by Aliya DalRae
She yowled and twisted, trying desperately to free herself, but those talons tightened around her, threatening to break skin. She dared to open her eyes, but snapped them shut again as her lunch offered to do an encore appearance. That quick peek had been enough to tell her that she needed to stop struggling.
The forest was falling away at an incredible speed as whatever creature had her in its grips flew higher into the night. Even if she managed to get herself out of its clutches, the return to earth would be murder. It wasn’t the fall that scared her, but that sudden stop would be a doozy. Sure, she’d land on her feet, but from this altitude what difference would it make?
Deciding to roll with it, Kythryn kept the image of the liger firmly in her mind. As soon as her unlikely rescuer reached its destination, she would trigger the change and take it out. Like her daddy always said, one problem at a time.
The creature relaxed its talons a bit, taking the squeeze factor from an eleven to about a four. With the threat of those sharp claws puncturing a lung temporarily on hold, Kythryn opened her eyes. She had a plan in place and her fear tamped down, so she decided to sit back and enjoy the ride.
Chapter Thirty-Four
A fter the battle with the ferals, every Soldier needed medical attention, and, much to his frustration, Martin was no exception. He’d suffered from several cuts and deep gashes to his arms and chest, and he’d lost a lot of blood.
Jessica Sweet, mate of the Warrior Raven, was tending to his wounds. She was six months pregnant and had been in the clinic for a checkup when the wounded piled in.
One of the Soldiers cried out and Martin glanced to see who it was. With his attention averted, Jessica poured an astringent into the gash on his chest and Martin hissed. That shit stung.
“Tough it out, Soldier,” Jessica said. “I’ve seen much worse than this. There’s worse here tonight. Trust me, you’ll live.” She was kind of grumpy, but Martin chalked it up to her current condition. That and the fact that she was Raven’s mate kept him from snapping at her.
After dousing the rest of his injuries with the antiseptic, she wrapped them up tight. “You should be healed by this time tomorrow,” she said. “Damn it. Where the hell is Nox?”
Martin was pretty sure that last bit wasn’t meant for him, so he kept quiet on the issue. He didn’t know where the male had disappeared to anyway. He was with them, then he wasn’t.
Jessica had grown still, her hands resting on his arm, the bandage she was applying held suspended in mid-wrap. When he glanced at her, she was staring into space, apparently having checked out. A few seconds later she shook her head and caught his eye. “What?” she said.
Martin looked away. Word around camp was that she had psychic visions. If that’s what was going on now, it was none of his business, so he let it go.
Jessica secured the gauze and said, “Take the bandages off when you get up tonight. Give everything a good washing, alcohol wouldn’t hurt either. Come back to see Allon if it looks like they aren’t healing right. The Sorcerers are involved so you never know.” Then she patted him on the leg and disappeared.
“Hey Merlin.”
Martin heard her voice from across the room and he stiffened. He couldn’t hear the Warrior’s response, but Jessica said, “Yeah, back there.”
Martin figured the male had come to check on all the wounded. Just because they’d shared a couple of beers and had a few laughs didn’t make them friends. Especially not the kind that came running when one suffered injuries in battle.
But the aroma of cayenne and chocolate, the scent he’d memorized as being distinctly Merlin, drew closer. Martin didn’t have to open his eyes to know the Warrior stood before him. When he did look up, it was into a pair of bottomless black eyes.
Merlin’s nostrils flared as those dark eyes scanned Martin’s bandaged injuries. For a moment, it seemed the lights in the room dimmed and Merlin’s eyes shone like obsidian. It was a second, no more. When Martin blinked, Merlin’s eyes were as they’d always been, though having them trained on him was still enough to take his breath away.
“Are you well?” Merlin asked.
Martin shrugged. “I’ll heal.”
“Good. Report.”
And there it was, business as usual.
