Scent of Valor (Chronicles of Eorthe #2) Page 11

  She did as he asked. “You were flirting with him,” she shouted.

  He clapped his hand over her mouth and manhandled her back to their pallet. Once he had her on it, he gathered her torn dress and helped her tie it back on.

  “You were flirting.” She jabbed her finger at him.

  He showed her the water skin. “Nahuel needs this. The guard refused when I asked so when I noticed that one watching me, I did what I do best.” He shrugged.

  Her mouth opened but nothing came out.

  “You’re jealous?” He traced the neckline of her dress, which was considerably lower now that she’d torn it asunder.

  She jerked from his touch. “Of course I am.” Watching him touch another in an affectionate way had stung like a thousand needles. How would he understand? He had an omega’s nature. Easy lovers. No attachments.

  He entwined their fingers. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was a means to get something we needed. Just a harmless flirtation.”

  “From the way he’s watching us, I’d say there’s nothing harmless about it. You worry about the vampires having their way with me but have you ever considered they might do the same to you? You’re much prettier.”

  He shrugged again.

  She ground her teeth. “Peder.”

  “What?” His gaze grew darker and his small smile vanished. “They can’t do anything to me that hasn’t already been done.” He left her gaping as he tended to Nahuel’s thirst with the water skin.

  If only the ground would open and swallow her whole, she would have deemed in just. She leaned back and banged her head against the wall. When she stared at Peder, she saw a male of worth, someone who would climb mountains and scale a vampire castle to save another, no matter the personal cost. Yet in this morning light, she witnessed the cracks he tried to hide so well. The shattered pieces he somehow kept glued together. Was this where the haunted look of last night came from?

  She rose and tugged on her makeshift dress to better hide the important bits, then approached both males. Nahuel appeared less pale this morning. A little rest, water and food would see him healed. “How does your head feel?”

  Peder didn’t look at her.

  “Better.” He gripped Peder’s forearm in a hunter’s greeting. “After yesterday, I would call you brother if you were Yaundeeshaw.”

  Peder returned the gesture. “I’m happy if you just call me friend. It’s not the place of an omega to be called brother by a hunter.”

  Nahuel snorted. “There’s nothing omega about you. I think you shed that skin when you took my place in the challenge.” He pointed to the other shifters in the pen. “From what I’ve heard this morning, many are grateful for your actions.”

  Flinching, Peder twisted to look at the others, who had paused in their activities to face them.

  A few nodded in his direction until a large male strode toward them. He was almost the same size as the one Peder had bested.

  Both she and Peder stood to meet him. Peder with a relaxed stance, Kele ready to claw out this stranger’s eyes.

  “Can we help you, hunter?” Peder met his stare. He didn’t kneel or even duck his head.

  The hunter knelt instead and touched Peder’s foot. “I want to make my intentions clear that I will not challenge you and I observe your dominance.”

  Kele’s chest swelled at how calm Peder kept his expression while her heart skipped beats.

  He rested his hand on the hunter’s head. “I accept.” He raised his head and she saw the confusion in his eyes. So maybe not as calm as she’d thought.

  She twisted to see what danger threatened them and found all the others had knelt as if Peder were alpha. She rested her chin on his shoulder and tangled their fingers. “There’s definitely nothing omega about you anymore.”

  The chime of the meal bell broke the silence. As one, everyone rose and lined up at the door to receive their morning meal.

  She stopped Peder from following. “It won’t look good for you to wait in line. Let me get it for you and Nahuel.”

  Peder appeared torn. His gaze wandered from the meal line to the recovering hunter. “If you think it’s best.”

  She rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek before taking her place at the end of the line. The bread the shifters carried back smelled surprisingly fresh. Personally, she would have preferred meat of any kind, but any food was better than none. The line moved quickly. She had reached into the basket to gather their meal when a dark hand followed hers and grasped her wrist.

  “White wolf, I was told you attacked my guard this morning.”

  She met Timothy’s black eyes and cold claws of fear bit into her spine. “It was a misunderstanding.”

