She arched upward, heading for a hatch in the ceiling. The heavy iron door blew open, and she zipped inside.
With a growl, he leaped upward, caught the steel ladder inside the tube, and scrambled after her.
“Arial!”
Had the Transition driven her over the edge, the way it once had him? Remembering the nightmare of his madness, fear clutched at him.
Arial lost in that kind of hell…
Josiah leaped upward, clearing three rungs to catch a fourth in his desperation. “Arial!”
THE wind whipped Arial’s face, surprisingly warm and sweet scented. Flying was exhilarating, a hot rush that fed her adrenalin junkie’s soul. And with Shen-Lung within her, it was surprisingly effortless. She need only think, and the wind answered her whims.
It was like being a goddess.
Another hatch lay at the end of the access tube. A flick of her fingers sent a blast of wind against it, and the door flew open. She shot out into the open air and headed skyward.
The sun had risen, spilling pools of flame and gold across the horizon. She spun as she arched upward, savoring the sun on her face, the warm wind that supported her, despite the winter chill all around. Looking downward, she gaped in surprise.
Below her feet lay a sprawling castle of cream stone she instantly recognized. It was Bayfield House, a nineteenth-century mansion built by Michael Bay, the eccentric heir to one of America’s greatest fortunes.
Psych’s headquarters lay beneath Bayfield House?
Arial’s eyes widened as she put two and two together. Psych must be Richard Bay, Michael’s great-great-grandson. Her joke about the Batcave had been closer to the mark than she’d dreamed.
Damn. One of the most powerful men in the South was a Hyper. How the hell had he managed to keep that secret?
Telepaths can always find blackmail material, Shen-Lung’s voice said in her mind. But at the moment, we have a more immediate problem. You must learn to call the power.
But it isn’t my power—it’s yours.
No, I’m only the power source. Yours is the will that shapes it. That’s the arrangement.
What arrangement?
You give me life. I give you power.
Arial blinked. I don’t remember making that particular deal.
My people have a slightly different conception of these things than yours.
No shit. But it was hard to quibble with the elegant sweep of Bayfield House below, surrounded by its grape arbors and gardens, the Blue Ridge Mountains rolling all around it like ocean waves. What a view it would be in the spring…
Concentrate, girl. You need to feel the patterns of energy around you, if you want to influence them.
She frowned as she stopped her rise and hovered, feeling weightless as a soap bubble. The wind swirled around her, warm as springtime. How am I supposed to do that?
What’s your body made of?
Arial shrugged. Skin, blood. Bones.
Deeper than that. Look. An image of herself floating in the air flashed into her mind. It grew, drew closer and closer, like a camera zooming in, the view tightening on her arm, her hand, her fingertip, until she could see the swirls and ridges of her own fingerprint, then the tiny pores. And then even closer, down to the cellular level, from cell structures to chains of molecules, then impossibly even closer to the dance of atoms, the fuzzy glowing zip of electrons swirling around atomic nuclei. Deeper and deeper to the smear of quarks.
The image blurred outward again with a speed that was almost nauseating, but all she could see now were darting flashes of energy. It was no longer possible to tell where her body ended and the air around her began. Because it’s all the same, Shen-Lung said. The barriers between one and the other are illusion. Concentrate now, and you can feel it.
He was right. She could see the swirls and eddies of energy, of heat. The fat, dancing molecules of water, oxygen, carbon dioxide, and countless others. Wonder rose in her—the kind of emotion she hadn’t felt since the day she’d watched a little girl die. “Ohhhh,” she breathed softly.
That’s it, Shen-Lung said. Now fly.
And he dropped her.
Arial yelped, as lines of force snapped tight around her body and jerked her downward. Instinctively, she reached out and sent power surging outward, countering gravity.
She shot upward like a rocket, her teeth snapping together so hard she bit her tongue.
Too much power, Shen-Lung observed.
Arial growled a curse and tried again, easing back on the energy that flowed from her, slowing her flight to a hover. “You might have warned me!”
