Static scratched across the phone connection.
“How far are you from the cabin?”
“Ten minutes…or take…”
Shit.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Follow her scent. I want to know where she is.”
Because something warned him, that if he lost her this time, he might never get her back.
Damn it! He ended the call and tried to dial Charles’ number. His truck hit a pothole almost slamming him into a rock the size of his pickup.
He swerved and kept going. If only he’d had his pager off. If he’d just waited. If she’d just waited he would have gone with her.
The worry he’d had all morning that something was trying to draw him away from Reya wouldn’t go away.
He had to find her.
Finally he hit SEND and waited while the call went through.
“Horizon’s Gallery.”
“Charles. Something’s happened.”
He swerved onto the highway, barely missing a semi in the other lane. Heading south on Highway 285. Damn. He checked his watch. It would be hours before he got there!
“What?” Charles asked.
“Reya…I….”
“I knew she shouldn’t have gone alone. Do you want me to call the others? The Council?”
“We haven’t gone before The Council yet.”
Charles tsked. “They know you claim her. If you say she claimed you and you’ve got a witness, then it’s good enough by Pride Law. You know that.”
“There’s no witness.”
“Oh ye of little faith. The woman was always chatty around me.”
With that, the man hung up and Lo tried to think. Tried to reason. Tried to reach her.
Instead all he saw was blackness.
Nybras.
Who the hell was Nybras?
He quickly called Charles back and asked him to look up everything he could find on Nybras.
“Nybras as in an unknown person? Or as in the demon?”
Lorenzo slammed on the brakes at a stop sign out in the middle of nowhere.
“Demon? What the hell do you mean a demon?”
“Demon, Lo, as in blazing fires of hell, fiends, evil and vile creatures, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.”
A demon? “Find out everything you can on anything with the word Nybras in it. I’m assuming it’s a person since every time she’s thought of it-him there were aqua eyes.”
“Hmmm… Male or female?” Charles asked.
“Male,” he answered without hesitating. He’d even known that this morning when all he’d seen of Reya’s fear was the pair of eyes. They were male.
“Considering what I find, I may call others to meet you at this little locale out in BFE.” Charles hung up again.
Lo sat at the cross roads, no one in any direction. He closed his eyes and concentrated, tried to see, to feel her.
A chill froze the ice in his veins. He couldn’t feel her.
His hands shook as he slammed the gear shift into first, tires squalling as he drove on.
Please, please, please keep her safe.
* * * *
Nybras lifted her against him, smiling as he shed the glamour, the image falling away from his true form.
Leaning close, he smelled her, still the same, sweet, yet faint. Not a floral scent, not a citrus or spice. In all the years since her, he’d never been able to recreate her scent.
He closed his eyes, and strode out into the open. Dust rose in the distance down the long road to the house. Someone was coming, were they?
His laughter danced on the air. He held her tight, chanted the words he’d known for millenniums. Dust and clouds whirled down, hot and fierce throwing up bushes and clods of dirt. Inside, he willed the wind tunnel to stay off the ground. The last thing he needed was anyone tracking them. He could have driven, but this was much quicker.
The air whirled and hissed around him. Shrieks from winged fiends screamed through the whirl wind. Still he kept chanting.
Reyanna—Precious, never moved. Never stirred. In seconds, the wind was gone. Here, miles away, near Pueblo Pintado he was near the ancient ruins. An old ranch house was his destination. The barn to the side where he wanted to go. The wind died down, the heat he’d conjured blasting sand in every direction. Almost noon, but the clouds he’d called forth were still heavy and dark in the sky.
Nearly there. Just a bit further.
Another wind hit him full in the back, nearly bringing him to his knees. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering where the hell that came from. He hadn’t called that gust.
He listened as it again rushed over the barren land, rustling the dirt and sage before it. Then it slammed into him, cold and biting, this time knocking him down. He could have sworn he heard chanting on the howl of the breeze.
Instead, he stood, called forth his own wind hot and scorching from the south as his father’s people were known.
Nybras made it to the barn doors. Inside, nothing moved. He’d called forth a protection on it so that it wasn’t seen, thus could not be tampered with.
He strode across the way, past the old stalls, tack and tools rusted and corroding on the walls. The smell of decaying hay molded the air. He shifted her so that she stood leaning against him. He reached out and yanked on the rope that hung suspended on a pulley from one of the overhead beams.
A floorboard, complete with attached dirt and hay rose. The dark pit beneath was cool, the slight breeze brushing across his face. Nybras slung Precious over his shoulder and jumped down ten feet. The light came on as he snapped his fingers. He’d tried not to use magic blatantly in the past few years. Things like that were noticed. But here, down in the depths of the earth, no one could see.
Dim lights flooded the dirt, beamed passage way to a metal door at the end.
He unlocked the door and walked into the clean entrance. He smiled and breathed deep, the metal door hissing shut behind him. From this side, it appeared the back of a door she’d know well.
He carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. Her breathing was deep, peaceful.
“It’s been so long, Precious,” he whispered, leaning over to brush a kiss on her forehead.
