by Bonnie Vanak
But striking as she was, it was the grief that called to him.
He longed to wipe away her tears with the edge of a thumb, coax a smile to that down-turned mouth. Matt focused all his efforts.
Please, he thought desperately. Look at me.
* * *
Sienna McClare was Fae, accustomed to open air and field. Not this boxy subway car.
The oily smell of fear clogged her nostrils, leached from her pores. The train with its human cargo felt like a coffin. The scent of humans mingled with something darker and more sinister. She was trapped. No way out of this speeding deathtrap. Panic surged, bright and sharp.
Breathe. Just breathe.
She inhaled deeply and thought of deep green forests and quiet glades. Tall pines waving in the wind, the chatter of birds and scolding of squirrels, a deer cropping grass. A wolf watching a deer, waiting. Prey. Images of fangs flashing, tearing, wet sounds…
No!
She fought the panic freezing her blood. Draicon werewolves were vicious killers. Merciless as her father—the man who’d raped her Fae mother and then killed her when his pack attacked her mother’s Fae colony after his pack returned for Sienna.
Air blew through the vents, but it wasn’t enough to banish the smell of humans. They belonged to someone. She did not. Not in this city with its neon lights and busy streets.
Or anywhere.
Sienna hated glamouring herself as a Draicon werewolf, but it was necessary if she were to find the Orb of Light. Someone had stolen the Orb from her colony, the Los Lobos Fae. A Draicon who’d been seen in the area previously was suspected. Sienna had eagerly seized the chance to help when Chloe, leader of the Fae colony, had approached her and promised that once she found the Orb and returned it to them, she’d receive a hero’s welcome back into her colony. No longer would she be an Outcast. The Fae would not pretend she was invisible. They’d cast her out when she was older and able to survive on her own, because she was a hybrid. The bastard child of a sweet-faced Fae and a Draicon killer. Her mother’s people had raised her with love and affection, making her feel accepted, and then, eight months ago when she turned twenty-one and was considered an adult, they’d kicked her out.
If she found the Orb, Sienna could return to the only home she’d known. I just want things to go back to the way they were.
In two hours, she’d meet with a U.S. Navy SEAL assigned to help her find the Orb. Chloe had been vague about details. Sienna didn’t care if it meant working with the devil himself. She’d do it.
Sensing someone staring, she glanced up and focused on a man across the aisle. He was heavily muscled, wore a black leather jacket, black jeans and boots. Dark, wavy hair wreathed a solemn, handsome face with brutal cheekbones, a square chin. Eyes as blue as the ocean studied her.
Power and confidence radiated from him. He had a hard edge, as if he could cut with knifelike precision through every bad element that ever rode a N.Y. subway. Yet he had the face of a gentle warrior. Sienna’s breath caught. She felt a stir of sexual chemistry.
He was as lonely and grief-stricken as she was. Her heart twisted. Who had hurt this man? She wanted to go to him, comfort him and ease his sorrow. Sienna smiled.
A crooked, charming smile touched his full mouth. Twin dimples appeared on those taut cheeks, making him appear younger and boyish. She felt all her own pain slowly evaporate. Gods, he was handsome.
An odd connection flared between them. Sienna locked her gaze to his, desperately needing someone who understood.
Then her nostrils flared as she caught his scent. Hatred boiled to the surface. Not a man. Draicon.
The enemy.
* * *
Matt willed the woman across the aisle to connect with him. He assumed a nonthreatening posture, his arms open, palms spread.
Come on, sweetheart. Smile at me. You’re not alone. We’re the only Draicon in this steel cage.
Hope surged as a small but vital connection flared between them. He leaned forward, his heart beating fast. Their gazes caught and met. The woman pushed at her mink-brown hair, and gave a small, shy smile.
He let his own smile widen, let her see the pull of sexual awareness between them. Interest flared in her gaze, and she tilted her head.
Then suddenly her smile wobbled. She made a moue of disgust. Slipping her shoe back on, she shook her head.
“Draicon dog.”
The word was a low mutter, but his sensitive hearing caught it as if it were shouted. Stunned, he sank back into his seat. She called him one of the most filthy insults among their kind.
