Captive Heart

by Anna Windsor

  Andy waved that off with one flick of the wrist. “I like Dio’s explanation better.”

  They banged open the basement door, spilled into the dark space, and Andy had about two seconds to freeze, to choke, to realize the truth.

  Here it was. This was it. The unexpected complication.

  The disaster.

  A wave of energy unlike anything she had ever experienced drove Andy to her knees.

  It hit her hard, over and over, punches she couldn’t withstand, but couldn’t surrender to, either. The energy beat her, pulled against her, sucking her essence just like a projective trap—worse than that. Infinitely, horribly worse.

  She tried to scream.

  No sound.

  She tried to breathe.

  No air.

  She pitched forward, barely catching herself on her palms. Some part of her mind was aware that her entire group had gone down with her. Fighting. But losing.

  The charm at her neck trembled against her skin, then burned her as water coated her leathers. She didn’t know where the water was coming from, but she had a horrible feeling it was rising out of her own pores.

  Life fluid.

  Leaving me.

  She tried to pull it back and couldn’t. She thought about Bela and Camille and Dio. Tried to reach out to them with her energy. Nothing happened.

  The charm got hotter. God, she wanted to rip the thing off before it branded her.

  Water poured off her skin now.

  The charm burned her until she cried out—and this time, she heard the sound. Light flared and the ground shook—

  And nothing.

  The energy bruising her inside and out vanished with a dull, listless thump, almost like an explosion in reverse. Andy gasped deep and fast, gathering air, summoning her water energy, pulling her body’s fluid and essence back where it belonged. Almost instantly, she made contact with Bela, then Dio and Camille, offering what power she could to help them, but they all seemed okay—or at least as okay as she was.

  Andy blinked at the dark basement, but couldn’t see anything near her. She couldn’t hear anything, either, but she smelled something sharp and earthy. Juniper, maybe, or some other type of evergreen. Her mind followed the scent, and the charm around her neck stayed hot as she rocked back to sit on her ass and grip the metal as her projective senses flooded around the room, searching, pushing at everything—

  There.

  Near the door.

  Four of them. No, wait. Five. Six.

  Whoever or whatever they were, they must have sensed her probing them, because they stopped moving.

  “I know you’re there.” Andy forced herself upright. She staggered, but still managed to draw her dart pistol and gather more of her elemental energy. Water trickled into the basement through the floor, the walls, the ceilings. In a few seconds she’d have enough to hit the bastards with a cold blast like a fire hose if they didn’t start acting friendly.

  Wind energy blended with her water, and Andy knew Dio had gotten to her feet. She heard the whisper of throwing knives drawn from Dio’s belt. Then came the whisper of a wicked, curved scimitar leaving its scabbard, suggesting Camille had shaken off the attack. The basement floor trembled again, and this time it was Bela who drew her serrated blade.

  “You’ve got three seconds to start talking before we wipe the floor with you,” Andy said, punctuated by Dio’s menacing battle snarl.

  One of the figures moved. Slowly. Carefully. As if deliberately trying not to incite Andy to fire or Dio to eat them.

  Why couldn’t she see the thing better? Man-shaped, definitely. Tall and heavily muscled, but her usually keen Sibyl vision seemed to have deserted her. That, or the man-thing was made out of darkness and shadows.

  It raised its hands, and a purple-black light kindled between its palms.

  Andy started to squeeze the trigger on her dart gun before the thing could take them out with whatever weird fireball it was making, but Camille yelled, “No! Wait.”

  The light over the man-thing’s head expanded until his features became more distinct, from his long black hair to his black jeans and shirt. He had arms like the most dedicated gym rat ever, and all the bare parts she could see had tribal markings that glowed black in the weird illumination. Those thighs—damn. The guy could probably crush skulls with his legs, and without much difficulty.

  “His ears are pointed,” Andy whispered to Camille. “Like the Vulcans from Star Trek. What the hell is he?”

