Winter Warriors

by Denise A. Agnew

  Rhys watched them all the way out of the cave, not losing eye contact with them for a moment. When they stepped into the passage, he finally faced toward the tunnel entrance.

  “You lead. I’m keeping them at bay.”

  She led him down the concrete path.

  The dim light outside seemed brilliant compared to the passage. She slipped around the ice curtain, sensing now that she led the both of them, that Rhys was pre-occupied and not focused on where they were going.

  As they stepped out onto the ground beyond the stream, a wave of fury washed over her, emanating from the cave.

  Chapter Eight

  Rhys hurried her away from the cave, towards the trees that ringed the little clearing around the frozen stream. He stayed away from the path that led back to the car park, pushing through fresh snow instead, bringing her with him.

  He whirled, just as Jenna felt a ripple down her spine. Something was coming out of the cave behind them.

  From the bowels of the earth came the wolf’s cry—a mournful, drawn out sound.

  The three men spilled out into the snow, pushing through it towards where they stood at the end of the clearing. And behind the men came Clement Hine. He watched his men’s slow progress across the knee high field of snow for a moment, then lifted his head and called in the ululating tongue he had used earlier.

  Crunching running footsteps came from the path to the parking area, and five more men ran into the clearing, spreading out to circle around them.

  “Oh shit…”

  “Stay behind me.”

  She shook her head. “No, Rhys. I can stop Hine. I did before. That was me, wasn’t it?”

  He glanced at her. “Yes.”

  “Then you take care of the rest of them. Can you?”

  He lifted a single brow. “Do I have a choice?” He turned away before she could answer, to face the approaching men.

  Jenna faced Hine as he walked directly towards her. His eyes glittered strangely in the half-light, almost golden like those of the wolves in the cave.

  Remember he can command elements.

  Hine lifted his hand toward her, and pushed. It came at her, a hot ball of air. She pushed back, throwing up a mental wall. But even this time she did it to protect Rhys rather than herself.

  The force dissipated, and Hine nodded as if he had confirmed something. “You’re coming into your full power.” His voice fell flat, out here in the open. “How nice. But no shield you could throw up can stop a physical attack.”

  “I’d welcome a physical attack.” It was simple truth. A physical fight would put this into her territory—well-worn ground where she remained master.

  The first of the men reached Rhys, who tackled him with a grunt of effort, knocking the man onto his back. The man didn’t get up again. Two more were coming in. Too fast. Instinctively, she shot out her hand, palm first. She felt the surge leap from her, and the two men flew backwards, one of them taking out a third coming up behind. They rolled across the snow, but they were not out of the equation completely. She hadn’t put that sort of force into it.

  “I hope you know how to multi-task,” Hine called out, and she felt him launch another attack. She deflected it quickly, unable to diffuse it completely.

  “Tree!” Rhys cannoned into her, sending her staggering across the snow. Behind her she heard the sharp crack and squealing sound of a falling tree. But Rhys’ shove had pushed her out of the way.

  Before she could recover, Hine threw another volley at her, and shadowy men leapt over the fallen trunk, rushing at Rhys. She deflected the volley, throwing it straight at the men, and they flew aside like bowling pins.

  They were at a standoff. Hine could keep throwing men or more at them all night, until fatigue set in and they were overcome. But they didn’t have all night. Her internal clock told her they had only a few short minutes left.

  Unsure of whether it could work or not, Jenna lifted her hands up high into the air, together, pointing. Through them she pushed a surge, then spread her arms, describing an arc that enveloped the two of them. She turned 360 degrees so it became a hemisphere. A shield. She poured all of her will and determination into it.

  And watched with detached interest as the man closest to them walked straight into the perimeter of it, and fell backwards like he had hit a wall.

  Rhys, behind her, spoke quietly. “Watch Hine, Jenna. He will test you. No one has ever been able to do this, and his ego won’t allow him defeat.”

