“I am here because you called and pulled me out of the void.” His expression was confused. “My job is as it has always been—to protect the gates.”
“You’re the one keeping the portals from opening.” Even as she blurted out the accusation, she knew it was true. They could leave! The students—her guys—would be out of danger. “Why? You could portal everyone to safety.”
“The infection cannot spread.” He cocked his head, still seeming confused by her anger.
“Like a failsafe.” Part of her understood his reasoning—they had no way of knowing how the infection would impact humans. “And those not infected?” Her mind flashed to MacGregor and the other students. She avoided looking at her team.
“It is too much to risk. I am here to stop the two realms from colliding. You will either save this realm or we will all die here.” His brows furrowed. “You woke me, pulled me from the void for a reason…to do my job.”
Morgan closed her eyes at the hard tone of his voice.
He didn’t enjoy the job any more than she did.
Like her, he was stuck.
Of all the stupid, stubborn, jackass, moronic things—
“Morgan.”
She hadn’t realized that she was speaking out loud, until Kincade shot her an amused glance. She heaved a sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “He’s right.”
“You need to find the heart of the infection, find a way to eradicate it before there’s nothing left to save.” Ward glanced between the two of them, then lifted a brow at her. “You two need to talk. I’ll rouse the others and set up camp.” He didn’t wait, just strode away.
“Do you trust him?” Kincade kept his voice neutral.
“Not completely.” She watched him wake the others with just a touch, turning away when Ascher and Ryder began to pull on their clothes. “His purpose is to save the realm. He would sacrifice us in an instant to achieve that end.” She reached up and stroked Loki’s snout.
“He is right about one thing.” Morgan stiffened at Kincade’s hard voice. “We do need to talk. You need to understand why I’m—”
“So stubborn? Such a hard-ass?” Morgan asked innocently.
Kincade cracked a smile, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t enjoy pushing you.”
She raised a dubious brow.
“Much.” He conceded through gritted teeth. “I’ve lost too many people in my life. The thought of losing you is—I can’t bear it.”
The ragged tone of his voice held her motionless. “I’m a trained assassin. You’re not going to lose me so easily.”
A harsh, bitter laugh escaped him. When he met her gaze, his green eyes were haunted. “My mother hooked up with a man on one of her drunken binges, not realizing his story of being a gargoyle was real until I was born. When symptoms of my heritage started to manifest, she gave me up, not wanting to be saddled raising a freak. I was left to run wild in the streets. It didn’t take me long to realize that children are a rich commodity. I was able to defend myself, but many were not. When I accidently beat a man to death when he tried to snatch a child under my care, I was taken into custody.”
“What happened?” Morgan’s stomach churned, knowing he wasn’t telling her everything, keeping the worst of it from her.
“No paranormal can stay in the system without being discovered by humans. A man from the Academy found me. Money exchanged hands to ensure my case was lost. He became my guardian and trained me.” The first genuine smile lightened his face. “I was admitted to the Academy early, thanks to him. I was good. I thought I knew everything. When I went home for holiday, a rift opened. The coven sent out a team to deal with the problem, and I followed my guardian, determined to prove to him and myself that I was no longer a child.”
“How old were you?” Morgan wanted to stop him from reliving the pain of his past, but whatever happened still festered, molding him into an unbending man who didn’t know how to move past his childhood and live in the present.
“Twelve.”
Morgan winced, and he gave her a rueful smile. “I thought I knew everything. I was at the top of my class, destined for the elites. I wanted to hunt with him, he was one of the best, and I wanted to show him that his belief in me wasn’t misplaced. I was too impatient and stupid to realize it was a trap. I charged right into the fight despite their warning shout.
“By then it was too late. They came after me, targeted me. My guardian gave his life, saving me at the cost of his own. I saw him and his men, the very people who saved me from the slums and raised me as family, torn apart before my eyes.” He raked his fingers through his hair, turned to look out over the water. “I barely survived. It was weeks before I could walk, months before I could fight.”
“Cade—”
“There was even talk of expelling me from the Academy.” He whirled to face her. “From that point forward, only one thing mattered—to make sure no one else ever suffered the same fate.”
“So you became driven, focused, the youngest elite with a perfect record.”
“Until you.”
Her mouth snapped shut at his confession. He stalked toward her, roughly grabbing her jaw to tip her head back. “You terrify the shit out of me. You throw yourself into a fight, never thinking about the consequences.”
He brushed his fingers along her skin, then dropped his hand. “I know firsthand what happens to others around people like us.”
Morgan flinched as if he’d struck her…because what he said was true. She nearly cost MacGregor and her team their lives on more than one occasion. “In our profession, no amount of training can guarantee our safety.”
He blanched, and she grabbed his shirt when he started to move away. “But one thing can mitigate the risks…a team you can trust.” She poked him in the chest. “You taught me that. But it doesn’t work unless you trust me in turn.”
“I can’t lose you.” He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, as if looking at her was too painful. “I won’t.”
