The Crystal Warriors Series Bundle

by Maree Anderson

  No Wulf.

  She dragged her sorry butt back to the bedroom, all the while lecturing herself that there was no need to panic. He must have returned while she was out cold, woken up before she had, and headed out again. Yeah. That was it.

  She focused on the bed, noting its one obviously slept-upon pillow. Rumpled bedding on the left side. A perfectly made-up, smooth right side—his side. She couldn’t hide from the truth any longer. Wulf hadn’t come home last night.

  The bedroom closed in on her. She needed space, air. She staggered out into the main studio and stood, head hanging, sucking in deep shuddering breaths. Enough. She had to do something, had to know for sure. She perched on the edge of the registration desk to use the phone. Her hand shook as she dialed Sam’s number. She swung her foot in time to the phone’s rings. Finally, Marcus answered. “Is Wulf there?” she asked, too anxious to bother with pleasantries.

  “That you, Chalcey?”

  “Yes. Is he there?”

  “No. Is something—?”

  She hung up and dialed the club where Wulf worked, just in case he’d gone straight there after his dinner date. Not that he had any reason to, since he’d taken the night off. But he might have gone in if someone had called in sick, right? No answer. Not surprising since it was now past eight and the club would be closed.

  She even dialed Adagio, only to hang up when the restaurant’s message service kicked in. What could she say? “Excuse me, but did you happen to notice a really large man dressed in leather pants and a vest asleep under a table when you closed up for the evening?” Huh. She’d sound like a crazy woman.

  She gnawed her thumbnail while she dredged up the courage to make the next call. Pacing the floor did nothing for her state of mind. Dammit. If she didn’t do it now, she’d never dredge up the courage to do it later.

  Hotel reception dialed her mother’s room. The call took an eternity to connect.

  “Hello?” His husky, sleep-filled voice kicked her right in the gut. She doubled over, gasping, wanting to puke up her guts again. Betrayal hammered her soul.

  “W-Wulf?” she finally managed to gasp. There would be a logical explanation for him answering the phone in her mother’s suite. There had to be.

  “What is it that you want, Chalcedony?”

  She clutched the receiver, her knuckles turning white. What the hell kind of a question was that? “You. I want you.” She squeezed her eyelids shut. If she said what she was thinking aloud, she might make it true. She couldn’t bear it to be true. But not knowing was killing her. “I don’t care where you spent the night. Or who you spent it with.”

  A pause which seemed to go on forever, while her heart tripped in her chest and her skin went hot-cold-hot. And then his voice lashed out at her. “After what we have gone through together, how can you think so little of me? Do you truly believe that I would seek solace in the arms of another?”

  She nearly dropped the phone. “But my mother. She—”

  “Enough. I will discuss this no further.”

  His voice sounded flat and so desperately tired that Chalcey’s heart ached. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it. Of course I didn’t think that you and she— You have to come home. Please, Wulf. I-I need you. When are you coming home?

  “I am not coming home, Chalcedony. Francesca was correct. We are not meant for each other. I know that now. And I accept my fate.”

  Dread squeezed her heart. “No! You can’t. Whatever she said to you— It doesn’t matter. You belong here, with me. Come home, Wulf. Please?”

  “I cannot. For your sake, I cannot.”

  “No!” She screamed into the disconnected phone. “No.”

  The truth hit her, and there was no escaping it. She’d been using Pieter’s spell as an excuse to hold a tiny part of herself back from Wulf. But what she felt for him was crystal clear. It was something that she’d never felt for any other man and no spell could replicate those feelings. At night, wrapped in his arms, listening to his even breathing as he slipped into sleep, she felt warm and safe and loved. She loved him. Real, gut-wrenching, want to be with him forever, love.

  She found herself lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, with no memory of toppling from her seat on the edge of the registration desk. Tears welled, dripped silently down her cheeks.

  She loved Wulf. And instead of telling him that, she’d blathered on about wanting him, needing him, everything but tell him the truth.

