A Man of Honor – Jocelyn – 1989

Humming under my breath, I walked the halls aimlessly. A witchlight runestone was clutched in my hand, illuminating the five-AM darkness, the full moon shining through the windows. I'd been doing this a lot lately, just walking, not going anywhere. I didn't know why. Maybe I just really liked the exercise, or maybe the baby liked it. My hands flew to my gently rounded, two-months-pregnant stomach, cupping my child in my hands. "I love you, baby," I whispered to it, not sure if it could hear me.

Then a pounding on our front door sent my heart racing, my breath pounding. I stifled a curse as I made my way there. Who would show up this early in the morning? I muttered incomprehensibly the whole walk there, and then I pulled the door open.

Standing shakily at our doorstep was Luke. I almost gasped out loud. There was a long wound from his temple all the way to the base of his throat, caked with dried blood. His shirt was completely missing, and his pants were in tatters and covered in blood. "Oh, shit," I choked out.

The night after I'd told Luke I was pregnant, the night after I'd heard that terrible scream through the wall, the night I'd confessed my inconsistent fear of my husband, Luke and Valentine had gone on a raid of a werewolf encampment that had broken the Accords. Luke had been bitten. I'd tried to fix it as best as I could, and I'd hoped to God that this bite would defy the odds and not result in lycanthropy. But I knew deep down that my prayers would do no good. Luke would become a werewolf. And now he was on my front step, obviously having Changed the night before. My eyes flicked to the full moon hanging high in the sky, then back to Luke.

"Jocelyn," Luke rasped. He sounded terrible. "Jocelyn, help—"

And then Valentine was behind me. "Lucian?" Valentine's voice was bitingly sharp, acerbic, and furiously incredulous.

"Valentine," exhaled Luke. "Please. Jocelyn, Valentine, help me." He fell to his knees, blood dripping down his face.

I cried out, kneeling beside him, sobs choking out of my chest in shaky breaths. "Luke!" I nearly screamed.

"Jocelyn!" Valentine's sharp gaze turned on me. "The baby!"

Three pairs of eyes moved to my stomach. I touched it tenderly, glaring at Valentine. "What, Luke will kill our child? He's Luke, Valentine!"

"I do not know this man. He is a filthy Downworlder in the body of a man we both once called a friend," Valentine said frostily. "Jocelyn, go, before I force you."

I pulled myself to my feet, helping Luke up as I went. I didn't want to leave. I was scared of what Valentine would do to Luke. But I was more scared of what he could do to me. Not only was I responsible for myself, but for my baby as well. So I ran, tears blinding me, praying that Valentine would have mercy.

****

A Man of Honor – Luke – 1989

I swallowed hard, watching Jocelyn go. Valentine's gaze was steely, and fixed on me. "Come with me, Lucian," he hissed, his tone chilly and full of loathing. He grabbed my arm, pain from tender bruises blooming up at his touch. He dragged me to one of the few trees in the meadows of the Fairchild estate, pulling me behind it.

The taste of raw meat overwhelming in my mouth, I tried to gasp, "Valentine, I—"

"Lucian Graymark, I do not know you anymore," Valentine told me slowly, fury evident in every syllable he spoke. "You were once a man of honor, and I believe you should have the chance to die like that man I once knew." He deliberately pulled a dagger from his belt, the ruby stone in its hilt glinting in the light of the waning full moon.

I knew what he would say a split second before he said it. "No," I tried to protest.

"Take this dagger, Lucian, and kill yourself. Prove to me that you are still a good man, one that would rather die than let your blood be polluted with such filth. If I find this dagger here later today, I will know that you have done the right thing, and I will make sure you are remembered with good words. But if I don't..." It wasn't necessary for Valentine to finish the threat. His eyes told me what his words didn't. Then he kissed the blade of the dagger and handed it to me. "Go, Lucian." And then he was gone, back toward the manor house.

I stared at the dagger, then at Valentine's retreating figure. Tentatively, I tapped my chest with the blade, testing. But I couldn't do it. I knew Jocelyn was depending on me, that I had to stay. I shoved the dagger into what was left of my pants pocket and fled.