Damn if a tear didn't defy him and slide down his cheek.
Straightening his shoulders, Quinn found his backbone and leaned through the open doors to place one of his oldest Belador triquetras on the floor inside. Then he pulled the old iron doors together with a clang and used his mental kinetics to lift the triquetra blade and hook it over the handles on the inside of the doors.
Using that old triquetra to guard her body seemed fitting.
All of his new ones had been freshly warded a few weeks ago, so they could not be moved using kinetics, because Kizira had been compelled by her evil queen to breach his wards. Quinn shook his head at the ugly irony. He could safely use the old triquetras again because the only person who knew how to get past them now lay dead inside this tomb.
The ward on the triquetra would stand stronger than any lock to prevent someone foolish enough to touch what was his.
He couldn't keep her in life, but she was his in death.
There would never be another love for him such as her. He'd fallen in love with the enemy a long time ago and realized too late that what they had was genuine.
Too late for Kizira.
He'd be lucky if Macha didn't punish him, or strike him down, for his relationship with a Medb.
Not just any Belador enemy. Their most hated.
But Quinn hadn't known Kizira's true identity when, as a young man, he'd met and fallen in love with a dazzling woman who had just come of age. Two weeks of bliss, then she'd given him a bracelet braided of his hair and said goodbye.
She'd told him then that she belonged to his enemy's coven, but he would never be her enemy. He should have taken those words to heart, because she had, and it cost her.
He stepped away from the tomb and lifted the fragile bracelet from his coat pocket, running his thumb carefully over the tightly knit strands.
Kizira's final words to him as he'd held her dying body kept torturing his mind. He could see her face, pale and waning as death called to her.
"Promise me . . . " she'd said.
"Anything." He'd brushed his lips over hers, savoring the feel.
"Find Phoedra. Keep her safe."
"Who's Phoedra?"
"Our daughter."
Pain struck his chest again as he watched her die once more in his mind. Agony clawed his heart, a beast with an insatiable appetite for misery. Quinn curled his fist to keep from slinging power madly at anything and everything.
His fault she died.
Unclenching his fist, he grappled for control of his own emotions. He had no place to lay blame other than at his own feet, and would not lash out at an innocent world just because his soul was damned beyond redemption.
He'd find Phoedra, who would be twelve now. Once he located her, he'd determine if she was safe, though he had no doubt that Kizira had hidden her well to keep her from the filthy clutches of the Medb.
Kizira expected Quinn to go and take possession of their daughter.
He stared at the bracelet. How could he tell his daughter that he was her father and the man responsible for her mother's death?
Sliding it back into his pocket, Quinn strode out of the cemetery.
***
"Is that Belador the one Queen Maeve put a bounty on?" Donndubhan asked in a hushed voice.
Imar nodded. "Vladimir Quinn. The queen wants him. She said it's because he killed one of our warlocks last week. If she wants him, why doesn't she send all the Scath Force after him instead of just Ossian?"
"Queen Maeve favors Ossian." Donndubhan had proven himself as an elite Scath Force warrior time and again, yet Ossian had been the one to gain Cathbad's eye.
Cathbad the Druid had been selecting the warlocks he believed most suited to belong to the Scath Force, and Donndubhan had easily made the cut, but Ossian had somehow been picked as the top ass-kisser. Ossian always had been an attention whore. But whatever the queen wanted, Ossian couldn't deliver it without help.
And that's how Donndubhan had ended up as Ossian's confidante. Ossian needed the eyes and ears of someone capable he could trust.
Imar huffed out his irritation. "Will Ossian tell you why Queen Maeve wants Quinn?"
"No, but I'll bet the queen wants this Quinn for something besides retribution for killing one of her warlocks. We're little more than disposable rats to her." Donndubhan scratched his five-day-old beard and watched Quinn get into a limo, which drove off. If Maeve cared about losing a warlock, she'd have taken it up with the Tribunal now that the Medb coven had joined the coalition.