  And God, how she wished that she’d told him, made him listen, forced him to believe her, because maybe, just maybe, it might have made a difference. But now it was too late.

  ~~~

  Chapter Seventeen

  The stairwell steps creaked, slicing through her misery.

  It could only be Wulf’s footsteps that she heard. He’d forgiven her for thinking the worst of him, forgiven her for being a jealous fool and a coward. He’d come back to her. She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands, swiped at her runny nose and hauled herself to her knees.

  She experienced a brief moment of burgeoning hope before some primitive part of her brain analyzed the footsteps and understood her visitor was not Wulf. Even before the door opened and Sam and Marcus entered the room, Chalcey had slumped back to the floor and given herself up to heaving sobs that wracked her body.

  “Christ!” Marcus’s shocked voice echoed though the studio. “What the fuck happened, Chalce? Are you hurt?”

  Sam raced to Chalcey’s side, her heels clacking on the floorboards. Sam tried to turn her over but she’d curled up into a fetal position, hugging the floor as though her life depended on it. At that moment, she believed that it did. Facing reality was going to kill something deep inside her.

  Sam took charge. “Hang up that phone and help me get her into the bedroom, Marcus. Let’s see if we can get some sense out of her.”

  With Sam’s help, Marcus maneuvered Chalcey into his arms. “Jesus, she’s ice-cold! What the hell is going on?”

  “Of course she’s bloody ice-cold, dumbass. She’s only wearing panties and she’s probably been lying here for at least an hour, thanks to you. If you’d woken me when she called, we’d have gotten here before she ended up in this state.”

  “How the fuck was I to know? And why is she like this, anyway?”

  “Duh! Because obviously Wulf hasn’t come home from his big night out with Francesca and she’s gutted. Let’s get her in to bed and warm her up.”

  They bickered like an old married couple, a fact that should have made Chalcey grin like a loon. She hadn’t even realized that she was half-naked, and that should have embarrassed the heck out of her. But everything seemed to be happening through a grayed out, misery-infused haze. She felt detached from the world, cocooned, incapable of feeling anything but pain and anguish.

  And guilt.

  Sam and Marcus put her to bed, tucking her beneath the covers like parents would settle a small child. They argued over what to do about her, too, their muted whispers hissing back and forth in the darkness of her mind.

  Sam placed her cool hand on Chalcey’s forehead. “Open your eyes, Chalce. Talk to me. Tell me what happened or Marcus is threatening to call a doctor.”

  Prying open her eyelids was a mammoth chore. Chalcey gazed up at the concerned face of her best friend. She tried to speak but could only manage a croak.

  Sam clicked her fingers. “Glass of water.”

  Marcus left the room in a rush.

  “It’s Wulf, isn’t it, Chalce? And it’s more than him just not coming home last night.” She brushed the hair back from Chalcey’s face. “Have you two split up?”

  She nodded, staring up at Sam through a blur of tears.

  “But I thought you’d decided to see it all the way through to the Testing?”

  “I had.”

  “And?”

  “He… he doesn’t… want to.”

  “Shit.” She swiveled as Marcus returned, took whatever he handed to her and examined it minutely. “Good
idea. Thanks, hon. Chalce, I want you to sit up a bit and swallow these.” She pressed a couple of pills into her hand. “They’ll help you to sleep.”

  “Sleep. That’s good. I want to sleep.” Chalcey washed the pills down with gulps of water from the glass Sam pressed to her lips.

  “So where’s Wulf now, do you know?” she asked.

  “With Francesca. At her hotel.”

  Sam growled deep in her throat like a mama cat protecting her kittens. “Should have known that uptight bitch would have something to do with it.”

  “Francesca?” Marcus asked.

  “Chalcey’s mother. She bought him at the auction.”

  “Oh,” he said. Then, “Ohhh!”

  She wasn’t the only one who’d thought the worst. But that was no solace. Not now. She started to cry again, great gulping sobs of despair. “It’s… it’s over, Sam. I’ve failed. F-failed the Testing. P-Pieter’s going to… to… destroy Wulf. K-kill him. It’s… it’s over!”

  “Shhh, Chalce.” Sam gathered Chalcey into her arms to rock her while Marcus rubbed her back. “It’ll be all right. I promise.”

  The real world receded as the drugs took effect, wrapping Chalcey in comforting cotton-wool. She must have lain back down again—or perhaps Sam had pushed her back against the mattress. She stared at the ceiling.

  It was all fuzzy-looking, the ceiling, like someone had blurred its edges. Sam was fuzzy around the edges, too. And Marcus. Chalcey was buoyant, floating above the black abyss of her pain. Maybe later she would let it claim her. For now, all she wanted to do was sleep. But Marcus wouldn’t stop asking questions.

  “What’s she talking about, Sam? Who’s going to kill Wulf? And what the fuck’s this testing she’s going on about?”

  “Erm, it’s nothing, hon,” Sam said. “She’s upset and she’s not making much sense. Because of the drugs.”

  “Bullshit. You know exactly what she’s talking about. Tell me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? Don’t you trust me to keep my mouth shut? Maybe I can help.”

  Even through her drug-induced fog, Chalcey understood and recognized his hurt. He thought that Sam didn’t trust him enough to include him. This, at least, she could fix. “Tell him, Sam,” she whispered. “Don’t let him think you don’t trust him. Tell him everything. It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over. I’ve failed and Wulf’s left me. Soon it’ll be too late, anyway. He’ll be gone forever.”

