so,” Temple spoke softly, belying
the hard edge beneath the words. He may not be able to whisk Tambra away, as
his instincts demanded, but he could entice her to come with him willingly. He
was a man with no small amount of appeal when it came to women, and quite adept
at seduction. Given a little time, he was sure Tambra would succumb to his
obvious charms.
Satisfied that an advantageous conclusion would soon be reached
in regards to the female, he addressed the much more serious problem at hand.
“Has there been any word on the missing Weres?”
“They have been captured and destroyed.”
Temple sighed with regret. “What a waste. Please put the word
out that we need more recruits for our cause. I want to see at least five new
Weres within the next two days.”
“Do you think that wise? With the Enforcers sniffing around, it
is getting more difficult to keep them believing the virus theory.”
Temple brushed Lucien’s concerns off with a shrug of his
shoulders. “Even if they question the virus, they will be unprepared to stop
what has already been put into action.”
Lucien’s jaw tightened, his expression troubled as he glanced at
Temple. “I have a bad feeling about all this. There is too much that can go
wrong, too many variables for my comfort.”
“Just do as ordered Lucien, let me worry about the rest. Get
me those Weres and watch the others carefully. At any sign of loss of control,
destroy them.”
Weres, unlike Pure Blood Lycans, were not born but made. Humans
bitten by Weres could only shift on a full moon and could only retain one shape,
the “werewolf” form, which was a humanoid form with fangs and claws, a mix of
wolf and human. Only Lycans, or Pure Bloods as they were most commonly called,
could shift between three forms, their human form, the werewolf, and wolf.
They could also shift at will, not restricted to the pull of the moon, and they
could control their baser instincts with less effort than Weres.
Temple had done everything short of incarcerating the Weres to control
their emotional imbalance. The need to hunt and feed was the only thing
compelling them. Feral Weres were stronger than the regular Weres, and the
longer they remained out of control, the less restrained by the moon they
became, until they too could shift at will.
Temple needed his new army easily controlled. He would let the
Enforcers think whatever they wanted. Diseased ferals or an uprising, either
way it was much too late for them, and for the old regime of short sighted
Tribunal members. Temple was in a battle for the survival of his Lycan Breed,
there was nothing he wouldn’t do, no crime too great. He would be instrumental
in the downfall of the Enforcers and the Tribunal. He would herald a new form
of government. And he would have Tambra Ellis at his side.
Chapter Six
Marcus couldn’t escape the images as they played out. Even
though centuries had passed, the dreams still haunted him, binding him in a
relentless grip that he was powerless against. A fine sheen of sweat covered
his body as he tensed, muscles straining against the wave of remembered pain
and death.
Blood ran in small rivers, marring the pristine white sand of
the coliseum floor, pooling around the bodies of the fallen. The metallic tang
of it clogged Marcus’s nose. He could taste death in the back of his throat.
As he raised his bloody sword in victory, the crowd went mad, surging to their
feet, his name on their lips in a chant that vibrated through the air.
Marcus Valerian, adored gladiator, fierce warrior, proud Spartan, and slave to
Rome.
The vision blurred into a swirl of colors, coalescing into
the rich silks of blue, red, and green that surrounded him as he lay on a
pallet of pillows and sheets. He had been summoned here many times, a common
practice with the elite citizens of Rome. The popular gladiators were
the hard edge beneath the words. He may not be able to whisk Tambra away, as
his instincts demanded, but he could entice her to come with him willingly. He
was a man with no small amount of appeal when it came to women, and quite adept
at seduction. Given a little time, he was sure Tambra would succumb to his
obvious charms.
Satisfied that an advantageous conclusion would soon be reached
in regards to the female, he addressed the much more serious problem at hand.
“Has there been any word on the missing Weres?”
“They have been captured and destroyed.”
Temple sighed with regret. “What a waste. Please put the word
out that we need more recruits for our cause. I want to see at least five new
Weres within the next two days.”
“Do you think that wise? With the Enforcers sniffing around, it
is getting more difficult to keep them believing the virus theory.”
Temple brushed Lucien’s concerns off with a shrug of his
shoulders. “Even if they question the virus, they will be unprepared to stop
what has already been put into action.”
Lucien’s jaw tightened, his expression troubled as he glanced at
Temple. “I have a bad feeling about all this. There is too much that can go
wrong, too many variables for my comfort.”
“Just do as ordered Lucien, let me worry about the rest. Get
me those Weres and watch the others carefully. At any sign of loss of control,
destroy them.”
Weres, unlike Pure Blood Lycans, were not born but made. Humans
bitten by Weres could only shift on a full moon and could only retain one shape,
the “werewolf” form, which was a humanoid form with fangs and claws, a mix of
wolf and human. Only Lycans, or Pure Bloods as they were most commonly called,
could shift between three forms, their human form, the werewolf, and wolf.
They could also shift at will, not restricted to the pull of the moon, and they
could control their baser instincts with less effort than Weres.
Temple had done everything short of incarcerating the Weres to control
their emotional imbalance. The need to hunt and feed was the only thing
compelling them. Feral Weres were stronger than the regular Weres, and the
longer they remained out of control, the less restrained by the moon they
became, until they too could shift at will.
Temple needed his new army easily controlled. He would let the
Enforcers think whatever they wanted. Diseased ferals or an uprising, either
way it was much too late for them, and for the old regime of short sighted
Tribunal members. Temple was in a battle for the survival of his Lycan Breed,
there was nothing he wouldn’t do, no crime too great. He would be instrumental
in the downfall of the Enforcers and the Tribunal. He would herald a new form
of government. And he would have Tambra Ellis at his side.
Chapter Six
Marcus couldn’t escape the images as they played out. Even
though centuries had passed, the dreams still haunted him, binding him in a
relentless grip that he was powerless against. A fine sheen of sweat covered
his body as he tensed, muscles straining against the wave of remembered pain
and death.
Blood ran in small rivers, marring the pristine white sand of
the coliseum floor, pooling around the bodies of the fallen. The metallic tang
of it clogged Marcus’s nose. He could taste death in the back of his throat.
As he raised his bloody sword in victory, the crowd went mad, surging to their
feet, his name on their lips in a chant that vibrated through the air.
Marcus Valerian, adored gladiator, fierce warrior, proud Spartan, and slave to
Rome.
The vision blurred into a swirl of colors, coalescing into
the rich silks of blue, red, and green that surrounded him as he lay on a
pallet of pillows and sheets. He had been summoned here many times, a common
practice with the elite citizens of Rome. The popular gladiators were
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