by Celia Kyle
“No, I know they have teeth and they’re fast, but it’s not just gators. I’m talking about anything, everything. The trees, the bugs, the small animals, deadly snakes, and fierce lions. They take and destroy.” She shot him a rueful smile. “Sorry, that’s Papa Eron’s influence. You can’t be the daughter of Father Earth without caring for his gifts.”
He grinned. “What else have your fathers given you?”
“Well, I do the wolf thing and the love of nature thing. Then there’s my ready smile and mischief when I’m not trying to gut you with a knife. Hmm…” She paused. “Papa Leth taught me to kick ass though I think that was more for his peace of mind since I now can gut a man with a knife between heartbeats.” That had her grinning and remembering the first time she’d gone after that human male when he tried— She shied from the memory as it neared its end. “And Papa Finn, the unicorn, is supposed to be for purity.” She sighed and shook her head. “My soul is only occasionally pure. Other times, it mirrors Mom’s.”
“And your mom?”
Caith wrinkled her nose as she stepped onto the concrete platform. “Well, Mom…” she sighed and just released the truth. “Hatefire, ragefire, hellfire… Basically, if it pisses me off, it gets burnt to a crisp.”
She plopped onto the ground, ignoring the dirt that caked the hard surface. Sam did the same, but instead of leaving her to sit at his side, he plucked her from the ground and settled her between his spread thighs, her back to his front.
“That’s better.” He nuzzled her neck and she tilted her head to the side, giving him more space. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was a wolf scenting his mate. “Your mom… is that Chicago? What does everyone keep referring to?”
Caith winced. “About Chicago… You see, what had happened was…”
She found the guy she was fucking banging some other chick and then the hatefire rolled through her and then the hellfire came and then… Boom! The great Chicago fires of 1871.
The rustle and splash of water brought her attention back to the pond, and thankfully interrupted her explanation. How many chicks wanted to reveal that her anger killed an uncountable number of humans and tweens. Sure, the official record said it was three hundred, but Caith remembered the screams…
Ripples marred the pond’s surface, four disturbances sliding just out of sight as they approached.
“Caith?” A hint of worry filled his tone.
“It’s just the gals and Georges.”
“Georges? You got a thing for Frenchmen I need to know about?”
She nuzzled his arm, rubbing her scent on him while also attempting to reassure him she was his. “Once upon a time, maybe.” She tilted her head back. “Unless you wanna tell me you’re from France. Then yes, I’ve got a thing for Frenchmen.”
The first gator broke the surface, his dark body sliding from the water with ease and the other three females flanked him but held back. They trusted Georges and once he was done with his puppy-like snuggles, the others would come forward. No matter the stress of the day or the rage that rode her soul, these four always soothed her.
Now she could add Sam to that list.
“Hello, mon petit.” She held out her arms and spread her legs, giving Georges room to come forward.
“Petit? There is nothing small about him. He’s ten feet long and weighs over three hundred pounds.”
Caith grinned. “Right. Little. Just wait until he finishes growing and then Momma R and Jezebeth will—”
Do nothing because that’s when Georges opened his eyes fully and stared at her. They were eyes she’d stared into more times than she could count. They were midnight black, dark and mysterious to everyone but her. Gators were instinctual killers, deadly, dangerous, and some thought evil. But she knew evil and the reptiles were merely misunderstood. At least, that was before she met Georges’ gaze and didn’t see black. No, she saw green. Bright, sparkling, truly evil green.
She swallowed hard and her attention shot to the three females, noting their orbs were the same, lethal hue. “Get up, Sam.”
“Caith?”
Georges was only ten feet away then, close enough that a fierce rush would catch them both.
“Now, Sam.”
Sam stilled, his body freezing for a spare moment. “Oh, shit.”
Oh shit was right.
She saw the gator’s intent a split-second before he attacked. That instant gave her the opportunity to roll from Sam’s lap while also shoving the gel aside. Georges snapped at empty air as she jumped up, bouncing on the balls of her feet, watching the four animals.