  Behind Timothy, the guard who fancied her Peder smirked.

  “I’m sure it was, but such behavior cannot go unpunished.” Timothy yanked her arm and she tumbled out of the holding pen and onto her knees.

  Nahuel thumped Peder’s leg and pointed in the direction of the pen’s door.

  Kele knelt on the ground, outside the bars at Timothy’s feet. What was going on? Then he spotted the vampire who’d given him the water skin watching Kele with a smug smile on his face.

  Timothy raised his arm over his head, holding a flat wooden baton, and the blow landed on her back.

  She grunted with the impact.

  Peder sprang to his feet and raced to the door before the guard swung it closed. By the Goddess’s luck, he wedged his body through the narrow opening and bowled over the sentry. Peder grabbed Timothy’s wrist before he could swing the baton a second time.

  The dark slaver blinked as if shocked to see him. “What is he doing out of the cage?” Tugging his arm out Peder’s hold, he landed the strike on Kele.

  As Peder stepped forward, two guards seized his arms and tried to pull him back into the pen. “Why are you hitting her?” She seemed so tiny and fragile next to the big male. He could break her.

  “None of your business, Goldie. Now go play nursemaid to your friend.”

  Kele raised her head. “I’m okay. It’s my fault. Go back inside.”

  He shifted to feral form. Kele had lived such a sheltered life. He had to preserve that for as long as possible. He needed her hope and her innocence to keep him going. These slavers were capable of worse things than hitting her.

  Timothy lowered his arm. “Pup.” He pointed the baton at him. “This is your last chance to step away.”

  “You didn’t give her any chances.”

  “Of course not. A female needs to learn her place quickly in this business.”

  “And what place is that?” Kele asked with her head still bowed and her gaze on the ground.

  “On your knees and mouth shut.” Timothy kicked her in the stomach.

  With a roar that hurt his throat, Peder leaped at the slaver, dragging both guards still clinging to his arms with him. He struck Timothy to the ground as he shook the guards free. If they wanted someone to hit, they could use him. “Let her go.”

  Black fur covered Timothy’s flesh as he shifted to feral form. He rose to his hind legs, his feline face close to Peder’s. “Think you can take me, little pup?”

  The snide endearment splintered his control. Sorin’s father used to call him that. In the same tone. He swiped his claws across Timothy’s chest, but only cut through air.

  Timothy had moved out of his reach. “Have you ever fought a cat shifter?”

  He shook his head. Timothy resembled a black predator feline. Like a creature of shadow. “I’ve never seen your kind.” And had heard very little of them.

  The slave dealer snorted. “I am a panther shifter from the Jaguar clan.”

  “Why would you sell our kind to vampires? We’re cousins.” Maybe he could reason with the cat. Who knew how the vampires had made Timothy turn his back on his own kind.

  Ears folding back, the Jaguar shifter crouched low and bared his teeth. “Our kind share no blood, dog. Your people are just gold in my pocket. I can’t capture eno
ugh to meet the demands.” Timothy leaped higher than Peder thought possible for such a heavy creature and landed behind him.

  He spun around and absorbed a punch to the center of his chest. Pain exploded through Peder’s ribs and stole his breath. It seemed as if his lungs had forgotten how to work. Gasping, he stumbled back, wheeling his arms before he went tail over bucket.

  “Peder.” Kele raced to his side and steadied him.

  He pulled her close. She needed to stop attracting so much attention to herself.

  Timothy yanked her from his grasp and handed her to the guards. “I’m not done with her yet.” Then he circled him with slow deliberate steps. “Let’s test these fighting skills.”

  Kele struggled against the vampires holding her.

  One of the guards set a sword to her throat. “Stay in civil form. Your master doesn’t want you that bad.”

  “Take your time, Goldie. Catch your breath. I’m in no hurry.” Timothy bared his sharp feline teeth. In feral form, he appeared similar to a wolf—except for the face, more needle-like claws and longer canines.

  Sorin’s voice whispered in his head. Find your center, push any emotion to back of your mind and focus solely on your opponent. Do any other thing and you may as well submit.

