Blood Trinity by Sherrilyn Kenyon
Why was he telling her this? He had to know she'd tell the Beladors as soon as she got free. Did he want her to tell the Beladors so her tribe would attack the Kujoo?
Did he really think that just because he was an Alterant she'd join his side if he was part of the annihilation of everything that mattered to her? "Brina won't sit quietly while you do this."
"By all means, tell her. Tell all the Beladors. The more the merrier. The Medb will be waiting."
That definitely sounded like a trap. "What do you mean?"
"That's all I'm sharing. Be smart and come with me."
"When did you start thinking I was Barbie and you were Ken? What are you offering me to come with you? I'll take a convertible in any color but pink."
"You could save the Beladors."
She didn't believe he would help her do that. "How?"
"Give me what I want and I'll tell you how."
"Oh, sure. Hand you the rock and trust you not to kill everyone with it."
Tristan cocked his head to one side, studying her. "Here's a freebie to use as you choose. If you tell Brina I've escaped and am working with the Medb, she'll come straight to me and she'll die first, which works for me."
"She only travels as a hologram." That was common knowledge among anyone who knew about Brina.
He shrugged. "The Medb shared a lot of information with me, including Brina and Tzader's history. They can kill her if she comes to them this time in any form."
What did he mean about Brina and Tzader's history? He'd said that as if he meant the two of them together. And he knew about Brina in hologram form.
The Medb had been doing a good job of educating Tristan.
He wasn't finished sharing. "If Brina comes to me, so will Tzader and his sidekick, Quinn, who will call in an army of Beladors. They'll play into the Medb and Kujoo's plans, then they'll all die before the Kujoo get to the point of wiping out the Belador race. You decide if you want to tell Brina, because she can find me the minute she learns I've escaped. Up to you to tell them or not."
"If you hurt Tzader or Quinn, you'll wish you were back in that cage," she promised.
"If I was only an Alterant, you might win, but not with the power of the Medb behind me, and I'll be even more powerful once I get the Ngak Stone." Tristan's confidence froze her blood. "You want to keep your tribe safe? Find that rock and bring it to me yourself on Wednesday morning, and I'll tell you how to protect the Beladors."
The pain in her leg interfered with thinking straight. "Let's say I believe you, which I don't. What if I don't find the rock first?"
"If I find the rock first I'll give you one other chance to save the Beladors."
Did he think they were playing Let's Make A Deal? "What would you possibly be willing to take in trade for letting the Beladors live?"
"You."
Both offers were unfair, unrealistic and undesirable. Stay with him? He was insane on top of being a monster.
Tristan stood quietly for a moment. "I need a female Alterant to populate our species."
Ah, consolation female for the group. He was out of his ever-lovin' mind. "And if I choose to accept either of these incredibly attractive offers, how would I find you if the Nightstalkers don't know?"
He smiled at her sarcasm as if he'd find her entertaining company. "I plan to get my hands on that rock first. When I do, I'll call you to me."
None of this made sense, and he was crazier than bat shit if he thought she'd go for that bunch of hooey. But she'd play along since he was going to let her live. "I'll have to think about it. I don't understand any of this."
Tristan touched his fingers to her chin and she held still only to show him she didn't fear him. She could lie with her body as well as her mouth. "You will eventually, but I've told you enough for now. Make the right choice when the time comes. I take care of what's mine."
She scoffed. "I am not yours."
"Yet." He lifted his fingers and combed them through his thick blond hair. "Don't waste your time trying to follow me. You can't."
Evalle shook with rage over his arrogance to think she'd consider walking away from the Beladors for him. Sure, a part of her wanted to be safe and out from under the threat of the Tribunal. But not with this guy, who had been trying to kill her until he'd realized who she was.
What about everything else he'd told her?
Could Brina be killed if she appeared only as a hologram? Did the Medb have a way to reach her through that form with the Ngak Stone? What if she didn't believe there was a Medb trap and told the Beladors, then her tribe was lured to their deaths? Doing so could doom Tzader and Quinn. That wasn't a risk she wanted to take. And would they even believe her, given she'd been warned by a rogue Alterant?
Tristan strolled quietly to the street and disappeared. The minute he stepped out of the park, the buzzing in her ears subsided.
Had she been inside a warded area or some sort of spell zone? She didn't think Alterants could do that kind of magic or disappear, but then she didn't know as much as Tristan did about Alterants, Brina or the Beladors, because Brina had kept her in the dark about so much.
And she didn't know how much of Tristan's ability was due to Noirre majik.
She sent a telepathic message. Tzader, we need to meet. I've got news on the Ngak Stone and it's not good.
Within a minute, Tzader answered, Meet at Trey's house. I'll contact the rest of the team. You bring Storm.
She'd forgotten about Storm and limped around, turning in a circle as she searched the park for him. Using her kinetic ability, she pulled her sunglasses up from the ground and put them on.
Her calf muscle ached like something was trying to chew its way out where the ghoul had stabbed her. It felt as if her skin was burning from the inside out.
