by Zoe Forward
She glanced at her arm. “Looks like the injury is superficial. What’s wrong with your eyes?”
He scowled, but didn’t reply. A black bandana appeared from one of his vest pockets, which he wound around her arm to stanch its oozing. Thoughtful and efficient. He lifted her within his left arm, while he used his right to disarticulate the chair. The effort cost him little more than a slight flexing of his arm muscles. The zip ties fell uselessly from her ankles and wrist. Pulling her against his chest, he stood.
She rested her head against his shoulder, overwhelmed by an acute sense of security at being pressed against his hard pecs. Don’t forget that massacre, the rational side of her brain prodded. But this just seemed…right. Oh God, was she one of those girls that fell for the dangerous bad boy?
She whispered, “Thanks for coming.”
“Did you doubt I would?”
At least two hard objects she guessed were weapons poked at her side from beneath his coat. He shifted her subtly to alleviate their pressure. With the small movement, the burning ache of an injury to his lower abdomen tore into her. Before she could comment, another magus appeared.
Ashor whipped around. A growl emerged from his throat as his body tensed. She expected him to put her down in prep for battle, but was surprised when he withdrew a gigantic, black-bladed, curved sword smoothly from a sheath at his back with his right hand, while gripping her tightly against his chest with his left.
Kira glanced at the new guy who was equally as tall and beautiful as Ashor with an uncompromising physique. It was the snakebite victim. Ethan. A tie at the back of his neck neatly confined his dark brown hair. Hard gray eyes glittered with a warrior’s alertness in his tanned face. Like Ashor, he had a small amount of the black sludge moving in his irises, something she hadn’t noticed the other day.
Surprise and then fear crossed Ethan’s face. “It’s Ethan. I’m on your team. Stand down.” He glanced at the carnage on the floor. “Damn, Ashor.”
Ashor sheathed his sword.
Ethan gazed at Kira for a few seconds and then broke in a grin. “I’m sorry about the great legs comment yesterday. That viper poison had somewhat of a sedative effect or something.” His voice trailed off into silence when his gaze met Ashor’s.
“Why the hell were you staring at her legs?” Ashor gritted out.
“She had on this skirt and I was on the floor. I didn’t see up the skirt or anything just…never mind. She staying with us now?” He looked hopeful.
Something passed between Ashor and Ethan she couldn’t interpret.
Ethan raised his eyebrows in obvious surprise, but stayed mute.
Ashor asked, “Did Javen arrive?”
“Not yet, sir, but I expect him soon.”
As they descended the stairs, another imposing figure appeared. Definitely a magus. Three diagonal, half-inch wide tats over scars ran from his forehead to chin. Each inking was composed of intricate Arabic-type writing or…she squinted to make out the writing. They were mini-hieroglyphics. Another remarkable, dark blue, intricately woven tattoo navigated high around his entire neck. The effect was spine-chilling. If you took away the tats and gave him a haircut to control the dark, wavy hair, the guy would be hands-down gorgeous as she was discovering they all were.
The cold look on his unsmiling face didn’t waver when his eyes met hers. This guy was dangerous.
His ancient, black eyes connected with hers for no more than a second. Within their depths was no judgment or malevolence, only mild curiosity. A potent power passed and, gently, probed through her mind. As quickly as she detected it, it vanished.
The new magus ignored her to address Ashor in a clipped English accent, “Did I miss some good action?”
“Not really,” Ashor replied.
“Here’s your new phone.”
Ashor grabbed it without letting go of Kira.
“Thanks, Javen. Take Ethan and Christian in your car,” Ashor ordered.
“Sure,” he nodded.
Ethan gave Ashor one last curious look and then grinned.
Chapter Fourteen
“Terek, it’s Mahmud. They’re here on Long Island. Magi…Shit, Shaitan is here. I thought you said they were taken care of. How’d he find us?”
“You dare snap at me over another one of your failures?”
“No, sir. I, uh…shit. So sorry, sir.”
