Lori stepped inside the dining hall and immediately noticed the changes Eric's staff had worked furiously to arrange in preparation for an evening with the Fenrir. Besides the addition of items and rearranging of furniture, there was the stark removal of something in particular that readily caught Lori's eye. Pausing for a second, she brought Des to a sudden halt as she didn't bother to loosen her grip on his arm any.
As she scanned the area, what was readily apparent was the complete lack of females inside the dining hall. On the previous nights there were plenty of women inside the hall, most who accompanied their husbands and were as much a part of Wolfgard as the soldiers. For Eric, the entire clan was his family and each was treated as such, including the women. It wasn't anything Des or anyone else had ever told her, she could tell right from the start.
Now, besides herself, Lori saw only one other woman in the room: Bertie. The head cook was bustling around the hall, ordering several nervous looking young clansmen and working furiously to whip them into a proper serving team. Lori was betting most of them would've rathered run drills till their limbs fell off than be under the scrutiny of Bertie's hawk-eye. Among the servers, she noted several of the soldiers she'd greeted earlier that morning in the courtyard. What she didn't see were any of the usual maids or serving girls anywhere in sight.
Besides the missing estrogen in the room, the next big change was the set-up of the tables. They'd all been moved and pushed together, forming long rows set end to end. It reminded Lori a little of her old high school cafeteria, only with a much wilder looking crowd seated around them. She was pretty sure even the staff at Seward Park High School would have been hard pressed to control this assembled lot.
"They've moved everything in honor of the wolves," Des explained, urging her forward once more.
Lori followed his lead, a little slower this time as she took it all in. "Yeah, including all the women." The fact that she was going to be the only female in a den of wolves and warriors alike ratcheted her nervousness to DEFCON 2 - not quite imminent nuclear warfare but definitely arming the troops for possible deployment. As it was, her nerves were already shot to pieces - this was just the final bullet.
Des gave her a sardonic grin as he inclined his head forward as he spoke, "Aye, them too. Eric is no fool, he knows it's better not to tempt the Fenrir if he can help it." Then his face turned serious again, "Remember Lori, be extra careful tonight. These wolves are a pretty high-strung bunch. I'm not going to let anything happen to you but we don't want to accidentally cause another thousand year blood feud if we can help it."
"A thousand years? Do wolves live that long too?" she asked unable to keep the shock out of her voice.
"No, but wolves don't need a real reason to fight for a long time. Half their wars started over two or three thousand years ago. Hell, not a one of them can even tell you what started most of them, only that they're not planning on ending any in the near future."
"That's comforting," she muttered, feeling her stomach ditch her again. One day she was going to really have to work on keeping both her spine and guts locked in tight.
As they made their way to the end of the dining hall towards the high table, Lori categorized the rest of the changes in the room like she was putting together a practice brief. Around the hall, banners hung with what could only be the colors and standard of the Wolfgard clan. It was the first time she'd ever really taken the time to notice the rising sun and setting moon over a sword and shield that was the seal of Eric's clan. Deep gold and purple colored flags alternated around the hall, their golden threads catching the light of the brightly glowing lanterns. The effect was impressive to say the least.
The dais where the high table sat had also gone through a mini-makeover. The simple wooden table used by Eric and his elite guard was gone. In its place stood a sleek, jet black dining table that appeared to be made out of the same material as the weapons she'd seen in the armory. High backed, heavy looking chairs were set up on both sides of the new table, while an ornate throne-like chair was placed at the head. It reminded her of something she'd seen on cable, not so much Game of Thrones but rather the ridiculously ornate table out of Legend. It was this sort of seat Eric currently occupied and even she had to admit he was an immortal warrior that made it look good.
As usual, everyone was already seated and Lori and Des were the last to arrive.
"Why are we always the last ones for dinner?" she complained under her breath as they made their way to the others.
"Because anyone this hot always makes an entrance," Des answered cockily.
She looked a little taken aback before smiling up at him, "You think I'm hot?"
He snorted, sounding haughty and incredulous at the same time, "No dear. I was talking about moi."
"Whatever." Lori rolled her eyes. She ignored the looks the wolves seated at the high table threw their way as they came forward. Des was impossible on a good day, but the way the female population at Wolfgard reacted to him just made him a thousand times worse. If he got any more swagger in his walk he'd look like a pirate strutting around on deck.