And what would you have learned from that?
Yeah, well, if I’d killed myself, I wouldn’t have learned a damn thing.
Would I have allowed that, when I’ve worked so hard to find you? The dragon thrust his scaly head from her body and glanced downward. Speaking of those who are looking for you…
Arial automatically followed his gaze, her sight returning to normal. Beneath her, a familiar figure stood looking up. He wasn’t wearing his armor or mask, but somehow she knew him anyway.
“Tracker,” she breathed.
JOSIAH stared upward, his heart pounding furiously. When Arial had dropped, he’d instinctively lunged to catch her, even knowing it was worse than futile. The impact would have killed her anyway—and probably him, too. In that moment, he’d known that if she died, he might as well die, too.
It was completely irrational. He didn’t even know her, for God’s sake.
Then she’d caught herself at the last moment, and hope and relief had bloomed in his chest, so intense they’d dizzied him.
He watched her float to earth, her long dark hair whipping in the wind, energy sparking and snapping around her. The glow illuminated her delicate face, the lush line of her mouth, the gold in her dark eyes. The white nightgown with its thin spaghetti straps hugged her torso, even as its full skirt danced around her thighs. She looked more like a goddess than anything human.
She descended, weightless as a dream, until her slender hands touched his shoulders. Josiah reached up and took her waist in his hands, drawing her close.
She let him take her weight at the same time as he took her mouth. He supported her easily as they kissed, deep and slow. She tasted of power and desire and clean spring wind. “Tracker,” Arial breathed.
“Josiah,” he corrected roughly, catching her under her knees to cradle her in his arms. “My name is Josiah Ridge.” He started back toward the hatch with her. “And you scared the hell out of me.”
“Maybe it’s time you stop being scared,” she said softly, combing a hand through his dark hair. “I’m not that fragile.”
Josiah looked down into those goddess eyes. “I’m beginning to figure that out.”
Then he gave her a grin, flipped her over his shoulder, and carried her down the hatch to the sound of her laughter.
WITHOUT the mask, he was a little more rough-hewn than she’d expected, with thick dark brows over deep-set hazel eyes. His Roman nose was a bit off-line, as if it had been broken a time or two. His jaw was a bit too broad and square for GQ beauty, an effect heightened by the ruthlessly short brush cut of his sable hair. Somehow, that lush mouth looked even more seductive against all that aggressive masculinity. She couldn’t wait to taste it again.
Arial got her chance when he carried her back to his bedroom. She’d half-expected to have to coax him again, but the moment her backside hit the mattress, he was peeling her out of her nightgown, dragging its silky hem over her head and tossing it aside. Leaving her clad only in a pair of tiny lace panties.
Then he stepped back. And simply stared. For a moment, his hazel eyes flared tiger gold, pupils turning to slits. Arial caught her breath as every muscle in his body coiled as if he were about to spring. He was so big, so broad, muscle lying in sculpted ridges under his tanned skin. She swallowed, feeling her nipples tighten.
Those eyes flicked to the pink tips and flared even brigh
ter. He licked his lips.
Then he caught the waistband of his sweats and pushed them down, as if he couldn’t stand to have his body covered another instant. Straightening to his full height, he paused, his gaze challenging.
The full effect of his nudity was stunning. He was so erect, his cock angled slightly upward in an elegant male curve, his balls hanging full between powerful thighs.
His was not the shaved and airbrushed perfection of a male model. There was hair on his chest, calves, and forearms; veins snaking along his big hands; a couple of ugly scars framing one knee that suggested surgery some time in his past.
He was not, after all, some comic book fantasy man. Powers or not, ghost tiger notwithstanding, he was flesh and blood.
And she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted a man in her life.
Arial slid her fingertips into the waist of her panties, and tugged them down over her legs. His eyes flared hot gold as she tossed them aside.