He wanted her naked, wanted to see her again, see in reality that which had haunted his dreams for over two hundred years. No other woman had ever had the hold on him that Precious had.
Her eyelids were soft, her lashes long and slightly curled. Her cheeks were still hallowed just below her cheekbones. He caressed her face, ran his hand down her neck. The way she laid, he could see something bulging on her chest.
He frowned.
Nybras walked to the dresser, and picked up the dagger he’d set there earlier. Most of the room was replicated, but some things he’d already put in here were his. He figured it would be fun to watch her wonder…watch the confusion slowly give way to memory…and then? Who knew.
He’d never been excessively cruel to her, but she’d grown to fear him. They’d have to talk about that.
Nybras stood by the edge of the bed, staring down at her. Perhaps he wouldn’t need the dagger.
He set it aside and quickly stripped the shirt from her. Her breasts were hidden from him in the modern contraptions women wore—bras. Whoever invented them hopefully died a slow and painful death. Women were meant to be appreciated, their beauty worshiped.
The lace edge tickled along his finger as he grazed the swell of her breast. He grabbed the dagger and sliced the wine material and lace right in the middle. That would just have to go. She would not be wearing that. Her stomach was as perfect as he remembered, slightly dipping, then slightly rising just below her navel. He ran his hand over her, fingers splayed and remembered her remark.
Pregnant.
Rage fired through him, flexing his fingers on her lower abdomen just above the low rising jeans and simple leather belt.
So easy…
All he’d have to do is chant a few words. He rubbed her belly in soft
counter circles. Or he could feed her some herbs in a drink or food. He kept his palm flat on her, stretching his fingers straight out so they didn’t touch her. His claws slowly grew. Or he could do something a bit more drastic.
He looked up at her sleeping face, no longer smiling, the euphoria gone.
But then…
She needed to be punished. What would be worse, he wondered? To take her children now? Or to let her keep them, let her bear them, then…then take them away and raise them under his tutelage?
Then again, that was months away. Who knew, he had plenty of time to decide. If they were his, he’d be ecstatic. However, a curse placed on him before he could remember prohibited him from having children. He’d tried every way imaginable to break the curse, but it was no use.
Shaking off the thoughts, he unbuckled her belt, unbuttoned her jeans and rolled them down her long, lithe legs, removing her half boots and socks. He didn’t like her underwear either, though they were enticing. He fisted his hand in them and ripped them from her pliant body.
Now she was completely bare to him.
Except for the dirty leather pouch around her neck. Bead work created a wheel with a cross inside. He’d seen the design enough to know it was a medicine wheel. Some of the beadwork was frayed, several beads missing.
Well, that would just have to go. It ruined her image.
As soon as he placed his hand on it, he dropped the bag cursing. Holding his hand, he looked at the scalded palm. There in the center was the broken design of the beadwork branded into his hand.
Anger rose hot and fast in him. Damn woman.
He tried again, chanting words to release whatever protection was on it. Yet when he touched it, he was again branded.
Grabbing the dagger, he tried to cut the leather from around her neck. Smoke rose from the blade, the point where it met the leather thong, getting hotter, black, then red until one point on the blade glowed.
He sat back panting. His gaze flew to her left hand. A ring sat on her third finger.
“You are mine. No other will mark you.” Nybras grabbed her hand and tried to pull the ring off. Again the design was burned into his fingers. All but hissing, he rose, his chest panting. It was then he saw the markings on her left breast.
Claimed.
She was claimed.
Damn it! He was supposed to have gotten to her before that happened, captured her before her re-claiming. Made certain she kept putting off going to The Council by filling her head with doubts about binding herself with a man who betrayed her once.
Yet here she lay with the other man’s markings on her. And a half-breed at that. Not a god, like him, not one descended of a powerful feared race. But of a cat. A damn werecat!
His mobile rang. He jerked it out, and all but snarled, “What?”
Selinna’s voice slithered through the phone. “I thought you should know, Lorenzo left a bit ago, driving so fast, one of the officers here thought about giving him a ticket.”
He closed his eyes, and breathed deep. “You did what I asked you to?”
“Why do you think the man was out here to begin with?”
“Where are you now?”
She chuckled. “Well, there’s another body they won’t find, yet the woman was needed lest she be missed. I think I played her part here today wonderfully picking up little odds and ends off of the ground.”
He had no idea what she was talking about.
“Get back to the house as soon as you can.”
She sighed. “What the hell do you want now?”
He thought for a moment. She’d fucked it up last year. “To pay you.”
“ ‘bout damn time.” With that the connection was broken.
Staring down at the woman of his love, he decided to shove his anger away. It didn’t offer him anything at the present. He’d use it against her later. For now?
He strode to the bathroom, filled the bowl with warm water, laid a towel over his shoulder, grabbed the cream he’d brought from his homelands of ancient Persia, and a cloth.
Her legs were relaxed as he spread them and climbed on the bed between. He lifted her hips and laid the towel beneath.
The cream was tingling and warm between his palms as he rubbed it in his hands. Already the burns of earlier were gone.
As he slathered her groin with the cream, he wondered what power protected her. Who was strong enough that he’d yet to break their spells of protection?
