by Jenna Kernan
There had been no other sightings in the United States, Canada or Mexico until word of the group outside Calgary.
When they left the road, Samantha roused from slumber. She asked few questions, but he provided what assurance he could. They would eat, sleep and continue tomorrow morning. The ride was another eighteen hours yet, and he had to rest.
They paused at the high wrought-iron gate as he entered the security code. The house came into sight as they crested the hill. Bathed in moonlight, the glass and steel construction glinted and winked. The structure most resembled some modern sculptured cubes sitting in a mowed meadow. The isolated house seemed as out of place in this clearing as he was. The fenced perimeter and security system assisted in his need for privacy, though they would not deter ghosts.
Only the lawn crew and his human housekeeper entered this sanctuary. His housekeeper kept the place in order and the kitchen stocked with the peculiar foodstuffs he requested. He and Aldara preferred rare meat, and the large freezer in the garage kept them fed.
He recalled finding two of the Delta twins in this area and felt sad all over again. The anger followed on its heels, and he realized he wanted a chance to settle with his sire for all the pain he caused.
If not for the Ruler of Ghosts, the Deltas would be alive, Samantha would be with her family and Alon would not have had to kill his own kin. If not for the ambitions of Nagi, Alon and all his siblings would never be here to infest this lovely world like some new and deadly plague.
Everything began and ended with Nagi.
Alon ushered Samantha in, saw her fed and showed her about the place. It wasn’t much, just two bedrooms upstairs with an adjoining bath. Downstairs had everything one would expect, except the touches that made a house a home. She stood at the sliding doors, looking out at the woods behind the house glowing blue in the moonlight.
“I’ve never seen a ghost here,” he said.
She slipped out to the deck and he followed, standing beside her as she gazed up at the night sky.
“Beautiful,” she sighed.
He made a sound of concurrence and stretched his neck to stare at the heavens.
“I tried to follow my mother to the Way of Souls once.” He lifted his hand and pointed at the Milky Way. “I watched her disappear through the veil, but I couldn’t find the way.”
“You’re not a raven. We only get to travel that road once.”
“Some of us not even once.”
Her attention shifted, meeting his troubled gaze.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m born of the Ruler of Ghosts. Where do you suppose I will go when I pass from this living world?”
She never considered it. “I don’t know.”
He expelled a long breath. “Neither do I.”
She did not try to reassure or change the subject to something more pleasant. He appreciated that.
“None of us know that, Alon. It’s why we must walk the Red Road while we live.”
That wasn’t what he meant. He was not speaking of living an upright life so he could one day reach the Spirit World. If it were only so simple.
He felt the urge to tell her what he believed. That it would make no difference what he did because his lineage would bar him from entrance to the Spirit World. But when he looked down into her sweet face and saw the earnestness of her expression, he could not do it. He forced a smile and she returned it.
Something shimmered between them. He glanced away, checking to be certain it was no ghost.
“What was that?”
“You saw it?” She smiled up at him. “It’s our auras. Sometimes they are bright enough for anyone to see.”
“I can’t see it now.”
“I can. Yours is silver. Mine is mostly violet with some deep blue, gold and brown. A Niyanoka’s aura is capped with gold, and all Skinwalkers have some brown. It’s how the Niyanoka can so easily spot us.”
“But you are also Niyanoka.”
“Yes, both and neither.”
It was the first time he thought to consider that she was a mix of two races. How much more difficult must that be for her?
Samantha turned away so that her back now rested on the rail. He gripped the wooden banister to squash the urge to reach for her and felt his fingers sink into the hard wood.
“Is that a hot tub?” she asked.
It was. Suddenly Alon’s mind was not full of the threat of ghosts but the threat of seeing Samantha naked in that hot, pulsing water.
He invited her to use the Jacuzzi before bed. She hesitated, glancing toward him in silence. Did she think he meant to use this as some opportunity to seduce her?
The notion sent a hot, tingling wave of desire. It was what he wanted to do. But he couldn’t. There were so many reasons why he couldn’t. Not the least of which was his conviction never to bring another of his kind to this world. They didn’t belong here, and he would not bring one more unwanted Halfling into this joyless existence.
But oh, how he wanted Samantha.
Her look was inscrutable. Did she want him to make some advance, or did she hesitate out of fear he might do so.
He recalled her drawing away from him in the truck and felt he had the answer. But she had slept on his lap like a beloved pet.
How could he even dream that someone as lovely, powerful and necessary as this Seer of Souls could ever want a misshapen monstrosity such as him?
She couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Didn’t.
“I need to scout for any threat. I’ll be gone at least an hour.”
The urge to touch her gripped him. He told himself to step away and found himself stepping closer.
“I want to kiss you,” he said.
He’d given her fair warning. Why didn’t she run away or tell him no? And then he saw it, the slight turning of her head. Oh no, he thought, and ceased his advance.
But she wasn’t shaking her head, he realized. She was gazing up as if there were something between them, something he could not see. Their auras again? he wondered. Did they beat between them with the urgent desire that grew like a living thing? He wished he could see them.
