by Ann Gimpel
Niall bent so he was nose to nose with Jeremiah. Sarai felt the bite of a truth spell. “Was Micah in on this?”
“No. We would never have put a shifter in the position of choosing loyalty to his people over helping us.” The mage’s words vibrated with the ring of truth, even absent Niall’s casting.
Niall straightened. “I’ll manage the travel spell this time.” His voice didn’t give anything away, but Sarai suspected he was still angry at being lied to and used. Never mind, the mage had a higher purpose. There were a whole lot of junctures where his strategy could have gone off the rails.
She had questions too, but they could wait.
The familiar feel of Niall’s magic rose around her. This time, the opal thrummed in time to his spell, perfectly attuned to MacLier power. Stephan and the eagle shifter supported Jeremiah between them. He protested he could stand on his own, but they blanketed him in a shroud of healing magic.
The walls of the vampires’ lair first thinned and then faded entirely. Sarai sucked a breath deep into her lungs, enjoying the taste and feel of air that wasn’t tainted by rot. The return trip didn’t seem to take as long, but she was exhausted and not tracking well. Three vampire confrontations in two days would drain anyone.
“When did you know about Jeremiah?” she asked her bondmate.
“I sensed the poison from the first vampire but wasn’t sure until the third.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The wolf chuffed. “Because I didn’t know whether they could hear us. This group was old, powerful. They may have had different abilities than the ones in the cabin. Anyway, they were engaged in doing their typical vamp thing. Never turn down blood when its offered. I saw no reason to interrupt them.”
“How do you know so much about vampires?” Sarai was curious. The shifter bond was an interesting phenomenon, one where the animal knew everything about her, but she knew next to nothing about it.
“They were common as rats in earlier times. You’re far from my first bondmate.”
“Sometime, you’ll have to tell me more.”
“Maybe someday I will, but my history isn’t important, only our bond is.”
Niall’s magic lulled her, and it was a struggle not to give up and close her eyes. The teleport spell would unfold even with her unconscious, but after everything that had transpired, she didn’t see how she could check out. If one travel spell could be diverted, another could too.
Niall brought them down on the outskirts of Golddust. The mages—all of whom had known what Jeremiah was up to—raced to them, their eyes full of questions.
When Chloe saw Jeremiah, she threw herself into his arms and gasped. “But you’re still alive. How it that possible?”
He hugged his sister. “Shifters are nothing if not determined. No wonder we lost that war.” He let go of Chloe and clasped hands with the other mages, assuring them the deed was done.
The mages’ heartfelt reunion warmed Sarai. She remained until she was weaving on her feet then went hunting for Niall, intent on determining where they’d sleep for a few hours. Because it was the path of least resistance, she sent magic spinning outward, seeking him.
He was in the deserted saloon with most of the shifters, none of whom looked particularly happy. Fury streamed from Micah at being exploited to trick his kinsmen into taking an enormous risk.
Her head might be fuzzy, but she couldn’t figure out what was wrong. They’d struck a significant blow tonight, killed enough vampires to make a difference.
“Sarai.” Niall’s summons held gruff edges.
She trudged to his side, beyond tired. “What’s up? I need sleep.”
“We all do, but this meeting was essential. We’ll be severing all ties with the mages. We cannot trust them.”
She fell back a step. “What?”
“I was clear enough.”
“Well, it’s a mistake. Jeremiah was a hero. He would have died to set an example to other mages.”
“I know all that, but you cannot stand next to a man you cannot trust.”
Her temper, always short-fused, flared. “That’s a bunch of medieval twaddle. He did the best he could.” She spread her hands in front of her. “We had success—”
“Aye, we got lucky. There are untold numbers of ways his half-baked plan could have gone sideways, and then we’d all have ended up vampire fodder.”
“But—”
“Enough. The point isn’t up for discussion.”
