Cimmerian Shade: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy Collection

by Kiki Howell

  With a deep howl, part pain, part triumph, Willem dropped to the ground, a sleek grey wolf, with hatred in his yellow eyes. The knife hung from him, and with a shake, he dislodged it. Blood ran down his fur, dripping on the ground. So, the wound had been deep, but not fatal.

  From the ridge, Caine heard rustling and whining, growls and branches breaking. The pack was advancing. He and Malachi would soon be surrounded.

  Scrambling to his feet, Caine faced Willem. But Willem was walking around the edge of the clearing, heading for the door of the hut. Heading for Malachi.

  Panic seized Caine, and he fought to control his racing heart. He closed his eyes, as hard as it was to take his eyes from Willem. Focusing all his energy, he found Malachi, standing in the doorway, eyes locked on Willem. He could feel Malachi’s energy, knew what the old man was trying to do.

  Caine reached out, melding his mind with Malachi’s. The connection rocked him on his feet, but he held on, sending all the power he could toward Willem.

  Willem whined suddenly, and Caine saw in his mind’s eye that the wolf had stopped, had started backing away from Malachi. He saw the beehive he and Malachi had conjured, the bees flying in a dark mass, circling Willem, descending to sting his face. The wolf’s whine rose, as he shook his head, ducking and dodging the invisible insects, swiping at his muzzle with his paw.

  Willem backed further away, yellow eyes locked on Malachi. Caine opened his eyes, watching in amazement, as the wolf shook his head, still pawing at the invisible bees. Caine wasn’t certain how long he could maintain the illusion; his strength was waning quickly. Malachi still stood, ramrod straight, eyes closed, intently focused on his task, and on Willem.

  An image tickled Caine’s mind, and he broke contact with Malachi. The bees faded from his mind, and he was horrified, as Willem took a step forward. But Malachi’s voice filled his mind.

  “This I can do. Do what you must.”

  Caine let the image sharpen. Wolves, behind him. Many, many wolves. He spun around. They were advancing in the dark, shapes and shadows coming over the lip of the ridge. He didn’t need his mind to see them; they were all too real.

  Running forward, Caine grabbed the knife. It was a paltry defense against a pack, but it gave him a tangible sense of relief to have a weapon in his hand. As strong as his mind felt, and he knew the power he could wield, his doubts were beginning to surface. Doubts about his strength, about his abilities, about being able to defeat Willem, and his pack.

  The first wolf was upon him, its slavering jaws snapping, as it lunged. Caine caught the wolf by the scruff of its neck, lifting it from the ground, holding it inches from his face. The animal scrabbled with its back feet, claws raking Caine’s legs.

  With a mighty twist, Caine twisted the wolf’s head, heard the sickening snap, as its neck broke, and then felt the body go limp in his hands. He flung the body toward the next wolf charging him, succeeding only in slowing down the wolf for a step or two. Then it was on him, coming in low, fangs snapping at his torso and lower, intent on disemboweling him, or worse.

  The knife hit home almost before Caine realized he’d swung his arm. The wolf fell to the ground at his feet, pulling Caine with him. He grabbed the hilt with both hands, planting one foot on the back of the wolf, pushing the knife home, all his weight behind the thrust. The wolf jerked, trying to bite Caine, then shuddered once, before lying still.

  Caine bent his head, struggling to pull the knife free. But it was buried to the hilt, stuck fast. He cursed loudly, standing, kicking the wolf away from him. More were advancing, each eyeing him, jockeying for position.

  Every instinct screamed run, but Caine held his ground. He shut out the growls of the wolves, the scent of blood in the air, every distraction. He forced his eyes closed, forced his mind into calm, and waited.

  In his mind, the vision was there, the wolves clearer than reality. He grabbed one by the scruff of the neck, shook it violently, and flung it back into the pack. The wolves hesitated, looking at the fallen body of their mate, then back to Caine. For a brief moment, he held them in thrall.

  But the moment shattered. Malachi’s cry broke his concentration. Caine whirled, just as Willem lunged at the vampire. In that instant, Caine knew Malachi’s strength had finally failed. Malachi fell to the floor, one hand raised to ward off the attack. Caine saw in Malachi’s face the vampire had no more to give, that he was ready for the end.

