The Nightwind's Woman

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  So, he thought in that part of his mind that hadn’t been completely taken over by the sheer enjoyment of the moment, this was the way it would be. This was how the threesome would work. This was the sharing the archdemon had decreed.

  He was shocked to realize it didn’t bother him at all. If anything, he felt the keenness of the intimacy even more powerfully. His desire, his lust had intensified to a height he never knew existed. As he released into her, he kept his stare steady on Kerreyder. The slight smile with which the archdemon awarded him was a climax all of its own. He felt it all the way to the tips of his toes. He felt it even more keenly when Kenzi climaxed with a piercing shriek of pleasure and her entire body bowed off the sofa cushion as her inner muscle began milking him.

  “Mother of the goddess,” he gasped as the orgasm went on and on until he shuddered so violently he pulled free of his woman. Her eyes had rolled back in her head and she collapsed like a broken toy with her thighs splayed and her head fallen to one side.

  Kerreyder’s fingers were sensuously massaging Kenzi’s captive wrists. He did not take his eyes from the Nightwind until the last shiver rippled over the male’s now-limp body. Randon broke the contact when his head sagged to his chest.

  For a long time the archdemon said nothing then he slowly released his hold on Kenzi’s hands. “Did you enjoy that, incubus?” he asked.

  “Aye,” Randon heard himself say.

  “Good.”

  The archdemon got to his feet and came around the end of the sofa. He stretched out his hand to cup Randon’s shoulder.

  The Nightwind looked up into glowing red eyes that leapt with flame.

  “My turn,” Kerreyder said.

  Randon nodded his agreement and moved off the sofa. He stood aside as the archdemon took his place. When he would have turned away, Kerreyder bid him stop.

  “I took your place now you take mine. Hold her while I take her,” the archdemon commanded.

  A chill of disquiet undulated through Randon. He quickly cast his attention to Kenzi’s face and was surprised to see her looking at him. Her arms still lay above her head, her fingers lax. Silently he lifted his eyebrows.

  “Yes,” she said with a slight nod. “A thousand times, yes.”

  He hesitated only a fraction of a moment then straightened his shoulders and went to the end of the couch. Bending over, he wrapped his hands around her slender wrists, flexed his fingers and tightened his hold, then as she stared up at Randon, the archdemon slid into her waiting channel.

  * * * * *

  “The adlets are in separate cells,” Cree informed the Supervisor.

  “The Saurian is secure in her cell, as well,” Randon reported.

  “I understand you’ve have had some trouble with her,” the Supervisor observed.

  “She managed to escape within an hour of being locked up but hopefully that situation is under control,” Sorn stated. “She’s a slippery piece of work.”

  “As are all Saurians,” Kerreyder said. “That is their nature. Give them a crack and they can wriggle through it.”

  “About this key for which she was searching in the graveyard,” the Supervisor said, leaning back in his chair. “What have you been able to find out about it?”

  “We interrogated her for five hours and she refused to say anything,” Sorn replied.

  “I want to know what kind of key and what it is to,” Kerreyder said. “Schedule her for a visit to the med unit later today. I’ll have my—” He stopped, gave Randon a quick glance then cleared his throat. “I’ll have Dr. Delaney administer a hefty dose of fírinne. Let’s see if that loosens up the Saurian’s long tongue.”

  “Fírinne will certainly do the trick,” the Supervisor commented. “No creature has ever been able to fight off the properties of the drug but it does have some rather odd side effects.”

  “I’m aware,” Kerreyder said. “The ends justify the means in this case.”

  “Mayhap but a Saurian’s physiology—”

  “She’ll be fine,” Kerreyder interrupted. “I don’t care if she starts glowing in the dark and sprouts mushrooms from her cunt, her head swivels completely around and she spews green pea soup, I want to know what she was searching for in that graveyard!”

