by Abigail Owen
“Get in,” he ordered.
Unlike her fiancé who was ever the Southern gentleman, Shane did not open her door for her. He didn’t even wait for her before getting in himself. She didn’t dwell on his manners. Manners wouldn’t keep her safe. He could be broody and disapproving all day long. If it got her to the Kuharte meeting in one piece, she could deal.
She slipped into the passenger seat as he started the engine. Without a word, she strapped herself in.
Chapter Four
Shane squatted in front of a sleeping Tieryn and let his gaze roam unhindered over a woman so lovely he’d felt sucker-punched when the moonlight had illuminated the delicate planes of her face. He’d watched from his hiding spot on the side of the road and had kept quiet longer than planned until he’d had a moment to stuff that gut reaction down where it belonged.
Now he took the liberty to look his fill. Feline-slanted eyes and high cheekbones were softened by the pink bow of her lips. Black hair spilled over her pillow, in contrast to cream-colored skin that appeared silky smooth. His fingers itched to touch.
He frowned, baffled at his reaction to her. There was attraction—hard not to feel that punch of lust looking at this woman. But there was something more, a pull, like gravity, that he didn’t care to explore or entertain.
“Hey.” He gave her shoulder a shake. “Wake up.”
Her eyelids fluttered open and she gazed at him in sleepy confusion, but all he could think was Sky blue eyes.
Earlier, the dark had hidden the color from him. Once they’d reached the car, he’d driven them to Atlanta where they boarded a private jet provided by Zac. It had been nearly midnight when they’d taken off, headed for a destination in Canada, one Shane knew of because he’d lived with Zac’s Timik of polar bear shifters. They’d been his refuge and had welcomed him as one of their own.
Tieryn hadn’t even glanced twice at the plush custom leather interior of the plane or commented on how it had that new car smell, like most people did when they boarded private jets. Must be nice to be the Alpha’s daughter. She hadn’t chattered for the first few hours, thank God. In fact, she’d been pretty quiet, sitting away from him and staring out the window.
“Do you mind if I use the bed?” she’d eventually asked before heading back to a private room to get some sleep. She hadn’t come out since.
He watched now as awareness replaced confusion in her gaze.
“Where are we?” she murmured groggily.
“Canada. That’s all you need to know.” Inwardly he winced at how harsh his voice sounded. Pissed didn’t even begin to cover how angry and frustrated he’d been at having his plans thwarted. Still was. He knew he was taking it out on Tieryn but couldn’t help himself.
She blinked up at him for a moment.
He could practically see the decision matrix in her head weighing the options—did she address his rudeness? Or shut up and deal?
With a nod, she pushed herself to sitting.
Unwanted approval moved through him. Never bite the hand that feeds you or tick off the man protecting you. At least Tieryn McGraw seemed to be a sensible woman, even if she was a pampered princess.
Silence descended as the drone of the jets slowed and then stopped. She made no protest as he hustled her off the plane and into a waiting SUV.
“How much longer?” she asked as they pulled onto the main road out of the airport.
He shot her a glance but could discern no complaint, more like she was checking in. “What? You sick of me already, princess?”
“You’ve been such scintillating company thus far.”
Shane grunted, annoyed at the urge to smile at her snarky comment.
“And if you want to call me princess, expect to be treated like a servant.”
He barely caught the muttered words, and his lips twitched of their own accord. “I doubt you’d want my kind of servitude.”
“No kidding.” She paused. “So how long?”
His humor disappeared as she drew them back to the original question. “We’ve got several more hours by car. Then we’ve arranged a helicopter to take us the rest of what would have been a two hour hike.”
“Thank heaven for small mercies,” she sighed. He tossed her a wary glance when she turned in her seat to face him. “So we have two hours, huh?”
He frowned. “Yup.”
“What should we chat about?”
He’d been right to be wary. The woman had been blessedly silent this entire trip—granted she’d slept through a good many hours of it—but now she wanted to talk?
“I don’t chat.”
“How about a long, involved discussion?”
Now he caught the teasing lilt in her voice.
Wonderful. Tieryn was a cheerful waker. An unaccustomed answering devilry sparked inside him. He lowered his gaze to her smiling lips, allowing the heat he’d banked up till now to show. “If you need something to do with your mouth, I have better ideas.”
He watched with amusement as her smile wavered then slipped.
She didn’t answer his challenge—because that was exactly what those words had been. Had she called his bluff, he would have been willing to show her what he’d had in mind for those luscious lips. Instead, she switched topics.
“What happened to your ear?” she asked.
Shane’s amusement vanished as he stared at the road.
“I could heal it for you,” she continued, as though he weren’t stonewalling her. “If you’re interested.”
Shane battled with the pride that had held him strong for so long—a pride that dictated he never acknowledge his injury. At the same time, to be healed could only be to his advantage, his benefit. So why wasn’t he jumping all over her offer? He suspected his reluctance might have to do with admitting weakness in front of this woman. Which was absolute bullocks. He pushed the thought aside with a scowl.
“Right,” Tieryn murmured when he didn’t answer her. “Maybe another time. I can’t do it while you’re driving anyway.”