The opal grew warm where it nested between her breasts. Was it warning her or egging her on? Sarai didn’t care. “It was ‘up for discussion’ before I got here. Besides, you can’t tell me what to do or how to think.”
“Not trying to—”
“The hell you aren’t.” She spun and raced out of the dilapidated building, not sure where she’d go, but planning to put as much distance as she could between herself and Niall.
Her magical reservoir was mostly untouched. All she’d done lately was shift. She heard Niall calling her name and ran the other way, summoning a teleport spell to take her back to her shop. It needed cleaning, and at least that would divert her attention from the old-fashioned prig he’d turned into.
Nah. He didn’t turn into anything. It’s what he’s always been.
Tears leaked from her eyes as the magic took her. She blinked them away and ground her teeth until her jaws ached. Niall was a selfish, narrow-minded bastard, and she hoped to hell she never saw him again.
Ever.
If she could get herself to buy into that, she’d be golden. Breath hissed through her clenched teeth. The opal throbbed between her breasts, singing its own melody. She was new to its energy and had no idea what it was trying to tell her, but she needed to get rid of it too. In case it had some underhanded way of driving her back into Niall’s arms.
Chapter 9
Niall grabbed his favorite saber from the pile where the men had tossed their weapons and pounded out of the saloon, running after Sarai. She had a head start, though, and fury added speed to her flight. Magic flared fifty yards to the south as she engaged a travel spell, and he skidded to a halt.
Damned reactive woman. What was wrong with her?
Stephan caught up with him. “She left, eh?”
“Aye. Is she always this volatile?” Words spewed before Stephan could answer. “We made our decision, a quorum of us, the way ’tis always been done. How could she question our wisdom? It exists to protect her and all the rest of us too.”
Stephan stood in the dark street, quiet and watchful.
“Well?” Niall demanded. “She’s your kin. Shed some light on her behavior. It’s unacceptable for her not to accept my guidance. She knows less than nothing about—”
Stephan held up a hand. “Listen to yourself, man. So far, you’ve said Sarai is weak and incapable of thinking for herself.”
“I have not,” Niall sputtered.
“Then we have nothing more to discuss.” Stephan dropped his hand and turned to walk away.
Niall grabbed his upper arm. “Aye, we do. She’s my mate.”
Stephan jerked out of his grip and spun to face him. The mountain cat shifter narrowed his eyes. “Maybe you haven’t paid attention, but the world is a different place than it was when you and I came into it. Marie was old, like me, so we played by the original rulebook. It created friction when Sarai came to live with us, but we came to respect and appreciate her approach to most things. Not everything, mind you, but she brought a freshness to our household and pushed us to embrace women’s innate strength and instinctual knowledge.
“It may be hard for you to understand this, but Marie blossomed—came into her own in ways I’d never have predicted—after a few years with Sarai beneath our roof.”
Niall shook his head. Stephan was spouting words, but they weren’t making a whole lot of sense. “Can you distill that into something simpler?”
“Sure. You have to give Sarai an equal seat at the table. I heard what
she said in the saloon. She believes Jeremiah was a hero. You see him as a traitor.” Stephan paused for emphasis. “You’re going to have to meet her halfway. The flip side of that coin is she’s going to have to want to bridge the gap between you. Sarai has always had a hot temper. She may have written you off as a chauvinistic cad.”
“She can’t do that. She’s my mate. Mine.” Outrage laced with possessiveness beat a path through Niall.
“Uh-huh. There’s another problem. She will never see herself as your property. Think about it before you chase after her. If you find her in your current state of mind—and the mate bond will accomplish that—you’ll only make things worse.”
The air took on a glistening aspect as Stephan called power.
“Where are you going?” Niall asked.
“Home. Sarai may be there, but I wouldn’t bet on it. I’m tired, and I want to mourn the loss of my mate.”
Remorse cut deep. Niall had been so immersed in his own anger and worries, he’d all but forgotten about the other man’s loss. He bowed his head. “Thank you for everything you did after your mate’s death. I am so sorry I never got to meet her. She must have been a very special woman.”