Ice slid over his heart, made his spine rigid. Matt felt his smile crack like brittle glass.
Then he gave her a long, cool look and turned away. Ignoring her, as she’d ignored him.
Reeling in his control, he resisted the urge to punch the wall again. Matt folded his arms, stretching the shoulders of his battered leather jacket. He dragged in a deep, calming breath.
And smelled something dark and foul.
His gaze landed on a man in a suit. Italian, expensive. But the wearer had cold, dead eyes. He stared at the Draicon female as if she were steak. Matt inhaled again, catching the scent of shaved metal and putrid sickness. He briefly touched the man’s mind and reeled back from the dark images there.
Not good.
The subway stopped at the Canal Street station. The Draicon female gave one last disgusted look at Matt and slipped out of the car.
The human suit followed, his expression hungry.
Matt leaped up as the doors began to close. Werewolf strength easily held them open and he bounded onto the platform.
The woman was in danger. And he couldn’t ignore a threatened female, no matter how badly she’d treated him.
Both had vanished into a tunnel leading to another platform, but he caught their scents. Matt tracked them, increasing his pace. Worry stabbed him. The tunnel was well lit, but he’d seen that man’s expression, smelled his lust.
The business suit intended to rape her.
Not on my watch.
Wolf snarled to the surface. Down, boy. He resisted shifting into his animal side. A wolf stalking through the subways would attract attention. He could handle this as a human. The Sig Sauer holstered at his side was an old friend, but his hands were weapons, as well. He could kick that guy’s ass for daring to even think about hurting a woman.
Heels click-clacked ahead of him, the sharp tap of the woman’s shoes and the brisk sounds of the suit. Matt hugged the wall, every sense screaming awareness.
There.
Before a short set of stairs, the suit had pinned the woman against the wall. No one else was around. Black briefcase lying on the cement, opened, papers spilled out. The suit flashed a dark smile, his fingers splayed along the female’s throat. Light glinted off the polished metal of the knife he held against her throat. A thin trickle of blood dripped onto her pristine white collar.
Matt suppressed a low growl and remained still, gauging the best move. He didn’t want one more drop of blood spilled. Except from that bastard.
Even as he started forward, his footsteps silent, the woman glanced at him. She rolled her eyes. At the very same time, the attacker turned his head.
Matt sprang forward, but the woman punched her would-be molester in his soft stomach, sending him reeling. Cursing, he raced forward.
The suit recovered, his face tomato-red. He came at her, the wicked blade raised.
She snarled and flung out her hands, raising her shoe. Her pointed shoe. The tip landed straight in the man’s groin.
Wincing, Matt watched as the suit let out a high-pitched, unholy scream. He cupped his groin, the knife tumbling to the floor with a clatter.
The woman kicked him again. This time the man yowled like a cat. The Draicon female studied him with a look of satisfaction.
Matt squatted down besides the attacker, squeezed a nerve on his shoulder. The suit fell unconscious as the Draicon female retrieved a cell phone from her briefcase. She thu
mbed in 911 and spat out instructions, then hung up.
Blood dripped from the small wound, staining the white collar of her shirt.
“You can leave now,” she told Matt in a rigid voice.
The dismissal was curt and brisk. Matt stared in disbelief.
“I know you’re not deaf, because I saw your reaction when I called you a dog. So, are you going to leave? I’ve got this.”
He gritted his teeth. “I was trying to help.”
She rolled those lovely eyes again. “Thanks for the help, hero.”
“He cut you.” His tone was curt, hiding the concern.
She wiped the droplets off her neck. “It’s just a flesh wound.”
At his hard stare, she shook her head and bent over, showing the delectable curve of her bottom as she gathered papers into her briefcase. “Not a Monty Python fan. ’Course not. Draicon hotshots like you prefer Lassie. Although I doubt you have half the strength of Lassie.”
“Stop it.”
Glancing up, her eyes widened at his sharp tone. He clenched his fists as she snapped the briefcase shut.