With that she turned away to face the window as she had in the plane. Her withdrawal cooled him like the chill one felt when the sun disappeared behind the clouds. That fact that he even noticed irritated him even more.
****
Tieryn shivered as the chill in the air seeped into her skin. Without a word, Shane reached over and fiddled with the controls until warm air filled the cabin of their SUV. She did her best to ignore the oddly thoughtful gesture and stared out the window at the passing scenery. Wherever they were in Canada, early spring here was lovely. Snow still covered the ground. Since snow didn’t happen often where she lived in Florida, she was used to green. In contrast, she found this stark landscape stunning. She was tempted to roll down the window and sample more of the crisp air. After the thick smell of vegetation in her home state, the subtle scent of pine was refreshing.
Not that she paid that much attention. No. Her mind still spun with the fact that just one heated look from Shane had her wanting to take him up on his ridiculous offer. She’d never reacted like that to a man before. Definitely never to a man whose purpose had been to bother her, and not in a “hot and bothered” kind of way. His goal had been to shut her up.
She had no idea what had prompted her to tease him as she had in the first place. The sullen shifter had been reticent to say the least during the course of their trip. She’d followed his lead and kept to herself.
When they’d boarded the plane and she got her first good look at his face, she struggled with her shock. Behind the animosity, long hair, and scruff was one of the best looking men she’d ever seen. A chiseled face and piercing blue eyes tempered by lips just this side of sensual put him off the scale as far as she was concerned. She blamed pheromones for her response. Chemistry had a lot to answer for.
She forced herself to ignore him at first, but had eventually escaped to the separate room on the plane that boasted a bed. Then, when she opened her eyes from a deep and dreamless slumber to find his face inches from h
ers, she’d barely resisted the urge to lay her hand on his cheek and feel the rasp of his salt and pepper stubble against her palms.
Now here she was, sitting in thick silence yet again. She had no idea what had driven her to bring up his scars. Perhaps the theory that his attitude was tied to his injury. The man was in pain—not the physical kind, and he’d never admit it—nonetheless, pain was the driving force behind one Mr. Shane Callahan.
Tieryn contained a small sigh. At least they only had a few more hours. Then she could ditch this man who made her feel more than she wanted while at the same time irritating her more than anyone she’d ever come across. She couldn’t wait to reach their destination.
****
Several hours later, she ducked under the whirling blades of the helicopter, holding her hair against the blast of wind created by the machine. Shane was right behind her as they ran across what looked to be an open field in the middle of nowhere. No buildings or roads were in sight and from the air. She’d seen only uninhabited land. Not even a caribou.
Consequently, she was dazed when a blond woman and a giant of a man appeared as though conjured. As Tieryn got closer, she could see a tunnel of sorts behind the couple.
In the quiet that settled in the wake of the helicopter’s departure, the woman held out her hand. “Tieryn? I’m Sarai Montclair.”
Which meant that the giant was Zac Montclair, the Seer’s polar bear shifter husband. Interesting. Speculation had wound among her father’s top people that this thing with Kuharte rights would never have happened if Sarai and Zac hadn’t entered into a relationship. Tieryn got the impression that many of the Alphas of the Shadowcat Nation were furious about it. Until just recently, they’d dictated who Kuharte married.
After shaking hands, and watching with shock as Zac embraced Shane and didn’t get his head ripped off, she followed her hosts into the tunnel. The door lowered behind them, like a garage, but as part of the ceiling.
“First let’s get you settled in your rooms,” Sarai said, as they walked through an underground labyrinth of tunnels illuminated by fluorescent lights, which gave off a low hum. “I have clothes you can borrow.”
Tieryn gave her a grateful smile. A shower and fresh clothes sounded heavenly after two days of hiking, flying, and driving in the ones she had on.
“Any trouble?” Zac murmured to Shane a few paces ahead.
“No.”
Zac nodded.
Tieryn frowned. Had her father asked that question, he wouldn’t have accepted a simple no as an answer. He would have demanded details, but Zac didn’t appear to need more. Tieryn could see the respect the two men shared for each other in the way they talked. Perhaps more communication than that wasn’t necessary.
“Here we are,” Sarai said. “This is a suite. We’ll let you decide who takes which room.”
Tieryn swung away from her perusal of the rooms to stare at Sarai in bewilderment. “Sorry?”
Zac and Sarai exchanged a glance. “The bodyguards for each Kuharte will live in the suites with them as a precautionary measure,” Zac explained.
Tieryn relaxed. “I see. When will I meet mine?”
Another glance passed between the couple. “Shane will remain your bodyguard throughout the conference,” Sarai said.
“Oh,” she uttered. Tieryn didn’t curse a lot, but she sure as hell wanted to right about then.
Chapter Five
Zula stared out the window at the barren landscape of the Mojave Desert as she considered what she was about to do, about to order. Decades of planning, first by her mother, and now by her, had brought her to this moment. Years during which they’d waged a strategic and painstaking war on any shifters who tried to get in their way—particularly those damn cougars.
