by Kira Brady
“I can’t help trying to heal everyone. It’s more than my job; it’s who I am. My great-grandfather was a healer too. It’s in the blood. He was some sort of shaman. He’d go from village to village, healing the sick and selling magic powders for protection from evil spirits. He died in the Great Seattle Fire of 1889.”
“The Land War,” Hart said.
“Excuse me?”
“We call it the Land War, not the Great Seattle Fire.”
“Why?”
“This area had been dragon-free for centuries after the Kivati exterminated the Unktehila. Then Norgard showed up with his followers and planted his stake. Shit hit the fan. The Kivati thought they’d wipe this batch of scaly soul-suckers off the face of the earth too, but they were disorganized. Not like today. In the battle, which the Kivati lost, downtown burned to the ground. Norgard founded his city of Ballard the next year. They’ve been at each other’s throats ever since.”
She smiled. “Now that’s what I call revisionist history.”
“You really think a little glue pot could have caused so much damage?”
“I guess not.” She watched the thick column of smoke pour over the Locks as they drove past. “We humans are a bunch of idiots, huh? We’ll believe anything.”
“No,” he said, looking at her with frightening intensity. “It takes a lot of work to pull the wool over your eyes.” He wasn’t talking about the glue pot anymore.
“I don’t know about that.” She turned to look out the window. “Seems like you pulled a fast one on me easily enough. Do all your targets walk willingly into Norgard’s lair for you?”
“You’re too trusting. That’s your problem.”
“Yeah? And how is that not-trusting thing working out for you, wolf-man?” she snapped. “Do you enjoy cutting yourself off from everyone who might care about you? Is your life richer for being a one-man army?” She watched his shoulders stiffen as her words hit home, but she didn’t care. “I’d rather trust and risk my friendship and affection than live in a lonely prison of my own making. Sure, you’re safe there. But it isn’t living. It isn’t—”
Swearing, he yanked the steering wheel hard to the left. She braced herself as her body was thrown against the door. That was one way of ending a conversation.
“Bridge is out,” he explained. “Not surprising when the Locks blow.”
She let him change the subject. He didn’t want to talk about his trust issues? Fine. As long as he stopped berating her for trusting in people. Her way might be riskier, but his was certainly lonelier. “Will Norgard be searching for me?”
“Yes.” He glanced at her forehead and frowned. “You’ll want to wash that rune off before we get there.” He reached one hand into the backseat and pulled out a gym bag. “Here are some clothes. They’ll be big, but—”
“Thank you. I don’t want to wear this robe a minute longer.” Kayla quickly looked down to cover her blush. There was a large button-down shirt and a pair of sweatpants in the bag. Changing in the front seat of a moving car without flashing other drivers or, especially, Hart, was going to be a challenge. She turned toward the window and slid the silk off her shoulders. She could feel Hart’s gaze on her bare back.
Adrenaline was a high she couldn’t shake off. She wanted to put this pent-up energy somewhere. He wanted to leave, did he? She shouldn’t care. Part of her wanted to turn around and let him see the swirls of runes Grace had painted over her breasts and womb. Let him try to pretend he didn’t want her. Let him try to hide the hungry look he got when he thought she wasn’t looking.
“I’m sorry it’s too big.” Hart’s voice broke her reverie, sounding uncertain. “It was all I had.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine.” She realized she had been staring out the window half covered, the flannel shirt laying limply in her fingers. She slipped it on over her head and pulled her arms out of the robe from beneath the privacy of the cotton shirt. The pants were harder. Hart kept his eyes straight ahead, but she had the feeling he saw everything anyway. He wanted to pretend there was nothing between them? Fine. Let him ride off into the sunset like a lone horseman.
She wasn’t fool enough to think she could keep him. She didn’t want to. Bad boys didn’t come home for dinner every night at six o’clock sharp. Bad boys sometimes didn’t come home at all.
She’d had enough of people she loved not coming back.
