Chapter Fourteen
On his horse, Benic followed Ahote. The shifter hadn’t been happy about stopping at his castle first until he’d offered Ahote provisions. Dried meat was the way to any hunter’s heart. Benic had needed to inform his chamberlain that he’d be going on a few days’ journey.
Ahote carried a pack on his back with spare clothes and the food Benic had provided. The shifter presently raced in feral form in great loping strides. His midnight fur was Inacio’s wet dream.
Benic sighed. His incubus had thrown the fit of all fits when he told him he couldn’t come. Inacio was great for parties and shopping, but not on a slaver hunt. The poor thing had had his share of suffering at slaver hands. Benic wouldn’t even discuss the situation with him and bring back sore memories. When he returned and had time to woo Inacio with mulled wine and fine dragon silks, he would explain why he’d left him behind.
They’d departed the forest the previous evening and were now crossing the grasslands between his home and New Berg. It had been well over a day since Kele had been taken.
“Is their scent still strong?” Benic gripped the pommel of his sword.
“Like a blazing path. They weren’t trying to hide their passing whatsoever,” Ahote shouted over his shoulder. “I guess they weren’t worried about your retaliation.”
He ground his teeth and almost chipped a fang. The last thing he wanted to do was agree with this specific male. The slavers had grown bold and he’d grown lazy.
Ahote stopped in a clearing of crushed vegetation. His nose to the ground, he circled around the area.
Benic dismounted his horse well before the clearing. The animal tolerated Ahote but that was as far as their relationship would go. Pacing the old campground, he noted fire pits. He knelt next to one of them and touched the cold coals. “They’ve been gone awhile.” Something sparkled in the sunlight a few inches from his feet. He ran his fingers through the grass until they hit a solid metallic object. He pulled out the ruby pendant he’d given Kele. He covered his mouth and sensed the blood draining from his face. One of the slavers must have dropped it there by the fireside. She’d worn it to her mating ceremony.
She’d been thinking of him after all.
He pocketed the jewelry and closed his eyes for a moment. I am coming Kele. Stay strong.
“I smell Payami mingled with other shifters.” He snuffled a specific spot. “Here. Kele was lying here, and I’m pretty sure Peder’s scent is next to hers.”
Benic’s heart warred with itself. She lived but in another’s arms. Fuck.
“I smell blood.” Ahote tracked back and forth over the area. “Just traces here, but it grows stronger this way.” He took off at a run, nose to the ground.
Benic tried to keep pace but he couldn’t compete with four legs.
A howl split the air and he drew his sword, ready to decapitate any who attacked. With his weapon held at the ready, he crested the hill and stumbled to a stop. He rested his sword tip on the ground and caught his breath.
Ahote hovered over the dead body of a young, pretty female.
“Do you know her?”
He shook his big furry head. “No, she doesn’t smell like any pack I know.” He traced obvious puncture wounds on her neck and wrists. “Savages. They didn’t have to kill her.” Gently, he closed her eyes. “Do you have a spade?”
“What? No. We don’t have time to dig a grave.” He sheathed his sword.
“We will not leave her to rot in the elements. Someone loved her.” He rose to his hind legs and crossed his arms. “She was someone’s child, sister, maybe a mother. The least we can offer is a shallow grave.”
May God have mercy on his soul for thinking this fool would be a good ally. Muscle and hormones ruled this hunter like most of his ilk. “Very well, how do you propose we dig?”
“Don’t worry, vampire.” He spat out the last word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “I will do it with my hands. Your soft hands don’t have to get dirty.”
Ahote pierced the soil with his claws and began to move the dirt.
“We’re wasting time. They could be sold by the time we get to New Berg.” What would Sorin do if they returned empty-handed? That alpha had the balls to breach his castle and sneak into his tower. Ahote was a fool, but not Sorin. Benic would never be able to sleep again.
“It would go faster if you shut up and helped instead.”
He unfastened his sword belt and tossed it on the grass along with his fine, leather jacket. “Move over.” He got down on his knees and dug with his fucking fingers.
Ahote slowed and stared.
“Well, don’t stop now. Let’s get this over with.” He scooped out the loose soil and piled it on the edge.
“You know Kele won’t ever consent to marry you.”
He stopped and threw a clump at Ahote. “What does that have to do with digging this grave?” Leaning forward, he met his blue-eyed wolf glare. “What do you know about love?”
He shrugged. “That it’s not worth it. Look at you, a lord on his knees digging in the dirt. Never thought I’d see the day.” He continued digging deeper and kept silent.
Good thing he did. As if Benic had never dug a hole. Granted, this was the first grave he’d burrowed with his bare hands. Next thing he knew he’d be wearing leather kilts and spewing things about pack life being the only honest way to live. He scowled.
Vampire society brought civility and knowledge wherever it alighted in these wild lands. South Amerigo and Afrika were excellent examples. If not for vampires, these places would still be torn by war. They spread peace and learning.
His gaze landed on the dead female. Some of them did, not all.
“That’s deep enough.” Ahote rose to his feet and lifted the small female into her unmarked grave. Someone had loved her and didn’t even know she’d passed into the dark. Ahote turned his back on him to brush dirt off his fur.
Benic made a quick sign of the cross over her body and murmured a fast prayer under his breath.
“You never came across as religious, Benic.” Ahote gave him a very wolfish grin.
“I’m not.” He pushed the dirt over her body. Damn it, he’d hoped he hadn’t seen. “But I don’t see how it would hurt.”
“You never sent your priests into the forest to convert us. Why?”
He shrugged. “They’re not my priests. You have your Goddess. Who’s to say you’re wrong and we’re right? Maybe they’re both the same thing.”
“Don’t ever say that to Kele.” With that, the hunter ran off. Nose to the ground again.
Benic had to run back to his horse and gallop to keep him in visual range. Kele. What had those slavers done to her?