A breeze lifted the sheer white curtains in a gentle dance. The building in which she’d been living for the last few years was made of sand and sorcery—a throwback to the ancient castles in the deserts of the Middle East. It served its purpose in housing those of her army located on this continent.
They wouldn’t be here much longer, though, and she wouldn’t have to endure this view after today. This place was nothing like her home. Where she’d been born was more…lush, for lack of a better word, than this brown, burnt land. To live in this desert, after the magical beauty of Africa, would take adjustment.
Granted, once they took occupation of the southwestern region of the United States, along with most of Mexico, they wouldn’t be living in this area but in a varied topography which more resembled what they were used to, which brought some consolation. As long as this land provided a better life for her people—one where survival was assumed, not hoped for—she could endure more than homesickness.
A knock at her door pulled her focus from the outside world. “Come in,” she called.
She wasn’t surprised to see the lanky form of Edward, one of her truest servants, enter the room. She didn’t have to bother with bewitching this man with a smile. He would follow her regardless.
“The Generals have all checked in,” he informed her.
“And?”
“All is ready. They await your orders to move.”
She gave a sharp nod. “I shall be out in a moment.”
He bowed himself out of the room. She waited to hear the quiet click of the door.
“I’m here, child,” a honeyed voice murmured from the corner behind the bed just as Zula had drawn breath to call her.
She spun around to find a woman standing there, a goddess of her homeland, but one who had yet to reveal her name. Zula didn’t care, as long at the deity continued to help. The goddess could have been her mirror image—tall and slender, dressed in a non-descript black pants and top. Zula didn’t let the goddess’s unassuming appearance fool her. She, herself, was dressed in an equally bland black sheath of a dress. Her goal today was to be felt but not seen, a difficult task for a Seducer. She was fully aware of how striking her appearance was to others—played on it at every opportunity, in fact—but not when mountain lions were involved. She’d kept her identity secret so far, and she intended it to remain so.
“All is ready,” she repeated Edward’s words to the woman before her.
The goddess brushed back one of the curtains to stare out the window. “What do the ravens say?”
“They report everyone is gathered where I want them. Shall we?” She motioned to the door. Satisfaction thrummed through her. Today she would end this war. The time couldn’t have come too soon as far as she was concerned. Wars, famine, and human poaching diminished her people daily. They needed this land if they were to survive the next years, let alone decades or centuries.
She stopped when the goddess held up a hand to stay her. “Before we do, are you positive this is what you want?”
More irritation. She hid it behind a confident smile. “Of course.”
Eyes an unusual shade of purple flashed. “You are certain no peaceful means can be found to achieve the same end?”
Zula slashed her hand through the air. “None. Even if there were—” She snapped her mouth shut.
But the goddess had caught her small lapse in self-control. “Yes?”
Zula tipped her chin up and pulled her shoulders back. “My father tried that. He was killed for his efforts.”
She forced herself to remember the image of the mangled pieces of his body every day. The gruesome sight helped her move forward and push past doubts on the rare occasions she entertained any. The mountain lion shifters and their allies had brought this on themselves. Her concern now was for her people—lion shifters from the plains and savannahs of Africa—and them alone.
“Is our captive under control?” the woman asked.
Instead of taking offense, Zula gave her a small smile. “Yes, though he battles against my…efforts. As agreed, I will take you to him now.”
The goddess nodded, a gesture made beautiful by the long, slender beauty of her neck.
“Shall we?” Zula asked.
In answer, the woman crossed the room, and together they exited. In the hallway stood two bearded lions. The one with the impressive black mane was Edward, who’d shifted after he’d left her. The other, a maneless male with a jagged scar that sliced through one eye now cloudy with blindness, was Beno. The two men served her as bodyguards, among other things.
They both took their places on either side of her as they made their way through the twisting, dark passageways, down into the basements. She shivered as the chill of the underground rooms sank into her skin, but ignored her discomfort. They wouldn’t be here long. She led the way to where a single man was held in a small cell. They hadn’t bothered with chains as Zula held him by sheer will.
She paused in front of the door and unleashed a potent wave of her power on him. Her father had once asked her what it felt like, because the act was invisible. She’d likened it to a drug that is dispersed on currents of the air, which, once inhaled, gave her a certain power over that individual. Satisfied that her prisoner was still in her control, Zula stepped aside.
The woman stepped forward, and a satisfied smile graced her full lips.
“Oyandone,” she greeted.
“What are you doing here?” came the croaked reply, revulsion dripped in every syllable.
“It’s been a long time, my friend.”
“We were never friends that I recall.” His growled response was slurred from the effect Zula was having on him.
The goddess laughed, though the sound was chilling rather than warm. “Of course.” With that, she turned to Zula and nodded.
They made their way back up to ground level and out into a courtyard surrounded on all sides by the sandy walls of their home.
Zula looked over at the woman beside her. “If today goes well, he will be yours to do with what you wish. As agreed.”
She caught the small flash of anger in the goddess’s eyes. It must be difficult for a deity to be beholden to a human, even one with the powers Zula possessed. That knowledge gave her a flicker of satisfaction.
“Ready?” the goddess asked.
Zula nodded. She’d been ready for years.