  Camille lowered her scimitar, then sheathed it and said something in Gaelic. Andy had no idea what it was, but the man nodded, spoke a few words in return, and a few seconds later, he grew wings. Big black ones. They had feathers, but not ragged bits of fluff like the Keres—real, with rounded tips and darker patterns etched into the black down at connecting points. The light he had made hovered over him now, and Andy saw the creatures with him. Four more men came to stand beside him, and one woman. They looked enough like each other to be relatives, except the five newcomers weren’t showing their wings. Every last one of them seemed so dark and beautiful that their appearance nearly moved Andy to tears.

  “Everyone,” Camille said slowly and carefully, overenunciating like she needed to be sure she got every detail correct, “meet the Host.”

  “Oh, shit,” Dio muttered, and her wind energy whipped down to nothing.

  Andy lowered her dart pistol, but she didn’t holster it. Just because these creatures had some treaty with the fire Sibyls didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous. The Keres could have easily killed her and everybody else who trespassed on their mountain back when she killed the Leviathan. Who knew what the Host might do if they didn’t get what they wanted?

  “This is Mikeal.” Camille gestured to the Host showing his wings. “He’s like their captain. Prince, really.”

  “I’m not bowing,” Dio said in tones so low Andy barely heard her. Bela didn’t say anything, but Andy realized she hadn’t sheathed her sword, either.

  “We didn’t intend to harm you.” Mikeal was the one to bow, fast and graceful. “We didn’t realize you were so close to us. Why are you invisible to our senses?”

  Camille held up the charm around her neck. “I crafted these for my fighting group to keep our energy signatures muted. They’re elementally treated to block your ability to pick up our essence. We have enemies trying to find us, so I wanted to keep us safe.”

  Mikeal studied Camille for a few long moments, then gave Andy, Bela, and Dio similar scrutiny. As he spoke, his wings retracted, leaving him looking more human. “You have much of the old powers in you. All of you do.”

  “We’re different from most Sibyls, yes.” Camille smiled at him.

  Mikeal didn’t smile back. His attention shifted to Andy. “You are unique among your fellow warriors. We have encountered nothing like you in many, many centuries.”

  “I’m a water Sibyl,” Andy told him. “One of the few.”

  “Our people are accustomed to existing on the edge of survival.” The female member of the Host sounded almost sad. “We appreciate any creature in your position, fighting against extinction, but unwilling to cower in some distant cave just to stay alive.”

  Andy wondered if that gave her special permission to ask questions. She decided to take a risk and find out. “Why are you here?”

  Andy meant why were the Host in New York City, but Mikeal offered a more literal answer. “We have been tracking a group of sorcerers—those who pervert energies for their own purpose. They came here tonight after you did. They entered through this door. I believe they intended to trespass farther into this building, but something put them off. They fled.”

  “In disarray,” the Host woman said, obviously disgusted by such a display of cowardice.

  “The Coven was here.” Andy heard herself say the words, and gooseflesh rose across her neck. An almost-disaster. Was that what had set her instincts off about coming here tonight? “Do you know what they wanted? Do you know who or
what they were after?”

  Mikeal’s expression remained stony, made twice as severe by the strange lighting. “That we cannot tell you. We have no understanding of their purpose, only their whereabouts now and again, when we can detect their energy.”

  Andy thought about asking him why he was tracking the Coven to start with, but opted for a less direct, hopefully more respectful approach. “What did you come to New York City to find?”

  Mikeal didn’t answer, but Andy didn’t detect any malice in his silence. Whatever they were after, he considered it Host business and Host business alone.

  “If we knew, we could try to help you,” Camille said.

  Mikeal lowered his head in a quick gesture of thanks, but he said, “We don’t require assistance.”

  Dio laughed. “Of course not. That’s why you’ve been poking around here for weeks murdering grass and squirrels.”

  Camille and Bela flinched at Dio’s disrespectful tone, but Mikeal and his soldiers smiled. Maybe they liked insolence.

  Good. Andy allowed herself a measure of relief and holstered her pistol. Then we’ll all get along after all.

