The Immortals II: Michael

by Cynthia Breeding

  “Ah, you flatter me,” he said and slanted his mouth over hers, teasing her lips with his tongue until she made a mewling noise deep in her throat and opened to him.

  Sophie hardly noticed how he back-walked her to the tree. Strangely, the bark didn’t feel rough as he pressed her back and unbuttoned her shirt, his hands cupping and kneading her breasts. He bent his head to take a nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking back and forth over the tip before he turned his attention to the other and suckled it thoroughly. Warm tropical air fanned over the wet nipple that he’d just laved and her spine began to tingle where the trunk touched her. Michael’s hard, hot cock brushed against her belly. When had he unzipped his pants and pulled her shorts down?. His mouth claimed hers again, taking and demanding, as he spread her legs and lifted one thigh over his.

  “Keep your eyes open for this,” Michael whispered.

  Sophie grasped his shoulders and then gasped as his thick erection

  filled her. The sensation of being partially clothed, yet totally vulnerable was incredible. She rocked her hips against him, wanting him deeper. He responded with slower, more leisurely thrusts, making her ache even more for him, but she had learned that this pace would make her body nearly insatiable and the climax would be earth-shattering. As their bodies found their natural rhythm, Sophie looked up to see the tree’s branches begin to sway in unison, the leaves fluttering as though a gale were whipping through.

  “The tree—“

  “Shhh,” Michael murmured, “just enjoy.”

  Their auras blended, becoming one. Sophie stared in awe over Michael’s shoulder as rainbow hues swirled around them. The hues intensified as he thrust harder and deeper, the reds and oranges glowing like fire. She could feel the inferno building inside her too, the torrid flames leaping higher and higher, making her skin super-sensitive—and then, just as the inferno spilled over her like molten lava, white light exploded from the tree, surrounding them both, blinding her with its brightness as the world swirled around her with dizzying speed.

  Slowly, she became aware that she was sitting on the ground, propped up against the tree. There was no wind, but the oak was now just a burnt stub of a trunk. “What—what happened?” she asked.

  Michael smiled and held up the sword. “This,” he said.

  * * * *

  They arrived back at the hotel just before dusk, Excalibur locked securely in the leather-covered steel case that Smith had given them. “I want to get this into the hotel safety vault right away,” Michael said as the valet drove their car away. “Then I’ll call Smith and tell him to send his pilot for us first thing in the morning. The sooner we get back to Dallas, the better I’ll feel.”

  “Me, too. I’m going to go up and tell Pendragon the good news.”

  “Don’t take too long. I’ll meet you out front. We can walk to the Market and grab a bite.”

  Sophie nodded and took the elevator up to their floor. “Good news!” she said as entered the suite.

  “It’s about time,” the dragon replied after she’d finished her story. “It will be good to see that sword again. I helped forge it, you know.”

  “I guess I’m not surprised,” she said with a smile. “I knew there had to be some reason you were sent here besides supposedly protecting me.”

  “I haven’t done much in that category at this size,” Pendragon grumbled.

  “I’m sure you’ll be able to return your regular size once we get back,” Sophie soothed.

  “Damn right. And there’s still that little matter of Sigurd to square away. Has he been seen here?”

  “I think so,” Sophie replied. “There’s been some sort of strange lightning out by Grand Isle and Grand Terre.”

  “Just wait until I get my claws into him,” Pendragon said. “He won’t be terrorizing humans anymore.”

  Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t that what you were doing when you first arrived? If I remember correctly, you rather enjoyed frightening humans to within an inch of their lives.”

  The dragon looked sheepish—or at least as sheepish as something covered in metal scales and spikes could look. “Well, that was before I discovered that humans made ice cream.”

  Sophie laughed and got up from the couch where she’d been sitting. “Okay. You just have to stay small a little longer. We’ll fly back to Big D tomorrow morning. I’ll bring you some ice cream when we get back from dinner.”

