Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(106)

“Told them what?” But he knew. “About Calum and his mate?”

Her infinitesimal nod held agreement. And guilt. “Shouldn’t have…”

They’d tortured her for the information. “I think the Mother will find forgiveness for you.” Odd how he could now find his own forgiveness.

She reached out blindly, and he took her hand. “Didn’ tell them.”

“Tell them what?”

“About my cubs. ’Bout you or Gaw—” Her breath wafted out, and her spirit went with it.

For a long, long moment, he couldn’t move. Mother. His mother.

“Peace to you on your journey back to the Mother,” he whispered finally. As he rose, sorrow was a heavy stone in his chest. In her final moments, she’d stood strong for her children.

The thought of leaving her body in this foul hole frayed his control.

He had to. He let anger bury the grief and turned toward the door. The Cosantir had entrusted him with this hunt—he would not fail.

Where was Vicki?

He tracked her scent to the far end of the hallway. Another locked cell. When he opened the door, he saw a bed lacking sheet or blanket. The room was empty except for the overwhelming stench of fresh blood.

No. By the God, he couldn’t have come too late. Despair ripped at him, and he groaned.

Dark hair hanging over her face, someone sat up from behind the bed. “Get lost, asshole. If you come near me, I’ll rip out your eyes and stuff them up your nose.” Her voice was tight.

Vicki. Pride in his Cosantir’s mate choked him until his voice came out hoarse. “Bloodthirsty female, I think I’m feeling sorry for Calum.”

She pushed the hair out of her face, and her eyes widened. A bruise darkened one swollen cheek, and blood had dribbled down her chin from a split lip—but her smile was beautiful. “Damn, it’s good to see you.”

“Right back at you.” He stalked over to help her up and froze at the sight of blood smearing the floor. Beside her, blood and tissue soaked a ripped-up sheet. She wore only a white button-up shirt. Also bloodstained. “How badly are you hurt?”

Her laugh held no humor. “I’m fine. This shit is supposed to be normal, although I think whoever said that was a sick fuck.” Rather than giving him her hand, she slid a blanket out from under the bed and handed him…a baby.

“Hunter’s hairy balls.” He froze, holding the tiny mite, wrinkled and red and covered in white stuff. “You gave b-birth?”

“Dude, I hate to tell you, but the storks don’t really deliver babies.”

“Storks?” What did birds have to do with birthing? Was she hallucinating? He frowned at her in concern.

“Give me your hand. I need help to stand up.”

Without thinking, he did as she said—and realized she had another baby tucked into a sling made from the rest of the sheet. A third was cradled in her free arm.

“Three?”

“A litter.” She actually growled at him. “My men actually gave me a litter. Multiple babies. Jesus, I didn’t think the labor bullshit would ever stop.”

When she released his hand, she stood for all of a second before her legs gave out. He grabbed her and held her up with an arm around her waist.

She snarled. “Yeah, I’m going to kill Alec. And Calum. More than once.”

Who knew that a person could find a smile in such a Gods-benighted hell? Owen grinned.

Resettling the cubs, she looked down at them. “You timed it well. I just managed to feed them all—talk about a clusterfuck. I thought they were supposed to just latch on, you know? But they might sleep for a while. Maybe.” Her expression turned grim. “Have you got a plan to get out of here?”

“Aye. Darcy led shifters in to handle the machine guns. When your spymaster shuts down the power to the neighborhood, more shifters will attack.”

“Places like this have generators.”

“Darcy will kill it.”

Her expression filled with concern. “Owen, she was a captive here. Coming back might be more than she can take.”

He smiled at the certainty filling him. “That little female will get the job done or die trying.”

“I guess you would know.” A smiled tilted a corner of her mouth. “You’ve changed, cahir.”

Ignoring her comment, he frowned. “We’ve got to get you to the rear of the building and then to the garage.” Only how? Her legs wouldn’t hold her. He couldn’t carry the female and the cubs. “If you shift, you’ll have four legs—and animal strength.”

That left the cubs. “Maybe we can rig up a harness for you to—”

“You carry my babies. I’ll fight in animal form.”

He started to shake his head.

“I can.” Her expression turned deadly. “Nothing and no one will hurt my babies. Cahir, you get them out, no matter what happens to me.”

Owen stared at her, and his eyes stung. This was the mother love of which bards would sing. “All right.”

*

The metal melted, and Gawain pulled open the door to the third and last machine gun enclosure.

Still in panther form, Ryder streaked past him into the room. A scream was cut off abruptly.

The scent of death wafted out.