  * * * * *

  Sitting rigidly in her cell, Tuatara Avatás stared fearfully at the door. If there had been a single crack around it, she could shift her body into lizard form and wriggle her way out. Unfortunately, there was no opening through which she could squirm and that infuriated her. Saurians did not like to be trapped. Her species was cleithrophobic—an intense fear of being trapped, freedom taken away. Unlike claustrophobia, which is a fear of small, enclosed places, those who suffer from cleithrophobia fear the actual loss of freedom.

  Nauseous, dizzy, sweating profusely, her three-chambered heart racing, blood pumping painfully from her two aortas, she was on the verge of opening her mouth and screaming. She had cried until there were no tears left. She had lashed out at the door—scratching furiously until her claws bled. She was close to losing her mind as she sat there willing the door to open so she could draw a decent breath into her depleted lungs.

  It wasn’t just the fear of the cell that had put her into such a terrible place. She now knew the Warden was here and he would be taking her to Prysson for her part in the botched assassination attempt on Yn Drogh Spyrryd’s life. The adlet twins would suffer for trying to kill the demon but she would suffer worse for having castrated the male.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” she whimpered, beginning to rock back and forth. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her, her cracked and bloody claws digging into her sides as she tried to hold herself together.

  If she could get her hands on that fucking Nightwind…

  She knew now he wasn’t Syntian Cree but another of his kind. The bastard had woven his spell around her like a spider its web and she hated him so virulently she could taste blood in her mouth.

  And the Reaper?

  Aye, she hated him too. Her vengeance would be swift and telling if she ever got the chance to confront the two again.

  She’d listened carefully to the things being said as she was dragged to her cell. She’d touched both the Reaper and the Nightwind and could enter their thoughts as easily as drawing in a breath.

  Each had a mate, she thought—trying to push her mind away from where she was. Surely they cared for those mates. What she wouldn’t give to be able to annihilate, mutilate, cripple those pathetic females who allowed the males to use them. It would be a blessing to rid the bitches of their servitude while at the same time causing the males great heartache. If not heartache, at least fury at losing something they owned.

  But it was the knowledge that one of those women was also the Chosen Blood-mate of the Warden that excited Tuatara. If she could get her claws on that one—who just happened to be the life-mate of the lying Nightwind…

  “The things I would do to her,” she said through trembling lips. “McKenzi.”

  The name was a venomous curse on her tongue. She wanted nothing more than to snap the neck of the bitch, twist her head from her body and piss into her screaming mouth.

  A scraping sound at the door snatched all thoughts of the brutal vengeance she wanted to enact against the Warden’s whore. She tensed, priming her body to launch itself against whoever opened the portal. Swiping her tongue greedily over her lips, she slowly eased to her feet as the cell door began to open.

  * * * * *

  Kenzi jumped as the door to the operatory was flung open. Her eyes widened as she saw four guards struggling with a violently thrashing prisoner who was hissing and spitting like an enraged feline. One of the guards had three livid red scratches down his cheek and an expression on his beefy face that said he was more than willing to beat the hell out of the one who had marked him.

  “The Saurian,” he told her as the four men wrestled the twisting, turning, spitting prisoner to the exam table.

  “Oh yes,” Kenzi sa
id. This was the one to which the Supervisor had instructed her to administer some drug called fírinne. She glanced at the vac-syringe that had been pre-filled with the drug.

  As she watched, the four guards manhandled the prisoner—Kenzi realized it was a female—onto the exam table and began to lash her down with the heavy restraints at each corner. Another strap went around her hips and another across her chest.

  The guard with the lacerations on his cheek put the back of his hand under his chin to wipe away the blood dripping there.

  “I need to see to those scratches,” Kenzi told him.

  He didn’t reply but gave a curt nod. His gaze was latched on the prisoner. A muscle ground in his cheek and his eyes were savage.

  “Would you sit over here, please?” Kenzi asked.

  His jaw was clenched tight as he stomped over to the chair she indicated and sat down heavily.

  One close look at the claw marks and she knew they would need stitches. She told him as much.

  “No anesthetic,” he said. His eyes flipped up to hers. “I mean it, Doc.”