Martin squared his shoulders and gave as thorough a recap as he could. Of the ten Soldiers plus Nox, three were dead, the rest injured. Exact numbers of ferals were hard to estimate. A dozen had escorted Maxx to the meeting. The rest swarmed from the trees, and the next thing they knew, they were fighting. At that point all that mattered were the ferals he faced in the moment.
The Soldiers fought well against superior numbers, killing nearly twenty before the enemy retreated. He couldn’t say how many got away. They were there, and then they weren’t. Once the Soldiers had secured the area, they called for medics and a cleanup crew, and brought their dead and wounded home.
Merlin’s dark eyes remained locked on Martin’s as he related the night’s events. When he finished, Merlin rested his hand on Martin’s bare shoulder. The contact was fleeting, but long enough for Martin’s heart to skip a beat. Then Merlin dropped his hand to his side, and it was as though nothing had happened.
“I’ll take your report to Mason. You rest up.”
“I’m fine,” Martin argued. The last thing he wanted was for Mason to think he couldn’t withstand a few cuts and bruises, couldn’t do his job.
“Yes, you are, and you’ve earned the time. Let me do this for you, Soldier. Just…rest.” Merlin’s lips turned up slightly, but his eyes held a different emotion. A deep sadness reflected from their depths, and Martin could only nod and look away.
When he felt he could stand it, he glanced back, prepared to thank the Warrior properly, but Merlin was gone.
Chapter Thirty-Five
R achel left her room in a rush, desperate to find Nox.
Jessica’s anxiety had bled through the familial bond and, concerned for her niece and the baby, Rachel had called. Jessica filled her in on all that had happened with the ferals. It sounded like a terrible battle, but Rachel’s heart fell to her middle at the mention of Nox’s injury. At that point, she dropped her phone and dashed out of her room in bare feet and heart-covered PJs.
Nox was exactly where Jessica said he would be, in one of the clinic’s private exam rooms. He didn’t look up when she walked in, didn’t speak. He was sitting vigil beside the remains of a small male.
Rachel swallowed away the bile that rose in her throat at the sight of the body and its severed head. “Nox?”
For a long moment, he said nothing, refused to acknowledge her. When he did speak, his voice was ragged and raw.
“I left them, you know. All of them. I should have reached out, let them know I was okay. I should have done something to help them move on.”
Rachel stepped toward him, but still he didn’t turn. Obviously, he was speaking of the ferals he’d brought to town when the original Fuhrmann had conscripted them into his war of vengeance.
“It was a tumultuous time,” Rachel said. “So many things going on at once.”
“No, I was selfish. I saw an opening to join my family, awkward as it was, and I left them. My fantasies were more important to me than their futures. They shouldn’t have had to return to Maxx.”
“Nox, it’s not your fault. Your brother needed you. Jessica needed you.”
I needed you, she thought, and wondered at the truth of it.
“He was the last of them. Mouse? He had a way of surviving when none of the others could. He adapted to whatever, whoever, was around. Now he’s dead because I finally reached out. Again, for my own selfish reasons.”
“You weren’t being selfish, Nox. This was for the Legion. For Kythryn, and the rest of us.”
“I begged Mason. Told him I could handle it on my own. Without Martin and the Soldiers, I’d be dead. I thought because they were my people, I had an edge over the Legion. My arrogance could have gotten me killed, did ge
t others killed. Thank the gods for Martin.”
Nox turned and Rachel finally got a good look at him. Blood saturated his clothing, and by the cuts and tears in the fabric, most of it was his.
She walked to the sink and washed her hands before gathering some supplies from the drawers. After filling a plastic hospital pan with hot water, she carried the lot to Nox and knelt in front of him. She tugged at the bottom of the cotton T he wore and pulled it over his head. He raised his arms, shifted his head to accommodate her, but made no other indication he was aware of what she was doing.
“Tell me about Mouse,” she said as she submerged a cloth in the water and proceeded to wash the blood from his chest. “Where was he from?”