Sam did the same, upright and watchful.
“What the fuck happened?”
“Hell if I know,” she grimly replied.
The ladies closed in on them, tails swishing, mouths parted as if ready to tear into Caith. And Caith only. They didn’t have eyes for Sam at all.
Fuck. She swallowed hard. They wanted her. Whoever pulled their puppet strings had them focusing on her and the four were now desperate for her blood.
“You need to get out of here,” she directed Sam, her gaze still on the gators. She took a step back and the four eased closer, obviously intent on her. “Now.”
“You think I’ll leave you like this?” He snorted, but she heard the nervous tension in his voice. “Think again.”
“I mean it. They want me. So you’re gonna flutter to the house and get me my tranq gun and a few darts.” Another step backward, another few inches separated Sam from danger.
“Caith…”
“If I take my attention off them, they’ll find a new target. Please, Sam. Please.”
“I’m not leaving you. Didn’t we just talk about the fact that if either of us die in the tween, we’ll still come back?”
“Right.” Another step. “You really think On High will release you a second time?”
“Of course.”
Yeah, well, she wished she had as much faith in Uncle Luc. She could really use those darts before it came down to Caith versus gator. It was one battle she didn’t want to win, or lose.
Sam flung a rock, smacking Georges in the head, drawing the attention of all four animals.
“What the fuck, Sam?”
The grin he flashed her made her want to claw out his eyes. Stupid, stupid gel.
“I got ’em. Go grab what you need,” he murmured.
“You can’t hurt them, Sam. You know they’re not in their right mind. That’s why I want them on me,” she growled, hoping the sound got their attention.
But it didn’t. Nope. One thing did intrigue them though.
“Yo, Caith! Mom didn’t want me to tell you, but Dead Nettle called and he said he heard you hired us and wanted to wish you good luck.” Berg’s voice boomed over the lawn. “What the fuck’s up with that? He’s not gonna try and kick my ass, right? I don’t wanna hurt him.”
Bergamot was the new target, the four gators racing beyond Sam and Caith and heading straight for the over-sized brownie. Growls and snarls came from the group, sounds she’d never heard from animals, let alone gators.
From one breath to the next, they were half way between the pond and Berg. Then they were a hundred feet away and then…
Sam disappeared from sight, spurring Caith into motion. She wasn’t about to let Sam or Berg turn into gator food. She waited for Sam to reappear beside the brownie, to take him from the area, but no, Bergamot remained alone.
“Run, Berg!” She hoped he heard her bellow.
The brownie’s eyes widened, attention flitting from Caith to the gators and back again. “You said they were—”
“Run, dammit!”
She’d said they were harmless, that they were sweet and misunderstood. That it was okay for the babes to play near the pond and even ride Georges. He loved the little ones. Loved carrying them and loved—
No.
“Unca Berggie…” Rose Bud tumbled from the house, her tiny leg
s carrying her across the grass.
No.
Caith increased her speed, fighting for energy and pulling on everything she could from Hell. She raced, coming even with the gators and finally pouncing on Georges. She rolled with the animal, hands reaching for his mouth while she wrapped her legs around his body. She crossed her fingers that her attack on the leader would draw the ladies’ attention and her plea was answered.
All three descended on her, snapping and bolting toward her, jaws coming close and teeth snaring bits of cloth and occasionally skin. They weren’t trying to kill her. At least, not right that second. She still had Georges in her grasp. Biting too deeply would hurt their male.
So, she’d hold on and wait for Sam to reappear. He’d come back and take out the girls and then—
“Caith!” Sam was back. Sam. Sam. Sam.
She didn’t spare him a glance, but the stinging scent of the sedative in her darts reached her. “Do it, Sam.”
The whistle and thump told her one was released and a solid body beside her slowly slumped. One down, three to go.
