The DarkWorld SkinWalker Series Box Set Vol II: The SkinWalker Series Books 4, 5 & 6: Blood Promise, Scorched Fury, & Fate's Edge (DarkWorld: SkinWalker)

by T. G. Ayer

  I still had Lily to worry about. The treatment simply had to work. I knew how devastated I’d be should it fail. The depth of my emotions made me all too aware of what Lily’s feelings would be on the matter.

  The treatment had to work.

  It simply had to.

  My thoughts returned to the twins. Fire mages? Definitely not. Although, as a cover it was a brilliant choice.

  Sienna and Logan were the rightful heirs to the Kingdom of the Drakyr. As soon as Logan was well they could return and retake their throne as was their right. And in the end Omega, and whoever else was involved in the plot against the siblings, had failed.

  Sienna was safe with us for a while. She seemed overjoyed to be able to help her brother. And if Darcy was right about the process then Logan would slowly get better. He’d soon be well enough to find out how to release his dragon.

  The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

  Logan was a Drakyr.

  A real, honest-to-goodness, in-the-flesh, sexy man-dragon. Who’d have thunk it? I couldn’t wait to hear what he thought of it all.

  I’d come to accept it slowly. I’d lived with his fire, and his nightmares.

  What’s a giant scaly alternate personality thrown into the mix?

  Now, as I watched my dragon lover lying there so peacefully, I prayed to Ailuros to guide him safely back to us.

  I’d gone to Drakys, found his sister, almost been poisoned by the Ice Prince, almost been strangled by the same, almost plummeted to my death, been saved by a golden dragon, and almost died on the glacier, and I was tired.

  And before that I’d been reunited with my best friend, been impaled by wooden stakes, and been saved by a magical dagger.

  I was so very tired.

  Tired and a tiny bit afraid that everything had been for naught. His condition hadn’t changed.

  But I had to have hope.

  I lay down beside him, and traced my fingers across his cheek. His eyes remained closed, his long eyelashes fluttering with the slightest of movements.

  He was in there somewhere.

  And he’d said he was sometimes conscious. That sometimes he knew we were around.

  I bent closer and kissed his lips, probably a little harder than was necessary. But right now, I’d take any amount of intimacy that I could. Even a chaste kiss would satisfy me.

  I rested my palm over his heart, absorbing the beat of his heart into my veins, feeling the comfort of having him alive. No matter what happened I’d wait for him. And he knew that.

  Settling my head on his shoulder, I listened to the soft thudding of his heart, yearning for his arms to close around me.

  I fell asleep there, with his warmth against my cheek, a soft smile on my lips.

  And Logan’s arm curled around my waist.

  Chapter 51

  Logan

  Something warm and heavy lay on his shoulder.

  His first instinct was to move, to lift his head and see what it was that weighed him down. But he knew.

  He knew because that delicious weight belonged right there, against his heart.

  Her scent enveloped him, cinnamon and wine. In his mind he could see her green eyes glitter, he could feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingers. Her breath was sweet as it drifted across his cheek.

  His fingers traced her hipbone through the fabric of her pants.

  Logan stiffened, his fingers searching the planes of her hip frantically. He was holding her, his hand curled around her waist.

  He felt her warmth all along the left side of his body, felt her chest move against his as she inhaled.

  But he couldn’t open his eyes, nor could he move any other part of his body. But he wasn’t blind to the fact that progress, even that which seemed minuscule, was still progress. Sienna would help to heal him.

  And then they both had a job to do.

  He’d lived in his sister’s thoughts for weeks now, and knew the lay of the Dragonland. And he was beginning to understand the role that both he and Sienna played. He was beginning to remember things. Things from his past. Fragments that were a combination of his past and events from his sister’s memories.

  A Queen, dead before her time.

  A mother tall and regal, her hair as red as the sun of Drakys

  Twin children destined to take the throne and rule the land.

  Twins that should have been dead but weren’t.

  Siblings stolen and hidden, but by whom? Why had they not been killed along with their mother? Had someone saved their lives out of kindness by hiding them off world?

  Or had they been taken for another reason?

  And why had Omega sent Sienna back into the royal court, hiding her in plain sight?

  Memories drifted to him. Realities he couldn’t avoid or deny.

  Sienna’s name, her true name was Synestra of the House of Yl.

  And Logan, like Sienna, had been given a human name. Holding Kai’s warmth close to his side, he breathed the first peaceful breath he’d taken in the length and breadth of his memory.

  His name was Lyandr, Son of the House of Yl.

  When he recovered, and he would recover, he’d have to go home.

  He had a land to look after, people who waited for the return of the rightful rulers. A land which needed their mother to return and infuse life back into the sun.

  He’d have to take Sienna and return home.

  And the brave, fearless woman beside him would lose him again.

  Even though he was unable to open his eyes, he felt the burn of tears beneath his lids. Their relationship was turning into a long-distance one of epic proportions.

