Sin Undone

Eighteen

“Well?”

Luc tossed a log onto the fire and cast a glance over his shoulder at Kar, who was curled up under a blanket on the couch. The fire was roaring hot, and Luc had moved the couch closer to the hearth, but she was still cold. It was all he could do not to stretch out with her and add his body heat to hers. He wanted to—if she had SF, he’d already been exposed. But she wouldn’t let him come near.

The odd thing was, she wasn’t nearly as sick as she should be if she’d contracted the disease. Maybe it wasn’t SF. Or maybe it affected Feast wargs differently. Either way, he needed to get hold of Eidolon. He’d called the hospital and E’s apartment, but nothing. And no one seemed to know where he was. Hell, he couldn’t get hold of any of the brothers. Or Con. If he couldn’t get hold of Eidolon soon, he was going to have to make a run for the Harrowgate in the daylight, slayers or no.

“Luc, we need to talk.”

“You’re sick. You need to rest.”

She struggled to sit up, and he leaped to his feet to help her. “Don’t touch me,” she said, but it was too late. He eased her into a sitting position and stepped back.

“Kar, you really need to rest. If this is SF—”

“If it’s SF,” she said quietly, “then what I need to do is talk.”

Well, that sobered him right up. She wanted to keep her mind off it, and he was a big bastard if he didn’t let her. “Okay, yeah. What do you want to talk about?”

She looked at him like he was an idiot. How females could manage that even when they had exhaustion circles under their eyes and fever rashes on their cheeks, he had no idea. “Are you still singing that same tune? I can name fewer things we don’t need to talk about than what we do.”

“Is this about the kid? Because I don’t see the big deal. You stay here, have it, and we raise it.”

Kar buried her face in her hands and shook her head. “How long has it been since you were human?”

He blinked at that. “I was twenty-four when I was bitten. That was in 1918.”

It was her turn to blink. “Wow. You’re old.”

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“How have you managed to not knock up anyone else in all that time?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Or do you have a bunch of puppies running around?”

He tossed another log onto the fire, even though it didn’t need it. “No, I don’t have any offspring.”

“Do you remember what it was like to be a kid? To have parents?”

The fire crackled and hissed as though taunting him to answer Kar’s idiotic questions. He grabbed up a poker and jabbed at the logs. “It was a long time ago.”

“That’s not what I asked,” she said quietly.

“The turn of the century wasn’t a good time to be the eighth son in a poor family.” Not at all. He’d been raised on a farm in the Midwest, had been introduced to backbreaking work before he was three. His parents were as good as they could have been, but when every daylight hour was taken up with work, either on the farm or in the kitchen, there wasn’t much time for play or hugs. At sixteen, he’d left home, joined the military, and never looked back.

Except… he had. The soldiers he’d fought with in France had become the tight-knit family he’d never had. At least, until they started dying in battle. A massacre had left him alone and injured, wandering through the woods in an attempt to escape the enemy. He’d been found, but not by a human foe.

A werewolf had attacked him. He’d managed to fight it off, but then he’d lain there, so mangled that when the human enemy did find him, they’d left him for dead.

He’d shifted into a werewolf that night, healing his wounds, and he’d awakened the next morning lying among the shredded remains of a dozen American soldiers.

Soldiers he’d killed.

Sickened, frightened, and confused, he’d gone AWOL. He barely remembered how he’d survived after that, running only on instinct and the desire to kill the monster who’d infected him. Three years later, his sire was dead, and Luc had returned to America.

“What happened?” Kar asked.

“I went to war, was bitten by a warg, and when I came home, I learned that four of my brothers and sisters, and my mother, had died of influenza. My oldest brother was killed in a farming accident. And my father was nursing what was left of his mind.”

Luc had tried to help, had chained himself in the barn on nights of the full moon, but in his third month, he’d broken free, killed livestock, and bit his youngest brother, Jeremiah. What happened next had pushed Luc over the edge and right into a solitary existence.

Jer had turned into a werewolf that next night, had killed their father and sister. When he woke up and realized what he’d done, he’d taken his own life.

Luc sank to the floor and leaned back against the couch cushions. “And because of me, because I bit my brother, I lost the rest of my family.”

“Hey,” Kar said gently, as she lay her hand on his shoulder. The intimate, comforting gesture startled Luc, made his throat close up a little. She had every reason to hate him, to use him for protection and nothing else, but she was still trying to make the best out of a shitty situation.

“What?” He pulled away, twisted around so he was facing her.