He waited until he knew it was time, and then slowly wiped the cream and pubic hair away until she was completely bare.
Her skin was soft as he remembered beneath his fingers.
He’d always liked her bare. She knew that.
Again his gaze landed on the medicine bag and the ring. Could she take them off herself?
Nybras cleaned the rest of the cream off, breathed deep and felt himself harden even more than he already was.
She was so damn perfect. So…so….
He let his fingers graze her again, glad she wasn’t tied down.
He’d have to break her again, he knew that. There was nothing wrong with enjoying her while she lay quiet and accepting to his touches.
No. No. It was all about lessons. She’d run, tried to kill him. He had to remind her who she belonged to.
The air filling his lungs was heavy with her scent so he stood, ripped the towel from beneath her and gathered together his things. Quickly he cleaned up the bathroom. She’d be awake in a little while. He would watch her.
Back in the bedroom, he covered her with the quilt, and then placed the necklace he’d shown her before she’d passed out inside the dresser draw. She’d find it, and when she did, she would know where she really was, not where she hoped to be.
Smiling, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you’re home, Precious. I’ve missed you.”
Nybras strode from the room. Made certain all the cameras were working—after all, he hardly wanted to miss a single moment—then climbed back up into the barn. Making certain everything was as it should be, he entered the ranch house to wait.
There were, after all, a few loose ends to tie up.
The wall of electronics flickered to life and he watched her sleep.
“Not long now, Precious. Not long now.”
Chapter Seven
Lorenzo drove like a man possessed, but it still took him almost three hours to get there. When he drove up, Marcos, tall and lanky was chewing on a toothpick leaning back against his black Jeep. Her Grand Jeep Cherokee sat parked at an angle before the house.
He didn’t even let the truck come to a full stop before he shoved it into park and jumped from his vehicle.
“Where is she?” he asked. Chills danced again over his skin, prickling his arms.
Marcos’ eyes were hidden behind shades, his hair pulled tightly back from his face. “Don’t know.”
“What?” Lorenzo roared, fisting his hands into Marcos’ black shirt.
Marcos, Spanish by his father, Kiowa by his mother, didn’t flinch. His long face didn’t move. Instead, his calm voice said, “I felt the evil before I got here. The dark clouds were practically touching the ground. Then a funnel came down. It went south, towards the canyon. I tried to follow, no scent, but a trace of energy hung in the air. Or it did until the wind picked up and then…” He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” He searched Marcos’ expression, his fists loosening.
Marcos reached up and removed his shades, his black eyes crinkled at the edges. “No, Lorenzo, nothing. The trace of energy was heavy, dark, but then,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothing. Wind came in, and it was like she just disappeared.”
Lorenzo’s hands slid from Marcos’ shirt. Where the hell was she?
Again he tried to reach out to her.
Where are you? Reya? Reya! Answer me, damn it!
Lorenzo searched and searched, but all he felt was blackness, cold blackness smoked with elusive fear.
Nothing. Not
a damn thing.
“Did you follow them?” he asked Marcos
Marcos nodded. “For about ten minutes, then it got so dark I couldn’t see, the wind blew like a sonofabitch for a few minutes and then everything cleared off. Nothing, nada. I’m sorry.”
Lorenzo didn’t give into the urge strangling him. He wanted to rip Marcos apart. “You’re orders were to follow them.”
He felt a ripple of power from Marcos. “I know what my damn orders were, but we can only do what we can. I couldn’t see, then they were just gone. I traced the traces of evil to Pueblo Pintado. But then I lost it.”
Damn it!
“We’ll find her.”
He stared at the man in front of him. Marcos, as a human, worked in shady places that today’s laws would disapprove of. Not that Lorenzo cared either way.
“You better pray we do. You’re hide will be the first I have.”
Marcos only raised one brow. “You’re welcome to try. I contacted several I know to help us.”
The wind was normal, a slight breeze, cool from the north. On the far horizon he could see the bank of dark blue clouds. Northern coming in. Probably snow as well.
Fear licked hot through him, flaming the anger. “I don’t recall giving you that order.”
Marcos carefully pulled his shades off. “I don’t recall asking for it. But the fact remains that whatever the hell took your woman—“
“She’s my mate,” he interrupted.
Marcos raised his brow again. “Did you both finally go before The Council?’
“I claimed her, marked her.”
Marcos stared a moment more. “She agree?”
He frowned and focused on the muscular man he knew many women dreamed about. “Excuse me?”
“Just curious. You know the rules.”
“If you’re wondering if I forced her, no. God’s sake, she’s my damn wife. She agreed.”
Marcos snorted. “That’s where you and I differ, my friend. I’d have simply forced her hand, then claimed her, forget asking her.”
Instead of continuing this conversation, he turned and walked to the old house. Marcos was right. There was a feel, not a cold breath as many evils he’d come across. Not like Sael. Sael had been cold. Most were cold. This evil was hot, prickling his skin as if he’d stood beside a blazing fire for too long. There were very few times he ever came across a feel of darkness like this. What the hell?
Shifter Fated Mates: Boxed Set Page 22