“Cade.” Her heart ached for everything he’d lost, but she ruthlessly shoved away the emotions. She touched his shoulders, then reached back, grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, until she was sure she had his attention. “You’re setting yourself—and me—up to fail. I’ll never be good enough according to your standards. We have a job that constantly puts us in danger. You can’t protect me from life. You’re living in fear, pushing me away to avoid what may or may not happen. I deserve better than that.” She tightened her grip and shook him, wishing she could get him to understand. “You deserve better than that.”
He grabbed her wrist, his grip hard, almost brutal, as he brought her wrist up to his mouth and brushed his lips against her pulse. “You’ll have to be patient with me, kick my ass when I don’t listen.”
“I can do that.” She gave him a bright smile, her heart leaping in her chest at his concession and the chance for a real future as part of the team. Almost giddy, she allowed herself the pleasure of running her fingers through his hair. “You won’t regret your decision.”
No, he wouldn’t, because Kincade was determined that nothing would ever happen to her under his watch. He flexed his shoulders, his skin suddenly feeling too tight. His nails hardened, lengthening into claws, ready to defend her against whatever presumed to take her from him.
While Morgan walked back to the makeshift camp the team was preparing, he wrapped his hand around the knife tucked at his waist to hide the way his hands shook over how close he’d come to losing her over his own stupidity.
He followed her, unable to tear his gaze away from the graceful, athletic way she moved. She was right. He couldn’t protect her from everything, but that didn’t mean he sure as hell couldn’t try.
“You need to rest.” While the rest of the team collected wood for the fire, Kincade sat in front of the small flames and grabbed Morgan’s hand when she walked behind him. He tugged, pulling her off balance, using her own momentum to drag her ov
er his shoulder before catching her close to his chest. Her oomph and startled expression when she landed in his lap made him smile.
The gardog sprang from his perch and thunked to the ground, scampering away with a little growl and roar, snapping at the sparks of flame that floated up from the spitting fire.
Kincade lowered her gently, using her stunned silence to stretch out at her side, slipping his arm under her head. He remained tense, half expecting her to scramble to her feet and dash away. “You haven’t closed your eyes since you arrived in this realm. We need you to be at the top of your game if you’re planning to save the world.”
“I’m too exhausted to sleep.” Despite her protest, Morgan wiggled her butt into a more comfortable position, and his arm tightened around her possessively.
Only when she settled did he allow himself to relax, and he trailed his fingers over the dainty silver filigree marks on her arms that bound them together. Every time he touched her, he could feel the connection between them strengthen, and he once again called himself a fool for nearly losing her because of his own stubborn stupidity.
The mutt crept closer, almost indistinguishable from the darkness, head close to the ground, his butt wiggling in the air. He charged forward, barking and nipping playfully at the finger he traced over Morgan, causing her to laugh in delight. The game only lasted a few minutes before the mutt sneaked closer and crawled between them, promptly falling into a trusting sleep.
“Where did you find him?”
“The gargoyle in the garden carved him for me.” She stroked her finger over the mutt’s ear, smiling when he wiggled and growled as if chasing his prey.
With a pang, he wished she would touch him the same way. He cleared his throat, nearly forgetting what he was going to say when she looked up at him with her big, striking blue eyes. “He didn’t carve the mutt, not like the other pieces he left you. He took a piece of his soul and created the hound to protect you. It’s very rare, and a great honor. They only awaken when they select a person they deem worthy and bond to them.”
Morgan appeared flustered, uncomfortable at his words, and his heart thudded hard against his ribs when it appeared she would pull away from him. He barely resisted rubbing his chest, knowing it would do little to alleviate the pain. “There are only a few full gargoyles remaining,” he continued. “Most of them have turned to stone and never returned.”
“But you’re a gargoyle.”
He gave into temptation and smoothed out the frown lines between her eyes. “I’m young. My full form doesn’t manifest for a few hundred years. I must prove myself a worthy protector before I gain the ability to turn completely.”
When she didn’t protest his touch, he allowed his fingers to wander into her soft, black hair, marveling as the strands curled around his fingers. She nibbled her lip, and his breathing stopped as he watched, the hunger to steal a kiss eradicating every other thought in his head.
“Why didn’t the phoenix kill me?” Her troubled eyes met his, pulling his mind out of his pants and off his cock.
“You saved his life, protected him.” His mind lit upon an idea, and hope surged through him. “He could be acting as a familiar.”
“A familiar?” She said it suspiciously, her nose scrunching slightly in a way he found endearing.
“Some animals have the ability to bind themselves to others, vowing to protect their chosen. Only when he’s saved your life will he be given the chance to be free.”
“That sounds an awful lot like slavery.” Morgan muttered, turning to stare into the fire.
Kincade shook his head, praying he was right. “It is a mutually beneficial connection. Some creatures can’t survive on their own. They need a protector. It’s considered a great honor.”
Kincade refused to believe anything else, because if he was wrong, it would cost her everything, even her life.
Chapter Seventeen
A sharp prick of cold steel nicked the base of Morgan’s throat, awaking her instantly. A trickle of blood dribbled down her neck, and she looked up to see a woman with blackened veins and blacker eyes sneering down at her. “Get up.”
