Araneae Nation: The Complete Collection Page 11

  Here, my view of the vineyard was unobstructed. Here, I had a perfect view of the hatch.

  When I glanced down, the single set of footprints had vanished into the trees. Though my pulse still raced with the urge to chase the ghost of my sister’s presence, entering the forest alone was insanity. True fear for Pascale mantled my shoulders, dropping me to my knees in the grass.

  Hard evidence crushed any doubt I’d had her note wasn’t written in earnest. Kellen must have exited another tunnel, and they’d used this spot for meeting. She’d gone with her Theridiidae.

  Gods have mercy on her.

  “What are you doing so near the wall?”

  A Mimetidae warrior stood to my right with his hand on the hilt of his sword. I gained my feet in an instant. He wet his lips, and the sheen of moisture froze there. His eyes were curious, but his hunger was unmistakable. I saw now I’d been foolish to wonder at Rhys’s hungers. He had never appraised me this way, as if I were…edible. All at once, I was both relieved and unsettled.

  Fingers numb, I readied a thread. Or I hoped I did. I couldn’t risk a glance to be sure.

  “I came in search of my sister.” No harm in an honest answer.

  “You’re the Maven Lourdes.” He sounded thoughtful. “Rhys said we were to find your missing sister and return her.” He assessed me. “I’d wager by the dirt on your clothes and face, you sneaked past our guards somehow.” His eyes glittered. “I’d bet your partisan has no idea you’re up here, alone with the likes of me.” He laughed. “Shame what the Theridiidae did to you. I bet Rhys will mourn you right proper when I drop the remnants of your body at his feet.”

  His was not subtle as far as threats went, but his bald statement made it most effective.

  “The Theridiidae are archers. They use poison-tipped darts.” I backed up a step, hoping to put a tree or five between his hungry grin and me. “He’ll know they wouldn’t eat flesh they’d poisoned. It would be suicide.” I shuddered. “Besides, Theridiidae aren’t cannibalistic, like you.”

  He bared his fangs, licking the tips as he allowed himself a slow perusal of my body. I was grateful again Henri had lent me his coat, so all my more interesting parts were covered.

  “Who said anything about eating?” He swiped a hand down his face, and gods I hoped he wasn’t wiping away saliva. “Well, all right, maybe a taste.” He slid the same hand down his shirt as though he were smoothing wrinkles. “I find innocent females, such as you, are all the sweeter on the tongue after they’ve been…” his gaze dipped to my breasts, then lowered, “…tenderized.”

  His sword forgotten, he reached behind him, and the leather of his belt creaked. When he brought his hand around, a short mace was clutched in his fist. Spikes jutted from the spherical head, and I realized why the manner of my death mattered little to him. Bludgeoned to a bloody pulp, I’d be left a meaty corpse so pulverized a bite or two taken from my hide could be missed.

  I backed when he advanced. “Rhys will kill you for this.” I hoped he made it hurt.

  “He’d have to know, then, wouldn’t he?” He twisted his wrist. “Your people are safe. They’ll stay safe until Isolde gets the armor she wanted. After that, you’ve another sister or she has a niece who can wed one of your brothers.” He shrugged. “Plus Rhys has sampled you.”

  “He’s my partisan.” Indignation warred with fear and won. “Our affairs are our own.”

  “I’ve heard it said Rhys the Cold despises women—their heat burns him, threatens that wall of ice he keeps between him and the rest of the world.” He grinned. “I’ll wager he didn’t lay a finger on you.”

  I swallowed and broke eye contact.

  “He didn’t, eh? Figures. How’d he resist?”

  His tone had changed, lulled me. So when he charged, I spooked and bolted straight into the trees without a second thought as to what I knew prowled the forest beyond this small copse.

  Dead limbs slapped my face as I ran, slicing gashes unable to bleed for the cold.

  When I’d planned my escape, my goal had been simple. I wanted to see for myself where my sister had gone. My mistake was in assuming the Mimetidae would let me be if we crossed paths. At worst, I expected to be dragged before Rhys, where I’d explain myself. I’d been a fool.