  Should he submit? Would fighting Timothy make things worse? He scented Kele’s terror. He would not die omega. He had worked too hard to find his inner hunter to just surrender at the first sign of real conflict.

  Pack challenges seemed so childish after the last few days. He wouldn’t let his fear rule him anymore. If ever they ever managed to escape, no one would take Kele from him without a fight. Not in the future, and not now. He centered his thoughts and pushed them away. He lowered himself to all fours and stalked Timothy like the pussycat he was. “If rubbed on the belly do you purr?”

  The slaver chuckled. “You’re just pretty enough for me to let you find out.” He struck quick and silent as the wind. The swipe of his claws sliced through the flesh of Peder’s left bicep.

  He rolled away before Timothy could land anymore strikes. Burning spread through the limb but he embraced the sensation. Blood trickled through his fur and dripped from his elbow. Timothy was faster than Sorin and he wouldn’t pull his claws.

  Each time he lunged at Timothy his claws and teeth met nothing. The cat shifter could jump higher and always landed on his feet, no matter how complicatedly he twisted in the air. Peder might as well have been trying to fight a large bird. At least, he managed to keep the big cat from gaining any more strikes against him.

  Timothy seemed out of breath though and his last leap didn’t soar completely out of Peder’s reach.

  Peder jumped as high as he could in his attack to see if he could meet Timothy in the air but the more experienced fighter rolled under him and came up from behind.

  Locking his arms around Peder’s, Timothy slammed him to ground with enough force to rattle his teeth and send stars spinning in his vision.

  “Shift to civil form or I drag her into this as well,” the cat shifter whispered.

  Peder glanced at both versions of Kele swaying in his vision, then brought up his trigger memory to shift. His fur receded as bones and flesh returned painlessly to civil form.

  Timothy clamped both of his hands on his back while the vampires rushed to restrain his wrists with manacles. The slaver lifted him to his feet and pushed him forward. Always shoving him from behind, the vampires didn’t let Peder catch his balance until his shoulder hit a thick wooden pole on the other side of the compound.

  Timothy unlocked his manacles and linked them to the top of the pole, raising his arms above his head. “You lasted longer than most.”

  He assumed Timothy meant in a fight. Peder’s chest heaved as he sucked in air and his body shook from the exertion. He’d had one bowl of stew in days and fought two challenges. Not to mention having taken care of Nahuel all night had kept him from any sleep. The muscles in his already sore shoulders cried out at the abuse of being wrenched above his head.

  Timothy moved behind him and Peder heard instruments of metal being dragged across the wood of a table. The sound was familiar. Timothy was going to hurt him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A sharp point of a dagger poked Kele’s side. “Stay in civil form and you won’t have any trouble from us.” The vampire holding her eased the sword from her throat. Even if she could shift faster than he could stab her, she couldn’t defeat Timothy. Not after what she’d just witnessed. The cat shifter would probably be able to beat her father…

  Her breath hitched. Would she ever be able to think of her parents without a searing burn in her chest?

  Timothy had chained Peder to a thick wooden pole on the other side of the compound. The shifters in the pen gathered by the bars. Their solemn faces told her they’d witnessed this before. Her imagination suddenly grew vivid and crazed.

  They can’t do anything to me that hasn’t already been done, whispered a ghost of Peder’s voice in her head.

  The guard keeping her hostage guided her closer to Peder’s hanging form.

  Her feet dragged as if made of stone until he shoved her from behind, propelling her closer than she wished. This was all her fault. If she’d just kept a better rein on her temper and not attacked that touchy-feely vampire, Peder would be safe within the pen.

  She almost snorted. How could she consider the pen safe? As long as Timothy controlled their fates, they’d never be out of danger.

  Behind Peder, Timothy sorted through what appeared to be tools on a table. He hummed to himself. What was he going to use them for? This didn’t seem the time to build or fix anything. She searched the yard for enlightenment. Then it dawned on her. Those weren’t tools used to fix things. One didn’t need pokers and pincers to repair cages or wagons.

