Air: The Elementals Book Two

by L. B. Gilbert

  Logan laughed at him, an unexpected sound of unadulterated delight. “How are you going to stop me?”

  She was gone with a sudden fresh breeze, disappearing from under his grip before he realized his mistake. The wind whipped around in the little kitchen. He tried to track her by scent, but she seemed to be everywhere.

  Shit. He had to stop giving in to the impulse to manhandle her. He couldn’t do this alone. Losing his wolf wasn’t like taking down some rogue Weres, or searching for terrorists in the desert with his old Special Forces team. There wasn’t an enemy to fight, at least not yet.

  Connell needed someone with access to magic. High-level magic. And there was no way he could trust a top-tier witch to help him. One of their kind would either waste his time or stab him in the back if it benefited them somehow. This was his best and possibly only chance.

  “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m used to working alone too,” he shouted to the empty air. “I respect that. But I still think it’s best if we travel together, so I can show you everything. It’s pack territory. You'd have to stop and make a formal request from the chief to visit in any case.”

  “And since he’s your father, you think you should be there to smooth things over?”

  Connell spun around. The imp had rematerialized behind him on the other side of the kitchen island. His sense of smell hadn’t been able to differentiate her scent from the traces she’d left in the room. She spent a lot of time here, enough to mark the place.

  Or maybe his keen sense of smell was failing now—unless Elementals were too subtle to be pinned down.

  He told himself that was what it was. It had to be some super defense mechanism against his kind. They were the Supernaturals’ police force right? It was why she knew he was the chief’s son and next in line to lead the pack.

  Connell swallowed down the defensiveness he felt and decided the truth would serve him best. “Something like that. Not to mention the fact the pack thinks you’re the enemy. We got word that those witches had been stripped just after my wolf was taken. They all think it was you or one of your kind.”

  Logan sighed. “Of course they think that. I would too if I were them. But even if that’s the case, I’d soon set them straight. If you insist on being there, you could join me once you catch up after I check your location in the woods. In my personal experience, it’s generally easier to ask for forgiveness than permission anyway. I can get there in a fraction of the time. All you have to do is tell me where to look.”

  Connell wanted to howl in frustration. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging it back, an old sign that he was nearing the end of his tether. But getting angry and exerting his dominance was not going to get him anywhere this time.

  “I would appreciate it if you stayed with me until we get my wolf back. You were almost impossible to track the first time. If you disappear on me—if something gets in your way—I’ll have to start all over. So…” He trailed off, choking on the words.

  “So what?” Logan asked, that damn eyebrow reaching for the sky.

  “So please stay with me,” he said quietly, his voice cracking on the please.

  It wasn’t a word he used very often, and it showed.

  Logan bit back another sigh. Connell was clearly frustrated. The telltale gesture of rubbing his temple with the heel of his palm was telegraphing his feelings more effectively than the scowl on his face.

  Asking for help might actually be killing him. It was certainly making the flaring red in his aura darker. He was in pain, and her refusal was making it worse.

  Crap. She was going to have to give in. But letting him tag along meant spending a lot of hours at his side.

  Logan had done a job or two that required her to keep company with another Supernatural for a while—one or two vamps and even a ditzy gremlin. But no Weres. And no one like Connell. He was just so…male.

  Suck it up. This is your job.

  “Fine.” She huffed. “But we need to move quickly. I was taking some downtime, and I have other cases waiting. We always do,” she added.

  “Is that how you refer to them? Cases?” he asked, following her as she left the room.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “It’s nothing. You sound a bit like a policeman. Policewoman. Whatever. Hard picturing you with a badge,” he said. “I thought you’d be taller too,” he muttered.

  Logan did sigh this time. Her size was a major problem in her profession. She’d give anything to be tall and statuesque like Serin or Diana. Gia was small, but she was still taller than Logan was.

  “Five-foot-two is a perfectly respectable height.” She sniffed, and Connell smiled.

  Irritated, she turned her back and marched up the stairs, calling behind her. “How did you get here? Do you need to book a flight back to Colorado?”

  His heavy footsteps followed her up the stairs. She could feel those intense green eyes on her as she threw open the door to her room and began to pack a few things in a bag. The doorframe creaked as he leaned against it.

  “We’ll be taking the pack jet.”

  “We?” Logan asked, turning to him with a frown.

  He scowled at her. “You agreed to stay with me. So we take the plane together. I know you’d rather do your Harry Potter thing and just show up at the Colorado airport, but I’d feel more comfortable if you were with me. Maybe we can brainstorm what to do next.”

  Logan wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never flown in a plane before.”

  Surprise flitted across Connell’s features before he shrugged. “It’ll be a piece of cake for you. Probably easier than playing Superman.”

  6

  A scant few hours later, Logan wanted to strangle Connell. Maybe punch, kick, or bite him. Although, she wouldn’t do the latter because she had a sneaking suspicion he’d like it. And he was having too good a time as it was.

  He was watching her now, his eyes dancing with smug amusement as she twisted and shifted uncomfortably in the small, but luxuriously appointed jet.