Terek gripped the cell phone so tight that he felt the plastic crack. How he despised the magus that had escaped him. The bastard kept killing recruits and now he’d screwed things up in New York. Shaitan. He rolled his eyes. “I forbade all of you from using that ridiculous nickname for him. Did you get the amulet?”
“No, but we have Markus Langford, and he had a girl with him that I was about to interrogate. I think they hid the amulet somewhere.”
“You have a name for this girl?”
“Yeah, it’s Kira something.”
“Kira Hardy?”
“Don’t know her last name.”
“You have this woman still in your possession and alive?”
Mahmud’s side of the call remained silent for several seconds. “She’s still here.”
“Do you or do you not have her?” I’m going to rip out Mahmud’s heart. He closed his eyes and force-relaxed his grip on the phone. Patience.
“Shaitan…er, that magus came for her. I’m watching the guy get in his car with her right now. But I can get her back. There’s just one of him, right?”
Probably not. Not when it concerned the akhrian. “Get her back. When you reacquire her, don’t do anything to her. Bring her to me. Immediately. This is of the utmost importance.”
“What about the amulet, sir?”
“Have one of your men get the information from Markus. I want you to personally transport the girl to me.” Terek hung up.
****
Ashor deposited Kira in the passenger seat of the SUV. No discussion. No explanation as he threw his sheathed long-blade in the back seat and slid behind the wheel.
Oddly, she felt bereft at the loss of contact with the security of his body.
With a screech, he maneuvered the SUV into traffic. Her reflection in the side mirror showed a battered, bloody woman she barely recognized. Could she possibly look worse? Hastily she swiped at the blood beneath her nose and on her cheeks, but resorted to picking when it didn’t come off easily. Purple darkened her left cheekbone. With a shrug, she gave up all aspirations of improvement.
Her bandana-wrapped wrist ached. Too bad she wasn’t able to use the healing power on herself.
She rested her head against the seatback. Shouldn’t one of them say something to end the silence? She turned his way, prepared to throw an icebreaker, but her bravado died. Her gaze shot back to the road ahead. This guy had just killed four men in cold blood in seconds without even getting out of breath. That maniacal laugh as he’d sliced the snake-tattooed guy had been utterly insane. That being was not the guy who now drove with such calm focus. Also not the guy who wrapped her arm. And definitively not the blazing hot, insatiable, fantasy lover. Who was he? Was she even safe with him in the car?
Her gut screamed a hell-yes.
She peeped at him out of the corner of her eye. His massive presence dominated the vehicle. All those angles in profile and sheer strength in his body…her mind shorted out.
Do what you do best. Be a doctor. She knew well how to put personal shit on hold to do her job. She faced him and forced out, “Did one of those guys back there get you? I know you’re hurt.”
He cleared his throat and replied, “Something happened earlier today.” His face tightened, but he didn’t alter his fix on the road.
“Pull over. Let me take a look.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She leaned in to touch his midsection. He flinched. Her fingers came away with blood.
“Stop the car right now!”
He pulled the SUV to the shoulder while commenting, “I’ll heal. It’s nothing I have
n’t dealt with before.”
“Take off your shirt. Let me see what’s going on.”
“How about we not do this right now?” He threw the car in park and faced her.
“Take the shirt off.” For good measure she added, “Please.”
“Why are your eyes brown?”
“Contacts. I have a little problem with people staring. Shirt, please.”
Complying, he shrugged out of his black leather coat, and tossed a few knives into the back seat next to his long blade before removing the tactical vest. Her eyes caught on the black leather wrist guards. The left one had several deep scratches into the leather. Wow. Guys actually wore those things outside of movies.
Focus, he’s hurt, she reminded herself.
He took off a dark T-shirt to reveal a blood soaked bandage that covered most of his chest and abdomen.
“What did this to you?” she asked while unwrapping.
“Daemon.”
He said it so matter-of-factly as if this was an everyday nuisance.
