by Anne Marsh
She made her decision.
“Tell me what I need to do.”
***
Hanging from a rope in pitch darkness, Miu couldn’t believe she’d followed Jafar into this predicament. She’d balked when he’d led her to the vertical air shaft, but he’d given her no chance to turn back.
“It’s our best chance of getting out,” he’d explained. “The Guardians will have to climb after us one at a time. I can pick them off one by one if I need to.”
It took half an hour to reach the top; climbing up had been an agonizing matter of placing the grappling hook in the stone over and over and then forcing her arms to move along the rope, ignoring the painful burn in her oxygen-deprived muscles and concentrating on each movement. Mind over matter. So far, they had heard no further sound of anyone following.
“Don’t stop, femi,” Jafar growled from below her.
Right. Easy for him to say.
“You failed to mention that someone’s capped the
shaft.” When she gestured at the stone grille that blocked the exit, the rope swayed nauseatingly. She had no idea how far up they’d climbed, but she knew falling would mean instant death.
“Hold still,” Jafar said, and that was all the warning he gave. His large body moved swiftly, smoothly up the rope, surrounding her in the hot cage of his arms. His body pressed skin to skin with hers.
She eyed the rope hook—had the hook shifted? Or was she imagining things? “Too much weight,” she protested.
“The rope will hold.” He dismissed her concerns as if he’d done this before. Perhaps he had. How did she know what he had or hadn’t done? Note to self: ask for details of escape plan before agreeing to engage.
One hard arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her securely back against his chest. With his other arm, he reached out and pushed at the capstone. The heavy stone slid easily to one side. The temple’s builders had placed the heavy stone on grooves so that it slid smoothly at the slightest touch. Outside, a cliff awaited her. The air shaft came out at the back of the temple, between its massive stone wall and the steep incline of one of the hills ringing the Valley. Her rappelling wasn’t finished for the day. He pressed a quick kiss against the top of her head.
“Femi,” he began.
They were going to make it! Welcome daylight spilled down over her face, the light so blinding after the temple’s perpetual dusk that at first she didn’t notice the eyes. When the grille had moved, it had revealed a deep, low trench cut around the shaft. Shadows shifted. Slithered. Dozens of black eyes stared back at her. And none of them blinked.
Snakes.
Miu froze. Oh Heqet. Dozens of slim black bodies filled the trench, a boiling sea of writhing, reptilian bodies. Flat black eyes met her panicked gaze.
“I did tell you,” he said apologetically. “The minute we crossed the threshold of the temple with the necklace, we triggered wards set to prevent thieves from ever making it out of here alive.”
“Draw your blades,” she cried. “Do something.” The snakes were surrounding the exit, making it impossible for either of them to crawl out the opening.
“Damn it, Jafar,” she protested, “you said you knew how to get out. To trust you.”
“And I do,” he roared. He hooked her by the collar of her tunic, swinging her upward. “Pull your flarestick. Now!”
She slid the flarestick from her belt. The snakes paused at the blinding light, leaving a small space where she landed. Jafar scrambled out of the shaft after her. Their only choice now was to either stand their ground or allow the snakes to drive them back down the dark shaft. All the way down.
The first snake uncoiled and launched itself at her. She fried it with the flarestick before it crossed the line she had mentally scratched in the air. One down—she gave up counting how many more were left.
After all, the number of snakes probably exceeded the number of minutes that she had left to live.
As the snakes launched themselves in full-scale attack against her, harsh, sibilant words poured from the lips of the male behind her. There was the strange sensation of air pushing out around them in a determined flow of mazhyk and hardening into a sphere.
She looked at him appreciatively as the snakes suddenly stopped their advance, sliding off the orb of air and light that he had woven.
“Nice trick.” She stared at the orb. “Care to teach me that one?”
He shook his head. “You don’t need it. I would never allow you to face such danger alone.”