“I know you don’t want this. A baby wasn’t exactly on my to-do list, either.” She rubbed her belly, and a tiny smile crimped her mouth. “But I love the little tadpole now. I want it, and I’ll do anything to protect it. That means I’ll protect it from you, too.”

“You think I would harm my own kid?”

“Not intentionally. You’d be protective and fierce and possessive. But Luc, if you can’t love it, if you can’t connect with it, you will harm it.”

Luc stared into the fire. The flames licked the logs, eating at the wood and putting out so much heat that surely it could melt the wall of ice inside him. Kar was right. The kid would probably be human—it needed parents who could love it.

Which was why he’d been so okay with having cubs with Ula—she’d been pricolici, so the offspring would have been raised in the harsher world of the warg, where the males existed to protect, not nurture. Luc could definitely protect.

Nurture? He closed his eyes, but they flew open when Kar took his hand and placed it on her belly.

“You can’t feel it yet. It’s not even a bump. But it’s there. Your baby.”

Something inside him cracked a little. But that tiny fissure felt like an earthquake in his soul. Your baby. What if he didn’t like it? What if he couldn’t love it? He jerked his hand away like the thing inside was a viper.

“I… ah…” He leaped to his feet, at a complete loss. Then he spun toward the door. “Do you hear that?”

Kar looked up, her expression filled with skepticism. No doubt she thought he was trying to weasel out of the conversation. “Hear what?”

“I don’t know. Could be a branch dropping from a tree.” The storm had died down, leaving only silence in its wake. He eased cautiously to the window, but he kept his back to the wall as he peered out.

Kar pushed to her feet. “Do you see anything?”

A glint of metal against the field of white brought his hackles up. “Stay down.”

Kar sank smoothly to her haunches, her Aegis training and warg instincts kicking in. “What is it?”

“I think the slayers have found you.”

“Damn them,” she breathed. “Where are your weapons?”

“You mean, besides the rifle and shotgun propped next to the door, the six other shotguns and pistols on the wall, and the crossbow in the corner stand?”

She gave him a dry look. “Yes, besides those.”

“I have a chest full of various blades in my bedroom, and in the metal chest downstairs, I have dynamite.”

“Seriously?” she asked, and when he grinned, she returned his smile. “Awesome.”

He nearly laughed, something he hadn’t done in a long time. But damn, how many females actually lit up like lanterns when you mentioned you had explosives in the house? “I need you to go downstairs and keep quiet. I’ll see if I can get them out of here.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Do it,” he barked. “The basement is concealed—they might suspect you’re here, but even if they come in, which they won’t, they wouldn’t be able to find you.”

“Luc, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She eyed the weapons near the door. “I might be pregnant, but I’m not helpless.”

“This isn’t because you’re pregnant.” Humans treated pregnant women like they were made of glass, but even before he’d been turned, he’d known they were tougher than that—he’d seen his mother go through three pregnancies, working just as hard on the farm as his father had, right up until she went into labor. And warg mothers were even tougher than that, fighting and hunting until the day they gave birth.

“Then what?” Suddenly she stiffened, and a low, lethal growl rumbled in her chest.

“Kar? What is it?”

“Werewolves.” Her eyes flashed, and her lips peeled back from her teeth. “It’s not The Aegis. It’s wargs. I feel them. A lot of them.”

A block of ice dropped into the pit of Luc’s stomach. “Exterminators. The teams they send to destroy Feast wargs.” And then he felt it… a wave of violence crashing into him like a tsunami rising up out of hell. His blood thundered in his veins, his skin grew tight, and his joints stretched to the point of pain.

“Luc,” Kar gasped, and he spun to her. She doubled over, clutching her stomach. “I feel… a shift. It’s like I need to… kill.”

When too many wargs got together to fight, everyone shifted, no matter the time of month, the time of day. Kar definitely didn’t need to be out there killing with her venomous bite. “Get below!” His voice was distorted, mostly snarl, but she understood and crawled down to the basement. With long, claw-tipped hands, he slammed the hatch shut and rolled the rug over it.

Lurching, he threw open the door even as his body clenched, on the verge of contorting into his beast form.

The forest all around had come alive, was teeming with movement. On one side, varcolac, distinguishable from the born wargs by their varied sizes and colors of fur, and on the other side, pricolici, mostly dark, all massive, and ready to charge the others.

“What the hell!” Luc swung his head in the direction of the shout. Six humans—Guardians, if their wealth of weapons was any indication—stood near the river, in the middle of what was about to be tooth-and-claw hell.