The rain had died down to a drizzling mist. There came Storm down the concrete steps in the middle of the park. He jogged up to her, his face lined with worry when he touched her cheek.
She flinched when his fingers brushed her bruised face.
"What happened to you? I can feel sharp needles of pain coming off you."
"Got stabbed in the back of my leg by something like that ghoul thing you chased. You catch him?"
"No. And he's not the only one. I ran into three more in the park. I had to stay and watch over a human couple until the ghouls left." Storm stepped around behind her and squatted down, gently checking her leg.
But the slightest touch sent spasms of pain shooting up her calf and thigh. "Crap!"
"I don't like the color oozing out of this wound."
"What do you mean? I bleed red just like everyone else."
"There's purple running with the blood. You could be infected by some sort of majik. This smells like spoiled oranges."
That would be the color and smell of Medb majik. What would that do to her? "We have to meet the rest of the team at Trey's house."
"You aren't walking far with that." Storm stood up and leaned as though to lift her.
"Don't even think about picking me up if you want to draw your next breath," she warned.
"You're so stubborn." He didn't try to hide the irritation in his voice. "Whatever's in your system could cause you to shift involuntarily or kill you if it stays in long enough."
"I'll let you know if I start feeling twitchy." She sounded like a snotty bitch, but she was working real hard not to upchuck.
"That's reassuring," he said in a tight voice. "How far is Trey's house?"
"About a mile."
"We'd get there a lot faster and you wouldn't be in as much pain if you'd let me help you."
"I can handle the pain." Barely. "Let's go." She hobbled along, trying not to think about how sick she felt. What had that ghoul infected her with?
"What's the meeting about?" Storm asked.
"I found the Ngak Stone."
"Where is it?"
"Worst possible place. The stone and the woman who has it are with a Kujoo warrior." And they couldn't have picked a w
If so, that meant Brina could be lying to her about the other Alterants.
What about Vyan? How did he fit into all this?
She didn't know why Vyan had tried to protect the woman from Tristan, but just the fact that the Kujoo warrior had done so made Evalle wonder if there was some dissent among the Kujoo.
Regardless, Vyan had to relish wiping out all the Beladors as much as the other Kujoo and Tristan did.
Heat crawled up her leg, tugging her awareness back to the most immediate threat. Could Medb majik kill an Alterant?
Just her suck-ass luck to be the test case.
TWENTY-SIX
Laurette waited for the man lying in her living room to get up and kill her.
He could do it. Thanks to her magic rock, she'd had enough vision to see him draw a sword on another guy who'd thrown lightning bolts from his fingers in Piedmont Park.
A sword. Lightning bolts from humans.
All that had been before she'd magically traveled from the park to her little cottage a couple blocks away.
She looked down at the glowing rock in her hand. Magic. She'd never believed in magic, but what other explanation was there for standing in one place one minute then showing up in another the next?
Brutus came running back into the living room, his mouth still dripping water from where he'd gone to his bowl in the kitchen. She'd freed his leash from the inert guy's body the minute she'd gotten here, but his water-soaked body was still sprawled in the middle of her floor. Dripping all over her braided rug that had seen better years.
Grandpa Barrett would hoot over this if he were still alive. He used to tell her how life was full of magic.
That a miracle was just pure magic.
She could understand how a hundred voices raised in prayer to a higher form could result in a miracle.
But a rock?
Brutus sniffed all around the arm of the unconscious man on the floor. Then he sniffed the guy's long wet hair also clinging to her rug.
"Careful, Brutus. He might wake up," she whispered. She wished he would wake up so she could ask him who he was and how he'd known about her rock. And how she'd gotten home.
This guy had told her, "Run and get rid of that rock."
After what she'd seen tonight, there was no way she'd let go of this rock. It had been the only thing to save her at the park. And who was that woman who had shown up and that other guy who'd tried to kill this one?
That tall woman had called this guy Vyan.
She'd also told Laurette to get rid of the rock.
The man in Laurette's living room moaned, but the sound barely reached her ears.
Brutus ran over and jumped up on the sofa next to her, where they normally sat to listen to a television show.
Guilt started eating at her even though she'd laid a towel over this Vyan's shoulder. Those lightning bolts had cut his shoulder and stabbed his chest. He was still bleeding.
If she didn't stop the bleeding, he might die.
Then what would she do? How would she explain any of this to the police?
What about the rock? If the rock was full of magic, she could use it to heal him. She lifted the rock and said, "Fix this guy's wounds." Nothing happened. "Make him healthy." Still nothing. "Make him go away?"
His body didn't move an inch.
Dang, dang, dang! She'd have to do something about that bleeding herself or he was going to die.
She got up and eased over a little at a time until she was next to him, then dropped down on her knees with Brutus at her side. "I have no idea what to do with lightning bolt cuts. I need bandages and disinfectant."
A first aid kit appeared on the other side of her. "Now you want to help?" she asked the rock, exasperated.
Inside the kit, she found everything clearly marked. Using a pair of scissors in shaking hands, she carefully cut away his T-shirt until she had the entire thing off his chest. Skin around the shoulder injury and on the side of his chest was red and swollen. She tried to be careful and not hurt him when she dressed the wounds.
