Scent of Valor (Chronicles of Eorthe #2) Read online

  “Bastard,” she shouted out the door.

  “Kele.” Peder sat on the edge of the cot and waved her to him.

  She hurried to his side. “Don’t move yet. I haven’t looked at your other wounds.”

  “I don’t have any other wounds, just that one on my side.”

  “But…” She gestured to all the blood and understanding finally dawned. “It’s all theirs.” She swallowed the hard lump in her throat.

  “Something hungry lives inside me, Kele.” He set his hand over his heart. “I glimpsed it tonight and didn’t like what I saw.” He rubbed his chest.

  “I feel bad.”

  “Yeah, so do I.”

  She grabbed a cloth and soaked it in the water then washed the cut in his side. It had stopped bleeding. “You were placed in a bad situation.” Seizing the bottle of hard spirits, she grimaced. It would sting and she loathed adding to his pain. She poured the fiery liquid over the open cut.

  He hissed as it splashed over his flesh, then snatched the bottle and took a long drink.

  She threaded the needle, then splashed more alcohol on it as well as her hands. Susan had explained this process to her and it had helped reduce infection within her pack.

  Peder sat still as she sewed the edges on his wound together. He remained quiet throughout the process, just like when the vampire slaver, Huan, had branded him. “How do you do it?”

  “What?”

  “Not feel the pain.”

  “Who says I don’t feel it?”

  She stitched him again. “I do. You don’t even flinch.”

  “If I start to scream because I hurt, I fear I’d never stop.” He took another swig of the bottle. “And this helps, though I know I’ll regret it tomorrow.”

  She set aside the needle and examined her work in the flickering torchlight, deeming it satisfactory. She then wet the cloth in the bucket. “Stand.”

  He gave her a confused look.

  “I’m going to wash you and don’t want to wet the bed.”

  He seemed to draw into himself but he rose to his feet without comment.

  She started at his shoulders and worked her way over his fine-muscled back. His shoulders carried so much pain, no wonder they seemed strong. She ran the cloth down along his narrow hips and hesitated over his firm ass. With her hand, she caressed the smooth skin that covered the hard muscles.

  He jumped and tossed her a heated look over his shoulder.

  “What?” She fluttered her eyelashes like she’d seen so many omega females do in her den. “I was curious.”

  “What else are you curious about?” He flashed her grin so charming her dress almost melted off her body.

  She shook her head at his open invitation. “You’re hurt.”

  He laughed, the sound so delightful in such a terrible place it seemed almost a sin. “You really are sweet, Kele, if you think that makes a difference to a male.” The welcoming heat in his gaze intensified.

  She licked her parched lips and his gaze darted to her mouth. Kele resumed washing him before she succumbed to temptation. She had to let him heal like Timothy said. The slaver wouldn’t be easy on Peder in the morning. She washed the backs of his legs and moved to the front.

  His cock jutted out and curved to his stomach, almost touching his navel. He caught her stare. “Do you want to touch it?”

  “You’re incorrigible.” She rose and washed the smug grin off his face. “Behave.”

  “Impossible.”

  Now she was grinning. What a fool she’d become. A happy idiot slave. Goddess save her.

  He rested his hands on her hips. “You’re beautiful.”

  She washed a clean line in the center of his chest. The cut lines of his muscles drew her gaze like a lodestone. Hunters of her den were similarly built yet she hadn’t had trouble looking away when they’d been naked. She slowed her washing pace to fondle his chest through the cloth.

  The nub of his nipple slid under the rough material and he moaned. “Bite it.”

  She glanced up at him, unsure. He never appeared this tall before tonight.

  He nodded.

  A nervous laugh slipped from her lips. “Okay.” She sucked the rock-hard pebble in her mouth and rolled it between her teeth.

  “Yes, like that. Now nip, but don’t bite it off.”

  She did as instructed and sensed him arch his back. Kissing her way to the other one, she repeated the process.