“God, Arial…” And then he was on her, kissing her with a stark hunger that left her boneless, his tongue sliding deep in conquest, his teeth gently scoring her lower lip. She dug her nails into his powerful bare back, loving the feel of his skin under her hands. When his strong, warm hands palmed her breasts, Arial could only close her eyes in delight.
He growled, the sound not quite human, and bit his way softly down the tendons of her throat. He paused at her collarbone to taste and lick, as his fingers plucked her nipples, twisting with a wicked, breath-stealing skill.
By the time he pulled his head away, she was gasping, her heart hammering in her chest. He gave her a feral, slit-pupiled look and covered her breast with his mouth. Suckled, pulling fiercely, giving her no mercy as he played with her. Driving her insane.
The rake of his teeth made her back arch. “Tracker!”
“Josiah.” He growled it, fierce and animal, as he punctuated each word with a gently stinging bite. “My name. Is. Josiah.”
“Josiah.” She wrapped her hands around his head. “Josiah, Josiah. Keep doing that, and I’ll call you whatever you want.”
“Betterrrrr.” He reached down the length of her body to quest between her thighs. Strong fingers strummed over her clit, making her writhe. Then slid slowly, carefully deep. Pumped. He looked up with those glowing eyes. “You’re wet.”
Arial laughed, the sound strangled. “Hell, yeah.”
“You’re going to be even wetter.” He bent his head and went back to licking and suckling her nipples even as he pumped his finger within her. In. Out. Inexorably. Mercilessly.
Until she was writhing, half out of her mind. “God, Josiah! You’re driving me insane!”
“Not yet.” He grabbed her by the hips and flung himself down on his back. Before she knew what was happening, he’d spread her over his face.
For a moment she instinctively tried to pull away, but his big hands tightened, forcing her down onto his ruthless mouth. With a whimper of surrender, Arial grabbed the headboard. His tongue lapped and danced over her clit, the sensation so furiously intense, Arial flung back her head, yowling, dimly aware of her hair whipping her bare back.
He growled at her like the tiger, working her with teeth and lips and tongue, licking at her clit, her inner lips, thrusting into her. Until she shook on top of him, blinded by heat.
The orgasm rose in a fountain of flame, pouring up her core, ripping a scream from her throat.
Somewhere in the distance, she heard a tiger’s deep-throated roar.
JOSIAH listened to Arial’s helpless gasps of pleasure, as his cock jerked in lust. In some distant part of his mind, he knew he was out of control, but he didn’t care.
He could trust Arial not to let him go too far. His goddess could stop him whenever she wanted.
Her cry of pleasure made him grin. Not that she’s going to stop me anytime soon.
He drove her to a second orgasm, then a third. Until, gasping, she dragged herself from his hands and collapsed on her back. Those beautiful breasts rose and fell, quivering sweetly.
“And where,” he asked in a silken voice, “do you think you’re going?”
Arial gave him a wild-eyed look. “Josiah, wait…”
“Nope.” He flipped her over onto her belly, dragged her beautiful ass into the air. “My turn.”
Then he drove his cock into her in one hard, delicious thrust. They both froze, shuddering at the sensation.
“Well,” she said at last, her voice strangled, “if you insist.”
Josiah laughed, the sound a little ragged, and began to work his way in and out of her hot, tight clasp. She felt so deliciously snug, so wet, he knew he’d never last. “God,” he gritted, “you’re sweet.”
She flung her head back, grinding her lushly curving backside against his hips. “I’m not sure…sweet is quite the word.”
He shuttered his eyes and fought to hold on against the clawing delight. “Yeah,” he panted. “Good point. Ahh! Sweet doesn’t do you justice at all.”
Arial hunched back, taking him in to the balls, milking him hard. Josiah could feel the tiny pulses as she began to come. With a growl, he let go, pounding into her in deep, ferocious thrusts that drew his balls tight as his cock jerked, then pumped jet after jet. He opened his mouth to bellow in pleasure…
Before the sound even left his mouth, energy shot from Arial, a hot blue crackle that arced into the center of his chest. The impact threw him backward just as an answering electric jolt shot from him. Just before he hit the back wall, he saw it strike her, heard her strangled shout.
