Kresley sucked in a breath, the woman’s emotions rushing over her like a hard blast of wind. “She’s telling the truth,” Kresley said to Lucan. “I believe Adrian has her brother.” And then to Tara, “Why? What does he want from you?”
Cullen reached up to touch the blade, speaking to Lucan. “For us to kill each other, the Wolf and the Knight of White, two of his most deadly enemies. Which you seem pretty damn determined to make happen.” His eyes met Lucan’s, and Kresley could barely breathe with the crackle of energy that shot off the two of them and bounced off every corner of the room.
“Killing demons is what I do,” Lucan said surely. “You’re a demon.”
“All Demons are not the same, Knight,” Cullen finally said. “Adrian has rallied a group of rebel wolves against me, those who are against humanity and who promise to follow him when he takes over humanity as its new leader.”
“What?” Kresley gasped. “As its new leader?”
“Which is why I am aiding the efforts to put together a council of nonhumans to fight him,” Tara said. “But we need the wolves and Knights involved.”
“Wolves,” Cullen said, “my wolves, do not kill humans. We live among humans, and have for centuries. We have stayed off the Knights’ radar because we are no threat. Adrian has you killing the very wolves he rallied together, because he wants me to believe the Knights are killing my pack.”
Tara gravely added, “ Adrian was adamant that I was to create distrust between the wolves and the Knights. And I was to do so by tonight.”
“Why tonight?” Kresley asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Because I am meeting with your leader, Jag,” Cullen said solemnly.
“You are meeting with Jag?” Lucan asked, his voice as tight as a whip.
“Call him and confirm,” Cullen challenged. “Adrian is the enemy here, not I.”
Lucan slowly lowered his sword. “Go to the bedroom and get what we came for Kresley,” he said speaking to her but never taking his eyes off Cullen. Commotion sounded outside in the hall before she could move.
“It must be the police,” Kresley whispered.
“Police?” Tara asked urgently. “Why are the police here?”
“Not for us,” Kresley explained, not sure if she should. “Our neighbor. ...not for us.”
She cut Lucan a sideways look, and he responded to her unasked question. “We’ll take care of the police," He said. He’d barely issued the words when the door burst open, and it wasn’t a police officer who entered. It was a wolf, followed by another.
Kresley ran for the bedroom, her injections all she could think about. If she didn’t take a shot and soon, they would all be in trouble. But as she entered the bedroom, she found it as looted as the rest of the apartment, with the suitcases thrown everywhere. She had no hope of finding that injection without some time and effort, and a wolf was climbing in through the window.
She itched to use her fire but didn’t want the tenants in the building to be in danger. The space was too small, flames too easily spread. Surely, Cullen would have the same issue. The hilt of one of the swords stuck out beneath the bed and she started to reach for it.
The wolf was over the top of the bed before she got a good grip. Forced to act, Kresley threw a small, hard fireball at him, aiming at the chest and praying for a direct hit. He yelped, a gun clamoring to the ground. Tara appeared out of nowhere – as in one minute she’d been in the living room, the next picking up the gun. She shot the wolf and some sort of dart hit him. He stumbled. Another wolf came at the window. Tara fired off the remaining darts and the would-be-attacker fell backward, outside the window and onto the fire escape.
Kresley stood there, stunned, mind racing. Tara grabbed her arm. “Come on. We have to get out of here.“
“No,” Kresley said. “I’m staying. You go. Call Jag. Tell him what’s happening.” She squeezed the other woman’s arm. “And Tara. Tell him I have not had my injection. That’s very important. Please. Lives depend on you telling him that. You must reach him.”
Tara hesitated but agreed, heading toward the window. She paused, “Be careful.” And then she was gone.
Kresley turned toward the living room, her fire her only weapon. She didn’t allow herself to look a the clock. She didn’t want to know how much longer it would be before her weapon became a death sentence for anyone and everyone near her.
A problem that quickly became second to the one coming through the window. More wolves. And one of them was Nick.