Eric turned to face them as they approached the bottom of the dais. As one, Des and Lori bowed before him, staying on their knees as they waited for Lord McKenna to address them.
Everyone was showing fealty tonight.
Eric nodded once, allowing them to rise and join him at the high table. As they walked to their seats, Aiden and the elite guard stood respectfully. Lori saw that they were all seated on the same side as her, on Eric's right. Directly across from her on Eric's left sat Randor and the some of his men.
Aiden gave the wolves a disgusted look, "When a lady approaches the table, you stand, wolf."
"That is not the way of the Fenrir," Randor replied coolly.
"We are not in Fenrir. This is Wolfgard and you will show my honored guests respect," Eric commanded, though Lori noted he remained seated. She imagined as king, Eric didn't have to stand for anyone, except perhaps his queen.
Randor and his men stood as one.
This was going to be a pleasant evening Lori thought more than a little nervous as she nodded to Randor and his men before taking her seat. Des pushed her chair in a little and once she was settled in everyone followed suit.
"My lady, you look stunning this evenin'," Eric complimented, his eyes sweeping her entire form. Lori felt that smoldering gaze across every inch of exposed skin and she felt butterflies the size of vampire bats take off in her stomach again.
Good gracious, this was going to be a long dinner she thought, wishing she could fan herself like a sinner inside a church. Too bad her outfit didn't come with one.
Des had decided on a strapless gold number for her tonight. The bodice wrapped around her tightly in several layers, while the full skirt had several gauzy under layers that varied in alternating shades of metallic, ranging from the palest silver to the purest gold on top. Her hair had been plaited intricately with gold colored ribbons weaved throughout each braid, before being gathered into a pretty crown on top of her head. The ribbons had been left loose and flowing over her bare shoulders, while over her décolletage hints of gold glittered on her skin.
Right before they'd left her room Des had blown her a kiss and sprayed the stuff all over her - she'd sneezed as some of the glittery powder made its way up her nose. He'd only laughed at her ire before snapping his fingers and outfitting himself in black dress trousers, black shirt with matching gold scrollwork, and boots so shiny she could probably land planes with them.
Lori's eyes moved over Eric and she felt her pulse quicken as she noticed his tunic was the same gold as her gown, opened slightly at the neck and giving a hint of all that perfect bronze skin underneath. The edging along his sleeves and neckline was stitched with a deep purple to match his clan's colors and also worked to bring out the color in his eyes. His silky brown hair hung loose under a simple golden crown, and without his usual braid, Lori was impressed again by its length as it fell well past his shoulders.
What she would give to run her fingers through it, or feel the sweep of it across some of her more sensitive areas.
Lori felt Randor studying her and did her best to stamp down those heated thoughts and keep still under his intense perusal. It didn't take long for the wolf commander to address her directly.
"Lady Lori, I have been advised you and your kinsman arrived only several days before," he began as he poured himself a goblet of wine from one of the pitchers on the table.
She cut her eyes to Desmond who watched the wolf carefully and gave her the most imperceptible of nods. Smiling she reached for her own wine glass that was already full thanks to Des's careful attention, "Yes, that's correct, captain Randor."
"Might I inquire as to which part of the realm you and your clan hail from, my lady?"
This time Des answered for her, "Nowhere close to Fenrir or Wolfgard, my good captain; my ass still hasn't fully recovered from the long journey."
There was a laugh among some of the assembled men. It was the young Blake that spoke up from down the table, "Aye, but your eye seems to have healed just fine, my lord."
An even heartier laugh spread through Eric's men as some of them recounted first spotting them from the wall. Lori blushed as she realized they'd seen her having one of her hissy fits as they'd approached the castle, watching as she'd thrown stones at Des and punched him in the eye. Desmond for his part laughed with the rest of the men, taking it all in stride.
Eric leaned forward, the golden flecks in his eyes glinting in the light, "'twas a mighty fine strike, my lady. Sure and true like a true warrior," he added.
"Thank you, my lord," she said, feeling her face grow even hotter.
"Aye, what did your brother do to deserve such ire, my lady?" Aiden asked as he practically leaned across Des's lap.
"He was breathing," she mumbled taking another sip of her wine. She forgot how good everyone's hearing was at the table. Eric's men and some of the wolves laughed loudly as they drank their own various cups of wine and ale.
"Perhaps you have some wolf blood in your line, my lady." Randor eyed her shrewdly. "'tis said the only thing more dangerous than a wolf is a she-wolf."
