by Dee, Bonnie
It’ll be so much easier, so much safer.
Brenna couldn’t see Donovan now, but with the Sorhineth sandwiched against her body, she was connected to him on an elemental level, could feel him as he strode into the living area and threw a roundhouse punch into the body of the man he had once considered a friend. Oh, his anger had been carefully banked, but now it all came out in his blow. She felt the impact of his fist, heard the surprised grunt Julian made, felt the silence spell that Donovan hadn’t used against Jenalee settle over the room. Then, Donovan brought his knee up, pulverizing the Destroyer’s face and knocking him out cold.
And as suddenly as that, the voice inside her head was gone, making her wonder if she’d imagined it. Relief, quick and sudden, flooded through her, quieting the curl of dread the voice had insinuated.
“Lhiannan, you can come out now.” Donovan’s voice, still resonant with unlimited power, shivered over her bare skin like a caress. “We need to figure out what to do with this piece of shit.”
Brenna rose and shimmied into one of the silk robes hanging on a hook next to the bathroom.
She grabbed a pair of shorts from the bag Donovan had hastily thrown together before leaving his house then walked into the living area with the Sorhineth tucked under one arm.
Donovan stood in the center of the room, spectacularly nude, over his fallen employee. Julian’s face was a bloody pulp.
Good for Donovan. Maybe he had vented some of his self-doubt and anger in his display of physicality. It wasn’t until she saw he was unharmed that she realized how truly terrified she’d been, how she’d wondered if they might very well die this afternoon.
She handed him the shorts. “Here you go.”
He slipped them on, much to her great relief … and regret. Naked and commanding, he was a serious piece of eye candy.
“I don’t suppose you guys keep some rope handy around this place?”
He smiled, a flash of white teeth, and where it had given her the warm fuzzies before, now it went straight to her heart. She stepped forward into the welcoming circle of his arms and held on tight.
She opened her mouth to tell him of her love, but he answered her earlier question before she could. Then the moment was gone, swept away by the necessity of dealing with Julian. Bastard.
“No such luck, love. He’d probably just escape them anyway. Maybe I should have just killed him.” The calculation in his voice told her he was still in Spirit mode, no matter how much he looked at her with love. It made her shudder, even as she understood and accepted it.
She pulled away, not in fear, but to look him in the eye. “You can’t kill him. We need the answers he can provide.”
Donovan brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “You’re right, of course, but after Jenalee, well, this kind of betrayal doesn’t go down easy. I’d just as soon kill him and be done with it.”
She nodded, maintaining eye contact. “So, what do we do now?”
“We wait, we question him, and then, we go on the offensive.”
Chapter Nine
“What are we going to bind him with?” Brenna asked.
“Words alone. Julian doesn’t have the age or wisdom to combat them, even if he is a Keeper.” Donovan fought to keep the smug tone out of his voice. While it stung, mightily, that Julian had betrayed him, after Jenalee’s betrayal, it wasn’t as much of a surprise. What he wouldn’t give for the loyalty he’d seen in the field in war after war. Was it a measure of today’s society, and of the Terrans in general, that treachery was the norm rather than the exception? That humans held their honor in more regard than the beings made to hold it dear?
“Why’d you hit him in the first place?” There was no censure in Brenna’s question, but genuine curiosity.
“Because he expected something else. Seems to be a trend. Guess I took a page from your book.” It felt good to see the blood on Julian’s face, to know he’d hurt him physically in a moment of swift, blinding vengeance.
“Hmmm. Tactics, huh?”
“Exactly.”
Brenna settled onto the couch next to him, the Sorhineth at her side. “So what are we gonna do when he wakes up?”
“Standard interrogation.”
“And how do you know about that?” Again, interest rang in her voice.
Donovan hesitated for a moment, mind whirling as he pondered how much he could, or even should, tell her. It took only seconds to make the decision. She’d already seen him at his worst and returned to his side. His past was nothing to be ashamed of.
