“I’m going to kill her.”
Sophia ran her hands up and down his ribcage in a soothing gesture. “Somehow I doubt she meant harm.” She squeezed him tight. “Let’s see what her spell’s meant to do.”
Heath groaned; he loved his motorcycle. Its lack of magic was one of his favorite features. “I don’t think we have a choice,” he answered in a rough voice.
Any other day he would have turned around and fought, but Sophia was with him, and he wouldn’t risk her life. The only option was to continue moving forward on the vehicle that most certainly had a mind of its own.
They wove through traffic like a sewing needle, every move calculated and precise. Heath released a sardonic laugh. They’d thrown off their tail—they were stuck at the end of the line of traffic, blocks of bumper-to-bumper cars separating them.
“I think it was a protective spell,” Sophia said in a wry voice. “I’m going to be thanking the witch.”
“Speak for yourself,” Heath growled. “You ask before you mess with someone’s bike.”
Sophia only chuckled, her laughter melting into him, invigorating him.
That laughter stopped when a different car started crossing lanes to get to them, the bike jerking violently in the opposite direction as if it could sense danger. At the last second the breaks were put on, barely saving them from hitting a car surging forward, oblivious to them. It gave their new tail the time they needed to drive straight into them from where they were trapped.
They were thrown into the car they’d avoided only moments ago, the bike lying lifeless on the asphalt. Heath felt his kneecap shatter, and heard something in Sophia break as well. He stood, ignoring the pain, consciously keeping his leg from shaking, and pulled the gun Éloy had given them from where he’d strapped it to the back of the motorcycle.
Pulling the gun behind his back, Heath realized Sophia hadn’t moved. She was still resting against the car, his Zippo in her hand again.
The fire hit their attackers like a stroke of lightning. One second her flame roared to life, and the next it struck and engulfed the vehicle that had backed away, only to gun for them a second time. Now, a giant ball of fire was headed in their direction.
Sophia cursed, crawling between two cars toward the yard on the right side of the road. Heath followed her lead, pulling her the last few feet when she yelped, agony contorting her face, curling her fingers.
Heath heard silenced gunshots coming from one direction, and saw blue lights headed toward them from the other. Unfortunately for them, there had been no added weapons in his pile of clothes. All Heath had was a dagger and the gun strapped to his back. This situation would have to become much more dire for him to waste his limited bullets on his own kind.
More gunshots came at them, one ripping through the ground far too close for comfort, another ricocheting from where it hit one of the iron posts surrounding the yard they stood in. Heath tried to put Sophia behind him, closer to the policemen, but she wouldn’t budge, her left hand gripping her right arm tightly, the Zippo clenched tight.
“We’re going to get these assholes,” she murmured, managing a smile at him.
Heath couldn’t help put press a kiss to her hairline. “Baby, if you can’t kill them, no one can,” he said honestly. She could kick serious ass, her fearlessness an aphrodisiac to him.
He wanted to shelter her, to protect her, but he knew instinctively that this was what she did best. She was a protector herself; someone meant to take out those who needed it. She seemed to be damn good at what she did.
The first car that tailed them pulled up, its occupants shooting. One of them was a powerful air elemental, throwing Sophia into the house like a rag doll, her furious scream ending abruptly when she hit the ground.
Heath roared, sprinting in the direction of the car, vaguely noticing the blue lights coming closer, to a stop.
A bullet pierced his already screwed up leg, failing to slow him. He uttered an old Gaelic prayer, reached out and gripped the vehicle, the tattoos covering his arm moving, crawling excitedly toward his hand and bicep lending him power.
He threw the car on top of the man who dared toss Sophia like she was nothing, using such force the metal and plastic crumbled in on itself.
Two uniformed officers ran around him, one tripping from a gunshot, and the other focusing on the three remaining enemies. Heath relaxed slightly—they were shapeshifters, although he couldn’t tell which animal. He recognized them from a time when they’d helped the pack before, jailing humans who unwillingly detained kidnapped women.
