Boreal and John Grey Season 2

by Thoma, Chrystalla

  Why wasn’t that a surprise?

  ***

  Ella turned the discussion over and over in her mind on the way home, ensconced in an armored car with three armed bodyguards hemming her and Finn in.

  He was quiet, staring straight ahead. When she took his hand and squeezed it, he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Ignore them,” she whispered, garnering a dark look from one of the bodyguards. “They won’t hurt the dragon. It’s their guarantee that you won’t cross through a Gate, and it’s not like you want to, right?” She waited, her breath catching.

  “I don’t,” Finn muttered. “I don’t want that.”

  She nodded, relief rushing through her. “So everything’s okay.”

  Of course he wouldn’t cross. He didn’t want to go back, didn’t want to be a pawn in the Dark Elves’ hands. This was his home now. His family.

  Then why did she still feel uneasy?

  The car dropped them off at the entrance of their building and the two bodyguards Dave had set for them walked inside with them. They took the elevator up in silence. Ella unlocked the door and let Finn into the apartment, then closed it as the bodyguards took their places on either side.

  She leaned back against the polished wood, breathing out. What a crazy evening. She watched Finn shed his jacket and hang it, then move toward the kitchen.

  “Hungry?” She pushed off the door and trailed after him.

  He shook his head and opened a cupboard. Huh, would you look at that? They had red wine. She couldn’t remember buying it. Maybe Mike had left it.

  Finn poured a glass and offered it to her, then turned to pour some for himself.

  “Drowning your sorrows?” Ella raised her glass and took a sip. Not bad.

  He gulped down his wine and poured some more.

  Whoa. She put her glass on the counter and took a deep breath. “You were about to lose control of the magic back there with the Council, weren’t you?”

  He stilled, the glass half-way to his lips. Then he nodded. “I was angry.”

  “But you stopped before opening the Gate.”

  “You stopped me.”

  The words hung heavy in the quiet.

  “How?”

  “You straightened the threads,” Finn said. “You gave me an anchor. A stable point.” He stared into his glass. “But it doesn’t matter. Soon they will know.”

  About his newfound power. Ella sighed. “What about the seal of Vanaheim? Can you stop it from breaking?”

  Finn swallowed the rest of his wine. A flush rose to his high cheekbones. “It won’t break. I won’t let it.”

  At last, some good news.

  She took the empty glass from his fingers and placed it in the sink. “Well, the only thing left is to find your dragon and free her. Then they can’t hurt her.”

  “And where should we keep her?” He gripped her hips and pulled her close. “Here?”

  “That could be a problem. I haven’t cleaned in weeks.” She shivered when he pressed against her, his arousal hard and hot underneath the soft fabric of his pants.

  “Since when do you ever clean?”

  “Good point. Hey, we’ll think of something.”

  “I don’t want to think,” he breathed and nuzzled her neck, whispering something. It took a moment to realize it was her name.

  He kissed her shoulder, his hand trailing down her lips to the hollow at the base of her throat, and she arched back, molding to the hard planes of his body.

  She tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it out of his pants, so she could run her hands over his strong chest. His spicy musk enveloped her. Her body hummed in pleasure at the heat coming off his skin.

  A soft exhalation tickled her ear when her hands dipped down to the small of his back. She felt the small, smooth scars along his spine and his breath caught, then hissed out of his lips.

  “I need...” His hands gripped her hips tighter, then pushed her backward until her back met the counter. He lifted her easily until she was sitting on the cold Formica and tugged off her white blouse. “Need you.”

  She needed him, too, and there was so much she wanted to ask and say, but it was stuck in her throat. His hands were on her ribcage, behind her back, battling with the clasp of her bra. He growled in frustration.

  He had that frantic energy about him again, that air of desperation. It made the cold knot of fear in her stomach tighter.

  She pushed his arms down. “Slow down.”

