Knights of White Bundle

by Lisa Renee Jones

  Max settled into Edward’s seat at the panel and began checking out various wires and connections.

  “I’m impressed,” Cathy said. “Sarah doesn’t let anyone inside our group, but she seems to be letting you in. She even seems to be giving you her trust. I wonder why that is.”

  The hint of suspicion gave Max pause, and he glanced up at her. “I imagine the fact that I was the only person acting sane when the rest of you were trying to kill each other.”

  “Which makes me even more curious,” she said. “Sarah is unique. She talks to dead people. I can see her having some weird immunity to all of this, but why are you immune?”

  “What are you getting at?” Max asked, starting to get irritated and not one to sidestep an issue.

  “I’m just wondering what your story is. Sarah doesn’t trust easily. Frankly, I don’t want to see her get burned.”

  His irritation disappeared as he realized Cathy was simply protecting Sarah. “I’m here to help, Cathy,” he said, looking her in the eyes and hoping she saw his sincerity. “Nothing more. Nothing less. Help. There are things going on here I don’t think any of us have faced before. We need to be united in this, so we can succeed.”

  Sarah rounded the back of the van with Edward, ending any further conversation between Max and Cathy. “The deputy is hanging back at the sheriff’s office,” Sarah explained. “Apparently, they are still getting lots of upset citizens there. So whenever we are ready, the sheriff is, too. He’s inside juggling more questions and trying to make people feel safe.”

  “I need a few more minutes to check out the equipment,” Max told her, glancing at Cathy and looking for some semblance of approval. She gave him a slow incline of her head, discreet, but definite.

  “All right then,” Sarah said to Max’s request for more time. “I need to bring them up to speed on a few things, anyway.”

  Max went back to work as Sarah filled Edward and Cathy in on what had happened back at the sheriff’s office, including the information about the town legend, her contact with the spirit and her belief that Allen was trying to bring his wife back to life.

  “If he is, he’s treading on dangerous territory,” Cathy commented, her voice full of concern. Clearly, she was their expert on the subject. “The blackest of black magic.”

  “That’s what I said, too,” Sarah affirmed. “I was hoping you would know what would be involved.”

  Cathy considered that a moment. “There are several ways, none of them good.”

  Max looked up at that, his gaze catching on Sarah’s. “Cathy comes from a family rich in magical practices,” Sarah explained, unaware that she was answering the question playing in his mind about how Cathy knew that information.

  “Magic, demonology, paranormal beings,” Cathy inserted. “You name it. I’ve studied it, or rather study it. There’s a lot to learn and know. But what I can tell you for sure is this—even the most experienced dark practitioners don’t delve into resurrecting the dead. There is a belief that raising the dead has consequences, a price that would be too horrific for anyone to bear.”

  In his four centuries of living, Max had crossed paths with a few people who had touched the dark arts. He’d made a fast path in the other direction. He made it his goal to avoid anything to do with it. Which made this little test in Nowhere all the more ironic.

  “But if you wanted to bring someone back from the dead,” Sarah asked, “it’s possible?”

  Reluctantly, Cathy inclined her head. “Yes.” She listed off several ways this might be done, ending with, “I’ve also read about certain higher-level demons granting such wishes…for a price.”

  “Really?” Sarah said, perking up. “Max mentioned a demon, as well.” She cast him an expectant look. “Didn’t you, Max?”

  Max took his time answering, knowing it was time to lay down his cards, but not eager to do so. He hated lying to Sarah. Hated it with a passion.

  Stalling, he reported on the laptop. “Its board is fried,” he said rotating around to face Sarah and her team. Edward cursed in response to the news. “Just like the one at the sheriff’s office. Which isn’t a coincidence. I would bet every computer in this town is fried. I don’t believe in coincidence.”

  Max glanced at Sarah and baited her into questioning him. “Nor do the people I work for.”

  “Which is who?” Sarah asked, just as he had hoped.

  Hesitating, Max pretended he didn’t want to answer, ready to feed them the cover story. “A special-ops team.”

