Chronicles of Arcana (The complete collection books 1-4)

by Debbie Cassidy

  “Tay ...”

  His eyes were bright, gleaming with desire, as he moved closer, forcing me to back up. I hit the wall. I was trapped by the powerful cage of his body. Overwhelmed by his scent, by his large, calloused hands that were skimming over my body, across my ribcage, and up under my jacket to cup my breasts. The air rushed out of my lungs as his thumbs brushed across my nipples, forcing them to painful attention, reminding me of the sensation of his rough, wet tongue on the sensitive peaks.

  His chest rumbled, low and sensuous—a sound that vibrated through me, settling in my most intimate place.

  “No, not fai—”

  His mouth crashed down on mine, slanting across it, claiming me with tongue and teeth. He tasted of peaches and alcohol. I swept my tongue against his smooth, even teeth, taking his tongue deep into my mouth and sucking on it, echoing what I’d like to do with other parts of his anatomy. He growled into my mouth, his grip on my waist tightening, lifting me up so that we were pinned together groin to groin, so that he was pressed against me, rubbing, rolling, the friction a delicious heat spiking through me. Oh, God. Oh, fucking God, I wanted him. Mine. He was mine.

  The door to the apartment slammed. And it was as if someone had thrown an icy bucket of water over me. My muscles tensed. No. What the fuck was I doing? Weak, I was so fucking weak.

  Tay had gone very still, his head pressed to my collarbone. “I love you, Wila.”

  Tears blurred my vision and leaked from my eyes. “Fucking hell, Tay. I ...” I love you too. The words seeped into my mind from the forbidden place. The hungry, selfish place, and my lips trembled with the impulse to say them. I bit the insides of my cheeks.

  He raised his head and looked deep into my eyes. “Wila?” He could see it. He could see it because it was shining from my eyes. “Why?”

  I brushed the tip of my nose against his. “Because nothing is ever enough, and I can’t hurt you. I won’t.”

  I pushed at his shoulders, and he slowly lowered me to the ground. We stood there, chins tucked in for a long second.

  “I wish I was different.” My voice was a whisper. “I wish I could be that woman, I ...”

  “Don’t.” He gently grasped my chin and tilted my head up. “You are who you are.” His lips quirked. “Whatever that might be.”

  He was talking about my unknown heritage. The genes that made me defective, that made me broken. “You can’t wait for me, Tay. Promise me you’ll take care of you.”

  His throat bobbed. “I can’t do that.”

  “You need to mate. You need it like you need to breathe, and once you do, then this intensity will be gone. We can go back to being friends.”

  Once he mated, he’d love someone else. He’d forget how this felt, but not me. I’d never forget, and the look in his eyes said that he understood this.

  “I can’t hurt you either, Wila.”

  “It hurts more like this.” I reached up to cup his cheek, and then, thinking better of it, dropped my hand to my side. “Promise me you’ll try.”

  He exhaled through his nose.

  “Promise me.”

  He closed his eyes. “I promise.”

  My heart cracked a fraction. “I’m gonna go get some air, and when I get back, we’re gonna put on some jaunty music and kick loose.”

  Heart thudding painfully in my chest, and totally stone-cold sober, I headed back through the bar and toward the back exit.

  Out in the alley behind the Hunter and Prey, I leaned back against the wall and took a deep, shuddering breath. God, why had that been so hard? Two years, we’d been friends. Two years of ups and downs, hanging out and sharing secrets, had forged a bond between the three of us, but whereas things with Mack had never even ventured into intimate waters, with Tay, the spark had bloomed into a flame. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I be normal and settle for one guy? Why did the thought of doing so feel hollow, as if I was giving up something vital? My freedom? No, that wasn’t it. Dammit, if only this feeling made sense.

  The click and clank of metal scraping against slate killed all procrastination. My head whipped up just in time to see the spider thing launch itself off the roof toward me.