"If she isn't after revenge, then why would she want Quinn?" Imar asked. "He's a Belador."
Donndubhan stood and stretched his legs, saying, "My intel shows that Quinn is one of the most powerful Beladors because of his mindlock ability. We need to find out more about him and figure out what Maeve wants."
Imar agreed, "And before another Medb group gets their hands on him. I want that bounty."
"If he's as dangerous as I've heard, any Medb other than the Scath Force is on a suicide mission if they go after him."
Imar muttered, "Maybe even them, too."
Donndubhan ignored the stupid comment and looked down the path to where Quinn had exited a mausoleum inside the cemetery. "What's in that tomb?"
"I don't know. I came straight here as soon as I got a call from the troll who said he had something to offer. When I got here, the troll said Quinn had walked into the cemetery while his limo waited, then entered the mausoleum, so whatever is in there was already in the tomb before Quinn got here."
"You dealt with a troll?"
Imar looked insulted. Touchy damn warlock. Imar said, "Of course I did. I offered him safety. I told him we're going to do what the Beladors won't and protect trolls, but that he has to help me and keep quiet or we won't keep him safe. I've got him convinced he can't go home or he puts all his family at risk and that we have people watching over him. He's showing me hiding spots of his troll friends so I can tell our warlocks to watch out for them."
"Interesting idea."
Imar shrugged. "We need more trolls if we're going to make this demon plan work and that's the best way to find them. I'm not stupid."
That was debatable, but Donndubhan said, "Good job, Imar."
Donndubhan turned around, checking to see that nothing else had entered the cemetery. There were only ghouls and orbs. Not something he could get rid of in a place like this.
What could be important enough for this Vladimir Quinn to visit that tomb? And why did Maeve really want this man? Donndubhan would find out both, which meant he'd hold all the cards when he captured Quinn.
Donndubhan knew how to set a successful trap and never get caught.
What Imar didn't need to know was that Quinn would be far more valuable as a trade. Once Donndubhan had decided if the Sterling coven deserved his skills and genius, he'd trade them Quinn. No dark witch worth her salt would pass up a chance for that kind of power.
Chapter 11
Evalle brushed her damp hair in front of her bathroom mirror, feeling more rested than she had in days. Steam boiled from behind her where Storm showered.
Alone, or they'd never get out of the bedroom.
If not for the other two in the front room and Adrianna expecting them in two and a half hours, Evalle would stay in here all day with Storm.
But she had to make the most of her time while she waited to leave here under cover of darkness.
Two hours should be long enough to figure out how to bring peace into this apartment.
Evalle's negotiating skills were as nonexistent as her culinary abilities, but everyone currently living here was dear to her, so she had to find a way to keep them all happy.
As soon as she and Storm finished dressing, she'd help Lanna whip up something edible in the kitchen, because whatever Lanna didn't know about cooking she made up for with her majik. It would be nice to know if she was a mage or a wizard, but Lanna's mother didn't know who Lanna's father had been. The woman had disappeared j
ust over eighteen years ago from her home in Transylvania, and when she'd shown up again she was pregnant, with no idea where she'd been.
Lanna had displayed some scary power, but she was sweet in spite of being a busybody.
Evalle stepped into the bedroom and smiled at the clothes thrown in every direction. Storm had been intent on getting naked last night and she'd loved every minute of it, plus another round of lovemakng this morning when she'd rolled over to find him watching her with a look of contentment on his face.
She wanted to live with him.
Was that too much to ask of the universe?
Once everyone finished eating, Evalle would move Lanna and Feenix into the bedroom to watch movies so that Evalle and Storm could have the living room alone.
If they tried to talk in here, they'd end up in bed.
Not that she had any complaints about that, but nothing would get decided and she'd spend another day with this lead ball of worry rolling around in her stomach.
She hated this feeling of being in limbo.