  Mikeal’s eyes tracked Andy’s every movement. When she finished and folded her arms, he addressed her. “Explain the term Coven. Please.”

  “The Sibyls are actively searching for thirteen men and their followers.” Andy watched the guy, thinking how much he looked like law enforcement, never mind the pointy ears and tattoos. It was something in his expression, his eyes, the way he held himself. “Sorcerers, like you said, because they pervert natural energy for their own purposes and kill innocent people. They refer to their organization as the Coven.”

  Mikeal nodded. “And the leader of this Coven, he goes by the human name Samuel Griffen.”

  “Yes.” Well, well. The Host had themselves some good intel. “You’re ahead on that one.”

  “Does this Samuel Griffen have a charm like the ones you wear?” Mikeal pointed to the crescent moon at Andy’s neck. “Is this how he hides himself and his people from our detection?”

  Andy glanced at Camille, who took the handoff smoothly. “Not exactly. Griffen crafted charms for his group out of Rakshasa demon teeth, but they have the same effect—muting elemental energy.”

  The Host exchanged looks of satisfaction, then dark, hungry anger. Andy realized they must have been deeply frustrated by their fruitless pursuits, and confused and maybe even doubting their own abilities. Now they had an explanation and an understanding of why they had been failing. They’d probably be making some changes and maybe getting some results.

  “If you would surrender your charms, we would consider it a favor,” Mikeal said, and Andy caught the strange tone in his voice. It sounded formal. Almost ritualistic. The juniper smell in the basement got stronger.

  Camille immediately removed her necklace. When Andy and Bela and Dio hesitated, she glared at them. “I can make more. Please, don’t insult them.”

  “Okay, whatever.” Andy took off her charm. Bela and Dio removed theirs, too, and they all handed them to Camille.

  Camille held out her hand, dangling the four necklaces. “May I approach safely, Mikeal?”

  He bowed, then gave his companions a quick look. The woman and the other four men put some distance between themselves and Mikeal, fading into the shadows of the basement so completely that Andy went back to thinking they might be made out of darkness.

  Mikeal beckoned for Camille. She walked toward him and held out the charms. He took them from her, and seemed to be careful to avoid touching her skin. “Thank you,” he said. Then his dark eyes seemed to gleam with a light Andy didn’t like at all. “Our bargain is sealed. We will repay you.”

  With that, the impromptu light he had created vanished, and so did he. Andy heard a few rustles, then the building’s basement door banged on its hinges.

  It took Andy’s eyes a few seconds to adjust, and when she could see normally again, Camille was still standing where Mikeal left her, staring after him with her mouth slightly open. New dread bloomed in Andy’s chest, and her skin got cold as she reached out to her sister Sibyl with her water energy.

  Surprise. Concern. Fear. Fascination. All of those emotions bubbled out of Camille before she realized Andy was sensing them and shut herself down.

  “Don’t do that.” Camille shivered, rubbing her hands against her leathers. “It makes me feel like a little girl when you tap into my feelings so easily.”

  Andy didn’t apologize. She pointed to the basement door where traces of the Host’s dark energy remained. “Mind telling us what you just did?”

  “They owe us a favor. That’s all.” Camille glanced at the door, then back to Andy. “What Mikeal asked, it wasn’t exactly a request I could refuse given their old-fashioned views on polite cooperation and exchanges of information. They would have been deeply insulted and they might have challenged us to a battle.”

  “Old-fashioned,” Bela said. “As in draconian? Sadistic? What?”

  Camille shook her head. “It’s not like that. Old-school chivalry would be closer. Look, I’m sorry. I really didn’t want to put them off, not when they were talking to us so freely.”

  “That was freely?” Dio’s sarcastic tone echoed Andy’s thoughts.

  “Yes. And they’ll repay the favor when and how they see fit. The Host are pretty fanatical about their honor.” Camille glanced at the door again. “Let’s get back to the brownstone. I need to make us new charms—with some more adjustments to the elemental locks.”

