Dark Lycan (Dark #24)(57)
Author: Christine Feehan

The Sange rau suddenly changed direction as if he’d been summoned. Dimitri’s pulse jumped. Fen? You okay? Bardolf is headed your way fast.

Can you stop him? Slow him down?

His brother sounded the same way he always sounded. Matter-of-fact. But Dimitri touched his mind for a moment. There was pain. Exhaustion. Blood loss. No problem. I’m on it now.

Dimitri studied the trajectory of the wolf/vampire hurtling recklessly toward his master. In his hurry to obey, Bardolf forgot the cat and mouse game they’d been playing, dismissing Dimitri as of little consequence. After all, Dimitri hadn’t actually engaged in a fight with him.

Dimitri used the storm he’d built. Superheating a pocket of air was easy enough. Placing it exactly where Bardolf would choose to fly was the much more difficult part, but Dimitri had spent lifetimes running with the wolves. The real thing. He’d spent time with his brother, who had become Lycan.

Bardolf thought as a wolf first. He was comfortable in that skin. He was familiar with it and seemed to hesitate before he used the gifts his vampire blood gave him. Dimitri thought like a wolf as well. He’d run with them for centuries and studied their behavior. Bardolf was comfortable with a pack. He fought in a pack. Fighting alone was completely foreign to him.

His master had only perpetuated that weakness in order to keep the wolf from wanting to usurp his leader. Bardolf would go straight to his alpha, taking the fastest line of flight to obey. Dimitri chose a spot just ahead of the wolf/vampire and built the searing heat. Bardolf burst into the small section and screamed as the scalding heat burned his skin.

Bardolf backpedaled, desperate to get away from the heat burning right through him. Dimitri blasted out of the sky behind him, driving straight for him. The force of the two coming together at such a speed helped drive the stake deep into Bardolf’s back. Dimitri knew immediately he’d missed the heart. Something must have warned the Sange rau because at the last moment, he turned slightly, just enough to throw off Dimitri’s aim.

Bardolf spun, claws whipping across Dimitri’s face, knocking him back so that he tumbled. Before he could shift, Bardolf was on him, ripping at his belly, pushing the silver stake from his body and catching it in his palm, reversing and throwing it hard at Dimitri.

Dimitri twisted hard, trying to present the smallest target possible. The stake entered his shoulder high. The force of Bardolf’s throw drove it straight through so that the shaft left a large hole behind. Bardolf immediately pursued the injured Carpathian, following up on his advantage. Dimitri had suspected all along that he was close to becoming the Sange rau, and the terrible, relentless burn of the silver confirmed it for him.

Get out of there! Fen called out urgently, seeing his brother falling out of the sky, a spray of blood surrounding him and the Sange rau streaking toward him.

Fen had thrown Abel out of the tunnel and into the meadow where he knew the traps Gregori had prepared for a vampire were waiting. He was counting on the sun, but the storm overhead kept the harmful rays from reaching Abel. He had a choice-follow up on his advantage-or to go the aid of his brother. He was protecting the prince and that had to be his first priority . . .

He drove both feet hard into Abel’s face, smashing the crystals deeper into the skin. Abel fell back into a fine net of silver. Fen launched himself skyward, intercepting Bardolf before the Sange rau could get to his brother.

Fen was faster and much more skilled. He’d been Sange rau for centuries, long before Bardolf had been, and he’d been an ancient Carpathian hunter. The wolf wasn’t comfortable in the sky, in the midst of a violent storm, but Fen was right at home. And he was protecting his brother. More, he felt aggressive toward Bardolf, enraged even that he’d dared to try to kill Dimitri. That emotion had never once been with him in battle.

He hit Bardolf hard, slamming him down with air pressure as well as physical force. Bardolf hit the ground and rolled, trying to get to his feet as Fen dropped on top of him.

Dimitri, get out of here now. You need blood fast. His tone brooked no argument. In any case, Dimitri had a lifemate. He wouldn’t throw his life away, and anyway, he was too wounded to help.

Fen drove a stake deep into Bardolf’s body as he landed on him, straddling him, pinning him down. Still, Bardolf’s immense strength as both wolf and vampire came into play, allowing him to once again avoid the stake to the heart. He was bleeding in dozens of places, but he still squirmed away from the deadly silver stake.

He shifted, falling back on his wolf, tearing at Fen’s body, biting hard on his thigh, nearly going to bone, refusing to let go, pulling at the flesh and sinew, determined to get to the artery. Cursing, Fen had no choice but to let him go. Bardolf immediately shifted again, taking to the air, streaking like a comet away from the battleground, self-preservation uppermost in his mind. He abandoned his master, running for his life, leaving behind a trail of blood in the sky.

Fen had to choose to follow him or go back to stop Abel. Every cell in his body wanted to follow Bardolf for daring to put a hand on his brother, but honor and duty demanded he protect the prince. With another snarl and curse, he streaked back to the tunnel. He could see the blood where Dimitri had chosen to go inside. He could get blood from Vikirnoff and Mikhail and yet still help to defend the prince. That was his brother. Always choosing the right path in spite of the danger to himself.

Dimitri paused as he swept past Abel. If he had been one hundred percent he would have tried to engage with the Sange rau, but he had lost too much blood and the silver netting clearly wasn’t going to hold Abel for much longer. Fen would have to take care of him. The best Dimitri could do to aid his brother was to clear the storm so the sun could break through and help to guard the prince.

He sent word ahead that he was coming in fast and would need blood. He didn’t want to get caught in any of the traps set for vampires as he rushed down the tunnel to the back of the cavern. Mikhail had the safeguards down and immediately he offered his wrist. Dimitri didn’t hesitate. Mikhail’s blood was powerful and would aid in healing him.

Both Vikirnoff and Natalya began attending his wounds, trying to stop the flow of precious blood. He hadn’t realized just how many deep lacerations Bardolf had managed to inflict in the few brief encounters when they came together.

"You’re a little crazy," Vikirnoff told him. "You know that, don’t you?"

"He’s coming," Mikhail announced.

Dimitri nearly stopped taking blood, but Mikhail indicated to continue. "We need you as strong as possible."

Dimitri politely took a little more blood and then closed the wound on the prince’s wrist. He watched Abel approach. The vampire looked terrible. Bloody crystal covered his face, producing a grotesque mask. His eyes looked black, surrounded by flaming red rather than white. He was covered in blood. Veins stood out starkly on exposed skin. The netting strands, as fine as they were, had been burned into his skin so that he was crisscrossed in raised welts.