Evalle hunted for a shirt in her banged-up, pressed-wood chest of drawers. She'd dug the piece out of the dump late one night, cleaned it up and painted it blue. The drawers worked.
Wasn't that the point?
Pulling on one of her BDU shirts, her personal indulgence when she could find them in a vintage shop, she turned as she buttoned it.
Storm stepped out of the bathroom, hair falling in straight black lines. He had that look on his face that said he'd picked up on her anxiety a moment ago.
She brightened her expression and said, "I'm fine. Don't give me that look."
"If you were really fine, I wouldn't be giving you this look."
"I told you I'm thinking about things."
He lifted both eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Not that."
He stepped over and hooked a hand on her waist, pulling her forward possessively. Then he lowered his head. "I'm losing my touch if you're not thinking about that." Then he kissed her and sent heat into all the right areas of her body.
"You proved your point," she laughed against his lips. "I am thinking about that, but we don't have time right this minute." She put her hands on his chest, feeling the taut skin over hard muscle. "Time for coffee and breakfast." The idea of cooking eggs and bacon terrified her, but Lanna had talked her through one almost successful attempt.
The eggs had been rubbery and the bacon had turned out black. Not just done, but black.
She'd pull it all off the heat sooner this time.
She killed demons for crying out loud. She could cook a damn egg.
She wanted to be the perfect mate and she had no idea where to start.
Storm kissed her forehead. His brown eyes softened with a thought. "We need to sit down and talk today."
That dropped the lead ball of worry straight to her feet. Hadn't she been thinking they needed to talk?
Yes. So why the sudden panic?
Because if she was honest with herself, she'd been hoping she was wrong about the weird tension and that he'd brush off her concern and Feenix would smile and be crazy about Storm and ... yes, that was all fantasy.
Storm loved her and had always made it clear that he loved her just the way she was.
But he'd never lived with her.
He sighed and looked away.
Before he could ask why she was upset again, which he would know with his empathic gift, she said, "We do need to talk. I know you aren't happy with this arrangement--"
His face whipped back to hers. "I didn't say that."
Truth, but that didn't mean he hadn't thought it. She said, "Just get dressed and we'll talk, okay?"
He let out a long breath and kissed her on the cheek. "Okay." Then he walked around, searching the room. "Where's my belt?"
She'd pulled out her socks and sat down on the edge of the bed to put them on. She looked around the room, too.
She did not want to lose his belt, which should be easy to locate. It had a silver buckle carved as the head of a jaguar, with two yellow diamonds for eyes. Storm had once popped out a diamond to give her to use as the buy-in for a beast match. She'd questioned the value back then and he'd only said it was enough to get them what they wanted.
She'd found out later the yellow diamonds were rare and ridiculously expensive, but the buckle? Priceless.
His father had given it to him when he was ten, saying he'd had it made by a silversmith in his father's Navajo tribe. She'd find a nice safe place to put it where he could easily find the belt when he chose to wear it, which wasn't often.
Scanning the area again and not seeing the belt, she asked, "Where'd you leave it?"
He lifted an eyebrow at that. "On the floor with everything else last night. I was in too much of hurry to pick up my clothes." Then he winked at her.
Maybe she was making too big a deal over her perception of the problem. Maybe there was no problem and her insecurities were rising up to choke her.
She trusted Storm. Now she needed to prove it by showing him that she wouldn't react every time a problem arose. They'd eat, talk and get everything out on the table so they could make a decision on how to move forward. Storm would live here and they'd make this work.
He muttered, "The belt should be right here," and kept looking around, but the room was not that big.
Sliding on a boot, Evalle glanced over at the door.
It was ajar.
She said, "Have you gone out to the kitchen this morning?"
Storm's gaze went to the same spot and he started that way. "No."
He strode out the door and was gone by the time Evalle came to her feet to follow.
Storm yelled, "Are you kidding me!"
That was not his joking voice. That was his I-want-to-kill-something voice.
