He flicked at the blond lock. “I take it she rejected you?”
“Unless she speaks Skandavian, she doesn’t know. That’s why the bond is not complete.” Kristos pulled a shirt and a pair of jeans from the dresser.
“What else?”
“She’s stubborn.”
“No.” He shook his head and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You did something. I can feel it on my skin like sandpaper. What did you do?”
Kristos scowled. With all of their abilities heightened on Earth, it was even more difficult to hide emotions he’d rather not have Lucian pick up on.
“I might have forbid her to work.”
Lucian raised a brow. His lips twitched before he let loose with a deep chuckle, transforming his stern, drawn features into the charismatic man Kristos remembered. “You do have a suicide wish, don’t you? The pride that woman has for her profession shines around her like a halo. It’s her calling. She worked hard and made sacrifices to obtain her position. Did you think she would give it all up because of your profession of love?” When he didn’t respond Lucian rolled his eyes. “Mercy take you, you did. It takes a strong woman to be mated to a Llanos and I’ve never thought of the sheriff as weak.”
His spine snapped in indignation. “I know she’s not weak. Brett is one of the strongest women I’ve ever known. She’s brave, intelligent and has a warrior’s spirit that not even half of our troops possessed. What that one tiny woman can accomplish frankly scares the shit out of me.”
“Imagine the damage she could do if she knew our origins.”
Kristos controlled his wince and continued to prepare for his shower, only to be pushed against the wall to face his brother’s volcanic rage. “You told her!”
He pushed back against the solid wall of muscle. “Of course I did. She’s my mate.”
“Let me see if I understand.” Lucian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have exposed your abilities to the public, fallen for a human who is the chief protector of her community, interfered with her duties, told her that you are an alien with superhuman powers, then forbade her from fulfilling her sworn oath after partially bonding with her.”
“Maybe not in that order, but yes. Sit down before you hyperventilate.” Kristos pushed his brother to sit on the bed. “Actually, she took the alien part very well. She was intrigued, compassionate. I sensed no fear from her. It couldn’t have gone better, until she was called into work. Which reminds me, Brett’s reaction to our origins is the least of our worries.”
“Let me guess, you’ve scheduled a press conference as the Chameleon and are announcing that you are taking over the police force.”
He wished, but Brett would have his balls in a vise if he dared suggest it. “No. Yesterday, when I was in that tunnel, I lost my powers.”
Lucian turned statue still. “Explain.”
“I don’t know if I can. There I was, moving rock and dirt, forging a path to free Brett. The deeper I got, the more my muscles ached, my speed slowed. It was as if something was leaching away my strength. I felt human.”
“Any other side effects?” Lucian jumped to his feet and began to pace. His movements reminded Kristos of the general Lucian once was. As Lucian paced, he tapped his finger against the tip of his nose.
“Just a lingering lethargy. It reminded me of that four-day training exercise over the Tulitian Mountains, when every man in the corps wanted you dead for pushing our bodies beyond all limits. No one was able to move without wincing for at least a week.”
His eyes lit up with the memory. “When did your strength return?”
“As soon I climbed out of that hole. I wasn’t back to normal, but significantly better.”
“There must be something there, a mineral or plant life that affects our powers,” he mused out loud. “What is this tunnel used for?”
“That’s one of the issues. It’s not supposed to be there. The national park is a protected area. It was pure misfortune that those adolescents were there when the roof collapsed. There was another cave-in this morning a quarter of a mile away but along the same path. I followed Brett to the site. She suspects that someone is hiding something. Once she made it safely to the station I came back here.”
“I’ll do some research on the geology of the area, collect some specimens.” Lucian strode toward the door with an energy in each long-legged stride Kristos hadn’t seen since they fought the Revolutionaries. He stopped in the doorway and turned back with a pointed finger. “I have not forgotten about your actions. I forbid you from donning the royal armor again.”
Kristos scoffed. As if he would allow himself to be treated like a child. “You forbid me?”
