The Nightwind's Woman

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  “Hardy-har-har,” the brownie had sneered. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.”

  It went downhill from there so by the time she sat in her office dictating the day’s records, she was bug-eyed with weariness, her shoulders ached and her head was aching. Listening to her stomach rumble, she realized she hadn’t even stopped for lunch. Thankfully she’d had a large breakfast but now she knew why her head was hurting.

  “Are you a stickler for punishment, sweeting?”

  That sexy voice brought up her head. Twice in one day Dr. Hunkasaurus was standing in her doorway. This time he was sans his lab coat and what he was wearing made her sit up and take immediate notice.

  Tight, well-worn jeans clung to his lean hips and thighs like a second skin. There was a designer hole just above the right knee that drew her attention to the bright white sneakers encasing his rather large feet. Moving her attention up his tall frame, the red T-shirt tucked into his jeans stretched across that broad chest and those wide shoulders so lovingly she could have sworn the material was alive and was eagerly caressing him. The hard thrust of his pecs and the very prominent press of his nipples against the shirt made her mouth water.

  Too bad you’re taken, her conscience growled at her.

  “Can you come up for air and get a bite to eat with me before slinking back here to continue the grind?” he inquired.

  “I shouldn’t,” she said.

  He chuckled. “Woman, if I only did what I should, I’d be the most depressed man in the Megaverse.” He jerked his head toward the hall. “Come on. You gotta eat, Kenzi.”

  “How do you know I haven’t?”

  “I’m keeping tabs on you, of course,” he replied. His blue eyes turned darker and he swept them over her like silk sheets settling on a bed. “I do that with ladies I find irresistible.”

  “I belong—”

  “To the archdemon and the Nightwind,” he said then shrugged. “Not a problem for me unless it’s a problem for them.” His devastating lips crooked upward on one side and he looked at her from beneath his long, dark lashes. “Problem for you?”

  There would have been a time she’d have flung herself on him and squirmed like a fish out of water and that was exactly what she wanted to do. Trouble was, she didn’t think Kerreyder would have a problem with it but Randon sure as hell would.

  “Yes to the meal,” she said, scooting back her chair. “No to anything else.”

  His eyebrows shot up. Obviously he was not accustomed to being turned down. “Your loss,” he said.

  “I imagine it is,” she said as she came around the desk.

  He stepped back to allow her to leave the office, pull the door shut behind her.

  “It’s Greek night in the cafeteria,” he said. “Hope you like moussaka.”

  “I love it.”

  She fell into step beside him—feeling intimidated by his overpowering masculinity—and glanced up now and again just to see his chiseled jaw, mop of thick hair and the deliciously deep cleft in his strong chin. She sighed. There were far too many distractions at Tearmann.

  Then she saw a saleerandees mincing toward them down the hall and rethought her definition of distraction. The scaly fairy who resembled a bipedal lizard hissed at her as he passed, dipped his triangular head and snapped his long tail on the floor as he dragged it behind him. It was his normal form of saying a cheerful hello and not intended to frighten her or warn her off.

  “Getting used to them?” Alyn inquired with a grin.

  “The trustees, yes, but those in lockdown?” She shook her head. “That’s taking some getting used to. I had to lance a boil on the rump of a nuckelavee today.” She shuddered. “What came out was purple and smelled like dead fish then oozed for a couple of days.”

  “Yeah, those things are among the grossest creatures we have,” he said. “I tossed my lunch the first time I had to work on one. The fact it has no skin—just powerful red muscles—and you have to get up close and personal with those yellow veins pumping black blood through them? The smell of them? Yuck.”

  “And what’s with that oversized cranium wobbling around on its neck like a bobble head doll?” she asked. “And arms dragging the ground? How does it keep its balance?”

  “Heck if I know. It’s a beast only a mother nuckelavee could love,” he responded. “My last patient was a huldrafolk.” At her quizzical look he explained the creature was an elf with a particularly nasty personality. “How ’bout you? What glorious anomalies did you see during clinic?”