Through their struggles she’d somehow ended up belly to belly with the animal and Georges scraped her side, his claw-tipped legs digging deeply into her flesh. The ground was slick with her blood, the grass now painted red as her heart pushed more and more from her body. He wrenched his head left to right, swinging and trying to break her hold, but she sure as fuck wasn’t gonna allow that.
Another whistle, another thud. Two down.
The third was right behind that. So the girls were down and out.
That left her with Georges. One she could handle.
He continued to struggle against her, body flailing, and the familiar dull sounds of darts hitting home reached her.
One, two, three…
Georges still struggled.
Four.
His strength didn’t wane.
“Caith, he’s not going down.”
No shit, really?
“Get some more darts and rope. Keep trying to knock him out and we’ll tie his jaws and legs.” Hopefully soon. Her muscles were tiring, the burn telling her she was about done. Swinging a sword was a hell of a lot easier than keeping a gator captive.
“Hold on.” The sweetness that signaled Sam’s departure held a bit more sulfur than before. Was On High punishing him for saving Caith?
Assholes.
Georges stilled for a moment and she wondered if he’d finally realized he was fighting a losing battle. He wouldn’t get free of her. He wouldn’t have a chance to—
The next move tore her from his body. A great heave of muscle and bone had him breaking her hold and stumbling over one of the ladies.
Shit.
She did the same, flinging her body the opposite way and rushing to put space between her and a furious Georges. Green eyes met hers, the rage and hate burning brightly and she swallowed hard. This wasn’t the small gator she’d raised. He’d been perverted and destroyed by whatever spell held him captive.
Bastards.
“Georges,” she whispered his name and his eyes narrowed. The hatred burning anew.
Then he raced forward. It wasn’t a natural rush. No, it was one suffused with magic that allowed him to move three times as fast.
“Fuck.” She spun and raced back toward the pond and away from the house. She’d hide in the forest, the maze of trees slowing him as Sam grabbed more darts. She couldn’t allow Georges near her home with him like this. The brownies were there, tweens under her care and she couldn’t let anything happen—
Agonizing pain pierced her calf and she was suddenly jerked to a halt. Air whooshed from her lungs and she fought for breath as the agony attacked her. She risked a glance over her shoulder and the hurt seemed to double. Fuck, he’d gotten his jaws around her leg, biting deeply and straining bone.
Caith fell to the ground, free leg buckling beneath her as the pain of Georges’ wound raced over her nerves. It overwhelmed her with its strength, sending every drop of her blood screaming with the agony. She caught herself with her hands and met the gator’s gaze and those green eyes… they were gleeful. Overjoyed that he’d caught her and now tasted her blood.
The animal dragged her toward the lake and she knew his intent. He’d drag her deep and drown her, feast on her body. Unless Sam came back with the darts. He could subdue the animal and they’d keep all four caged until they could figure out a way to…
“Caith!” Sam’s bellow filled her ears.
He’d come. He’d come and he’d save her and she hated the fact that she needed help just as much as she sobbed in relief.
The edge of the water neared, Georges’ tail covered by the dark liquid. He dragged her backward, yanking her toward her death. Any second now she’d sink beneath the surface and she wasn’t sure if Sam would find her. She kicked at Georges, wanting to be free, but not wanting to harm him either.
He wasn’t her friend, he wasn’t her beloved Georges. He was in someone else’s control and didn’t deserve to die for—
Sam appeared beside the gator, pure sulfur accompanying the move, and when he looked at her, his eyes were nearly pure red. Only a hint of blue remained, the last bit of his angelic status clinging to him with invisible fingers.
“Shoot him, Sam,” she wheezed, the anguish stealing her breath.
But then she realized he didn’t hold her dart gun. No, a blade had replaced the weapon. “I’m sorry, Caith.”
No. He couldn’t mean to… But Georges… Panic filled her, true fear and misery spearing her. It overrode the physical pain and dug into her very soul. Not Georges. No, no, no…
“Don’t, Sam. Please. Don’t—”
Sam raised the sword high, tip pointed at Georges’ head, blade gleaming in the sun’s light.