  Peder’s lips were parted as he watched her with intensity. Everything she’d dreamed of in a male was within her arms, dangled before her but unable to be kept. Cruel, that was what their Goddess had become. Unforgiving bitch finally granted her wish but only for single night.

  Kele retreated from his arms and rinsed the cloth. Better to have one night in bliss than a lifetime of oblivion and what-ifs. She knelt before him and washed his legs again. Slowly. All the while his cock hovered close to her watering mouth.

  “You’re killing me.” Peder moaned and rolled his hips. “Touch me, Kele.”

  “I have been touching you.” She leaned forward and blew a light breeze over his shaft. Heat radiated from Peder and he shivered. With her tongue, she traced from base to tip.

  One night, not long ago, she’d come across Ahote in the den’s inner gardens. An omega female was on her knees, sucking his cock. Many said omegas were the least powerful in a pack, but at that moment, the expression on Ahote’s face revealed he would have given her anything to never stop. That was a power in itself and she wanted to see that look on Peder’s face—except she didn’t have that female’s experience. It appeared simple enough.

  Her heart had been transformed into a terrified bird, taking to fluttering uncontrollably within her chest. “I want to try something.”

  “Anything.”

  “Are you sure?” She rested her hand on his stomach and rubbed her cheek against his groin.

  He sucked in a sharp breath. “You can’t do anything to me that I won’t like.”

  “You’ll need to guide me. I want to do it right.” She angled his cock toward her mouth, sliding it inside along her tongue.

  He hissed out a breath and stepped closer, burying his fingers in her hair. “There is a Goddess.” The skin covering his iron-hard shaft felt velvety soft.

  She imagined it penetrating her body as it did her mouth and she moaned. The tip hit the back of her throat and she gagged a little. Horrified, she glanced up.

  He didn’t appear to have noticed.

  She slid him out and back in, increasing her pace.

  “Use your tongue, Kele. Caress me with it.” He pushed the hair away from her face and watched her closely. “Oh, fuck.” His hips moved a little, matching her rhythm.

  Molding her tongue to his cock, she licked and sucked until she saw Peder’s look.

  “Oh Goddess, Kele.” He closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear watching her take him in her mouth anymore. “I want more than this.”

  She hesitated. She didn’t know how to give more.

  He pulled out of her mouth and lifted her so fast a wave of dizziness spun her head. With a few quick tugs, he guided her dress over her head and yanked her into his strong arms, slamming his mouth to hers. This wasn’t like last night’s kiss, full of exploration and passion. Tonight, Peder took her like he was a male dying for breath and she was his only air. Hungry and savage, he claimed her. Nails biting into her skin, hard cock pushed against her stomach, and the throb of desire pulsing in between her legs.

  Lying on the bed, he turned her around and laid her on top until she straddled his face. Where were they going with this? She tried to catch her breath when his tongue probed between her labia going directly for her aching entrance.

  To her dismay, she mewled and arched into his unexpected touch. She fell to her hands, her forehead resting on his stomach as he kissed her between the thighs just like he had her mouth. “Peder.” She stretched the cry of his name, not caring what the guards outside heard.

  H
is cock rubbed the side of her face as he thrust his hips in the air.

  She guided it back to her mouth, needing to be connected to him in the same way he was to her. Needed him to be as wanton. A bead of moisture dripped from the tip of his cock and she moaned at the eorthy taste.

  Peder moved his mouth over her aching bud, massaging it with his hard tongue, and slid his fingers inside her.

  Like a knot loosening, she came undone. She climaxed so hard she howled, and so did he as he came as well. Exhausted, she flopped on top of him.

  He guided her limp limbs until he held her against him. Burying his face in her hair, he made a satisfied noise. “I never want this night to end.” Like a protective cocoon, he wrapped his arms and legs around her. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He sounded wistful. “I’m usually the one doing that job.”

  “Not with me. I will always do my best to care for you.”

  “A hunter taking care of an omega? Sounds like a mating.”