Nox shuddered when the cloth touched his skin, an involuntary reaction, and he shrugged. “Mouse was from nowhere and everywhere. He was one of the few to stand with me when Maxx was trying to get all his followers to drink dead blood. To embrace being feral. He was entirely too gentle for the brood, but as it was the only way to survive, he did what he had to do. Once we reached Chicago, Maxx took it to a new level.”
Rachel finished with his chest and moved on to one of the nastier gashes on his upper arm. A quick intake of breath was Nox’s only reaction as she prodded his damaged flesh.
“He wanted all of us to be feral, to be like him. If you refused, you were out, permanently. Maxx had no problem killing a male who couldn’t or wouldn’t follow orders.
“When I left with Mouse and Tank, and a few of the others, Maxx was livid. He wouldn’t go against me though. He knew better, knew what I could do and was smart enough to know I’d take him out. He wasn’t happy about losing my little tricks, though. He made a lot of money from my ability to make others see things his way.”
“Allon will need to stitch this one together, I’m afraid.” Rachel didn’t like the looks of the jagged cut, but Nox only shrugged again.
“You can do it,” he said.
She looked up, certain she’d misheard, but he was already continuing with his story. She returned to the supplies cupboard and retrieved what she needed. As he spoke, she threaded the needle, dabbed some numbing cream around the wound, and proceeded to sew him up. His skin twitched beneath her fingers as she inserted the needle. Otherwise, no reaction.
“I’m dangerous with all I don’t know here,” Nox was saying. He’d moved on from his former brood and was talking about the Legion. “Again, my arrogance proceeds me. My brother is a Warrior; therefore, I must know everything I need to fight the Legion’s battles. How wrong could I be? I was so angry, so focused on wanting to get my claws into Maxx, it never occurred to me to use my gift. To take him out mentally.”
“So, you’ll complete the Soldier training?” Rachel tied off the last stitch, applied some antibiotic ointment and wrapped the wound with a sterile dressing.
Nox nodded. “Yeah, I think I will. I have to.”
Rachel applied salve and bandages to his lesser wounds and patted his leg, using the moment to see if there was anything below the belt that needed her attention, injury-wise, of course. He seemed to be fine, no blood or cuts in his leathers. When she finished, he was staring at the small feral again.
“He deserved more.”
She squeezed his knee and said, “We’ll give him a proper send off.”
Nox looked at her for the first time, searching her face for something. “You would help me with that?”
“Of course.” Rachel reached up to cup his jaw in her hand and thumbed away the first of his tears. “I’ll handle everything.”
Nox studied her a moment longer, then leaned down to rest his brow against hers. “Thank you.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
H arrier’s wings were crying. Kythryn was tiny as a human, practically miniscule when she shifted into that little black cat of hers, but she proved to be quite solid. He’d thought for sure Rusty was big enough to carry her away from any danger she found herself in, and for a short distance, his owl form would have been fine.
However, the farther they flew from the cabin and the ferals, the heavier she became. She growled when he adjusted his grip, but soon relaxed again when she realized he wasn’t going to drop her. Never. No matter how bad it hurt, he would never let go of his little cat. A shame he’d been too stubborn to admit it before now.
After what seemed a millennium, but was more like twenty minutes, the Legion Compound came into view. Harrier circled once to be sure there was no one on the deck, then he went in for a landing. He dropped Kitty on the wooden platform from about a foot up, landed a short distance away and initiated the change.
When he’d resumed his Vampire form, he looked toward the cat he’d rescued only to find a strange and humongous feline thing where he’d dropped her.
“Christ Jesus, Kitty. What the hell is that?”
The creature, which had a huge head surrounded by tufts of tan fur and a body painted with black and tan stripes, fell to the ground in mid-leap. It landed at Harrier’s feet where it rolled onto its back and looked up at him with wide eyes.
Harrier scratched his head and sighed. “Human form would be nice now, Kitty. But it’s good to know you had a plan.”