***
Three large wolves in human form faced off with Lucan and Cullen in a living room so small they might as well have been slow dancing. All three held guns, and since Lucan had seen his share of weapons in three centuries, he placed them as tranqs. They wanted to put them to sleep not kill them, at least not yet, not until they had the ring. He didn’t die easy or he’d be dead already and he damn sure didn’t like going to sleep. He wasn’t comforted. And he wasn’t liking the idea of one of those thing landing somewhere on Kresley’s delicate frame. If they were dosed for wolves, it might kill her. He prayed she was out the window and throwing caution to the wind by calling Jag for help. Because he was trapped like a subway rat with the train already overhead, with nothing he could do to aid her. There was no room to swing a blade and no place to go. He wasn’t putting his sword down without a fight and he Cullen had that ring everyone thought to be so deadly. He’d sure like to see some of that deadly right about now.
As if reading Lucan’s mind, Cullen gave him a show. Fire seemed to implode in one of the wolves’ chests. The gun the wolf held fell from the wolf’s hand and he crumbled the ground. “Go!” Cullen yelled. “Get the women out of here.”
Lucan hesitated, not sure why the hell he didn’t want to leave a demon behind, but he didn’t. The other two wolves went to their knees, grabbing their chests and that was enough for Lucan. He turned to the bedroom and went after Kresley.
A second later, she was shoved into his arms by a wolf – shit. Nick. He barely clung to his sword. “Going somewhere?” the wolf asked. “The fun is just getting started.”
Lucan pulled Kresley close with his free arm, palmed his sword with the other. They turned back to the room, looking for another exit. Too late. More wolf’s charged the door and plummeted Cullen’s chest with darts. Cullen fell like a rock to the ground and hit his head on the coffee table.
Kresley gasped at the hard connect as blood spurted from his head. But the action wasn’t over. One of the wolves dove at Cullen’s body and reached for the ring. The instant he touched that little jewel, the wolf grabbed his chest and started shaking. He collapsed across Cullen’s body, his chest imploding with fire.
Lucan felt like a vice had grabbed his throat and wouldn’t let go. Would that happen to Kresley if she tried to take the ring? He had no plans to find out.
“Idiot,” Nick spat, staring at the dead wolf. He eyed the rest of the wolves – of which there were four crammed into the tiny space. “I told you both the ring protects him when he cannot protect himself.”
A wolf stepped from the hallway and stared at the body draped across Cullen’s. He laughed. “Alexander always was an idiot.”
Nick grimaced, “Thank you Jess,” he said sarcastically, “for that brilliant observation. Is the building locked down?”
“All done,” he agreed. “Cops tied up in the apartment next door.”
“Bring one of them here,” Nick stated. “Throw a few bullets in their legs. We need to give the firestarter some incentive to take off that ring.”
“No!” Kresley yelled. “No. Please. Don’t hurt anyone. We don’t even know if I can remove it. I might die like that wolf just did.”
“We won’t know until we try,” Nick said. “But I’ll be easy on you. I’ll start with your boyfriend.” A bullet slammed into Lucan’s shoulder and this was no tranquilizer. It was cold, biting steel that splintered pain across his back. Then another bullet. Then another. His shoulder shoo
k. So did his legs right before they buckled. Nick seemed pleased adding, “Once he’s bled to death, we’ll go get one of your neighbors to play with.”
Kresley dropped to the floor with Lucan. “Oh God. Oh Lucan. I’m so sorry.” Anther bullet hit his shoulder. A bone shattered he was pretty damn sure. He flinched and grabbed Kresley’s hand, pulled her close, not wanting anyone else to hear. She pressed her cheek to his. It was wet. “Immortal,” he whispered. “Won’t die. Don’t. Don’t. Take ring off.” The Seers words came back to him. “Please… Baby. Please. Don’t. Do it.” Another bullet hit his leg. He tried to hold onto Kresley but he couldn’t. She was gone. She was gone. Where was she? No. Blackness. His eyes would not work. No! He had to save her. Save. Kresley. He wasn’t suppose to let her die.