“Right.” Secretly, she reveled in the warmth his words imparted: he’d chosen her. No one had ever chosen her before. Just maybe she meant more to him than sex. More than mating.
He was doing that trick with his eyes again, the golden glow. She could feel the heat pouring off his skin.
“They cannot penetrate,” he said, completely unconcerned that the snakes were writhing over the orb, seeking a way in.
“I will always keep you safe,” he repeated. She no longer gave a damn about the snakes. She had a feeling that Jafar would be more than a match for them. Indeed, as the orb began to glow with stronger energy, the snakes slithered away, apparently repelled by whatever Jafar was doing.
“Will you really?” She wanted to say something, explain to him what that meant to her.
The orb winked out, but his eyes continued to glow hotly. “Femi—” he began.
Before he could say anything, the first group of Cats burst onto the cliff top. No wonder there had been no further signs of pursuit. The Guardians had gone around the outside of the temple to intercept them.
***
They were trapped.
Jafar hated making mistakes. Hell, he never made them. So picking this time to start, when it was his mate on the line, didn’t sit well with him.
Before he could second-guess himself, he fastened the necklace around her neck.
“Keep this safe, femi. There’s going to be a fight.” He put both hands on his longswords and it didn’t escape him that none of the other Guardians backed down either. This wasn’t a friendly encounter. They were here to stop him. Regretfully, he drew the first blade in a smooth rush of metal, letting the familiar weight of the weapon settle into his palm as he assessed the threat.
Amun Ra hadn’t held anything back on this one. He’d gone full out.
Hebon moved to the front of the group blocking their way. Jafar checked, but the male’s blades were still safely stowed. Maybe he wanted to do a little parley before he got down to business, but there was no mistaking the look on Hebon’s face.
Payback was going to be a bitch.
“Move out of the way,” Jafar growled.
“Not a chance.” Hebon pushed off the wall and strode toward them, stopping only when Jafar pulled his other blade and met the male’s advance with four feet of cold steel.
“No closer,” he warned. “We’re leaving. I’d rather no one got hurt in the process.” He’d prefer to leave without bloodshed, but if they forced him to choose, well, he’d already made the choice, hadn’t he? And he’d chosen the female at his back.
Not his brothers.
***
Miu wasn’t expecting the attack. One minute she was crouched on the edge of the too-narrow ledge, watching Jafar fight off the Guardians one by one with those lethal swords of his, and the next she was tumbling over the edge, sharp claws digging into her ankle.
There was a sickening sensation of falling, abruptly cut short. She’d landed on another ledge maybe fifteen feet below the first one. Above her, she heard Jafar’s roar of outrage.
The Cat crouched over her shifted back to male form, like night washing over the hills. Hebon. The hot press of his body made her want to scream. This close, she could smell the pheromones, the palpable anger that seemed to consume him. When she shoved him away, however, Hebon’s lean arm shot out with snakelike rapidity. One arm twisted hers behind her back, while the other dragged her up against an undeniably hard—and male—body.
“It was a mistake,” his raspy voice growled into her ear, “to come here for Amun Ra’s treasures. The temple is well guarded, little one. We do not tolerate thieves.”
She didn’t know what Hebon’s deal was, but it was pretty obvious that he had a very personal bone to pick with temple thieves. Tilting her head back against his chest, she looked up into his face. Why were they all so damned good-looking? Hebon smiled slowly and his smile disturbed her more than his threats. “Yes,” he said, “you will get what you deserve here.”
“I don’t deserve this,” she protested.
“Not nice to steal,” Hebon remarked casually, halting her awkward scramble toward the edge with a pair of hard arms. With his short hair, he looked, if possible, even colder and more focused than the other Guardians. “Not nice at all.”
A wicked blade materialized out of his leather boot. Oh, hell.
“Why kill me now?” she panted. “Your Amun Ra made a deal. He wants what I can bring him.”
“Which would be what? The male who orders you to thieve, who sent you here to collect this necklace for him?” His fingers flicked the edge of the silver necklace.