“Was it trying to eviscerate you? No, don’t answer that. Of course, it was trying to kill you.”
She’d seen plenty of mega-wounds, and Eric’s of the other day ranked pretty high, but this…she swallowed a gasp. The four vertical, bloody cuts from pecs to just south of his belly button were within millimeters of full-on disembowelment. How had he managed to take out those guys in that smelly room? Not to mention carry her, pressed against these injuries. Doesn’t this hurt?
Oh, God, had she transmitted that telepathically? Had he heard?
He jerked as if she’d touched something painful.
She glanced up sharply.
Burns like a motherfu—His eyes widened as if telepathy caught him offguard. “Uh, yeah, it hurts. It’s just not anything new.” His gaze darkened as his finger touched her cheek, the one now the color of an eggplant. “If I could kill them again, I would just for this. Does it hurt?”
Emotion both foreign and complex blossomed in her chest. “It’s nothing to complain about, at least in comparison.” She waved her hand at his bloody body. She should try to fix him. But did she have enough juice to attempt it?
Biting abdominal pain cramped her body. His pain. Okay, no question on the trying. She couldn’t stomach sharing that for more than a few minutes. “Let me help. At least see if I can make this better.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Yes, I do. Relax.” The healing power in her revved, excited to be allowed free rein. The second her energy entered him, her body electrified. Personal pain and fatigue disappeared. There was nothing but Ashor…no past, no future, nothing but the two of them, connected.
And what a head rush.
He leaned back and groaned.
She sensed he was…Good Lord, he was seconds from orgasm. She cursed herself for noticing this. Arousal rocketed her to a point of spontaneous combustion.
Her medical side pointed out both of them were in shit-poor condition. How could either of them even contemplate heavy grinding?
Her hormones paused for about a second to consider the thought, shrugged, and charged off to supersensitize her body.
She caught a brief flash of thought from him. Damn, this is so right. Need to taste her.
Startled, she jumped and lost contact with him.
His eyes popped open. “What’s wrong?” He smoothed one of his large hands along her cheek. His touch was gentle. His expression was open admiration.
Kiss me, she thought. Where had that come from? The guy needs healing, not seducing. She choked out, “Nothing. I’m just…”
“You don’t need to do this. You’ve been through a lot today.”
In her best doctor tone she replied, “We’re not done yet. I haven’t had a lot of practice at this healing thing. Let me try again.” How was she supposed to think about healing? It had been so easy with Eric. No distraction. Just down to business. That’s what she had to do. Business only. Somehow, she had to tune out every image her overactive imagination flashed into her brain. Everything that didn’t involve healing.
She slammed her eyelids closed and visualized his lacerations.
All his pain dissipated. When she felt herself sway from weakness, she withdrew her energy from his body, but didn’t miss his suppressed moan. Intuitively, she knew its cause. She also longed for more of the high that came from being so intimately connected to him.
She wiped away the remaining blood with the old bandage as best possible. It worked! All that remained were some faint, puckered pink scars. A small blue sigil of a circle and stylized lettering appeared over the area, perplexing her. The mark blended in with his other tats. An impulse compelled her to lean forward and softly kiss his abdomen over the new image where the wounds had been.
Ashor inhaled sharply while his body bowed toward her. He ground out between clenched teeth, “Have you no mercy?”
She sat up and grabbed her head. Vertigo spun the world. “My head is spinning.”
“Maybe it’s the energy expenditure.” However, Ashor’s gaze communicated the belief it was the lust that still pinged between them like a sonar gone wild. Suddenly, his expression turned deadly serious.
He glanced out the rearview mirror and announced, “Evil approaches.”
“Watch out,” Kira shrieked as a four-door import pulled alongside the SUV. The driver targeted Ashor with a gun.
“Down,” Ashor commanded. He dodged the firing muzzle and grabbed Kira forward to avoid the bullet’s path. The bullet left clean holes in the side windows and a spiderweb of cracked glass.