  He’s gone. It’s over. We’re over. Her mind shut down and she embraced unconsciousness.

  She dreamed that Wulf was trapped in his crystal again. He whispered her name, over and over, clinging to it like a lifeline. But Chalcey didn’t answer him. She didn’t call his name or try to establish a link with him through the bond they shared. She didn’t confront the Crystal Guardian and attempt to rescue Wulf from his crystalline hell. She turned her back on him, repudiated him. And the fragile bond between them snapped.

  Wulf sensed the breaking. He fought like a demon. He gouged his wrists and throat with his nails, trying to rip through skin and muscle so he would bleed out. He screamed, great wails of despair tearing over and over from his throat until he was hoarse and could scream no more. Finally, he fell still. And even though she knew he suffered, she did nothing.

  She woke with a pounding jack-hammer of a headache, and a massive case of the dry-horrors from the sedatives. She clung to one thought. Wulf had only relinquished her to protect her, because if they failed the Testing, he didn’t want her to suffer.

  Stupid bastard. God help them both, he was being noble.

  She had to fight for him.

  There was still time. The twenty-eight days decreed by the Crystal Guardian’s spell wasn’t yet up. Chalcey had to make this right, do her utmost to strengthen their bond in the hope that if—when—the crystal took him, she would be able to call him back. She had to at least try to make him listen to her, try to make it clear how she truly felt. Or she’d never, ever forgive herself.

  She rolled out of bed onto her hands and knees, and stayed there awhile with her head hanging until the room stopped spinning. Then she crawled to her feet, lurched over to the chest of drawers, and yanked out some fresh clothes.

  All she could say about the shower she took was that it was wet and hot, and it did the job. Despite using the ladies’ bathroom which was a slightly different configuration to the men’s, despite the pale peach shower curtain instead of green, the cubicle was so filled with memories of Wulf, and the first time they’d made love, Chalcey had to grit her teeth to bear even the short time it took to wash.

  She shoved herself into her clothes, dragged a comb through her tangles, and headed downstairs. Too much to hope for a clean escape. Halfway down she encountered Sam, loaded down with croissants and bagels, freshly squeezed OJ, and a couple of coffees.

  “Damn. Thought I’d be back before you woke up,” she said. “Where the heck d’you think you’re going?”

  “Four Seasons Hotel. I have to talk to Wulf.”

  She nodded slowly, her green eyes flashing with satisfaction in the gloomy stairwell. “You’re going to fight for him. Good. Saves me from having to roust you out of your funk and kick your ass this morning. Want me to come with?”

  Chalcey considered her offer. Tempting, so very tempting to have Sam for back up to prod her if she faltered. Not to mention bitch-slap Francesca if she interfered. “No. Thanks, but I have to do this on my own.”

  “I hear you. But you’re not going anywhere without food.” She shoved a bagel bag at Chalcey. “Coffee or OJ?”

  “OJ.” She figured she needed the vitamin C kick more than the caffeine.

  Sam handed over a juice. “The rest will be waiting for you when you get back. Except for the coffee, of course. I’ll just have to drink that for you. Go sock it to him, Chalce. Don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, you hear me? Good luck.”

  Chalcey hugged her around the coffees and juice and bags, and then continued on down the stairs.

  “Call me if you’re not up to walking back,” Sam yelled.

  “I will.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  As she finished the last bite of her bagel, Chalcey reasoned that if she asked hotel reception to ring ahead, neither Wulf nor Francesca would permit their room number to be given out. And as luck would have it, there were two guys on the reception desk. She hung back till the youngest guy manning the desk was free, then strolled over to coax the room number out of him.

  “Hi, I’m Chalcedony Laureano. I’m having breakfast with my mother, Francesca Laureano-Owens? But I can’t for the life of me remember what her room number is. I’m hopeless before I’ve had my first coffee of the morning” She leaned on the desk, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and rocking forward to afford him a prime view down her cleavage. For good measure, she gave a breathy giggle. “Gosh, I’m such an airhead. I wrote it down somewhere, too, but I can’t remember where I put the note.”

  He was talented young man. He managed to call up Francesca’s details on the reservations computer with one eye on the screen and the other on Chalcey’s best assets.

  “I’m treating her to breakfast,” she said, batting her eyelashes like an oversized Kewpie doll. “Can you recommend somewhere nice? Not too expensive, though. I’m a bit broke at the moment.”

  “The café just down the corner from here does a great budget breakfast,” he said. “Their pancakes are the best.”

  “Hey, thanks!” she cooed, laying it on real thick. “You’re a real sweetheart.” She sucked in a deep breath. And held it.

  His gaze was glued to her cleavage when he said, “Room 616. Go right on up.”

  Score. Chalcey headed on up. She rapped on the door of 616. She heard footsteps inside the room. Coming closer….