  She cupped his face in her hands. “There is nothing omega about you, Peder.”

  “You think I’m hunter trained now?” He gave her a teasing smile.

  “No, I think you’re something more.”

  “That’s the sex talking. Maybe after a few more rounds, I can get you to call me a god.”

  She laughed and clapped her hand over her mouth. “Stop that. I’m being serious.”

  “I know you are and you’re sweet to think that.” He kissed her forehead and curled around her once more. After a quiet spell, he whispered in a sleepy voice, “Will you keep my mark?”

  “For as long as I can,” she mumbled back.

  “Good.”

  The next morning, they were roused by the clang of the cell door swinging open and hitting the wall.

  “Rise and shine, Goldie.”

  Peder rolled on top of her and covered her nudity from Timothy’s prying eyes.

  “There’s more to you than your good looks. Time to train.” He clapped his hands loudly. “I gave you your night. Now it’s time to work for your keep.”

  “And hers.” Peder glared at the slaver.

  “No, you’re not that good, wolf. She’ll have to earn her own keep from now on.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  What purpose could Timothy have for requesting her presence? None that Pemma could think of, yet Ewald had still dragged her on this errand when all she wanted was some much-needed sleep. Timothy raised the hairs on the back of her neck. The slaver held dark secrets and darker desires. Things she didn’t want to discover.

  This city contained things worse than bad smells. Besides the shipping of goods to Europa, the core of their businesses relied on the selling of other people like cattle. Restaurants, hotels, and drinking establishments catered to the slavers, sailors, and immigrants. Without the slaving, their income would be considerably less, because a part of vampire economy was based on the suffering of her people. She always thought of her pack as free, but now she wondered if that was a guise. If they had tried to set out on their own, would Ewald’s father have sent soldiers to hunt them down? She was beginning to believe it possible.

  And last night’s fights…shifter challenges rarely were to the death. She’d never seen a person die. Brutal nightmares plagued her all night until she’d taken refuge in Ewald’s arms.

  “You’re unusually quiet.” Ewald leaned forward in their carriage and traced her frown with his fingertip. “Are you still thinking about last night?”

  She tried to smile but utterly failed.

  “If I’d known it would have been so—so—”

  “Brutally savage?”

  “Yes! I wouldn’t have brought you.” He rested his hand on her knee, but for the first time, she took no comfort from him.

  “We’ve come to an uncivilized place. Makes me wonder how much worse it will be when we travel west.”

  “Pemma.” He pulled her onto his lap and sighed. “We both knew this journey would be hard.”

  “I know, but I’d only thought of the physical hardships. Not the weariness that lies on my heart already and we haven’t even left the city.” What choice did she have? Her pack would leave with Ewald. Where would she go? How would she earn passage to return home to her mother? She sniffed. It was too late for all that. Regrets would only drag her further down. “I don’t like being around the slavers and I don’t like the way Timothy looks at me. It makes me want to wash in Gram’s scalding laundry water.”

  “I know and I hate to admit it, but that’s why I want you along. I need you to distract Timothy while I speak with the vampires in his employ. That cat shifter doesn’t inspire my trust and the less he knows of our business the better.”

  She lifted her face to glare at Ewald. “Exactly how do you expect me to distract him?”

  “Well, I was thinking you could shop for a slave.”

  “What?” She was sure the passersby on the street could hear her shrieked question. Of all the things he could have asked her to do. She would have rather been invited to blow the damn cat shifter.

  “We won’t actually buy one. You’ll just tell him that none of them suit your needs.”

  She crossed her arms and stuck out her chin. “Oh, I can manage that.”

  The carriage came to a halt and the footman opened the door and assisted her to the ground. They’d left Maxim at the manor since he had his own errands to run for Ewald. The cat shifter had seemed even more irritated with her once he’d heard Ewald’s plan to bring Pemma.

  The scent of salt water and fish almost overcame the stench of city waste and too many people living together in close quarters. Made of stone, the slaver’s compound loomed above her. It looked more like a prison. Could she really face these slaves and flaunt her freedom?