“World War II, for starters. I was stationed in France, and then in North Africa, served with Patton there. I was taken prisoner after Kasserine Pass in ’43 and escaped to Morocco just after the end of the war.”
What he hadn’t put into words was the terror and heartbreak of seeing his comrades gunned down, the survivors tortured at the hands of the Nazis. He omitted his life before Africa, with Angeline, of the glories of Paris before it fell. Before she died fighting with the Resistance. And the three years spent in a prison camp that hadn’t officially existed.
“And then what?” Brenna’s voice was subdued now as if she understood the weight of his unspoken words.
“Himmler himself was on his way to question me when I escaped.”
“Holy shit! Himmler? Why?”
Donovan was glad for her knowledge of World War II history—he’d have to ask how she’d come by it. But first…
“He’d been searching for something to give the Reich an edge, and somehow I came up on his radar.”
“Was he a Destroyer?”
Donovan stroked his chin. “Maybe. Hell, probably. If he’d been Terran, it would explain Hitler’s fixation with the occult.”
She seemed to ponder his statement for a moment, then urged him forward with a wave of her hand.
“French Foreign Legion through ’62.” He paused, lost for a moment in memories of Algeria, of blood and dust and unspeakable dying.
“So you’ve been there and done that?”
Her comment brought him back to the present. He was more than a little uncomfortable that it was so easy to bare his soul to her. It made sense, since she was his mate, but he’d never felt so free in reliving the past and dealing with his inner thoughts. Not with Jenalee, not with Angeline—women who had helped form exactly who and what he was, for the good and bad. He just hoped he could shield her from the primal beast he became when roused to the point of anger he felt in war.
With a low moan, Julian began to wake. Donovan stood, pulling Brenna up beside him, before guiding her to a safe place near the wet bar with a movement of his head. Then he settled into the armchair opposite Julian, arms folded across his chest, glancing back and forth between his mate and his enemy.
Brenna looked at him and Julian calmly. His words of war hadn’t alienated her, and for that he was grateful.
His gaze drifted once more to where Julian lay. The big Terran groaned again and strained at the binding entrapping him.
“Didn’t think I knew the words, did you, old friend?” Donovan mocked, taking great satisfaction in the flash of fear that entered Julian’s eyes.
Claire and Mark pushed open the door to the suite as his words died, and for a brief moment he had to wonder at their timing. Was his betrayal to be complete? Then he saw the look of complete surprise on both of their faces and knew, deep down, they’d remained true to him.
“Julian, you bastard,” Mark spat, lunging forward. His curled hands ricocheted off the binding spell.
“Huh. I didn’t expect that,” Claire said, a frown wrinkling her brow.
Brenna let out a small laugh, drawing Donovan’s attention away from the trio. She was smiling, obviously amused at the difference between Mark and Claire. Mark practically foamed at the mouth, while Claire studied the binding spell as if it were a new and fascinating science experiment.
“I do believe it’s time we got some answers,” Donovan said. He released the silence incantation with a wave
of his hand. While most Terrans had abandoned their protection of the earth and the people who inhabited it, the Protectors had no problem in keeping the magic.
*
“Stupid son of a bitch,” Julian snarled through smashed lips. “You can only bespell so many of us. Any Protectors left are in our pocket.”
Brenna watched Julian, wondering how Donovan was going to handle him. The bound Terran twisted once and looked at her, his gaze full of such hate she stepped back, bumping into the bar. Damn, if all the Destroyers were this pissed, they were in for a heap of trouble. She shook off the shiver of fear that worked its way down her spine.
They would do what they had to do to defeat the Destroyers. It was so simple, yet so complicated. Even though the very concept of killing repulsed her, she was beginning to see its value.
Once again, a sinister voice whispered in her ear, nudging her attention away from Donovan to Mark. Why trap yourself with a being who has seen ninety years of life when you can have a human, simply for the asking?