Kincade’s arms tightened around her, impotent rage vibrating from him, and she realized they must have fallen asleep. Loki squirmed between them, and Kincade tucked the hound down his shirt. Only when the little bugger was safe did Kincade slowly rise to his feet. Five spears were aimed at his vitals. He ignored them, offering Morgan a hand to help her up.
When she glanced around their small camp, she saw everyone else was already captured and bound, their weapons tossed in a nearby pile. “What happened?”
“Idiots.” The woman stepped forward, kicking out the fire, shaking her head. “The trees here are not hospitable, and take their revenge on those who think to chop them down. When they burn, the smoke contains a strong opiate. It only takes a few deep breaths to fall under the spell. As soon as you lit the fire, you gave away your location and sealed your fate.”
The women, five of them in total, had different shades of green skin, while a few of them even had patches of moss clinging to them. They wore bark like armor, with twigs, leaves and vines curled around them in place of clothing.
Dryads.
Normally they were shy creatures—she glanced at the fire they had built—unless you set their sacred forest on fire. Morgan knew the lore, but the trees were so twisted and gnarled, it never occurred to her that their caretakers were still alive. Neither had Atlas, if she read his self-loathing expression right.
“Hands.” The woman in charge was older than the rest, her spear at the ready, clearly hoping they would object so she could kill them.
Not wanting to provoke them any more than necessary, Morgan held out her hands. Vines rose from the ground, twined around her arms from elbow to wrist, effectively holding her captive. The vines were rough, the bark abrading her skin. They clung to her arms similar to grapevines on steroids, threatening to cut off her circulation.
“Move.” One of the younger girls slammed her spear into Morgan’s back, sending her stumbling forward. Ryder growled and lunged forward to steady her with his arm, while Ascher and Kincade quickly placed themselves between her and the dryads. Ward didn’t pay any attention to their antics, remaining focused on the real threat, and she subtly shook her head, asking him to back down.
“We’ll go with you peacefully.” Morgan straightened, blowing away a lock of hair that fell across her face.
The men hesitated a moment longer, then fell into step around her like a protective wall. She watched the dryads as they moved, noting they weren’t in the best of shape. The black veins almost seemed to throb, actively feeding off them, the dryads’ greenery a bit wilted and withered in spots.
“Why are you sane while others acted like vicious animals in search of their next meal?” None of the women seemed inclined to answer, and frustration got the best of her. “We came here to see if we can stop the infection, but we need more information about how it spreads.”
“Stop it?” The leader laughed, the sound carrying like slightly-out-of-tune wind chimes. “You can’t do anything to help us, little girl. The infection, as you call it, is slowly consuming the magic that keeps us alive. We’re only sane because it hasn’t had a chance to steal our souls yet.”
Which must mean the trees they were tied to were still alive.
As they traveled deeper into the forest, Morgan noted the mist seemed to be stalking them. Wisps of fog crept along the ground like a clawed hand reaching for her.
She stopped marching with the others, the guys halting a second behind her, and the fog streaked forward. She grabbed Ryder, jerking him away from the white mist, and the guards laughed, prodding them forward with their spears.
“It’s not the fog that you have to worry about.”
Morgan stiffened, glancing at the dryads, but didn’t sense any ill intent from them beyond doing their duty.
No, they needed to worry about whoever sent the dryads out into
the fog to retrieve them.
Someone who had plans.
Plans that didn’t bode well for her or her men.
Morgan continued on the march, nudging the rest of the guys along with her, carefully studying their path. The fog retreated, snaking through the forest, but continued to follow them at a distance, always watching.
What could possibly be more dangerous than the fog?
An hour later they came upon an abandoned village enshrouded in mist. The buildings were old, the stones deteriorated and run down, as if the fog was an acid that slowly ate away everything. As they got closer, Morgan saw something that stopped her in her tracks.
“People are living here?”
“Of course.” The dryad gave her a chiding look. “Once infected, most are kicked out of their home, if not killed outright. Others even leave voluntarily, so as not to harm their family. Where did you think we went?”
As they stepped out of the forest, it became clear that the city was separated into quadrants, different breeds splitting up into factions. Even dying, they refused to live together, seeing the others as weaker or inferior.
“Where are you taking us?” The young hellhound received a blow to his head from an end of a spear.
“Keep moving.”
He swore, glaring at the chick who cracked him over the head, but did as he was told.
They were paraded to the center square, the people they passed giving them long, suspicious looks. They seemed almost fearful when they caught sight of them, scurrying back into their homes. Everyone was infected, even the small children.
A giant-ass cathedral-type building stood in the middle of the courtyard, the spires disappearing into the dense haze. The brown stone was streaked with black, the building so eaten away that the framework was exposed, almost skeletal. Piles of stones lay in crumbled heaps around the base of the building.
They were led up the steps to a set of wooden doors that were reinforced with metal straps strong enough to hold off an army. The guards pried open the doors, the warped wood creaking in protest, revealing a murky interior, the fey lights burned out, obviously consumed by the fog. Torches were lit and carried as they were marched through the labyrinth they called a building, the inside a warren of rooms.
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