Knights of White Bundle

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “It’s Karen’s sister,” Marisol told Jag. “She’s stable, but far from cured. I’m not sure how long I can bind her to this world.”

  But Jag’s attention wasn’t on Marisol, it was on Karen. His attention took control of her, making coherent thought or speech, impossible. The world was lost in the depth of Jag’s heavy stare. So much so that, for a moment, she couldn’t even breathe.

  She cut her gaze from his, trying to get a grip on her reaction to him. Trying to reject what Marisol had suggested, what her mind wanted to turn to truth. She was not Caron, Jag’s long-dead wife. It was insane. But then so were monsters and monster hunters, she reminded herself.

  “This beast wants Eva and it’s powerful enough to take her, I fear,” Marisol added. “More so than any I’ve encountered. I don’t understand why it’s fighting for her like it is. Why not just choose a new human?”

  “Karen?”

  Jag spoke her name, willing her to look at him, and full of accusation. “What?” She ground her teeth at the implications in the air, her gaze heated as it darted to his. “Are you asking if I know why?”

  Silence laced the air as they squared off, gazes locked in war and confirmation of her assumption. He still didn’t trust her. He was accusing her of Lord only knew what. Here she was, having everything sacred in her world threatened, even her own existence, and she couldn’t get a little trust.

  Frustration quickly escalating, Karen flattened her palms on the table. “How would I know why this thing wants her?” she demanded. “Until a few hours ago, I didn’t even know these ‘beasts’ existed. I’m not the enemy here. I need to save my sister. Are you going to help me or not?”

  “We are trying to help,” Marisol said, her voice low. “Finding the one who controls your sister isn’t an easy task. Maybe if you recap the events that brought you to the ranch in detail.”

  Karen drew a deep breath and recalled the past twenty-four hours, starting with the telegram. When she finished, a memory lodged in her mind just out of reach. Karen let her head ease forward, exhaustion and emotion, threatening to take control. “Eva called the thing…the beast by a name.” She made a frustrated sound. Why couldn’t she remember it?

  “What name?” Des and Marisol asked in unison.

  Karen lifted her head, her fingers digging into the tabletop, her mind hurting with the effort to recall. She was just so tired. “I can’t seem to remember. I can’t. I never forget things. I…just…I can’t.”

  Marisol’s hand slid over the top of Karen’s. “I can feel your need to sleep. Rest will clear your mind. I bet you’d like clean clothes and a shower, too. I’ll pull some of my things for you and bring them to your room. Rock is with Eva. He’ll alert us if there are any changes. She’s safe.”

  Karen shook her head, discarding the suggestion and reaching deep for the name. It was so close to the surface of her memories. So close but out of reach. “You said you can’t protect Eva much longer.”

  “Go rest,” Des said. “Marisol’s right.” His voice softened. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole, by the way.”

  She was surprised by his apology but didn’t try to respond. She was too busy fighting the tiredness taking hold, wanting to refuse their suggestion of rest. But her body was starting to shut down, and she knew it. She had an amazing memory. Almost photographic. To forget a name in such an important situation didn’t seem right.

  “Please,” Marisol urged, “go sleep a little while. I will keep Eva in this world, I promise. She’s stable.”

  Karen fixed her in a stare. “Will you wake me in an hour?”

  “Two,” Marisol countered.

  “Fine,” Karen said in defeat. “I…my clothes. I have a suitcase in my car.”

  “We’ll get it for you,” Jag said.

  Karen didn’t look at him as she pushed to her feet. Her legs felt like Jell-O, her muscles aching. And now, when she felt she couldn’t take any more, she had to walk past Jag. Worse, he’d be bringing her bag to her. Or even more unsettling, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he really didn’t want to see her. God, she needed rest, because she was insanely conflicted.

  Just facing Jag here, with others around, felt overwhelming. He’d told her to stay away from him, but right now he appeared resolved to stay in her path, perhaps because Marisol and Des were watching.