  Chapter 6

  My body acted on instinct, throwing itself to the side. The metal thing hit the spot where I’d been a mere moment ago, spun, and launched itself at me again. Shit, it was fast. But I was no slowpoke. K was already launching an armor-piercing bolt. It hit its mark but glanced off the creature who was scuttling toward me like I was the center of gravity. The door back into the bar was behind it. No escape that way.

  Fuck this shit. I turned and ran, metal at my back, the horrific clicks and clanks a promise of a neat slice and dice if it caught up to me, and no way was I being anyone’s shish kebab. The mouth of the alley loomed. If I could get around the building, I could call for help.

  And then the clanks stopped. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end just before the thing slammed into my back, taking me down. The vise-like grip it had instituted in the old lady’s attic was back. Skull-crushing pressure ground the side of my face into gravel. Fuck. This. Shit. Hot, molten rage surged up my throat and exploded from my lips in a sonic blast that picked up the bins lined against the wall and flung them down the alley. How? What the heck? The creature’s grip loosened for a moment, and hope warred with shock at the godawful racket that had just shot out of my mouth, and then the grip was back, tighter than ever, followed by a whirring sound.

  A familiar roar battered my eardrums and then the weight on my back was gone. I rolled, kicking out just in case, eyes taking in the scene. Metal was crushed to the wall by a huge, fucked-off hound, but in the next instant, the metal thing expanded. It wrapped itself around the hound and then smashed it into the ground.

  “No!” I grabbed a dagger from the sheath on my thigh, knowing damn well it would do nothing but needing to try anyway. The hound let out an awful whimper, and my dagger did nothing but scrape off the metal creature’s hide.

  “Motherfucker, it has someone!” a male voice exclaimed.

  “Blast the bitch,” a sultry female voice commanded.

  Something whooshed over my head and then a ball of blue flame hit the metal thing. Wait, not flame, electricity. The machine shuddered, and then released the hound. Another blast, but this time the spider creature was too fast; it leapt out of the way and up onto the roof.

  The hound didn’t move. My knees met the pavement. “Hey, please be okay. Please.” No visible wounds, but he was out cold. Shit.

  A shadow fell over me. Two cloaked figures toting the kind of weaponry I’d only ever seen on a sci-fi show.

  “He’ll be fine. It was just an extraction,” the woman said.

  The guy was too busy scanning the rooftop. “Hon, we need to jet.”

  The woman, Hon, was busy studying me. “You’re okay? Did it probe you?”

  Probe me? “What? No.”

  “Okay, good.”

  “Get on with it, Hon,” the male urged.

  The woman grabbed my face. “You didn’t see anything. You were attacked by an unknown assailant and everything’s a blur. Your companion was knocked out. You want to get him home safely.” Her voice sliced through me, settling deep in my mind.

  I blinked and stared up at the stars. What the fuck? Everything had happened so fast it had been a blur, and the hound ... Oh, shit. The poor hound. I had to get him home. Tay. I needed Tay and Azren.

  Leaving the hound, I ran back toward the rear exit, flung it open, and shouted at the top of my lungs, “Tay, Mack, I need you!”

  The hound didn’t even stir. Shit. Fucking shit. What if it was dead? No, it was still breathing. Good.

  The door slammed open and Taylem and Mack came barreling out. They ground to a halt at the sight of me hovering over a monstrous hound.

  Tay held up his hands. “Wila, just step away from it slowly.”

  They didn’t know about my mystery savior. “No, you don’t understand. He saved m
y life. He’s not dangerous. Just help me get him home, and I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

  Tay gave me a skeptical look, but then he was striding over. Mack hesitated a moment then followed.

  “We can use the truck,” Tay said.

  I glanced back at the exit. “Where’s Azren?”

  Mack smirked. “Why don’t you go see for yourself? We’ll load up the hound.”

  I headed back into the bar to the sound of booty-shaking music and loud, rowdy hoots. A crowd had gathered, and being short was so not conducive right now. The bar was to my left. There was nothing to do but hop up and do a sweep, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head.

  “Your friend likes this song,” Fergus slurred from behind the bar.

  Azren had the floor, or table as the case may be, and the attention of every red-blooded neph female in the room as he showed off some serious snake-hip moves.

