The Hunt: Complete Edition

by Anne Marsh

  “No leaving,” she said again. “I’m not running this time.”

  He forced his jaw to remain where it was. No? She wanted to stay here? As if to prove his point, another bone-rattling explosion jarred the air around them. He thrust out an arm to keep her from falling.

  “What,” he asked carefully, “in Heqet’s name would make you want to stay here?”

  “The necklace, Jafar. I need to go back and get the necklace.”

  She hadn’t brought the necklace out with her. It was still in the hands of an Ifrit. Lust vanished in an unpleasant flash of cold reality. If she wanted the necklace, she’d been running in the wrong direction when he’d caught up with her. When he pointed this out to her, she frowned at him.

  “Details.” Her hand waved vaguely in the air. “I had every intention of doubling back. Just as soon as I’d thrown a certain angry Daddy Ifrit off course.” Another explosion made her grab his arm. Damn. The battle behind them was heating up. Pretty soon the entire tube system was going to come crashing down around their ears.

  “Are you crazy?” His voice was low and tight. “The entire tube system is going to come down in a matter of minutes. We need to get out of here now.” He’d have to come back later for the necklace—if Amun Ra left him alive long enough for a return trip.

  “No.” She dug in her heels when he tugged her toward the upward slope. “Appreciate the rescue, kitty— and the sentiments.” She flashed him an evil grin and he fought the urge to groan. “But I’m going back. I’m getting that necklace.”

  She was crazed. He paused. Made her a good match for him, he supposed. Stubborn as a cat—or a mule. He cast another glance back toward the tunnel out of which they’d come. Dust was leaking from the darkness, swirling ominously around their ankles. In a few more minutes, it wouldn’t matter who was right and who was wrong. They’d both be dead. Very, very dead. Not even shifting would fix the damage four tons of very sharp rock would do to his body.

  “You don’t need the necklace anymore. You’re free of Lierr and so is your sister.” He pointed out the obvious, deliberately swallowing his anger that she wouldn’t give up. He knew she wasn’t greedy—not really. So why wouldn’t she let the necklace go? “Damn it,” he roared, “let me keep you safe.”

  She paused for a minute and he almost thought he’d gotten through to her. “That’s sweet, kitty.” He closed his eyes. Gods give him patience. “But I want my necklace back.”

  “And you’re my mate. I want what’s best for you,” he said through gritted teeth. Crowding her against the tunnel wall, he pinned her beneath his heavy weight, reminding her of who was in charge here.

  She shoved back at his chest but stopped wriggling. “Right.”

  Maybe she wouldn’t argue with him. For once.

  Then she continued, “We can go back together and get it.”

  “You were running for the surface before,” he pointed out. “Seems to me that you’ve already admitted returning wasn’t your best idea.”

  Stubbornly, she shook her head. “Got to go back,” she insisted.

  Oh, he really hoped not. Sounds of vicious fighting continued and the tunnel began to shake again. Orange light poured out of the darkness, accompanied by the familiar, heavy feeling of powerful mazhyk being unleashed.

  “Lierr,” he said tightly, “is not winning this fight.”

  “Good.” She turned toward the downward slope. “All the better. I’ll just grab the necklace and go.”

  He muttered to himself, “Should have left you in that tube.”

  Why not? Who was going to stop him? Miu couldn’t; he had that much biology on his side. And, if he stashed her inside the tube, well, he’d know precisely where she was—it had to be safer than letting her return with him to the chamber where Lierr was engaged in mortal combat with one extremely pissed-off Ifrit.

  Why not indeed?

  Moving swiftly, he grabbed her off her feet and dropped her over the edge. She slid down the side with a satisfying shriek—hell, he had to admit it felt good to get a bit of his own back. She had him running in circles.

  Curses drifted up.

  He lay down on the side of the tube to check—yeah, she was snagged on that handy dead Ifrit once again. He got to his feet in a smooth rush of muscle and force.

  “I trusted you!” Her voice echoed eerily off the rock that surrounded her. A small shower of ancient dust and rock crashed down the side toward her. She spluttered and swiped at her face.