Mark looked at her with none of the downcast glances of before. Instead, his gaze was full of male appreciation and something else, a kindling spark of lust that transformed his eyes to a smoldering emerald. And for the first time, she found herself taking in his full appearance … the fair hair so like her own, handsome, wholly masculine features, cut body. What if Donovan wasn’t for her? She remembered how easily he’d dismissed his relationship with Jenalee. How he’d admitted to killing in war.
She stepped forward on numb feet, and Mark moved toward her just as quickly. His eyes locked on hers. His obvious, impressive erection pushing at the fabric of his slacks.
A throb of desire surged through her, animalistic and raw, bringing her nipples to hard points, setting her pussy on fire. She could live on this kind of passion, feast on it, center her life around it.
Mark was human, male, desirable—hers for the taking … if she wanted it. And right now she wanted it, more than anything. It was all right … and right here, if she took it.
She rounded the corner of the couch, intent on one thing only—tasting Mark. Taking his cock into her mouth, into her body. The thought made her pulse thud, made her clit tighten in anticipation.
Oh yes, she needed to fuck the man—and right now. The need screamed through her blood, her heart, her mind.
“Stop!” Claire’s voice rang with authority, slicing through her mind.
Brenna halted in her tracks as if stuck in glue, and shook her head. She felt fuzzy, muddled. Her blood thundered through her veins as if molten.
What had she been doing? Mark was halfway across the room instead of right in front of her. He had the same look of confusion in his eyes.
“Donovan, bind Julian again, all of him.”
Donovan stood, towering over Julian, and silenced him with a few words before moving to stand beside Brenna, pulling her into the shelter of his arms. “What in God’s name was that all about?”
“He was bespelling them with his thoughts,” Claire explained. “Trying to do the one thing that would tear you apart and destroy your concentration.”
“Brenna? Mark?”
Brenna shook her head again, trying to jiggle some sense into it. “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was looking at Julian, the next, I was walking toward Mark.”
“Same thing here. It doesn’t make any sense.” Mark’s voice sounded bewildered, and a bit belligerent.
“It does if he’s a Singer. This is dangerous, Donovan. Two Air Keepers; both Singers? What else are they gonna throw at us?” Claire fisted her hands and stared hard at Julian.
Brenna struggled for coherency. “What in the hell is a Singer? The Sorhineth and journal don’t say anything about them.” What shook her even more than the introduction of yet another faction was the concept that Julian had been able to enter her thoughts not once, but twice. Because she recognized now that his was the voice she’d heard before Donovan knocked him out.
An even more frightening thought was that she’d been so easily manipulated. Could Donovan, her supposed mate, be using the same kind of control? She remembered feeling bombarded by stray emotions in Flagstaff, and then again after they had first visited Claire. What if the emotion she felt was false, placed there for an agenda she couldn’t even begin to fathom?
As if reading her mind, Donovan tightened the arm around her shoulders. “Unless bound, a Singer can use thoughts to direct the actions of others. Julian must have used it, if the way you and Mark looked is any indication. I’d almost forgotten he could do it. He’s only used it once before around me, ten years ago, when we were bodyguarding the quarterback for the Niners. It only works on humans.” Self-disgust was evident in his tone.
Brenna shivered. Whatever the Singer had been trying to do couldn’t have been good. Mark had taken a step back, as if to distance himself from both her and Julian.
Julian might have failed in his attempt to take the Sorhineth, but he’d planted a seed of doubt that was germinating at a frightening speed.
“If we’re going to question him, they need to leave.” Claire stated unceremoniously. “And the next room isn’t good enough.”
Donovan cocked his head and pulled Brenna against him tighter, until she almost couldn’t breathe. “I don’t want to split up. Remember, if she goes, the Sorhineth fades.”