  “It was my day for treating faeries,” she said.

  They reached the cafeteria and were glad to see the line wasn’t that long. There were several tables available so they settled behind two ITs, shuffling along to the music of U2 wafting out of the wall speakers.

  Kenzi looked up at him, hesitated then bit her lip.

  “You want to know how I know about the two men in your life,” he said, glancing down at her. He shrugged. “Tearmann is a huge facility but word spreads like wildfire. Medical personnel are among the biggest gossips in any environment. You should know that.”

  “It’s just that my personal life is—”

  “Not personal around here, sweeting,” he stated. “What one knows, we all know.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Yours is a unique situation but no one is judging you for the arrangement. You’d be surprised at the amount of personnel who are carrying on relationships with the trustees. Multiple relationships.” He lowered his voice. “Now interspecies affairs should be verboten but they aren’t. No one judges and no one condemns.”

  “The Consortium has no problem with it?”

  “If they did, trust me, we’d know,” he said. “So…” He looked across the room.

  “So?”

  He returned his gaze to her. “If you would like to go out with anyone other than the ’Wind and the archdemon, feel free to do so.”

  “And you think Randon Kayle would be all right with that?” one of the ITs in front of them inquired without looking around. “Dream on, Doc.”

  “Can’t kill a guy for trying, Reeves,” Alyn quipped.

  “I can’t but Kayle can,” the IT replied with a snort.

  “And would,” the other IT said then both computer nerds chuckled.

  Kenzi groaned inwardly. Her private life was open fodder for the entire facility it seemed. She could feel her cheeks burning and wished the floor would open up to swallow her.

  “Don’t let it bother you. It is what it is,” Alyn said. “But if you ever decide to dump those two guys…”

  Kenzi nodded, wanting to put an end to the conversation.

  * * * * *

  Naamah sat perched on a nearby table, listening to what was being said. She could see the discomfort on the human woman’s face and recognized shame when she saw it. The bitch wasn’t happy about being the plaything of two men.

  Not that she had a choice in the matter. Destiny had made her mate to an archdemon. Being born to the family she had made her mate to the incubus. Neither of those things could or would change and now that she was immortal—thanks to Kerreyder’s seed—she could not be eliminated.

  But she can be taken out of the picture, Lilith reminded her.

  Once the Nikkeson was released and the Great Evil was directed first to Terra to begin his elimination of humankind within the Megaverse, only the immortals and demonkind would survive the purge. All other living matter would cease to exist. Before that happened, it was imperative the human bitch be extracted from Terra without Kerreyder knowing what was happening.

  And hidden where neither he nor the Nightwind would ever find her.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was storming by the time the plane landed on the private airstrip in Santa Rosa County. Lightning stitched across the sky as though it came from the sewing machine of a crazed seamstress. Thunder shook the ground with loud sonic booms. The pine trees and pin oaks to the north of the airstrip were bending and twisting in a harsh wind that howl
ed as it blasted the plane.

  “Tornado weather,” Coulter remarked as he stood in the opened doorway of the plane.

  “Aye,” Cree agreed. He nudged his chin toward the black Chevy van pulling up. “Move it.”

  Coulter didn’t argue. He skipped down the plane’s gangway. As soon as he neared the van, a door opened and he ducked inside. Cree followed him with Sorn and the Nightwind bringing up the rear.

  “This weather ain’t even good for ducks and fishes,” Sorn complained. He dusted his hands through his wet hair.

  A very loud clap of thunder reverberated over the car as the driver put the van in motion.

  “I don’t think we’ll be going to the cemetery today,” Coulter said as he ran his palm over the fogged window beside him.

  “You afraid you’ll melt?” Sorn sneered.

  “Knock it off, Sorn,” Cree warned in a voice that brooked no comment. “I’m getting a fucking migraine and I don’t want to hear any shit from any of you.”

