The Hunt: Complete Edition

by Anne Marsh

  “Femi,” he begins.

  We’re going to make it! Welcome daylight spills down over my face, the light so blinding after the temple’s perpetual dusk that at first I don’t notice the eyes. When the grille moved, it revealed a deep, low trench cut around the shaft. Where the shadows shift. Slither. Dozens of black eyes stare back at me. And none of them blink.

  Snakes.

  I freeze. Oh Heqet. Dozens of slim black bodies fill the trench, a boiling sea of writhing, reptilian bodies. Flat black eyes meet my panicked gaze.

  “I did tell you,” Jafar says apologetically. “The minute we crossed the threshold of the temple with the necklace, we triggered wards set to prevent thieves from ever making it out of here alive.”

  “Draw your blades,” I cry. “Do something.” The snakes surround the exit, making it impossible for either of us to crawl out the opening. “Damn it, Jafar, you said you knew how to get out. To trust you.”

  “And I do,” he roars. He hooks me by the collar of my tunic, swinging me upward. “Pull your flarestick. Now!”

  I slide the flarestick from my belt. The snakes pause at the blinding light, leaving a small space where I land. Jafar scrambles out of the shaft after me. Our only choice now is to either stand our ground or allow the snakes to drive us back down the dark shaft. All the way down.

  The first snake uncoils and launches itself at me. I fry it with the flarestick before it crosses the line I mentally scratch in the air. One down—I give up counting how many more remain.

  After all, the number of snakes probably exceeds the number of minutes I have left to live.

  As the snakes launch themselves in full-scale attack, harsh, sibilant words pour from the lips of the male behind me. The air pushes out around us in a determined flow of mazhyk and hardens into a sphere.

  I look at him appreciatively as the snakes suddenly stop their advance, sliding off the cocoon of air and light that he has woven.

  “Nice trick.” I stare at the orb. “Care to teach me that one?”

  He shakes his head. “You don’t need it. I would never allow you to face such danger alone.”

  “Right.” Secretly, I revel in the warmth his words impart: he’s chosen me. No one has ever chosen me before. Just maybe I mean more to him than sex. More than mating. He’s doing that trick with his eyes again, the golden glow. I can feel the heat pouring off his skin.

  “They cannot penetrate,” he says, completely unconcerned that the snakes writhe over the orb, seeking a way in.

  “I will always keep you safe,” he repeats. I no longer give a damn about the snakes. Jafar will be more than a match for them. Indeed, as the orb begins to glow with stronger energy, the snakes slither away, apparently repelled by whatever Jafar is doing.

  “Will you really?” I want to say something, explain to him what that means to me.

  The orb winks out, but his eyes continue to glow hotly. “Femi—” he begins.

  Before he can say anything, the first group of Cats bursts onto the cliff top. No wonder there were no further signs of pursuit. The Guardians have gone around the outside of the temple to intercept us.

  JAFAR

  We are trapped.

  I hate making mistakes. Hell, I never make them. So picking this time to start, when it is my mate on the line, does not sit well with me.

  Before I can second-guess myself, I fasten the necklace around her neck.

  “Keep this safe, femi. There’s going to be a fight.” I put both hands on my longswords and it doesn’t escape me that none of the other Guardians back down either. This isn’t a friendly encounter. They are here to stop me. Regretfully, I draw the first blade in a smooth rush of metal, letting the familiar weight of the weapon settle into my palm as I assess the threat.

  Amun Ra hasn’t held anything back. In fact, he’s gone full out.

  Hebon moves to the front of the group blocking our path. I check, but the male’s blades remain safely stowed. Maybe he wants to do a little parley before he gets down to business, but there is no mistaking the look on Hebon’s face.

  Payback will be a bitch.

  “Move out of the way,” I growl.

  “Not a chance.” Hebon strides toward us, stopping only when I pull my other blade and meet the male’s advance with four feet of cold steel.

  “No closer,” I warn. “We’re leaving. I’d rather no one got hurt in the process.” I’d prefer to leave without bloodshed, but if they force me to choose, well, I’ve already made the choice, haven’t I? And I’ve chosen the female at my back.