Chapter 14
Hart knew he should be planning a safe destination, but with Kayla sitting three inches from him, her scent filling the enclosed space, it was all he could do to keep his car on the road. If he reached out one hand he could touch her. She looked ridiculous in his big clothes. The shirt fit her like a tent, and she’d had to roll down the waistband of the pants and fold up the legs half a dozen times so that her little feet stuck out.
He’d tried not to peek when she changed. Really. But with the moon madness riding him hard, he had little willpower left. The Change would take him soon. There was nothing he could do to stop it. Kayla had to be far away from him when it did.
His brain replayed the curve of her smooth shoulder and the beautiful expanse of her bare back. He wanted her. Wanted to peel those yards of concealing cotton off her and touch her naked skin. He’d never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted her right now.
Sucked to be him. He’d blown whatever chance he might have had with her when he betrayed her. He was a degenerate. Blood on his hands. His soul black and twisted. Who was he kidding? He never had a chance.
She was good, pure, and innocent, with her passion for healing and her overly forgiving nature. She should hate him, but when he looked in her eyes he didn’t see any of that familiar emotion. He saw only hope.
Hope.
Lady be, had he ever known that emotion? Kayla made him want to. And, damn, he couldn’t afford this distraction. He planned to drive her to the airport and buy her the first ticket out of town.
South of the city line, abandoned warehouses ruled the murky streets. The dam on the Green River had been a casualty in one of the violent outbreaks a few years ago. It burst, swamping the streets and creating a ghost town that would rival the Ninth Ward in New Orleans. Airport Way was clear and high. It was a little-used fairway that Norgard wouldn’t expect him to take.
He’d just crossed the border when he felt a surge of Aether, and his front tires exploded. He swore and yanked the steering wheel hard to the right. He tried to keep the car from careening into the sludge on the side of the road. The car spun like a demon top. It didn’t have air bags. Panicked, he shot his right arm out to clamp Kayla firmly in her seat. He felt her soft body jerk as the car hit a light post and came to a stop. Luckily, there weren’t any other cars on the road that might have hit them. Unluckily, there weren’t any cars on the road to stop and assist either.
“Are you all right?” The beast beat against his chest, a rapid drum roll full of claws and snarls. It wanted to burst through his skin and attack the unseen assailant. With great effort, he pulled it back.
Kayla looked dazed, but otherwise unhurt. Her smooth skin had lost color. She nodded. She looked down to where his hand still protected her torso, and a rosy blush stained her cheeks. He realized his hand clung to her breast.
He jerked his hand away. “I . . . sorry.”
“What happened?”
“Trouble.” He pulled his rifle out of the backseat and slid his broadsword out of its scabbard. Nothing moved on the deserted street, but he felt the Aether roll. “You have that gun I gave you? Keep it close. Stay here.”
He opened the door and got out. The front tires were shredded. He had a spare, but only one. Someone had wanted him stalled here. He raised his rifle and rested the barrel on the top of his open car door. The car headlights lit the dark for a hundred feet in the distance.
The wait was a short one. A titanium-plated jeep drew into the glare of his lights and headed toward him. He resisted the urge to shoot out its tires. The jeep stopped. Rudrick and Be
nard the Bear got out.
“Seems you got in a bit of trouble,” Rudrick drawled. “Way out here. Lucky thing we were driving past.”
Lucky wasn’t the word that came to mind. “What do you want?” Hart asked, not lowering his gun.
Rudrick drew his hand to his breast as if hurt. “Me? You’re driving through my territory, Wolf. Good thing for you we found you here. No one comes driving this road late at night. You and the little lady might have been stranded.” He gestured to the east, where the translucent glow of moonrise gathered like molten silver against the horizon. “Or were you hoping to be caught out under the goddess’ pull? Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Perhaps you wanted to chase the girl through these ruined streets and sate your bloodlust—”
“No.” The denial was more growl than word. Hart had to drop the gun and cling to the door to steady himself against the seductive image. “I claim the ancient right of sanctuary.”
“See? Asking for help isn’t that hard, is it? I grant you sanctuary and safe passage. Benard, help move this pile of bolts to the side of the road.” Rudrick strolled to the Mercedes and got a good look at Hart’s face. “You don’t look so hot, werewolf. Looks like we showed up just in time.”