  “Good,” he snapped. Being a knight in shining armor wasn’t familiar territory for him. Usually he was the one stopping thieves—not striding off to become one. “I’m going to get your damn necklace. Hold on.”

  “Why?” she wailed.

  Because if she let go, she’d die? He kept the words to himself, though. Both because he suspected sarcasm would have her launching herself for the surface and because the words were truer than he cared to consider. He couldn’t let her go. Not now. She was too damn important to him. So instead, he settled for part of the truth. “Because you want that necklace. Because, for once in your life, you’re going to have to trust me.”

  And he didn’t even know why she wanted the damn thing.

  As if she’d read his mind, her voice floated up toward him as she scrabbled at the sides. Surely, she wouldn’t be foolish enough to try to climb out. Surely, she’d wait for him to come back.

  “For you,” she gritted out.

  He stopped and stared down. Her face was a pale oval in the growing shadows of the tube. They really were running out of time. Conversation at this point was almost inexcusable.

  Almost. He needed to hear what she had to say.

  “Excuse me?” “For you,” she repeated. “I want the necklace for you.”

  “Why would I want the bloody necklace?” he roared.

  “For the Amun Ra.” Her face made it clear that she

  resented having to explain this. “You said he told you not to take the necklace out of the temple. Maybe if you bring it back, he’ll remove the death sentence he put on you.”

  “Why, thief, anyone would think you cared,” he drawled—and then he shifted, streaking down the tunnel she’d just exited.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Miu sure didn’t want the damn necklace for herself. It had already caused more than its fair share of trouble. In fact, it seemed to her that the people who tried to keep it had a nasty way of winding up dead.

  Hell, she’d have begged Lierr to keep the thing, with her blessings, if it had meant that she could scoot on out of here in one piece—and take her Cat with her.

  Problem was, the Amun Ra had put a price on Jafar’s head when he had taken the necklace.

  There was no way her Cat could return to his people without it.

  If Jafar left the necklace behind, he would pay the price. He might anyway. The Amun Ra didn’t strike her as the forgiving type.

  Not a whole lot of wiggle room, and she was an expert when it came to getting herself out of a tight spot.

  Speaking of tight spots, she’d landed in a bad one this time. Miu eyed the walls of the tube in which she was perched. Fifteen feet to the top, but it might as well have been a mile, for all the good it did her. There was no way she could get out until Jafar came back.

  Another thunderous explosion rocked the tube, sending an avalanche of pebbles down on her head.

  “You’d better be good and anchored, buddy.” She eyed her dead companion thoughtfully. Not the worst date she’d ever had. Not by a long shot. The thieves who worked for Lierr weren’t known for their charming manners—or any other stellar qualities for that matter.

  Still, maybe her companion would be of some use after all. At the very least, he was a buffer. She’d thought she was the only living thing in the lava tube. Her mistake. The walls were alive, seething with minute insects she was certain were sizing her up for their next meal. That, or they were going to wait for her to season like Ifrit-boy. In addition, she was fairly
certain she’d spotted movement on the bottom of the tube as well; she could only hope that whatever was down there couldn’t climb.

  “Sorry, lover.” Just in case the dead guy still had feelings—or had been inconsiderate enough to leave a death spirit hanging about—she figured an apology wouldn’t be amiss. Reaching around what had once been an impressively large male body, she snapped a long arm off at the elbow. Mountain climbers did it all the time, right?

  Right. And who was she kidding?

  Eyeing the razor-sharp end of the bone with some misgivings, she jammed the ivory shaft as far as she could into the smooth wall of the tube.

  Which amounted to about two inches. Hell.

  At that rate, she’d be an old woman before she got anywhere. Climbing, clearly, was out of the question. Wrapping her arm around the Ifrit’s throat, she leaned backward cautiously, angling for a better look at her surroundings. Slick, steep walls. Yeah, she was in an old lava tube, all right. Qaf was nothing but one giant fubar as far as she was concerned.

  Lovely.