Finally her gaze met his and she took a step forward, looping her arms about his neck.
He thought of the day they met. How his need for her had brought on the change, bringing forth that feral monster locked inside him. What if he changed again?
He could feel her heat, sense the opening of the tiny capillaries in her skin. Her scent filled the air. He breathed in her fragrance, summer flowers mixed with Samantha’s rising arousal.
He did this to her. A terrible realization hit. It wasn’t really him. It was this last form, this mask that drew her. He was the orchid luring the moth, fooling it into seeing a kindred species instead of the lie.
She pressed her body to his and suddenly he was lost. Lost in her scent. Lost in his need. Lost in the glittering desire of her dark eyes.
He rubbed his muscular chest against the soft cushion of her breasts. She sucked in a breath, closing her eyes as her head dropped back, exposing her neck to him. Need now beat within him, pulsing with his heart. He didn’t care if he deceived her, if only she would let him hold her a moment longer.
Her sweet breath fanned hot across his cheek as he leaned in to take what she offered.
He dipped his head. She turned away and he captured her earlobe between his teeth, sucking the soft, sensitive nub of flesh, and was rewarded by the sound of her satisfaction rumbling deep in her throat.
His tongue traced the shell of her ear and then darted inside. She arched against him and he slid his hand beneath the hem of her shirt and jacket, sliding upward over her taut skin, feeling the changing contours of her back and torso until his fingers splayed over the mound of one of her breasts. He rolled his palm in a circular motion, bringing a moan of pleasure from her throat. At his touch, her nipples tightened and she leaned forward, pressing one soft breast more firmly into his palm.
Samantha lifted her free hand,
threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged. Soft little pants urged him on, and he walked her backward until she reached the hot tub, covered now with a soft, padded top. The odor of chlorine rose to greet them as he stretched her out on that cushion. His mouth found hers. Her lips parted as she gave him access. Her hot tongue darted against his. He growled as he forced one knee between her thighs, nudging her legs apart, making room for himself.
And then her clothing was gone. Alon paused in astonishment. She had removed every barrier that separated them. He wanted to howl in triumph, tear his own clothing to ribbons and thrust inside her. Bury himself deep.
He fumbled with the fastening of his trousers, freeing himself from the confinement. Samantha’s hand encircled him, her cool fingers dancing over his engorged flesh. The flames of need consumed him.
He pressed forward, sliding his erection along the wet folds of her cleft. Just another moment and she would be his.
She was ready and willing to accept him. Because she didn’t remember what he was.
He drew back, positioning himself to take her. But he wanted to see her expression, look into her eyes when he thrust home. Alon lifted his head and gazed down at Samantha’s lovely face.
Her skin shown pale as starlight and she blinked up at him in a daze, drunk from the passion they shared. She writhed her hips beneath him, eager for what they would share, and he could see clearly for one moment that she had also lost her mind.
Whatever this was between them was strong enough to make him forget everything he ever wanted or ever believed. Strong enough to make Samantha surrender herself to the likes of him. Strong enough to kill them both.
She lay naked and vulnerable, eager for the death he would bring.
It was enough to snap him to his senses. He drew away. She clung. He pulled her arms away from his neck and staggered back, drawing up his trousers. She propped herself up on both elbows.
“Alon?” The note of concern hit him hard. He didn’t mean to hurt her pride, but taking her might hurt her in other ways.
She was breathing in short little pants. Her brow knit and he saw the shame first. A moment later the realization struck. She covered her mouth with one hand and her breasts with the other.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He’d never keep her. Not when just one night together might be enough to tear her from him forever.
A cold panic washed down his body.
No female was strong enough to bring his kind into this world. He had wanted her to feel only pleasure. Instead he had nearly brought her death.
Samantha was like a gemstone, sparkling with hope and promise. He couldn’t resist bringing her into his dark world. But she didn’t belong with him. No one did.
He hated his weakness for her. Hated what he was. Hated his father for what he did to his mother.
“Alon, please.” Her gentle touch spoke of yearning. He could almost feel the pulse of her desire. She made it so difficult to stop himself.
“No, Samantha. No. Never. We can’t.” And then he told her. He spoke of his greatest shame. Of how his kind was born, in blood and death. All their mothers dead. All. The pain and the guilt tore through him like a knife blade, and the words poured from him like seawater from a drowning man.
Samantha stared in horror.
“It’s why I never took a woman. Never will take one. I couldn’t bear it. You have to remember my words.”
“But they were human, your mothers. I’m not human.”
“It will make no difference.”
“How do you know?”
He raised his voice. “I won’t gamble with your life.” She reached for him and he drew back. She wasn’t thinking and neither was he. To protect her, he needed to go.
She stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes. So tempted. His control frayed.
Alon shifted so quickly some of his clothing tangled with his swirling form, flying out and away before falling back to earth. He needed to get as far from her as possible for his sake as well as hers.
