Storm's Fury

by Nya Rayne

  She looked back at him in astonishment when he leaned away, her green eyes fawn-like. “We’re under attack and you choose now to kiss me?”

  “Could you pick a better time?”

  “Ah, yeah, like an hour from now. Or never, because I specifically remember telling you to never touch me like that again.”

  Fury chuckled and kissed her again.

  Stormy leaned away from him, breathless. She licked her lips and smiled at him. “You’re insane.”

  “For you, definitely.”

  Dark storm clouds rolled in overhead before the heavens opened and a tumultuous rain poured down on them. Its purpose was no doubt to put the fire currently protecting them out, but Fury was having no part of that. He brought the blaze higher so it circled over his and Stormy’s heads, sealing them in. He then cranked up the temperature so anything that came within ten feet of the fire would turn to ash immediately. The rain would become steam before it hit the fire barrier.

  “I’m going to drop you.”

  “The hell you are. Do you know how high up we are? I’ll break every bone in my body.”

  “Nonsense. Brutus will catch you and carry you to safety while I deal with this.”

  “No. Don’t. Let me stay with you.” She tightened her hold on him.

  Fury leaned away from her, brushed a few tendrils of hair from her face, and captured her lips again in a kiss that rivaled the fire surrounding them and the inferno building within him. It was meant to melt her insides and to promise her they would pick up right where they left off as soon as he was able to get her to a safe, soft, comfortable bed.

  He pulled away with regret, removed her arms from around his neck, and sent a call to Brutus. “From the moment I first laid eyes on you, love, nothing was or ever will be more important to me than you.” He released her.

  Stormy plummeted toward the ground, her eyes and arms reaching out to him in desperation. She never cried out in shock or pain, but the emotions written on her face warmed his heart.

  Brutus burst through the left wall of fire in the nick of time to catch Stormy on his wide back. He sprinted through the right side and out of Fury’s view, Sodona close on his left flank. When Fury was certain they were a decent distance away, he allowed the wall of flames to subside as he descended to the ground to hunt.

  “Furiosus, it’s been too long.” His foe said in a slow, patronizing drawl that grated on Fury’s last nerve. He didn’t have to wonder at who was attacking him any longer.

  Fury spun on Terroar, his fists clenched, lips pulled back in a biting snarl. “You’re as good as dead.”

  Terroar shot him a mocking frown. “Have you always been so angry?” He shifted, his grin back in place, as he rolled his shoulders and shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark slacks. “Or is this a new emotion?”

  “Have you always been a backstabbing bastard?” Fury spat at him. “Or is that new for you?”

  “Oh come now, friend, how long are you going to be mad about that?” Terroar scratched the side of his head and grinned innocently. “That was, what, a couple of years ago?” Silence greeted his statement. “Would it help if I told you it was for a good cause?”

  “Fuck you and your reasons.” Anger roiled through Fury. How dare Terroar call him friend when their friendship had ended the moment Terroar handed him over to those animals? His fists clenched, his fangs elongated, and Fury charged forward claws outstretched, aiming for Terroar’s jugular.

  Terroar vanished and reappeared a few feet away. “Come now. Do we need to fight? It was business, really. No hard feelings, eh?”

  “You betrayed me. Of all Anubi, Terroar—me, the one you called brother! You gave them the binding spell that kept me weak. You did that! You attacked Hatrid, and tried to kill us.”

  Terroar raised his hands in mock surrender. “Now, now, I wasn’t trying to kill you. I was simply getting your attention. The rest of that, I can’t really claim.”

  “Getting my attention?” Eyes narrowed, Fury pointed at the hole in his shirt and rapidly healing wound left over from the ice spear. “How the hell is a hole through my damn shoulder just getting my attention?”

  “I could’ve aimed more to the left.”

  That only served to anger Fury more. Fury lifted his arms in a quick arc, drawing on the static electricity in the air. Before Terroar could gauge what he was doing, Fury hurled the sizzling ball at Terroar’s head.

