Chapter 18

Lucian

I knew from the start that the Mate Ball would be too tempting a target for the Rogues to resist. I prepared for their infiltration without revealing my plans to anyone but Kieran. There was no one else I could trust. The guards obeyed, yes, but they could easily be convinced to stand aside to allow a Rogue challenger to attack.

I also knew that the other Alphas wanted me and my brother dead. They hadn't paid much attention to us when we reclaimed our birth pack. That was nothing special. Werewolves who survived as Rogues tried to get back what they lost all the time. We were just two of the rare ones who actually pulled it off.

But then we conquered a second pack, and a third. Then the other Alphas started to take notice. They watched us gain power and strength and they knew we were a threat. They realized we would not stop until we were forced to stop. And none of them were strong enough to do it.

So of course they would resort to trickery. They made bargains with the Rogues. They sent women to lure us to bed, to slit our throats in our sleep or maybe to slip poison into our food. Some of them were probably just there as spies, to let the attacking Rogues into the Ball.

I didn't care. I gathered up everyone of the women I knew were involved. They thought they would get a chance to charm me, but I took them directly to the dungeons and had them locked away. I'd sort them out once the Rogues were dealt with.

I'd never cared for women. I wasn't like my brother, who tried to calm his wolf in soft bodies. I would have my fated mate and none other. Although one thing this Mate Ball had shown me was that I might well not have a mate out there. But I would not give up. There was a woman out there who could contain mine and my brother's wolves, who could still the madness within us. I would find her.

First, though, I had to save the little idiot who worked as a surprisingly good palliative for the weakening wolf-bonds. Zara had been at the Ball, and out of all the guests, the lead Rogue decided to grab her. Because luck or the moon one hated us all.

The Rogue threatened Zara, holding a knife to her throat. I stood next to my brother, and kept my eyes on the main threat while Kieran looked side to side, watching for the other Rogues we knew had to be in the crowd waiting for their moment to attack.

I'd taken care of a couple Rogues on my way back into the ballroom. They had gotten out into the hall. Kieran assured me the rest were contained. We just had to deal with the hostage situation.

“I'll kill her,” the Rogue insisted.

I shrugged. I kept my face still and my posture loose and calm. Outwardly, I was ice.

Inside, I wanted to snap all their necks. I wanted to paint the walls in this Rogue's blood. It was strange. I killed because it was necessary to survive. I wasn't used to the bloodlust being this strong outside of immediate combat.

Zara stared at me as I told the Rogue to do what he wanted. I saw the hurt in her eyes. She believed my act if no one else did.

The Rogue looked uncomfortable as I continued to pace slowly forward. He knew she was his only leverage, and it wasn't working like he'd expected it to. He glanced down, and lightly sniffed at Zara's neck. He frowned. He was checking her identity.

Grabbing Zara hadn't been a random choice. The Rogue thought threatening her would give him leverage over us. I could never let that happen.

“Y-you need her for something,” the Rogue stammered. “You don't let her out of your sight!”

I shrugged. “My brother likes having a pet around. I indulge him. That's all.”

“I can get another pet,” Kieran added.

I saw Zara's shoulders slump, and her eyes flashed in rage. I tensed, ready for the Rogue to do something stupid as he realized his information wasn't accurate. He was sweating, beginning to panic.

I was stunned when Zara, instead of whimpering or trying to get us to save her, acted to save herself. She threw her weight back against the Rogue while somehow getting her hand up to grip the hilt of the knife. She twisted and threw the Rogue over her shoulder. The knife stayed in her hand, and the Rogue ended up on his back at my feet.

It was a cute trick and I wanted to ask her just where she learned that. I would, later. First I had to be sure she would be safe.

I jumped on the Rogue she'd thrown, and snapped his neck. No one touched what was mine. No one.

I turned to the crowd. Most of the guests that the guards hadn't gotten out were pressed against the wall. There were about a dozen Rogues standing around in a loose semi-circle. Did they really think that would be enough to take out both of us?

I let my wolf come forward enough to enhance my strength and sharpen my nails into talons and my teeth into fangs. I nodded at Kieran and flicked my hand to indicate which ones he could take. I wanted them all, but it was only fair to let him have his share. Zara was his, too.

We tore through the Rogues. I tore out throats and snapped necks. I saw Kieran slam a Rogue into the marble floor hard enough to shatter his skull. I lost track of the details after that, lost in the heat of bloodlust.

One of the Rogues tried to bargain with me. I paused at his words, barely holding on to control.

“There's a killer,” he panted, “in your pack.”

I held him up by his throat, debating the most efficient way to end him. I didn't care what nonsense he was blathering.

I was always surrounded by killers. That was life as a wolf. If there was one in my pack, so be it. I would root them out, or they would kill me. I wasn't bargaining with some Rogue for scraps of information.

I tore out his throat and turned to find that there was no one left to kill. The guests had fled. The guards stayed at the doors, hesitant to approach. Zara was curled against the edge of the dais, shivering.

“Clean up the bodies,” I ordered the guards.

I went over to Zara, trusting Kieran to handle the rest. He'd round up the guests, determine who needed to be questioned and who could be let go. I had other things to tend to.

I knelt over the girl. She shivered at my approach, frozen in obvious terror. Of course. She was barely twenty, and had never seen so much violence close up. She hadn't even been there when we challenged her father.

Zara whimpered as she stared up at me. I felt something strange twist in my gut. It took a moment to recognize the foreign feeling as pity. I felt sorry for her.

I reached out my hand and brushed her hair out of her face, leaving a streak of crimson across her pale cheek.

I tried to think of something, anything to say. I had no idea how to be comforting. I'd never tried before.

“Now, you know what you need to do,” I said, “Be a good girl.”