The bedroom felt heavy with the growing psychic storm. He stepped into the room and braced himself.
Jaenelle paced frantically, her hands gripping her upper arms tight enough to bruise. She glanced at him and bared her teeth. Her eyes held revulsion and no recognition. "Get out."
Relief swept through him. Every second she resisted the desire to attack a male increased his chances of surviving the next few days.
"Pack a bag," Lucivar said. "Casual clothes. A warm jacket for evenings. Walking boots."
"I'm not going anywhere," Jaenelle snarled.
"We're going hunting."
"No. Get out."
Lucivar braced his hands on his hips. "You can pack a bag or not, but we're going hunting. Now."
"I don't want to go anywhere with you."
He heard the desperation and fear in her voice. Desperation because she didn't want to leave the safety of this room. Fear because he was pushing her and, cornered, she might strike back and hurt him.
It gave him hope.
"You can leave this room on your own two feet or over my shoulder. Your choice, Cat."
She grabbed a pillow and shredded it, swearing viciously in several languages. When his only response was to step toward her, she scrambled away from him, putting the bed between them.
He wondered if she saw the irony of it.
"You're running out of time, Cat," he said softly.
She grabbed another pillow and threw it at him. "Bastard!"
"Prick," he corrected. He started around the bed.
She ran for the dressing room door.
He got there ahead of her, his spread wings making him look huge.
She backed away from him.
Saetan stepped into the bedroom. "Go with him, witch-child."
Trapped between father and brother, she stood there, shaking.
"We'll get away from everyone," Lucivar coaxed. "Just the two of us. Lots of fresh air and open ground."
The thoughts flashed through her eyes, over her face. Open ground. Room to maneuver. Room to run. Open
ground, where she wouldn't be trapped in a room with all this maleness pulling at her, choking her.
"You won't touch me." Not a question or a demand. A plea.
"I won't touch you," Lucivar promised.
Jaenelle's shoulders slumped. "All right. I'll pack."
He folded his wings and stepped aside so that she could slip into the dressing room. The defeat in her voice made him want to weep.
Saetan joined him. "Be careful, Lucivar," he said quietly.
Lucivar nodded. He already felt tired. "It'll be better in the open, out on the land."
"Experience?"
"Yeah. We'll stop at the cabin first to pick up the sleeping bags and other gear. Ask Smoke to join us. I think she'll be able to tolerate him. And if anything goes wrong, he can send word."
Saetan didn't need to ask what could go wrong. They both knew what a Black-Jeweled Black Widow Queen could do to a man.
Saetan ran his hands over Lucivar's shoulders. He kissed his son's cheek. "May the Darkness embrace you," he said hoarsely, turning away. Lucivar pulled Saetan into a hard hug.
"Be careful, Lucivar. I don't want anything to happen to you now that you're finally here. And Idon't want you with me in Hell."
Lucivar leaned back and smiled his lazy, arrogant smile. "I promise to stay out of trouble, Father."
Saetan snorted. "You mean it as much now as you did when you were little," he said dryly.
"Maybe even less."
Left alone while Jaenelle finished packing, Lucivar wondered if he was doing the right thing. He already mourned the game they would hunt, the animals who would die so savagely. If the four-legged bloodletting wasn't enough, she would turn on him. He expected her to. When she did, Saetan wouldn't find his son waiting for him in the Dark Realm. There wouldn't be anything left of him to wait.
4 / Kaeleer
"The Dark Council is quite distressed over the whole matter." Lord Magstrom shifted uneasily in his chair.
Saetan held his temper through sheer force of will. The man sitting on the other side of his blackwood desk had done nothing to deserve his rage. "The Council isn't alone in its distress."
"Yes, of course. But for Lady Angelline to . . ." Magstrom faltered.
"Among the Blood, rape is punishable by execution. At least it is in the rest of Kaeleer," Saetan said too softly.
"It's punishable by execution in Little Terreille as well," Magstrom replied stiffly.
"Then the little bastard got what he deserved."
"But. . . they were newly married," Magstrom protested.
"Even if that were true, which I doubt despite the damn signatures, a marriage contract doesn't excuse rape. Drugging a woman so that she's incapable of refusing doesn't mean she's agreed to anything. I'd say Jaenelle expressed her refusal quite eloquently, wouldn't you?" Saetan steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. "I've analyzed the two 'harmless substances' Jaenelle was given. Being a Black Widow, I have the training to reproduce them. If you choose to insist they had nothing to do with Jaenelle's behavior, why don't I make up another batch? We can test them on your granddaughter. She's Jaenelle's age."
Clutching the arms of the chair, Lord Magstrom said nothing.
Saetan rounded the desk and poured two glasses of brandy. Handing one to Lord Magstrom, he rested his hip on the corner of his desk. "Relax. I wouldn't do that to a child. Besides," he added quietly, "I may lose two of my children within the next few days. I wouldn't wish that on another man."
"Two?"
Saetan looked away from the concern and sympathy in Magstrom's eyes. "The first brew they gave Jaenelle inhibits will. She would have said what she'd been told to say, done what she'd been told to do. Unfortunately, that particular brew also has the side effect of magnifying emotional distress. A large dose ofsafframate and a forced sexual encounter were just the kind of stimulants that would have pushed her to the killing edge. And she'll remain on the killing edge until the drugs totally wear off."
Magstrom sipped his brandy. "Will she recover?"
"I don't know. If the Darkness is merciful, she will." Saetan clenched his teeth. "Lucivar took her to Askavi to spend some time with the land, away from people."
"Does he know about these violent tendencies?"
"He knows."
Magstrom hesitated. "You don't expect him to return, do you?"
"No. Neither does he. And I don't know what that will do to her."
"I like him," Magstrom said. "He has a rough kind of charm."