04 - Rise of the Lycans by Greg Cox - (ebook by Undead) Read Free Book Online Page B

cracked it loudly against Xristo’s face. The lash opened a
deep cut in the lycan’s cheek. The pickax crashed against the rubble as Xristo
cried out in pain and clutched his face. Blood seeped through his dirty fingers.
    Lucian winced in sympathy. He knew Xristo casually, as he knew most of the
lycans in the castle. He didn’t deserve that, he thought angrily.
    The other lycans backed away from their bleeding comrade, averting their eyes
from the ugly spectacle. Kosta was infamous for his harsh ways and short temper;
rumor had it his only son had been killed by a werewolf centuries ago and he had
been taking out his grief and bitterness on the lycans ever since. None wanted
to share Xristo’s punishment.
    Lucian couldn’t blame the other slaves. If he was smart, he would follow
their example. Stay out of this, he cautioned himself. It’s none of
your affair.
    “Lazy mongrel!” Kosta snarled. “You’ll rest when I tell you to… and not
before!”
    He raised the lash to administer another vicious blow. Before he could crack
the whip again, however, a strong arm seized hold of his wrist.
    “That’s enough,” Lucian said.
    Kosta erupted in fury. Spittle sprayed from his lips as he yanked his hand
free from Lucian’s grip. “You dare raise your hand to me?”
    He drew his sword.
    Lucian refused to back down. He realized he was taking his life in his hands,
but he wasn’t about to let this brute flay Xristo to the bone for no reason. His
dark eyes burned as hot as his forge. “I said, that’s enough.”
    Kosta swung his sword at Lucian’s neck, and for an instant, the blacksmith
expected his head to go flying across the courtyard. He had heard tales of
severed heads that had lived for a heartbeat or two after being chopped off.
Would he survive long enough to see his own decapitated body crumple to the
ground?
    The sword halted at the last moment, coming to rest against Lucian’s jugular.
The edge of the blade pressed against his skin, just above his leather collar.
The touch of the sword reminded him of the silver spikes forever pressing
against his throat, but the threat it posed was far more immediate. Lucian was
only too aware that Kosta could end his life with just a flick of his wrist. He
thought briefly of the knife in his belt but knew better than to draw it.
Pulling a knife on a vampire was a sure invitation to death by torture.
    The sneering vampire searched Lucian’s face for the fear he expected, but the
blacksmith refused to give him the satisfaction. He didn’t even flinch. Groveling for mercy would do
nothing to soften the heart of a heartless bastard like Kosta, so why bother? If
he was to die this night, Lucian resolved, he would at least do so with some
vestige of his pride intact.
    Like a man, not an animal.
    Disappointment flickered across Kosta’s face. Snorting in disgust, he drew
the sword away and returned it to his hip. “The master’s dog,” he growled at
Lucian.
    Apparently, he didn’t think killing Lucian was worth risking Viktor’s
displeasure. Lucian wasn’t quite sure that Viktor would truly be that unhappy if
he perished, especially after what had happened earlier this evening, but he
chose not to contradict Kosta.
    “You will not always be his favorite,” the overseer warned. “And when you
fall, I will be there.”
    “Let us hope so,” Lucian murmured under his breath. Peering past Kosta, he
was glad to see that Xristo had made himself scarce. With luck, the overseer’s
ire was now directed at Lucian alone, so that the other lycan would not receive
any more lashings tonight. Lucian could only hope that his foolish bravado had
done one poor soul some good, even as he suspected that he had just made a
lasting enemy of the brutal slavemaster.
    At this rate, I’ll have offended the entire coven before the sun rises.
    Kosta glared at Lucian, trying to read some hidden message of defiance in the
lycan’s words, then wheeled about and stormed