“You can defend yourself. I get it. You don’t want help. I don’t need an instruction manual. But the Lassie dig—” Matt struggled with his rising temper “—has to go. I don’t know who knocked the brick off your pretty little shoulder, sweetheart, but it wasn’t me. So ditch the dog references, got it?”
He heaved in a controlling breath. “I’m not your enemy.”
Eyes wide and green as soft moss held his gaze for a moment. The previous misery had returned, making her look vulnerable and young.
“That’s what you think,” she said softly.
With a sharp turn of her polished heels, she slipped up the stairs and vanished from sight.
Matt rubbed his aching neck. This had been the ultimate bitch of a morning.
Couldn’t wait to see what the afternoon would bring. Lieutenant Commander Dale “Curt” Curtis, commanding officer of SEAL Team 21, had scheduled a top-secret briefing about the pyrokinetic demons who’d targeted Matt and Adam. His C.O. had told Matt to prepare for a new assignment.
With a new partner.
Even though he dreaded the idea of a new partner, Matt welcomed the chance to kick demon ass. If a new partner meant finding the leak, so be it.
As for the lovely, contemptuous Draicon… An ominous foreboding filled him.
He had a bad feeling he would see her again.
Very soon.
Chapter 2
The upscale hotel in Times Square boasted a grand view of the bustling streets and the colorful theater marquees. Sienna tapped her foot as she waited in the crowded lobby bar. Odd place for a meeting.
She ran a finger down the glass of water, catching a drop of condensation. Sienna brought it to her mouth, slowly licked it off. She sensed someone staring, and turned.
Son of a jackal…
Leather Jacket Draicon focused on her with a laser blue stare. Those eyes tracked every move her finger made, his gaze smoldering, his mouth compressed.
Had he followed her? And why? Her heart pounded hard at the idea. She studied the werewolf.
Heat surged through her, curling the tips of her toes in their not-so-sensible heels. He resembled a fallen angel with a face sculpted by an artisan’s chisel and cold blue eyes that could cut steel. Limbs sprawled out before him in a position of utter confidence, he looked dangerous.
He shifted position, the move opening his jacket and revealing a pistol strapped to his side. Sienna felt blood drain from her face.
Armed all this time.
Not a man, or a Draicon, to mess with.
As if he read her mind, he lifted the mug of beer in a mock salute and drank deeply. Fascinated, she watched the muscles in his throat work. He set down the glass, his gaze never leaving her as he backhanded his mouth.
“Woof,” he murmured.
Then he stood, dropping a few bills on the table, and left. Crimson flooded her cheeks. I deserved that.
“Oh, I love your Jimmy Choos!”
Startled, she turned. A buxom blonde in a print dress stood before her table. At her side was a severe-looking businessman, a hint of silver in his short-cropped dark hair. He carried an expensive leather briefcase and wore a gray suit with a crisp red tie. The blonde was gorgeous. She carried a large designer purse on her arm and was staring at Sienna’s footwear.
Rather, her legs.
“Such fabulous shoes,” she gushed. “They display your legs nicely. You have great legs.”
“Samantha’s a connoisseur of fine footwear,” the man said. He gave her a small smile. “I apologize for taking up your time.”
The woman simpered, and squeezed Sienna’s hand. “Have a lovely day, darling!”
As they walked off, Sienna glanced down at her palm. In it was a card key in a white envelope that had instructions printed across it.
Her contacts. In disguise, most likely.
As her heart raced with trepidation, she put the card in her purse. This was worse than she’d been told if they couldn’t even meet in the open. Maybe she should back off. It wasn’t too late.
And then what? Go home in defeat? Live alone for the rest of her life, wondering what the black hole in her mind hid?
Finding the Orb meant more than acceptance back into her Fae colony. It meant recovering her lost memories. Everything in her early childhood was a panicked blur. Flashes of a forest, quiet waters and the terror of being shoved into a dark hollow, screams of terror raging around her, a hot crimson igniting the night sky… The snarls of a wolf, teeth bared as it tore into throats, blood splashing and flowing like water…then darkness.
A distant memory tugged, too deeply buried to surface. Every time she tried searching for her past, she met with a closed door. Who was she? Which side ruled her?
Fae or Draicon?