“You do everything you can to prevent Brett from confronting danger because you say you love her. Well, you are my brother and I love you. I will not allow you to continue on this path that will lead to nothing but our destruction. If you want this woman so badly, go to her, talk to her, but this Chameleon nonsense ends now.” He lowered his head and his green eyes glowed with a warning that once made entire armies fall to their knees. “If she doesn’t stop you, I will.”
Chapter Eight
Brett stepped into the station and stopped short as the overwhelming stench of cheap perfume filled her nostrils. She took several halting steps toward her receptionist’s desk and asked quietly, “Who’s here?”
Janice snuck a quick glance toward the partially opened office door and whispered, “Council members Schmidt, Meeker and Mrs. Dubois.”
Fan-fucking-tastic. “In ten minutes I want you to come into my office and declare a national emergency, got it?”
“Yes ma’am.” The older woman covered her mouth and giggled as her eyes danced behind her bifocals.
Brett opened the door and strode boldly into her office. “Good afternoon. I thought the next council meeting wasn’t for another week.”
Milton Schmidt got to his feet and pulled on the cuffs of his suit and smoothed back his lacquered salt-and-pepper hair. “Hello, Sheriff. No, you’re correct about the next meeting. We’re here on a different matter.”
She said nothing and closed the door. Clarice Dubois sat in Brett’s chair behind her desk, stinking up the upholstery. “Excuse me, Clarice, but I believe you’ll be more comfortable over there.”
Clarice raised an over-plucked brow, but sulked to the armchair on the other side of the office. “Sheriff, you must tell me your secret on how you manage to keep your hair so flat. I have such trouble taming my full tresses.” She patted the helmet of bleached-blonde hair that curled around her shoulders.
Brett ignored the childish dig and looked back at the men. “How might I assist you?”
Schmidt and Meeker shared a look that put her immediately on guard.
“We received a call from Jebadiah Neimi,” Schmidt answered. “He doesn’t like the aspersions you’ve been making on his character.”
“And what are those, exactly?” she asked.
Meeker cleared his throat and pulled at his long, gray beard. “He said that you’re accusing him of a crime.”
She pinched her lips into a tight line and nodded. “Mr. Neimi is indeed a person of interest and I treated him like I do any other suspect.”
“And what crime are you accusing him of?”
“I can’t discuss details of an open investigation. But I can say that I didn’t go disturb the man because I don’t have anything better to do.”
The men shared another look while Clarice whipped out an emery board and started in on her thick, acrylic nails. Meeker furrowed his brow and nodded to Schmidt, egging him on.
“Sheriff, Jebadiah Neimi is a respected member of this community. I’m sure that this is all just a big misunderstanding.”
That same tingle of ickiness she felt in Neimi’s office snaked down her back. “What are you saying, Mr. Schmidt?”
He raised his hands in a silent plea. “Let’s forget about Jebadiah and concentrate on something more productive,
like the Founder’s Day festival.”
The fucking Founder’s Day Festival?
She forced down the curse that rumbled in her throat and took a step forward. The smile that curled her lip was pure honey as she slowly reached up and removed her sunglasses to reveal a narrowed, white-eyed glare.
Schmidt and Meeker jumped back with a gasp that was almost comical.
“You hired me to protect this community, did you not?” she asked in a low, deep voice.
Schmidt recovered first. “Yes, but we also hired you because we knew you would understand that we need to protect our friends as well.”
“That’s the second time today that I’ve heard the word friend and it sounded filthy. I’m well aware of what my job is and it’s not to play favorites. Anyone who commits a crime will be arrested, no matter who it is. If I catch any of you so much as crossing a street against the big red hand, I will ticket you at the maximum fine. And if you try to stop me, I will arrest you for obstruction of justice. Am I clear?”
“Sheriff,” Schmidt choked, trying to laugh off her warning while Meeker whimpered and tugged at his suspenders. No wonder Neimi had them by the short and curlies. “We aren’t suggesting you bend the rules.”