  He confused her, this man, this leader of the Knights of White. She didn’t know why she was so drawn to him, or he to her. And he was drawn to her. She felt it. Even completely exhausted, she felt it. Could they really have been lovers in the past? Perhaps even married? A part of her screamed with the impossible, telling her, yes, they had been. The words from her dream came back to her, barely able to catch her breath with the impact of them playing in her head.

  He must accept you.

  Claim him or the darker side will.

  You are his salvation.

  She kept her gaze at chest level as she crossed the kitchen, but when she was directly in front of him she stopped walking and looked at him. Karen opened her mouth to speak, wanting answers, but then reconsidered. She was tired. There was an audience.

  No, it wasn’t the time or place. Still, a memory flashed in her mind. The one Marisol had sparked with her recount of the past. Karen was lying under a tree with a book of some sort in her hand—only it wasn’t her in appearance—it was another. It was Caron. It had to be. Yet, Karen felt it like it was her. Knew the moment as if she’d lived it.

  Her head was in Jag’s lap as she read to him, his fingers stroking her hair. A tender touch filled with love. He whispered something to her and she looked up at him, taken aback by the love in his gaze. So much love. The kind of love she’d never felt in this lifetime. It was a good memory. Oh, God. Crazy as it might make her, it did, indeed, feel like a memory. Her memory. Karen’s chest tightened as the images slipped away. As they departed she wanted to call them back. It was as if something sweet was being stolen away, snatched without her regard.

  She searched Jag’s face, feeling warmth begin to flood her as she recognized his eyes as those in her memory. This time the warmth was not from desire, but from something much more heartfelt and tender.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered. “I think…it’s true.”

  Jag narrowed his eyes on her. “What’s true?”

  Karen opened her mouth and shut it, becoming aware of their audience again. A bit happy for it, in fact. Some sleep would help her deal with this, make sure she wasn’t simply delusional. That what felt real, really was.

  Jag’s hand snaked out and shackled her wrist, his voice hard. “What’s true?” he demanded in a hard voice that contrasted with the gentle way he held her wrist.

  He put on a tough show for the others, but she felt the carefulness of his touch. Jag would never hurt her. “That I need sleep,” she said, feeling the most unbelievable urge to grab his hand and pull him with her to a quiet place and replay her memory. She cut her gaze away, afraid he would see there was more to her declaration than her words gave as reason. “I just need sleep.”

  She felt him studying her, and knew instinctively he didn’t quite believe her. The minute he released her, she sidestepped him, and made her way from the room. But even in her retreat he haunted her, the spicy maleness of his scent chasing her, as did the vividness of her memory.

  In that moment, she vowed to find out the truth about her dreams and how they connected her and Jag to the past. Because they did. She knew Jag before this day. She felt it with all of her being. If that memory had been true, they’d once been in love.

  This wasn’t over because he told her to “stay away.” Not by a long shot. She didn’t obey when ordered. If the Caron of his past had simply listened when ordered, Jag had a surprise coming to him. Sitting back and waiting for someone else to take action wasn’t her style.

  Karen found her way to the top of the stairs and had a choice of her room or Eva’s. She chose her sister’s. If she had to sleep, she’d do it there. If Eva woke up, she
needed to know Karen was near.

  Karen found Rock sitting in a corner of Eva’s room in an armchair she hadn’t noticed until now. He stiffened as she entered and pushed to his feet.

  “I can watch her awhile,” Karen said.

  Rock gave her one quick nod. “I’ll just be outside if you need me.” He started for the door.

  Why he needed to stay at all, she didn’t know, but she didn’t argue. Instead she walked over to her sister, and pressed a palm to her cold cheek. When she didn’t move, Karen touched two fingers to Eva’s neck, feeling for a pulse. She let out a breath as it beat beneath her touch. Relieved, she brushed her knuckles over her sister’s cheek and let her hand drop away.

  Karen took Rock’s place in the corner chair. The overstuffed brown chair was remarkably comfortable, or perhaps Karen was simply that tired. She took off her shoes and settled her legs to her side.

  Once she got a little sleep, and was sure her mind was clear, she was going to talk to Jag. They were going to have a face-to-face and figure out what these dreams were really all about.