A sad smile flitted about Stephan’s mouth. “Marie was amazing. The best. So’s Sarai—if you accept her for who she is and don’t try to twist her into some female ideal you crafted back in the sixteen hundreds.” The magic brightened around him. When it cleared, Niall was alone.
He stuffed one hand into a pocket and set off at a quick pace, heading toward where he’d left his car. The saber was heavy, awkward, and he wished for a scabbard across his back. The sky was growing lighter to his left with the breaking dawn. Any other day, he’d have appreciated the pearlescent aspect as black shaded to a pinkish-gray. The evening star hung low on the horizon almost as if it were keeping an eye on him.
What should he do?
Go after her or give her time to think through her folly?
He winced and ran faster. If Stephan was to be believed, Sarai didn’t view the stand she’d taken as folly. She wasn’t trying to be contrary or test him; she truly believed Jeremiah had done a brave and noble thing.
Why couldn’t she see it from his point of view?
A cross between a snort and a growl rolled from his mouth. Stephan had addressed that too, and quite succinctly when he’d said Niall had to meet her halfway.
His jaguar had been uncharacteristically quiet. “Are you going to tell me what you think?” he queried his bondmate.
“Do you really want to know?”
Something about the cat’s tone gave him pause. “Aye, or I’d not have asked.”
“You won’t like most of what I have to say.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake get on with it.” He shifted the blade to his other hand and kept on running.
“When you chose to remain single, I mourned because I wished for us to have a mate, but you have never treated your bed partners very well. Over time, I came to recognize the wisdom in your choice to remain by yourself.”
“What do you mean, I haven’t treated them well?” Niall bristled. “I’ve always been honest with them about who I am and what I could give.”
“That’s precisely it. You never gave them much more than your cock. If any of them began to care about you, you cut them out of your life.”
“I know all those things. What I fail to see is how they’re relevant to Sarai’s temperamental outburst.”
“Listen to yourself. She felt strongly enough about something to stand up to you. Rather than respecting her opinion, you labeled it hysteria.” The jaguar kept right on rolling. “Until you accept—and pay heed to—what’s important to her, you’ll never be much of a mate. Or a man, I might add.”
Niall was sorry he’d asked, but the jaguar had warned him. His bondmate fell silent, clearly done with talking.
The outlines of cars loomed ahead, surprising him. Either he was faster than he thought, or he’d been running for a longer time. Some of the vehicles had left, which was the plan they’d agreed to. Everyone was going home for a few days where they’d lie low and assess if the mages’ plot changed things, or if the vampire attacks would keep right on rolling. Niall had left before Micah scared up the mages and delivered the message they wouldn’t be working together from here on in. He wondered how that had gone. If it weren’t for Jeremiah’s kamikaze act, he’d have pegged the mages for a bunch of second-rate magic wielders.
He scrunched his face into a grimace. He’d come to that conclusion long before they lost the war and never bothered to revisit it. Maybe he really was a bigoted bastard. Just because mage magic couldn’t secure a shifter bond didn’t mean it was an inferior brand of power.
Jeremiah had been plenty strong enough to co-opt the eagle shifter’s travel spell.
A wave of discomfort rolled through him, followed by another. He wasn’t used to facing his feelings, and he understood why. Acknowledging he was—er, might be—wrong dumped him into a squirmy awkward spot where it was damned hard to keep on keeping on.
He’d planned to move Sarai into his house and go back to work. He hadn’t discussed it with her. She was his mate. He’d assumed she’d agree, but maybe not. He did live in a pretty sketchy section of a town three hours from her shop.
Aye, I assumed she’d walk away from her life and shape herself to fit into mine.
He sucked in a tight breath and opened his trunk to toss the saber inside. The wooden box caught his eye, and he picked it up, springing the catch. The opal ring and bracelet caught rays of the rising sun, reflecting them in myriad colors. He closed the intricately carved box but kept it with him. Regardless of how things went, she deserved the companion jewelry to her pendant, and he’d see she had them.