"I'm no wolf," she said, repeating the same words Eric had said to her only a few hours earlier.
"But you are dangerous..." Randor murmured, raising his own glass and taking a long pull from his cup, his eyes never leaving hers. Lori didn't have to be told that the wolf commander was the worst kind of predator; a creature that enjoyed spilling blood and watching the violence that ensued for the fun of it. His eyes promised pain and a determination to find her weakness.
"Only to anyone foolish enough to get in her way," Des said now, saving Lori from the very real wolf sitting across the table. He reached over and squeezed her hand and something in Des's touch helped calm her jangled nerves.
Eric's gaze narrowed as he looked upon Oren's commander, "So, Captain Randor, what news of Nightfall?"
Captain Randor turned his attention to Eric and Lori was able to breathe a little easier. She hoped between Eric and Des working together, she might be able to make it through tonight. It didn't take her long to realize they were talking about another clan - not wolves or warriors this time but something that really chilled her to the bone.
"We've lost five pack members to those bloodthirsty devils - none survivin' the taint of their kind."
Lori leaned over to Des to ask, "What kind of taint?"
"Of the undead, my lady," Randor snarled, "Surely even you've heard of the last surviving vampire clan at Nightfall."
"Excuse my sister, captain. She is not as knowledgeable of the various clans within the realm," Des said coming to her defense yet again.
Lori was really beginning to dislike the captain - he was a grade A asshole if ever she'd met one. He was scary to be sure, but to make it worse he really was an asshole. Something about that realization helped to control the fear he instilled in her - perhaps because it made him more human in her eyes.
Randor eyed Desmond now, the look of contempt clear in both his tone and his glare, "And you, human? Think you are more knowledgeable than your ill informed sister?" the insult to both of them was clear. Lori watched Aiden shake his head sharply at Eric.
Des appeared calm, even slightly amused by Randor's rancor. "Oh, aye," he replied, "You would be surprised at how much I know, captain."
"A mere mortal," the wolf scoffed.
"An entertainer for several clans in the region," he corrected. "For example, did you know the Warg still request that I re-tell the story of their clan's origin every time I travel there?"
There was a distinct shift in the tension at the table. Every wolf across from them seemed to grow still, as if ready to pounce at the order. Captain Randor's face had grown even harsher, a promise of pain and death etched in every line.
Des didn't bat an eye as he looked at the dangerous predator. "Yes, let's see...I believe that story starts with an ancestor of yours, captain. A most unfortunate turn of events that led to such a shameful defeat..." he gave a sympathetic sort of sigh, "One would think that tale would get old, but I guess it really is all about your target audience." He looked back at Lori and winked.
She took a large swallow of her wine thinking that passing out at the table again would be preferable to having to stay conscious through all of dinner.
Eric stepped in before things got out of hand, "As fascinating as such a tale is, I think perhaps we might enjoy another one of your songs this evenin'." He turned and looked at Lori, his eyes searing her down to her bones, "The music you make moves the soul, my lady."
She reminded herself to breathe but couldn't quite figure out the mechanics of it anymore. What the hell was Eric doing to her? She was trying to stay cool and collected but if he kept eyeing her like he wanted to take a big bite out of her, then how was she supposed to accomplish that?
Thankfully she was saved by the bell. Literally. One of the young soldiers Bertie had enlisted to serve rang a large bell and dozens of platters rolled out of the busy kitchen in a long line. The feast Bertie had prepared was utterly ridiculous. There was so much meat, Lori wondered if they'd just depleted the entire game reserves on the planet. Every manner of meat, both roasted and practically rare, came out of the kitchen: fowl, venison, beef, poultry, wild boar, and plenty of other creatures she couldn't begin to imagine names for.
As the platters came out and were set at the high table, Eric leaned over and spoke to her softly, "I asked Bertie to save you a few extra desserts lass, in case you get hungry for somethin' in the middle of the night."
She looked back at Eric, unable to formulate a halfway decent response. All she could think about was seeing him eating an apple dessert in all his naked glory. Her lips parted and she felt herself exhale gently as a slow heat invaded her belly. She thought about all those perfect muscles and luscious skin just waiting to be stroked.
Snap out of it Lori! These are wolves and they can smell arousal like you can a Nathan's hot dog.
