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“I demand a blood rite,” Samia hissed. She licked her lip and a satisfied smile curved them upward. Vivienne’s brows lifted in confusion. All she’d heard was “blood” and “rite.” What was she talking about now?
“No.” It was Conall who spoke and Vivienne looked to her side to find him there. When had he moved?
Samia glared at him and then at Vivienne. “She drew first blood.”
Vivienne’s brows crinkled. What was a blood rite? Was this some sort of cult?
“She’s not like us. Blood rites don’t apply.”
Samia shrugged and spun away from Conall, turning to face the crowd of people, which had only grown larger.
“I demand a blood rite!” Samia’s voice was loud and angry.
Conall stepped in front of her.
Blood rite, Vivienne thought in confusion. What is wrong with this community? People with no jobs demanding things like “blood rites?” She’d always known the rich did things differently, but this was extreme.
“And I said no!”
Vivienne, blocked by the breadth of Conall, could only hear Samia’s derisive laugh. She tried to step around him but it was almost as if the man was in her head, stepping to the left or right when she did, effectively hiding her.
“It’s the law, Conall! Even you’re not above the law!”
“She’s not one of us. Our laws don’t apply to her.”
“But they apply to you and she is yours,” Samia retorted coyly. “Isn’t she yours, Conall?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, Raoul and Sloan suddenly flanked her. She looked up at both of them but they were staring at Samia, their expressions grim.
What the hell was happening?
Conall suddenly took a step to Samia, and she heard a sharp intake of breath from either Sloan or Raoul. She couldn’t pinpoint who.
His voice was low as he said, “Yes, she is mine, and I always protect what is mine. You would do well to remember that.”
Samia sputtered as Conall abruptly dismissed her and turned to face Vivienne. His hand was suddenly around her waist as he half-dragged her back to the SUV. Confused, she looked back to see Sloan and Raoul facing an angry Samia. The crowd was moving closer to the three of them, as if curious to know what would happen.
“Conall—?”
“Not now.” His tone was final.
As they drove down the curved street out of Cedar Creek, Vivienne was almost certain the man who’d awakened such hungers in her last night belonged to some sadistic cult.
***
Conall was so angry that for the first fifteen minutes, he couldn’t speak. Every time he’d open his lips, either a growl or some kind of snarl would come out. So he concentrated on the road, on the asphalt, the little white lines, the broken yellow lines—that bitch!
Samia had goaded Vivienne into striking her, had probably bitten her lip on purpose, and then called for a blood rite. Among their people, a blood rite was a call for vengeance given to a werewolf wronged by another. It was given its name because the wrong-doer usually drew first blood in some devious way, and the collector wanted his blood as payment. It was a bloody battle, hence the name, with both parties nursing injuries, not fatal but painful, and a physician standing by to attend to both. Samia had called for the blood rite knowing she had the advantage and wanting to show she was the alpha bitch despite Vivienne’s recent stay in his bed. Samia was a were; Vivienne a human, or at very least, Conall thought so. He stole a glance at her as he remembered the chanting he’d heard in her head and how she’d responded to his beast.
In ten minutes, Samia would have either killed or badly mauled her. He shuddered at the thought and a snarl left his lips. He would not allow that to happen. Ever. Feeling his nails lengthen and his teeth sharpen, he forcefully tossed Samia from his mind. He would deal with her when he returned to Cedar Creek. Vivienne was his mate, and he’d kill anyone and anything that attempted to hurt her.
He finally calmed enough to focus on her. From the corner of his eye, he noticed she was clutching her bag tightly in her hands and pressed as far away from him as possible. He looked down to the bag, glad that Raoul had fetched it from the hotel that morning. He hadn’t focused on accessories when he’d hurriedly left the hotel. Her safety had been his priority.
Sighing, he reached out for her mind, and found himself barred from it! Confused, he tried again, blinking rapidly when he recognized she’d put up shields to keep him out. He pushed against one of them, testing its strength, and swiveled his head when he realized he couldn’t penetrate them. Not unless he wanted to hurt her. Only a sparse amount of humans were psychically strong enough to block their thoughts from powerful immortals, and he had a feeling Vivienne wasn’t even aware of what she was doing.