  “Okay,” she agreed.

  “Just do it,” he said, putting his hands to his thighs.

  The prisoner was screeching at them in a language Kenzi had no way of understanding. She doubted the men understood the woman either but her ravings seemed to piss off the guard in the chair for he ordered one of his men to shut her up.

  Staring in shock, Kenzi watched the guard grab a handful of 4x4 gauze squares then jam them into the prisoner’s gaping mouth.

  “That could choke her!” Kenzi complained.

  “Let it,” the wounded guard muttered.

  “I can’t—”

  “See to Jacobsen and I’ll take care of the Saurian.”

  Kenzi turned to find Kerreyder entering the operatory. From the look on his face, he would not countenance any argument from her.

  The archdemon came to the exam table and stared down at the writhing female who was making grunting sounds as she struggled to break free.

  “You know who I am,” he said.

  A wild cacophony rose from the prisoner.

  “So you know I hold your pathetic life in my hands.”

  Kenzi was at the med cabinet getting suturing and antiseptic supplies when he said that. She glanced around, a frown furrowing her brow.

  “I’ll remove the gauze but if you say one word, make one fucking sound, I’ll squeeze your neck like a Terran toothpaste tube until your brains squirt out your ears.” He leaned over her. “Is that clear, bitch?”

  The prisoner stilled instantly. Apparently she feared the archdemon would make good on his threat.

  “Now,” Kerreyder said, straightening up. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Which would you prefer?”

  “The hard way,” the guard with the injured face growled.

  “My thought too Jacobsen,” the archdemon acknowledged.

  The prisoner mumbled something behind her gag.

  Kerreyder loomed over the prisoner once more. “You bite me, reptile, and by Jee Yn Ayr’stoes I will crush you like a bug,” he warned. “Understood?”

  Nodding slowly, the prisoner looked away from the archdemon’s glaring eyes.

  Roughly plucking the gauze from the Saurian’s mouth, Kerreyder tossed it to the floor then wiped his fingers down his pant leg, his lips twisted with disgust.

  “What kind of key were you searching for and to what lock does it go?” he asked.

  Kenzi was about to swab antiseptic down the guard’s cheek but the loud gasp that came from the prisoner made her look around. The woman’s eyes were bulging and her face was a sickly green as she stared at the archdemon.

  “How do you know of the key?” she asked, her voice a rasp like dried cornstalks rubbing against one another.

  “What kind of key?” Kerreyder repeated.

  The Saurian shook her head. “I cannot tell you!” she said. “She would…” She clamped her mouth shut.

  “She?” Kerreyder questioned. “She who?”

  Shaking her head repeatedly, the prisoner refused to answer.

  Kerreyder looked to Kenzi. “I need you to administer the drug,” he told her.

  Kenzi looked down at her patient.

  “I can wait,” the guard said, raising his chin.

  “Now, McKenzi,” the archdemon prompted.

  Tuatara whipped her head toward the female in the white lab coat and narrowed her reptilian eyes on the woman. No one saw the wild gleam of speculation and the intense glare of hatred that flitted through the elliptical pupils.

  Laying aside the bottle of antiseptic and the cotton ball in her hand, Kenzi picked up the vac-syringe and brought it over to the exam table. She locked gazes with Kerreyder. “Will this hurt her?”

  “Just administer the drug,” the archdemon commanded.

  “Will it hurt her?” Kenzi repeated. She made no move to do as he ordered.

  “It could,” Kerreyder admitted.

  “What is it?” the prisoner asked, eying the instrument. “What is in that?”

  “Just a little something to loosen your tongue,” Kerreyder said.

  The Saurian bucked against the bonds holding her. “Fírinne?” she queried. “Not fírinne!” She jerked savagely. “You can’t give that to me!”

  “I can and I will,” the archdemon said. “Do as you are told, McKenzi.”

  “You can’t!” Tuatara shouted. Her eyes were wild as she stared at the vac-syringe. “You can’t give me that drug!”