Hart managed to nod.
Kayla climbed out of the car. “You okay, Hart?”
“We gotta go with them.” He jerked his head toward Rudrick. “He’s promised safe passage.”
“I’ve a warehouse not far from here, with a holding cell,” Rudrick explained.
Benard walked too close to Kayla, and Hart growled. The beast tensed to spring at this new threat.
Rudrick raised an eyebrow. “I swear on the Lady that neither I nor my men will hurt her.”
It was a powerful oath, binding for the Kivati. That Rudrick would offer it unasked was unprecedented. Hart wasn’t in the habit of trusting people, but he had little choice. The Lady was vengeful on those who broke their oath to Her.
He gathered his weapons and supplies, and escorted Kayla to the Kivati jeep. Rudrick and Benard pushed Hart’s car to the side of the road. They piled in the jeep, Kayla and Hart in back.
Rudrick’s warehouse was half a mile north. The old factory stood out from the street by its unusually well-cared-for brick exterior. The two-story building had leaded glass windows with wide arches and ten or more stately chimneys. A high chain-link fence with quality ghost charms surrounded the property.
Hart heard Kayla’s sharp intake of breath as she caught sight of the men with guns waiting for them. “They won’t shoot us.” He hoped. “But don’t make any sudden movements.”
Two gunmen came out to meet the jeep. They patted down Hart and removed his weapons. He kept a close eye on Kayla on the other side of the jeep, where a Thunderbird was getting a little too personal searching her.
“If you want to keep those hands,” Hart growled, “get them off her.”
“Better do as he says, Torin,” Rudrick called from the porch. “I wouldn’t want to be in the werewolf’s line of sight when the moon rises in ten minutes.”
The Thunderbird quickly removed his hands.
Hart was at her side in an instant. Her lips pressed firmly together, and she didn’t look happy, but she didn’t look harmed either. He guided her forward with a hand on her lower back, daring anyone to touch her again. When Rudrick’s thin face broke into a calculating grin, Hart realized his mistake. He should have treated Kayla like she was nothing special, not parade her around like a valued prize. Problem was, she was his. So close to the moon—ten minutes, had Rudrick said?—his instincts ruled more than his brain, and his instincts definitely wanted to claim Kayla in front of all these potential rivals. Hell, he was practically baring his teeth at anyone who so much as looked at her sideways. Might as well pee in a circle around her while he was at it, really show them who was boss.
But he’d put her in even more danger by showing his cards early. Now that Rudrick knew Kayla was important to Hart, she could be used as collateral.
Over his dead body.
But he wouldn’t put it past Rudrick to do exactly that.
“Welcome to my humble home,” Rudrick said. “Miss Friday, I had worried you left us without saying good-bye.” He took Kayla’s hand and kissed the tips of her fingers, an unholy gleam in his eyes. “Stop growling, Hart. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Hart realized the sound was coming from his throat, and he forced himself to stop. “Where is the safe cell?” he asked Rudrick. “There isn’t much time.”
“Yes, of course.” Rudrick led the way into the warehouse. A narrow entrance opened up into an armory. Weapons and ammunition were stacked in crisp rows on either side of a long aisle. On the far side, furnaces blazed. Blacksmiths with thick leather aprons and round brass goggles pounded down steel into short swords and wickedly curved scimitar blades. Another pair molded silver bullets.
The production was big enough to be the Kivati main armory—the location of which was supposed to be a closely kept secret. Hart wondered what it would cost him to leave with this information.
“Nothing to see here,” Rudrick snapped. “The cell is in the basement.”
Hart turned to Kayla. She had plastered a tense smile on her face, and her back was straight as the steel blades being tempered a few feet away. Her wide eyes skimmed over the weapons like they held no fear. The warehouse might have manufactured pottery for all the attention she gave it. But when she looked at him her cool mask cracked. In those gorgeous golden-brown eyes he saw an unshakable trust, even after all he’d done. Crooks like him didn’t get second chances. Her forgiveness shook him to the core. Damn, wasn’t that a lot of responsibility for a guy to live up to?
