The Curse

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  She tapped her forehead, drawing together all the bits and pieces she'd gleaned and adding those to Grady's information. "I'm confused. If the Svarts believe they're capable of taking down the North American division of VIPER, which I hope can't happen, why would they wait on anyone else to pave the way?"

  "You ain't listenin'. Svarts do exactly what they contract for. If they're holdin' off callin' in more trolls, it's probably because the folks the Svarts made a deal with are the ones that are gonna take down VIPER, not the Svarts."

  Pieces of the puzzle started flying at her, demanding to be put into place. "Who could possibly think--"

  "You ain't lookin' at the big picture."

  That wrenched her attention back to him. "How much bigger should I think beyond seeing this world destroyed by a bunch of trolls led by seriously dangerous ones?"

  Grady gave her an indulgent look and switched into his all-knowing--and much better educated--teacher tone, which popped up at the most unexpected times, hinting at a past that contradicted his homeless persona. "What's the backbone of VIPER, the strongest force within the coalition?"

  "The Beladors."

  "Right, so it stands to reason that whoever made a deal with these ugly cannibals may have a plan to take down the Bel-a-dors," he stressed as if he spoke to a slow student. "If that is the case, then maybe the Svart only have to accomplish whatever their mission is, then wait for their client to destroy the Beladors, which would gut VIPER. Once that happens, the Svart can call in their other buddies and turn Atlanta into Troll Central. Then the whole US of A."

  Could he be right? Could this be about the Beladors? And, if so, that would make the Svart client ... "The Medb could be behind this."

  "That's what I'm thinking."

  She flexed her fingers in and out, ready to get moving. Grady had put together a lot of information. "Did you figure out all that on your own?"

  He scratched his neck, jumping back into his street persona. "Naw."

  "Got anything else to tell me?"

  "Only that those things are huntin' you."

  Just like Storm had told her when he'd followed a Svart's trail to her bike this morning while she met with Quinn. "So that's why you came to find me."

  "Had to since you ain't got sense enough to stay outta trouble." He cut his eyes at her with intent. "Next time, you best have a bottle if you want to trade."

  Grady knew some places to hunt for her, but he wouldn't have known to locate her bike in this deserted parking deck. "How did you find me?"

  "That Injun tracker came lookin' for me by the hospital."

  "Storm? What did he want?"

  "Said he was worried about you. Somethin' about the Svarts and some other woman he had to keep you away from."

  "Adrianna?" Evalle's fingers curled into a fist instinctively.

  "Naw. Wasn't her. Some witch doctor."

  Ah! The woman Evalle had agreed to help Storm find in exchange for his helping her hunt Tristan weeks ago. And Evalle still had to make good on her part of that deal.

  Grady tsked at her.

  "What?"

  "That Injun told me about the Svarts huntin' for you. Said you were in danger but you didn't want his help. What's wrong with you?"

  She didn't have enough hours in the day to do justice to that question. Making a hand motion to move this along, she said, "I'll catch up with Storm and find out what he knows. But don't tell anyone you saw him, okay?"

  "I know that. I told him I wouldn't say nothin'."

  "Just tell me what Storm told you about the Svarts." She had a tough time following Grady sometimes.

  Did attention deficit transfer to ghoul form?

  "Said he'd been trackin' them things around town and smelled a Svart not far from Oakland Cemetery that had a tainted odor ... like a demon."

  "A demon? Two different kinds of Svarts?" She could use some good news anytime now.

  "Maybe. Or might just be he stank."

  "We need Storm to find these things before this gets any worse. Maybe that's what I sensed earlier when I got out of Isak's Hummer. I felt a wave of energy over there."

  Grady looked around, peering in the direction she'd pointed. "Naw, that wasn't a Svart 'cause that Injun slipped into the dark over yonder right before you showed up with Rambo."

  What? Her mouth turned cotton dry. "Grady ... do you think Storm--"

  "Saw you smoochin' Rambo? Yep."