  “Yeah, those didn’t work too well against the Host, did they?” Andy asked, drawing a look of wide-eyed surprise from Camille.

  “Are you kidding? We surprised them.” Camille spread her arms wide, encompassing the whole space of the basement. “We caught a full blast of their projective energy. By all rights, we should be burned to husks on the basement floor.”

  “That’s good to know.” Dio blew the basement door open behind Camille, making her jump. “Lovely image and all, but I am so over this place. Going home now. Anybody joining me?”

  Jack got back from booking and processing the jerks the OCU had rounded up in the raid sometime around three in the morning. The minute he got to his townhouse bedroom and saw Andy, he knew something was wrong. She was all curled up in his leather chair, pale and staring at the bedroom door when he came in, and his gut clenched.

  “What?” She stood and he made it to her in three steps. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Talk to me, sweetheart. What happened?”

  “I—” Her bottom lip trembled, then she closed her mouth and looked unbearably, endlessly tired.

  Jack wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, wishing he could pour his strength and energy into her like she had done for him. He’d give her everything he had, if he could only find a way. As it was, the best he could offer was holding her up as she told him what happened at the warehouse after they parted company. The Coven showing up, maybe to screw up the raid or go after Andy and her group. The Host tracking them and spooking them off, then almost shriveling Andy when they got surprised.

  Christ.

  Jack thought about the dead leaves and dead animals in Central Park and held Andy that much tighter. He felt huge to her small, rough to her soft. His bedroom seemed unnaturally quiet as he felt her breath ripple across his neck.

  Just like that, she could have been gone. Nothing but ashes on a basement floor. That godawful image made his own breath come too short. Rage pounded through him as he tried to figure out who to kill first, but some part of his overheated brain kept hold of the fact that Andy needed him—and that he needed her to be okay. He realized he had started touching her, running his hands along her back and hips and arms just to be sure she really was whole and healthy.

  “I’m fine,” she murmured as he kissed her, but he couldn’t accept that even as he savored the press of her warm lips against his, even as she bit his bottom lip and made him half insane with sudden, desperate need.


  He’d almost lost her again, and this time, he hadn’t even been there to make a difference. A tiny bit of treated metal and a whole lot of luck had saved her life. She moved against him, unbuttoning his shirt and jeans as he unzipped her leathers. Jack pushed the stiff sleeves down from her shoulders, freeing her arms, barely stopping their kisses long enough to get the damned suit out of his way.

  Crazy.

  Yeah, that word was more and more his reality. He had to have her. He had to have her right now, and he’d take her hard, make her crazy, too, make her scream, make her promise never, ever to put herself in that much danger again.

  “I need you,” she whispered, blasting his body to a new level of heat and want. She gave herself up to him so easily, so completely, letting him take control and finish stripping off their clothes. Jack kissed her head, her face, her ear, her neck. He nibbled the soft flesh above her collarbone, tasting the light salt of her skin and drinking in her exquisitely feminine smell. Vanilla. Oceans. Woman. All natural. All sweet. More intoxicating than any liqueur. The sight of her bare breasts, her tight nipples, and the red triangle of hair below made him wonder if he’d gone demon himself. She made him hurt. She made him burn. He could turn into a beast like some crazed werewolf. If anything ever happened to Andy, he would transform into something other, something dark and soulless and full of murder. No question about that now.

  “Beautiful,” he said into her ear, molding her body to his, stroking her everywhere he could reach. “You’re more than beautiful. You’re everything.”

  “I love how you feel, Jack.”

  Damn. He was already so hard he thought he might explode, and the sound of her sexy voice nearly made him come unhinged.

  Jack managed a single “I love you.” Then he lifted Andy off her feet, carried her to his bed, and spread her out beneath him, straddling her hips and gazing down at her supple muscles, at her creamy skin, at the way her eyes had gone smoky brown and her pretty lips parted with pleasure as he caressed her shoulders and arms.

  When he cupped her bare breasts and closed his fingers around her hard nipples, she moaned.