* * *
Samantha lay on her back on the padded hot tub cover bereft of his wonderful heat as the overwhelming need beat insistently in her. She was so crazed by need that she tried to follow him. It was not until she discovered herself standing in the dewy grass, naked and alone, that her blood cooled enough for her to recognize what she had almost done.
She staggered and then dropped to one knee to keep from falling. It seemed the earth heaved beneath her and she clung, digging both hands into the soft tufts of grass to anchor herself.
Was he right?
She was a Skinwalker and a damned strong one. And she was a powerful healer. Was it arrogance to think that what befell his mother would not happen to her, or was it the need speaking?
Samantha toppled, falling to the grass, squeezing her eyes shut as her mind and body battled. Her desire roared, pulsed, demanded. Her thoughts raced, stumbled and swayed.
Hadn’t she seen their auras leap and dance, rising like twin flares against the night sky? Even Alon had seen them. And she knew that her parents’ auras danced in that same way. She also knew what this might mean.
Soul mates.
No. That was not possible. Alon was a Toe Tagger, the child of her enemy. What would her family say if she were to bring home a Ghost Child?
She wrapped her arms about her knees and stifled a sob. She didn’t want to bring him home. She only wanted to sleep with him. Just to feel him inside her. That might douse this unmanageable need. If it was just some lust that roared between them then a single coupling might satisfy their desires. Why wouldn’t he take her—just once?
Perhaps if she explained. But what if she was wrong? What if the connection ran deeper? What if she couldn’t manage it? What if she was never rid of this wanting? The hairs on her head rose up and she shivered with dread.
He was like Pandora’s box, enticing but dangerous, and once opened there would be no easy way to shut that lid. She sensed it in the same place that urged her on against all reason. She should be grateful one of them showed some sense.
But she wasn’t grateful. She was cold and covered with dew and shamed by her need.
Worse than that, she respected him. He did the honorable thing. He had taken her in even knowing what some of her people were doing to his, and he had kept her safe. He was a magnificent fighter.
Samantha pressed her forehead to her knees. She rocked back and forth at the horror of her thoughts.
What if Alon was truly her soul mate?
She wouldn’t tell him. He couldn’t see the aura. She’d just pretend it was a mistake. Well, wasn’t it? Yes, the worst mistake she had ever made. Rivaled only by her stupidly removing that evil ghost from that little boy. This mistake, at least, did not endanger her family.
But it threatened everything she ever believed was true.
How often had she dreamed of finding her soul mate? But never in her wildest imaginings was he a fearsome Ghostling who could steal her soul as easily as kiss her.
Samantha pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, but still the images of Alon hungry and wanting flashed before her.
Even without him here, even without that electric attraction that came with each touch, she still wanted him.
Gradually she became aware of the breeze cooling her skin and the damp ground drawing away her heat. She dragged herself up and dragged off the Jacuzzi cover. Sinking down in the hot water and warm jets relaxed her tense muscles but left her skin smelling of chlorine.
She headed toward the house.
By the time Samantha showered and found a suitable bed in the upstairs of Alon’s home, she had nearly convinced herself that the flare of auras she had seen was nothing more than a roaring physical attraction manifested in a blaze of light. She burned hot for him, and that she could not deny. But that was all it was.
With that settled in her mind, she crawled beneath the covers. Tomorrow she must convince Bess Suncatcher to bring her children into the battle against Nag
i.
Her dad said that Bess was fierce and opinionated. Would she be willing to endanger her children to protect the Balance?
Chapter 11
Alon had made a full search of the perimeter, flying low through the pines and finding nothing but the expected game in the woods. A few elk and one less mule deer now that he had eaten. With his belly full and his patrol ended, he returned to the house.
The need to see her beat inside him like a drum. Letting her out of his sight was harder than he expected. The urge to protect her grew stronger by the minute. It made no sense to him. It didn’t seem to matter that she loathed his kind or that she belonged to a race of sneaky child killers. He billowed in disgust. She mixed him all up inside. All he knew for certain was that sleeping with her would make everything worse.
In the blackest, longest part of the night, Alon flew around the exterior searching for ghosts.
He hovered before Samantha’s second-story window. None of the windows in this place had curtains. There was no need for there was nothing to look through the windows to see until now.
She had left hers open to the night and lay in a tangle of bedding, her dark hair fanning the white cotton sheets. Now he knew how thick and silky her hair was and how soft and warm her skin was and how absolutely perfectly she fit against his body.
Alon billowed through the window, under her locked door and down the hall to his own room. Once there he transformed to his final form, the one that so aroused Samantha. The one that was a lie.
He lay in bed naked, knowing he must sleep but not knowing how to put his need for her out of his mind when she was within his grasp.
Samantha had wanted him. He’d made that happen and could do it again. He could make her forget what he was, at least temporarily.
He’d been willing to let her pretend that he was a handsome lover there to meet her every need, instead of a harbinger of death.
Perhaps that was where the name Toe Tagger came from, for certainly none who lay with one avoided a toe tag. Alon rolled to his side and thumped the pillow. Yet he still wanted to have sex with Samantha. That only made him more of a monster.