  Terroar dodged the attack by leaping onto a low-lying branch of a nearby tree. “What the hell was that for?” The bastard actually seemed confused.

  Fury refused to allow himself to get sidetracked by Terroar’s nonchalance. This was his tactic; up and until the viper struck, his adversary would believe he was talking to a long lost friend. Terroar could joke and laugh with a person one second and decapitate him the next, and all with a smile on his face. No, he wasn’t going to fall for it.

  “Pick one.”

  Terroar leapt from the tree, brushed the shoulder of his pristine white polo shirt off, straightened out his pants, and shot Fury a bored look before waving his hand dismissively. “Is it my fault you can’t take a joke?”

  Fury called up another ball of electricity while calling on the deepest bowels of Hell once more. “Since you like jokes so much, have you heard this one?” He hurled it at Terroar, driving him to the left, and then brought in a wave of lava in a rush of such rage that for a moment Terroar could only stare at it in awe.

  It rose high into the night sky incinerating every tree, twig, and animal not smart enough to run for cover—its aim on one person. Terroar tried to dodge it, but his left arm got caught in the edge of the fiery blaze. He screamed in agony as he shook and twitched his singed limb erratically. “Damn it, Furiosus. Lava? You son of a bastard,” he shouted.

  “What, you can’t take a fucking joke?” Fury teased, acid dripping from his voice. The ground rumbled beneath his feet and hundred-year-old trees bowed aggressively in testament of Terroar’s rage.

  Much better. It would’ve been near impossible for him to rip Terroar’s head off while he acted as if they were still the best of friends.

  Terroar looked down at his damaged appendage and then glared back at Fury. “You prick—didn’t I tell you I didn’t want to fight?” The skin and muscles covering his forearm and upper shoulder had been burned away, leaving the bone exposed. “But if you’re determined to die here tonight, I’m happy to oblige you.”

  Fury dropped into a low crouch. “Bring it.” He roared and barreled at Terroar, his mind in a blind rage.

  Every ounce of humiliation, every minute spent in darkness while lying in his own waste…every second of his stay with Dr. Marstow was vivid in his mind. The memory of searing pain as blade after blade pierced his skin, each time becoming more invasive because his body healed much too quickly for those bastards to do a truly thorough examination, was prominent. The only thing that mattered now was having Terroar’s warm blood run through his fingers.

  Terroar growled low, dropped his head, and charged, meeting Fury in midair. The air around them proliferated out in a wave of destruction and a loud thunderous boom that shook the earth around them. Crippled by the loss of his arm, Terroar bit down into the side of Fury’s neck, his incisors sinking deep, tearing away flesh.

  Pain rushed through Fury, but he blocked it out as he sunk his claws deep into Terroar’s back and pulled, tearing through muscles and bone, ripping it open. They pushed away from one another and in a burst of energy collided again, teeth gnashing, claws digging, blood flying.

  A clap of lighting and roll of thunder boomed, splintering trees all around them. The ground rose as if it had a life of its own. Rope-like roots once buried deep beneath the earth sprang up like poisonous snakes, surrounding them.

  Fury saw it coming and leapt away while kicking Terroar down to meet the swarm. There was only one Anubi capable of manipulating the earth like this.

  The ropes reached up like fingers, grasped Terroar’s le
ft ankle and yanked; while a separate, thicker root slithered its way up his body. Terroar twisted and writhed, screamed out in agony as the ones holding him tightened, like an African python.

  Fury turned his attention to the person responsible for the interruption. This isn’t your battle to interfere with, he snarled.

  No, but your chosen demanded I retrieve you, Crul replied. Besides, from the looks of it, you can only risk losing another pint or so of blood before you succumb to hibernation.

  Fury turned from him to Terroar. The roots that had held him were empty. A howl of rage and frustration ripped up from Fury’s throat as a cackle echoed from the trees to his left.

  We’ll do this again soon, old friend.

  Fury took two large steps and sprang into the sky, headed in the direction of Terroar’s aura. How about now, you fucking bastard?