“Kayla,” he said. “I’m going to go downstairs. Don’t come down no matter what you hear, not until sunup tomorrow morning.”
“What’s going to happen to you?”
“The full moon Changes me into a mindless killer.”
“I’ve seen you as Wolf before. You didn’t hurt me.”
“That was different. Promise you won’t come downstairs, and promise you won’t try to leave until after we’ve talked in the morning.”
“I promise,” she whispered. Her pink lips lured him, calling him to seal their bargain with a kiss, but he knew it was only the madness talking. She didn’t want him to kiss her.
He released her and let Rudrick lead him downstairs. The basement was made of thick slabs of concrete reinforced with iron bars and silver shavings. It doubled as a bunker and a holding tank for prisoners. Even as a full-strength werewolf, Hart wouldn’t be able to break out, no matter how strong the moon pulled him. A wall of metal bars split the room in two. There wasn’t any furniture. He probably would have broken anything left in there with him.
Hart stepped through the gate, and Rudrick slammed it shut behind him. The gears whirred as the locks thudded into place.
Rudrick turned to go back up the stairs, but paused. “You know, I don’t believe you fulfilled the terms of our bargain. It’s the night of the full moon, but your little human didn’t deliver the necklace as promised.”
“No,” Hart said, suddenly alert. “But you promised you wouldn’t hurt her.”
Two gunmen dragged Kayla down the stairs, holding her tightly by both arms.
“What’s going on?” she cried.
Hart couldn’t look away. She was so beautiful, head held high, eyes flashing with defiance. He knew what Rudrick intended, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it. “You promised safe passage.”
“And I’ve brought you here safely to this sanctuary. Miss Friday,” Rudrick asked, “didn’t you agree to personally deliver the necklace to me?”
“Don’t answer him,” Hart said.
She looked between them warily.
“No matter,” Rudrick said. He stroked Kayla’s cheek. “I have eight witnesses who said she did. I can’t allow her failure to go unpunished. You, mad dog, of all people, should know the value of a reputat
ion.”
“Let her go,” Hart begged. He’d never begged before in his life, but he did now. “Please. Please let her go. I’ll pay you.”
“What do you think she’ll taste like? Hmm?” Rudrick replaced his fingers with his tongue, licking her. She flinched. He smacked his lips. “Spicy.”
“What do you want, Rudrick?” Hart gripped the steel bars of the jail cell door, straining to open it, calling on the moon’s power for strength. The silver filaments burned his skin. The bars didn’t budge. “Come on. Talk to me. Let’s make a deal.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Rudrick raked Kayla with his eyes. “I’m doing you a favor here. You think I can’t tell how much you want to take a bite out of this tasty little morsel? You practically reek with unfulfilled lust. It’s disgusting.”
Hart’s hands shook like a junky needing a fix. Sweat dripped from his brow. His eyes, he knew, had already turned completely black.
Kayla watched him warily, the edge of fear in her scent. What did she think when she saw him? Did she see a monster?
She should, because what Rudrick said was true; he wanted to taste Kayla so bad it hurt. He’d give anything for the chance to feel those sweet lips beneath his, to hold her in his arms again with her soft curves pressed intimately against him.
But he was the last person she’d want to touch. He’d lied to her, kidnapped her, and now deposited her in even worse danger.
“Stand back, or I’ll shoot her in the leg,” Rudrick told him. “She won’t die of it, and the stink of blood will ensure your immediate Change. I’d like to watch, but it would be over too quickly.”
Hart stepped back. The gears whirred again. The locks clicked open. He could make a dash for it, but Rudrick’s goons had guns trained on Kayla. Rudrick opened the cell door and threw her in.
Chapter 15
Hart caught her.
“I’m sorry,” he told Kayla, his heart in his eyes. “I’m so very sorry.”
He let go of her quickly, because up close her scent drove him mad. He was holding on to his human form by the bare tips of his claws. He turned to a grinning Rudrick. “You swore to the Lady—”
