Page 23 of Claimed By Blood

When her sword almost severs my arm with the next hit, she grins.

“Which finger do you like the most?” she purrs, approaching Draven with a sashay in her step.

Damn her. She’s having far too much fun with this.

She may not like Cain, but she does love violence. This assignment would be her idea of heaven if it wasn’t so boring.

As for me… I grind my teeth together, forcing myself to watch as she pulls out a knife and rips his ring finger from his hand. It lands at my feet, and I have to force myself not to dive on it and lick up the traces of Draven’s blood.

He’s my only immortal blood source, and he’s going to be drained by the end of this. This isn’t good.

CHAPTERSEVEN

EVELYN

It takesanother week of constant training before I get my opening. A week of giving Draven my blood so he can regrow his fingers and toes every night. Of sustaining wound after wound while Morwen rains down the full force of her immortal strength on my battered body. She ignores my subtle attempts to converse completely, becoming a silent machine intent on one thing.

And I am improving—as much as I hate to admit it.

I can hold my own for a few minutes now. Slowly but surely, I’m returning to the point where the motions are automatic, freeing up my mind for strategy.

Still, I want to learn more about Samuel, and Morwen’s involvement with him. My determination is why we arrive almost half an hour early on the eighth day.

I have a list of questions a mile long, and I’m not leaving until my sister answers at leastsomeof them. Reaching the entrance to the courtyard, I open my mouth to give Morwen a piece of my mind. Only to stop.

Shock roots me to my spot in the doorway.

Morwen is here, but she has her arms wrapped around the waist of a petite woman, drinking from her neck in the middle of the space where we’re scheduled to train.

Her fingers are clenched on the lycan female’s ass, dangerously close to the hem of her incredibly short skirt. One of the other woman’s hands is tangled in Morwen’s curls, holding her in place as she drinks. The other is clenched possessively on Morwen’s breast.

None of this should have caught me off guard. Morwen having a lover isn’t too surprising, given the casual attitude immortals have to sex. But the tender look she gives the lycan after she pulls away and licks the wound sealed could get her killed.

The instant I meet her gaze, her entire body stiffens until she might as well be made of living stone. Her lover cocks her head to one side and then follows her line of sight until she, too, catches sight of me.

They spring apart just as I move out of the doorway and I look back, wondering if Draven saw.

His face is just as blank as always, giving nothing away as he moves aside to take his normal place, waiting against the wall to be butchered.

Shit.

I know without a doubt that I’ve just walked in on something I wasn’t supposed to see, and Morwen is glaring at me with the heat of a thousand suns in her eyes. In witnessing that moment of softness—toward alycanno less—I’ve backed her into a corner.

It wouldn’t take much to let her secret slip to Cain. Our sire would rip apart this wolf-infested building to discover every little hidden truth she’s kept here.

I’ll bet he doesn’t know about the way the lycans call her ‘alpha,’ and defer to her when they think I’m too far away to hear. A lover will get her tortured and probably killed. Thanks to my fiasco with Frost, Cain ordered my sisters to abandon any meaningful relationships they had. The barest whiff of this kind of treachery, or the lycans considering Morwen their alpha over Cain, may well get every lycan on the planet wiped out.

Morwen knows all of this, so I don’t understand why she doesn’t just strike me down right here. It would probably be easier to blame it on a training accident and take that punishment rather than risk me spilling her secrets later.

I’m better than I was, but she’s still got the advantage when it comes to strength and stamina. Violence has always been the answer as far as she’s concerned.

So when she doesn’t, and instead just gives her lover a little shove towards the door, my hackles rise.

Too many surprises in a short period of time. My hand falls to the pommel of my sword, resting there in readiness.

“All right, you’ll get that talk you’re burning for,” she growls. “Butonlyyou. Your thrall waits here.” A wicked grin dances on her face for a second. “In fact, let’s make it interesting.Hecan do your training on your behalf.”

She snaps her fingers and the lycans who were simply lounging around the edge of the courtyard, waiting for the entertainment to begin snap to attention. Some of them prowl forward, while others hang back.

---