Draicon, no way in hell.
Sienna paid her bill, leaving a generous tip. As instructed, she took the elevator down, then lingered in the lobby for ten minutes, made certain no one was following her, then went upstairs.
The room had a connecting door. She opened it and entered a lavish suite.
The woman named Samantha was inside, sweeping the walls with a device that resembled the metal wand employed by airport security staff. She finished and turned with a cheerful grin. “Nothing. Clean. Not even a bedbug.”
Mischief danced in her brown eyes. “Need to check you, Miss McClare. A total pat-down. Don’t worry, I’m a professional when it comes to frisking women.”
She didn’t like the idea of this woman checking her over. It made her nervous. “Why the search? And the covert activity?”
“Can’t take any chances,” Samantha said.
“I can assure you, I’m not hiding anything.” Sienna clasped her hands, willed a smile. If this woman searched her, she’d get too nervous. Drop the glamour. The glamour fed her confidence, enabled her to look cool and professional.
Samantha gave her body an admiring glance. “Ah, not quite. There is definitely something about you.”
“Any excuse to flirt, huh, Shay?”
That deep, drawling voice, smooth as the burn of whiskey sliding down a parched throat. Sienna’s heart went still as Leather Jacket Draicon ambled with lethal grace through the connecting door, joined by the same dark-haired man who’d accompanied Samantha in the lobby bar.
The Draicon halted and stared. Ice glittered in his sharp blue gaze as he closed the door.
“You? Hell on wheels, this has to be a damn joke. Who are you?” he snapped.
The dark-haired man gestured to the Draicon. “Sienna McClare, meet Lieutenant Matthew Parker, U.S. Navy SEAL. Matt, Sienna’s Seelie Sidhe Fae from the Los Lobos colony.”
Lieutenant Parker looked stunned. “She’s a Draicon.”
“I’m not.”
“Prove it, sweetheart.” His voice was low and dangerous. “Because if you’re one, and not the Fae we’re expecting, you’re in a heap of tro
uble.”
All three looked at her. Sienna forced down her nervousness. She released the glamour to show her natural form. Pale, nearly translucent skin replaced the slightly darker tint. Her eyes became larger and more slanted. She pushed back her hair to display her pointed ears.
“There. Satisfied? I’m Fae, not a Draicon werewolf. Now, can I ask, what’s going on and who you are?”
The dark-haired man gave a slight smile. “Lieutenant Commander Dale Curtis, commanding officer of SEAL Team 21. Sorry for the precautions, Miss McClare. It’s necessary for security reasons. Lieutenant Parker will be partnering with you on this mission….”
“I’m sorry. I can’t work with this man.”
“Sit down, Miss McClare.”
The order was said in a soft tone, but steel threaded through the commander’s voice. Sienna sat, clenching her hands, refusing to look at the Draicon.
“Let’s get one thing straight before we start,” Lieutenant Commander Curtis said as he joined her. “This arrangement goes against my guts. I wanted my team alone on this. It’s too risky. The Fae are insular. Your aunt didn’t even want to meet. We had to work out details in a damn telephone conference. Unfortunately, she had a point. And a weapon I can’t do anything about. She can control the weather.”
Now a grim smile played on his mouth. “Unless I’d like a permanent hailstorm in Little Creek, we have to work together. You know the Orb, and your ability to glamour is powerful. I agreed to this, but no Fae is going to dictate the SEAL I chose. I don’t care if my house gets pelted by hail for the next thirty days. You’re with Matt. He’s a damned fine tracker. He could find an ice cube in a snowstorm.”
Sienna’s cheeks burned. She gestured to the blonde, who looked amused at the tension.
“I’d rather work with a woman,” she told him. “What about her? I don’t need a navy SEAL.”
Lieutenant Parker laughed. “Shay?”
Stunned, she watched Samantha’s body and face shimmer, and change shape. Full, lush lips became firm, the round cheekbones concave…
Replacing Samantha was a man dressed in black jeans and a cutoff black T-shirt. A shock of sandy-brown hair spilled down to his collar. Boyish mischief danced in his hazel eyes as he took a seat opposite her.