“Take it.” The woman tossed him a Glock. Holding it in front of him, Heath backed away from the road, near the bushes where Sophia had landed. He had to make sure no one reached her, that she was safe.
A stream of fire hit one of their attackers on his chest, ripping an agonized scream from the man. The female officer quickly shoved him to the ground, cuffing him. Distracted, the male turned to face the two, only for another man to come up behind him, his gun raised.
Heath shot the werewolf through one of the broken windows of the car, hitting him square in the chest.
The ground beneath them rumbled. The last man, an earth elemental, grew vines that ripped the Glock from his hand and bound his feet to the ground. Heath was well and truly stuck. A glance around him revealed no one else had been tied down; the officers were focusing on detaining the badly burned man, and Sophia’s line of fire had died down.
He found her on all fours, lifting herself to stand only feet away from where she’d been thrown. Her eyes widened when she saw him, narrowing at the vines. She limped to him, but another movement drew his attention: the last man from the SUV was approaching, a grin on his face.
The man didn’t so much as glance at Sophia, his concentration on Heath, who found him strangely familiar, as if he knew one of the man’s relatives. Before he could think on that further, vines wrapped around his neck, squeezing hard enough to have broken something, had he been human.
Now, his air was cut off.
Sophia approached the man from behind on silent feet.
“Consider this is your execution,” he said to Heath, the vines tightening. “It should have happened hundreds of years ago.”
Spots appeared before his vision, and he knew his lack of oxygen was becoming critical.
A wave of heat hit him, and the man stumbled forward as if he’d been shot in the back. Instead of Sophia’s fire engulfing him, it wrapped him in an embrace similar to the vines that were loosening from Heath’s neck, hands and feet.
“How do you like it?” he heard Sophia murmur, standing over the man who was now writhing on the ground.
Heath pulled the rest of the weakened vines from him. “Let him live,” he commanded, knowing this man had information they needed. “We’re going to want to talk to him.”
Sophia scowled, but complied. The flames died down, and the man stopped screaming.
“Handcuffs?” he called to the officers. They had cuffs suited to weres and other creatures—they even had a room at the station where they could lock up werewolves during the full moon, the time when they were the most dangerous.
A jingling pair of cuffs whistled his way. He looked down to find the man already lying on his stomach, curling flames that read, douchebag dying down from where they’d branded his back.
At his admonishing look, Sophia shrugged innocently.
“How do you get fire to lessen, anyway?” he asked, locking the man’s hands together. Sebastian had said it wasn’t possible when he helped Raphael train his powers.
Sophia grinned. “Play with fire enough, and it will listen to you. It took me over fifty years to get my element to cooperate, and it doesn’t always obey.”
A flame rose up indignantly from the grass, as if it had heard her words. “Like any other element, adrenaline helps with control. When I need it to behave a certain way, it always does.” Satisfied, the fire went out.
Heat
h shook his head, glad water wasn’t sentient, as he now suspected fire was.
“Good thing you kept one alive,” the female shapeshifter said grimly as she approached them. “The rest are dead. What do you have, a flamethrower?” she asked Sophia.
She held up the Zippo. “Just this.”
The officer barked out a laugh. “You weres are friggin crazy,” she exclaimed. “I’m Charlotte, and my partner over there’s Raj. We tend to be called in on strange cases like this.”
“I can imagine,” Heath said dryly. The NOPD were some of the best officers in the country. He had no doubt even the humans on the force knew what creatures were out there.
“Heath?” Sophia sidled up beside him, allowing him to bear a slight amount of her weight. He knew it was a huge concession for her, a sign of her trust as well as the depth of her injuries. He curled his arm around her waist and squeezed her hip.
“Why were those men after you?” she asked him softly, her gaze imploring.
“We’d like to know as well,” Charlotte said seriously, rubbing where a bullet had grazed her calf. “Someone could have easily been caught and killed in the crosshairs of this—we need to know whether to expect a repeat.”