  She had been fine until the moment the cabin had been pressurized. Then all hell had broken loose in her head. As the plane climbed to its cruising altitude, a weight settled on her chest as an unfamiliar feeling grew in the pit of her stomach.

  With some surprise, she realized the new feeling was panic. Completely discomfited, she focused on taking deep breaths, but the more she tried to calm herself, the more her tension grew. Her skin grew clammy. The edges of her vision started to blacken. She wanted to claw the walls of the cabin until they gave, and she could reach the calm, cold air outside.

  The fact Connell was genuinely enjoying her discomfort was another nail in the coffin. Logan squeezed her eyes shut and sank deeper into the plush leather chair, hands gripping the armrest.

  She spent another few minutes with her eyes closed, trying to will herself to sleep, but it wasn’t working. Her chest felt tight, and she was breathing a little too fast, almost panting. She felt a hand on her own. She opened her eyes to see Connell watching her, unsmiling. All traces of smugness had been wiped away. Instead, his amazing green eyes were filled with genuine sympathy and concern.

  “Are you okay, Logan? Can I get you something?”

  She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut again.

  “Are you sure? I think maybe you need a drink. Do you like scotch? Or whiskey?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

  She ignored him, sitting stiffly in the chair in spite of her reclined position.

  “Logan?” Connell sounded worried now.

  His arms went around her, and her eyes flew open. “I have to get out of here,” she gasped before dematerializing and whipping around the cabin in rapid movements.

  But there was nowhere to go as long as the cabin stayed pressurized. She was trapped.

  Connell watched the wind whip around the cabin as it knocked napkins off the table to the floor with considerable force. He felt like shit for teasing Logan now, but he hadn’t expected her discomfort to escalate into a
full-blown panic attack.

  Feeling helpless, he stood, his arms out in front of him, as the wind continued to circle in the small cabin. His concern for the sprite turned into worry for himself and the pilot. If Logan didn’t calm down, she was going to depressurize the cabin and possibly take down the jet.

  The wind whipped past his head. Closing his eyes, he instinctively reached out. Not bothering to analyze the stupidity of his move, he grabbed at the gust of wind. Suddenly, Logan was there, in his arms.

  He didn’t know which one of them was more surprised as he looked down at her. For a moment, they simply stared at each other—his eyes wide and her rosy lips an O of surprise.

  “How did you—”

  He cut her off by doing what he’d wanted to do from the first moment he’d seen her dancing at that club.

  He kissed her. Hard.

  His lips crashed down on hers, taking her mouth aggressively, possessing it with a growl that came from deep inside him. Logan was too disoriented to shove him away. Instead, she lay limp in his arms, her mouth soft and pliant under his.

  Connell took advantage of his imp’s confusion to plunge his tongue into her mouth. The world narrowed down to that touch—his tongue stroking hers. She was like nothing he’d ever tasted, and he was two seconds from tearing their clothes off when she pushed him away. He didn’t make it easy; he didn’t want to let her go. But it soon became clear that he didn’t have a choice.

  He landed on the leather couch with an oomph as most of the air in his lungs was expelled by the force. That much strength in such a little body was unnatural. It was like being moved by a forklift.

  Logan was standing over him with a confused expression on her face. “Huh,” she said.

  Connell sat up straight. “What does that mean?” he asked.

  He wanted to grab her again, but the dent he just made in the couch was a good reminder not to do it again without permission. But later…she would beg for his touch. He’d make sure of it. In the meantime, he waited with uncharacteristic patience for her to answer.

  “It means huh,” she replied, sitting on the sofa opposite the one he was in and cocking her head at him.

  She was watching him as if he were a curious specimen of insect. Other than mild interest, there was no reaction to what had happened. And annoyingly, it also didn’t appear as if she wanted to do it again.

  “Okay,” he rumbled as she reached up for the nearest bottle on the bar next to her. He frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “I think I need that drink after all,” she said, pouring a large measure of his favorite twenty-year-old scotch into a glass.

  “Fine. Just don’t get drunk,” he muttered. “You don’t even look old enough to be drinking. I feel like I’m contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”

  Logan snorted at that, but she didn’t respond. He took that as a silent confirmation that she was older than she looked.

  Meanwhile, Logan downed scotch that was older than she was.

  The imp slept through the landing. She had drunk about a third of a bottle of scotch before stretching out and falling asleep. Connell couldn’t believe it. He’d gone from being worried about her to total irritation.

  He wanted to grab her tiny, sleeping body and shake it. Among other…far more illicit things. But she was passed out and sleeping like a total innocent. Judging from her body weight and the amount of alcohol she’d consumed, she was going to be out a while.

  With frustration he couldn’t bury, he shook her awake. “Mmrrph,” Logan hummed as she turned away to face the back of the couch.

  “Wake up already,” Connell growled.

  She finally opened her eyes to meet his glare. “What is it?”

  “We’re here,” he said shortly, crossing his arms and towering over her.

  “Oh, okay,” Logan murmured in a languorous voice that vibrated along his body in an unnerving fashion.

  As if it couldn’t get any worse, the imp proceeded to stretch in moves a seasoned yoga instructor would eat their own foot to achieve. Christ above, there was only so much a man could take. He breathed a sigh of relief when she stopped. Standing, she grabbed her pack and gracefully stepped to the open cabin door.