  It would never survive both his responsibilities to his realm, or hers to her Alpha blood.

  He knew what he had to do. He had no choice.

  It was, after all, the right thing to do.

  Logan would leave Kai. He’d have to leave, and never look back.

  He was going to break Kai’s heart.

  TO BE CONTINUED

  Acknowledgments

  To my editor, JC Hart, my publicists Rachel Marks and Brina Courtney,

  thank you for your constant support and encouragement.

  And to my readers - Keep on turning them pages…

  Copyright

  tgayer.com

  Tee’s Blog

  Tee’s Newsletter

  SCORCHED FURY

  A SKINWALKER NOVEL BOOK 5

  Copyright © 2016 by T.G. Ayer

  All rights reserved.

  Cover art by Eduardo Priego

  Cover art © T.G. Ayer. All rights reserved.

  Edited by J.C. Hart

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Fate’s Edge - SkinWalker 6

  Chapter 1

  I may as well be permanently blindfolded, for all the good my panther senses did to help me. I lay flat on my back, my hands and feet bound, my lips and forehead throbbing as I felt the flesh swelling.

  A narrow strip of fabric dangled from my neck, having been ripped off with one perfectly sharp panther claw. I gave the rope around my wrists the same treatment, all the while seething with fury.

  Cold had seeped into my bones from the stone at my back, and my chest tightened, sharp stabs of pain searing through my lungs. Each breath I took depleted the air inside the confined space within whic
h I was imprisoned.

  I’d awakened seconds ago, my senses in overdrive, my panther sight slamming to the fore as both my feline side and my human form felt panic surging through the blood. Though no sound met my ears, my eyes adjusted to the almost solid blackness around me.

  Cold stone at my back, cold stone hemming me in at the shoulders and hips, more cold stone mere inches from my face. The carvings of the stone above me were easy to identify; I’d seen them plenty in my own lifetime.

  How ironic that I was currently sealed within a coffin carved into the elegant form of the Lady Ailuros. Must be a message in there somewhere. The coffin was so very narrow, the sides pushing against my arms, giving me next to no space to move, let alone attempt to find a way to escape. The lid was too low to even allow me to raise my knees high enough to use them to leverage it open.

  I sighed, frustrated and angry. How had I allowed myself to end up in such a situation? My panther senses were almost permanently on high alert these days, especially after the recent attack on my life by the strange and mysterious shadowman. I’d managed to end his sorry life—the downside to self-defense being the high chance of killing the only person who could help shed light on his reasons for attacking you.

  Even now, nobody had been able to help me identify the attacker who’d come all too close to dispatching me permanently.

  And, despite being on edge and on the lookout, I’d allowed myself to be blindsided, bound, blindfolded and beaten bloody and blue.

  Way to go, Kailin Odel. Some alpha walker you turned out to be.

  The box was silent, and beyond its confines, I could hear only silence. Ailuros only knew where they’d stashed my body, and I’d only find out if I ever managed to escape this damned box.

  I slowed my breathing and focused, using my panther sight to study the box, its length, and its construction. The lack of sound beyond the box was disconcerting. The absolute absence of sound made me suspect I’d been buried alive.

  Crap. I hoped not.

  I wasn’t claustrophobic by any means. It was just that the dense lack of sound made me wonder if getting myself out of here was going to be harder than I’d expected.

  I banged on the coffin lid, instinct telling me that I would soon be running out of air. My lungs were already beginning to complain.

  I’d taken the case for Horner, and despite my hesitations I’d used a jumper and a small team to bring me to Rome where we’d been on the trail of a suspected supernatural child abduction ring currently on a cross-country spree, snatching high-profile children and holding them hostage in exchange for exorbitant ransoms.

  I wasn’t a fan of this type of case, especially since kids were not my specialty, and I’d suggested they get Mel Morgan to handle it. Oddly, Horner had replied she was unavailable. I hadn’t dug further, just made a mental note to check if everything was ok with her.

  I ran through what I could remember from before I’d been knocked out, hoping to recall a clue or two.

  We’d staked out the two sites where kids had been taken and were watching the location of a school where the local police suspected the next abduction would occur. Cassandra Monteith had joined me on this particular case, and for that I was grateful.

  She really was one of the best operatives in any of the agencies and that Sentinel had thrown us an agent was proof of how important the case was. Sentinel was, of course, a subsidiary agency of the Supreme High Council anyway, so I supposed inter-agency cooperation with their Elite Squadron was par for the course.

  Cassandra grunted, flicking her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder. “You know that feeling you get when you just know something shitlike is about to hit something fanlike?”

  I grinned and nodded, knowing she’d register the movement even though her eyes were focused on the exit to the school across the street.

  “Yeah. I’m getting that feeling.”

  I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the school’s entrance. “Any clue as to why?” I asked out of the side of my mouth.

  “Not a one,” came her clipped Brit response.