  “I can’t...” He rubbed a hand over his face. With his silvery hair hanging over his eyes, he looked young and lost, and it made her chest ache. The black tips of his ears poked through the silver strands like those of a lynx. “I want you. Don’t want to leave. I have to—”

  “Of course you aren’t leaving. God, Finn.” She cupped his face, traced the smooth line of his jaw. “They can’t do anything to you. You’ll learn to control your power. Everything will be just fine.”

  The mantra, again.

  He looked at her and there was pain in his pale eyes. She wanted to take it away. It was obvious he didn’t believe her, didn’t trust things would turn out okay. With his past, she couldn’t blame him.

  “Bedroom?” she whispered.

  And the desperation was back in the way he picked her up and strode through the living room to lower her on their bed, in the way he ripped off her clothes and buried himself inside her as if he wanted to stay there forever.

  God, she wished he could.

  Chapter Four

  Constant

  In Finn’s memory, the moment he crossed into Midgard, the world of men, was bright and breathtaking.

  One moment he’d been running in the snow toward a towering wall of ice, the beaked wolves panting at his back, and the next he stumbled onto a broad street. It was lined with trees that cast long shadows in the late afternoon, and something large turned the corner and headed right at him.

  A truck.

  Ella turned toward Finn who was just staring at it, breathing hard, his eyes wide.

  “Finn, move!” She was racing toward him as the truck sped down the street, her heart in her throat, and—

  She sat up in bed, struggling to draw breath.

  Finn.

  He was curled on his side, facing her. He vibrated with tension and tendons stood out in his neck like steel cables. As she reached out to shake him, she saw the threads pulsating around them.

  Her hand hovered over Finn’s shoulder. Her dark threads were bending out of shape, warping the weave, as his golden threads pulled the fabric apart, opening a hole.

  Stabilize.

  A tune sounded in her mind as she touched her threads, and she hummed along, straightening, tidying up.

  She wondered if that was the music she’d hummed as a child while the world spiraled around her — but no, this had to be a different tune. Like a lullaby, stilling the movement, fixing the rip. Not a song of war but a song of quiet.

  Finn’s eyes blinked open. He rolled on his back. The golden threads crisscrossed over his head and he stared at them, his brows pulling together. His body began to tense all over again. “That’s new music,” he muttered.

  Wrapping herself up in the comforter, she put a hand on his chest, willing him to calm down. Her own head ached dully. “What do you mean?”

  Instead, he caught her hand, pressing it to his racing heart. It beat faster and faster under her palm. “Something’s wrong.”

  She looked up. The golden threads quivered, sending ripples through the fabric, some of them writhing like snakes.

  Come to think of it, her own darker threads also moved in a strange pattern, whispering and humming.

  A new sound merged with a music — a deep rumbling that came through the walls, rattling the window.

  “Down.” Finn grabbed her and rolled over the edge of the bed, crashing to the floor. He managed to fall on his back, cushioning her fall on top of him.

  But it didn’t matter, because the next moment the window
smashed and glass and bullets rained over them. The rattle of gunfire intensified. The impacts into the wall and the drizzle of plaster and dust told her this was serious.

  This wasn’t a sniper. This was fire from submachine guns.

  They were done for.

  Had Finn foreseen this? His desperation made sense now.

  Pain seared her shoulder, making her jerk back, and then Finn rolled her to the side, covering her. “Hold on to me,” he ground out.

  And before she could answer or even think, he lifted her in his arms and stood, comforter and all, as more bullets slammed through the wall and into the furniture. He was suddenly bright like a star, his face blinding.

  A wind blew, cold and carrying the scent of fresh snow.

  The air rippled like a wave of crystal.

  Finn clutched her close, stepped backward, and then it was quiet.

  ***

  They fell through the air for what felt like forever, the wind whistling in her ears. She pressed her face to Finn’s throat and hung on for dear life as they plunged down.