  Logan was too damn chipper as they walked through the crowded airport. She was wearing yet another tank top, a navy-blue one overlaid with a fine black mesh decorated in a baroque pattern. Black leather pants and short, steel-toed biker boots were paired with gradient shades that darkened the golden glow of her eyes.

  Given how much she’d drunk, the imp had no right to that spring in her step. She looked completely fresh and dewy, like she was about to do a photo shoot.

  “Why aren’t you hung-over?” he asked.

  “Why would I be?” she asked, her tone teasing and light.

  “Because you drank enough of my best scotch to fell a horse. And you can’t weigh more than a pony—one of those Shetland ones.”

  Logan stopped dead in her tracks, turning around to glare at him “What did you say?”

  Connell frowned. “What’s wrong?” He scowled.

  “A Shetland pony weighs four hundred pounds or more,” Logan bit back.

  “Is that right? They look so little and cute,” Connell mused aloud.

  When an apology was not forthcoming, Logan rolled her eyes and stomped away, muttering. “A Shetland pony. Way to make a woman feel sexy after you shove your tongue down her throat…”

  A normal man wouldn’t have been able to hear her. Grinning like a fool, he decided not to enlighten her of the fact that he’d retained his superior hearing.

  “So you can drink anything and not get a hangover?” Connell asked after a while as they entered the terminal, refusing to apologize.

  Ponies were cute.

  “Yes,” Logan replied, only a faint trace of smugness in her tone.

  “Seriously? Not ever?”

  “Do you get hangovers?” she countered.

  He did, but not often. He and the pack had to really tie one on before he felt the effects. Nevertheless, they were Scots by heritage, and he had woken up enough times in his teens, praying to the porcelain gods. However, he wasn’t about to admit that to her.

  “I’m a Were,” was all he said.

  “And I’m an Elemental.” She shrugged.

  Connell grunted, but he let the matter drop. Instead, his eyes wandered over Logan’s tight body as she negotiated through the crowd.

  Her grace was abnormal. Despite the number of people milling around, Logan always managed to find a path through. She stepped lightly through gaps in the crowd without ever touching anyone. It was almost like a dance, the way the wind found its way through space around objects.

  People didn’t bump into him either, but not for the same reason. Strangers took one look at his massive frame and the expression on his face, and they quickly got out of the way.

  At first, he let Logan get ahead of him—until he noticed the looks other men were giving the sprite. Suppressing a growl, he moved behind her as they headed to the exit. He walked close, shooting black looks at every man who glanced Logan’s way until their wandering eyes skittered away from her.

  They were almost out of the airport when Logan stopped short in front of him, causing Connell to crash into her back.

  It should have been enough to send her flying, but it was like hitting a concrete wall—or a reinforced concrete beam. The average unreinforced wall would have given way when hit with a two-hundred-and-seventy-pound werewolf. But Logan didn’t even budge. Instead, she arched her back to give him an annoyed frown before turning away again.

  Amused despite himself, Connell didn’t acknowledge his clumsiness, nor did he back away from her to give her some space. He stayed pressed against her, tempted to sling an arm around her and usher her into the nearest bed. However, it was clear her attention was elsewhere. When he followed her gaze, his body instantly tightened in anger and challenge. Logan was looking at another man.

  The enemy
was young and blond with thick, wavy hair and glasses that gave him the appealing air of a scholar. When Logan continued to study the stranger, the impulse to walk over and pound the smaller man into the ground grew stronger. Was it an ex-boyfriend? It had better not be a current one.

  If his mate didn’t stop checking out another man, he was going to have to put her over his knee.

  Connell froze. Fuck. Was it possible? He’d been wrong about Riley. Disastrously so. But this…this felt right. He humphed. An Elemental for a mate?

  But how could he be sure when he didn’t have his wolf? A Were could choose a woman, only to find out later that the wolf did not accept her. Both the man and the wolf had to agree. If the wolf chose first, the man’s heart inevitably followed. But it didn’t always work when the order was reversed.

  If the wolf did not approve of the woman, there was little the man could do except give her up. And that could get very ugly. He’d seen that with his own eyes. And how could he know if the wolf would agree that Logan was his mate when it was gone?

  No. He must be wrong. His lust was doing the talking. Everything in his body was going haywire, including his judgment. For Christ’s sake, he wanted to get into an Elemental’s pants. If that wasn’t proof of his insanity, then nothing was.

  Watching Logan’s eyes follow the other man, he decided he didn’t care if she was his mate or not. While he was with her, he wanted her attention on him. Complete and undivided.

  But Logan had other ideas. She continued to stare at the other man as if he was the most fascinating thing on God’s green earth. Connell’s growl was a low rumble in his chest. Any second now, his control was going to snap, and he was going to find himself beating the other man into a bloody heap.

  “Who is that? Do you know that guy?” He didn’t bother to hide the jealousy in his voice.

  “No,” Logan said, still too distracted to look at him.

  Connell growled audibly. “So why are you looking at him?”

  “Because I have to follow him,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Can you pick a place for me to meet you later?”