  Holding up a multitailed whip, Timothy skirted the area until he faced Peder. “Have you ever been whipped with something like this?” He snapped the cat-o’-nine-tails, just missing flesh.

  Peder didn’t even flinch. He stared at Timothy with eyes gone dead.

  “I can’t let your behavior go unpunished.” He twirled the whip in his hand before setting it aside, choosing a long, thin, flexible stick.

  A cane.

  How could she breathe a sigh of relief at the sight? But she did. That awful whip was tipped with small hooks to rip the flesh. The cane would only leave bruises.

  Her nostrils flared and her limbs shook. Why Goddess? Peder had the kindest soul she’d ever encountered. She wanted to wrap him around her like a thick blanket and let his heat sink deep inside her.

  Timothy struck, keeping most of the hits on the outside of Peder’s legs. The solid slap of wood against skin echoed in the silent compound.

  She’d been a fool to think it wouldn’t cause as much damage. The cane left long welts that crisscrossed his skin. In a few places, his skin seemed split from the constant impact.

  The tremors in her arms grew worse and her guard tightened his grip. She clenched her teeth as the sound of the beating grew louder and Timothy worked his way higher.

  Peder never made a sound. That tore her apart more than any scream.

  Peder breathed, forcing the air in and out of his lungs when instinct wanted him to hold his breath.

  The pain wasn’t part of him.

  In the dark, behind his eyes, he closed a mental door. He hadn’t hidden in this space in years. How easy it had been to find his way back.

  Smack, smack, smack. The sound carried a stirring beat.

  His pulse slowed as the darkness swallowed him and let his body absorb the sting of the cane. He had endured worse, but he was out of practice. When Timothy hit his ribs, he couldn’t stop the flinch. The cat shifter must have seen it since he returned to the spot frequently.

  Someone was screaming. The sound came from a distance as if from a long tunnel. They shouted one thing over and over. He wished they’d stop. It shook his control more than the caning.

  “Peder.�
�� Kele’s voice, so raw as if she’d been shouting through a veil of tears, slipped passed his door. “Peder.” It sounded weaker this time. “Please stop, Timothy. Please.”

  His mental hidey-hole faded and he opened his eyes.

  Kele struggled against her guard. The vampire’s arms clung to her and kept her from reaching him. A dagger lay on the ground at her feet as if had been dropped. Tears streamed down her face. “Stop it.” Her bottom lip shook.

  Timothy withheld his next strike, but Peder’s body still tensed waiting for the blow. The cat shifter watched Kele with a smug smile. “Let her go.”

  They released her so fast Kele fell forward. She hurried toward him.

  The hit on his tender flank came much harder than the others, and it shocked a loud groan from him. Kele didn’t understand people like Timothy—those who enjoyed inflicting pain, and how he was using her to feed his hunger.

  She fell to her knees at Peder’s feet and stroked his aching leg. It wasn’t a submissive move though—it was so much more. It was his mate suffering. His beautiful, proud Kele shed tears for him. Something he hadn’t dared even dream. She cared.

  Hanging her head, she whispered, “Please stop it. I’ll do anything.”

  “No.” It left his lips before he could stop his idiotic response. His gaze snapped to Timothy’s in hope he hadn’t heard him, but a sparkle of triumph reflected back.

  The cat shifter dropped the cane and approached Kele, kneeling at her side. With a gentle hand, he petted her long, blonde hair. “Such unusual coloring for a shifter in these parts. I’ve seen it more in your northern cousins.”

  She sniffed and clung to Peder’s ankle, her nails marking his flesh with half-moons.

  Timothy pried her fingers open and led her away until Peder had a good view of them both. He tossed her onto her knees and lifted her dress over her hips.

  “No.” Damn it, he’d said it again.

  “She said she’d do anything.”

  “You’re in feral form. You’ll tear her in half.” With his thrashing to get free, he swung at the end of the rope. Blood trickled from his wrists, making them slick. He cared too much and it showed. Foolish, foolish heart. He doomed her.