“You like wood so well,” Jee Yn Ayr said. “You like it in you? You like the taste of good hard wood? Mayhap you will like it even more when you are completely encased within it!”
Inch by horrifying inch the thick, scaly, deeply grooved bark of a lowly scrub oak crept up Naamah’s body. She pushed at the encroaching hardness that flowed up her thighs, surrounded her hips and clamped tightly to her waist.
“Stop!” she pleaded. “Please, Your Worship, stop!”
“Spread your arms wide, thief,” the Father-God said. “Pretend you’re a tree!”
Unable to resist His command, Naamah screamed but spread her arms wide. From them sprouted thick branches that spiraled outward, upward and began to grow leaves.
“Please!” she begged one last time before the bark reached her throat to squeeze away all sound. As the grooves of the dark gray wood covered her face, her eyes widened to become two knots that stared in horror at those who were watching her.
“Remind me not to piss Him off,” Sorn whispered.
“Don’t piss Him off,” Cree mumbled.
When there was nothing left of Naamah’s true body, the Father-God nodded, gave his son a long, searching look then vanished in a mist of gold dust.
“Thank you, Your Worship,” everyone heard Kerreyder say.
“Aye, thank you,” Randon echoed.
Coulter was the first to notice there were no phantom eyes watching them now. He swept his gaze over the heavens but all he encountered was the same shimmering cloudless blue sky that had greeted them when they had set out this morning. “Severe clear,” he muttered.
“What?” Cree asked.
“Severe clear. Ceiling and visibility unlimited,” the former SEAL said. “It’s a pilot term for a cloudless sky. I think,” he said then cleared his throat. “I think our work is done here.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the twin torches to either side of the crypts door puffed to life.
“Yes, our work is done,” the Gravelord stated.
“I’d call your lady,” Lauren advised Kerreyder. “See that she’s all right.”
He cocked a shoulder. “I would but I don’t have a cell phone.” He looked at Coulter.
“No,” Coulter said.
The other Reapers shook their heads. There was no need for cell phones when they could call with their minds.
Every eye turned to the Nightwind as he pulled one from his pocket. He thumbed it on and was met with…
“No signal,” he mumbled.
Not in a cemetery that was warded for protection.
“You have a cell phone?” Cree said. “Really? Really?”
Randon’s face turned red and he lifted his chin. “I like to play Phrases with Pals,” he said. He shoved the phone into his pocket. “So fucking sue me, Reaper.”
Lauren laughed—bestowing upon the Nightwind the first real smile she’d given him—and said they could call from the van.
“The demon can read and he has pals?” Sorn said as they started back to their vehicle. “Who knew?”
“Up yours, Sorn,” Randon snapped.
“I’ll decline the offer but thanks for extending it,” Sorn quipped.
“You better hope he doesn’t extend it.” Cree said in a dry tone.
Everyone save Randon laughed at that but the incubus’s lips did twitch as he climbed into the van.
Epilogue
Kerreyder didn’t want to go. The gods knew he didn’t but he had to get his prisoners back to Prysson and the punishment they so justly deserved at Yn Drogh Spyrryd’s hands.
“You’ll take care of her?” he asked Randon.
“For the thousandth time, aye,” the Nightwind replied. “Need I remind you she is my mate too?”
They were in the elevator on the way down to the lowest level so the Warden of Prysson could collect the Saurian and the twin adlets, the horny mazikeen plus the rebellious adlet pup and two other prisoners. If Kerreyder had anything to say about it—and he did—six of the seven would be incarcerated in the lowest portion of Prysson and none of them would ever see the light of day again.
“Does it seem peculiar at all that once we were in the van all memory of what Naamah had done to our lady was erased from everyone’s mind save ours?” the archdemon inquired.
“Nothing the Father-God does surprises me,” Randon said. All memory of Naamah and what she, the Saurian and the mazikeen had done, had been wiped from Kenzi’s memory as well. “He was protecting his son and his son’s Blood-mate.”
“And for that I am grateful. McKenzi must never know of any of it.”
“She’ll not learn it from me,” Randon said. “And I suggest you and I never speak of it again lest we say something we shouldn’t in front of her.”
“Aye,” Kerreyder agreed.
The elevator stopped and the doors peeled back. The two stepped from the cage and headed down the corridor.
Kerreyder had said his goodbye to Kenzi in her room—where he had spent the night in her arms. It had been the hardest thing he had ever done to leave those silken arms, kiss her goodbye and depart. He couldn’t even tell her when he would be able to return but he hoped it wouldn’t be for longer than a year or two.
“I will take care of her,” Randon stressed, reading the archdemon’s mind.
“I know you will,” Kerreyder said. He had formed an uneasy alliance with the Nightwind. They would never be friends but at least they were no longer enemies in the true sense of the word.
“She’s crying,” Randon said.
“Aye, I can hear her,” Kerreyder said. “Mayhap you should go to her. Take her mind from my leaving.” He looked meaningfully at Randon.
Randon nodded. He hesitated then held out his hand. “The Wind be with you, Prince Kerreyder,” he said.
The archdemon didn’t hesitate. He slapped his hand to the Nightwind’s wrist warrior fashion and shook. “And with you, Lord Kayle.”
Randon almost smiled then turned to go. He was almost to the elevator when Kerreyder called out to him.
“Phrases with Pals?”
The last thing Kerreyder heard before the incubus boarded the elevator was laughter.
* * * * *
She welcomed him into her arms. Her heart had chosen him as its true mate and though she had deep, abiding feelings for Kerreyder, it was Randon who made the blood race through her veins.
As it had long before she ever met him. Back when he was but a Shadowman to her.