Luc stepped outside just as the two warg sides met. The Guardians sprang into action, sending crossbow bolts into the fray. But one wheeled toward Luc, pistol trained.

Luc’s only thought as the bullet tore through his chest was that for years he didn’t care if he lived or died. Now he cared, but it might be too late.

The Harrowgate opened up to snow on the ground, blinding sunlight in the sky, and the clean, crisp crack of gunshots on the wind.

Con plowed through the shin-deep snow at a near run, with Wraith on his heels. Sin, E, Lore, and Shade were close behind. Tayla had gone to UG to round up medics.

Don’t be too late. Don’t be too late…

As they got closer, the unmistakable sounds of battle vibrated the air. Screams, bloodcurdling snarls, and the scent of blood guided them. Luc’s cabin was maybe fifty yards ahead when Con’s muscles vapor-locked, and he gasped and tripped over his own feet as he stumbled into a tree. Sin caught him, her strong body bracing against him.

“What’s wrong? Con?”

He couldn’t answer. His throat had closed up so that the only sound he could make was a growl. He was shifting and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He could only lessen the damage, and as quickly as he could, he stripped out of his shirt and pants.

“What’s going on?” Sin’s voice seemed distant, and then Eidolon yanked her away.

“The warg battle. He’s shifting. He’ll be fine. We have to go—” The sound of gunfire cut him off, and then wood sprayed in shards next to Sin’s head. “Shit! Slayers.”

Slayers who had tried to kill Sin.

They tried to kill my female.

Didn’t matter that the thought was insane. That it wasn’t true. That it could never be true. Something dark reached up and grabbed Con, squeezed rational thought out of his brain, and before he’d even fully shifted, he launched himself at the group of humans engaged in battle with dozens of wargs. The scene was chaos—wargs fighting each other and slayers in snow that had turned to pink, bloody slush.

He leaped, mouth watering as he prepared to bite right through a slayer. In midair, a gray mass of fur broadsided him. The warg’s teeth clamped onto his shoulder and his claws dug into Con’s ribs, and crazily enough, it was the damned slayer who brought down a blade and separated the warg’s head from his neck, probably saving Con’s life.

Faintly, he heard Eidolon order his brothers to gather the Guardians without killing them, something about Tay and Ky wanting them alive, and then another pricolici slammed into Con, and nothing mattered but the battle. The crunch of bone between his teeth, the taste of blood on his tongue.

He didn’t know how long the battle had raged when he felt a sting in his flank. Spinning, he rounded on the source… Sin?

She stood a few yards away, a crossbow trained on him. Searing agony stole his breath as his body turned inside out, twisting and morphing until he was back in his human form. She’d hit him with an Aegis morph dart, and damn, it hurt to shift with unnatural speed like that. He went to his knees, the icy snow scraping his bare skin. A god-awful snarl sounded behind him, and Sin, moving with catlike grace, launched a morning star at the charging warg while shooting another with the crossbow. The injuries wouldn’t be fatal, but the wargs fell to the ground, incapacitated by her well-placed strikes.

“You’re… damned good,” he rasped.

The cold-induced blush in her cheeks gave her a fresh, playful expression as she tossed him his clothes. “I’m made of awesome.” She offered him a hand. “Sorry about the dart, but Eidolon doesn’t know which of these werewolves is Luc, and he needs your help.” He could be macho and not take her help, but right now, his leg didn’t feel stable, he was sore from a dozen claw and bite wounds, and, really, he’d take the excuse to touch her. “I thought shifting healed you.”

The world tilted and spun a little, and shit, stop the ride, he was ready to get off.

“We all heal at different levels depending on our species and type of wounds. Trust me, I healed a lot in that shift.” Not as much as he’d have liked, but at least he wasn’t bleeding. He grunted and came to his feet. All around, the battle raged, and Sin took down another warg with a targeted shoulder shot as he plucked the dart out of his thigh and tossed it to the ground. “Has anyone checked the cabin for Luc?”

“Not that I know of.” She frowned. “Looks like the varcolac are retreating.”

Yeah, they were. The ground was littered with bodies and injured wargs, some of whom were starting to shift as the battle waned. He tugged on his jeans and whipped the shirt over his head. “Come on. Let’s search the cabin.”

Sin shook her head. “I’m going to help out the guys. You go.” Before he could argue, she was off and running.

“Sin!” he called after her. “Be careful. You still have assassins after you.”

She flashed him a wave with one hand and took down a warg with another.

Christ. The female was going to give him a heart attack.