  Instinct said she needed to get close to Jag and fast…before it was too late. Her head eased onto the cushion, her eyes drifting shut.

  The minute Rock told Jag Karen wasn’t in her room, he handed Rock her suitcase, cursing under his breath. Karen had to have been awake over twenty-four hours now, and the only way to save Eva might be locked in her memories. She needed rest, plain and simple. Eva’s salvation might well hinge on a name Karen was too tired to place. If Jag knew the name of this beast, if it was recognizable, it might help him track it down and kill it.

  Without allowing himself time to think, Jag acted, ignoring his own silent vow to stay away from Karen.

  Charging into the room, he stopped dead in his tracks as he found Karen asleep in the chair, her hand tucked beneath her chin. Everything inside him went still and then warmed. So beautiful, so innocent.

  Blond hair framed her face in wild disarray. Dark lashes rested on her porcelain-perfect skin. His heart squeezed at the vision of loveliness. At the tenderness it made him feel. Yet, he knew from the dreams, she could make him feel much darker, even dangerous. She could easily bring out the beast in him. Bring out the very thing he’d battled for several lifetimes now.

  How could one woman bring out such softness in him, yet still tempt his darker side like no other?

  But he knew now that Karen was a victim, not the enemy. Those dreams were warnings: not just to him, but to her, as well. He feared their message. Feared they might be a premonition of what would come if he dared give into the temptation Karen represented.

  Yet, standing in the kitchen, watching her as she interacted with his people, he had felt her torment and pain over Eva. He wanted to soothe and protect her. To reassure. Not to hurt her. It had been near impossible to control those urges. But he didn’t dare let her near. The dreams had been clear. Karen would lead him to the beast.

  He had to stay away from her.

  His chest tightened as his eyes swept her beautiful features. Why, then, did the idea of letting her out of his sight and direct care scare the hell out of him?

  Chapter 12

  Salvador flashed into the bedroom where Eva slept. He stood, invisible to human eyes, in front of the chair where Karen rested, and stared down at the woman who, unknowingly, held so many people’s destiny in her grasp.

  She was Jag’s salvation, if he would accept it. And he in turn held profound influence over his men, an influence that would ultimately impact this war of good over evil.

  Things were moving faster than expected, with the Darklands nearby and ready to attack. He’d hoped to allow Karen and Jag time to find each other again, to find their past, of their own accord. But he feared allowing things to progress too slow.

  His Knights would need more power, more skill.

  To receive it, Raphael had demanded the Knights be balanced with another pure soul, and that each Knight must accept her willingly. Karen would be the first of her kind; of the mates who would balance the dark side of the beast in his Knights and gift them with light. That Adrian had somehow found Karen first and plotted to use her existence against Jag, Salvador wasn’t surprised.

  In fact, Salvador suspected it was Raphael who’d allowed such a thing to happen. Raphael had made his position clear. Great powers awaited the Knights of White as rewards for proving their loyalty. It would be too easy for Jag to simply meet his mate and fall in love with her all over again, as he had in a prior life. Jag had to be tested. He had to taste his woman’s blood and for once allow his beast to rise, to claim it and then take control.

  Salvador found the plan distasteful. He understood the reasoning, just not the method. Had these men losing their families, all that was precious to them, not been enough torture?

  Now Adrian played with Jag’s mind, the dreams clearly a work of his creation. Adrian wanted Jag so confused that he would taste his mate’s blood and go insane, devouring her and his own soul at the same time.

  But it didn’t have to be that way. Love would show Jag the way, if he dared feel it. Karen had to know what they shared to deliver him there. To assist Jag directly in this mission was forbidden, so Salvador had to find another way.

  Salvador waved his hand in front of Karen’s face. “Awaken your past and let the memories fill the present. Let the light of day guide the way.”

  He let his hand fall to his side, satisfied as Karen murmured Jag’s name that he’d achieved his goal.

  He smiled and flashed from the room in search of Marisol’s Book of Knowledge. If all went as planned, she’d need to understand the mating mark Jag would soon give to Karen.

