by Jaycee Clark
“It matters,” he said, softly, surprised.
She only raised a brow. “Saker, you had your chance with her and, if memory serves, you decided she and her power were not worth your or your people’s time.”
He looked back out the window and wondered when Gregori would return. Would his father know anything? A sliver of unease sharpened along his nerves. His father. The king would not be happy about this last turn of events—well, Cyzarine missing, obviously, but also Saker’s bonding with his past mate.
He sighed and rubbed his face. An image rose again in his mind.
A dark place, fear…a shimmer of hope.
He frowned and closed his eyes. What the hell.
Again, but this time sharper.
The room was dark. A golden circle with spokes wheeling out from the center. A faint breeze. The scent of…
“Kladovik.”
The cologne.
“We know he has her, tell us something we don’t know,” Erik shot off.
Instead of meeting the taunt he concentrated. Please, please, please. He had to find her. Had to…
A darkened window. And still that scent of sandalwood and—sulfur?—teased his senses.
A shuffle of something. The sense that the room was large, the ceilings tall. He tried to see more, to get more of an image, but then blackness shuttered down, and fear slithered through him.
Until he opened his eyes.
It wasn’t his fear.
It was hers.
She was scared.
Chapter Nine
Reen tried to focus, tried to understand what was going on. But she couldn’t grasp her thoughts. Couldn’t really see. She felt as if she were tilting one way then the other. As if she were rocking.
Rocking?
Was she on a ship?
She didn’t care for ships. Opening her eyes, she tried to concentrate on what was around her. Instead, blackness pressed down on her eyes. She tried to move, but couldn’t. Her hands were behind her, her fingers tingling.
Bound.
She moved her feet and relief flooded through her at the fact her legs were at least mobile.
Where was she? What the hell had happened?
What did she remember?
Think.
Think.
Think.
The last thing she remembered was…was…
Dancing.
With Saker. His dark black eyes glaring down at her, a muscle ticking in his jaw…
The music pumped through the air. She remembered…
Wanting him.
No, needing him.
An image of them entwined, his arm muscles tight and corded on either side of her as he pumped into her rose into her mind.
No.
No.
She did not fuck a man on a stage in a room full of people.
Did she?
Pain beat in her head. She rubbed it and realized she was lying on soft, silky sheets.
What was she doing at the club in the first place?
The Collector.
Her heartbeat slammed in her chest.
The Collector.
She needed to stay calm. The worst thing, she wouldn’t get out of this. Best thing, she could at least free Oleana.
She closed her mind to all but her friend. She’d tried the exercise for days, but had gotten nothing but disjointed images. It was something they’d learned at the Academy.
Focus and you’ll find your target. Or the victim. Link with one, you might find the other. Find more.
If she could do that, maybe she could link her mind with Saker.
She froze. Saker?
No, Erik. She’d meant Erik.
No. Saker.
The lights, shimmering, dancing. The mating glow.
No. No. Hellfire! Could it be? For a moment, all she could think about was those stupid lights, periwinkle and pink shimmering around them as they’d—damn—bonded.
She was bound to Saker.
She was bound to a fucking falcon!
Reen sat up, glad for the hundred plus crunches she did religiously. How? How the hell could she be so…so…so…
She closed her eyes as the room spun.
She’d been mated to a falcon once before, but she hadn’t really remembered Rourik. All she remembered about him was…
Was…
She frowned and tried to recall the young man she’d only met once who had acted as if she was beneath him.
But who was he? What color was his hair? His eyes? She tried to recall.
White-blond hair that had brushed the top of his collar.
Anger and confusion slithered around her stomach. Blond hair. And that arrogant tilt of his lips. How could she forget?
No. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t.
Saker. She’d mated with Saker. Rourik had been her betrothed. Just because they had the same smirk and hair and saker meant falcon didn’t mean they were the same.
Maybe they just knew each other, or something.
White-blond hair.
She closed her eyes. “I’m an idiot.”
Saker.
Forget it. She slammed down the walls in her mind, anger beating back the fear. She had a mission to do, and she’d do it if it killed her. She’d kick his ass later, whoever he was.
Her muscles limber and stretched, she worked her body until she sat on her hands and slowly wiggled through the loop her arms made. It wasn’t easy. It had been years since she’d done that stunt.
Panting, she nibbled at her bindings, pissed that her knife was missing from her thigh.
Who took it?
The Collector? Who the hell was the bastard? Had he watched her all evening? Was he a patron? Or did he work at the club?
Taking a deep breath, she imagined Oleana in her mind. Imagined her friend laughing.
But as usual, it seemed to take too long to connect to her friend.
And then the images were in black and white. Black and white, the room strangely dark, but lit. As if seeing at night.
Then Reen knew…
Oleana was shifted.