  ~~~

  Wulf opened the door. Chalcey breezed past him before he could even voice the words he’d planned to deny her admittance.

  “Y
ou’re supposed to check before you open the door,” she said. “I could have been anyone.”

  He’d been expecting something like this. Francesca didn’t know her daughter as well as she believed. Chalcey wouldn’t give him up without a fight. “Why did you come here, Chalcedony?”

  She sank gracefully onto the settee and draped her arms over its plush back. “Nice suite. She sure doesn’t stint when it comes to creature comforts. And speaking of Francesca, where is my mother, anyway?” Her gaze cut to the bedroom. The one and only bedroom. He shouldn’t blame her for thinking the worst of him. Except that in his secret heart of hearts he did. Knowing she had believed that he’d betrayed her—even just for a moment or two, until he’d disabused her of the notion—cast a pall over his soul.

  “Don’t tell me she’s still snoozing. Why don’t you go wake her up, Wulf? I’d appreciate the chance to tell her face-to-face what I think of her.”

  Her gaze raked him, lingering. He wore only light cotton sleep pants. It took every bit of willpower he possessed to dampen his desires and not physically react to her hungry gaze. He lost the battle and turned on his heel to head toward the kitchen area.

  “She is not here,” he said, when both he and his hard, eager cock were safely out of sight behind the counter. “She traveled back to her husband last night.”

  “Oh?” Momentary surprise and then a nod of understanding. “She set this up so I’d think the worst and show my true colors. Clever—I’ve got to hand it to her. So who’s paying for the room? You?”

  He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “No. The next few days have been paid for by your mother. I may stay here until I am—”

  “Sucked back into those unlovely hunks of wulfenite crystal?”