Blood Trinity (Belador #1)(2)

If only she knew which side of the lake those two across from her swam on. Hers or the Medb’s?

She had one chance to answer that question correctly.

Live or die …

What else was new?

“Anyone know who called for this delightful little meeting?” the fair-haired male grumbled in a smooth voice born of enhanced genetics and a hint of British influence. The sound matched the urbane angles of his European face, which could be Slovak or Russian. He straightened his shoulders as if that would smooth the creases in his overpriced suit, obviously tailored to fit that athletically cut body that James Bond would envy. She’d put him in his early thirties and at close to six foot three.

Bad, black and wicked next to him might be an inch shorter, but he balanced out the difference with a pound or two of extra kick-your-ass muscle.

“Introductions appear necessary … unless you two know each other.” The blond guy looked in her direction, then at the other male, but she doubted he could see a thing in this blackness.

Then again, who knew what powers he had as a Belador? That thought sent another chill down her spine.

Evalle fought a smirk over pretty boy’s dry tone and well-honed nonchalance. She’d never met a Belador male who wasn’t alpha to the core. But she had no intention of jumping in first to answer after deceit had landed her here.

One of these two could very easily be a Medb surveillance plant.

Tonight’s betrayal had put a serious damper on her “team” mentality, and it burned raw inside her.

“I suppose I shall have to open,” pretty boy continued, undeterred by the rude silence. “I’m Quinn.”

The other prisoner still hadn’t twitched since being hauled into the cave by four Medb warlocks and slammed against the wall. He’d been the last one captured. Blood that had trickled earlier from gashes in his exposed chest had dried … and the gashes were gone. Rumors had surfaced that a few of the more powerful Belador warriors could self-heal some wounds overnight, but she’d never heard of one healing so quickly. Odd.

His head was completely bald, which added a lethal edge to his face. Ripped muscles curved along his arms. All that body flowed down to the narrow waist of his jeans. He cleared his throat, and even that sounded dangerous. “I’m Tzader.”

“The Maistir?” Quinn’s gaze walked up and down the other warrior, sizing him up.

“Yes.”

Truth or lie? Evalle had never met Tzader Burke, commander of all the North American Beladors. If he was Maistir, that might explain why he was here. He would be a coup in any Medb’s career.

She slashed a look at the self-appointed cave host, waiting on Quinn to make the next move.

He shifted his head in Evalle’s direction. “I can see another faint aura glowing across from us. A woman, I presume from the look of it.”

How come other Beladors could see auras, but not her? What had she done to tick off the aura fairy?

When she didn’t pick up the conversation thread, Quinn asked, “You would be?”

“Pissed off.” Evalle opened her eyes all the way.

He smirked. “Love the name, darling. Should I refer to you as simply Pissed?”

She ignored his sarcasm. “No offense, I’m going to need a little more information before I’m ready to buddy up to anyone. Especially two who could be lying to me.”

First again to keep the ball rolling, Quinn nodded. “I had assumed only Beladors answered the call, but your aura is—”

“—not Belador,” Tzader interjected.

Quinn’s moment of hesitation spoke louder than his words. “I see.”

Snubbed again. What else was new? Even though she’d heard the traitor’s call for help telepathically just like this pair of full bloods had and felt the sizzle of their tribe’s connection on her skin, they still didn’t consider her one of them.

Raw fury roiled through her veins. What would she have to do to be considered one of the group? Too bad their hazing wasn’t as simple as eating a few live goldfish. But then, why was she surprised or even hurt? Her own family had wanted nothing to do with her. Why should anyone else?

Still, she refused to be discounted so easily. “You two may be able to see auras, but I doubt that either of you see anything else in this pitch dark. Not like I can.”

“That explains it.” There was no missing the disgust in Tzader’s tone.

“What precisely does that explain?” Quinn allowed his annoyance to come through that time. Not the happy cave host after all.

“She’s an Alterant.” Tzader stared her way, studying on something. “The only one not in VIPER protective custody.”

Evalle released a sharp stream of air from between clenched teeth. “Right. Protective custody sounds so much more civilized than being jailed, which is what really happened to the other four Alterants. I’m not there because I don’t deserve to be there and I refuse to live in a cage—just like you would if you were me. So deal with it.” She’d been there, done that and burned the T-shirt reminder, and it would take more than the entire Belador race to put her back in one.

And she had no doubt how he’d vote if she shifted into a beast in front of him.

Thumbs down. Hang the Alterant.

Yeah, the pendulum was buried on the side of them being her enemies.