Knowing that, and rebuking herself for not realizing it sooner, she focused, and tried to find her friend the albino tiger.
Pain pulsed through her body.
Tired…so tired…
There was only a partial view of the room. From low. The rug was expensive. The far wall, a classical painting hung, the gilded frame, seemingly heavy. The chairs had been shredded.
Come on, come on, look around. Tell me where you are…
“Reen… Go… Leave. Don’t come here. He’ll keep you. Hurt you…”
“Hurts so bad. I hurt.”
Waves of intense pain crashed through her body.
Reen gritted her teeth, tears pricking her eyes. “Hang on. Please, hang on, Leana.”
“I just wish he’d kill me already, Reen. Tell Mom I love her.”
“No. No. Hang on. You hang on. I can’t lose you.”
She wouldn’t lose another person she loved. She’d lost everyone else.
Reen worked on the ties that bound her wrists. Leather. Why couldn’t the bastard have used rope or tape? Hell, even fishing twine. But no, he’d used leather and she couldn’t get it.
“Where are you?”
She stopped, listened. The only sound was her panting breath. She looked around the darkened room and wondered where she was.
Again she looked up.
“Cyzarine, where are you?”
She ignored the voice and carefully stood, the pain in her head a dull throb now. She walked towards the window, but stopped when she realized something was in her way. It was so dark she could barely see. The faint light from the window told her where the window was located. But the rest was completely black.
She tried to move again and ran into a slim something. Shoving with her toe, she knew it was connected to the floor. She felt out in front of her, followed the smooth metal rod from in front of her up as far as she c
ould reach. Then she ran her hands down until she met the hardwood floor.
Her heart fluttered in her chest.
She moved a few feet to her right and felt another one. And another one. Every foot there was a bar that ran up higher than she could reach. She made her way slowly around the entire room. Or what she could of it. She realized then that the bed was in the center. The window was beyond her reach. And every two feet or so, there was a horizontal bar. What the hell.
Then she knew.
A cage…
She trembled, shivered and sat on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest.
No. No. No.
No cages.
Everyone knew that firebirds couldn’t be caged.
They weakened.
They died.
I hurt…
Chapter Ten
Kladovik stood in the hallway and listened. He smiled. He could hear her, shuffling about inside. Trying to get away? Trying to learn where she was?
Wouldn’t she just love his surprise for her? He made certain all his pretties had the best accommodations, perfectly suited for each one’s particular needs.
In the case of most felines, he found dungeons, damp and dank often did the trick. For lycans, he preferred light, lots and lots of light. Avians—well, for them, cages for many. Sometimes mere separation from their mates. Clipped wings also worked wonders.
He smiled and popped his knuckles.
This was going to be such fun. He’d never had a firebird before. He glanced over his shoulder to the golden eagle screaming for all eternity. She’d been beautiful in both forms. A solid white eagle, but he’d clipped her wings and she couldn’t fly away.
She’d never flown away.
And neither would his firebird.
Reen. Cyzarine? From the fabled massacre in the Laru woods? Royalty on top of rarity.
He stopped in front of a tall mirror that hung from his high ceiling almost to the floor. He pressed the button hidden in the frame and waited. The mirror went dark, then lit from behind. And he could see her.
Sitting in the dark.
He took a deep breath and even through the wall could smell her fear. There was just something about knowing a beautiful woman was afraid. Not just worried, but afraid, bone deep fear. It was even a headier feeling to know that he caused that fear.
When the fear turned to terror…
He took another deep breath and watched her. She shoved a dark strand of hair behind her small ear.
“Untied ourself did we?” he asked, rubbing his jaw. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Not surprised at all.”
She would be more of a fighter, a survivor than the others. She was trained after all. Her history proved she was a survivor.
Of course the last one had been as well, but then he knew they could all be broken.
He pressed the intercom button. “I hope you’ve found your new accommodations to your liking.”
He grinned as she stood and whirled, looking one way, then the other, then up. Her darted looks, her panted breath…
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice low, but still he caught the tremble.
“Aw, anxious for a meeting? I’m honored, I am.” He leaned up and whispered against the microphone. “Don’t worry, my pretty, I’ll be back and we’ll get to know each other a whole lot better.”
“Not in this lifetime,” she hissed.
He smiled and let go of the button, and watched her for a minute more. This would be fun. But he also knew, he would have to hurry. Yet he didn’t want to rush. He wanted to enjoy. Necessity or pleasure?
He frowned at the knowledge he couldn’t take his time as he wanted to, as he’d like to, as he deserved to. She was one of the rarest of the rare.
This time, though, he’d have to hurry. Sadly, he didn’t have months or weeks. He’d be lucky to have days with this one.
The best things should never be rushed.
However, he didn’t see a choice.
The Hunters were after him.