“Could’ve fooled me. What would you call it?”
“Excuse me, Sheriff,” Janice poked her head around the door. “There’s an emergency and you’re needed immediately.”
“One second, Janice. Gentlemen, Mrs. Dubois, I think this conversation is over. You know where I stand. And I know where you stand. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.”
She marched out of the room with her head high and morals firmly intact. Her ego was a bit battered at the realization that she hadn’t been hired for ability but her supposed malleability. Ha! The joke was on them. They hired a real sheriff so they could kiss her ass.
“Thanks, Janice. I owe you a coffee.”
“Sheriff.” She stopped Brett with an anxious grip on her sleeve. “I wasn’t making that up. There’s been a landslide in Harper’s Ravine. It’s blocking the river and the banks have been breached.”
“It’s blocking the entire river?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Tell them I’m on my way.”
She raced out of the station and jumped into her car. Pressing the pedal to the floorboard, she sent the Crown Vic soaring over a hump in the road and landed with a teeth-jarring bounce.
With the river blocked, more than their little community would be affected. Along the banks lay dairy farms, fields of hops and barley, and towns like Cedar that would be washed away with a sudden deluge of water and debris if the pressure behind the blockade grew too great and was released too quickly. Upstream lay prime logging country and the mill that employed over half the town. But Brett’s biggest concern was the Old Saw Bridge, so named for the crisscross pattern of antique two-man saws that decorated the railings. The bridge sat in the middle of Harper’s Ravine, and with rush hour approaching, it would be teeming with vehicles.
She spotted Collins, Dawson and two other deputies at the scenic pullout over the river. She threw the car in park, but left the engine running as she raced to the edge of the ravine. “How’s it looking?”
“Like God took a big piss,” Dawson answered.
“Thank you for the visual.”
A half a mile to her left was the twisted mess of rock, trees and dirt that formed the crude dam. Her brow furrowed as she followed the line of destruction over the ridge and into the forest. Unless she was mistaken, it was the same path the tunnel and cave-ins ran along.
At this part of the ravine the river reached ten feet down and spanned twenty yards. The dirty water batted against the dam, swirling and churning like a frothy milk shake. The backwash tore at the surrounding hillside as the downhill rush fought for dominance.
On her right, the Old Saw Bridge shook under the force of opposing currents. Water splashed up the sides and licked the undercarriage, ready to make a meal of the wood structure and appetizers of automobiles traversing along the top.
“Jesus,” Brett cursed. “Why isn’t the bridge closed?”
“We were waiting for you,” Collins answered.
Her eyes popped out of their sockets. “If it’s a choice between waiting for me or death, I choose not death for everyone.”
“Look, it’s the Chameleon,” Deputy Joyce called out. She pulled a tube from her pocket and slicked on a layer of lip gloss then smoothed out the wrinkles in her coat. “Man, look at him go.”
Brett leaned over the retaining wall to catch a better glimpse of the man in blue jeans and a black hoodie, racing down the hillside. He scrambled along the top of the makeshift dam and began clearing the largest boulders from the center. Her heart swelled and lodged in her throat as a tree trunk broke loose and came crashing straight for his head. He looked up and swatted it away like a volleyball, sending it soaring across the water to land with a huge splash.
“Who is he and can I get his number?” Joyce purred.
The deputies crowded around Brett, jockeying for the best spot to witness the spectacle.
“Crazy son of a bitch,” she cried and spun to face the group of men and one woman standing with their mouths hanging open. “Collins, Jaeger. Get down there and close that bridge. Dawson, Joyce. Call the city. I want a front-end loader at that dam, now.”
“Where are you going?” Dawson asked as she jumped into her car.
“To stop that crazy ass from getting killed.”
The car’s engine caught with a roar as she pressed on the gas and tore off down the road. Tires squealed as she left the asphalt for a dirt trail usually used by meth runners, pot smokers and ATVs. Her teeth clashed together at a particularly rough bump, but she kept the pedal pressed to the floor.
