And the beast wanted her, wanted her badly. Ironically, the beast that threatened to destroy the man, could be bound eternally, destroyed, by the woman it craved, by the mate of the man. Kresley was that woman to him.
He’d taken the absence of his inner beast for granted until it had returned. The need to tame that beast, and the need to find a form of exertion to feed the primal energy it created, had returned. It was a burden that all unmated Knights felt, a need to feed the beast within so it would not consume their souls. He’d learned the hard way, that not even a lab and an intriguing scientific equation could quell the beast within him. No. Control came from feeding the beast in one of two ways – with sex or the exertion of battle. Unfortunately, sex wasn’t on the agenda, no matter how much he burned for Kresley, and anyone else wouldn’t do, not anymore. Sex with Kresley would lead to mating, and mating, to her being bound to the Guardians. Unfortunately, his other option, a good fight, wasn’t exactly going to go over well in the middle of a hotel lobby; he was pretty much screwed.
Lucan cut to his left and stepped onto the up escalator headed toward the connected movie theater, aware he was being followed; in fact, he’d made sure of it. Everything he had done thus far, from stopping by Kresley’s apartment, to checking into a room, had been a façade of caution, intentionally leading the enemy to a room he had no intention of staying in. At the top of the incline, he stepped off the ramp and quickened his pace, thankful for an excuse to use some of his excess energy, an attempt to mislead his pursuers into thinking he was in a hurry and careless. To his left, a cluster of restaurants was already busy with a lunch crowd, people milling around tables chatting. A few more steps led to yet another escalator and the ground level, which he walked down – again the impression of urgency leading his prey forward. And then doing the unexpected. He stopped at the ticket booth. It was Friday and the new Indian Jones film was making its first showing.
Once through the rather long line, with ticket in hand, Lucan rode the escalator up several floors to the highest level theatre. By now, he imagined his pursuers were scratching their heads and assuming he was up to something. His reputation, after all, was for death, not entertainment.
Lucan smiled to himself, amused despite the pulsing in his head, the tension of his body. He might not be able to kill his enemies right now, but he damn sure was going to enjoy fucking with their heads. That was something. Not a lot but he’d take what he could get.
He exited the second escalator, didn’t glance toward the lower one, but could feel a presence there, knew his pursuer to be that close. He was, at least, mildly amused by this cat-and-mouse game, and the splintering in his head was a bit more bearable. Lingering at the end of the ramp, he feigned interest in a movie poster, forcing his pursuer, a male wolf in human form, to pass him.
The wolf lingered at the concession stand to Lucan’s left, and Lucan cast him a discreet sideways inspection, cataloging his appearance: red shirt, black jeans, dark hair pulled back at the neck that did nothing to hide the oversized head. Ugly bastard, he was. Easy for security to spot. Good.
Several people filed into the line behind the wolf, a welcome obstacle between Lucan and his pursuer. Lucan removed the spare cell phone he’d bought at the store – he’d bought two – and punched a speed dial he’d set up in his room. The front desk of the hotel answered and Lucan asked for the manager.
A moment later, a female was on the line, “This is the manager, Marie Carr,” the voice said. “Can I help you?”
“I’m in the movie theater,” he said, his voice low, muffled, “and I just overheard a man saying he’d planted two bombs in the building. He said he’s wearing the detonator.” He added urgency. “Please. You have to get everyone out of here. There are kids here.”
“Sir. If this is a joke –"
“Are you listening?!” he demanded in a hissed whisper. "He planted bombs. He’s on the third floor.” He gave them a description.” Then, “Please hurry!”
He hit end, walked to the fire alarm several steps away and pulled. A loud siren went off, screeching through the air with eardrum-bursting force.
Lucan smiled as the crowd seemed to cluster around the wolf at the concession stand. The wolf was on his toes, trying to see over several heads. Lucan lifted a hand and waved, receiving a grimace in return. With a laugh, Lucan sauntered to the escalator, didn’t rush at all. He knew humans. They’d rule out the reality of true danger, linger too long, and then rush out together in a mad frenzy.
Several security people were running up the opposite escalator and one of them pointed above Lucan’s head, to where Lucan was certain the wolf was. “That’s him,” a security person whispered far too loudly since Lucan easily heard the exclamation. “That’s him!”
A panicked frenzy of voices above echoed through the high ceilings as people began to recognize there was real trouble brewing.
Lucan cut back to an emergency exit and took several flights of stairs down to the street. And this time he made sure no one saw him; he disappeared, sidestepped several wolves without being noticed. Lucan wouldn’t be found if he didn’t want to be found. He might not live the life of a Knight any longer, but he still possessed the skills of a Knight, the ability to sense Demons – too bad he was also possessed by Demons.
A grim thought that he shoved aside, losing himself easily in the back streets of Manhattan he’d come to know so well. He walked ten minutes and entered the financial district, and made his way to the Ritz Carlton, located directly across from the Wolf Leader’s corporate office. Relief loosened the vise on his chest as he drew nearer to Kresley's location.
