The Rainmaker (Saga of the Chosen Book 2)

by Petra Landon

  At the last second, the hand on her shoulder seemed to exert subtle pressure to break her fall. Scrabbling madly, Tasia ended up sprawled ungainly over the man, her head tucked into his shoulder. Before she could recover from the near save or catch her breath, he growled again. A low, almost feral, sound rumbled from deep within his chest. Sprawled across him, she could feel the vibrations of the growl all the way from her stomach and chest to the cheek that lay against his warm flesh.

  She shivered convulsively, paralyzed by fear, but only for a moment. He breathed deep, the muscles rippling under her. It served to remind her of the danger. Tasia scrambled, renewing her struggle to be free, fear lending wings to her. Using her hands and upper body for leverage, she tried to slide over to the side, only for him to clasp her by the shoulder again and drag her back to him. Heart pounding with trepidation, she raised her head to glance at the face in shadows. Finally, her terrified eyes beheld the other prisoner, the man in the cage who had subdued her with such little effort to leave her powerless.

  A strong face of hard angles and planes with a sharp blade of a nose and thick tawny hair that clung to his skull met her eyes. A familiar good-looking face with the softness leached out of it. In the ill light, all she could discern were the mysterious shadows and plays of light on the handsome face. But it was him. Ironically, his white shirt glowed like a beacon in the darkness, while his face reposed in the shadows. As Tasia paused her struggles to gawk at him in amazement, the man’s eyes opened abruptly to pin her with a gold-eyed stare.

  It’s the Alpha — oh, thank God!

  Tasia’s eyes closed in relief as she let herself slump over his chest, clinging to him without conscious thought. The fright seeped out of her like it had never been, and her heart slowed down its wild hammering to a steadier one. Thank you, thank you, thank you — her mind repeated the silent refrain to whoever watched over her. There was still the cage, and the mysterious circumstances to face, but she was not alone anymore. He was here with her — the confident, strong-willed and arrogant man who never let anything stand in his way.

  Another low growl interrupted her thoughts. She felt the subtle vibrations again, as she had before, but this time, it brought no fear. Instead, it puzzled Tasia. She opened her eyes, to grip his shirt, using that to pull herself up over him and meet his gaze. The gold eyes were zeroed on her, the glitter in them pronounced. The remarkable eyes were narrowed, the gold depths bright with an unfamiliar light she could see clearly, despite the near darkness.

  “Alpha.” She addressed him softly, puzzled by the stormy expression in the familiar eyes.

  His clasp of her tightened subtly. This time, Tasia didn’t resist as he dragged her pliant body to bring her closer, his eyes never moving from her. This close to him, she could see the flecks of gold that surrounded the black core, the pupil dilated, while the depths burned with a fierce, almost savage, light.

  “Alpha” she squeaked again, flummoxed by the lack of recognition in his eyes.

  The low growl rumbled again, deeper this time, the vibrations washing over her for she lay smack on him. This time, it was almost a snarl. The gold depths flared, a kind of wildness taking root, the eyes devouring her with an expression that alarmed her. Tasia felt the first frisson of fear uncurl itself somewhere deep in her belly. This is the Alpha, she reminded herself calmly. Perhaps, he’s simply disoriented, like she’d been when she had first awakened.

  “It’s Tasia” she reminded him, shoving her misgivings aside.

  The gold eyes flickered once, but the almost feral expression in them did not abate. Her eyes searched hopefully for any sign of recognition in their depths, but they stared back at her almost malevolently.

  What’s going on here? Is he hurt or perhaps drugged, like I was?

  “We’re locked in a cage” she whispered to him. “We need to get out.”

