He ran faster. He ran by instinct to the mountain with the hovering dark cloud, one that was even darker than the storm forming overhead.
Annette fumed. She was splayed like a plucked turkey, basted in some sort of tingling oil, ready for a feast. All Pathos had to do was jerk the red satin sheet off. The women had placed her before a large wall of windows that torturously overlooked the valley where the small city of Twilight sat, unknowing of her predicament or of the storm clouds rolling toward them. In fact, given a pair of high-powered binoculars, she might be able to pick out a building or two and find the road that led to her cabin…and her friends and…Aragon.
Oh, God. She finally let herself face what she had been trying to avoid ever since she realized that she was virtually paralyzed. She was not going to be able to find Stefanie. And she was not going to be able to stop Pathos from doing whatever he wanted to do. The knowledge that Pathos was going to violate her and rip away all of the pleasure Aragon had left simmering inside her made her soul cry out.
I’m sorry! She should have believed in him. She shouldn’t have tried to do this all alone.
Aragon!
The drug they kept administering to her rendered her voluntary muscles just weak enough to be totally ineffective. She could still feel and think, but she couldn’t move. She wasn’t sure how long her bathing session had lasted, but having someone else take total control of her body had been a humbling and harrowing lesson in what she expected of patients almost every day as a surgeon. Granted, all of her patients had been completely knocked out, but that powerless feeling had to be the same.
The women, though respectful, had done everything imaginable to clean her inside and out. They’d sensitized every nerve and denuded her of every hair from the neck down, then slicked her up.
She wanted to cry, but wouldn’t let a single tear leak through her resolve. She would focus completely on Aragon and not give Pathos the satisfaction of reacting to anything at all. Besides, as poorly as her vocal cords and swallowing reflexes were working, she’d likely choke on her tears.
The sound of a shutting door and muffled footsteps sent her heart pounding. Pathos appeared at the foot of the divan, and his perfect features relaxed into an amused smile. “You smell delicious,” he murmured.
She glared at him.
Pushing aside the sheet, he ran a finger up the sole of her foot. The cold touch was torturous in that she couldn’t move from it, and her nerves jumped, lodging a sick erotic feel in her loins.
He frowned when she didn’t react. “Don’t think you can put me off. Believe me, I have many ways to make you feel things you’ve never even imagined could be pleasurable.” He slid his finger up her leg to her open sex, pressed painfully hard on her most sensitive spot. “I just left your sister’s side. She has skin as soft as yours. Shall I have her first?” Then he backed away, clearly disgusted.
Stef! Annette’s heart cried out, wondering what her sister was suffering. Pathos sounded as if Stefanie was in the next room. Annette desperately tried to struggle, tried to move, but couldn’t.
The door opened. “I came to enjoy the show,” she heard Cinatas say.
Pathos cursed. “She’s still drugged. And can’t move.”
“But she can feel, so what’s stopping you?”
“I don’t want her to just succumb to the pleasure. She’s going to strain for it. I’ll bathe, and by then she should be…in working order.”
“Mind if I amuse myself a bit? Adrenalin will hurry her recovery.”
Pathos’s smile when he looked down at her was answer enough. Cinatas would violate her as well.
A hard knock sounded at the door. “What now?” Pathos said.
“Forgive the intrusion, but I thought you should know. Only one of the trucks has arrived. The rest are being detained by the law. The sheriff from Twilight is at the iron gates and insists on speaking to you both. Should I let him pass? If necessary, accidents do happen frequently on the road to the Falls.”
“I’ll handle the sheriff,” said Cinatas. “I have a score to settle.”
“No, not yet,” Pathos said. “Once Sno-Med is back on steady ground, then we’ll settle some scores. Tell the sheriff we aren’t here, and he needs a search warrant to pass through the gates.”
“Very well.” The man’s reply was followed by the door shutting.
“He’s likely here for her,” Cinatas said. “He won’t go peacefully. By morning he’ll be back with that warrant.”