  “Military?” Edward asked.

  “More covert than that. We fight the kind of wars the military would never claim existed.”

  Edward wasn’t satisfied yet. “As in the supposed alien-research center our government had been covering up for years? That kind of thing?”

  “Something like that,” Max said, trying to tell as much truth as possible.

  Quick to end the questions, he got back on task. “Which brings me back to the problems going on in Nowhere and my statement about there being no such thing as coincidence. We have a man we believe could be evoking a demon, in a town that has a legend about a demon. Seems to me we have two plus two here.”

  Sarah studied Max a minute, her gaze probing. “I can buy that. But what about the connection to Raphael?”

  Max’s eyes locked and held with Sarah’s. Clearly, she hadn’t let go of his reaction to hearing Raphael’s name. He didn’t want to lie about this. At this point, the truth was definitely not an option. Even if he did tell them that Raphael oversaw an immortal army of demon hunters, and that he himself happened to be one of those immortals, it wasn’t as if they would believe him. He needed to do some fast thinking and talking.

  Fortunately, Cathy aided his efforts with her own insertion. “Raphael is the healer of humanity, and that is why he is often called upon for healing in prayers and from those who practice angel magic,” she said, proving she’d done her homework in this area, as well. “But he’s also believed to be a protector of humanity and a mighty warrior when it’s demanded of him. If we choose to assume the legend is true, including Raphael’s involvement, then that indicates to me that the demon in question is a powerful one, worthy of angelic intervention. In other words, an upper-level demon, which would be required to resurrect the dead. Who knows what a powerful demon such as this one is capable of doing.” Her brows dipped. “If Allen Walker is evoking this kind of upper-level demon, he could inadvertently set it free.” Cathy looked from Max to Sarah. “I need to do more research for information on this kind of practice. Maybe one of my reference books will help. Did either of you see the name of the demon?”

  “No name,” Max said. “Part of the page in that book was torn away. Maybe the sheriff can help us there.”

  His eyes met Sarah’s for several long moments. Max could see that she knew there was more to tell that he hadn’t shared. Hopefully her instinct to trust her mate would make her tolerant of his silence. Damn it, he hated this need for secrecy. He tore his eyes from hers, exiting the van. “We should go,” he grumbled. “I need to grab a room and pull some supplies from my bags.”

  And then he walked away, feeling Sarah’s stare on his back, his heart pounding with the turbulence of his thoughts. He prayed he was making the right choices. What should he tell Sarah and what should he keep to himself? He wanted to tell her everything, but he also knew that too much too fast could push her away. And if that happened, protecting her could become difficult. He needed to keep her close and safe. To do that, like it or not, he had to keep these secrets. And when he did share his world, he wanted it to be forever.

  And right now, he wasn’t sure he had that to give.

  Sarah watched Max depart as she leaned on the door of the van, her stomach twisting into a knot of conflicting emotion. Why did she want to call him back rather than let him walk away? He’d be right back. What was wrong with her?

  “I’ve never seen you trust anyone so quickly,” Cathy warned, as if reading Sarah�
��s mind. “The man has secrets. Lots of them. I think we should take everything he gives us with a grain of salt until we can confirm his story.”

  “How will we do that?” Edward asked with a snort, hand on his hips. “Call the army and ask if they have a covert paranormal team that they pretend doesn’t exist?”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass, Edward,” Cathy said, cutting him an irritated glance. “We’re dealing with something really evil here. For all we know, Max could be part of it. He was the only other person who didn’t go psycho at the inn earlier. Just being a part of some special-ops team wouldn’t make him immune to evil.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Sarah asked, apprehensive as she waited on Cathy’s reply, worried about where this might be going.

  “We know what makes you different and why you weren’t affected by the rage, as the rest of us were,” Cathy said, waving her hands around in an animated fashion. “But why wasn’t Max? What if it’s because evil is immune to evil?” She continued immediately, “If we are going to intimately invite this guy into our investigation, don’t you think we need to know more about him?”