Lucan entered the hotel through the "staff only" entrance but didn’t make it far. One of the “staff” apparently noticed he wasn’t one of them. “Excuse me, sir, but you can’t come through here,” an indignant staffer said, his spine stiff, his tux perfectly pressed.
Lucan raised two fingers, several crisp Benjamin Franklins between them. The man quickly scooped them up, newfound respect glowing in his eyes.
“Can I help you?” he asked, making it clear that he was Lucan’s new best friend. The best money could buy. And Lucan had plenty of it. He’d taken the trust fund that he’d received from the Knights to survive in the human world, and invested well in the medical research that he believed in. He’d cashed in big and hardly touched a dime – a security blanket for times like these–because no one had to tell him the power money wielded in the human world. He despised that reality, preferred the low-key life of the ranch, but nonetheless, understood this world. Lucan cast his best friend a direct look. “Discreetly, you may, indeed, help me,” he replied. “I need a room on the highest floor available – a suite preferably.” Lucan pulled out his American Express card and ticked off a list of supplies he required, including an Apple notebook, internet ready. The internet was packed with myths and legends, and somewhere online that ring had to be referenced and he would find it.
“Anything else, sir?” his new friend asked.
“Speed,” Lucan urged, offering another large bill. “I need this all yesterday.”
***
Not more than thirty minutes later, Lucan stood at the window of a luxury suite on the fortieth floor of the hotel, a computer sitting on top of the shiny burgundy-finished mahogany desk, the burgundy curtains drawn to display a breathtaking city view he was certain Kresley would enjoy. She'd been sheltered, hidden from a world that he’d seen much of. What would it have been like to get to know her? To show her the things he’d seen, to see them again through her eyes? But those thoughts were useless. He would forever be held captive by the Guardians. There was no escape. Not for him.
Lucan stood there at that window, gaze traveling across the city that had become his prison. This path before him should be a straight line, a simple straight line. Kill the wolf. Get the ring. Free Kresley. It had seemed that way in those first days of nightmares and visions about the wolf leader making love to his mate. But the further he distance
d himself from the Guardians' mind games, the clearer he saw things. Simple had become complicated.
That ring was fire, one of the few things that could kill a Knight of White. How could he turn the ring over to Adrian, the Knights' mortal enemy? That ring was the key to saving Kresley, but it meant the death of the Knights of White. Happy endings didn’t appear to be in the cards, no matter how many ways he tried to think through a good ending. But somehow, someway, he had to save Kresley. He had to free her. Resolve formed deep in his core – he would find a way.
He turned to the desk, prepared to force himself to put aside his antsy energy, sit down, and start his research, praying for a new answer to an impossible situation.
Lucan reached for the chair when suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his forehead and the bracelets around his wrists started to swirl. He cursed softly and barely righted his wobbling knees. The bracelets shifted from silver to the cold, wet bodies of snakes that slithered off his arms to the floor. The reptiles shifted into human form, lethal Demons hiding in the bodies of two beautiful, blond females dressed in silver, skin-tight bodysuits.
They leaned into him, draping themselves over him with their lush curves, smothering him with lusty touches, hands roaming his body. Bile rose in his throat–their touch the last blow to a weak body lacking food and rest. God, how he hated this. “What do you want?” he demanded.
“You're tense, darling,” Lithe purred, her breast pressed to his arm. “Let us take the edge off.”
Litha eagerly offered as well, “We'll calm that nasty beast of yours for you. How about a long, hot afternoon in bed.” Her fingers brushed his cheek. “We can invite Kresley.” An ominous threat clung to the seductively spoken words.
“She’s very pretty,” Lithe whispered. “I want her.”
Fear for Kresley crashed into Lucan, followed by anger, anger at himself for being foolish enough to ever box himself into this hell. Lucan claimed two hard-won breaths and then blasted his arms in the air, throwing the Guardians off of him. He backed toward the window, putting them in front of him, not beside him. “Kresley is to be left alone. That was our deal from the beginning, and that is how it will remain.”
The Guardians wrapped their arms around each other, pouts on their faces. “We want the ring,” they stated together. “We want the Wolf dead.”
“Then we will free Kresley,” Lithe added.
“Why do you want this Wolf dead so badly?” he demanded. “What power does he possess that you, or your precious master, Adrian, fear?”
Instantly, the Guardians' eyes glowed red, the charge of their anger spiking in the air like a violent, lightning strike, a moment before pain shot through his head and brought him to his knees.
A low growl escaped his lips. This was getting old. Real. Damn. Old. He caught himself on his hands, fighting through the pressure in his head. He snarled up at the Guardians as they stepped directly in front of him.
Rebellion flared inside him. “Oh yeah,” he taunted. “You’re scared all right."
“You’re the one who should be afraid of the Wolf," they said together. "You should fear him because he can control your woman when you cannot.”
“And guess what, little Knight of White,” Litha purred. “We own her. We can control her, too. If you do not kill that Wolf, we will make sure she wants the wolf. We will make sure she does anything he wants.”
“We will make her dream of him, not you,” Lithe added.
Litha smiled evilly. “We will make you watch them come together.”
“But kill him and steal our ring,” Litha added, “and we will send your pretty little mate to the snake pits for all of eternity.”