What was Kristos thinking? He was a royal bodyguard and a river rat for Pete’s sake, not a civil engineer or Superman. If the trees didn’t crush him, then the water would suck him down to his death.
“You can’t go, Brett,” she mimicked his low baritone. “You’ll endanger yourself and leave me all on my lonesome. Mother fucker. What do you call this? It’s all right for you to risk your life, but not me?”
Sweat poured in her eyes and she flung the sunglasses away to better see the sun-dappled lane. More sweat gathered in her palms, making them slippery on the steering wheel.
Was this terrifying fear for his safety simply compassion for the welfare of another person, or was the thought of a future without Kristos too devastating to imagine?
So what if he was from another planet? He possessed most of the important human body parts, some more impressive than others. His view on a woman’s role in a relationship needed some serious readjustments, but he did genuinely care for her. Could she risk her heart, and his, by answering the plea in his jade-green eyes?
Ah, crap. You fell in love with him.
Denying the truth was useless. The man could sense her emotions so what good did it do to refute them? She may be in love with him but that didn’t mean he had all of the power. Once this was over, she was going to have a nice sit-down chat with Mr. He-man. What was good for the goose was going to be branded on the gander with a hot iron if they were to have any type of relationship.
Up ahead the lane dropped off to where the Cedar River cut into the ravine. Brett hit the brakes and turned the wheel hard to the right. Rubber flew in all directions as smoke and dirt spewed from the tires on the passenger side of the cruiser. Metal grated on rock as she skidded toward the cliff in a frame-by-frame slide show until the ground gave way to nothingness. Her entire body locked in place and she closed her eyes tight as the back end of the sedan slipped over the edge.
A vision of Kristos’ devilish smile was the last thing remembered as she wailed, “Son of a bitch!”
Suddenly, the car jerked from its downward momentum, her seat belt tightening across her torso. Her eyes flew opened and, as if she conjured him from a dream, she saw Kristos through the dirt-stre
aked windshield. The muscles in his arms strained as he gripped the car’s bumper. His lips pulled back on a snarl as he dragged the two-ton machine back onto flat terrain.
The entire universe faded away as Brett sat in shock. Her fingers remained curled around the steering wheel and her eyes dried out from the inability to blink. Her lips tried to move, but her brain refused to function. Every synapse was a scrambled mess.
She was saved? How could that be? The car was going over the edge. She had been looking up at the overcast sky. She was supposed to be dead or at least severely jacked up.
Kristos ran to her door and yanked it so hard it came off the hinges with a metallic shriek. He snapped the seat belt out of the console and hauled her into his arms with so much force she knew he left bruises.
“By the Gods, Brett, I thought I wouldn’t make it.” She barely heard him over the roar of blood racing in her ears. “I thought you were gone.” He peppered her face and hair with kisses. His big hands tracked down her back and sides then up to cup her face. “My alskata.”
His blazing kiss began the slow thaw of her brain functions. Spiked with terror and relief, his lips and tongue reawakened her nerve endings and jolted her to consciousness. She melted into the kiss, breathing in his scent and the sting of cold mountain air. Her hands curled in his shirt, absorbing the solid strength of his pounding chest under her palms.
She pulled away with a gasp. “Oh God, what happened?”
He smoothed the hair that escaped her braid. “I felt your distress and came running, but then it spiked to terror.” He buried his face in her neck and muttered a litany of words she didn’t understand.
Despite the radiant heat of his body, her teeth chattered. Adrenaline heightened all of her senses. The crisp air, filled with the heavy scent of wet dirt and smoke, choked her, and the brilliant blue of his shirt was blinding.
Blue shirt.
“I don’t understand,” she murmured and ran her hands over the electric-blue cotton, shaking her head in confusion. “How did you know where I was?”
“I followed you from the lookout.”
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