“Yes.” She fought to keep her voice even. Why did she find Jafar so attractive when this Guardian merely scared the hell out of her? “I’m going to give him Lierr.”
“Right.” His dark eyes examined her face. “Unfortunately, you are not supposed to give Lierr that necklace. Jafar knows that—why else would he have chosen such an inconspicuous route out of the temple? He knows very well that Amun Ra promised a death sentence for anyone who went after this necklace again. No questions asked. Just instant death. You’re still breathing,” he said, looking down at her and answering her unspoken question, “because Amun Ra told me that he wants you. Rather,” he chuckled darkly, “he wants the pleasure of killing you. Made an interesting friend there, female. I’m not sure if I should congratulate you—or commiserate with you. He has some dark tastes. Ones he does not indulge with his lovers. Apparently, he’s decided that you’d make an excellent appetizer. I haven’t decided whether I’ll grant him that request, or if I’ll exercise my right and take your life right here. Right now. First, however, I’ll have the necklace.”
“The necklace?” She gaped at him stupidly, her hands flying up to cover the piece.
“Take it off,” he ordered. “The necklace doesn’t leave the temple. Neither do either of you now.”
Without the necklace, she had nothing to bargain with. No ransom for Lore. “No,” she protested, but her words were choked off as one dark hand wrapped itself around her neck. Pressure slowly cut off her air until blackness buzzed angrily in her ears. Then he released his grasp and brought his shortknife up against her throat. The blade scraped against her tender skin, leaving a sharp sting and a crimson necklace of tiny pinpricks in its wake.
“Don’t. Say. No. To. Me. Shall we play, you and I?” He vibrated with anger and her stomach roiled with unexpected nausea. He was going to kill her. His fingers were prying hers off the cold metal and there was nothing she could do to stop him. His greater weight held her pinned to the unyielding ledge, slowly crushing from her lungs what breath remained in her.
Spots danced in front of her eyes and she felt the clasp of the necklace part, scratching across her skin. “I’m owed this,” he growled. “More than you could ever imagine. No one—no one—is taking this necklace out of here. Not when people have died for it.”
Whoever had died for it had mattered a great deal to Hebon.
His arm wrapped around her throat and her hands pried at his golden skin. “Don’t fight me.” His sigh ruffled her hair. “There’s only one way for this to end, female, and you won’t enjoy it.”
The hands around her throat tightened and the breath rushed from her body.
She knew with heart-stopping certainty that she wouldn’t be rescuing anyone from Lierr.
She was dying.
***
Rage consumed Jafar.
The mating bond was taking over. Consuming him. Miu was his.
He was methodically running through the pride of Guardians standing against him. Although killing them was still not his intention, Jafar nevertheless knew he’d left more than one set of injuries behind him and felt a feral sense of satisfaction about the damage he’d inflicted. They would not prevent him from taking his mate out of the temple.
Still, his brothers had inflicted damage of their own. Some fought him in wereform, while others came at him with blades. He saw regret in some eyes, caution in others. The raw tide of emotion kept him going, emotion that connected him to Miu. He knew Hebon had pulled her over the side. Only his thready awareness of her through their bond kept him from shifting and destroying the pride.
She was in danger.
He had to finish this. He could hear the breath tearing from his chest in harsh pants. Sweat slicked his forehead and trickled down the thick muscles of his abdomen. “Come on,” he taunted the Guardian nearest him, inviting him to join the deadly dance of blades and fists. When the male advanced, Jafar swept his leg up, clipping his opponent under the chin and knocking the male backward. Another warrior promptly took his place.
The blade rose and fell in a starkly disciplined sweep. A fine dance between life and death until his awareness of Miu flickered like a light being put out. The bond between them stretched, thinning.
Hell.
She was dying.
With a roar, he forced his way over the side.