“Then we’ll welcome his search. Why don’t you go hear what he says, then come back?”
“What about her?”
“She’s on our side. She’ll betray her friends when the time comes. I’ll even free her in the morning, and tomorrow night she will come back for more of my kind of pleasure. The good doctor will do anything for her sister, right?”
Annette stared at him, horrified, and he slid his palm over her baby-smooth crotch. “What? You thought this would be a one-night stand?”
She blinked, fighting back the tears, aching painfully where Pathos had touched her. Not because he hurt her, but because the pain of that evil touching her after knowing Aragon’s pleasure was too much to bear. And the agony of having her sister so near and being unable to help was just as bad. The clouds moving across the horizon were darker than ever.
She cried out with her whole heart and soul. Aragon!
Annette’s cry slammed into Aragon and stopped him in his tracks. It echoed louder than the thunder, crossing the distance separating them, joining his spirit to hers. The call from her was even stronger than his warrior’s bond, for though the heavens rumbled with a brewing battle between the Guardian Forces and Heldon’s Fallen Army, he could barely hear them.
And it came, heart-stoppingly, from the direction in which he was headed. From the black-clouded mountain and the sense of pervasive evil that grew with his every advancing step.
By Logos! Had he miscalculated what Pathos would do? Did Pathos have Annette? He ran harder. He ran until his blood pounded so hard that he could taste it in his mouth, until his breaths were so ragged pain lanced his sides with every gasp. Even his warrior-honed muscles screamed from the strain. He reached a huge stone fence capped by black iron spikes and a thick gray mist, and nearly doubled over from the rank stench of Underlings. There would have to be hundreds of them around for him to smell them this strongly and not be within their midst.
But Underlings weren’t normally able to cross the spirit barrier into the mortal realm. Some dark magic here, or a heavy concentration of evil, must have weakened the spirit barrier to a thin layer. He shuddered. Almost any depraved creature from Heldon’s realm, no matter how lowly, could cross the spirit barrier at this point. Why hadn’t they wreaked havoc on everyone in the area, attacked and devoured the mortals while they slept in their beds?
He didn’t know. Maybe they were only able to exist within the cloud of evil shrouding the mountaintop. He did know one thing for certain. The stench was so strong that he had little doubt the number of Underlings was more than he could fight alone—and he had no brethren to call upon for aid.
His heart hammered with a fear greater than any he’d known before. Annette was in the middle of this hole from hell. Her life, her spirit, and her soul were in grave jeopardy. He’d have to cross the spirit barrier to get to her. But that left two problems. First, he wouldn’t be able to bring her through the spirit barrier to get her out. That meant they were going to have to find a way beyond the evil barrier before the Underlings caught them. And second, the gathering storm in the area meant the spirit realm was crawling with the Guardian Forces. He’d escaped once. He didn’t think he’d be as lucky a second time.
Thunder and lightning lashed through the sky as the growing energy from the gathering forces filled the entire Appalachian area. It didn’t surprise him to see that the Guardian Forces had moved in. They would have had to be blind to miss this mushroom explosion of evil on top of the mountain. He had to move
swiftly and carefully.
At every passing second the turmoil surrounding him worsened. The growing energy of the coming battle danced in the air and whipped the wind, adding to the darkness as the storm and the coming night choked the light from the day. Already he could feel the moon’s pull upon his were-form, urging him to give in to his baser desires, and it wasn’t even visible in the sky yet. He wondered if the surrounding evil could amplify the effects of the moon on him.
Grasping his amulet, he leapt, but instead of being smoothly sucked into the spirit world, his being seemed to lodge partway, as if he didn’t have enough power to make the shift. He wavered between the realms, his being straining itself beyond its limits, growing hotter and hotter, scorching him.
Please! his spirit cried to Logos. By all that is good and pure! Help me! He fell to his knees, his eyes squeezed shut.
