Zev managed a smile. He scented a woman on Darius, and knew instinctively he had a lifemate. He breathed away the itch that seemed to come and go over his skin. “It’s good to meet you, too.” He’d definitely been awakened too early. His wound throbbed and pulsed with pain. No matter how hard he tried to push it away, the pain pushed back.
Zacarias De La Cruz, his brother Manolito and the newcomer Luiz joined them. Luiz was built like a Jaguar, compact with ropy muscles and a fluidity when he walked that couldn’t be mistaken. Manolito was like Fen, Dimitri and Zev, a mixed blood.
Zacarias looked Zev over, bowed to Branislava without saying a word to her.
See, now that’s courtly. Gary might be able to learn a few things from the man.
Branislava’s soft laughter moved through his mind, but she didn’t reply.
Zev, hurry through the introductions, you’re looking like you might drop dead all over again, Fen warned.
Zev nodded at Luiz, gritting his teeth. He felt like he might drop dead as well, but that was impossible now. Two unattached males were very close to Branislava, and both were looking at her as if they might engage her in conversation at any moment. And just why the hell would that be so wrong? What had gotten into him? Joints and muscles ached. His skin itched. His jaw felt as if it might shatter, and he clenched his teeth trying to breathe away the need to change. His wolf prowled closer than ever to the surface.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Luiz said. “I’ve heard of you, of course.”
Zev tried to reply, but Luiz’s gaze kept straying to Branislava, and if he shook hands or attempted speech, all they would get was his wolf.
As if he knew there was a problem, Zacarias glided smoothly between Luiz and Zev. He didn’t posture, but he was definitely a threat. Instead of backing down, the alpha wolf rose with a snarling challenge Zev could barely suppress.
Why is your wolf so close? Dimitri asked. I can feel that you’re fighting him. He stepped closer to Zev, moving in on his other side protectively.
I don’t know, but he wants out and he’s looking for a fight.
Zev. Gregori reached for both Dimitri and Fen as well, as they were now tied to Zev. He knew all three could hear. Your eyes have changed color and you’re giving off a very dangerous scent. Should I remove the prince?
Zev breathed hard to try to stay in control of the wolf raging to get out. He saw in images of heat, colors banding and shimmering. He pinpointed the hearts of every single person in the room. He heard them, loud and strong, calling to him.
Gregori, Zev is severely wounded, Fen reminded. He can barely stand.
He’s dangerous, one of the most lethal men I’ve ever met, and there’s no quit in him. He’ll fight until he’s dead. And he’ll take as many with him as he can.
Zev wished he could reassure them all, but he wasn’t certain anything more than a growl or snarl would come out of his mouth. He concentrated on trying to breathe, but it seemed as if every breath he drew contained fire so that his lungs burned, adding to the need to change. He kept his head down, knowing if Gregori and Zacarias could see the wolf rising, the other warriors in close proximity could as well.
Branislava moved closer to him, almost protectively, sliding under his shoulder. That small movement seemed to appease his wolf enough for him to breathe. Unfortunately, that small movement on her part instantly drew the attention of the men around them, including that of Luiz, who couldn’t seem to stop staring at her. A low warning growl escaped before he could stop it.
Mikhail looked at him and then at Branislava speculatively.
Get me out of this situation now, Fen. I don’t know what’s wrong, but if that man keeps looking at her that way, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from attacking. Admitting to that weakness when he knew Branislava could hear was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done.
Fen didn’t hesitate. “Zev needs to rest now. He’s been awakened far too early out of necessity,” he announced. “I hate to cut introductions short, but he needs to leave now.” He indicated Zev’s shirt.
Zev followed his gaze to the crimson stain spreading wider over the white material. He covered it with his hand. His palm came away coated with blood.
Mikhail nodded and stepped aside. Fen led the way to the outside of the chamber, with Dimitri close behind Zev and Branislava.
The moment they were out of sight of the others, Fen halted. “I’m going to take you out of here, Zev. You can’t walk the distance and you can’t shift right now.” He indicated the blood. “That’s genuine. I didn’t put it there. Your wolf came too close to the surface and your body won’t stand up to the change yet.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on? What’s happening to me?” Zev demanded. He’d had enough of intrigue and his own strange behavior.
Let them get you home, Branislava said. I can attend your wound.
I need to know what’s going on. He tried not to snarl the demand, but it came out that way despite his best effort.
I need to heal your wound. She didn’t flinch in the face of the wolf. She used her soft, melodic voice that could bring any man to his knees. Even his wolf seemed to respond, subsiding enough that he could do as she asked.
He swore under his breath, but he nodded to Fen. Fen didn’t wait to see if he’d change his mind. He caught up Zev and took him through the caves, going through the lower and upper chambers with astonishing speed. The caverns leading down to the sacred chamber were really miles of maze, a true labyrinth, but Zev knew instinctively that he could find his way back in spite of the rapid ascent.
The velocity wrenched at his body, but he didn’t protest, wanting to get answers as soon as possible. They burst out of an opening between rocks that looked like no more than a mere crack when he looked back. Branislava, with Dimitri right behind her, emerged after them.
Which direction, Zev? Fen asked.
Take me to the house in the forest. He needed the familiarity of the trees and open air. He was Lycan and the forest would always be his first choice.
The terrible need to change, that snarling, raging wolf, had retreated, but the aftertaste was a blow to his pride. He’d nearly lost control in front of everyone—and he was a master of control. Not once in all his long years had he ever come that close. He knew he was a dangerous man. He was Lycan, born to a time when they still hunted prey. He had managed to overcome that hunger. He was able to fight without a pack. He negotiated peace among packs. To lose control was appalling, almost beyond his comprehension.