***
The temple was merely a fuzzy outline dancing in front of her eyes. There was the vague sensation of hands being wrenched away from her throat and then Miu was abruptly pulled behind something large, solid. Sucking in air through her raw throat, she heard the brutal sound of flesh meeting flesh. A blade flashed and flew through the air in a dizzying arc. Hebon fell away.
“Hold on, femi,” a voice growled in her ear. “We’re going down.”
Right. Breathing was an agony, as she sucked desperately for breath through her swollen throat. “Can we strangle him first?” she rasped, only half joking.
“No need,” Jafar replied cryptically.
“Did you kill him?” she asked.
Without answering, her Guardian tossed her over one broad shoulder and began rapidly climbing down the hill.
“Won’t the Cats follow us?”
“I killed some; the rest are in no shape to give chase.”
“But the Amun Ra will send more,” she guessed.
“Don’t pass out on me,” Jafar warned. “I’m going to need to put you on your own feet in a minute.”
“Fine with me,” she retorted. “I do best on my own feet.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
With Jafar directing them, they broke into a lurching run down the far side of the Valley. Fine. She lurched. Hell, she’d just been mostly strangled, so she figured she had an excuse. Jafar, however, ran as smoothly as the damn Cat he was. His eyes moved possessively over her, one large hand cupping her ass and scooting her in a new direction.
“Hey,” she glared. “No backseat driving there.” Unfortunately, her serious lack of breath ruined the effect.
Low, scrubby bushes slapped at her legs as they ran pell-mell down the steep slope. How soon would the rest of the Guardians be after them? Time to call in the cavalry.
Skidding to a stop, she caught herself on a conveniently placed boulder.
“Why are you stopping?” Jafar growled. Clearly, he was all too aware that he’d left behind a really pissed off group of warriors a half mile back. She couldn’t blame him.
“Reinforcements.” She shoved her hand into her bag and groped. There. The smooth round curve of the scrying bowl fit itself into her hand. “This.” She pulled out the bowl and waved it at him.
“A bowl. Right. Very helpful.” Didn’t he recall what she was holding in her hand? Didn’t he realize it was a means of calling for help? Perhaps he thought there was no one who would help her.
�
�This,” she said, just so they were clear, “is going to save our asses. You can thank me later.” She figured his thanks were going to involve some serious groveling.
“Bowl’s going to sprout wings and fly us out of here? Erase the scent trail we’ve just plastered down the side of this hill like a great big come-and-get-me sign?”
“No.” Under other circumstances, she’d have countered his sarcasm with a few quips of her own. Now, however, she was operating under a serious time crunch. “None of the above. It’s the scrying bowl.”
Apparently, he thought he’d cracked the bowl into oblivion during their friendly little cave-in encounter. Well, she’d slipped the bowl back into her bag, and now? It was going to come in handy. Very handy.
Stirring the bespelled surface of the water, Miu chanted in a rapid slur of words that would have made a drunk sound lucid.
“You’re working mazhyk?”
“Bingo.” Small tendrils of mazhyk stirred the hair on her neck. Ick. It was like being dipped upside down into a vat of particularly unpleasant oil. She rubbed her arms nervously.
“Thought you didn’t like mazhyk.”
“Exceptions,” she replied sweetly. “Being chased by a pack of revenge-minded Guardians? Makes a girl rethink her priorities.” And how.
An image wavered, forming over the surface. Surely her Cat hadn’t just mouthed, “About time,” had he? She didn’t wait for the image to form fully. She didn’t have that kind of time. The bowl vibrated in her hands.
“Ebo.” There was a pause that seemed far too long. Damn it, why wasn’t the guard answering? She gave up on the social niceties—Ebo knew better than to expect those from her anyhow—and got straight to the point.
“Get me out of here. Now.” This wasn’t the time for her hired helpers to sit around with their thumbs up their proverbial asses. She had Guardians on her tail and she needed to move, move, move.
Jafar pulled her to her feet. “Walk and talk,” he mouthed.