As a Shadowman, a warrior within the Guardian Forces, Logos’s power had been free-flowing, and unquestionably his to draw upon. Now there was a cold, agonizing barrier between him and that power.
When Aragon hit the ground, it wasn’t the rough earth he expected, but an amazing softness and the heavenly scent of Annette amid the fetid odors of Pathos, Vladarians, Underlings, and more. Opening his eyes, he stared into hers as a flood of relief and deep emotion knocked him down.
The difficulty he had in crossing the spirit barrier told him his fate of fading had truly begun, and he cried out against it, realizing there was something greater within the world than war and eliminating Pathos, and he was drowning in her dark eyes at that very moment.
She lay on a cushioned bed, her creamy, soft skin partially covered by red satin and her mind in a panicked whirlwind that roared around him.
He could hear the sound of water, smell the steam and Pathos’s stench, and knew the evil werewolf was in the shower, giving Aragon hope that he’d be able to whisk Annette away undetected. No being, whether mortal or spirit, could smell through water or its thick vapor, for the iridescent blood of the warriors cleansed away filth and absorbed all scents.
Aragon! Annette’s mind shouted at him. She didn’t speak or move, but tears filled her eyes, and he could feel her entire being cry out to him. He gathered her in his arms, yet she lay limp within his grasp.
Drugged. Can’t move. Can’t speak. Thank God you came. We must hurry. Pathos is in the shower, and Cinatas will be back in a few minutes as well. Sam is at the gates.
Shh. He brushed his lips over hers. All will be well, he told her.
Taking off his amulet, he slid it over her neck, giving it back to her in part to comfort her, to mark her as his, and hoping her possession of it would renew the solidity he had felt while she had it before. He couldn’t tell if it made any immediate difference, but seeing his amulet on her made his heart beat with more assuredness than he’d ever felt before.
He gently laid her back so that he could gain his feet and swing her, covering sheet and all, solidly into his arms. That she had been reduced to such a helpless state sent a fiery rage burning through him. He wanted to tear Pathos apart from limb to limb.
Searching for a way out, he stepped into the next room, where a wall of glass doors led outside to a stone parapet. The evil gray mist hung thickly over the place, but he didn’t see any Underlings yet. Quickly he moved into the descending night. Rain began to sprinkle the mortal ground, thunder reverberated, and lightning crackled across the sky, signifying that the battle in the heavens had begun—the chill of Heldon’s cold army was rushing against the heated mass of the Guardian Forces.
Wait! We can’t leave! Stefanie may be here! I must find her! And what about Sam?
Stefanie here? Aragon paused just outside the door. He remembered the essence of Annette’s sister’s scent from her book of shape-shifters and were-beings, an insight into the spirit world that said Stefanie saw more than most mortals, or at least imagined more. He didn’t note that essence now. Was he losing even more of himself and his abilities? Becoming even more of a faded warrior?
They couldn’t linger. Once Pathos discovered that Annette was gone, he would raise the alarm, and they’d be trapped by the number of Underlings surrounding them.
Where? Where did you see her?
I haven’t. Pathos said he had her, would use her as a substitute for me.
He could have spoken falsely.
I know.
He wouldn’t be able to carry Annette to safety and then come back again. Not only did he fear that another crossing through the spirit barrier would be his last, but once the alarm would be sounded, they were lost. He had to look for Stefanie now and get them both out.
Stepping back into the room, Aragon drew in another deep breath, focusing completely on the scents inside the domain. I don’t detect her scent among those here.
Are you sure? Pathos said that he had just left her side. Almost as if she were in the next room.
No. I would know for certain if she were as close as that.
She must be here. Maybe tied and drugged like me. He said her skin was as soft as mine. She has to be here.
He touched her?
Yes.
Aragon would know without a doubt if he were to smell Pathos’s clothes. It was a risk, but one he felt he had to take just to ease the wrenching pain inside Annette’s heart. She’d sacrificed everything to save her sister, and he needed to do everything in his power to help.
He laid Annette just inside the door. I’ll be right back.