Heath’s arm was sore, his leg bleeding, throbbing from his knee and bullet wound. The Fey were going to come after Sophia. They didn’t need the added danger of weres stalking him with deadly intent.
He wanted to tear the nearby tree apart, to exert his unused powers on a large body of water, to scream in the injustice of the macabre nightmare his life had turned into.
But he held it all in, instead kissing Sophia’s temple. Soon, he wouldn’t be near her, a status that wouldn’t change.
He couldn’t put her in more danger, and that meant a permanent separation. Together, they were asking for death, the targets on their backs becoming beacons.
Because it was clear someone was out to kill him, and Heath knew they wouldn’t stop until he was dead or he’d killed each and every person who’d signed his death warrant.
Either way, there was too much blood to be shed, and it sickened him.
“I don’t know,” he answered, watching the man who’d been seconds away from strangling him. Black script charred his skin, its intent almost making him smile. “But we’re about to find out.”
Chapter 8
AIYANNA and Mary met them in front of the firehouse, Raj having called Aiyanna on their drive over.
Heath pulled his battered bike from the back of the officers’ SUV while Raj and Charlotte lifted their surviving assailant, who Heath had knocked unconscious a few blocks back.
Aiyanna rushed toward Heath, his injuries much more severe than Sophia’s. She knew he’d broken something in his leg when the car hit them, and later he’d been shot in that same leg’s thigh, not to mention whatever damage the vines had inflicted. She was confident he didn’t realize how much he was bleeding because he growled at the shapeshifter, baring his teeth.
“Sophia first,” he ordered, watching the limp, cuffed man Raj was bringing inside in a fireman’s carry.
Sophia was fine. Her arm was most definitely broken, as well as a few ribs, and she had some gnarly bruises to come thanks to the air elemental Heath had kindly squished—she couldn’t wait to find out how he’d pulled that off—but she was nowhere near as injured as Heath. He was losing blood by the minute; she wasn’t.
“She can’t touch me until you’re no longer bleeding.” Sophia crossed her arms across her chest. She loved chivalry…when it didn’t involve her man bleeding in front of her.
Heath snarled all kinds of curses, making Mary blush bright red, but he acquiesced, letting Aiyanna heal him only enough to stop his bleeding before he insisted she tend to Sophia.
“I’m not a nurse, asshat,” Aiyanna grumbled, spreading one hand on Sophia’s arm, and another on her ribcage. Instantly, the gnawing pain lessened, fading rapidly.
“I’m about to come for you, dog, and I expect you to cooperate, or I’ll tie your intestines into a pretty bow.” Aiyanna was angry, but Sophia was delighted. She didn’t doubt the healer would make good on her promise.
Apparently, neither did Heath. He allowed her to finish healing him, the energy draining from her visibly, without complaint. His green eyes were shadowed, troubled when Aiyanna rose unsteadily, though much of the strain in Heath’s body seemed to have been relieved.
Theo walked outside, making a beeline for Aiyanna. He lifted her into his arms, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh. “Remember, a bow,” she said over Theo’s shoulder as he carried her in.
Heath only frowned.
“Raphael’s calling the Elders,” Mary said from where she sat on the stoop. “Weres can’t just infiltrate New Orleans with assassins, especially given your freedom.”
What? “You’re free now?” she exclaimed. “But your powers—”
Heath shot Mary a dark look. “Thanks for the shirt,” he all but spat at her, storming inside without a glance at either of them.
Mary shifted uncomfortably, absently pulling the end of her long, white-blonde braid over her shoulder. “Well, I made a mess of that,” she murmured regretfully.
“He’s really free?” Excitement lanced through Sophia, erasing her shock at his strange reaction to Mary’s words. From what Sebastian had told her, no one had been freed, not in the six hundred years since Heath had been imprisoned. He was the first were in the clan prohibitum, followed by Raphael.