“Persistent fuckers,” Ashor grumbled as he jammed the SUV into gear and rammed the car next to them before peeling away. Just as they hit the road, Ashor’s new cell phone squealed in a high-pitched, synthetic, musical noise.
“You okay?” he asked, ignoring the phone. To clear his side view, Ashor thrust his elbow through the spiderweb of cracked safety glass. Glass cubes showered everywhere. “Shit.” He wiped his body free of debris.
“I’m fine,” she replied. She whiplashed into the seat as the SUV was rammed forward.
Ashor tapped the brakes. The cars crashed together again, slamming them forward and then forcefully back in their seats.
“Can’t you do a spell or something to protect this car or make his explode?” Kira asked.
“What? No.”
“Aren’t you a magus, which implies magician or sorcerer? You guys are supposed to do magic spells.”
“The spells were lost.” His phone rang again.
“Lost? What kind of moronic organization loses the spells?” She heard the hysterical note in her voice.
He swerved the car to avoid another side hit.
“Want me to answer that phone? And maybe change the ringtone?” The phone’s persistent, shrill noise hurt her ears. Who would choose such a grating sound?
He pulled the phone out of his coat pocket from beneath his left hip and threw it to her.
“Have him call back.” He grumbled something to himself too low for her to hear.
“Hello, this is Ashor’s phone,” said Kira.
“Who’s this? Put Ashor on,” demanded the man at the other end.
The car bumped them from behind again. She grunted and then replied, “He’s busy. He’ll have to call you back.”
“No. Put. Him. On. Who is this?”
“Is that you, Eric?”
“Dr. Hardy?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m glad he found you. You weren’t in Baltimore. That’s why I’m calling.”
She turned to Ashor, “It’s Eric. Why is he looking for me?”
“We don’t have time for this. Tell him to phone Javen and instruct him to ready the plane.”
“Oh, crap!” she squealed and grabbed the panic handle above her head when the SUV cornered sharply, barely staying on all four wheels. She put the phone to her ear again and asked, “Eric?”
“Yeah, still here. What’s going on there?”
“Some guy is trying to ram us off the road.”
The SUV swerved; the phone flew from Kira’s hand into the dashboard. A bullet pierced the window in front of her. She swiped the phone off the floor and put it back to her ear.
“Someone just shot through the window again. Ashor said call Javen and have the plane ready. Gotta go.”
Ashor slowed slightly, allowing the import to come up beside them. He rammed into the foreign car, using the advantageous weight of the SUV, which was far heavier. The car fishtailed off the damp road and crashed into a stone wall.
She should commend Ashor on his driving skills. Annoyingly, he didn’t seem at all affected by their near death experience, whereas her heart had yet to realize the danger had passed.
He asked, “Have you always been a magnet for trouble? How about you tell me why I found you hog-tied for aggressive interrogation? Then, this suicidal car attack.”
She was not ready for that particular conversation at the moment.
Instead she said, “I need to make a phone call.” She dialed Markus’s cell phone and got no answer. Then she tried Kane’s cell and was put directly into voicemail. “Kane, this is Kira. I’m a bit worried about Markus. If you’ve heard from him, please give me a ring. I guess you can call this number.”
She dialed Baltimore Regional. “Yes, this is Dr. Hardy. Could you please put me through to Dr. Wilkins’s voicemail? Thanks.” She listened through the greeting. “Hi, Vance. I’m sorry I missed you the other night. I had a family emergency and had to go out of town. I’ll see you at work.”
“Who’s Vance?” he asked in a neutral tone. His eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead.
The tension in the car spiked. His features were so tight that a needle would bounce off the taut muscles. Was he jealous?
“It’s this guy I’ve been seeing for a while. He wants to get married.” She noticed his knuckles lost their color where they gripped the wheel. He cares. Her chest clenched.
“You accept his offer?”
“A woman’s got needs, you know.”
The SUV swerved to a halt on the side of the road so abruptly Kira’s head smacked the seat back.