  This close to escape, and all she could do was sit and wait while someone else came to save her. Sitting and waiting—she shuddered. Not her thing. So—she tapped a finger against the Ifrit’s moldering chin while she thought—what could she do? If she couldn’t rappel upward and going down wasn’t an option—there was definitely some sort of mass movement going on at the bottom of the tube—what could she do?

  She could always wait for Jafar to come back.

  Right. As if she’d be so foolish. Counting on someone else to come and rescue her.

  But he did come all the way to Qaf, didn’t he? a small voice whispered. It wasn’t as if he’d let her go her own merry way and screw the consequences. No, he was still trying to protect her.

  Acting as if he really were her mate. Which he isn’t. He can’t be.

  She was a thief. He was a Guardian. Opposites. And she’d never really been one for the whole “opposites attract” thing.

  Desperate times called for desperate measures. If she couldn’t get herself out of here, all she could do was wait for the Cat to come back. If he decided she was worth bothering with—and she really didn’t know. Perhaps she’d finally pissed him off one too many times.

  Hmmm. If Jafar’s cloak had been able to reach her, then she had to be within ten feet or so of the top. If she could gain a couple of feet, perhaps jumping would become an option. Right, then. Gingerly, she crawled up the Ifrit’s torso, using his exposed bones as handholds. When she reached his shoulders, though, her luck changed.

  And not for the better. With a sharp crack, the bone beneath her foot gave and she slipped. Straight down the dead man’s torso. Frantically, she grabbed handfuls of his clothes, yanking her body against his. Ick. With a disgusting click, his leg bone left its socket. Fortunately for her—unfortunately for him—when he’d fallen, he’d impaled himself on a convenient spike of rock projecting from the wall.

  “How in the hell do these things happen to me?”

  She wasn’t getting out.

  Not on her own.

  Since there was nothing else to do, she settled for rummaging through the dead guy’s pockets. Perhaps, if she were lucky, he’d been packing some nice sharp climbing spikes or an extra rope.

  “Whatcha got for me?”

  Not much, was the answer. Pretty slim pickings. She’d done better rolling the drunks at the tea gardens. All her search turned up was a spartan handful of unfamiliar copper coins and a small, flat medallion that hummed faintly with mazhyk. That last was interesting. She slid the lot into her pocket and considered her next move.

  Cat had better hurry up. Sand and loose rock were starting to pour into the tube from above. Eventually, she figured, she was looking at a cave-in. That, or, in about five years, there’d be enough detritus at the bottom of the tube for her to just stand up and step out.

  The sounds of fighting grew closer.

  And the dead Ifrit slipped an inch. Oh, hell. All the concussions shaking the ground were finally knocking the guy loose. From somewhere came the feral roar of a Cat in full attack mode. For some inexplicable reason, the sound made her feel safe, and wasn’t that crazy, hanging from the wall of a lava tube in a dead man’s arms? More sounds echoed from above her. Curses. Sounded like her ride was approaching.

  Looking her dead Ifrit in the eye, she wondered if dead guys were any good at giving advice. Probably not.

  “You think I should trust him?” She looked down at the pile of bones and old rags at the bottom of the pit. “Trust can be a bitch. Was that what got you into this?”

  Not surprisingly, the dead guy didn’t answer her.

  Nevertheless, the answer had been creeping up on her for some time now, and since she couldn’t run, all she could do was admit the truth. No matter how strange it sounded when she said it out loud.

  “I love him. I love my damn Cat.”

  “Good.” Jafar’s face appeared abruptly over the side, and a rope hissed through the air to land by her face. “Delighted to hear it. Applaud your sentiments and the charming change of heart. Now move your sweet little ass. We’re about to have company.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  A powerful emotion Miu wasn’t quite ready to name swept through her as she climbed the rope. If she’d been the labeling kind of female, she might have called it elation. Or joy. Or any one of several deliriously happy sentiments that she wasn’t going to acknowledge.

  Not now. Not while it seemed pretty clear that their lives were in serious jeopardy. Buzz kill, that.