  Evalle slapped a hand over her eyes. This was catastrophic. "What was he doing here?"

  "I done told you. That Injun's a tracker. I talked him into findin' you for me." Grady looked around at the empty parking deck, mumbling. "Should be thankin' me, but you got a bottle or french fries? No."

  "Grady, please."

  Evalle had to find Storm, but how?

  Wait a minute. As she lowered her hand, Evalle's heart started thumping at one possibility, a slim one. Storm had said he'd put his address in the e-mail draft he'd set up for them to communicate. Without that, the chances of finding him were less than locating one specific grain of sand in an hourglass.

  She just had to get to a computer and access the e-mail with his address ... before Storm changed the password.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Quinn stepped off the elevator onto the floor for his hotel room, debating on going to the suite or not. He didn't want to deal with Lanna right now, especially when he'd have to explain why he needed to leave again. But neither could he go to the second suite he'd taken without checking to see if Lanna was still safe.

  If the gods had any respect for a man's sanity, Lanna would be asleep.

  When Quinn entered the suite he'd sent her to, he found the minibar had been raided of everything except alcohol. Lanna's suitcase had exploded in the living area, clothes tossed right and left. At the door to the bedroom, he found a note that read, Cousin, please do not wake me before midnight unless important.

  Quinn put his hand on the knob, prepared to open the door until he read the last line, And cover eyes if you come in room. I did not pack nightgown and do not want embarrass us both.

  He jerked his hand back as though he'd reached for a snake.

  There was no way he would go inside there short of the fire alarm going off. Not with his cousin naked.

  Crossing the minefield of clothes all over the room, he found a hotel notepad and wrote her a message to call him as soon as she woke up, that he was close by. With a second look at the chaos in the room, he dragged a chair from the dining table into the walkway and put the note on the seat where she couldn't miss it. Then he retrieved the warded Triquetra from where he'd hidden the triangular stylized throwing blade beneath a small table in the foyer. He slipped the hand-size flat metal piece inside his suit jacket.

  On his way to the elevator, he fingered the room key card for the second suite he'd taken on the top floor.

  A room where he could confront Kizira without any chance of Lanna being around.

  He used the silent ride up to check for any areas in his mind that felt weak before he undertook this gamble. All systems were go, just as when he'd left the mountain retreat with the druids.

  Tzader and the Beladors needed him to turn the tables on the Medb, especially on Kizira.

  Reaching the new suite, Quinn found everything in place, right down to the suitcase identical to the one in his room where Lanna slept. He'd made all the arrangements on his way back to the hotel. Clothes and personal items had been purchased and packed into the suitcase, then delivered here.

  Kizira had to believe this was his only room.

  And Lanna couldn't know Quinn had another suite or the teenage busybody would find a way to stick her nose in where it would get them both killed.

  He made quick work of unpacking and placing personal items in appropriate locations, but he didn't hang his warded Triquetra on the hotel-room doorknob. He doubted Kizira had come through the front door the last time anyway.

  Didn't matter. He intended to be ready for her this time.
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br />   Now if he could just toughen his heart.

  She'd held a piece of that stubborn organ for years, but had never given him reason to think she'd take advantage of their connection to harm him or the Beladors.

  Call him foolish for believing she cared for him.

  Call him an idiot for having fallen in love with her thirteen years ago.

  He'd had no idea that she was Medb when they'd first met and he'd saved her life, then she'd saved his. They spent two weeks hiding out, running from a threat, or so he'd thought. He'd figured out later that she'd been evading Medb warlocks sent to return a priestess-in-training to Queen Flaevynn of TAmr Medb.

  That had been then, before either of them had seen so much Belador and Medb blood flow beneath the bridge of hatred.

  Ready to do his job, Quinn headed for the shower, more than ready to wash away battle crud from the last gang attack. When he stepped into the hot steam, he steeled himself for his next move and lowered his mental shields.