  Caine ran toward them, throwing his body at the wolf. They collided outside the doorway, rolling down to the path below. Willem’s fangs sank into Caine’s shoulder. Searing heat flooded his arm, followed by cold. His fingers went numb, his arm all, but useless. But he held on with the other, pushing Willem’s head away from his body. He wound his legs around the wolf’s body, hugging him tightly, his hand now closed around the snapping muzzle.

  For a moment, they were locked together like lovers, then Willem jerked violently against him. Caine felt warm blood flow over him, and blood ran between Willem’s clenched teeth over Caine’s face. Confusion blossomed in Caine’s mind, as he released Willem, and he rolled away with a high-pitched whine.

  Caine sat up. An arrow was lodged in Willem’s side. The wolf staggered to his feet, turning back toward Caine, fangs snapping, ready to mount another attack. But Willem was weak, and Caine saw it in the wolf’s eyes.

  Jumping up, Caine grabbed the arrow, wrenching it from the wolf’s body. Before Willem’s snapping jaws could clamp down on him, Caine drove the arrow through Willem’s body. He felt the point slide briefly along a rib, before hitting home, spearing the animal’s heart.

  Willem threw his head back, a gargled howl emerging. Caine twisted the arrow, drove it deeper, and the sound died in a river of blood.

  Caine crouched, looking into the forest for the attacker wielding a bow. He spied her, high on the ridge, a small woman, maybe even a young girl, with short flaming red hair. She was watching him, and as their eyes met she raised her bow, a warrior’s cry bursting from her lips. Another cry joined hers, male this time, and then a third, and they echoed off the ridge.

  Then Caine’s mind was filled with dozens of voices, calling to him, to each other, battle cries loudest of them all. The sounds were overwhelming, and he clamped his hands over his ears, eyes clamped shut.

  Suddenly Malachi was at his side, hand on his arm. “Caine, look.” Malachi pointed. Caine raised his head, following the direction of Malachi’s finger.

  Through the woods they came, some with bows and arrows, more with knives, some with axes. They moved through the wolves as easily as water around rocks, stabbing and hacking at them, as they went. The wolves howled and cried out, and fell beneath the blows. The people moved toward the hut, the last of the wolves fleeing through the forest, chased by smaller groups carrying weapons.

  Caine took an involuntary step back. The energy of these beings crashed into him, and again his mind was filled with their voices.

  The red-haired girl ran to him, a grim smile on her pixie-like face. She placed a hand on her arm, and suddenly it was clear to him. He knew who they were before she spoke. “Caine. We are here...for you.”

  HE STARED AT HER FOR a moment. More arrived and he looked at each face, saw in them brothers and sisters like himself. They were Nequam.

  “No, not Nequam. We are the Fortis.”

  He looked down at the woman. She had read his mind, effortlessly. “Fortis? You are like me though.”

  “We are the same. We call ourselves the Fortis...the warriors. The Seethe calls us Nequam.” She spat out the word. “The name meaning worthless. We chose our own name.”

  A tall woman stepped forward. “We heard the cry for help. We came.” More of them stepped forward, echoing her words.

  Malachi moved beside him, and Caine turned. “Malachi, you said nothing about this.” Caine waved his hand toward the group.

  “I knew nothing. I would have held on longer had I suspected.” Malachi looked over the group, then bowed his head. “But
I do sincerely appreciate them.”

  “Then whose cry did you heed, if not mine or Malachi’s?” Caine looked over the men, and women standing before him. There was a low murmur, glances exchanged, but no one answered him.

  “They answered my call.”

  Caine whirled. Gabriel stood at the edge of the clearing. Beside him, was Natalya. She ran to Caine, and he caught her against him. For a moment, thoughts of wolves and Fortis and Malachi...even Gabriel, were gone from his mind. Caine’s entire focus was on the woman in his arms, the woman he thought he might never see again. She raised her face to his, and he met her lips roughly, crushing her mouth with his own, needing her warmth to penetrate his heart once again; to let him know everything would be as it should be. His fingers tangled in her hair, while the other hand reached around to her lower back, pulling her into his strong embrace. His body hummed in a wash of relief, and satisfaction that the woman he so desperately loved was alive; was here with him once more.