Erik watched Saker pace, the conference room had been turned into a working hub of activity. Photographs had been pinned to the board. Women, so many women. The left side was reserved for those they knew were victims of the Collector. The right side of the board was possible victims.
Rare women who simply vanished. Mostly from either clubs or very exclusive parties.
No recent bodies had ever been found. So what the hell did the bastard do with them?
“I don’t get why no one has ever found a trace of these women,” Gregori, Saker’s man, muttered.
“He keeps them,” Saker said.
“The Collector.” Erik nodded. “You’re right. He wouldn’t go to the trouble to find his treasures if he simply planned on throwing them away when he was done. That would be ordinary. He’s different.”
Saker pointed to the board. “They’re different. All shifters, for the most part. Though these two are humans, sensitives and gifted, but still humans. Talent and rarity.”
Erik nodded. The door opened and Navalovich strode in, dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes and her clothing rumpled.
Erik assumed they all looked that way. The incessant tick of some inner clock spurred him on. They had no idea where to even look.
“We checked all his properties?” Saker asked again.
“The answer hasn’t changed.” They’d searched all the clubs, calling in all constables, local enforcers, state enforcers, even feeling their underground systems. Nothing. At least not yet. There were two warehouses that had been listed as developing properties in Moscow and Amsterdam. But they’d yielded nothing.
“You both smelled sulfur on him. I’m assuming we’re checking to see if he’s a demon or of a sect? Where are we on that information?” Navalovich asked.
“The local demon council is investigating and said they’ll be sending a liaison to speak with us,” Erik answered.
Damn it, he couldn’t really feel Reen. He could sense her, vague wisps of fear, of worry, of rage.
But he couldn’t get a lock on her.
Not like Saker—damn the man.
Since they’d bonded at the club, Erik could feel his small stake on her fading and there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it.
Swallowing past his own jealousy and anger, he stared at her picture on the board. “Can you feel her?” he asked Saker.
Saker gave one nod. “He’s locked her in a cage.”
Which would weaken her. “He’s not stupid.”
Saker turned and looked at him, the dark black eyes glowing green. “Oh, he’s stupid. He dared to touch her.”
Erik tilted his head and studied the other man. “When this is all over and we have her back…”
“She’s mine.”
“Even if she doesn’t want that? She might be pissed at the way things played out.”
Saker didn’t look away. “I’m not letting her go again.” He strode out the door. Gregori looking after him.
“The king laughed his ass off until he realized she was missing and taken by a very evil man.” Gregori, a respected formal general of the royal Sokul Guard, nodded to Erik. “The king’s offered his services in whatever way they are needed. As we speak, his best are scouring the city to find her.”
Erik hoped to hell someone did before the Collector made Reen a permanent part of his collection.
Chapter Eleven
Reen sat between a nightstand and one of the bars on the cage. Air still flowed around her. She tried to see past the cage, but night vision was never a strong point. She could see great distances in scorching light, blinding snow-white light, but darkness…
She shivered. She hated the dark, hated not having her back against a wall.
She felt exposed. She tried again to connect with Leana, but hadn’t made a solid connection, not like before. Either her friend was blocking, or…
No, she wouldn’t go there. Oleana was alive. A
live. She had to be. If Leana were dead, she’d know it, sense it, feel it.
It wasn’t that she felt—nothing.
She simply couldn’t connect.
She did, however, feel others pushing against her walls. Saker? Erik?
She had a feeling it might be both. But Saker’s attempts were stronger, harder, more intense and her head was already aching. Now the pain pulsed through it in a wave. She closed her eyes and tried to meditate, calm her racing heart.
This—the cage, the fear—was nothing but the Collector’s sick and twisted mind games and damn it if she wasn’t letting him get the upper hand. The more emotion she wasted, the less power she’d have.
Already, she could feel her power waning. It was the fact she was locked in a cage.
Not just any cage. Only a special cage, one cursed and custom designed, could do this. He’d obviously seen her before tonight. He’d been waiting on her. She wondered when and where she’d first come across his notice. At least she was closer to Leana.
The man knew his victims, what made them tick, what they feared, what sapped their strength.
Behind her closed lids, she imagined her pale pink and blue light. Light that had shimmered around her and her mate.
A sliver of anger shot through her mind, but she tamped it down. She’d kick his ass later. Right now, she wasn’t about to let pride get in the way of getting the hell out of here.
What happened to the others? Were they all trapped here?
No, they were dead or kept somehow.
So much trouble and planning into what? For what?
Again, pain shot through her head from blocking. She concentrated on the sounds, concentrated on the window.
Then she opened her mind.
Images and feelings shouted against her mind. She took a deep breath and tried to understand, tried to focus…
“Saker? Saker? Where are you?”
Shock, like lightning, bolted down her spine.
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know. With him…the Collector. I don’t know where. It’s quiet, I can’t hear traffic noises. It’s dark…”