by Vivian Wood
After she split the stacks up and rolled them in t-shirts, she placed some money in each of her bags lest she lose one. Then she rolled the suitcases back to the front door and waited. Tugging on a long pair of lightweight, arm-length Burburry kid leather gloves, Cassie blew out a long breath and tried to calm her nerves. Her mind was in chaos, her hands shaking, her tongue dry as sand.
The idea of escaping the Birdcage was so thrilling, and yet…
The door swung open again before Cassie had time to complete her thought.
“Let’s go,” said the guard, waving her out the door.
Taking a deep breath and straightening her spine, Cassie grabbed her suitcases and walked out her bedroom door without so much as a backward glance, not wanting to give away her trepidation.
With every step she took, Cassie knew she was moving toward a whole new life. Perhaps a new beginning would be exactly what it took to set Cassandra Chase’s gold-caged heart free.
2
Chapter Two
Gabriel Thorne drew his long sword, lips moving silently as he cast a spell to enhance his vision as he prowled the depths of a long, pitch-black back alley in New Orleans’ famed French Quarter. At the moment he was stalking a foul-looking Drekros demon. The eerily pale, lumpy-skinned creature crept forward on deceptively weak-looking legs, its long, thin neck supporting a cruel head that was mostly made up of razor-sharp yellow teeth. Saliva dripped from its open mouth onto its hideous body.
As Gabriel stalked the Drekros, it was in turn stalking a pair of giggling college girls as they staggered down the dark alley, no doubt trying to make it back to the streetcar for a ride back to Tulane. The Drekros paused and raised its misshapen head, seeming to test the breeze. Gabriel couldn’t see a nose on the Drekros’s face, but that didn’t mean the creature couldn’t sense him coming.
The creature turned on Gabriel with a high-pitched moan, sending acidic spittle flying everywhere, burning everything it touched.
“Oh, did I ruin your dinner?” Gabriel asked with a grin.
The creature moaned again and stared at him, seeming not to comprehend. Perhaps Gabriel’s English accent threw it off kilter. Perhaps the thing didn’t speak or understand speech. Gabriel neither knew nor cared, he only wanted to dispatch the thing and go on with the last hour of his patrol.
Dawn would light the city soon enough, and Gabriel could return to the Manor and seek his bed, possibly after a quick stop at one of the Kith clubs to find a sexy paranormal bedmate. He was particularly interested in succubi these days, as long as they promised to play nice.
“Come on, then,” Gabriel said, thrusting his sword at the creature.
It launched itself at Gabriel with a slurping snarl, murderous intent plain enough in its beady eyes. Gabriel flashed the Drekros a dazzling grin as he cleaved it in half. The demon gurgled as it went up in flame, body vanishing with a bright flare of fire, brimstone, and smoke.
“Enjoy being back in hell. Tell your maker I said hello,” Gabriel said, though the creature was long gone. Gabriel pulled out a thick length of cloth and wiped the blade of his sword clean before returning the weapon to his scabbard. Tossing the cloth in the closest trash can, Gabriel headed back toward St. Louis Cathedral.
Only steps from the Cathedral’s hallowed ground was Spitfire Coffee, Gabriel’s favorite way to end a long night of patrol. The place was open insanely late and made the best damned espresso he’d ever tasted.
Not that nineteenth century London had boasted a lot of espresso, exactly. Gabriel’s original time period had barely produced and roasted the bitterest coffee beans, much less the rich, fruity, nutty flavors that Gabriel preferred in his espresso.
Walking out of Spitfire with a traditional macchiato, two shots of espresso topped with a dollop of milk foam, was the perfect end to Gabriel’s evening. He sipped his drink as he walked back toward the Manor, keeping his eyes peeled. The last hour of darkness was often rife with trouble, Kith preying on humans or on one another.
As he headed to the far end of the French Quarter and strolled up Frenchmen St., Gabriel’s mind wandered. He eyed several Kith clubs, but none of them called to him tonight. Perhaps his self-imposed three week dry spell would continue on, then.