Lithe gave Litha a thoughtful look. “Perhaps we should send him there to prove to him we can?”
“No,” Litha spouted back. “There is worse punishment for him. Much worse.”
Lithe smiled happily. “Oh yes. Good idea.”
They squatted in front of him and each pressed a hand to his cheek. “Enjoy your dreams.”
Another shooting pain overtook Lucan a second before images of Kresley flooded his mind, images of her naked, shivering in Cullen’s arms, begging him to touch her. The visions shook him to the core, shook him to his soul where the beast rested. It woke with violent force, clawing at him with violent anger. Lucan felt as if he was being torn up from the inside out. He was shaking, his muscles jerking. He no longer knew what was around him, what was happening. There were only those images of Kresley in Cullen’s arms. And the pain, so much pain.
Lucan grabbed his head, rolled from side to side on the ground, willed away the images that refused to fade. Desperately, he reached for the part of his mind he often escaped to when the Guardians tortured him – but there was no escape this time, no place to hide. Kresley just kept calling the wolf leader’s name- – kept calling – Cullen. Cullen. Cullen…
And Lucan knew nothing but a need to make it stop. . . the pain, the images, the wolf leader himself. It all had to stop. Lucan had to find a way to make it stop.
Chapter Thirteen
At nearly five o’clock, Kresley sat behind her desk, exhaustion forgotten hours ago when she’d started trying to reach Lucan and couldn’t get through to him. Of course, she’d pushed herself so much this past year, she'd developed a "zone" that she slid into where sleep deprivation and guilt were, at least, temporarily suspended. Worry for Lucan was another story. She couldn’t get past it, couldn’t stop fretting. Something had to be wrong with him. Otherwise, it made no sense that he wasn’t answering.
He’d been adamant she call him to check in; he’d been bossy and overbearing – which she’d found endearing for reasons she couldn’t explain. It also lent merit as to why he would take her calls if he could. Which meant he couldn’t take her calls. Her mind had flowered with images of darkness and death. And for someone who didn’t have a creative bone in her body– not even the ability to draw a stick person–she had managed to conjure up some pretty graphic possibilities, all of which downright terrified her.
And waiting and wondering if Cullen would confront her over the snooping wasn’t helping matters. He’d shown up midmorning while she’d been on the telephone, his chiseled face filled with distraction. Since then, he’d had one visitor after another, several of which became extended meetings. There had been no time to find out more about him, no way to nose around unnoticed, no resource to decipher the book. All of which would matter not at all if she couldn't hear Lucan’s voice and know he was okay. She’d spent the past year living for his rescue, thinking of little else. She couldn’t lose him now.
The elevator dinged, jerking Kresley from her thoughts as her gaze shifted to the doors expectantly. A man in a custom-fitted, gray suit with a white silk tie exited the elevator and her brows dipped. Surely this wasn’t the messenger who security had buzzed ahead to warn her about? Dressed like this? The thirty-something man with razor-short, dark hair walked to the desk, and she managed to paint on a fake smile. Barely. Her mind was elsewhere. Why wasn’t Lucan answering his phone?
“Can I help you?” she asked the man.
He handed her an expensive-looking, crème-colored envelope with a fancy gold seal. “Urgent message for Mr. Moore. He’ll be expecting it.”
Kresley eyed it curiously and then did the same of the messenger. She still couldn’t get over his attire. Something was weird. "Who should I say it’s from.”
“He’ll know.”
Of course. Extracting information around this place was like pulling teeth. “I see,” she said, frowning. Maybe this was some normal delivery Sheila had forgotten to tell her about. “I’ll get it to him right away.”
“I’ll wait, in case he has a response.”
“Oh,” she said. “Yes. Okay.” Kresley pushed to her feet and rushed to Cullen’s door, hesitated, and then tentatively knocked.
“Come in,” came his deep, baritone voice.
She inhaled and opened the door, not sure what to expect. The few t
imes she’d interacted with him during the day had been brief and with others present. She didn’t know what to say about the book, but she knew she would have to say something.
He sat behind his desk, a look of leadership radiating off of him, a second skin of authority, of superiority. Papers covered the top of his desk, a pen rested between his fingers. His hair was rumpled, as if his hand had been running through it in frustration.
Casting Kresley a questioning look, his brow arched. “What can I do for you, Kresley?”
There was a hint of arrogance to his tone that she already knew came naturally to him, and had nothing to do with her. She wondered how anyone became that confident in their leadership role, and she admired him for such confidence. She had never felt such a thing.
“I have an urgent message for you,” Kresley announced, indicating the envelope in her hand. “The delivery person is waiting for a reply.”
His gaze shifted to the envelope, and for just a moment, she thought she saw him tense. His expression hadn’t changed, but something shifted in him. Lazily, he motioned her forward, but there was a sense of urgency to him that there had not been moments before. Kresley rushed forward and handed him the envelope, quickly stepping back to give him privacy.
She watched him study the note, his brow furrowing slightly. He showed no reaction to what he read, no sign of good or bad news. Only blank, expressionless authority.
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