  “What will it do to you?” Kenzi asked her.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Kerreyder snapped. “Just give her the drug.”

  “Not if it is going to harm her,” Kenzi said. She turned to put the vac-syringe on the counter but the archdemon shot out his hand and jerked the instrument from her. “Hey!” She tried to grab it back but one of the guards stepped in her way.

  “Last chance, lizard girl,” Kerreyder said as he put the barrel of the vac-syringe against the Saurian’s shoulder.

  “No!” Tuatara screamed. “Don’t!”

  Kerreyder bore down on the instrument, the barrel digging into the scaly flesh. “I will ask only once more. What kind of key?”

  The Saurian shuddered hard. “Hades’ Key!” she whimpered. “I was looking for Hades’ Key!”

  The archdemon blinked. “The key to the Underworld?” he demanded.

  “She brought it here centuries ago and hid it for her mistress,” Tuatara cried.

  “Who did?” he barked.

  “Hecate!” the Saurian said.

  “The goddess of magic?” Kenzi asked.

  “She is also Persephone’s minister,” Kerreyder stated. “I’ll wager the queen of hell stole her husband’s key and sent her handmaiden to Terra to hide it from him as a safeguard.” He narrowed his eyes. “Is that what happened, reptile?” When she didn’t readily answer, he flexed his finger on the trigger of the vac-syringe.

  “Aye!” Tuatara answered. “The queen never meant for Hades to ever find it!”

  “And it is buried somewhere in that graveyard?”

  “It is on a headstone,” Tuatara said. “Part of the ornamentation.”

  The archdemon turned to one of the guards. “Find the Nightwind and Sorn. Tell them they will need to return to Florida to locate that key.” When the guard spun on his heel and hurried off, Kerreyder looked down at the Saurian. “How did you know it was in a backwater place like Milton, Florida?” he asked.

  “Naamah told me,” came the miserable answer.

  Kerreyder’s mouth dropped open. For a moment he couldn’t speak but when he did, the anger in his voice made everyone in the room take a step back. Even the guard seated in the chair pulled his body toward the wall behind him.

  “When did that bitch tell you about the key?” he snarled.

  “When she bid me castrate Yn Drogh Spyrryd,” Tuatara replied. “It was her idea to weaken him in that way.”

  Kerreyder cursed under his br
eath. “Sounds like something that twat would do,” he mumbled. He handed the vac-syringe to Kenzi. “We won’t be needing this now.”

  “May I stitch this gentleman’s wounds, then?” Kenzi asked.

  Kerreyder waved a dismissive hand. He pivoted slowly then walked out of the room without a backward glance.

  “This can wait, milady,” the injured guard said and started to get up. Kenzi stopped him with a firm hand to his shoulder.

  “No, it can’t. God only knows what was clinging to her claws when she scratched you,” she said. She straightened her shoulders. “The wounds need cleaning and stitching.”

  “I hope his skin falls off.” Tuatara smirked.

  “One more word from you and I’ll jam that vac-syringe into you,” Kenzi said through clenched teeth. She glanced at the remaining two guards. “Roll that exam table into the room next door.”

  “You are going to be sorry the demon ever laid hands to you,” the Saurian told Kenzi. “I will see to it!” She cackled. “Naamah will see to it! He belongs to her!”

  Kenzi pointed to the glob of 4x4s Kerreyder had pulled from the prisoner’s mouth then zeroed her attention on one of the guards. “Pick those nasty things up and if she says another word, cram them back into her mouth.”

  “Aye, milady!” one of the guards agreed and bent over to do as she ordered, grimacing as he plucked the damp gauze from the floor.

  As the guards rolled the Saurian from the room, Kenzi set to work on the wounded guard.

  “You’re going to need a tetanus shot,” she told him. “Are you going to give me some shit about that?”

  “No ma’am,” he said with respect glowing in his eyes. “You can do whatever the hell you want to do to me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Though he searched every inch of Tearmann, Kerreyder could not find Naamah. She had vanished—no doubt as soon as she knew he was looking for her.