  “I hate to admit it,” Edward said, “but she does have a point.”

  Satisfaction flickered in Cathy’s eyes. She loved being right and Edward rarely allowed her that privilege. Obviously empowered by the approval, she added, “If we think Allen’s cabin is the source of evil, or close to that source, taking Max might be a mistake. What if he somehow makes that source stronger?”

  “On the other hand,” Edward interjected, sitting on the bumper and crossing his booted feet, “if Max is one of the good guys, he might know something we don’t. He might be the ticket to beating this thing.”

  Cathy scowled at Edward while Sarah drew a deep breath. “I’ll talk to Max and decide from there,” Sarah said after a moment of consideration. “That’s the best I can do under the circumstances.” She glanced at the stormy sky as the wind kicked up speed, lifting her hair from her shoulders. The change in weather brought with it concern that it somehow signaled some new event about to unfold. “Tell the sheriff I’d like to be out of here in fifteen minutes.” Sarah didn’t wait for a reply; she started walking toward the inn.

  She needed to talk to Max, to figure out what he was really all about. To make a decision about his involvement, though she wasn’t really sure how.

  Cathy was right to be cautious. Sarah’s trust of Max wasn’t anywhere close to her normal reaction to strangers. Still, even knowing this, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that keeping Max by her side had life and death consequences. If only she could figure out why.

  Cathy’s suggestion that Max could be connected to evil came to her mind. Was this connection she felt to Max a product of evil? She didn’t think so, but how could she be sure? And if she wasn’t sure, could she allow him near the cabin, the place from where they felt the evil originated? Wouldn’t that be pressing their luck?

  Thunder rumbled in the background and hail started to fall. Sarah climbed the steps to the inn at a trot, feeling a sudden urgency to get a move on things. Time was a luxury she didn’t have. People’s lives could well be on the line in this town, and she had to take action to make sure everyone was safe—and do so now.

  She drew in a labored breath, hating the choice she knew she had to make. But, she couldn’t take risks by allowing strangers into their inner circle. That’s how she had operated since her parents’ death and it had worked. Max couldn’t go with them to the cabin, and he wasn’t going to like it one bit. But if she let him, and something happened to Edward or Cathy, she’d never forgive herself.

  This was the right decision.

  So why did it feel so wrong?

  Chapter 7

  Max sank down onto the mattress in the center of the cozy little room, with its floral curtains and lacy pillows, feeling like a fish out of water. More so than he’d ever felt. Somehow, the environment emphasized the darkness growing inside him.

  The truth was he knew nothing of the softer side of life, of family and love. He’d come from a noble English family, and in those early days, he’d been known as Maxwell Kingsley, “the spare to the heir,” the younger of two boys. Despite how belittling his family had been to him, how abusive and downright vicious at times, they had been all he knew, all he had. And they had been taken from him—stripped away by the Beasts and violently bled dry.

  The centuries since had done nothing to stop that horrible day from replaying in his head in vivid, sickening color. Keeping others from falling prey to the Beasts had been the only peace his life had held, the only purpose.

  He shoved off the bed and flipped open a long suitcase full of weapons, the velvet lining inside hugging several long blades, the tools of his trade. The method of destroying a Darkland Beast. They were tools that held no answers to defeating this new enemy, to finding a path that would deliver him to victory rather than defeat—and victory was the only answer. His hands slid over the silver of one blade; the power he wielded with it was fresh in his memories of battlefield victories.

  Whatever meant to harm this town would not succeed, Max silently vowed. He would protect this town. And he would protect Sarah. His mate. He became more confident of their bond with every passing moment, her presence touching him deep in his soul. A knock sounded on the door and he knew who it was without ever opening it. Sarah. She wouldn’t be here if not to ask for answers. Answers he wasn’t sure he could offer her.

  He walked to the door and pressed his hand to the wooden surface, closing his eyes. Damn. She was so close and so far away at the same time. He wanted to rip away the barriers, to open the door and pull her close. To tell her everything and more. “Max?” she called when he didn’t respond. “It’s me. Sarah.”