Rhys Macaulay had ruined everything. A fellow Guardian tasked with protecting the city and the closest thing Gabriel had to a friend, Rhys had run smack into his intended mate just over a month ago. Bear shifters knew their mates on sight, and once they’d found their destined mate and settled down, the bear would never take another.
For some reason, Rhys’s exultant happiness after finding his beautiful blonde mate made Gabriel miserable. Gods knew that if anyone deserved a little goodness in their life, it was noble, loyal Rhys. But that didn’t stop Gabriel’s hackles from raising every time he caught Rhys and Echo making out like teenagers in some strange corner of the Manor.
Gabriel honestly wasn’t sure if it was envy, disgust, fear, or some combination thereof, but it had put him off one night stands.
“Just me and my coffee,” he mused aloud, finishing the last drops of his beloved brew and dropping the cup in a trashcan.
His cell phone vibrated somewhere in his tactical vest, and he fished it out with a skeptical grimace. Cell phones ringing meant there was a distress call from somewhere in the city. Distress calls meant dispatching Guardians to the scene. As the Guardian on patrol, Gabriel would likely have to turn right around and head back to the Quarter. Perhaps it was two werewolves brawling, or some weak Kith being threatened by one of the nastier breeds of demon.
“Yeah,” Gabriel said into the phone.
“You won’t believe what I’ve got for you tonight.” Echo, Rhys’s new mate, had taken on the duties of a sort of paranormal police dispatcher, and she always brought a bit of levity when she sent Gabriel on missions.
“I was guessing drunk werewolves,” Gabriel said, pausing at the corner of Frenchmen and Dauphine.
“Actually, I hear there are hot girls involved,” Echo said, sounding amused. “A bunch of witches trapped in one of Pere Mal’s bolt-holes, desperate for rescue. Right up your alley, basically.”
“What’s the address?” Gabriel asked. Echo gave him an address about six blocks to the northeast, in the St. Roch neighborhood. Gabriel could picture the intersection in his mind, a gentrification-heavy block of new and old homes. “Anything else I should know about?”
“One of the witches sent up a huge distress signal, and she mentioned Pere Mal by name. I’d hurry if I were you, before he silences her. Permanently,” Echo said.
“On my way,” Gabriel said. “Send the other two as backup, just in case.”
“Done and done,” Echo said. She disconnected the call before Gabriel could, and he slipped the phone back into his pocket and began to jog toward the address she’d listed.
When Gabriel made it to the area, there was absolutely no doubt as to which house he was heading toward. A ramshackle white cottage in the middle of an otherwise silent block was teeming with activity, drawing Gabriel like a magnet. The biggest clue was the squadron of anxious-looking burly guys in dark suits, a dead giveaway that could be found in any of Pere Mal’s operations. The guy might be a stone-cold killer and a lunatic who planned to rip apart the fabric of the universe in his personal quest for power, but he knew how dress his crew.
There were four massive SUVs parked in the street outside the house, and a few of Pere Mal’s guys were frog-marching disoriented-looking young women, handcuffed from the front door to the cars. Doing a quick count, Gabriel thought that there were already almost a dozen witches crammed into the SUVs.
Gabriel drew his sword as he approached, his mind working quickly to determine how to take down as many of Pere Mal’s henchmen at once without harming any of their captives. Gabriel decided to stun as many of Pere Mal’s men as he could, figuring that if he freed the women they would take flight on their own.
The first surprise was the fact that he made it several paces
onto the property before any of the bad guys even noticed him. Gabriel was almost six and a half feet tall, strikingly handsome, and magic was currently pouring off him in waves; the fact that his presence went undetected was a testament to the melee around him. Dozens of bodies moved in every different direction, men loaded luggage into the SUVs, some of the female captives sobbed as they were dragged to the waiting cars.
“Hey!” came a shout.
Gabriel saw one of Pere Mal’s guys push a tall, willowy blonde to the ground before drawing a firearm. Gabriel pulled a small vial of Mere Marie’s stunning potion from his pocket and hurled it at the guy, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.