  Oh, man. Shit, he looked hot. “Hey! Shakira, get your ass over here.”

  Azren looked up at the sound of my voice, his green eyes aglow.

  “We’re leaving.” I jumped off the bar, and this time the crowd parted to let me through, the males probably eager to see the back of the showboating intruder on the table.

  “Wila, come dance. My hips don’t lie,” Azren slurred.

  “Oh, man. You are so shit-faced right now.” I grabbed his wrist and tugged him. “We have to go. Now. I was just attacked outside and the—”

  The smile vanished and his eyes narrowed, the inebriation lifting a little. He jumped off the table and grabbed my shoulders. “Where are the assailants?” He staggered toward the door.

  “Whoa.” I ducked under his arm to brace him. “What are you gonna do, dance them to death? Let’s just get you home and sober, then we can talk.”

  “You were attacked.”

  “Yes.”

  “And I was dancing.”

  “A-huh.”

  “On the table.”

  “That’s right. Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll run it all by you tomorrow morning, over and over.”

  ***

  The alarms, linked to the Arcana wards Noir had set up after the rogue Shedim attack, blared to life as Tay and Mack carried the hound through the French doors leading into the lounge. Shitfuck.

  Noir materialized in the foyer, complete with bed head and dressed only in pajama bottoms. I caught a quick glimpse of his bare torso, tan against the cream bottoms he was wearing, before Azren’s staggering weight claimed my attention again. Noir’s mouth pressed in a firm line at the sight of us, and electricity flared to life at his fingertips.

  I waved a dismissive hand. “It’s okay. It’s the hound, it saved my life again ... I think.”

  He made an intricate motion with his hands to deactivate the screeching siren as I lugged Azren across the room and out of the way of the boys, who were maneuvering the hound around the dining room table. “Put him in there. I just need to get Azren upstairs.”

  Azren groaned. “I think I need to vomit.”

  Noir opened his mouth with a question in his eyes.

  “Don’t ask.” I headed up the stairs, and the poor Shedim did the best he could to help me help him.

  “Your ale is toxic.” He groaned.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I am never inebriated.”

  “Right.”

  “The earth spins.”

  “That’s right, big guy. Almost there.”

  We entered his room, and he pushed away from me and stumbled into the bathroom.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Trevor asked from the doorway.

  The sounds of Azren retching filtered through the bathroom door.

  “Um. Azren isn’t feeling too well.”

  “I didn’t realize Shedim could get sick.”

  “Yeah, well, it turns out that they can if they drink too much killer honey ale and then dance on the tables.”

  Trevor’s eyes grew round. “Please, tell me you got pictures.”

  I gave him my best stern look. “What do you take me for?” I pulled my phone from my pocket, face breaking into a grin. “Of course I bloody did.”

  “You, Wila Bastion, are a legend. Let me see.”

  The retching had stopped. “Shit. Go. I’ll find you in a bit.”

  Trevor slipped away as the bathroom door opened with a creak and a pale, shaky Azren emerged. He staggered across the room and fell face first onto the bed.

  “Azren? Are you all right?”

  A low groan that sounded very much like kill me.

  “Sorry, did you say, these hips don’t lie.”

  “Fuck you.”

  For someone who hated the word fuck, he’d sure been using it a lot lately. I’d totally rubbed off on him. Snort-chuckling to myself, I headed out the door humming the soundtrack he’d been dancing to. Something shifted at the back of my mind, a strange feeling of urgency, the kind you got when you knew there was something important you were about to say or do but it had flown the coop in your head. It was fleeting but disturbing, and then I was bounding down the stairs to the lounge where Tay and Mack had laid the hound.

  The hound was still unconscious, but someone had found a blanket and laid it over the beast.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Gilbert said softly from beside me.

  “Yeah, neither have I. But he saved my life several times now.”

  Noir was crouched by the creature, fingers hovering over its fur, eyes closed. He stopped and sat back on his haunches.

  “No internal injuries that I can detect, but there’s a puncture wound just here.” He pointed at the back of the hound’s neck. He pulled himself up and smoothed down his slacks. “What happened?”