  “Ewald?” She backed against him. “Can I stay in the carriage instead?”

  He set his hands on her arms. “Do this for the pack. We need the information and I’d rather speak with these trappers in private. I don’t want to be announcing to just anyone where we’re going.”

  “Yes, master.” Her voice sounded small even to her.

  “Don’t start with the master shit. You know how I hate that.”

  She gave him a small smile. “Sorry.”

  The sound of a wolf shifter growling greeted them as they entered the compound. Some of the slaves within the holding area watched their arrival with interest. One of the vampire guards approached and Ewald informed him of their appointment with Timothy.

  The dark cat shifter arrived not long after someone was dispatched to retrieve him. “Forgive me, my lord. I was in the middle of a training session and didn’t hear your arrival.” He took Pemma’s hand without permission and kissed her knuckles. “Lady Pemma, ravishing as always.”

  “I’m not a lady.” She pulled her hand away from his.

  His smile turned wicked. “I bet you’re not.”

  She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing, and opened her mouth—before Ewald clamped a hand on her upper arm to stop her from expressing exactly what she thought of Timothy. She could almost sense her mother’s disapproval from across the ocean. An omega never spoke her mind. She stayed quiet and kept her ears open. With a couple tugs, she settled her dress from after the short ride and let her gaze drop. She wouldn’t grovel for forgiveness. Neither of these males deserved her loyalty.

  “Timothy.” Ewald offered his hand as though they were equals. “I’m glad you’ve arranged this meeting.” They discussed who these vampire slavers were and their credentials.

  There was a large prison cell across from her where shifters had drifted to the front and watched Ewald. One of them had the palest blonde hair she’d ever seen. When she was in feral form, was her pelt white?

  “I was also wondering—while I’m chatting with these fine fellows—if you could show Pemma some of your stock. I think it’s time for her to have her own servant.” Ewald’s proud smile turned her stomach.

  It was a ruse. He acted very well and sh
e should do her part. “Yes, it would be nice to have someone to share my chores.” Like she had many. Most of the time, she needed to beg work from her pack to keep her hands busy and let her feel like part of them. They wanted her available to Ewald and she understood, but it was boring sitting in a corner pretending to stare vacantly. At least when she had socks or kilts to darn, it made her feel useful instead of used.

  Timothy’s gaze traveled from Ewald and slowly up her body. “Pleasure’s all mine.” He gestured toward a small building off to the right. “The vampire I have in residence is Huan. He recently brought in a fine haul. You saw one of them last night kill both his opponents, the feral Goldie.”

  Goose bumps formed on her skin. Why should it shock her that Timothy owned the shifter who’d given her nightmares? She turned her back on them and wandered toward the cage. Something to her left caught her eye. A single wooden post stood across from the cage. A whipping post. Ewald’s father had such a thing in his yard. They punished criminals there on occasion.

  Long ago, when she was a pup, her father had been beaten to death on the post while drunk from their master’s ale. His blood had soaked the wood. Upon examining it the next day, she had found the surface clean of any trace of her father. Being drunk wasn’t a capital offense or half her pack would have been buried in graves. No one spoke of her father or why he’d been killed. She secretly suspected this was why Gram gave Gramp so much trouble when he drank too much. Her only memories were of the way he smelled and the sound of her mother’s tortured tears the weeks following his death. Her mother had never been the same after.

  She drew closer and startled when she spotted two sweaty shifter males in civil form sitting on the ground. Their threadbare kilts hung low on their hips and they wore no shirts. “Hello.” If she was the judge, she’d say they were in fine shape. Most likely hunters. “I’m Pemma.” The bold and brash.

  The darker one grinned and rose to his feet. “I’m Nahuel. This is Peder.”

  His friend raised his golden head and she couldn’t help but stare. Bards sang of beautiful females all the time but she dared guess there would to be a song for Peder in the future. He nodded.