  She rode the elevator down and started to cross the almost empty lobby and then she noticed the crowd of people on the sidewalk out front. An ambulance, lights flashing, pulled to a stop.

  “What’s happened?” she asked the nearest bystander, trying to see through the crowd for Michael. Maybe he was still with the security people?

  “Hit and run,” a middle-aged woman said in a hushed whisper that still sounded somewhat excited. “This nice-looking man—well, he was really good-looking, like a movie star or something—anyway, he was standing on the sidewalk and this car with its windows tinted all black came careening down Decatur, hopped the curb—“

  But Sophie was gone, pushing her way through the throng. “Let me pass! That’s my friend!” She gave a final shove and broke through. Michael was being placed on a stretcher and she rushed to his side. She picked up his hand, but he didn’t respond.

  “How badly is he hurt?” she asked.

  “Broken ribs for sure,” the medic answered. “Probably a concussion. The ER will check for internal injuries.” He pried her hand away gently so they could slide the gurney into the ambulance. He’ll be at Tulane if you want to follow us.”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll get my car.”

  She watched for a moment more as the ambulance hit its siren and sped off. It was hard to believe that Michael was hit. She’d always thought of him as some invincible hero, but now he was hurt. Concussions could be really dangerous, especially if there was head swelling. Her legs began to shake and her body trembled.

  A strong male arm grasped hers, steadying her. “Are you all right?”

  She looked up into the blue eyes of a college kid with curly blond hair, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. “Yes, thanks.”

  “That was your friend?” he asked.

  “Yes. And I’m fine,” she said as he continued to hold onto her. “I’ve got to get my car to go to the hospital.”

  “You don’t look fine. You’re pale and you’re sweating. Signs of shock. You shouldn’t be driving.”

  “You look a little young to be a doctor,” Sophie said wishing she really didn’t feel so shaky.

  He smiled, which made him look even younger. “Maybe I will be one day. But hey, my car’s right here.” He pointed to the drive where a valet stood beside a vintage Mustang. “The hospital is just a few blocks away. If you trust me, I’ll give you a ride.”

  She knew she shouldn’t trust a stranger, but this was a friendly college kid—and there were plenty of people around. Someone who had ill intentions wouldn’t want to have a lot of witnesses. She did feel a little dizzy and she certainly knew the signs of shock. The kid was right. She shouldn’t be driving.

  “Well, okay. Thanks.”

  “Great,” he said as they walked to his car and the valet helped her in. “I’ll have you there in no time.” He buckled up, then put the car in drive.

  “I’m really glad to meet you, Sophie,” he said as they pulled out of the hotel driveway. “My name is Lucien.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Hi, Lucien,” Sophie said as they swung into traffic and then stopped, a

  cold chill running down her spine. “How did you know my name?”

  He smiled. “Relax. Your boyfriend called your name before he passed out.

  When you showed up, I assumed you were Sophie.”

  “Oh.” That made sense. The Mustang made a right turn and Sophie

  glanced at the street sign. Tulane Avenue. Well, they were on the right road. This was just a nice college kid, helping her out. She was only worried an
d jittery because Michel was hurt.

  A short distance later, the assorted buildings of the University hospital and

  the clinics came into view. She breathed a sigh of relief as Lucien slowed the car down and turned into an adjacent lot to park the car.

  “Thanks so much,” she said, reaching for the door handle. “I really

  appreciate your help.”

  “No problem,” Lucien said and leaned over to pull the door closed.

  “There’s just one more thing, though.”

  “What?” Sophie asked uneasily, aware that although he wasn’t touching

  her, she was trapped between the seat and his body.

  “Just this,” he said.

  Sophie felt the sharp sting of a hypodermic needle in her arm. Her vision

  began to blur and she struggled to open the door, but her arms were sluggish as though weighed down with bricks. She started to scream, but her throat closed and her tongue felt thick.

  Lucien put the car back in gear. “The effects will wear off in about an

  hour,” he said, “but you may wish they didn’t.”

  Then he laughed.