  There was a not-so-subtle cough behind Natalya’s back. She pulled away, smiling, but stayed in the confines of her lover’s arms.

  Gabriel stood, clothes torn and bloodied, hair matted with dirt and leaves. Caine felt a rush of anger well up, and if it were not for Natalya in his arms, he would have struck the vampire to the ground on the spot.

  “Caine...” Natalya raised a hand to his face. “Listen first. Decide later.”

  Caine looked down at her. “Are you reading my mind now, too? I’m not sure how many more creatures can fit in there.” He glanced at Gabriel. “Care to explain yourself, traitor?”

  “I can see how you come to that conclusion, Caine. Let me assure you that you were the last creature I’d care to save, but it seems fate has played a joke on us.”

  “And what exactly do all those pretty words mean, Gabriel?”

  “It means, Caine, brother of mine, we are on the same side now.”

  Caine tensed. “We will never be on the same side. And I am not your brother. Lest you forget, you’ve tried to kill me. More than once.”

  “And you tied me up and left me, practically naked, in a circle of aconite. But I’m willing to let that fall into the past.”

  Caine looked at Natalya. “Do you know what this idiot is trying to say? He’s trying my patience.”

  “He’s trying to say he’s Nequam...Fortis. Like you. Like them.” She gestured toward the group, who stood in mute confusion, watching the exchange.

  Caine closed his eyes for a moment. Then he looked down at Natalya. “You cannot mean Gabriel is Fortis.”

  “She means just that, Caine. And it means we have all been betrayed by the Seethe, including Natalya.”

  Caine shot a sharp look at Gabriel. “I wasn’t talking to you. But explain.”

  Gabriel leaned against a nearby tree, his expression solemn. “The Seethe Mistress sent Willem after you because you killed his pack mates. That much, you already know. She also cast Natalya out of the Seethe, effectively signing her death warrant, because she chose to leave with you. Willem’s plans were to kill me, which he almost did, then to kill you, kill her, and probably kill Malachi for good measure, just to tie up loose ends.”

  He nodded toward Natalya. “She found me, and saved my life. Before that, I managed, with the last of my strength, to call the Fortis.”

  A murmur rose up among the group. The red-haired woman stepped toward Gabriel. “We heard the call, and we answered. And we are ready to continue.” She turned to Caine. “We are ready to follow you, wherever you lead us.”

  Caine frowned. “Lead you? I’m not leading anyone anywhere. I am done...we are done, here, this night.”

  Gabriel growled, and Caine shot him a glance. “Is there something else you wish to say, Gabriel?”

  “This was not the war, Caine...this was just the beginning. There is a far greater battle ahead.”

  “And what battle is that?”

  The Fortis took a collective step toward Caine, a babble of voices rising around him. “The Seethe. Overthrowing the Mistress. Righting the wrongs that she’s gotten away with for centuries.”

  Caine watched with rising alarm, as the Fortis crowded around him. He glanced at Gabriel, frowning at the amused look on his face.

  “Your adoring followers, Caine. Enjoy it.”

  Caine gently set a confused Natalya aside. He took a step toward Gabriel. His fingers itched to grab the front of Gabriel’s tunic, to pull the smug bastard close, to finish what Willem had started. Instead, he hissed at him. “Just what did you tell them? What exactly did you tell this...rabble?”

  Gabriel leaned forward, his lips close to Caine’s ear. “I told them that you were sent by the Gods to save them. To defeat the Mistress. To bring them back into the Seethe.” He stepped back, looking into Caine’s eyes, one eyebrow raised, a smug smile on his face.

  “I told them you were the new leader of the Fortis.”

  Chapter Twelve

  CAINE AND NATALYA retreated to Malachi’s hut. The ancient vampire had wrapped his robes around himself and disappeared, along with Gabriel, and the Fortis. Natalya had started to voice her concern, but Caine raised his hand. Let them all fend for themselves. He was beyond tired, beyond caring about anyone, other than Natalya.

  “Natalya, enough. Malachi can take care of himself. The Fortis live in the forest. And as far as Gabriel...” He shook his head. “I can’t raise much concern for Gabriel at the moment.”