  And impacted with the ground. Snow lifted in a cloud of crystals, rained on them in a shower as they sprawled — Finn on his back and her on top. The breath went out of his lungs and he stared up, unblinking for a long moment.

  She scrambled off him, suddenly terrified. “Finn!” She took him by the shoulders and shook him roughly. “Hey.”

  Finally he sucked a deep breath and coughed.

  “Jesus, you scared me. I thought...” That he’d broken his neck, that he was dead. She didn’t even want to say it out loud, so she swallowed the words and looked around, pulling the comforter over her shoulders. Her toes curled in the snow, stinging with the cold. “Where are we?”

  A gentle slope led to a stream bed where water trickled among the ice. Dark cliffs rose on either side.

  “You’re hurt.”

  Finn’s low, raspy voice turned her attention back to him. He was sitting up and rubbing his bare chest. God, it was fucking cold, and he sat in the snow buck naked. As for her, she had the comforter, but it did nothing to stop the frigid wind from slicing through her flesh.

  Maybe that was why she’d forgotten about the pain in her shoulder — caused by a bullet graze. Numbed by the cold and the shock of falling through to...

  “Is this Aelfheim?” she whispered, not sure why — there didn’t seem to be anyone around.

  Finn nodded and staggered to his feet, still wheezing. That had been a serious fall and she wondered if his ribs were bruised. But he didn’t hesitate to lift his hand to her shoulder to examine the wound.

  His fingers touched something that sent a bolt of pain down her arm, making her hiss. He bent over, scooped snow and put it on her shoulder, making her hiss again — this time because of the cold.

  Yet the pain was distant. Shock, she thought. One minute she’d been lying on the floor of her bedroom as bullets smashed through the walls, and the next she stood in Aelfheim, the world of the elves.

  Holy shit.

  Finn stepped back and wiped his hand on his thigh, leaving a streak of blood. Huh. He’d be panicking if she was bleeding to death, right?

  God, she was dying from the cold. Her feet hurt, blades of pain cutting through her soles, and the snow was melting on her shoulder, icy rivulets running down her back and between her breasts. She jerked and swept the rest of the snow off. Shudders went through her.

  The shock was definitely wearing off.

  “Mike,” she whispered, hearing again in her memory the bullets smashing through the walls. “Scott. Oh god, they may have been killed.”

  “They were going to a party,” Finn muttered.

  “But we don’t know they weren’t there, not for sure.” Another shudder went through her body, rattling her bones and teeth. “God, it’s frigging cold.”

  Finn was looking at the stream and seemed to be lost in thought. “We have to go back, take you to a doctor.” His voice was a low rumble, and it held an echo of regret. Didn’t he want to go back? Did he want to stay here?

  No, it made no sense, and she should stop imagining things. He had to be in shock, too.

  Hell, he’d opened a Gate and pulled them through. Had saved them from certain death.

  And had made full use for the first time of his ability as John Grey.

  Damn. “The tracker. Dave and the Council will know we’re gone.”

  His mouth flattened and light sprang from his skin, a glowing nimbus. The irises of his hooded eyes burned like crescent moons.

  A shadow fell on the ground, long and winding. Ella looked up, blinded by the white radiance of the overcast sky.

  Something huge was flying overhead. “Is that one of those winged snakes?”

  Finn reached for her, snagged her wrist and dragged her to him. Warmth wafted from his skin and she pressed against him, her teeth chattering.

  “Can you open another Gate so soon?” The words came mangled, her jaw was so clenched. Her feet burned with the cold so much she wanted to scream. The pain in her shoulder paled in comparison.

  The shadow of the snake was expanding; it was swooping down.

  Holy crap. She wrapped her arms around his middle and hung on tight. “Now, Finn.”

  The air exploded into shards of brilliant light, a gale of color and sound. Under her ear, which he had pressed to his chest, Finn’s heart raced away, way too fast, as if he was unraveling.

  “Ella. Keep it stable, it’s falling...” Finn’s hoarse voice came to her in waves. “Need you... steady!”