She pushed away a bit, giving herself a bit of space. She wanted, more than anything, to believe her love for Donovan was true, but there was no way she was going to ask him whether he shared Julian’s talents in front of an audience. And would she even know if he was telling the truth? She’d think hard about her suspicions, and decide what to do using logic, not emotion. Donovan deserved that much, as did she. She was stuck in this situation, bound by her family’s word and their continued wellbeing. She needed to make the right choices, and to do that, she needed information. “We’ll be fine here if you keep an eye on us, right?”
“Probably, but do you really want to take that chance?” the pretty Terran asked, her eyebrows raised in question.
“Only if the Sorhineth is in the next room where none of you can see it. That way, if Julian uses his abilities against you, it’s safe. Know this; I’ll never willingly give its location if your loyalty is in doubt. Mark and I can take care of ourselves, now that we know what we’re up against. Right, Mark?”
“Uh, yeah.” He looked uncomfortable with the suggestion, but at least he could meet her eyes now. After a whole morning of avoiding her gaze, it was a shocking development. Whatever Julian had done, it had changed Mark. It remained to be seen if it was a good or bad thing. Right now her gut went with “good” because he could finally look at her without flinching.
Brenna walked into the unused bedroom and placed the Sorhineth next to the Bible in the nightstand, locking the door behind her when she left. When she returned, Mark joined her, and they sat in a set of chairs, close enough to hear what was going on, but far enough away to hold a muted conversation and not divide Donovan’s and Claire’s attention.
Personally, Brenna wasn’t sure she wanted to know what they were going to do to Julian. Given Donovan’s past, it wasn’t likely to be pretty. There was no question it was necessary, but that didn’t mean she had to witness it. The scariest part was that after what Julian had just done to her, she really didn’t give a damn anymore. How wrong was that?
“So what happened a few minutes ago?” She kept her voice low. She felt Donovan and Claire lift the binding spell, then something just as unnerving settled over the room, making her skin crawl. No matter how long she was around it, she’d never get used to the magic. Especially when it was being used to interrogate someone.
“He, ah, made us question our allegiance.”
“How is it that you know his intent, but it’s still really foggy to me?”
Mark shrugged. “I’ve been around them a long time. Since I got out of the military ten years ago. Maybe I’m not totally susceptible any more. Or maybe it was be
cause he made eye contact with you, and not me.”
Brenna leaned forward, Julian pushed to the back of her mind now. Now that she knew what to look for, she’d keep it in mind … on both ends. Right this second she was intrigued by the prospect of learning more about Donovan, even if it was through Mark. She needed to make her own decision regarding Julian’s treacherous invasion of her mind. Needed to make up her mind as to whether Donovan had spoken true of his inability to manipulate her feelings. “So you were in the military, like Donovan?”
He laughed and leaned back in the chair, more relaxed. “I don’t think any human can compete with what Donovan did over three decades. Naw, I was in the Marines for a few years, did a gig in Monterey at the Language Institute and ran into Donovan.”
“What was he doing there?”
Mark looked at her questioningly, and she grinned at his odd expression, more at ease than she’d been since last night’s dinner.
“It’s not like we’ve really had a lot of time to do more than figure out the Sorhineth. If I’m going to be stuck with you guys, I’d like to know a little bit about you.”
“Fair enough, but if there’s something I think Donovan should answer, I’m going to let you know.”
“Works for me.” She paused and listened as Julian let out a yelp, more of surprise than pain. It should have made her shudder in empathy or disgust, but didn’t. “So what exactly do you do?”
“Provide bodyguards and security for high rollers. You heard Donovan mention the quarterback for the Niners?” At her nod, he continued. “That kind of stuff. Jenalee was more of a running favor. Sure she had her share of security risks, but as a Singer, she could take care of herself.” There was an undertone of pain to his voice, but somewhere along the line, maybe when he was out with Claire, he’d come to grips with what had happened this morning. She hoped Donovan would be as lucky, no matter what kind of alpha-he-man vibes he tried to cover it up with.