  Come now, patience. You know it’s something of a virtue, don’t you? There was silence before Terroar came back with a soft sadistic chuckle. Oh, and Furiosus, tell Hatrid I said thanks. His little distraction worked perfectly.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “What’s taking them so long?” Stormy paced the area between the stone fireplace and picture window of Tempest and Crul’s living room, stopping every now and again to check the clock on the wall. “They should’ve been back by now, don’t you think?”

  “Honey, it’s only been a few minutes since Crul left.”

  How the hell can she be so calm? Stormy thought. Can’t she feel the electric charge in the atmosphere?

  Even if Tempest couldn’t, Stormy could, and it made the entire situation that much worse. In addition to that, she couldn’t shake the feeling Crul was going to find Fury’s dead body. She shook her head, her arms wrapped around her waist. As much as she wanted to deny it, she needed desperately to see Fury, to touch him, to feel his heart beating. She didn’t understand it, but the need to be near him again and know he was alive outweighed every other thought she might have had.

  “Stormy, come sit with me. Have some tea.” Tempest patted the empty seat next to her.

  Stormy looked at her and back to the window. She didn’t want to sit and have tea while Fury was out there fighting for his life. She needed to be doing something to help save him, but what?

  “Fury isn’t going to die, you know.”

  “What? How do you know?”

  “Because he’s Fury.” Tempest smiled sweetly. “And because his one true weakness is here with me.”

  Stormy stared at the serene looking woman for a long moment before she took a careful step in her direction. “What are you talking about? I read his mind earlier tonight. If whoever he’s fighting decapitates him and burns…” She couldn’t get the words out so she altered what she was going to say. “I read his mind; he can be killed.”

  “Yes, obviously if something like that happened, but do you know how bad he would need to be hurt for someone to inflict such a wound on him?” Tempest poured herself some tea. “I’ve seen him fight and bleed a hundred times, Stormy, but he wins in the end. All Anubi do.”

  “There’s a first time for everything, Tempest. I saw him die, remember?”

  Tempest pushed her long dark braid over her shoulder as she picked up her teacup and took a sip. “Yes, of course you did. I suppose it slipped my mind.” She took another sip and smiled up at Stormy. “But it was a vision, not a promise for the future. Speaking of which, have you ever had visions before?”

  Stormy thought about that. Outside of the vague dreams she had before each of her family members died or vanished, she’d never had anything happen to her like what occurred a few hours earlier. Her dreams had never been so vivid nor had her body acted in such a way, and the headache was definitely something new.

  “No, I can’t say I have.”

  “I see.”

  “What did you mean by his one true weakness is here?” Stormy took another step toward her.

  “Well, as his chosen mate, you are his one true weakness. The only other way he can be killed.”

  “What? I’m not—” She wasn’t sure whether she was going to deny being his chosen or his weakness because Tempest cut her off mid-sentence.

  “You’re both his one true weakness and his chosen mate, Stormy. Simply because you wish to deny it doesn’t make it untrue.”

  “You sound like him.”

  “Perhaps it’s the decades we’ve had of living together, but it doesn’t change the facts.”

  “Your facts.” Stormy waved her hand dismissively. She could only deal with one thing at a time right now and if Tempest expected her to deal with more, she was about to be sorely disappointed.

  Tempest continued, “What you have to understand is that the Anubi were created. They have no mother or father, no grandparents. They were created initially to aid in the ushering of souls from this life to the next, but upon Anubis’s death, were given the sole purpose of protecting us, the female descendants of Anubis.”

  Stormy looked away and sighed in resignation. “Sounds vaguely familiar.”

  “You heard this from Fury?”

  “Until you, he was the only one spewing such lip-assery.”

  Tempest smiled at her as if she expected nothing less than what Stormy was giving to her. “Well, did he also tell you that up until the time Anput betrayed Anubis, the Anubi had hearts that pumped blood, and lungs that needed air? It wasn’t until Anubis was murdered that they understood these organs functioned only because Anubis was alive. The moment Anubis’s heart ceased to beat and his lungs refused to function, so did theirs.”