  His hard hands wrapped around her forearms, yanking her out of the tube. The damn tube he’d thrown her into. Yeah, she owed him for that one. But he didn’t stop pulling once he had her out of the tube. Despite the earthshaking concussions and a whole lot of uproar coming from the tunnel out of which he’d apparently just sprinted, he pulled her straight up against his hot, hard form. His mouth sought hers in a kiss that made liquid heat blaze through her veins. Gods, she’d missed him.

  And he’d only been gone ten minutes.

  Reality check.

  So what if she’d had her doubts that the man was coming back for her? That he might have just decided to call it a day and leave her stuck in the tube? She’d done her level best to encourage that kind of thinking on his part.

  His tongue licked along the seam of her mouth.

  “Miss me?”

  He had no idea.

  “Had me a substitute male,” she whispered, and then did a little plundering of her own. He tasted like hot, wild sunlight and the warmth of him was a welcome shock in the cool shadows of Lierr’s caves. He tasted right. He tasted familiar. The part of her where his bells rested creamed in welcome, wanting him inside her. Now.

  He’d come back for her. No one had ever done that before. Instead of thanking him, however, “Did you get it?” were the words that came out of her mouth. Never mind what she was thinking. Had he been injured? Was he hurt? She let her eyes run over him, checking for injuries.

  He’d picked up a couple of slash marks on the side of his throat—made her wonder if the Ifrits had vampire blood in their family tree—and what looked like an alchemical burn on the side of his face. Someone hadn’t played nice. You had to be real careful detonating those powders, particularly—she glanced up— when you were sitting in a cavern full of old, unstable rock.

  “Here you go.” A familiar weight settled around her throat. “Now I won’t have to get you a ring.”

  “Wait, you were planning on getting me a ring?” A gift? Doing a quick mental inventory, she couldn’t remember the last time someone had willingly given her gemstones. Lierr’s little necklace didn’t really count, since he’d planned on repossessing the stones—and her. Unexpected pleasure curled through her.

  “Planned.” He shot her a teasing look. “Past tense. You want this necklace? Fine. It’s yours.” He was dragging her up the slope now, pulling her inexorably toward the surface. Together they stumble
d out of the caverns and into the otherworldly moonlight of Qaf. “Open a Doorway. Now.”

  She didn’t have to look behind them to understand the urgency in his voice. Yeah, getting the hell out of there would be the wise and prudent thing to do. For once, she was happy to be agreeable. And look—her little fall into the tube had conveniently nicked a tender spot. She frowned at the crimson stain on her forearm. Hazard pay. That was what Lierr should have been giving her.

  “Now, Miu,” Jafar bit out. “Take stock of your damages later.” The ground thundered around them. “There’s an entire clan of Ifrits—really, really pissed off Ifrits who might just be looking for a necklace— headed our way.”

  Right. She’d demanded he become a thief, she supposed, so it was up to her to get his back. And to hope that two out of three would be enough to placate the Amun Ra, because there was no getting around the sad fact that they’d lost Lierr.

  For good.

  She focused, pulling down the moonlight into the stone, channeling the mazhyk until she felt the air splitting open around them, and the Doorway exploded into existence.

  “Nice,” he commented, dragging her through the opening. “Glad to see you’re finally getting over that whole not-taking-orders thing.”

  “You wish,” she said, and snapped the Doorway closed behind them.

  ***

  Miu stepped out of the Doorway—and into the temple. Right between the two pylons that marked the temple entrance. The stone Cats were still caught mid-shift, reaching out with their claws for the still-soundlessly-shrieking thief.

  Probably a harbinger of what was waiting for her inside.

  Don’t think about that.

  She didn’t want to face the Guardians for a second time. But she knew, in her gut, that it was the right thing to do. Who would have guessed that she would end up doing the right thing? That she would want to do the right thing? She reached out a hand for Jafar, letting her fingers wrap around his thick wrist and slide over his warm skin in a small caress. He’d been willing to give up the Guardians, to give up his temple and his responsibilities there. For her. It was a sacrifice she couldn’t let him make. If those terrifying moments in the lava tube had shown her anything, they had shown her all too clearly that Jafar was the one male she could trust, the only one she would love.