  Once he’d taken care of that matter, he moved on to dirtier business. On to the outskirts of the ranch where Adrian and his beasts prepared to attack.

  It was time to teach Adrian a little lesson in fair play.

  Segundo ordered his troops to take cover in the high grass just outside the boundaries of Jaguar Ranch.

  Once they were settled comfortably in position, he eased further into the night, closer to the ranch, scouting. Lowering himself to the ground on all fours, Segundo eased forward, searching for any sign of trouble.

  He found nothing but still, black night. Even the wind seemed to have vanished, the stars gone into hiding. The chatter of scattered crickets and a lone owl were the only signs of life.

  Normally Segundo would have sent another beast to do this job. But not tonight. Not when his freedom stood at risk. No. More like his existence. If this mission failed, Adrian would cremate him. Literally. As in turn him to ash.

  He was slave to that bastard, and Segundo hated it.

  One day, somehow, he’d find a way around Adrian. Find his way directly to Cain. But he also wasn’t stupid, like the last Segundo who’d literally lost his head by crossing Adrian.

  Segundo would find Adrian’s weakness—and he had one, everyone had one—and then he would use it to come out on top. To find it, Segundo knew he needed to stay tight with Adrian. To be the one who Adrian trusted to deliver results. Then Adrian would let down his guard, and Segundo would discover how to bring him down.

  Taking his time, searching the parimeters, Segundo ensured he knew all of the entry points. Mentally he adjusted his attack plan ever-so-slightly, noting a fence he’d been unaware of on the west side of the property.

  It was nearly thirty minutes later when he returned to the center point of command, where several of his most trusted beasts were. But before he could issue the slight change of plans his surveillance had made necessary, a flash of fire filled the air, and Adrian materialized.

  Adrian’s long blond hair flowed around his shoulders as the wind seemed to return, as if doing his bidding. The fair color of his locks was a drastic contrast to the battle garb of black vinyl-like pants and a matching vest: the same clothing all Darkland troops wore. Clothing made for protection in war, magically touched by Cain.

  Beasts might not die easily, b
ut the Knights knew well how to make them hurt.

  A twenty-four-inch Rapier Sword, sheathed in a case, hung from each of Adrian’s hips. Short and lethal, it could easily behead man or beast with one swipe. Daggers were tucked neatly inside Adrian’s vest, knives strapped to his thighs.

  Yet, not once had Segundo seen Adrian kill with those weapons. No. Adrian killed with the flash of fire from his hand. He simply used his armory for torture and his own entertainment.

  Adrian wouldn’t lead the Darklands to the battle. He wouldn’t lift his hand against those so beneath him as the Knights.

  “We are behind schedule,” Adrian said, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest, fixing Segundo in a stare as dark as coal, as deep as the fires in hell. “Is there a problem?”

  Segundo motioned to the two beasts he’d been directing to stand at ready. They turned and faced Adrian, hands folded in front of their bodies.

  “No, Master,” Segundo offered, stepping forward, hoping to limit his exposure to Adrian’s belittling in front of his troops. “There’s a fence on the west side I had to adjust for. We’re ready to move.”

  “I trust your men are well versed on tonight’s objective?”

  Segundo felt frustration deep in his gut and hoped Adrian did not sense it, as well. How many times would he be asked this question? For over one hundred years he’d led the army of the beast. He’ trained and directed the Darklands with precision and skill.

  “Yes, Master.”

  Adrian walked toward one of the beasts standing to Segundo’s right. Grinding his teeth, Segundo vowed to one day leave this submissive role. To have his men questioned was the worst insult he could receive, worse than any physical pain Adrian had ever placed upon him. And there had been plenty.

  “State the mission objective,” Adrian ordered the beast.

  The beast replied, “Staged kidnapping attempt, no injury to the human women. Kill the Knights, just not Jag.”

  Adrian stared at the beast, seconds passing, the air thick and hot, with his scrutiny. “As if you could kill Jag,” he said, laughter in his voice. Then, abruptly he turned on his heels, rotating to face Segundo. “I expect nothing less than perfection.”