  He forced himself to keep that door shut, that barrier between them. “I’ll be down in less than five minutes,” he said, hoping she’d accept that and leave.

  Nothing. Silence. But he could still hear her breathing. Could feel the turbulence of her emotions, feel them with odd certainty, as if they were his own. He’d heard the mated Knights speak of such things. Even with the heavy wood between them, the warmth of her presence wrapped around him, overwhelming him with its intimacy, with her nearness.

  “Max…”

  He turned back to the bed, shoving the suitcase lid down to hide the weapons and setting it on the floor. A second later, he yanked the door open, bringing Sarah into focus. Instantly, her green eyes melted into his, his groin tightening with the impact. He grabbed her and pulled her into the room, shutting the door behind them, his actions pure, protective instinct.

  He flipped the locks firmly into place and turned to find Sarah directly behind him, barely inches away. He clutched his fists by his sides to keep from reaching for her. “What is it, Sarah? What’s wrong? Did something else happen?”

  Confusion flickered in her eyes as she searched his face, probing with intense scrutiny. “Nothing. Everything is fine.” But it wasn’t fine. If he hadn’t sensed her turmoil, then her hesitation before continuing would have been enough to make that clear. “I simply wanted to tell you we’re headed out to Allen’s cabin. I was hoping you’d keep an eye on things back here? Maybe check in on the deputy?”

  He’d expected questions, not this. He rejected her words with force. “You’re not going out there alone. I’m going with you.”

  A flash of anger darted through her eyes. “You’re not in a position to make demands. The sheriff hired me, not you. I make the rules and I say you’re not going with us. That’s how this is going to happen.”

  “No, sweetheart, it’s not. I’m going and that is final.”

  She laughed with disbelief. “You’re a piece of work, Max. Your macho, bossy attitude goes over well for about all of one minute.” She hardened her voice. “You’re not going, Max. That’s the bottom line here. My team doesn’t trust you.”

  He didn’t miss her reference to her “team’s” distrust. What about her trust? “D
o you trust me?” he asked, knowing she did, knowing their destiny as mates would make that a given.

  “I don’t even know you, Max.”

  Those were the wrong words for one mate to utter to another, though he wouldn’t have known that before she issued them. Possessiveness rushed through Max with the force of a volcanic eruption. Sarah knew him better than any other person in existence, and he wanted her to realize that, wanted her to know it as she had never known anything else in her life. The fierceness of those emotions sent Max into action. This was his woman, and everything male in him demanded she be clear on that fact.

  One minute they were glaring at each other in a standoff, the next she was in his arms, her soft curves molded against his aroused body, her sweet lips pressed to his. He felt her fingers pressed to his shoulders as if she would resist, her body stiff, yet she made no movement to exit the embrace. Nor was Max about to give her the chance to come to her senses.

  Wasting no time, his tongue swept past her teeth, gliding along them, and tempting her into response. She moaned, a sensual purr of a sound that drove him wild with desire. His palms flattened on her lower back as her arms slid around his neck, her chest pressing into his.

  Never in his life had Max felt as complete as he did with Sarah in his arms, with the sweet taste of her on his tongue. He belonged to Sarah, with Sarah, as he had never belonged in his entire life. Peace filled him, and when he would have reveled in the purity of it, the feeling was yanked away, the beast flaring to life with vicious intensity. It wanted her. All of her. To claim her. To make her his beyond a simple moment in time. A taste wasn’t enough. A touch wasn’t enough. Yet the man in him knew it had to be enough. For now, it had to be. He couldn’t cave to the urges of his darker side. A war raged inside him as he battled between the right thing to do and what the beast demanded of him.

  If there had been any doubt in Max’s mind that Sarah was his mate, then those moments where beast and man battled did away with it. Only when answering the mating call did a Knight bear the cuspids of a Beast. And the truth became dangerously obvious as Max’s gums tingled, and his teeth threatened to elongate.