  He envisioned Kizira inside his mind, in that private area that no one had ever entered until she'd rushed past his mental shields during Conlan's mind probe. He could have lived with that, but not with what she did later, coming into his room and using her powers to soothe his crushing migraine ... to seduce him, and to use his weakness to gain information to harm his friends.

  Be fair. It wasn't as though he'd required much seducing. When it came to Kizira, he rarely went a day without thinking of her and missing what they'd shared.

  Quinn? Can you hear me? This is Kizira.

  There she was. He soaped his skin, fighting the ripple of unease that raced along his spine at how easily she'd entered his mind.

  Answering too quickly would be a mistake.

  He'd have to act wary and not answer right away to convince her that she'd surprised him. He shampooed his hair, buying a few moments. Guilt gnawed at his resolve to do this, warning that what he intended to do--what he had to do--would carry a price he'd pay daily for the rest of his life.

  Quinn? Please. I've been waiting to talk to you about ... our last visit.

  He crushed the bar of soap, forcing his breath to slow down and focus on her as a threat. Think about how she'd breached his mental privacy. Time to harden his heart and see Kizira as he should have all along--a priestess of the queen who ruled the most dangerous enemy of the Beladors.

  Grasping a towel to dry off, Quinn walked out to the living room and answered, What would we possibly discuss, Kizira?

  Please, Quinn.

  Why are you asking when you clearly didn't need permission to enter my hotel room last time?

  I'm asking this time.

  He had to take care that he made her work for every inch she gained or she'd sense the trap. I found the bracelet of my hair you left in my hotel room.

  She said nothing to that, but then how could she?

  The bracelet had been a clear message of finally admitting her regret over having ever met him. He just couldn't understand why she'd wanted to make love with him three weeks back.

  No, not make love. That had been a straight-up shagging.

  He would not confuse that one time with what had happened between them in Chechnya years ago.

  No one could take that from him.

  Her voice came to him, a soft plea pushing her words. I don't think you understand why I left the bracelet, Quinn.

  He wrapped the towel around his lower half, tucking the ends, and allowed a healthy dose of frustration to boil through his reply. If we must have this conversation, we might as well have it now. You may enter my hotel room.

  Light glowed between him and the wide window.

  Tiny sparkles glittered in the air until Kizira took form, every gorgeous inch of her covered in a Mediterranean-blue gown. A river of hair the color of hot embers rushed around her shoulders. She'd actually toned down how brightly she could glow. He'd seen it darker, almost black sometimes. But this color suited her best. Gave her a fiery appeal.

  She tested a smile. "Hello, Quinn."

  His body held a party downstairs that kinetics couldn't stop from pressing against the towel, but that actually worked in his favor to help sell his plan. Sounding angry took little effort when he spoke. "You're here. Make it quick."

  Her gaze traced his body, pausing at the towel. "Are you going to deny you're happy to see me?"

  "We both know that a penis is easily influenced by the simplest suggestion, such as a woman stroking it ... even when the man it belongs to has no control over his mind or actions."

  She raised hurt eyes to him. "I came to tell you I'm sorry."

  "You think saying I'm sorry will work? I got the message you left on my bathroom vanity just fine. Why are you here?"

  Shock stole over her face. "No, you don't understand." Kizira walked forward, hands clenched. "I left the bracelet to tell you that I regretted what I had to do that night."

  He didn't understand, which must have shown in his confused expression.

  Taking another step closer that put her an arm's reach away, she said, "I will never regret having met you in Chechnya or the time we spent together. I would never have given up that bracelet if there had been any other way to leave you a message."

  "Explain," he said with no small amount of suspicion.

  "I wanted you to know that it killed me to take advantage of you when your mind was in ruins from a probe, and I'm glad I could ease your pain, but I'm not happy about interrogating you then. I was terrified you wouldn't recover from the damage you suffered."

  Could that be true? She had eased the hideous explosion of pain in his head ... but she'd also withdrawn information about Evalle. Momentarily caught between his duty and his heart, he asked, "Then why did you use me to find Evalle, Kizira?"