  “Just try me.” Jenna scowled at Hine. He strode forward, fury radiating from him. Even though the shield she had thrown up was invisible, she knew exactly where it reached. The moment Hine connected with it, she felt the impact, the surge of rage and fury. But he could not take another step forward, because she pushed back, her own anger rising. He was just a bully. And the way to deal with bullies was to give them their own medicine back twofold.

  She shoved. Hard.

  Hine flew backwards, to sprawl in the snow. He sat up and snarled again. “So be it. I cannot tame you, but I can stop the binding!” He turned and looked towards the frozen waterfall, and shot out his hand towards it.

  “The cave! No!” Rhys staggered forward through the thigh-high snow.

  A dreadful cracking sounded. Crunching rumbling noise came from higher up the side of the mountain. From the riverbed over the top of the frozen river came an avalanche of ice and snow, broken trees and rocks. It thundered down in front of the cave entrance, bringing down the curtain of ice with it. The vibrations of the fall traveled up through her feet, and the displaced air lifted her hair from her neck, ruffling it.

  When silence fell again, the cave entrance was completely blocked.

  Hine, propped up on one elbow, laughed loudly. “Even you cannot stop that!”

  For a moment all was still in the clearing, even Hine’s men pausing to stare in awe at the destruction, and the muffled, eerie silence dropped over them once more.

  And was broken by a slow, long cracking sound.

  “Ice. The ice,” Rhys looked around. “Where is it?”

  “We’re okay.” She watched Hine. Had he seen it? Did he realize his danger?

  Hine lay shouting at his men, encouraging them to move in now that Jenna had dropped her shield, totally unaware of the danger.

  “Hine!” Jenna called. “Move. You’re on the ice, Hine.”

  The cracking, groaning, grinding sound came louder now.

  “Hine!” Jenna rushed forward.

  He stopped shouting, looking down at the snow beneath him as it moved. Horror spread across his features, but it was already too late. The ice sheet, separated from all anchors, bobbed unbalanced with his weight on it. It tilted just like a dump truck, sliding Clement Hine into the cold waters flowing beneath the ice. He flailed, screaming, but the ice sheet, now back in balance, fell back into place over the top of him like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

  Jenna turned away, sickened. A couple of his men ran to where Hine had disappeared, but there would be nothing they could do.

  The solstice, Jenny.

  She whirled back to Rhys, and saw he was struggling with a solitary figure, the last to offer any resistance. She reached out and brushed the man aside casually, and he was flung away. Already she noticed the difference in the surges she pushed out. They were stronger; they pulsed through her with an almost pleasurable rush. Rhys had been right—much of this was intuitive. She just knew what to do.

  Then Rhys fell to his knees in a tired heap, and all her confidence evaporated in an instant. She hurried forward, the snow dogging her every step, until she dropped beside him. He leaned on one hand, the other hand clasped to his stomach.

  Fear sat like a heavy imp on her chest, and grabbed her throat. She couldn’t speak.

  Rhys!

  He lifted his head to look at her. “A bloody knife.” He coughed. “I didn’t see it in the dark, until it was too late.”

  He collapsed into the snow.

  Her fe
ar leapt high within her. “No, no, no…” She scrambled to roll him over. She sat in the snow, and picked him up in her arms, and caught her breath as the black shadow across the snow was revealed. His blood. She shook him a little.

  “Rhys! Stay with me.”

  Solstice. You must go.

  “I can’t go anywhere now. The cave is blocked.”

  Jump.

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  Have to. I’ve done my job…

  Even his mental voice was fading. Sobs tore at her chest. Hot tears burned her cheek. But she ignored it all, as she delved deep with her mind, searching for him.

  Stay, Rhys! I need you!

  Silence.

  She looked around at the three men still standing. They watched her, wary. “Go away!” She looked at the cave entrance, wearing its own impenetrable shield of ice. Jump, he’d said. He’d assumed she could do it.

  She closed her eyes, and thought of the cave, holding Rhys tightly to her. He’d shown her his own jump, the day they’d met. How he’d leaned towards the place, yearned to be there. So she thought of the cave, with longing and despair. She must get Rhys out of this snow, into warmth, light, love.