  She had definitely woken up in the middle of an episode of the Twilight Zone. No one could survive without a heartbeat or oxygen. Exactly how dense did Tempest really think Stormy was?

  But, Stormy had to admit the tale was riveting. She loved Egyptian mythology, but in none of the books she had read in high school or come across on her journey around the country had she found any stories quite like this.

  “Okay, so what does that have to do with me being Fury’s weakness?”

  Tempest took another sip of her tea and set the cup on the ceramic coaster before lifting the hem of her skirt. Glancing at Stormy, she pointed to a spot on the inside of one of her ankles and continued, “This is the ankh. It symbolizes eternal life. Over the centuries it has meant a lot of things to a lot of people. Some women with this mark were said to be witches and were burned at the stake, because while they weren’t witches, they could do remarkable things—such as talk to animals, see the future, soothe the most intense situations, and cast spells. Some viewed this symbol as a sign of devil worship. Its one true purpose, Stormy, is to label us—you and me and other women like us—as the heart and lungs of the Anubi.”

  Stepping closer to her, Stormy peered down at the little black smudge that vaguely resembled a cross. The bottom of it appeared to be a cross, but the top was an oval shape that appeared more like a sideways slanted eye. She’d seen it a hundred times before on her mother, grandmother, and her aunt. They had said it was a birthmark, which was passed down through the women of each generation of their family. It was also what her great-great-great grandmother said identified them as descendants of the gods.

  “That mark?” Stormy took a step back away from Tempest.

  “You’ve seen it before? On your person, perhaps?”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t have one, but my grandmother, mother, and aunt had them.”

  Tempest shot her a quizzical look and stood up. “You have to have one. If you didn’t, you couldn’t have made Fury’s heart beat again. You would not have known how to bind him to you.”

  If she wasn’t sure before, she was damn sure now. This was definitely Alice in Wonderland on PCP. “That’s what I’ve been telling you people all along. I didn’t bind him to anything. He kidnapped me.” As far as she was concerned, that was the long and short of it. But as she said it, she turned to the window looking for any sign of him. She found only the silhouettes of Brutus and S
odona as they paced back and forth across the front lawn—her vigilant protectors.

  “He may have kidnapped you, but only after you spoke the words calling his heart to yours. You see, as a direct descendant of Anubis, the women who carry the ankh symbol on their bodies are able to bind an Anubi to them without even knowing what they are doing. Only when the male has been accepted by her in every way will she remember doing it.”

  “Jesus, you’re as whacked as he is. Bind him to me? You should listen to yourself.”

  “Even as you stand there denying this, Stormy, do you not feel a yearning to see him, to touch him, and to know that he’s safe?”

  “Naturally, but I’m also not a monster. I have a heart and I care about people.”

  “Since it seems you’re unwilling to believe anything I have to say, I want you to do something for me.” Tempest moved to the mahogany console table beside the window and pulled open the solitary drawer. As she turned back to face Stormy, she held out the item she’d retrieved and said, “Take this and give your body a thorough inspection. Every crevice and nook, Stormy. The ankh is often located in sometimes inconspicuous and intimate places.”

  “This is silly. My body hasn’t changed since I was a teenager. I didn’t have that mark then and I damn sure don’t have it now. He’s nuts, you’re nuts, this whole freaking situation is nuts.”

  “Humor me. Besides, you should clean yourself up before Fury gets here.”

  Only then did Stormy notice her sullied clothes and the dirt embedded under her nails. Her feet looked like she had been tramping through a mixture of mud and dog poop. She lifted the small pocket-sized mirror Tempest gave her and stared at her reflection. As quickly as she lifted it, she dropped her hand and stared at the perfect woman before her, who didn’t have a strand of hair out of place. “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “Down the hall, the last door on the left. I’ll bring in a change of clothes for you.”

  Stormy turned and stalked away. “Great.” She hoped the sarcasm in her tone wasn’t for naught.

  Was it called disappointment?