  “Where are we going?” Randon inquired. “Same place we stayed before?”

  “We’re going to Syntian Cree’s house as the guests of Lauren Fowler,” Cree replied.

  “You’re joking,” Coulter said.

  “Reapers don’t joke,” Cree grumbled. “She’s been made aware of the danger this world—hell all the worlds—are in and she’s offered her help.”

  “And you trust her?” Randon asked.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t take the incubus out there,” Coulter said. “She’s not real fond of Nightwinds.”

  “She knows he’ll be with us and that he’s the key to extracting Hades’ Key from the tombstone. She vowed not to mess with him,” Cree told them.

  “I fucking hate witches,” Randon mumbled.

  “My life-mate is a witch,” Sorn reminded him.

  “Your problem, pussy boy,” the Nightwind said. “Not mine.”

  The men all looked to the Alpha Reaper—expecting him to call a stop to the insults—but Cree was rubbing tight circles over his right eye and his face was pinched. Signs of the brutal migraine pounding between his temples.

  “He’s hurting,” Sorn whispered to Randon.

  “Aye, so don’t do anything to make the pain worse,” the incubus stated.

  * * * * *

  Lauren Fowler stood at the window watching the lightning zig-zagging across the firmament. Storms used to terrify her. Now, nothing did. She had conquered every fear she’d ever had.

  Except the fear of loneliness. That was going to stay with her for as long as the being she loved was lost to her. It still hurt that she had been forced to send him back to the Abyss but he had committed coldblooded murders she could neither overlook nor dismiss. He had to be punished. She would love him until the day she died and one day she would call him back to her.

  Unfortunately he had found a way to possibly escape her punishment and though the thought of him fleeing the Abyss upset her, it did not frighten her.

  Not like it did her consort. She turned her head to look at the Nightwind who had taken Syntian’s place in her life and in her bed. Though he looked like her old friend Ben Hulbert, he was all demon and easy to control.

  “What worries you, my love?” he asked as he joined her at the window. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest, putting his chin on her shoulder, his cheek to hers.

  “What if the succubae gain the key?” she asked. “If they do it will not be only the worlds they help destroy. He will get loose.”

  “And come for you,” her lover said. He sighed. “And me.” His embrace tightened. “Especially me.”

  “I will protect you, Jaleel,” she said. When they were in private she used his demon name and he wore his demonic face but in public he was the spitting image of the former sheriff of Santa Rosa County, the late and lamented Ben Hulbert. Hulbert was the biological father of her child who was in boarding school in France—his sperm stolen from him by Syntian Cree while in succubus form.

  “What of this other Nightwind?” he asked. “The one coming with the Reaper?” He said the word Reaper as though it was a bitter taste in his mouth.

  “No threat to either you or me. He is life-mated.” She laughed softly. “A woman who has an archdemon for a Blood-mate.”

  “Has he made her immortal?” Jaleel asked.

  “I scried her and yes, once she accepted his seed she became immortal.”

  “As I wish you were,” he said with a sigh.

  “I have no desire to be,” she said. “I prefer my life be finite.”

  Headlights shone at the end of the serpentine oystershell driveway.

  “They’re here,” she said. “There is no need for you to pretend to be anything other than what you truly are. Each of the men who will be staying with us are not entirely human.”

  “I sense something that disturbs me,” Jaleel said. “There is one among those coming who is a being I have never encountered before.”

  “That would be Dixon Coulter,” she said. “He is a Shadowlord. I have known of him for years. I have never sensed him to be a threat but now he has come into his full powers and is something more than a mere Shadowlord. He calls himself a Gravelord. Also, he was given a Reaper hellion and that makes it necessary to watch him very closely.”

  “I will do so,” Jaleel said, releasing her. “If he poses a threat to you—”

  “He does not,” she said. “When I say watch him closely, watch for his powers. I need to know just how potent they are, how much danger he poses to humans.”