  And suddenly she was there, the twinkling light from the ice all around her, and Rhys lay in her arms. They were in the center of the circle, the wolves ranged around them. She held Rhys to her, feeling with her hand for a heartbeat and finding none.

  The solstice was nearly on her. The energy of the field, built, swirling, like an orgasm rushing at her. She reached out with her mind, searching for him, calling.

  And felt him echo back. It was enough. She grasped and held on, just as the surge ripped through her, feeling like a blast of light, or hot air, a call of trumpets, or all of it. From far away, she heard the wolves give voice. She lifted up, up, higher, to float for an endless moment of time, before the surge moved beyond her.

  * * * * *

  She blinked, and found she still sat on the hard rock of the cave floor, and Rhys still lay in her arms. She wiped at her wet cheeks and sniffed mightily. “Rhys?” she whispered.

  I’m here…I’m really here. Amazement flooded him, as he grappled with the facts.

  “You told me yourself the circle can heal.”

  He reached for his side, and probed, then held up his fingers to examine them. Traces of blood from his shirt colored them, but that was all. “Sure, fevers, sickness…I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a six-inch knife wound being healed.”

  “Guess there’s a first for everything.”

  He sat up, moving gingerly. “But I have a hell of a headache.” He looked at her. “You did it, Jenny. You brought both of us over.”

  She nodded. “I appear to have chosen.”

  He cupped her cheek. “You surrendered to your fate.”

  “Screw fate. I chose you. And anyway—” she moved her cramped legs “—now that I got through the solstice, and you got me here, aren’t we done with the fate thing? Neither of us have any more destinies lined up, do we?”

  He laughed—a carefree, happy sound, and sat up properly himself. “Oh, just a long lifetime of trying to keep humans from destroying themselves several times over every time they dream up a new and exotic blend.”

  “Hell, that’s what I’ve been doing for the last ten years.”

  He kissed her. “Let’s go home.”

  She picked up his hand, not sure if she needed the physical contact or not to make this work, and looked at him. “Where is home?” she asked. “For you, I mean?”

  “Wherever you are, Jenny.”

  * * * * *

  In his big bed that night, Jenna turned to him. “Doesn’t it bother you that despite your heritage, your…upbringing, and all your years of experience and wisdom, I come waltzing along and can do more than you have ever been able to achieve?”

  Rhys stopped brushing his fingers through her hair. “It would bother me more if you turned your back on those gifts, and walked away from the duties they lay upon you.”

  “So…the fact that I am more powerful than you isn’t an issue?”

  “You’re only more powerful in one respect.” Quickly, surprising her, he flipped her onto her back, and anchored her wrists beneath his hands, and straddled her, holding her down on the mattress.

  “Brute strength…the emphasis on ‘brute’.” Never in a million years would she admit that the show of strength made her heart flutter and her belly roll in a weak, feminine way.

  He laughed down at her. “You could toss me across the room if you wanted. Why don’t you?”

  “I don’t need to prove a point you’re perfectly aware of.” She tried to sound prim and pissed, but it didn’t work, because her voice had got throaty, betraying how much she enjoyed being at his mercy.

  He leaned down to nuzzle at the silk of her nightdress where it lay over her breast, while keeping her arms pinned, and she gasped as his tongue lapped at her nipple, and his teeth nipped the tight, hard bud. Hot languorous desire spread through her, and she sighed. He transferred his attention to the other breast, stroking the flesh through the thin silk with his tongue, before bathing the nipple itself. The soft lapping and stroking, the caresses, echoed by the wet fabric stretched over her nipples, soon had her writhing beneath him, her hips pushing into his bare thighs. His cock had hardened and stood at sharp attention, and his balls brushed against her abdomen as she moved restlessly beneath him.

