that they’d be venturing into Nightwing territory. He had to give credit where it was due, though; she was clever.
Zane came up beside him. “She did it on purpose.”
“Of course she did it on purpose. She doesn’t want us anywhere near her pack.” Damn it, the forest was dark, and as they all spread out and peered at the ground, looking for signs of their trail, he realized they were trying to find someone who was very adept at covering her tracks.
“I can’t find any sign of her or the boy,” Zane said, jogging up to him.
Matthias stood there for a moment, thinking. “We have no idea where the den is,” he murmured, “so no clue as to which direction they might be headed in.”
He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the immediate area. With the sense of sight removed, his other senses deepened. He could hear the rustle of the leaves in the tree, the slight ruffle of wings in the branches above. A cool breeze caressed his shoulders, and something small and four-footed scampered away from his group.
There. Honeysuckle and vanilla. He lifted his nose, sniffing at the air. Yep. It was faint, and it was laced with pine, as though she’d tried to mask her scent, but he would sniff her out if she dosed herself in pepper.
“There,” he said, opening his eyes and pointing forward and slightly to the right.
Zane frowned. “How can you tell?”
“Can’t you smell her?” Even now, her fragrance curled inside him, arousing him, and stirring his beast.
Zane sniffed the air, then shook his head. “Nope. All I’ve got is pine.”
Matthias smiled grimly. “Then follow me.” He turned to the group. “The rest of you, set up camp near that dip in the ridge.”