  None, milady, came a soft whisper in her head. I am here to protect.

  “Are you now?” she asked aloud, knowing Jaleel had heard the Gravelord’s words.

  Fetch your book and I will swear upon it, he told her.

  “Bring me my Book of Shadows,” Lauren ordered her lover. “He offered and I will accept an oath made in that fashion.”

  Thank you, milady.

  “Don’t think me yet, Gravelord,” she replied. “If you prove false, I can send you to visit an old friend of mine in the Primal Ooze.”

  Soft laughter echoed through her mind and she smiled. She’d observed Dixon Coulter even when he’d been a young boy. She’d been aware of his budding talents and had helped to see him placed with the right foster parents who would encourage and mold him into a good man who did not abuse the gods-given powers he’d inherited. He had grown powerful since ascending to his full uniqueness but she was willing to bet he was on the side of good.

  Jaleel went to the front door as the van pulled up to the house and stopped. He opened the portal and stood back as the back door of the van opened and two men came vaulting up the steps onto the veranda. “Bad day to be traveling,” he said to the first man. He swept his hand behind him. “Enter and be at peace.”

  Lauren saw Viraiden Cree nod curtly. It was clear to her he had as much liking for Nightwinds as they did for Reapers. He looked down, hesitated only a moment before stepping over the bright-blue threshold placed there to keep out unwanted demons. She held out her hand as he entered her home.

  “Lord Cree,” she said. “Welcome to my home. Enter and be at peace.”

  The Reaper took her hand in his and brought it to his lips in a courtly manner. “Milady,” he greeted her. “Thank you for your invitation.”

  “It is my pleasure to help you.” She looked past him to the second man, also a Reaper. “Lord Sorn. Please enter and be at peace.”

  Darkyn Sorn stepped forward to accept her hand and—not to be outdone in the chivalry department—placed his own kiss upon her hand. “A pleasure, milady,” he said.

  Dixon Coulter entered next and also took her hand but he shook it with the firm assurance of a man unquestioning of his welcome. He smiled at her in a way that made her laugh.

  “I owe you a great debt, milady,” he said. “And I didn’t realize that until today.”

  “It was an honor to help you,” she told him. “I didn’t have a great childhood eith
er.”

  “You made what was left of mine bearable and for that I thank you,” he said. “Any time I may be of service to you, all you need do is ask.”

  “I will keep that in mind, Dixon,” she said congenially then eased her hand from his. “Enter my home and be at peace.” She looked past him and let the smile leave her face.

  He was standing on the porch with his hands shoved into the pockets of his black jeans. Hair wet and curling low over his forehead, his amber eyes wary and holding just a touch of fear, his shoulders were hunched in a way that announced his expectation of being mistreated.

  “Will you not join us, Lord Kayle?” she asked as the van pulled away from the house.

  “Need I worry you will trap me therein, milady?” he asked, his voice husky.

  “You do not,” she replied.

  “Or that you will send me to the Abyss?” he countered.

  “The only way I can do that is if you sign my Book of Shadows and I seriously doubt you will,” she answered.

  He shook his head. “Nay, milady, I would not.”

  “Then feel free to enter my home and be at peace, Randon Kayle. I mean you no harm. It will be at your hand that Syntian Cree is kept where he belongs for now. I have no quarrel with you.”

  His eyes slid past her to the other Nightwind.

  “Nor does Prince Jaleel Jaborn,” she amended.

  He stood there for a moment longer then stepped over the threshold.

  Lauren did not offer to shake his hand. Instead she turned her back on him and spoke to the others. “It will be dark soon,” she told them. “I assume—weather permitting—you will set out at first light to visit the cemetery.” She indicated they were to precede her into the living room.

  “Rain or shine,” Cree said. “It is imperative we find the key and secure it.”

  With Randon lagging behind, the others filed into the living room and took seats at Lauren’s invitation. She ignored him as he stood in the archway between the foyer and the living room.