Raphael was free now, possessing all four elements and able to leave the city. Mating with Mary had freed him, not a decision made by their past lupus dux or the Elders, the body of six men and women who reigned over the weres. That Heath had been freed, not from mating but through a conscious decision made by others, meant he was finished serving his time. He was safe to return to his old pack, or to join another.
Heath was no longer a criminal, and now Sebastian, Alexandre and Cael had the chance to be freed as well. Sophia was thrilled—Heath could get his life back, and soon Sebastian would too.
Her brother deserved to be released. His freedom would finally set things right between them, taking her guilt away, and finally allowing Sebastian to move on from what he’d done to Kiril.
So much blood.
She should have been the one to deliver the blows that had left the man incapacitated for almost a year. She’d never forget, couldn’t.
“He is,” Mary said hesitantly.
“Then why doesn’t he have his powers back?” The question came out sharper than she’d intended, but keeping a free were’s powers bound despite his hard-won freedom was wrong on so many levels, Sophia could just spit.
Somehow, she suspected, Jeremiah had done it on purpose. He’d willingly help kidnap human women—she’d seen him glance at them in their chains as if they were nothing more than animals. And now, because of one man’s cruelty, Heath would suffer.
So will Sebastian. The pain she felt for Heath was growing, taking her breath away. They don’t deserve this.
Despite it all, Heath had agreed to help her, to risk le marché noir without the abilities he deserved. And then two cars full of men had tried to assassinate him.
Even compared to her Fey problem, Heath had drawn the proverbial short stick. He almost always kept silent and rarely smiled, but if she’d been in his shoes, her mood would’ve been much worse. Thinking of all the things Heath had to be pissed about, all the wasted years, Sophia decided he was downright jolly.
“What you need to know,” Mary’s bright green eyes were intent, “is the Elders agree that he should have his powers back.”
Sophia nodded in agreement.
Footsteps sounded around the corner, and Leila came up, hugging Mary and then Sophia and handing her two packages: one bag filled with the still-wet clothes she and Heath had worn earlier, and the jacket Heath had given her in the other, freshly dry-cleaned and neatly wrapped in plastic.
Sophia tr
ied to pay her back, but Leila only waved her money away. We’re in this pack too, you know, she signed. We help each other.
Next to her, tears formed in Mary’s eyes.
Sophia hugged them both again, smiling. Leila was right—this was more than simply a pack of criminals. The firehouse was home to a true family, with the same fierce loyalty that could be found in any pack worth its salt.
Walking inside the firehouse, Sophia had a new respect for the place. These men didn’t cause others to recoil in fear, but rather, drew them in, finding love for Mary and Leila, friendship for Aiyanna. Sebastian was hard on his assistant, but he would do anything for Harry, and any one of those who worked for him at Full Moon.
Her anger was still seething, curling in her gut, but Sophia was also damned proud of what this pack had turned into.
Sophia, Mary, and Leila waited in the living room for Sebastian, who was supposed to bring take-out for everyone. Soon Aiyanna and Theo joined them, followed by Cael and Alexandre.
Heath conspicuously kept his distance; Sophia could sense he was in the house, but he made no moves to join the boisterous debate in the den regarding what channels to buy on their new smart TV.
“Get everything,” Aiyanna drawled, waving her hand. “I’ll watch it, too, so be sure to at least get those Korean shows I like.”
Theo frowned. “Why would you be over here?”
Aiyanna’s eyes flicked toward Cael, almost imperceptively. She shrugged. “I like coming over here. They always have decent food, their TV is much better than mine and it’s never boring. Not to mention none of these guys are terrible to look at.”
Leila smiled broadly, nodding enthusiastically. Alexandre winked at her, casually resting his arm behind her shoulders.
Theo reacted much differently. “If you’re with me, you have no reason to be here.”
Cael stiffened in his seat, his face a mask of fury. To his credit, he said nothing, though he looked ready to snap at any moment, his control brittle to the trained eye.
Sophia understood. She had a hard time reining in her temper too.
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