Feenix squawked in a high-pitched, terrified screech.
Evalle raced out to the living area to find Storm holding his half-eaten belt and glaring at Feenix, who was flying around, shooting out short bursts of fire with each squawk.
Feenix would catch the place on fire if that continued.
Lanna chased around beneath him. "Come here, Feenix."
This was far worse than the first night Storm had spent here. All of Evalle's concerns had been nothing compared to this. She glanced at the buckle--or at the thirty percent of it that was left.
No way to fix that, so she stepped past Storm to catch Feenix.
Standing in the middle of the room, Evalle waved Lanna back and called out in a gentle voice, "It's okay, Feenix. I'm here. Come to me, baby."
Lanna moved over to the side, for once not trying to interject her advice. She had a good heart, but interference was her middle name.
Evalle had saved Feenix from a crazy sorcerer who'd created the gargoyle then decided Feenix was inferior because he hadn't turned out to be a killer, like the huge, deadly creatures the sorcerer sent out to attack.
Feenix had been marked as food.
It had taken him a while not to react to any sudden movement.
The squawking got quieter. He flapped back and forth across the room for a moment while she kept talking to him in a soothing voice. "Come on, sweetie."
He made one last circle and flapped slowly down to her open arms. She hugged him to her. He shook like a miniature earthquake, complete with occasional puffs of smoke and frightened grunting. He tucked his wings. She stroked his back and cooed to him until the only noise was a low rumble in his chest.
When she turned to Storm, no emotion showed on his face, but he was gripping the ruined belt with white knuckles that attested to how difficult it was for him to contain his anger.
Feenix lifted one of his pudgy little hands and spit something into it, then deposited that in Evalle's hand.
The second yellow diamond that had been an eye in the buckle.
She walked over and placed it on the counter between her and Storm.
When Storm didn't pick it up or say anything, she said, "I'm sorry, Storm.
I know it's not replaceable."
He broke his gaze from hers, looking away when he took a breath then said, "No big deal."
Then he turned and walked into the bedroom, but not before she'd caught the grimace on his face from the pain that lie had cost him.
Lanna started in, "I am sorry, Evalle. I was listening to iPod music and did not realize Feenix left room."
Evalle turned to Lanna. "It's not your fault. Feenix is my responsibility. You've been wonderful to stay here all week and keep him company."
"And hide from wizard."
"That, too, but you might have been more comfortable somewhere else."
"This was good place to stay. I like being with you and Feenix. And Storm." Lanna had spent the past week with Evalle, because Quinn had needed time away to mourn Kizira's death and a safe place to leave the young woman.
Lanna reached for a wide headband, which she pulled over her head then up over her curls, not taming them so much as containing the mass. She'd put on a pair of jeans that rode low on her hips, and a bright red sweatshirt.
Evalle had gotten used to having Lanna around, but she needed more room for this many people. Still, Evalle said, "You're always welcome." It was true.
"Thank you, but I am too many wheels."
Evalle cocked her head until she realized what Lanna was saying.
"You mean a third wheel?"
Tugging the headband until she had it the way she wanted it, Lanna said, "Yes. Third wheel. You and Storm need your time and I am ready to go. Cousin is back in Atlanta."
"Quinn's back? You're sure?"
"Yes, I feel him." But she didn't look happy about it.
"What's the matter, Lanna?"
"Cousin is sad, very sad." She studied on what she was saying and added, "Dark."
That did not sound like Quinn, but the man had watched the woman he loved die in his arms. Evalle would be dark, too, in his place.
In fact, she'd be just as dark inside if this didn't work out with Storm. He'd made her his mate.
Could he unmate her?
The question she should be asking was--would he?
***
Storm took three deep breaths to bring his blood pressure back down so his head didn't explode.
He looked at the belt buckle his father had given him.
In fact, his father had sent a request back to a relative in their Navajo tribe in Arizona while Storm and his father still lived in South America with the Ashaninka people.
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