And then he saw nothing at all.
SOMETHING was wrong.
Richard wasn’t sure what. Hell, he didn’t even know why he was so sure. But five years as Psych had taught him to listen to that little voice in the back of his head.
And it was definitely yammering now.
He went still, eyeing the entrance to the garage. The buzz of his instincts grew more frantic. For a moment, he could have sworn he heard female voices whispering, but he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.
Maybe he should beat a quick retreat and get Josiah. He’d feel a lot better with Tracker’s superpowered muscle at his back.
Thing was, when he’d walked past Jos’s room earlier, his friend had sounded…busy. Besides, he was Psych. He’d handled more than his share of pissed-off Hypers before without Tracker’s help. Including, come to think of it, Jos himself.
And what a memorable fight that had been.
He flattened his back against the wall, then sent the door rolling open with a flick of power.
Nothing. No ball of fire, no rampaging Hyper storming his way into the hall, no nothing. Richard darted a look around the door frame, but the room appeared empty of everything except a whole lot of expensive engineering.
Cautiously, he made his way inside. Not for the first time, he cursed the fact that other Hypers seemed to have a natural shielding against his telepathy. He’d have been able to sense an ordinary human hiding in the garage.
BOOOOOM!
The ear-splitting crash of rending metal made him jump.
BOOOM!
“What the fu—”
BOOOM!
It was coming from overhead. It sounded as if something was being slammed repeatedly into the hydraulic lift in the barn above.
Hay drifted lazily downward.
“Oh, hell.” The metal platform that formed the floor of the barn was actually bending, spilling the hay that disguised it into the garage.
BOOOM! He glimpsed what looked like the hood of a car, hammering one side of the platform until it bent like a foil pie plate.
A female head thrust through the opening, red hair spilling around a wickedly smiling face. “Why, it’s Psych! Hi, there, honey!”
“Shit,” Richard breathed. Then he lifted his voice into a desperate bellow. “Tracker! It’s Kali!”
CHAPTER SIX
Arial dreamed of a world with no trees, no grass, nothing but tearing winds a
nd forking lightning and stifling, brutal heat. Merciless heat that whipped the winds to speeds they’d never known before, convulsed the world into hurricanes. It was the heat that somehow frightened her most.
Something was wrong with the sun.
She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it out there, could sense it with the alien perceptions of her kind.
Some part of her recognized she was not human. In fact, she had no body at all. There were those who thought the race had physical forms once, but that was uncounted millennia ago. They were creatures of power now. Pure energy, riding the alien wind, drinking the lightning.
But all of their power could not save them from their swelling sun, as it grew and grew and licked greedily toward their world. They all knew they had at most a few more years before the sun engulfed the planet completely. Then Arial and all her kind would die.
But perhaps there was hope. One of the Wisest Ones had found another world within the range of a single Passage jump, an alien place yes, but around a comfortably stable sun. A world inhabited by beings of the flesh and blood they’d need in order to survive.
Humans, the aliens called themselves.
Without such bodies, the People would never be able to live on a planet so alien, with such a thin atmosphere and infrequent life-giving lightning.
The one problem was that so few of the humans were compatible hosts. Most had minds that were impenetrable to the People. For a time, all despaired.
Then the Wisest One identified a compatible human host and managed, with great effort, to open a Passage into his mind. Then he sought a second host for another of their kind. It was easier this time, requiring only a touch for the symbiote to make her Passage.
And so, one by one, the People fled their dying world.
Now it was Arial’s turn. She’d found the one she wanted, a big male, healthy and strong. Optimism singing in her heart, she leaped through the Passage into his mind.
And everything went wrong.
The host’s world was too alien, and so were his thoughts. She couldn’t make contact with his consciousness, no matter how she tried. She even took the form of the symbol she’d found in his mind—a tiger, it was called. To no avail.
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