  Banishment to the spinning rooms was a milder fate than the one I’d created for myself. My estimation of my cleverness had been generous. My reality, though, was lacking. I should have gone for Rhys. I’d rather he picked my motives apart than this male pick me from his teeth.

  I stumbled, and pain seared a red-hot seam from my shoulder to hip. He must have swung his mace. Pumping my legs harder, I couldn’t dwell on how my misstep had likely saved my life.

  Ahead, an overturned tree’s blackened limbs stretched toward the sky. I leapt the trunk and circled, keeping the tree between the Mimetidae and me. His face was flush, but instead of aggravated, he appeared invigorated by the chase. With brute strength, he slammed the mace through the thickest part of my cover and splinters flew. With a grunt, he crashed to my side of the tree.

  Panic stripped me of all logical thought. I doubled back, jumped the trunk and circled as he laughed and gave chase. His strike from above had snapped the limbs below and made a gap between the trunk and the ground. As I ran, I measured the hole and decided I’d fit through it.

  Heart pounding and lungs burning, I’d made myself drunk from the circular path I’d trodden over and around the tree. He had only to outlast me, and he showed no signs of slowing.

  Was this it, then? I’d die alone in the forest to a chorus of my own screams?

  When I jumped the trunk this time, my knees buckled and I went down hard. I had enough of a lead I was able to roll beneath the tree when he would have caught me. Thick curses shouted over my shoulder fueled my tumble forward. When I hit a tree’s roots, I pushed to stand when all I wanted was to lie still and find my breath. Turning so fast I wobbled, I located him.

  In his mad dash to finish our race, he’d lunged beneath the tree. He remained stuck there.

  “You’re clever, you are.” He cast me a wink as he grunted. “I fell for your trick.”

  I hadn’t enough air in my lungs to inform him he’d fallen for no trick of mine. Panting, I stared in the direction we’d come from. Muscles in my legs screamed in protest as I shifted my weight. “I’m going to leave you now.” I stepped forward, limping. “No one has to know of this.”

  His bark of laughter rang loud. “You do that.” His arm disappeared by his side. “Run to Rhys. Maybe you’ll reach him.” Before I blinked, he loosed a silver dagger. It sank deep in my side. “I’m betting you won’t.” His smile broadened and his struggle renewed. “I bet you don’t.”

  My hand shook as blood spilled through my fingers. “You’re not going to let me go.”

  “Now why would I do that?” He glanced up at me. “You’re exhausted. You’re bleeding. You’ll die from exposure if you risk this weather any longer. You may as well sit on my sword.”

  His sword…it remained sheathed at his hip…my salvation.

  I forced my trembling limbs to work and climbed to the other side, where the Mimetidae male’s boots had dug furrows into the ground. Careful of his legs, I had to stomp his arm and keep pressure on it as I worked the weapon free of its hilt. Scrambling back out of his reach, I tested the weight of the sword, the second I’d held in as many days, and deliberated over my options.

  I had only one if I wanted time enough to reach the city, reach Rhys, in safety.

  My grip was so tight my fingers went numb. I shut my eyes and spoke a prayer.

  Climbing over the tree a final time, I stood just outside of his reach and lifted his sword. I pictured Rhys. If only I had his strength and his skill…if only I had him here, if only I’d listened.

  Muscles in my arms trembled and burned as I accepted my role as executioner.

  My eyes closed.

  “Lower the sword.”

  I peered into the forest but
saw no one. Heady relief threatened to crack me. “Rhys?”

  “Give it to me,” he coaxed by my ear.

  Heat sizzled between us, left me sagging against him, limp and his to command. When he reached around to disarm me, he brushed the dagger, no doubt frozen in place now. Though I’d thought I was numb, I felt that excruciating touch. Tensing my jaw, I caged the raw scream I refused to gift the male at my feet, but a pained whimper escaped through my cracked lips.

  “For all that is merciful.” He’d felt it.

  “It hurts.” It was a stupid thing to say, as though a blade stuck in my side should feel any other way.

  “Gods be damned,” he growled. His warmth left me, and my teeth began chattering. He spun on the male who’d ceased his struggles beneath the tree. “You did this to her.” A ripe curse fell from his mouth as the male acknowledged what he’d done without remorse. Rhys lifted his arm and curled his fingers in a silent signal. His men bled without a sound from the shadows.