The creature shuddered, and a moment later morphed into the dark-haired girl who drove him mad. She clambered up and squared all five feet of her naked self in front of him, hands on hips as she pushed out her chest, her small breasts taking his attention until she spoke. “Harrier? That was you? And what do you mean what the hell was I? What the hell were you?”
“I was the one who carried you away from a death sentence, though I see now that you had things well in hand. Seriously, though, what was that?”
“It was a liger,” she snarled, her eyes still boring into his. “And you’re not answering my question. Since when do Vampires shift into owls?”
“When their fathers are avian Shifters, it tends to happen.”
“You’re half Shifter?”
“Aye, I am.” He couldn’t help the defensive tone, had always been touchy about his parentage. And the way she was looking at him gave him no incentive to elaborate. Until she laughed.
“How fucking cool is that?” she cried, and threw her arms around his bare waist, taking things from uncomfortable to downright awkward as she pressed her breasts into what turned out to be his navel.
“Uh, Kitty…”
She giggled and gave him an extra squeeze before backing away a step. “Sorry about that. I forgot your dangly bits were out. I wish I’d known it was you. I would have enjoyed that flight a whole lot more if I had. Wow. Avian Shifter. Can you do other forms like the cats can? And when can we do that again?”
Harrier cupped his “bits” to shield her from his body’s response to all that skin on skin. Oblivious, Kitty chattered on, acting like she’d just found out he liked sushi. Even Bella had balked when she’d learned of his Shifter-tainted blood. She’d been in love with him, though, so had forgiven him that one tiny flaw. Kitty, on the other hand, didn’t blink an eye.
“Where are we, anyway?”
Her words finally registered and Harrier gave himself a mental shake to focus on what was important. “This is the Legion Manse,” he said, and her jaw dropped.
“No shit? You brought me onto Legion property?”
“Uh, no. No shit, and it was the safest place I could think of. No feral in its right mind would come here, even if they could find it. Should have brought you here to begin with, but…”
“But it’s super double secret, right?”
“Aye. I’ll be catching hell from the Warlord for bringing you here, but it couldn’t be helped. Are you injured at all?”
She glanced at her left side. “I got a scratch jumping through the window, but it mostly healed itself when I changed.”
Harrier growled at the thin line of marred flesh on her otherwise perfect torso.
“Really,” she said, turning so he couldn’t see the cut anymore and drawing his eyes to hers. “It’s just a s
cratch. It’ll be gone in no time.”
Harrier scanned her face for any sign of pain, but she looked fine, although she’d grown unnaturally quiet.
She studied him a moment before shifting her gaze out into the night. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Harrier cleared his throat. “Come, wee Kitty. Let’s find you some clothes before you catch a chill.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
K ythryn followed Harrier through the halls of the biggest house she’d ever been in. She tried to keep her jaw off the floor, but this place was spectacular. From the high ceilings and carved woodwork, to the polished floors. And elevators. The place was so big it had freaking elevators.
They managed to make it to Harrier’s suite, which was a couple floors up from the main level, without running into anyone. That was a good thing, because the thought of someone catching her here in her birthday suit made her nervous. Not that she was a prude by nature—helloooo, cat Shifter— but there was something about the place that made her feel exposed. Being naked didn’t help.
When Harrier let Kythryn into his rooms, she twirled around like a total rube. She couldn’t help it. It was stunning, and yet so perfectly Harrier.
The furniture was plain, but suited him to a T. A comfortable sofa stretched in front of a stone fire place, a couple of oversized chairs flanking it. The lamps were simple, but gave off a lot of light, and the walls were as bare as the tops of the end tables.
The only decoration she could see was a framed photograph on the mantle of a gorgeous red head and a couple of kids that could easily be hers. She recognized her immediately as the lady her dad had tried to slash when things had gone wonky at the punishment ritual earlier in the year. Rachel, Harrier’s sister.