Unfortunately, the blonde chose that moment to release an ear-shattering scream of alarm, and in seconds Gabriel was defending himself against another half dozen men. He didn’t want to kill or maim any of them if he could help it, so he took down a few with blows to the head or injuries to the limbs. Killing demons was one thing, but he didn’t kill Kith or humans unless there was no other choice.
Gabriel turned to find two men holding a struggling redhead by the arms, wrestling her toward the last SUV. Another man followed behind them, lugging two large suitcases in his wake. The woman looked up, her soft gray eyes catching Gabriel’s gaze. There was something…
The world slipped away for a moment. Gabriel’s bear was usually reserved if not silent, taking a back seat to his human side. Now, though, his bear awoke, a distinct sensation of hunger and possession reverberating through Gabriel’s entire being.
Mate. The thought sung in his heart even as a sound of denial slipped from his lips. This woman, this stranger, was his only priority now. Her eyes were on him, pleading for help.
He lost control, suddenly and completely. His bear shoved Gabriel deep down inside himself. The bear needed the girl. The bear didn’t want those men touching her.
The bear would be obeyed.
A furious roar ripped from Gabriel’s throat as he dropped his wand and gun, letting himself fall forward as his body rippled and shifted. He burst into motion the second his shift was complete, barreling toward the woman and her guards.
The guy with the luggage took one look at Gabriel and ran, leaving the suitcases behind without a second glance. The other two men exchanged glances, one pulling a gun while the other dragged the woman toward the waiting vehicle.
Gabriel took the first down easily, swatting him down with a single blow. The other man threw a frightened glance over his shoulder and swallowed before shoving the woman back toward Gabriel’s furry form.
Gabriel caught her, turning his body to shield her from the guard and the car. His animal brain struggled with what to do next, giving Gabriel the chance to rise and direct his own actions for a moment. His first thought was that he needed to get the woman clear of the surrounding chaos first, then take things from there.
Standing on his hind legs, Gabriel gave a soft grunt and herded the woman to the left, away from the cars and toward the house next door. She glanced at him, clearly terrified, and bolted.
“Gabriel!”
He heard Aeric’s thick Danish accent in the distance, but Gabriel was still ruled by his bear, unable to turn away from his mate. He dropped to all fours and gave chase, surprised at how fast she was. In short order he managed to trap her up against the front porch of the house next door.
The redhead turned and stared up at Gabriel, wrapping her arms around herself. The bear inside forced Gabriel a step closer, then another. Before he knew it, he was almost close enough press against her. Gabriel railed at himself, but it was all beyond his control now.
He cocked his head and leaned in, taking a long draw of his mate’s scent. She smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, an alluring combination.
“Please,” the woman whispered, her silver eyes wide in her heart-shaped face. “Please, don’t hurt me.”
Gabriel wrested control from his bear. Tamping down his anger and taking a short step backward give her space, he shifted back into his human form.
There was a flicker of recognition in the woman’s eyes, a moment of shock and comprehension, and then her lovely eyes rolled right up in her head. She collapsed without a sound, and Gabriel was hard-put to catch her before her lovely body hit the cement front porch steps.
“Bloody hell, Gabriel.”
The words were spoken in an unmistakable Scottish burr, one the Englishman knew rather well.
Gabriel turned his head to find Rhys and Aeric standing behind him, swords drawn but lowered. His fellow Guardians, one dark-haired and one light, towered over a man who knelt on the ground between them. Gabriel gathered that he was the lone guard unfortunate enough to have made it through the incident unscathed, and he would be held and questioned about his employer. Behind them, the yard was littered with a dozen unconscious guards and a bevy of suitcases.
“Where are the SUVs?” Gabriel asked, confused.
“Gone,” Aeric said, flapping a hand. “They took off as soon as they saw a giant Grizzly coming for them.”
“Ah,” Gabriel said, adjusting the woman in his arms.
“Did she bring the shift on?” Rhys asked, peering around Gabriel to peek at the unconscious female in his arms.
Gabriel shot Rhys a measured glance, then nodded.