  * * * *

  Dimly, Michael was aware of voices around him. He tried to

  remember what happened. He’d been standing on the sidewalk, waiting for Sophie— The car! His warlock adroitness had discerned the danger seconds too late, which meant the car had been warded. Balor’s work no doubt, but Michael hadn’t sensed the heavy, black power that hung in Balor’s aura. The driver had been human, which was good or he’d probably have more than broken ribs.

  He squinted, slowly opening his eyes to a glaring white light overhead.

  Colors swirled around him as he tried to focus. He was attached to some kind of machine.

  “He’s wakening,” a female voice said briskly.

  A man in a white coat bent over him, shining an obnoxious flashlight into

  his eyes. “No dilation,” the doctor said, “but I still think we should do an MRI.”

  He was in the hospital. Now he remembered the ambulance and the sound

  of Sophie’s voice drifting toward him. An MRI was out of the question; they’d find out he wasn’t totally human. His ribs were almost totally mended too. There wasn’t a logical answer he could give to that.

  “No MRI,” he said distinctly as he began to sit up.

  “Lie still. You’ve had a concussion,” the doctor said with a firm hold on his shoulder.

  Michael’s head was totally clear, but he did as the doctor asked. “I really feel fine,” he said. “No MRI. I—I’m claustrophobic.”

  “We can give you a Valium,” the doctor replied.

  He did not need to be taking drugs. They’d limit the control he had on his powers. Michael shook his head and sent a telepathic message. Since the doctor was concentrating on him, the message went through easily. “Nope. Don’t do drugs.”

  The doctor hesitated, frowning. “All right. We’ll keep you for observation for a few hours.”

  “I need to make a phone call then,” Michael said.

  “Sorry,” the nurse replied. “Cell phones aren’t allowed in the ER.”

  He sighed, wishing he could just get up and walk out, but that would call too much attention to himself. He gave the nurse an appreciative look and smiled. “I understand. Could you make the call for me from a landline?” When she agreed, he gave her the hotel number and a message for Sophie. A few minutes later, he was alone, except for the machine that monitors his vital signs. Thankfully, those were all human.

  As he pushed himself into a sitting position, something niggled at the back of his mind. Why wasn’t Sophie out in the waiting room? He was sure she had been there on the street. Surely, someone would have told her where he was taken. He closed his eyes, envisioning the hotel room, seeking a mind-link.

  Pendragon picked up his telepathic signal. “What’s going on? Where are you?”

  “At a hospital. Never mind that. Where’s Sophie?”

  “Don’t know. She came up here to tell me about the sword, then said she was going down to meet you. She said she’d bring me some ice cream.”

  “Forget about the ice cream for a minute. What time is it?”

  “Nine o’clock. Why?”

  He’d been in the ER a little over an hour. Where in the hell was Sophie?

  He stretched his mind-link, searching the surrounding area. Nothing. It was like she disappeared into thin air.

  Then the hair along his nape began to prickle, always a sign of imminent danger. He looked around the room, probed the hall with his mind. Nothing there. But still…

  And then, faintly as though from a great distance, he felt Sophie’s presence, accompanied by a thick, murky, dense fog. Balor. Dear Goddess, the demon had Sophie!

  Michael began tearing off the various pads that were attached to him.

  Machines beeped and he could hear footsteps running down the hall toward him. He muttered an incantation, cloaking himself from human sight, as he slipped out the door as two nurses brushed past him.

  And then he heard Sophie scream.

  * * * *

  Pendragon was waiting for him when Michael burst through the hotel door, the steel case holding Excalibur under his arm.

  “Do you know where she is?” he asked.

  Michael shook his head. “I got a small impression that she was north of here and then the mind-link went black. She may be unconscious. We’ve not time to lose. Get into your cage so we can leave.”

  Pendragon snorted smoke. “I’d be a hell of a lot more effective if I could return to my original form.”

  “I’m going to summon Tanio,” Michael said, “but we need to be outside when he appears. I don’t want to have to deal with the police finding a full-grown dragon and blown out walls.”

