“The wolves warned us that someone was hunting. Did you think the Carpathians were going to roll over and just let you kill their women?”
“Stop saying women. I wasn’t going to kill a woman. She was targeted because she . . .” He trailed off, looking confused.
“She saved the man she loved from death by silver. He was tortured. I saw him. The council didn’t pass sentence on him; in fact,” Zev stated, “the order was to keep him safe while they tried to reach an agreement with the Carpathians on the Sange rau.”
Damon scowled. “That’s right. The prisoner . . .”
“Dimitri,” Zev corrected. “He’s a good man, call him by his name.”
“Dimitri is Sange rau. He’s a bad blood, a mixed blood, fully capable of wiping out our entire species.”
“He’s not Sange rau, any more than I am. He’s Hän ku pesäk kaikak, which, in case you’re actually interested, is guardian of all. He protects all of us, Lycan, human and Carpathian alike. He saved Gunnolf and Convel, both of them, and to repay him they went against the council’s orders and convinced everyone that he had been sentenced to death by silver. Had Skyler not come for him, he’d be dead and we’d be at war with the Carpathians. If anything, the Lycans owe that girl a debt of gratitude.”
Zev couldn’t quite keep the note of anger out of his voice. He was furious with Damon. Lycans didn’t behave this way. They had a code of honor they lived by—he had lived by it. So had Damon.
“Tell me again who told you I was dead.”
Damon rubbed his temples. “I don’t know. I was at a meeting. A service. I was worried about Daciana. There had been trouble in the forest at the summer cabins. I couldn’t get ahold of her and I thought I’d try to get some news. You know all that talk they do bores the hell out of me.”
“They?” Zev prompted. Overhead the storm clouds sizzled with whips of lightning. Thunder boomed, shaking the ground. Branka, that’s too close, pull in your power a little bit, he cautioned. She was going to light up the entire forest if she wasn’t careful.
I’ve got this, Branislava said. No worries.
Zev sighed. When a woman said not to worry, that was clearly the best time to be worried.
Damon scowled again, trying to recall who the speaker was. “He’s there at the meetings all the time with Arno and Lupo. They give motivational speeches all the time. He’s in Lupo’s pack. Why can’t I remember his name?”
Lupo Wolfe was one of the oldest council members who had been locked away to protect the existing council should any of the traveling members be lost.
Zev noted that Damon pressed his fingers to his temples again. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. My head feels like it’s splitting in two.”
“Don’t think about this anymore,” Zev suggested, suddenly suspicious. There was a hint of blood, just a small trickle near Damon’s nose. “Let’s go find your sister. She can fill you in on what’s happening. It will be good to have you around while we try to sort things out. We need help protecting the council members from our own kind. We don’t know who the enemy actually is.”
Lightning zigzagged through the trees, a giant whip, lashing through the forest like a cat-o’-nine-tails. He caught Damon and threw him to the ground just as one of the switches snapped over their heads.
Soft laughter rippled through his mind, almost a giggle, a sound Zev had never heard Branislava make. Whoops. Sorry. Lightning whips are difficult to wield, aren’t they?
That sound wrapped around his heart and squeezed tight. Get that under control. Dial it down. You’ve got way too much power and you’re going to hurt yourself.
He didn’t want to admit to her that he’d never actually tried controlling lightning. He’d seen both Fen and Dimitri call down the lightning, but he was Lycan. He didn’t call it down. He could see how it would be useful, but not in the hands of an overly enthusiastic woman.
Damon slammed him down as another sizzling streak of white-hot fire snapped over their heads, coming a little too close for comfort. Every hair on his body stood up.
Zev burst out laughing. Woman! What are you trying to do?
“This is some crazy storm,” Damon said.
“More like a crazy woman,” Zev countered, and pushed himself up. “Get your weapons and let’s get out of here.” If you’re finished playing . . .
She came out of the trees, walking toward him, her long hair swept back in a braid that trailed down her back. The silken mass was fiery red. Her eyes shone like emeralds and she had a huge smile on her face. In her hands she spun fire, the flames streaking through the air in loops around her as she danced.
She looked exotic, stealing his breath with her beauty. The double rings of fire looped around her body and then rose as she wielded the whips, spinning them around her and then back to either side. The whips were golden in color, the flames crossing her body, sweeping under her feet as she leapt gracefully into the air and then rose above her as she came back to earth.
Zev’s breath caught in his throat. Beside him, Damon’s jaw dropped. Branislava’s soft laugh of pure joy was contagious and both of them smiled at her.
The flaming whips changed color, going fiery red and orange as she made intricate patterns in the night, all the while her body moving to some melody only she could hear.
Zev glanced at the rapt expression on Damon’s face and growled low, his gut tightening into knots. “Pick up your jaw and stop staring at her like you’re going to eat her up. She belongs to me.”
“You’re kidding,” Damon answered before he could censor his shock. “Sorry, she’s just so sexy.”
Zev cuffed him again, this time hard enough to send him forward, sprawling on the forest floor. “You don’t need to think she’s sexy.”
“I don’t think it,” Damon glared at him from the ground, unable to tear his eyes from the fire dance. “I know it. No wonder you kept coming back here.”
Zev sighed. He couldn’t very well fault Damon for having eyes, but his wolf was definitely reacting all over again. He had to find some kind of balance. It helped that, as Branislava spun and danced, she looked only at him—danced only for him.
He could see that she felt free and young and happy, something she’d never been able to do. Clearly dancing was going to be a passion of hers. Her skin glowed as if the fire inside her burned passionately. He didn’t want the moment to end for her. She’d had so little happiness or fun in her life, and playing with lightning whips gave her such joy. Damon thought the whips were poi, two chains with the globes for fuel attached to either end.