  His eyes moved, flickering over her head in response. He must have caught sight of the bars over them for he lashed out suddenly with his leg. Sprawled over him precariously, Tasia could feel every movement of the powerful body. An almighty thud shook the cage as his leg collided hard with the metal bars. The gold eyes blinked, their depths darkening subtly. Still hung over him awkwardly, Tasia was witness to the slow dawning of realization in his eyes. The hand gripping her shoulder released her abruptly to reach for the bars to the side. He shoved against the bars, upper-arm muscles bunching and the cords in his neck rippling with the effort. A soft hiss escaped him and he withdrew his hand hurriedly, the gold eyes flashing to his palm with a grimace. Tasia craned her neck to see what he was looking at but the arm anchoring her at the waist tightened around her. He hit out at the bar again, only to withdraw with another hiss of pain. Tasia could now feel the quickening in the even rise of his chest. He was starting to breathe hard, his leg and arm lashing out at the bars rhythmically, his efforts only drawing soft hisses of what sounded like agony at every attempt. The eyes transformed — ferocious and trapped, akin to that of a cornered animal frantic to find a way out.

  Witness to the changing emotions in the gold depths, Tasia felt a sense of urgency assail her. This was not mere confusion or discomfort or disorientation — something was very wrong with him, and it stumped her. It was almost as if he didn’t know who she was. His unresponsiveness to her, the almost feral light in the gold eyes, the dilated pupils, his harsh handling of her like a ragdoll — everything pointed to something terrible and impending. The gold eyes seemed unfocused, wild, frantic and cornered, a far cry from the composed, self-possessed, distant and inscrutable Alpha. Confusion and bemusement mingled with a sense of foreboding in Tasia. That it was the Alpha, who struggled ineffectually, the gold eyes wild and ferocious, his attempts to beat the cage frantic, while completely oblivious to her presence, filled Tasia with dread. This was the man with the fanatical, unrelenting, and absolute control. She’d seen him stare down dire threats and go up against deadly adversaries without once losing an ounce of restraint. To see him lose even a portion of his self-possession was an incongruous and dreadful sight. The Shifter with the iron-will and unyielding control could never be rattled by anything garden variety, she knew. The very realization filled her with heart-pounding terror. But as the familiar cold gold-colored eyes burned with confusion and desperation, Tasia took a deep breath to shove aside her own fears. Something terrible was happening here — the man she knew disappearing, going under, slowly but inexorably. She had to halt it — there was no one else to help him.

  “What is it?” she asked, trying to get his attention. “I don’t understand, Alpha.”

  The wild eyes darted frenetically, almost as if her presence no longer registered with him.

  “Alpha, it’s, Tasia. Alpha!”

  The cage continued to rattle periodically as he kicked at the bars forcefully. With every powerful swing, the cage rocked from side to side, causing Tasia to slide uncontrollably over him. A particularly strong jolt had her almost thrown off him to strike the metal bars. She reached for him, instinctively trying to hold on to keep from sliding off. But the rocking cage had her off balance. Her palm lost its grip on his shirt, sliding off to brush the skin around his neck. The skin was warm under her palm. He went rigid at the touch, the gold eyes swinging to her, his clasp of her tightening. At the look in his eyes, Tasia’s breath hitched, fear grasping her in a vice grip.

  “What’s happening to you?” she cried desperately. “Tell me, please! Alpha …. Alpha.”

  Abruptly, his lips parted. A deafening roar filled the room, echoing off the walls. Tasia cringed, burrowing into him to drown out the sound of him roaring like a wounded beast. As the echoes reverberated around her, Tasia recognized the roar. A series of nightmarish images slammed into her. A ramshackle barn, with a rough bed of hay her only cover, where the cold seeped into her bones to leave her shivering. A lonely and terrifying struggle, fighting to control her beast from taking over, weak from starvation and cold, silver shackles imprisoning her, while a blue-eyed witch
plied dark magic to bring her to breaking point.

  He’s losing control of his beast.

  And, just like that, Tasia knew what ailed him. The realization filled her with equal parts dread and relief. Yet, the images continued to bombard her, drowning her with nightmarish memories from the shed. Grimly determined, she struggled to bat the dark flashes away. Focus, she admonished herself, you cannot surrender. He needs you. You have to rise above the nightmares!

  To expel the nightmarish images, Tasia focused on the warmth of his skin under her palm and the soft huffs of his breath that stirred her hair. He was struggling, fighting to not lose his self, a struggle she was uncannily familiar with. In a strange coincidence, she was not unacquainted with this particular Wyr battle. As the images of the shed receded slowly, she reminded herself that she was in a unique position to appreciate the Alpha’s tussle. It hardened her resolve, giving her the fortitude to shove away her fear. For once, the nightmares she so dreaded would be crucial. Without them, she, a Wizard who had lived as a Si’ffa until the Lair, would have no idea what ailed him or even what such a struggle signified to a Wyr.