  Michael screeched the brakes to a stop a short time later as they drove into the city park past the fairgrounds. “This will have to do,” he said as he opened Pendragon’s cage. “Thank the Goddess it’s dark.” Chanting an incantation, he lifted Excalibur high.

  “Tanio, I summon thee!”

  * * * *

  When Sophie slowly awakened it was to the sensation of lying on damp grass. She could hear water lapping nearby, but it lacked the salt smell of the Gulf. Ponchartrain, she thought groggily as she opened her eyes to dim light. They must be in a very secluded area for it to be so quiet and dark. As she struggled to sit, she felt a metal chain hit her arm and realized that she also had a metal collar around her neck. Lifting the chain, she followed its length a short distance to a stake driven into the earth. She was chained like a dog.

  A chuckle sounded from behind her. Twisting around, she saw three men not far away. One of them was Lucien, another was the kid that had been on the Charleston street and again on the boat. The third man was deep in the shadows, but it was he who spoke.

  “You did well, brother,” he said. “She’s a fine-looking piece of ass. I think we’ll wait just a bit until her brain is fully functioning before we take turns screwing her. I want her to feel the full impact.”

  Her muddled brain tried to absorb that information. “You…want to rape me?” She looked from one young man to the other. “Why? Either of you could have your pick of girls your age—“

  The shadow man laughed again. ‘Well, maybe Landon could pick up a girl his age, but you have no idea how old Lucifer is.”

  Lucifer? His name was Lucien. Wasn’t it? Lucifer was the devil—Her blood chilled. The guy in the shadows had called him brother. Was he… Balor? Demons had her! She tugged frantically at the steel collar, but it held fast.

  Balor stepped out of the shadows and walked toward her, adjusting the patch over his eye. “You’ll be needing this to unlock the collar,” he said as he held up a key, “but we’re not ready for that just yet. First, we’ll have a little fun.” He reached down to jerk the chain, sending Sophie sprawling face-down into the grass. Balor placed his boot between her splayed legs.
“Don’t make this too easy for us, okay?” He laughed as she scrambled away. “That’s better. The reason you aren’t bound is because we—at least Lucifer and I do—like a woman with a little fight in her. Regrettably, for you, you won’t be able to get too far away.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Sophie asked when she’d backed as far away as possible from him.

  “That should be obvious. For Excalibur, of course. Landon did a fine job of getting the warlock out of the way so we could hold you for ransom.”

  “We haven’t found the sword.”

  Balor adjusted his eye-patch lifting it just a bit and Sophie doubled over in pain as if a knife had seared her.

  “I’d suggest you don’t lie to me,” he said. “You’ve been followed everywhere by Landon, Lucifer and by my pet, Sigurd.”

  A low snort came from behind a stand of trees and Sophie swung her head in that direction just in time to see a white hide slide past the trunks. Another low roar sounded, accompanied by smoke.

  “Sel still!” Lucifer commanded.

  Balor picked up the chain again and tugged. Sophie dug her feet into the soft ground and grasped the collar to avoid being choked. Balor tugged harder and she stumbled forward. “It’s too bad your warlock won’t be around to watch the three of us rut with you,” he said, “but you can tell him how good it was after we get the sword.”

  “Rape isn’t my idea of fun!” Sophie hissed as she was forced to take another step forward.

  “She’s right,” Lucifer said and stepped forward. “Let’s make this more exciting.” He took the key from Balor and unlocked the collar. “There now. You can run. We’ll catch you of course, but this is a little more sporting. I’ll even give you a head start.”

  Sophie rubbed her neck. “Like a fox in front of hounds?”

  Lucifer grinned. “The chase always arouses me.”

  Sophie didn’t wait to hear more, but turned and fled, running faster than she even knew was possible. Behind her, she heard him laugh and then he was on her, knocking her to the ground. She twisted around, pummeling his chest.

  He laughed again. “Fight me, bitch. It makes me hard.” His eyes glowed red as horns sprouted from his head.