“Wait. Don’t. Get—” A scream ended her pleas, the gator yanking hard once again, dragging her closer to the edge. Water lapped at his front legs, covering most of his body, and satisfaction filled those evil eyes.
The silver of Sam’s sword blinked at her, and she watched it lower, watched it slice through the air. It drew closer and closer to Georges’ head and each inch added a crack to her heart, chipping away at pieces. The closer the gator’s death raced, the more hunks fell and shattered.
“Nonononono—”
The tip was less than an inch from Georges’ thick hide, so very close to destroying one of the few things she loved in the tween. And he would be gone, gone, gone…
“Forgive me,” Sam whispered. To her or to On High?
It didn’t matter because he was taking away—
Another blade blocked Sam’s, shoving it aside just as a long knife struck deeply, sliding into Georges’ flesh, severing his spine. In that split second, that moment before life fled her friend, the green light left his gaze and pure regret and love filled those eyes. Her Georges. He was there. In that last second, that last breath of life, he was there to show her he still loved her and he hated that she’d been injured.
Caith followed the length of the knife that’d killed Georges. Her gaze slid over the large, scarred hand, the tanned forearm and the thick bicep. Then she met her savior’s gaze.
Silver eyes that were so like her own, the hue limited to his kind and no other, sparkled with regret but not apology. “Hate me if you must, but I could not let one of my own beasts take my only child.”
Father Earth. Papa Eron.
Chapter Eighteen
Caith remained frozen in place, Georges’ jaws still clamped on her calf, her blood still flowing from the injuries. Movement near the gator’s tail begged for her attention, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from him.
“Don’t touch him. Don’t come near me.” Tears never slowed. “Take,” she swallowed hard, fighting the damning pain. “Take the sword out, please.”
“Little flower…” her father murmured.
“Please, Papa Eron. Just… please.”
“Let us
care for you first,” he tried again.
Caith shook her head. “No, just… please. Remove it and leave.”
She couldn’t hold it together much longer. The agony of her loss pummeled her from inside out. Her wolf howled in objection, hating that their friend was gone and her fire, it scorched her veins, denying the truth. Georges was gone.
“Caith,” Sam whispered. “You’re bleeding.”
She shook her head again. “I need you to go.”
Murmurs surrounded her, more voices coming near, the rattling roar of their presence vibrating her and plucking her nerves. Didn’t anyone see that she clutched sanity by a single thread?
“Papa,” the word drifted into the wind and she wasn’t sure he heard her.
But then he flexed and the sickening squelch of his blade sliding free of Georges’ body eclipsed all other sounds. The slide had more tears rushing forward, more moisture escaping her eyes. It was then she finally moved, finally worked her calf out of the gator’s mouth. She ignored the hands that reached for her, brushed fingers away and disregarded her mate’s scent. She only had eyes for Georges. She scrambled forward, changing position until she could cradle his large head in her lap. Her tears decorated his hide then, wetting the flesh with her sorrow.
He was gone. Gone.
His black orbs were still exposed and she carefully encouraged them to lower, hiding him from her gaze. She couldn’t look into those eyes any longer. They’d been consumed by magic and hatred and then he’d looked at her…
A sob escaped, shaking her body, and she curled in on herself, resting her chest on Georges as the animalistic sounds burst from her mouth. She was surrounded by loved ones, their caring flowing to her on the wind, but she couldn’t banish her sadness. It overwhelmed her, ate at her until she was raw with the emotion.
It burned her, scorched her flesh and set her skin aflame. The brightness of her hellfire slid over her, sticking to her skin and ignored Georges, her clothing. It was proof of her agony, showing one and all that she was… destroyed.
“Shit.” Papa Eron. Then more voices, ones she recognized and others she didn’t. “Little flower,” he soothed, but there was no soothing. None, none, none. “You must calm.”