Page 2 of Wolf's Redemption

Defiance stiffened Ulrik’s spine. “I will tell you nothing.”

Dark eyes turned flinty, a steely determination dancing in their depths. “Oh, you will. Renaud has an informant. One of your own. I”—Lothair pointed at Ulrik’s chest—“have you. The days of drowning your sorrows in wine and women are over. It is time to get your head in the game. Work with me and you may be one of the few members of your pack to survive.”

Ulrik’s breath caught in his throat. Confirmation they had a traitor amongst them. Who? Lance, their oldest and most experienced surviving wolf? He had stood by his alpha and supported Gaharet’s leadership of the pack. The twins, Aubertand Edmond, big and brutish? He had always thought them steadfastly loyal. Aimon? The newest member of their pack turned after the battle of Montsoreau had left him mortally wounded. Could he have designed to infiltrate their pack at the behest of Renaud? It seemed a risky move. If not for Gaharet turning him, Aimon would have died. Or Godfrey? Quiet, scholarly and ever the strategist? He had his own secret. Did he know Ulrik had uncovered his predilections? Did he suspect the others had knowledge of them, too?

“Is Renaud not forthcoming with all you need to know?” Ulrik sneered. “He is not much of an ally for you, is he, if he keeps things from you?” Or was it the traitor to their pack that had been less than forthcoming? Either way, Ulrik would sow whatever seeds of discontent and distrust he could. Lothair was enemy enough. It would only aid them if he could break up his alliance with Renaud. “Why shouldItell you anything?”

Lothair grinned. From beneath his tunic, he removed a small gold disc on a gold chain. He dangled it in front of Ulrik, the disc spinning. A howling wolf’s head on one side and a blood-red stone on the other. The binding amulet. The one Gaharet had given to him in exchange for his own. Their hastily planned deception rested on his possession of it.

“Remember this? Renaud tells me it is the alpha’s amulet. That you killing Gaharet,as you claim, makes you the new alpha. Only problem is…” Lothair stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I know Gaharet is not dead.”

Ulrik kept his breathing even. Lothair was baiting him.

“You may have duped Renaud with your little ruse. It appears to have also fooled your pack. But not me. Gaharet is not dead, andyouare no alpha.” Lothair stepped back and resumed his pacing. “Since only the alpha can turn men into werewolves, your usefulness extends as far as the information you can provide. For everything else, I must hunt Gaharet down.”

Ulrik rasped out a laugh. “You question my claim, yet you believe every word out of that treacherous archeveque’s mouth.”

Lothair paused, an eyebrow raised. “And which piece of information of Renaud’s should I discard?”

Ulrik met Lothair’s stare, letting his comte see the truth of his words. A truth he had never thought to reveal but was now the one thing that could keep his alpha safe. “Any of us could have helped you turn men into werewolves, helped you create your werewolf army. Even the one who betrayed us. All it takes is a bite—our saliva mixed with another’s blood. It need not come from Gaharet.”

Lothair’s lack of surprise at his revelation fanned the sparks of unease in Ulrik’s gut.L’enfer.How had he once thought he could best Lothair? Risked his pack, challenged his alpha—the man he had, in times past, called his friend—determined to have his vengeance against the comte. He would not make that mistake again.

“And the turning itself?” asked Lothair. “What does it entail? How does it affect the one being turned?”

Ulrik glanced about the small room, not taking anything in, his mind racing. He had said enough, and only then, to keep Gaharet safe. He shifted on his feet, wincing as the silver of his manacles touched unblemished skin and raised fresh welts. He would say no more.

“I see.” Lothair grunted and turned to leave. “Then I must hunt and trap Gaharet.”

Ulrik filled his lungs with the stale air of the chamber, exhaling slowly. That he was even considering revealing the secrets of his pack turned his blood cold, but… Though he may not survive this, Ulrik would see that Gaharet lived. He owed him that. He swallowed, his throat dry from his days of confinement as much as from what he was about to reveal. “Wait.”

Lothair turned. Silence hung heavy between them. Lothair gave him a hard stare. “I am waiting.”

Ulrik gritted his teeth, the words clogging his throat. “Pain. The turning is agony,” he said, forcing the words out.

“How much? For how long?”

“Three days. Or more.”

Lothair grunted. “Three days, you say? Bearable.”

Ulrik barked out a laugh. “Bearable?” He fixed his gaze on Lothair. “Let me save you your delusions. Many do not survive. Some go mad.” If he could guarantee Lothair would die during a turning, he would bite the comte himself. “You should ask Aimon about his turning. He was not born like the rest of us.”

Lothair blinked, the only hint of his surprise a flicker of a frown as he made the connection. “The battle of Montsoreau?”

Ulrik inclined his head. “Ask Aimon how hescreamedfor days on end, strapped to a cot to protect him. To protect us. I can still remember his torment. How he begged us to end it. To end him. Ask him how many months it took to learn how to control his wolf.” Ulrik paused, letting his words sink in. “Aimon was lucky. He had us to shield him, to train him. When he was at his most vulnerable, we were there.” Ulrik allowed himself a vicious grin. “I imagine Renaud is eagerly awaiting an opportunity to catch you at your weakest.”

Lothair stilled. What little air there was in the chamber seemed to be sucked into the silence.

“You think you have it figured out?” Ulrik scoffed. “That you have outsmarted us all. But you know nothing. About us, or what you are asking for.”

Lothair fixed him with an impenetrable stare, the corner of his lip curled in a sardonic half-smile. He tossed the amulet and caught it in his hand. Palm out, he revealed the reverse side, the blood-red stone glinting in the candlelight. “I know this amulet,with its red stone that reeks of blood magic, denotes more than the alpha.”

Ulrik’s heart stalled.

With a flick of his wrist, Lothair tossed the amulet and Ulrik followed its arc across the room until it landed in the dirt at his feet. “I also know if I try to kill or capture another werewolf, if they recite the inscriptions ontheiramulets, if they disappear…” He jerked his chin at the gold disc on the floor. “I need only be near that one, with its red jewel instead of an inscription, to find them. That it will draw them in like a beacon for lost souls.”

Ulrik tried to keep his emotions under control and his breathing even. How had Lothair known of the true purpose of the amulet? The inscription? The bloodstone? Had the traitor told Renaud? He did not think so, for Renaud would have used that information to good effect. And he had not.

---