  Blindly she reached out with one hand, searching for her tune over the noise. The sound was shrill, mingling with the wind, her threads bent out of shape. She grabbed and held onto them, stopping the Gate from growing wider.

  Air whooshed around them, sucking them into an eddy. Finn hissed something she didn’t understand, his arm spasming behind her back, his fingers digging into her ribs.

  They swirled among the bright threads spanning the dark void for an endless moment, spinning in absolute silence.

  Then they were through, crashing hard into the ground.

  And this time Finn screamed.

  ***

  Freaking hell.

  They’d fallen on the sidewalk right behind their building. Smoke came from the top floor. Involuntarily she glanced up at her apartment, its smashed windows like open mouths, and shivered. She could see police cars parked along the sides. An ambulance idled near the entrance.

  Finn had somehow managed to direct them back where they’d started out.

  “Finn?”

  He lay on his back, his body rigid. He stared up at the overcast sky, his breathing shallow, and didn’t answer. Broken bones? His spine?

  By the time she’d crawled over to where he was, she thought her heart would stop. “Are you okay?”

  First thing she saw was the blood.

  Again. A constant in her life of late.

  It trickled from a deep cut in his bicep, pooling on the dark concrete. That wasn’t a broken bone.

  Pulling the wet comforter over her shoulders, she knelt by his side, dizzy and cold to the bone. Warmth trickled down her arm; the wound on her shoulder was also bleeding — maybe in sympathy.

  She braced her hands on the sidewalk and bent over him. “Finn, can you hear me?”

  His face was locked in a grimace, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He gritted his teeth. “Stop it,” he whispered.

  “Stop what?”

  Then she saw it.

  The cut was growing longer, as if an invisible blade was cutting through him. “What the hell’s happening?” she asked, her lips numb.

  Finn’s body jerked. The slice grew longer still, rapidly approaching the crook of his elbow.

  Holy crap. Come on, think, Ella. Use those precious few neurons.

  It was as if a blade was cutting him from afar. Sympathy — resonance.

  Of course. The dragon. They were hurting her to hurt Finn.

  Okay, first t
hings first. Stop the bleeding.

  She had no bandage or tourniquet so she put her hand on the wound, pinching it closed.

  Finn groaned, his face paling.

  “Stay with me, Finn.” Don’t you pass out now. She glanced around. “We have to call Dave.”

  A teenager, her face hidden in the shadow of a black hoodie, was giving her frightened glances and making a detour into the street to avoid them.

  “Hey!” She waved at the girl, saw her flinch. “Can I use your cell for a sec?”

  Dark eyes gave her a narrow look. The girl hesitated.

  No wonder. They were naked on the sidewalk, bleeding. Probably looked as if they’d escaped from a murder scene.

  “Please.” Ella’s voice cracked. “It’s an emergency.”

  The girl worried her bottom lip between her teeth. A silver hoop glinted. “Okay.” She pulled out her cell and stepped just close enough to pass it to Ella. “Were you in the building where all the shooting happened?”

  Ella didn’t bother answering. She took the cell in her bloodied hands and dialed Dave’s number. Come on, come on.

  He picked up on the second ring. “Ella? Where are you? Where’s Finn?”

  “Stop hurting the dragon.” From the corner of her eye she could see the teenager frowning. Yeah, I’m crazy. It’s a crazy world. “Right now, Dave, or you’ll kill Finn.”

  “Okay.” He barked an order to someone, then returned to the phone. “Where were you? The tracker went off the radar for a good half hour. I tried to stop them—”

  “Your tracker is malfunctioning. Tell that to your wise Council.”

  She hung up, almost missing the disconnect button, her fingers trembling. Then she called Mike. Please, be okay, please answer.

  “Can I have my cell back?” whined the teenager, still worrying that damn hoop between her teeth.

  “Just one more call,” Ella hissed under her breath. “One second.”