If you takeoff that ring off it will destroy you. The words repeated in his head. He went blank.
***
Kresley had felt fear in her life, mostly fear of hurting others. But she realized, as of this moment, that she had never known real fear. Never breathed it into her lungs, never felt it pebble in a light sheen across her skin – never, until this day.
The man who was meant to be her mate, who quite possibly she was in love with for reasons beyond that, was lying on the floor in excruciating pain. At any moment, a human could be pulled through the door and tortured to leverage her actions, and since she had not had her shot, and she had no idea how much time had passed, none of this might matter – they might all soon be in flames. The Guardians could not take her to hell. She was there.
“Remove the ring,” Nick ordered and cocked the gun again. “Do it now.”
“All right!” she yelled and walked to Cullen’s body. She bent down.
“Do it!” Nick yelled back at her.
“Give me a minute, damn it!” Kresley shouted. She never cursed, but she wanted to curse again. She had to think. Did she have the ability to take out all of these wolves without letting innocents get killed? Because if she took this ring off and gave it to Nick, innocents would be killed. Nick would be a nightmare to humanity. She had to try to stop him. Lucan had said the purpose of her fire was to do good, to stop evil. If she could stop Nick, that would be stopping evil. She clung to that thought.
She reached for Cullen’s hand, covered the ring, but did not try to remove it. She wanted Nick to believe she intended to. She felt a charge go through her body, power emanating from the ring, as if it were alive, scanning her, searching for what threat she represented to Cullen. She refused to acknowledge the fear trying to tear down her mind.
The ring was not her enemy; Cullen was not her enemy. The wolves standing to the right of her were her enemies. She pictured those enemies in her mind, visualized what she’d seen the ring do to the wolves as she’d watched from the doorway, the way it had exploded fire inside their chests so that the fire didn’t spread. She pictured it with every bit of memory, every bit of will, she possessed. And whether it was her own doing, or the ring's power, one of the wolves shouted out and grabbed his chest. Then another. Yes! She screamed that word over and over in her mind as she destroyed the enemies. One by one the wolves fell.
Fearful that Nick would lash out at Lucan, she pushed to her feet and whirled around to face him. But he was gone. She didn’t go after him.
Instead she went to Lucan’s side, touching his face as he murmured her name. Her heart twisted in knots.
She grabbed the cell phone off his belt and dialed the ranch. Jag answered immediately.
“Oh thank God. Jag. It’s Kresley. We need you.” She hung up the phone and held her breath, waiting for the Guardians to attack. But there was no attack. Only help arrived – first Jag orbed into the room, then Marisol.
As Marisol bent down to heal Lucan, Jag orbed out of the room– to get more help, she assumed. She watched as Marisol held her hand over Lucan’s wounds, a healing glow radiating off her palm.
Out of the corner of her eye, a syringe captured her attention. It was shoved beneath the couch, within arm's reach this entire time. Her injection! How could she forget?
She reached for it, her gaze going to the clock. She still had an hour. An hour until her fire blazed out of control. Her fire had saved lives today. It had stopped that ring from getting into the wrong hands. She would not view it as a curse any longer.
Lucan murmured something – her name. She shoved the syringe into her pocket. She would not let fear control her either.
She focused on Lucan, watched as he blinked her into focus. “Kresley.” He sat upright, looked around. “Marisol?”
“Yes,” Marisol said, her long brown hair cloaking her shoulders, her brilliant green eyes—the eyes of a Healer – glowing with happiness at the reunion. “It me, Marisol. And the Knights will soon be here as well.”
She glanced at Cullen and then back at Lucan. “I'd better go help the Wolf. He has a nasty cut on his head.” She smiled at Kresley. “But he still possesses a certain, very powerful ring, instead of Adrian, thanks to Kresley.”
Lucan grabbed Kresley and kissed her, pulled her close. He ran his hand over her hair. “You’re okay?”
“Yes,” she said, touching his face, needing to touch him, to know he was safe. “It hurt so badly seeing them shoot you like that.”
“That doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’re safe. The ring is safe and you saved lives. Those are the things that matter.”