  Not my brothers.

  MIU

  The attack comes out of nowhere. One minute I’m crouched on the edge of the too-narrow ledge, watching Jafar fight off the Guardians one by one with those lethal swords of his, and the next I’m tumbling over the edge, sharp claws digging into my ankle.

  The sickening sensation of falling is abruptly cut short. I’ve landed on another ledge maybe fifteen feet below the first one. Above me, Jafar roars in outrage.

  The Cat crouching over me shifts back to male form, like night washing over the hills. Hebon. The hot press of his body makes me want to scream. This close, I can smell the pheromones, the palpable anger that consumes him. When I shove him away, however, Hebon’s lean arm shoots out with snakelike rapidity. One arm twists mine behind my back, while the other drags me up against an undeniably hard—and male—body.

  “It was a mistake,” his raspy voice growls into my ear, “to come here for Amun Ra’s treasures. The temple is well guarded, little one. We do not tolerate thieves.”

  I don’t know what Hebon’s deal is, but it’s obvious that he has a very personal bone to pick with temple thieves. Tilting my head back against his chest, I look up into his face. Why are they all so damned good-looking? Hebon smiles slowly and his smile disturbs me more than his threats. “Yes,” he says, “you will get what you deserve here.”

  “I don’t deserve this,” I protest.

  “Not nice to steal,” Hebon remarks casually, halting my awkward scramble toward the edge with a pair of hard arms. With his short hair, he looks, if possible, even colder and more focused than the other Guardians. “Not nice at all.”

  A wicked blade materializes out of his leather boot. Oh, hell.

  “Why kill me now?” I pant. “Your Amun Ra made a deal. He wants what I can bring him.”

  “Which would be what? The male who orders you to thieve, who sent you here to collect this necklace for him?” His fingers reach out and flick the edge of the silver necklace.

  “Yes.” I fight to keep my voice even. Why do I find Jafar so attractive when this Guardian merely scares the hell out of me? “I’m going to give him Lierr.”

  “Right.” Dark eyes examine my face. “Unfortunately, you are not supposed to give Lierr that necklace. Jafar knows that—why else would he have chosen such an inconspicuous route out of the temple? He knows very well that Amun Ra promised a death sentence for anyone who went after this necklace again. No questions asked. Just instant death. You’re still breathing,” he says, looking down at me and answering my unspoken question, “because Amun Ra told me that he wants you. Rather,” he chuckles darkly, “he wants the pleasure of killing you. Made an interesting friend there, female. I’m not sure if I should congratulate you—or commiserate with you. He has some dark tastes. Ones he does not indulge with his lovers. Apparently, he’s decided that you’d make an excellent appetizer. I haven’t decided whether I’ll grant him that request, or if I’ll exercise my right and take your life right here. Right now. First, however, I’ll have the necklace.”

  “The necklace?” I gape at him stupidly, my hands flying up to cover the piece.

  “Take it off,” he orders. “The necklace doesn’t leave the temple. Neither do either of you now.”

  Without the necklace, I have nothing to bargain with. No ransom for Lore. “No,” I protest, but the hard hand wrapping itself around my neck chokes off my words. Pressure slowly cuts off my air unt
il blackness buzzes angrily in my ears. Then he releases his grasp and brings his shortknife up against my throat. The blade scrapes against my skin, leaving a sharp sting and a crimson necklace of tiny pinpricks in its wake.

  “Don’t. Say. No. To. Me. Shall we play, you and I?” He vibrates with anger and my stomach roils with unexpected nausea. He’s going to kill me. His fingers pry mine off the cold metal and there’s literally nothing I can do to stop him. His greater weight holds me pinned to the unyielding ledge, slowly crushing from my lungs what breath remains in me.

  Spots dance in front of my eyes and the necklace’s clasp parts, scratching across my skin. “I’m owed this,” he growls. “More than you could ever imagine. No one—no one—is taking this necklace out of here. Not when people have died for it.”

  Whoever died for it clearly mattered a great deal to Hebon.