  Brackets lined Rhys’s mouth and aged him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, again stupidly.

  He ignored me in favor of addressing the pinned male. “Trefor, you were warned. Yet you still allowed your flesh addiction to thrive, heedless of the repercussions.” He glanced up, meeting the gazes of his rapt warriors. “Let this serve as a warning to you all. We consume our enemies’ flesh after battle to gain their strength.” He snarled. “We do not kill for sport. Nor do we allow flesh hunger to drive us. When we partake of an enemy, we are asking the two gods for their blessing. Ceremonial offerings are meant to please the gods, not to nourish our bodies.”

  “Rhys—” The fury banked in his gaze stole my voice.

  He continued on as if I hadn’t interrupted him. “Lourdes is mine. A hand raised against her is a challenge leveled against me.” His sight lowered. “Trefor, your addiction bested you.” He lifted the sword he’d taken from me. “You are not the male I once knew.” His voice rang clear. “Punishment for addiction is death. I showed this warrior leniency to the detriment of my female.” He swung the sword, and Trefor’s head tumbled clear from his neck. “It’s not a mistake I will make again.”

  I scrubbed my palms against my coat. I’d thought myself ready to end another life, and while in the heat of Trefor’s pursuit, I would have. His life in exchange for mine, I accepted. What I’d done to Rhys, though…the way his eyes emptied on the blade’s downward swing…

  After wiping the sword clean, he passed it to one of his men and advanced on me. Before his clan, here in the wintry forest, while a body cooled at our feet, I sensed his need to mark me, claim me as his. I steeled my spine, ready for punishment. I deserved no less than his worst for what I’d done.

  His large palms landed with such force upon my shoulders, my knees buckled beneath the weight of them. Leaning in close, I trembled as anise on his breath filled me with his scent. Lips I knew to be soft were ice hard now. His voice lowered. “This is going to hurt.”

  His fangs grazed my throat before he bit down, and my skin punctured on a crisp pop. I cried out as my eyes watered. This was no gentle claiming. This hurt. Rhys’s venom was fire in my veins, his poison a brand that threatened to render me to soot beneath his ravaging mouth.

  When at last he withdrew, he pressed a chaste kiss to the stinging wound. With a grim smile, he opened his palm, and Trefor’s dagger lay there.

  “What a clever male you are,” I said as my eyes rolled back, and the fear etching his handsome face faded to black behind my eyelids.

  Chapter 5

  Mumbled voices pried me from sleep, but delicious lethargy weighted my limbs. Curling against the noise, I ignored Pascale’s weak attempt at rousing me and nestled beneath my covers.

  Pascale. I bolted upright, head spinning and cotton-mouthed. Tossing the covers aside, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My attempt at sitting met with a chorus of male groans.

  “For gods’ sake.” Armand shielded his eyes. “Pull up your covers.”

  My hands flew to conceal my chest as three sets of masculine eyes either tried not to notice I was naked again, or drank in the sight of my nudity with such obvious appreciation I cringed.

  Henri muttered, “I could have lived the whole of my life without seeing that.”

  “On the contrary,” Vaughn said on a dark laugh, “I find the view much improved.”

  Humiliation paralyzed me. I may as well have sat upon a pedestal, for I was on display.

  “Lourdes.” A growl from behind me hurled my name as a curse as Rhys wrapped me up to my chin in a quilt. Able to drop my hands, I hid behind the barrier he’d erected around me and willed my embarrassment to ebb. Given the fact even my toes burned with shame, it was wasted effort.

  Under the fabric, I pinched myself, earning odd looks from my spectators when I jumped. So much for the hope this was a dream. Folding my arms to my sides, I brushed something soft. It dribbled past my hip when I poked it. Was it cloth? Why…

  Mortification had made me forget.

  I’d snuck out. I remembered now, the woods and Trefor’s chase, his dagger buried in my side. Fabric, then, dampened with healing herbs. Forcing my hand down, I kept from picking at the wound. Other than a slight tightening of the skin, I didn’t hurt. I felt better than expected.

