Drantos(99)

“It’s right here,” she got out. “This is my fault.”

“Damn it, Dusti,” Drantos said. “Seal your mouth, for me.”

Carlos cocked his gray head to peer down at her. “You’re afraid, yet you still came to me.”

She shrugged.

“If your mate hadn’t pulled you off me, would you have attempted to follow through with your threat?”

“To shove the whip up your ass? Probably. You hit Drantos. That’s fucked-up. He rescued me and shouldn’t be punished for that.”

Velder stepped forward. “I plead with you, Carlos. She’s difficult but she’s my son’s mate. She comes from a world totally different. She has—”

Carlos lifted his hand and Velder stopped talking. The Lycan studied Dusti closely as his glowing gaze cooled to a soft green. “She has courage and a mouth on her but I respect that she’d attack despite knowing she had no chance. She is aware of what you are, correct?”

“Yes.”

Drantos startled Dusti when she realized he’d moved up behind her without her knowledge. She turned her head to glance up at him. She looked back at Carlos.

“You realize I could shred you in seconds with my claws? I’m a full-blooded Lycan, one of the few who remained with the clans when we settled here.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. “I figured you were one of them.”

“Us,” Drantos sighed. “You’re part VampLycan.”

A sniff came from Carlos. “She smells totally human.”

“It’s there but very faint. Her mother bred with a human.” Drantos put his hand on her hip to tug her against his body. “I apologize. Her intentions were honorable.”

Carlos turned his head. “Hold her, Velder. I won’t punish her for the attack but your son’s punishment isn’t negotiable. It has been decreed. He still must take twenty-three more lashes.”

“No!” Dusti cried. “I don’t think that’s fair. I didn’t know your stupid laws. Drantos and his father were arguing about me.”

“This isn’t about you,” Drantos whispered. “I disobeyed my father in front of clan members on more than one occasion. It’s difficult to explain, but this needs to be done so no one else dares to do the same.”#p#分页标题#e#

“The laws are in place for reasons you couldn’t understand, human-raised Dusti.” Carlos sighed. “The punishment could have been far worse. Trust me, young lady. He’s getting off easy.” He jerked his head. “Hold her, Velder. I’ll add ten lashes to his punishment if she attacks me again. I’m amused it happened once, impressed by her fearless act to defend her mate, but enough is enough. I have a football game on that I wish to catch some of this evening.”

“Are you serious?” Dusti yelled. “A football game? You—”

Drantos clamped his hand back over her mouth and pushed her gently toward his father. “Hold her damn mouth, Dad.”

Velder grabbed Dusti around her waist and hoisted her off her feet. The second Drantos released her mouth, Velder put his own hand over her lips. He spun and strode toward cabin.

“Be silent,” he hissed at her. “He’ll take an extra ten lashes if you aren’t. Be a strong mate and control your temper for my son.”

Hot tears filled her eyes when she watched helplessly as Drantos returned to the old swing set frame, presented his bloodied back with two jagged lines already marring his skin, and reached up to grip the top of it. Carlos picked up the whip she’d dropped when Drantos had jerked her off the older man. She watched him pull his arm back, poised to strike, and closed her eyes.

The noise wasn’t something she could avoid. She whimpered when the first crack of the whip striking Drantos sounded and turned her face into Velder’s shirt. He nuzzled her with his head, shielded her view, and whispered in her ear.

“My son is respectful of our laws. He’ll heal by tomorrow night. Just hang on. It will be over soon.”

I hate these people, Dusti’s mind screamed, since she couldn’t say it aloud with a hand pressed firmly over her mouth. They are nothing more than barbarians.

She flinched with every strike Drantos took from the whip.





Chapter Thirteen



Dusti glared at Velder while standing in Drantos’s living room.

His father had carried him home, slumped nearly unconscious over his shoulder. He’d washed Drantos’s bloody, damaged back, before helping him to lie flat on his stomach across the bed. Velder had asked her to wait in a different room to prevent her from getting sick at the sight of the vivid marks covering his son’s back.