Stealing back through the rooms, Aragon slid to where Pathos bathed, surprised to see the steam billowing within the room. Most from the realm of the damned couldn’t tolerate heat, and he wondered what Pathos had done to change that fact for himself over the past millennia.
A sudden surge of anger coursed through Aragon’s body, and he clenched his hands. He could kill the beast now. He’d already condemned himself in order to fulfill that quest. But then what?
Any scenario besides immediate escape would make Annette pay the price. And she’d pay with her life and her soul. He couldn’t take the chance. He picked up Pathos’s clothing and carried it to Annette. He sniffed over every foul inch of it.
Nothing. There are other mortal scents, and blood, and even the scent of the man you call your neighbor, but none of Stefanie.
Rob Rankin?
Yes.
Tears filled Annette’s eyes, but they narrowed with an angry determination that seemed akin to his own. Pathos lied. What about Sam? What if he forces his way in?
There is too much dark magic. Sam won’t be able to get in until they want him to. We have to leave now. It may already be too late.
Let’s go.
As he stepped out into the night with Annette secure in his arms, he sensed her despair at having believed her sister near, only to lose her again.
I’ll find her. And he would. He could do no less.
Annette drew a breath of night air into her lungs. She didn’t know if the drug was starting to wear off or if Aragon’s presence had eased the knot of horror inside her, but she seemed to be breathing more deeply now. Either way, she welcomed the damp coolness, the taste of the gathering storm, and the scent of pine forest.
And of course the sensual aroma that belonged to Aragon alone. It wasn’t something she could put her finger on, but it was real and comforting, and as alluring to her feminine side as the warrior himself. She met his gaze, seeing the commitment of his heart in his promise to her. There was a tentative quality to his gaze that made her heart ache, making her realize more than ever that he was as vulnerable and needy as she—all of the mixture of emotions and dreams and desire that made her human now lived and breathed within him.
Yes. We will find her. Her spirit assured his. And you will change this fate of being a faded warrior.
Before he could respond, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and stared in horror as a black, winged batlike creature the size of a jaguar came at her with claws slashing and razorlike teeth bared.
/> Aragon swung around, shoving his broad shoulder between her and the attack. He stumbled at the impact, and the creature screeched; a sound so unholy that her entire body shuddered with a cold chill. Then Aragon pulled away and ran.
The creature flew after them. Annette could hear the fleshy slap of its wings in between its screams loud enough to awaken centuries of the dead. She struggled to do anything to help Aragon, but could only shift her head closer to the warmth of his shoulder.
Aragon leapt onto the stone railing of the balcony, and her breath gushed out in a spasm of fear. Pathos’s rooms had been on the fourth floor. Lightning ripped sideways across the night sky, as if headed directly at them. She couldn’t shut her eyes, she couldn’t scream—all she could do was reach out with her whole spirit, wanting to wrap her arms around Aragon. He jumped just before the lightning struck. It seemed that as they fell toward the ground, a storm burst wide open with a deafening thunderclap. Hard-hitting pellets of icy rain stung her skin.
He hit the ground with a jarring thud and didn’t even stumble as he broke into a run. Trees and bushes passed in a blur as he wove among the dense growth that protected them slightly from the raging storm. Sometimes he ducked low, sometimes he jumped high, but no matter how fast he ran, she could hear the growing number of screeches following them. The sound of hundreds of flapping wings was a cross between the roar of a train and the menacing drone of swarming killer bees on the attack.
The only thing holding the creatures off was Aragon’s speed. She could hear the felling of trees and brush behind her as the creatures tore after them. Suddenly the forest ended, opening to a clearing that would surely lead to their capture. Hard drops of rain, almost like bullets of icy hail, stung her everywhere.
Go back to the trees, she cried. This time she could clasp her arm closer to her pounding heart. The drug had to be losing some of its effect.
No. You can’t ever let Underlings surround you. You have to stay ahead. No matter what.
The Lure of the Wolf Page 22