  Something has happened to him — something so catastrophic it’s brought the Shifter with the uber control to the edge of losing it.

  She nudged the thought and her astonishment away for later. This was not the time to ponder the whats and the hows. Those mysteries would have to wait. Right now, he stood too close to the precipice. He had to be prevented from going over. All they had was each other. She had to bring him back from the brink, or all would be lost. He would be lost.

  “Alpha” she said softly, trying to reach him, even as the echoes of the roar still lingered in the room.

  Her hand touched his face to draw his attention to her. “It’s Tasia. I need your help.”

  The gold eyes swung to her, wild and feral, but a desperate Tasia had cleverly used the one ploy that might get through to him. A cry for assistance. To the man who had always heeded it from her.

  “Help me, please!”

  For a moment, she thought her cry had reached him, her plea for assistance had made it through. Then, his eyes swung to the palm that cradled his cheek, an aggressive jut to his chin that had Tasia’s heart skip a beat.

  Shape-shifters are some of the most dangerous of the Chosen — human and beast engaged in a constant struggle to keep the other in check. Shifters unable to keep their beast under control go feral and are killed by their Pack. Be very wary of a wounded Shifter — he is at his most vulnerable then for that is when the human is not in complete control of the beast.

  Her father’s words rung in her ears, a timely reminder of the threat she faced — a powerful Wyr half out of his mind, his formidable self-control on the verge of collapse. If the human succumbed to the beast, the leashed darkness she’d glimpsed in him would be released. The beast would wreak havoc. Imprisoned with him, with nowhere to go, she’d be the first casualty. She would be savaged. Terror assailed Tasia, but only for a moment. Tamping it down firmly, she admonished herself with another timely reminder. This man had come to her aid countless times. At the Blutsauger nest in San Francisco, refusing to give her up despite the overwhelming Vampire horde. From the Vampire Mistress, despite Tasia being less than candid with him. From the Guardian at the Registry, after she’d rejected his Pack to walk away. In Chicago, from the Vampires; in San Francisco, from the Vampires. So many times. So many debts to repay. She knew that he’d reject her terming his efforts as debts, but he’d saved her life, protected her, defended her, made a place for her in his Pack, and guarded her secrets; a bulwark against the rest of the world. Whenever she’d needed it the most, he had stood up for her. He’d enabled her to leave the shadows and venture into the light. This man had been both her only hope and her most feared adversary. Through all the ebbs and flows, he had never walked away from her. She would not either, she pledged silently. Wounded or not, in his senses or not, he was the same man who had refused to abandon her. Repeatedly.

  “Alpha” she tried again, trying to stay calm.

  “It’s Tasia.”

  “Alpha!”

  “Please, Alpha.”

  There was an increasing edge to her desperate cries. He seemed to respond to it, to a degree — puzzled, concerned even, despite his own silent struggles, but not enough to walk back from the edge he teetered on.

  “It’s Tasia. Alpha!”

  Holding her panic at bay with grim determination, a desperate Tasia, frantic to get through to him, threw everything but the kitchen sink at him.

  What is it he calls me? Witch …

  “It’s the witchling” she cried, beside herself. “The witchling is in danger, Alpha.”

  Abruptly, so abruptly it caught Tasia completely off guard, the big body thrashing under her went still. The furious rattling of the cage paused, as the wild gold-colored eyes swung to her. The gold depths hinted at his frenzied grappling with himself.

  The lips parted again. Tasia braced herself for another roar, like the one that had heralded the struggle between his human and beast counterparts. What came out instead was a croak, a guttural word that was barely human.

  “W .. itc .. h .. ling.”

  “Yes.” Tasia clambered over him, oblivious to everything else. “Witchling. Your witchling.”

  She grasped handfuls of his shirt, to throw all caution to the wind, her eyes holding the feral gold-colored ones to plead with him urgently. “It’s the witchling, Alpha. Help me! Please, come back.”