  "I had no choice." Her eyes were damp, overflowing with pain. "Flaevynn compelled me to find Evalle immediately. Her compulsion demanded that I find her no matter how I did it. Flaevynn's compulsion works in strange ways sometimes. To fulfill her order to locate Evalle, I subconsciously tapped into a way to gain that information based on my relationship with you."

  He made a disgusted sound that caused her to rush her words.

  "But I've kept information about you shielded from Flaeyvnn. I've never shared a word about ... us. And won't as long as she doesn't know to compel me to tell her specifically about you."

  To have been born with such a formidable mind, Quinn cursed how soft his damned heart could be when it came to this woman. She hadn't wanted to return to the Medb when he'd met her in Chechnya, and to the day he died he'd believe that she had left him back then only to protect him.

  But he had a duty to the Beladors, and his connection with Kizira put Brina and the entire Belador tribe at risk. He couldn't afford to make the mistake of folding to his emotions.

  Kizira's coming here now could be nothing more than another stab at entrapping him.

  Cooling his tone, he said, "Then it seems as though I should believe Flaevynn has compelled you to come here today, correct? Since you obviously have no autonomy when it comes to using your body to get what you want."

  She blinked back tears, too strong to cry. "I came on my own today. I've been compelled to do a task, but it does not include seeing you, or having sex with anyone. I came here only to apologize for doing something I couldn't stop, but--" She lifted her chin, fire churning her gaze to the same blazing emeralds that passion had once brought out. "Know this. I don't regret making love with you thirteen years ago or three weeks ago and won't let you taint something you enjoyed just as much as I did."

  She had that right.

  He bloody wanted her now.

  Just as much as he wanted to believe her when she said she'd been compelled.

  That was the danger of playing this game. Someone would get burned and he couldn't afford for it to be him this time. Not with so much at stake.

  He knew of only one hope for getting past the shields around her mind without her catching him. He'd have to overr
un her senses until she couldn't think. Take her to the edge of climax and hold her there, separating her mind from her body.

  She waited for him to acknowledge that he'd enjoyed their coupling as much as she had.

  Refusing to allow the anxiety riding her gaze to deter him, he answered with cold determination. "Fine. We'll call the shagging a draw. That make you feel better?"

  She winced. "So that's it? You aren't willing to forgive me? Or is it that you don't believe me?"

  He looked away, searching for the anger he'd carried for weeks. How could the pain in her voice slide past his resolve and feed the guilty knot in his chest? Swinging his gaze back to her, he admitted, "I don't know what to believe most days."

  Hope unfolded in her gaze, delicate as a rose opening to sunshine.

  Did she speak the truth?

  He cursed the stars above for putting him on the opposite side of a war from her.

  "I am sorry, Quinn. I would never use you against your own people if I had a choice." She floated just above the floor, moving toward him until he could feel the heat coming off of her.

  He reached out and ran two fingers along her cheek. Her smile trembled. He swallowed, strangling on the urge to wrap her in his arms and keep her safe from everything, including himself.

  "What is it, Quinn?"

  "Foolish thoughts."

  Her sensuous lips curved with a smile. "Tell me."

  "Just wondering if we'll ever see the day we aren't enemies."

  "You're not my enemy."

  He started to correct her, but she'd realize how wrong she was soon enough once he gained the information he needed.

  Hadn't that been the point of calling her in? To seduce her so he could mine her memories?

  She unfolded her hands as if she intended to lift her arms and wrap them around his neck, but hesitated.

  He'd been an arrogant fool to think he could do this. Sweat dampened his upper lip. He would gain the information some other way, but not by using her.

  She put her hand lightly against his chest and he stifled a moan. His skin yearned to feel her hands everywhere. Her fingers toyed with the dusting of blond hair on his chest. He grasped her hand to stop her from tormenting him.

  He was supposed to be doing the tormenting.

  Cupping her wrist to his lips, he kissed her skin.

  She moaned as if his mouth had been somewhere far more intimate.