He’d been selfish and a fool.
How could he have misjudged so badly?
Because I’ve always been at the center of my own universe.
The answer was sobering—and enlightening. Maybe it wasn’t too late to set things right with Sarai. Her uncle said she had a hot temper. Maybe she’d cooled down enough to at least hear him out.
He got behind the wheel, intent on driving back to Denver and her shop. It wasn’t far. Shouldn’t take him more than an hour, and he could stop at a café and bring her breakfast. Maybe he’d stop at a hardware store and buy cleaning supplies too. Her shop had been trashed, but he was almost certain she’d go there rather than Stephan and Marie’s.
The shop was hers, and she was wounded so she’d want to go to ground in a place she was unlikely to be disturbed.
Aye, and the reason she’s wounded is because of me. No need to sugarcoat it.
Niall swallowed, the taste of bitterness and defeat coating his tongue. Once he was a little closer, he’d check her location through the mate bond. Undeterred by her dismissal, it vibrated just beneath his breastbone, mocking him but offering hope as well.
The mate bond was the goddess’s gift to those like him. It ensured loyalty and continuation of their magical species. Sarai would sense it just as intensely as he did. He pounded a fist on the steering wheel. She had to hear him out. He’d apologize, do whatever it took to get them back on an even keel.
Love laced with deep longing for her poured through him and made him realize how empty his life had been. He peeled back layers as he drove, not sparing any quarter as he picked through the emotional wasteland his life had been. He’d always known he was an adrenaline junkie who craved anything so long as it was new and unusual. What he hadn’t realized was how jumping from fighting one fire to the next had stunted his ability to relate to people.
Mostly, he’d clumped them into categories, never bothering to dig any deeper once he assigned a label. His tags for women had been simple. They’d either been potential sex partners—or not.
He swallowed hard, not caring much for his in-depth moral inventory, but if he was going to bare his soul to Sarai, he needed to view himself from an objective position. No matter how much it paine
d him.
And he needed to tell her everything. Come clean.
Not that he planned to grovel—it wasn’t in his nature—but he would do his damnedest to work with her and offer her his full attention. He’d listen to what she had to say and hunt for how they could craft compromises. He vowed to never tell her she was wrong, or that she had to view the world through his lens.
He reached the exit for her shop and sent a thread of magic snaking outward to make certain he’d guessed right about her location.
She was indeed there, and it set off a cascade of conflicting reactions. So much so, he longed for the safe cocoon he’d shrouded himself in for so long. He was pleased he’d guessed right, but maybe that had been all mate bond and not him at all.
Aye, lesson number two. Watch what I take credit for.
Apprehension tightened his throat and tied his stomach into a knot. What if she wouldn’t let him in? What would he do then? How would he talk with her if she’d decided he was too big a mouthful of diehard chauvinist to bother with?
He’d tightened his fingers around the wheel until his hands cramped, and he made a conscious effort to relax them. He had to believe all wasn’t lost. He nosed the Toyota into a slightly closer parking spot than he’d had last time and got out of the car, ducking back inside to snatch up the wooden box. A coffee shop sat across the street from him, and he sprinted to it, intent on buying coffee and muffins or whatever they had that looked decent.
Remembering his thoughts about cleaning supplies, he glanced up and down the street. A corner market in her office building would probably have bleach and ammonia and sponges and paper towels. He ducked into the small café. It smelled delicious. Cinnamon, vanilla, coffee, and caramel blended into an assault on his empty belly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, which wasn’t good. Magic was like any other physical process. It required fuel and sleep to function at its best.
He strode to the counter and bought two large coffees. He started to tell the clerk to add sugar and cream to both but stopped himself. He had her make up one the way he liked it and got sugar and cream to go for Sarai. For all he knew, she preferred her brew black.