  Caine sat on the bed, kicking off his boots. Natalya had fussed over his physical wounds, but even she could see they were healing. But his mind was wiped clean, and he was exhausted in a way he could never have imagined possible. And there was nothing Natalya could do for that.

  It was an hour before sunrise, and he was already feeling the irresistible pull of sleep. He stood, pulling Natalya toward him.

  “Come, sleep with me.” He bent his head, brushing her lips with his. She responded, wrapping her arms around his neck. He slid one hand behind her head, fingers tangling in her hair. He ran his other hand up her dress, cupping her breast, the weight of it filling his palm. He felt her sigh against his mouth. They stood for a long time, the kiss consuming both of them.

  Arousal sprang up, suddenly, unexpectedly, hot and insistent, filling his veins with desire. Maybe there was something she could do for him after all, to dispel his exhaustion.

  She broke away after a moment, her eyes soft, heavy-lidded. Her fingers trailed down his chest, and he watched, as she tugged at the laces of his breeches. She pulled the fabric away from his body, reaching down with cool fingers to touch him.

  He closed his eyes, letting her fan the flames growing inside him with her touch. His breath caught in his throat, as her fingers closed around him, an involuntary sound coming from him, her touch more forceful as she stroked him. Unbidden, his hips moved forward, seeking more from her.

  His hand still clutched her breast, possessively kneading, his thumb skimming across her nipple. She gasped, and he smiled, and then her grip tightened further, and he thought he would lose his mind.

  “Natalya...” He held her face in his hands, leaning down to devour her mouth with his, her body pressed against him. He broke the kiss with a harsh noise, hands tugging at the laces of her clothes, pulling the bodice of her dress away from her breasts. He looked down at her, his hands rising again, fondling her soft flesh.

  Natalya released him, and pushed the dress over her hips, letting it pool on the floor at her feet. She tugged at Caine’s breeches and they fell, joining the dress.

  Caine pushed her back on the bed, climbing on after her. She lay back, lips parted, her eyes locked with his. He knelt between her knees, eyes taking in every seductive, beautiful inch of her lying before him.

  The sun was rising. Without needing to see the sky, he could sense the light growing stronger, on the verge of spilling over the ridge toward the hut.

  With a feral cry, Caine fell on Natalya, felt her legs part beneath him. He pressed her into the mattress,
mouth crushing hers in a kiss.

  She shifted beneath him again, her thighs sliding along his torso, as she opened herself to him. He wasted no time, thrusting hard into her, taking her as his.

  Natalya bucked and arched beneath him, the urgency between them not only fueled by the imminent dawn, but now by their shared desire, their passion, their love.

  Caine was a creature at the mercy of the sensations swirling through his body, the feel of Natalya’s breasts crushed against his chest, her silken legs wrapped around him. Above all, was the glorious feel of being buried within Natalya, thrusting hard, over and over, into the hot center of her, feeling her moving in response. Her breath grew ragged, matching his, as it tore from his throat. Her sighs and moans were music to him.

  The room melted around him, as he thrust again, his mind shattering, his body beyond his control. He cried out, head thrown back, his release all-consuming, a fire moving through him, spending himself in her body.

  From a distance, he was aware of Natalya’s cries, her body arching up to meet his thrusts. Her legs held him tight against her body, as she contracted around him, pulling him further into her molten core.

  With a final thrust, he buried himself and stayed there. Natalya slowly relaxed beneath him, her legs falling to the mattress, gasping against his shoulder.

  The sun broke through the horizon, as he pulled away from her. She was already slipping into sleep, as was Caine, and it was all he could do to pull the course sheets around their bodies. He closed his eyes, and gave himself over to oblivion.

  “CAINE. CAINE, WAKE up.”

  Natalya leaned over Caine, kissing him softly. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching him wake, his eyes barely open. He smiled, and reached up to touch her cheek.

  “Natalya. Is it sunset already? I could sleep for a week.” He sat up, running a hand through his hair. Then he reached for her, pulling her beside him. His hands strayed over her body, and she felt him hesitate, as he encountered her dress. She let him kiss her for a moment, then pushed him gently away.