By the time she was finished, sweat lined her brow, but her hands had stopped shaking. She cleaned up the mess and deposited everything in the kitchen, then went looking for a blanket to cover him with. Not that her old house was cold in the middle of August, but anyone who went through serious injuries would be chilled from a shock reaction.
Humans would be. Was this guy human?
Her faithful Brutus hung close the entire time, giving her a sense of protection. She kept the rock close, too, but when she reached the living room with the blanket hooked inside one arm she paused before putting the rock in her baggy pants pocket so she could have a clear look at this Vyan from standing above him.
The two braids running along the sides of his angular face gave him a dangerous rogue look. His nut brown skin, shoulder-length black hair and strange accent made her think Mediterranean, but the shape of his eyes and thick lashes hinted at Chinese ancestry somewhere in his background. He sure as heck wasn't your everyday guy.
But that beautiful chest of his could belong to a fireman or a soldier or a guy who just enjoyed working out in the gym.
She'd never been so close to perfection in a male body, or to many men at all.
But this one carried a sword that looked older than time and fought lightning bolts.
Sliding the rock into her pocket, she shook out the blanket and covered him up to his neck. When she reached to pull a pillow off the couch, her gaze stumbled at the sword lying on the floor. She slipped the pillow under his head, then walked around the room, closing the curtains just in case anyone looked in.
The sword rested too close to him even if he was out cold.
She tiptoed over and reached down to see if she could lift the huge thing, and a sizzle of energy ran along the handle as if in warning.
Yanking her hand back, she scooted around his supine body and turned toward her bedroom, planning to blockade herself inside.
A sound from the floor stopped her.
She stood dead still, heart racing, then looked over her shoulder at her patient.
His chest moved with soft breaths, less pained than before she'd bandaged him. She must be tired to think he'd made that sound. He was too wiped out to move. "Come on, Brutus."
Vyan stayed perfectly still until the young woman was out of the room. When a door down the hallway closed, he opened his eyes.
He had kept his eyes shut when he'd awakened at hearing her close by, telling her dog to be careful around him. He'd almost laughed when she'd tried to get the stone to heal him, though he would have appreciated being mended at the time, since the cuts in his body burned.
That was only until this angel had ignored her fear and put her gentle hands on him. He tried to remember the last time a woman had touched him with care. Something deep inside his chest was unleashed, a yearning for what he'd once had many years ago.
Why was that angel caught in this dangerous circle of trouble?
Lifting his head, he looked all around until he saw his sword lying a couple feet away. Close enough to reach.
He would protect his angel, and the best way to do that would be by getting that rock out of her hands.
TWENTY-SEVEN
By the time Trey's house was in view a half block away, sweat gleamed across Evalle's face and upper body, and not just from the heat still rolling through Atlanta at midnight. Her skin pebbled with a feverish chill.
The back of her leg was on fire. Muscles twitched and curled in her body.
She fought the urge to change into a beast. Every instinct was telling her she'd heal from the wound if she did, but making that mistake in view of the team would seal her fate with the Tribunal.
She kept hobbling along the sidewalk and chanced a quick look at Storm. He hadn't said another word after she'd forbidden him from
He must have felt her eyes, because his gaze cut over to her. "You don't have to be in this much pain. I could ease it before you get around the team."
"Thanks, but no." She didn't trust anyone to take control of her emotions or her sensory abilities. Not even someone she'd allowed to kiss her.
Did that make me a control freak? Damn straight.
Men who offered to take care of her were dangerous.
The doctor her aunt had worked for had visited Evalle in the basement from the time she was eight until she was fifteen. He'd been her only friend. He'd promised not to hurt her when he'd performed her first female physical exam.
He'd said he was there to take care of her.
And he hadn't hurt her. His touch had been clinical and his words had soothed her anxiety.
She hadn't found out he'd been lying all along until the next house call after that, a week later, when he'd wanted to talk to Evalle about her test results. Her aunt had given the thirty-four-year-old family doctor keys to her house and to Evalle's basement room so he could make a stop while her aunt had been working in his medical center.
He'd taken that private opportunity to give Evalle a hands-on lesson in his twisted fantasy.
"You have to get the Noirre venom out of your leg before you lose control," Storm said, breaking her free from reliving that nightmare again. "I can see you fighting it."
Her skin was clammy and cold in spite of the perspiration. She tightened her stomach muscles, anything to keep what was fighting to get out locked down. Cartilage along her forearms hardened and rippled beneath her skin. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists until the ridges along her arms dropped back to normal skin and muscle. She'd explain the torn sleeves as having happened during battle, which was true.
"I can control myself," she gritted out. "Tzader will know what to do."
Tzader and Quinn were the only two she trusted not to say a word to Sen, who could use the Noirre majik infection as a way to put her into quarantine.
When she reached the walkway to the old Victorian house that Trey's wife and sister-in-law owned, Evalle searched the group of people clustered on the veranda stretching from corner to corner across the front.