“It’s happened to you too, then,” Rhys mused. He looked around the yard, thoughtful. “I suppose we ought to get moving before the human authorities arrive, eh?”
“Some of these suitcases belong to… her,” Gabriel said, his feeling of awkwardness growing by the moment. “The ones right in the middle of the yard, I think.”
Rhys arched a brow, his lips twitching in a way that made Gabriel want to commit murder. “I suppose we ought to pull the car around and take what’s here, in case we get the wrong ones. Mates are very particular, you know. Wouldn’t want to start things on the wrong foot.”
“Just get the bloody car,” Gabriel said, lifting the woman in his arms. “I don’t like being exposed like this. Pere Mal could send more men back for us.”
“For her, more like,” Aeric grunted, already moving away.
Gabriel trudged after Aeric, eager to return to the Manor. He wasn’t sure what the other Guardian meant by that, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it when he found out.
3
Chapter Three
Cassie peeled her eyes open to find herself laid out on a plush leather sofa, hands resting on her stomach. She was in a huge, brightly lit room; the plentiful sunlight meant that she’d been unconscious for more than a handful of minutes. She squinted against the ache pounding just behind her eyes, trying to remember exactly what had happened.
It came back in a rush. The guards pulling her out of the Birdcage. A fierce-looking bear shifter had made an appearance, though she hadn’t been certain where it had come from. She’d run from it, turning to plead for her safety. And lo and behold, the bear had morphed into him.
The man of her dreams, the one she’d seen time and time again in her visions… except she hadn’t expected him today of all days. And in her dreams, he hadn’t been quite so… well, hot.
Though Cassie herself was quite tall for a woman, her dream man had dwarfed her. He was literally tall, dark, and handsome. His thick chocolate hair was highlighted with gold, grown out to fall just below his chin. A day’s stubble graced his face, accentuating his attractiveness. His jaw and cheekbones were formed of high, sharp lines, his brows dark and heavy, his eyes the deepest shade of midnight blue imaginable. He had he size and build of a linebacker coupled with the face and toned muscles of an Armani underwear model.
She knew all of this about him, because she’d dreamed of him many times. To her shame, she’d done more than just dream about him. Isolated and lonely in the Birdcage, her rescuer had been her only recurrent fantasy.
“She’s awake. You’re awake.” A woman stepped into Cassie’s line of sight, and Cassie turned her head to take her in.
She was a gorgeous w
oman in her mid-sixties, dressed in a loose white caftan and a white headdress. Her skin was the soft coffee-and-cream color that was so prevalent in Creole descendants, and her thick New Orleans accent confirmed her background. At the moment, the woman stared down at Cassie with a skeptical expression.
“I’m awake,” Cassie agreed, gently pushing herself upright.
Four more people sat at a huge oak table across the room, three men and a woman. The three men couldn’t look less alike at first glance, though there was something familiar about them. The woman was unknown to Cassie, a curvaceous, pretty blonde with a bemused expression on her face.
The second Cassie saw him, her mystery man, she relaxed a little.
“I’m talking to you,” the Creole woman snapped, waving a hand in front of Cassie’s face.
“Uh…” Cassie said, looking up at her. “Okay.”
“I’m Mere Marie,” the woman said, impatience heavy in her voice. “You’re at the Manor, protected by the Alpha Guardians.”
Several things clicked into place for Cassie. The fact that her dream man had carried a sword, the familiarity of his companions. It all made sense, as Pere Mal’s guards kept a wall of photos and information about the Guardians back at the Birdcage, with the intention of making them recognizable on sight.
“Cassie. Cassandra, I mean. Chase,” Cassie said, trying to get her thoughts in order.
Mere Marie grasped her hand, squeezing it hard, and Cassie gasped at the fission of energy that passed between them. The other woman’s eyes widened, and she stared at Cassie for a long moment.
“Oracle,” Mere Marie said, releasing Cassie’s hand. “No wonder Pere Mal kept you under lock and key.”
The pretty blonde woman piped up, drawing Cassie’s attention.