  As if reading my thoughts, Henri asked, “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.” All things considered, I was grateful to be alive. “Do I have stitches?”

  “You were fortunate. It was only a scratch. I’m worried more about infection from what might have been on the blade than your cut. You can wash the poultice off tonight.” He gave Rhys a sour look. “I’d like to inspect it tomorrow. She’ll need a fresh poultice then.”

  “Only a scratch?” My hand lifted, but I forced it from the wound before touching it. “No, Trefor stabbed me. His dagger pierced my side.” I spun toward Rhys. “You saw it. You’re the one who removed it.” When he didn’t speak, I urged him on. “Tell them I didn’t imagine it.”

  “You were half frozen and being chased by a—” He bit off whatever word he would have used. “The cold intensifies sensations. Fear does the same.” He found his empty hands of sudden interest. “You must have imagined the blade did more damage than it did.” His cold stare rose to pin Vaughn’s smirk in place. “That you survived is a testament to your skill. Be proud of that.”

  While his praise spread warmth through my chest, my mind swam with doubt. Yes, the cold’s pain was absolute. Yes, it punished any who faced it unprepared, but the dagger had impaled me. Blushing again, I admitted it was less how the blade had entered and more how it had been removed that rang of a true memory. Rhys’s lips on me I recalled with perfect clarity.

  Meeting Armand’s frown, I noted someone had kicked a mound of bloodied clothing against the far wall. Henri’s ruined jacket topped the pile. “It seems my scratch bled freely.”

  “Rhys and his guards encountered a pocket of Theridiidae holed up in one of the summer spinning rooms. The blood on your clothes came from them.” Armand folded his arms, but his fingers twitched. “It could have been you that met them. I should never have allowed you to go.”

  I counted backwards from my age to Channing’s before I answered. “I am the Araneidae maven. You are my brother, whose opinion I value, but I don’t require your permission.” I added softly, “If you think me unfit, challenge me and have it done. Otherwise, ready yourself. I plan to follow in Mother’s footsteps, and I will fulfill my role as maven of our clan, but I will also honor the plans Father and I made. I will not leave our people vulnerable to such treachery again.”

  Rhys caught my eye as he brushed past Henri and headed for Armand.

  “You knew what she planned.” His voice lowered. “Yet you allowed her to leave?”

  My brother kept his ground. “When Lourdes sets her mind to doing something, nothing can dissuade her. You’ll learn soon enough.” He indicated me with a jerk of his chin. “As she said, she’s my maven. I c
an’t overrule her without a proper challenge.”

  At that, Rhys cracked a wry smile. “You’re wiser than you look.”

  “Thanks.” Armand’s voice went flat.

  “What does he mean?” I glanced between them.

  “If he challenges you,” Rhys said, including Henri in his statement, “he faces me.”

  “Oh.” I suppose that was the benefit of being bound to Rhys. His sword arm was mine to command, but I hadn’t intended he take a swing at Armand. “He won’t challenge me. Will you?”

  Armand shook his head. “I have no aspirations for her title. I promise you that.” He nodded toward me. “She has my fealty.” He added, “I don’t envy you the task of reining her in.”

  “I can hear you.” I unclenched my jaw. “No male is reining me in.”

  “She is a spirited one.” Vaughn caught his bottom lip between his teeth.

  “I’m bound to your brother.” I stabbed the air in his direction. “Rhys is my partisan, and seeing as how I don’t believe in playing musical bedmates, you’ll have to find some other female to ply with your…” I waved a hand, “…charms or whatever you call what you’re doing. I didn’t like your rude implications yesterday, I don’t like the boldness of your tone today, and I won’t prefer you to Rhys tomorrow. Ask Armand. He’ll tell you my mind is unchangeable.”

  “It is,” my brothers chimed in as one.

  Vaughn’s eyes sparked with challenge of a different sort. One I hadn’t meant to issue.

  “As I said.” His teeth flashed in a sharp smile. “Spirited.”

  Stalking from my brother to his own, Rhys balled his knuckles tighter with each step. This would not end well. I inched closer to the edge of the bed. “Rhys?” His boots stopped just shy of Vaughn’s. He canted his head in my direction, waiting for me. “You never said what you found.”