  He wraps an arm around my throat and I pry at his golden skin with my hands. “Don’t fight me.” His sigh ruffles my hair. “There’s only one way for this to end, female, and you won’t enjoy it.”

  The hands around my throat tighten and the breath rushes from my body.

  I realize with heart-stopping certainty that I won’t be rescuing anyone from Lierr.

  I’m dying.

  JAFAR

  Rage consumes me.

  The mating bond takes over. Miu is mine.

  I methodically take down the pride of Guardians standing against me. Although killing them is still not my intention, I’ve left more than one set of injuries behind me and feral satisfaction floods me when I consider the damage I’ve inflicted. They will not prevent me from taking my mate out of the temple.

  Still, my brothers have inflicted damage of their own. Some fight me in wereform, while others attack with blades. I see regret in some eyes, caution in others. The raw tide of emotion keeps me going, however, emotion that connects me to Miu. I know when Hebon pulls her over the side. Only my thready awareness of her through our bond keeps me from shifting and destroying the pride.

  She is in danger.

  I have to finish this. The breath tears from my chest in harsh pants. Sweat slicks my forehead and trickles down the thick muscles of my abdomen. “Come on,” I taunt the Guardian nearest me, inviting him to join the deadly dance of blades and fists. When the male advances, I sweep my leg up, clipping my opponent under the chin and knocking the male backward. Another warrior promptly takes his place.

  The blade rises and falls in a starkly disciplined sweep. A fine dance between life and death until my awareness of Miu flickers like a light being put out. The bond between us stretches, thinning.

  Hell.

  She is dying.

  With a roar, I force my way over the side.

  MIU

  The fuzzy outline of the temple dances in front of my eyes, followed by the vague sensation of hands being wrenched away from my throat. Abruptly, I’m pulled behind something large and solid. Sucking in air through my raw throat, I hear the brutal sound of flesh meeting flesh. A blade flashes and flies through the air in a dizzying arc. Hebon falls away.

  “Hold on, femi,” a voice growls in my ear. “We’re going down.”

  Right. Breathing is agony, as I suck desperately for breath through my swollen throat. “Can we strangle him first?” I rasp, only half joking.

  “No need,” Jafar replies.

  “Did you kill him?” I can guess the answer.

  Without answering, my Guardian tosses me over one broad shoulder and begins rapidly climbing down the hill.

  “Won’t the Cats follow us?”

  “I’ve injured many. They are in no shape to give chase.”

  “But the Amun Ra will send more,” I guess.

  “Don’t pass out on me,” Jafar warns. “I’m going to need to put you on your own feet in a minute.”

  “Fine with me,” I retort. “I do best on my own feet.”

  With Jafar in the lead, we break into a lurching run down the far side of the Valley. Fine. I lurch. Hell, I’ve just been mostly strangled, so I figure I have an excuse. Jafar, however, runs as smoothly as the damn Cat he is. His eyes move possessively over me, one large hand cupping my ass and scooting me in a new direction.

  “Hey,” I glare. “No backseat driving there.” Unfortunately, my serious lack of breath ruins the effect.

  Low, scrubby bushes slap at my legs as we hurtle pell-mell down the steep slope. How soon until the rest of the Guardians are after us? Time to call in the cavalry.

  Skidding to a stop, I catch myself on a conveniently placed boulder.

  “Why are you stopping?” Jafar growls. Clearly, he’s all too aware that he’s left a really pissed off group of warriors a half mile back. I can’t blame him.

  “Reinforcements.” I shove my hand into my bag and grope. There. The smooth round curve of the scrying bowl fits itself into my hand. I pull it out and wave it at him.

  “A bowl. Right. Very helpful.” Doesn’t he recognize what I’m holding in my hand? Doesn’t he realize it’s a means of calling for help? Perhaps he thinks there is no one who will help me.

  “This,” I say, just so we’re clear, “is going to save our asses. You can thank me later.” His thanks are going to involve some serious groveling if I get my way.

  “Bowl’s going to sprout wings and fly us out of here? Erase the scent trail we’ve just plastered down the side of this hill like a great big come-and-get-me sign?”