“Hello Lucan.” It was Jag’s voice.
Kresley didn’t look up, but she could tell he was in the doorway to the bedroom. Instead, she watched Lucan’s face, saw the shock register, the dread, the hope. He kissed her and then pushed to his feet, turning to face the leader he so respected.
“Hello Jag.” He said the name as if he thought he would never say it again. She felt the doubt in him, the fear that he could not make peace with the past.
But Kresley wasn’t afraid of Jag’s refusal to accept Lucan, or of him offering forgiveness. She’d looked into Jag’s eyes. She’d seen the pride in him when he’d looked down at Lucan’s broken body before Marisol had healed him. He knew Lucan was a Knight at heart, that Lucan was willing to die to protect those in need.
No. It was not Jag’s acceptance Lucan had to overcome. It was still that deal he’d made a year before – he belonged to the Guardians. And in a only a few days, so would she.
Chapter Twenty
Hours after the attack in the apartment, Lucan and Jag stood inside the living room area of the Ritz suite, having yet to manage a private conversation. The waiting was pure torture for Lucan, but unavoidable as activity at the apartment had invited more chaos than conversation.
At present they were meeting with Cullen, with the rebel wolves as the topic of conversation. Kresley was in the bedroom in deep conversation with Marisol, catching up on the ranch activity, and he was pleased to see her smiling. Not as pleased about an upcoming reunion, or rather uneasy about it – Rock, Max, and Des were to arrive any minute. Lucan didn’t know what to expect from the reunion. Would he be able to look them in the eyes?
"The issue is not my willingness to oversee the Council,” Cullen stated, standing hands on his hips, the sun at his back through the open curtains. “But I cannot focus on winning their confidence when my own pack does not have mine. I must flush out these rebels.”
“Then you will need help,” Jag stated simply. “My Knights will fight with you.”
Cullen stared at Jag, unblinking, sizing him up. No surprise in his expression, though Lucan had no doubt that he was as stunned by the offer as Lucan himself. “You would fight by the side of a Demon?”
Jag slid a thoughtful hand over his goatee, studied Cullen a moment. “I believe we want the same things. Peace. A common good.” He paused. “And to see Adrian burn in hell.”
Cullen’s eyes went wide, and then he and Jag laughed. Lucan did not laugh. He could not overcome his dislike of any wolf so easily, not after watching them murder humans. And not after watching Cullen make love to Kresley;real or
imagined – it had been torture to endure.
A knock sounded on the door and Lucan took the reprieve. He yanked the door open and Tara stood there. “Hi,” she said. “Cullen said I should come here.”
“Yes,” Cullen called. “In here.”
But Tara didn’t move. She stepped to the side to allow a companion to show himself. Lucan’s hand tightened on the doorknob with a vise-like grip. The stranger from the night before at the apartment appeared, the one who had killed the wolves.
At least six foot six, and as broad as he was tall, the stranger took another step forward. This time his face was not painted – he intended Lucan to know who, and what, he was. Lucan blinked at what that pale face revealed, at the unexpected vision of the wings tattoo slicing across high cheekbones, and brushing the edge of a straight nose.
“Give us a moment, Tara,” Lucan finally said, easing back enough to allow her to slip past, and she wasted no time doing so.
The hallway light began to flicker, as if this stranger sucked out its juice, stole the electricity that allowed it to have life. He had a way of doing that, Lucan thought, of taking life.
Lucan’s narrowed his eyes on the stranger, his mind tracking the legends, of centuries of whispers, the kind one assumes are more fiction than reality. But now he knew – the Fae were not mere fiction, neither were they Angels or Demons.
“I guess you save the makeup for Demon-slaying parties,” Lucan commented dryly.
The stranger’s lips lifted, his strange swirling eyes hinting at amusement. “Does add to the assassin effect, don’t you think?”
“Here I thought I was the assassin in this city.” Lucan narrowed his gaze on the man. “Who are you?”
“My friends call me Prince Risen.”
His brow inched upward. “And your enemies.”
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