  I shook my head. “I honestly don’t know. I went outside for a breath of fresh air and then something came at me. It was a blur ... I think ... there was something holding me to the ground.” Colors and images surged up in my mind. Memory. But then a sharp pain lanced through my head, cutting them off. “Shit.” I gripped my head.

  Noir was across the room in an instant, his lean hands on my shoulders. “Wila, what’s wrong.”

  “Every time I try and remember it hurts.” I let go of the swirling images and the pain subsided.

  Noir’s lips were pressed together, his eyes glittering dangerously. “I think someone’s blocked your memory.”

  “Blocked? What? No. I’d remem—okay, that was dumb.”

  He cracked a smile. “I may be able to help.”

  I nodded. “Go for it. If someone’s fucked with my brain, then I want to know so I can hunt them down and kick their arse.”

  He placed his hands on either side of my head.

  “Wait,” Tay said. “Could this hurt her?”

  The pressure of Noir’s fingers eased a little. “It could if I push, but I’m simply going to probe and—”

  Synapses fired in my brain. “Wait, what did you say?”

  Noir blinked down at me. “I said I wasn’t going to push.”

  “No, after that.”

  “That I was simply going to probe?”

  “Yes! Probe, that word—” Another shooting pain, this time behind my eyes. “Oh, fuck this shit. Noir, sort this out.”

  Noir gently cupped my head and closed his eyes. A tingle spread across my scalp, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention, and then someone stabbed a dagger into my head.

  My scream was a primal, visceral, involuntary thing.

  Noir’s hands slipped away, and Tay’s booming voice cut through the pain. Large hands gripped me, lifting me off my feet, cradling me to a wide, muscular chest. Tay. It was Tay. But the pain was a live thing burrowing into my fucking cerebral cortex like a worm, a hungry worm eating at my brain matter.

  Sirens blared.

  No. Not sirens. Screams.

  My screams.

  “What did you fucking do?” Tay demanded.

  “Nothing. I didn’t do anything.” Noir’s tone was higher than usual, drippin
g with panic.

  Colors filled my mind’s eye, voices, shapes, smells, and the memory I’d lost surged to the surface.

  The pain shut off as if someone had flipped a switch.

  I opened my eyes to Tay’s frown.

  “Wila. Oh thank fuck.” He cradled me closer.

  I gripped his shirt. “I remember.”

  ***

  Missy Honour’s voice was a low hum emanating from the radio on the kitchen counter. Did that woman ever sleep? Gilbert had made some tea, decaf due to the late hour, but so far, mine sat untouched. Noir sat opposite me at the table, Mack leaned up against the door jamb, and Tay was propped up against the counter by the radio. Gilbert was close by; I could sense him, but not precisely pinpoint his location.

  “And you’re sure this was the same thing that attacked you in the attic?” Noir asked. He studied me carefully, probably looking for signs of brain damage. I resisted the urge to pull a funny face and slur. Not appropriate.

  I fingered the handle of my teacup. “I’m positive. It was the same thing.”

  “These two operatives must be working for The Collective. They may be part of this elite team,” Noir mused.

  It made sense. “And these metal things must be the threat that The Collective were talking about.”

  “Which means they have no idea about the Lost,” Noir added.

  Mack looked from Noir to me as if watching a tennis match.

  Tay ran a hand over his face. “Can someone please fill me in on what the fuck is going on?”

  He spoke evenly, without any real force. But Tay never needed to raise his voice to be heard. He had the kind of presence that demanded attention and respect. He was the gentle giant that could morph into a killing machine if those he loved were threatened.

  Noir, succinctly, did the honors, filling Tay in on what we’d been dealing with the past three weeks.

  When he finished, Tay pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you didn’t think to tell Mack and me about this?” He was addressing me in his angry voice.

  I blinked at him in surprise. “When have I ever dragged you into one of my cases?”

  His nostrils flared, a sure sign he was about to lose his shit. Mack pursed his lips, widened his eyes, and shook his head at me—a warning to tread carefully.