  “No.” Under other circumstances, I’d have countered his sarcasm with a few quips of my own. Now, however, I’m operating under a serious time crunch. “None of the above. It’s the scrying bowl.”

  Apparently, he thought he’d cracked the bowl into oblivion during our friendly little cave-in encounter. Well, I’d slipped the bowl back into my bag, and now? It’s going to come in handy. Very handy.

  Stirring the bespelled surface of the water, I chant in a rapid slur of words that would make a drunk sound lucid.

  “You’re working mazhyk?”

  “Bingo.” Small tendrils of mazhyk stir the hair on my neck. Ick. It’s like being dipped upside down into a vat of particularly unpleasant oil. I rub my arms nervously.

  “Thought you didn’t like mazhyk.”

  “Exceptions,” I reply sweetly. “Being chased by a pack of revenge-minded Guardians? Makes a girl rethink her priorities.” And how.

  An image wavers, forming over the surface. Surely my Cat hasn’t just mouthed, “About time,” has he? I don’t wait for the image to form fully. I don’t have that kind of time. The bowl vibrates in my hands.

  “Ebo.” The answering pause goes on far too long. Damn it, why isn’t the guard answering? I give up on the social niceties—Ebo knows better than to expect those from me anyhow—and get straight to the point.

  “Get me out of here. Now.” This isn’t the time for my hired helpers to sit around with their thumbs up their proverbial asses. I have Guardians on my tail and I need to move, move, move.

  Jafar pulls me to my feet. “Walk and talk,” he mouths.

  Good idea.

  The water in the bowl sloshes as I trip over one of the many damn stones that litter the lower slope of the Valley. The image floating above the bowl flickers again and finally resolves itself into the familiar hard-featured glare of Ebo.

  “Look, we’re a little busy here,” he bites out. I catch the flicker of color beyond him. The camp’s perimeter warnings. Only something large—and sporting powerful mazhyk—can set off those flares.

  “Company?” I ask. Damn.

  Jafar catches me before I can trip over another invisible root. He doesn’t say anything. Merely picks me up and cradles me against his chest. “Safer,” he says.

  “Did you get it?” Ebo asks.

  I nod and then realize he can’t see me.

  Because he isn’t watching me. At all.

  What’s happening at my campsite that is so bad that Ebo won’t make eye contact with me?

  “I did,” I confirm. “But I’m not
going to hang on to it, Ebo, if you don’t haul your ass up here and get me out.”

  Damn, but I hate admitting that part. That I actually can’t do it all by myself.

  Jafar’s arms tighten around me. “Not alone,” he whispers into my hair, and a happy little zing ricochets through me.

  “You got that, Ebo?” I add, when he doesn’t say anything.

  Ebo seems to have frozen, staring to his left as if the apocalypse has just crashed his backyard barbecue and scared off all his guests.

  “Yeah,” he says, “but it’s still going to have to wait.” I hear the soft snick of steel as he draws his blade. The sound of crashing in the underbrush follows close on the heels of a bellow. “This isn’t good, Miu.”

  “This isn’t good,” I hiss. “I’ve got Guardians chasing me, Ebo. They’re going to catch me. And I’ve. Got. Their. Damn. Necklace.”

  “Right,” he mutters, clearly not listening to me anymore. “Good. Good job. Congratulations.”

  “Ebo,” I demand, swallowing a shriek of frustration. “Who’s in charge here?”

  “You are.” He still doesn’t look as if he cares. Somewhere behind him, a man screams. Oh, Heqet.

  Jafar picks up his pace. “How far away is he?”

  I don’t know. Heqet, I just don’t know.

  “Do you know what they do to thieves here?” Maybe a little pressure will help Ebo focus?

  Concern flickers in his eyes. “Yeah, but we’ve got bigger problems here, Miu. Real big problems.”

  Ebo opens his mouth to say something and then he drops his bowl. As the water rises upward, the last thing I see is a dark crimson tide and then the thirsty ground swallows the liquid, severing the link.

  Behind me, Jafar curses and puts me back on my feet. “Very helpful,” he snaps. “Now run.”

  I don’t need a second invitation.

  Part Five

  CHALLENGE