  Later she was to realize that she should have been terrified of him. She’d always known that if released from his rigid leash, he’d blaze through like a raging fire to raze everything in his path, an unstoppable and terrible force. The only thing to hold him in check was the absolute control that characterized him. There had been moments when the Alpha, even with his phenomenal control intact, had scared the wits off Tasia. Yet now, with him barely in check, she lost all fear of him. There was only a sense of urgency to save him before he lurched beyond the point of return. Her instincts told Tasia that she stood in no danger — not from him, anyway. No matter how much he lost himself, this man would never harm her. But he’d be condemned to die if he lost this battle, by Wyr tradition. She had to bring him back.

  Puzzlement seeped slowly into the gold eyes that tangled with hers, breaking through the wildness that had been dominant before.

  “We’re captives” she said softly, afraid to say the wrong thing now that she’d finally broken through to him. “I’m afraid.” Her voice quivered. “Please, come back.”

  “Wi .. tch .. ling” he said again, less gutturally this time. There seemed to be almost a query in the single word.

  With grim tenacity, Tasia tried doggedly to recall details from her nightmares, the horrible dreams that left her sweating and terrified in the aftermath. What was it that she feared the most in the shed, she asked herself. The thought of losing herself, alone and weak in a barn, reduced to an animal by a witch who thought nothing of stripping the soul from a Shifter. And, Tasia knew what she had to do.

  She reached for his hand, her eyes never leaving his. Human contact would help, remind him of what he was fighting for and let him know that he wasn’t alone in his solitary struggle. She brought his unresisting palm to her cheek, hoping it would encourage him to fight harder.

  “Come back, please” she pleaded, nuzzling her cheek into the calloused palm, her eyes holding his.

  The gold eyes flickered to his hand cradling her cheek.

  “Please” she begged frantically.

  He seemed calmer, less frenzied. The gold eyes had lost some of their former wildness — less feral, more focused on her. Or was it just wishful thinking? Please, please, she begged silently in a mindless rhythm. Time seemed to hold still, a never-ending loop of hope and desperation where she pleaded, begged, cajoled and appealed, holding his gaze and using her voice and the touch of her skin to bring him back, inch by inch, from the precipice he stood on.

&nb
sp; Finally, the palm she held to her cheek seemed to come to life, the fingers curling to cup her face where he’d been passive before. With a sob of relief, Tasia let go of his palm.

  “Witchling?” he asked, this time clearly bemused by her presence.

  “Yes, Alpha.” Relief and fear mingled together to render her hoarse voice to a mere whisper.

  His eyes flickered over her head to the bars. Tasia could sense the wildness start to surge back in him again.

  He’s claustrophobic, she recalled. His body had thrummed with tension during the elevator ride deep into the bowels of The Vault in New York City.

  “Alpha.” She cupped his face gently, using it to draw his eyes back to her.

  For a long moment, pleading gray eyes stared into confused gold ones; the girl desperate to reach the man she suspected was losing himself, and the man finally cognizant of how close to the brink he stood to losing everything and annihilating himself.

  “Witchling?” His voice grew stronger as he fought with everything in him to keep the beast roaring in his head from taking over.

  The beast would terrify her, a voice whispered in his head, attempting to bargain with his counterpart. The human would keep the witchling safe. The beast, well, who knew what the beast would do?

  “We have to get out, Alpha.”

  The gold eyes narrowed on her, the hand cradling her face urging her closer. They were so close now that she could see every minute change reflected in the depths of the gold eyes. Deep in the depths, kindling seemed to catch fire, the flames blazing into life. Puzzled, Tasia tried to decipher the subtle change in him. Something, a hint or a trick of light, had Tasia draw breath with a muted gasp. The hand on her face slid down to the nape, the fingers splayed to hold her. Her eyes widened as light flared in the remarkable eyes, reflecting the fire underneath. He ignored the bars to focus single-mindedly on her, the gold eyes glittering fiercely. The confusion lurking in their depths had been swept away, replaced by a different kind of wildness. Tasia’s heart quickened, triggered not by fear, but a different emotion.