  Cassie was a ShapeChanger, able to shift her features to match anyone she so chooses. At the moment, we were hoping to cross paths with one or more of the abduction-ring members. Cassie’s Plan A was to mimic one of the abductors and insert herself into the group. This was all based on the assumption of the local police that the abductors were operating as a group and were coordinating their efforts in some way.

  The Elite Agency though, was concerned that either rogue jumpers were involved, or one of the abductors was accessing the Veil without permission and breaking all number of laws, both human and supernatural.

  Stakeouts were tedious enough, but add the tension of expecting something supernaturally dangerous to happen at any moment, and it made for two very jumpy operatives. I’d allowed my panther senses to come to the fore so I shouldn’t have reacted so suddenly to a mere voice in our comms, and neither should Cassie have, given how seasoned an agent she was.

  Still, when the coordinating agent said, “Comm check Agents One and Two, over,” I about jumped out of my skin.

  Cassie flinched too and then shook her head. “Idiot.” Her jaw tightened as she gritted her teeth and steadied herself in her crouch, her fingers tightening around the long-range camera in her hands. “I really need to stop being so damned jumpy.”

  “You and me both.”

  She grunted, but before I could respond with the suggestion that we call in a relief team so we could get some rest—we had been at it for the last two days non-stop—a sound from behind me caught my enhanced feline hearing.

  But it was too late.

  Even as I spun around on one knee to check on who had come up on us so silently, my ears began to ring. Every muscle in my body tightened, and it felt all too much like someone had struck me with a taser. Only it wasn’t a taser.

  As I tasted ozone and began to sink to the ground, I watched a shadow move in front of me, placing a murky hand on my forearm as calm as you please. Clearly, our attacker—or attackers although there didn’t appear to be more than one—wasn’t in an all-fired rush to get his attack done.

  He stood and waited as I slumped to the ground and only then did I notice Cassie’s paralyzed form beside me. He’d gotten her first within that split second when she’d spoken, and I’d prepared to answer. If anything, I had to admit his timing was good.

  I tried to swallow and found my tongue seeming to swell in my mouth. Panic sliced through my veins, and I worried about choking to death, but I didn’t have to spend too much time worrying.

  I passed out instead.

  Chapter 2

  Recalling how I’d ended up stuck in this box was doing me no good. I’d thought that perhaps I would remember something about how I’d been transported to this coffin, about who had sealed me up inside it, and perhaps some clues as to what awaited me outside. If I ever managed to get out of the damned thing, that is.

  Was I buried underground?

  Where were Rome’s cemeteries located anyway?

  I lay still and considered my options. The box felt like it was made of concrete—which would make sense since all feline walker funerary sarcophagi were constructed of simple concrete material—but was it too heavy for me to move? And how could I create enough movement within the box to encourage it to shift on the ground, or with some luck topple over?

  As narrow as the box was, with its sides brushing against my arms, I had to wonder if such a shape would allow me to tip the box onto its side at all.

  What did I have to lose? Desperation leads men—and felines—down paths they’d never tread in times of sanity.

  So I began to roll side to side, hitting my arms hard against the walls of the coffin with each turn. Spurred by frustration, fury—and a good dose of feeling like an idiot—I began to roll harder. Though tempted to move fast, I suspected speed wouldn’t help although, so help me, I had no idea why.

  I kept up the momentum until—just whe
n I’d about given up—I felt a scrape beneath my back. A tiny shifting, as if stone had rubbed against stone. Hope surged through me, and I rolled again, swallowing against the wave of nausea that threatened to take over me.

  Gross. The last thing I needed was to throw up. Or to think about throwing up.

  I swallowed hard and rolled, focusing my panther energy on hitting the side walls of the coffin with everything I had.

  And then I felt another scrape beneath the coffin.

  The sarcophagus was likely lying on a stone floor which made me think basement instead of soil and six feet under. My head was beginning to throb, and my chest felt tight, an invisible band slowly tightening around my ribs.

  I built up the energy to begin again and started strong, rolling and slamming, using my knees as well as my elbows to give me whatever momentum I could get in such narrow confines. My arms—though strengthened by my panther—were beginning to throb from the continued impact. I could expect bruises by tomorrow…if I lived to see them.

  Another scrape beneath me gave me a boost of adrenaline to keep rocking.

  Sweat dripped from my forehead, and I could feel it roll along and sink into the hair around my face and at the nape of my head, but I ignored it and kept rocking. But after some time, my bones began to ache, and my jaw began to send spikes of pain into my skull from how hard I was gritting my teeth.

  And soon, even though I’d heard a scrape once or twice I felt no other sign that my rocking was doing any good. Silence still encased me, I was losing air, and I was sweating from all the exertion.

  Not to mention the fact that I was cold to the bone, my clothing doing nothing to help keep even a tiny barrier of heat in. From the feel of them, I still wore my leather pants and boots, and my leather jacket over my long-sleeved turtleneck sweater. I’d dressed for a night in the open. Thankfully.