“Take me to bed,” she whispered against his chest. “Please?”
“With the greatest of pleasure,” he replied, swinging her up into his arms as though she weighed no more than a toddler. His long legs ate up the distance between the great room of the suite to the beautiful bed. Gently he laid her down then followed her, turning to his side to look into her face. He swept an errant curl behind her ear and smiled.
“I love you,” she said.
“And I love you more,” he replied.
“Not possible,” she stated and when he leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose, she lifted her mouth so it was her lips he claimed instead. Her tongue parted his lips and took possession.
Randon growled low in his throat and moved over her. They were both fully clothed but he took care of that small hindrance with the flick of his wrist.
“Nifty trick,” she said as he slid his mouth to her ear.
“A little something I learned from Sorn,” he told her then flicked his tongue over her earlobe.
Kenzi wriggled beneath the assault. “You two getting along better?”
He grunted. “Not likely. He’s a snotty little kitten.”
“I met his lady. She’s nice.”
The Nightwind stiffened. “She’s a witch.”
“Yes,” she said, drawing out the word. “But a nice witch.” She kissed him on the side of the neck. “Think of her as Glinda, the Good Witch of the North.”
“South,” he corrected and when she pulled back to give him a look that included a ra
ised eyebrow, he smiled. “I’m a big fan of the flying monkeys and besides I once won a Phrases with Pals tournament with a quote from her.”
“And that quote was?”
“‘Be gone before someone drops a house on you’,” he answered.
“You know the line I liked best?”
He shook his head.
“‘Only bad witches are ugly’,” she told him.
“Well, that’s open to discussion,” he said. “I’ve known some that were exquisitely beautiful but as bad as they come.”
She trailed her fingers down his bare side. “Let’s save that discussion for another time,” she said. “I can think of better things I’d like you to do with your mouth.”
His grin was instantaneous. “Me too,” he said as he slid down in the bed and wedged his upper body possessively between her legs. “This it?”
“You’re getting there,” she said, burying her hand in his thick hair. “Now show me what you got, demon.”
The first lick across her dampening folds was a pretty gods-be-damned good start.
About Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Charlee is the author of over eighty books. She was married 43 years to her high school sweetheart, Tom, who passed away in 2009. She is the mother of two grown sons, Pete and Mike, the proud grandmother of Preston and Victoria and the giddy grandmother of great-granddaughter Amber Dawn. She is the reluctant house mother to seven obnoxious felines she believes are alien infiltrators from the planet Kys'r'azz Prime. A native of Sarasota, Florida, she grew up in Colquitt and Albany, Georgia and now lives in the Midwest.
Charlee welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Charlotte Boyett-Compo
30 Days to Syn
BlackWind: Sean and Bronwyn
BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn
Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis IV anthology
Ellora’s Cavemen: Legendary Tails I anthology
Ellora’s Cavemen: Seasons of Seduction II anthology
Dancing on the Wind
Ghost Wind
HardWind
In the Arms of the Wind
Journey of the Wind
Kiss of the Wind
Passion’s Mistral
Prince of the Wind
Shades of the Wind
Shadowlord
WesternWind: Reaper’s Justice
WesternWind 1: WyndRiver Sinner
WesternWind 2: Reaper’s Revenge
WesternWind 3: Prime Reaper
WesternWind 4: Tears of the Reaper
WesternWind 5: Her Reaper’s Arms
WesternWind 6: My Reaper’s Daughter
WesternWind 7: Embrace the Wind
WesternWind 8: BlackMoon Reaper
WesternWind 9: Dark Reaper
WesternWind 10: Sins of the Reaper
WindVerse 1: Pleasure’s Foehn
WindVerse 2: Secrets of the Wind
WindVerse 3: Ardor’s Leveche
WindVerse 4: Prisoners of the Wind
WindVerse 5: Phantom of the Wind
WindVerse 6: Hunger’s Harmattan
WindVerse 7: Craving’s Chinook
WindVerse 8: Emperor of the Wind
WindVerse 9: WindChaser
WindVerse 10: Catch the Wind
WindVerse 12: Reaper’s Bounty
WindVerse 13: Guardian of the Dragon
WindVerse 14: Yearning’s Samiel
WindVerse 15: Captive of Her Heart
WindWorld: Desert Wind
WindWorld: A Reaper’s Love
WindWorld: Delivered into His Hands
WindWorld: Desire’s Sirocco
WindWorld: Longing’s Levant
WindWorld: Lucien’s Khamsin
WindWorld: Rapture’s Etesian
WyndRaider
Print books by Charlotte Boyett-Compo
BlackWind: Sean and Bronwyn
BlackWind: Viraiden and Bronwyn
Dancing on the Wind
Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis IV anthology
Ellora’s Cavemen: Legendary Tails I anthology
Ellora’s Cavemen: Seasons of Seduction II anthology
Fated Mates anthology
Ghost Wind
HardWind
In the Arms of the Wind
Kiss of the Wind
Passion’s Mistral
Windverse 1: Pleasure’s Foehn
Windverse 7: Craving’s Chinook
WesternWind 1: WyndRiver Sinner
WesternWind 2: Reaper’s Revenge
WesternWind 8: BlackMoon Reaper
WindWorld: Desire’s Sirocco
WindWorld: Longing’s Levant
WindWorld: Lucien’s Khamsin
WindWorld: Rapture’s Etesian
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
The Nightwind’s Woman
ISBN 9781419992650
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
The Nightwind’s Woman Copyright © 2014 Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Edited by Shannon Combs
Cover design by Kelly A. Martin
Cover photography by Viorel Sima, Alexander Kazantsev, Chernetskiy
Electronic book Publication September 2014
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