Lori pulled her head sharply up and glanced back at Des. He was staring at her like he was going to poke her with his fork if she didn't get her act together. She glared and silently called him some of the nastier names she kept on file for special occasions. It wasn't like she was doing any of it on purpose. As a matter of fact, her idea had been to hide out in her room all night, but since she'd been vetoed by both of the men that were currently turning her life upside down, what did he expect?
Save the pity party for someone who cares. Just eat your food and keep your eyes down.
Fine!
Lori picked up her fork and knife and began to cut into the meat on her plate. She wasn't sure who'd served her while she was busy drooling over Eric, but she was happy she didn't have to do it herself. Managing the fork and knife was hard enough. As she focused on her plate she tried really hard to keep her eyes down, not wishing to look at the wolves around her. The smacking and crunching noises they made as they dove into the food was almost deafening, and she was pretty sure it was a sight she could do without.
After several bites of her perfectly roasted chicken, she looked up to see Randor eyeing her closely.
"Do most humans eat meat?" he asked.
Lori swallowed the suddenly dry chicken, working it down her throat with some effort. "Some," she finally answered.
"I had assumed most did not."
"Well, most of the humans I know eat meat. Lots of it in fact," she replied, turning back to her meal. There were a few girls in her study group that studiously avoided meat and other animal products, but she'd never been one of them. If it was one thing Jerry the Jerk could do really well, it was grill up a perfect filet mignon.
"That is unusual," he remarked, picking up a large turkey leg.
Lori really tried to stop herself from taking the bait, but it was like trying to drown yourself in your own bathtub - it was impossible. "And why is that?' she asked, unable to avoid the sharp tone that laced her words.
"Because my dear lady, most prey avoid eating the flesh of their brethren," he answered, taking a bite of the turkey leg and peeling away most of the meat with a single swallow. His lips curled up in the most unsettling manner and Lori felt her appetite disappear along with the last of her nerves.
She stood suddenly just as Eric reached for her hand, "Please, my lady. You have barely eaten."
Lori looked into eyes that seemed to see straight into her soul. "I'm sorry, my lord. I seem to have lost my appetite. If you would be so kind as to excuse me, I think I might retire for the evening."
Eric watched Lori struggle and the warrior inside him wanted to tear and maim the wolves in his hall, starting with their commander. Randor seemed to be baiting Lori with every word that fell from his poisonous lips, but for what purpose Eric did not know. It didn't matter. She was his. His to protect. His to defend. Unfortunately for all of them, since she had not bonded with him and he had not claimed her as his mate in front of his clan, he could not offer her such protection from the Fenrir. It was a delicate game they played; she was only his guest, not his mate, so attacking Randor now would seem unduly harsh.
The warrior in his soul could care less about such matters. It wanted to tear Randor in half for bringing any sort of discomfort into Lori's life. The wolf's constant focus on Lori was driving him mad. It was Aiden's insistent chattering inside his head that had kept him still when he was a single strike from knocking the wolf commander's head clean off his shoulders.
Doona Eric! You must be cautious! Randor is tryin' to determine what role she plays here. He wants to use Lori against you if he can.
He is insulting my mate, Aiden. What is worse is that he is frightenin' her at my own table. I willna allow it.
Then allow her clansman to defend her, cousin!
Desmond had stepped in over the course of the meal, coming to Lori's defense or trying to deflect the wolf's ire back onto himself, but even his efforts had proven insufficient. Now, Lori was ready to leave and Eric wanted nothing more than to let her go. Yet, a larger part of him couldn't. Not without following her and then Randor, along with the rest of the Fenrir, would know she was his weakness.
"Perhaps some entertainment then, dear sister?" Desmond interrupted, rising from the table with dramatic flair. The wolves and warriors alike murmured excitedly amongst themselves at the declaration.
"An excellent idea!" Aiden agreed from beside him.
Eric continued to stare at his mate, "It would please me greatly if you were willin' to sing somethin' for us, my lady." He saw the fear in her eyes. She no longer wanted to be anywhere near the wolves and yet she hated appearing weak in front of him.
The warrior in his soul watched as she struggled with the decision to run and hide or stand and fight. It was a decision all soldiers had to make at some point and was the true measure of a warrior. When she stood a little taller, nodding her agreement to perform in front of such a deadly crowd, his soul shouted in triumph. She truly was his other half - a woman who would not run from an enemy but chose to face them standing.
Tonight, when the danger of the Fenrir was behind them, he would make her his queen; his very own goddess to worship with every part of his body and soul.
She would not spend another day without his bond firmly in place for all to see.