  Slowly, he moved backwards, and his cock slid over her pussy, a gentle caress. But still he did not let her wrists go. Instead he used his teeth to tug her nightdress up, until the hem fluttered around her waist. Then he trailed his tongue and lips across her abdomen, down to the hair-covered cleft.

  She gasped as he slid his tongue inside her, lapping at her copious juices, before sliding up to her clit and kissing it, making her buck hard. He flicked at the swollen flesh with his tongue, and with each stroke, Jenna quivered. Her breath came in dry pants.

  She caught a sense/image from Rhys: his deep pleasure at being able to make her squirm, to feel her writhe beneath him, and to make her come, to feel her contracting around his cock in endless orgasmic waves.

  Yes, now, she told him.

  He slid into her and she gasped again…she would never tire of the sensation of that first thrust, feeling him slip into her. She gave Rhys that image/feeling.

  “I see…” He studied her face as he slowly thrust into her again. “Ah, your face when you are deep in your own pleasure…you are truly beautiful. And I am truly blessed.”

  She gasped as he thrust again. “Not if you linger like that.” Her body trembling around him, desperate for more.

  He teased her with another few, painfully slow thrusts, but then even he could no longer dam the flood. Jenna watched his orgasm build, and dipped into his mind as it came. He felt the touch, welcomed it, opening himself up to her. She was caught up in the rushing heated wave of excitement building in him. It tipped her over into her own hard, convulsive climax, clenching around his cock, stroking him with the sheath of muscle. Their minds mingled, drowning in pleasure.

  I have waited for you forever. And now you are here.

  She nodded, hearing the truth in his thoughts, and marveled at how easily she could now accept such an astonishing statement. If I had only known, I, too, would have waited.

  You are what you are. Thank god. It was a heartfelt endorsement that warmed her with its sincerity. I think…he continued, his mental voice already slipping towards sleep…you had to have the life you did before I found you. It would not have worked any other way.

  But I have missed years we could have had together! Sadness touched her. All that wasted time!

  But we will have many more, he reminded her. This time, the gods were kind. Cara ‘ch Jenny.

  She didn’t need to know Welsh to know what he had said. She was awash in his love and regard…this man who had crossed history for her.

  The End

  Turkish Delight


  by

  Rosemary Laurey

  Chapter One

  Istanbul: Thursday

  She’d sworn she’d never do this again. So much for oaths and promises. Not only had she come to meet Paul, but she was seriously considering accepting another assignment. Or was she? Nur Aydan looked down at the narrow street below. A party of tourists, like a pack of sheep, with digital cameras instead of bells around their necks, paused as their guide indicated the building opposite: a former Ottoman merchant’s house. The tourists hung on every word of the patter, soaking up a mass of historical inaccuracies about life in the harem, while a few meters overhead, stood a true relic of the past—a moroii—a living vampire, blood-linked to the gypsies who roamed the reaches of the empire in the days of the sultans. A moroii employed, to her mother’s constant worry, as a secret agent by the Special Investigations Agency.

  Heaven help her! She was thinking like Aunt Zenip, who endlessly lamented lost glories of the Empire and times long gone. Meanwhile… Nur turned back to Paul Morel, seated on the divan in the corner. “I’m not ready for another job, Paul. Give me some time.”

  “This isn’t a real job, Nur. All it will take is a weekend. You’ll be back by Monday. It’s what our English friends would call a ‘doodle’.”

  “I think you mean a ‘doddle’.”

  “Ah! You agree.”

  “How can I agree, when I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

  “How about an all-expenses paid holiday?”

  The man was a comedian as well as a spymaster. “I’ve earned it after that last job. How about a week or two in Antakya?”

  “A weekend in England.”

  “At this time of year? Forget it. I’ll take Iskenderun if Antakya is all booked up, but—”

  “Nur! Will you listen?”

  She should have expected that. Walking back to the cheap divan against the wall, she sat down. This place got shabbier each time they met, but neither of them came for the decor. She folded her arms on her chest, leaned back against the pillows, and eyeballed Paul Morel. “I’m listening.”