She looked up from her musings to see Liz and Sylvain arguing vehemently with Lux. The two older women, Priestess Magriel and the Were healer Mysha, had left the room, but the Deva founder and Lux’s grathita wanted to go after the Weres, to find Jasyn.
Sylvain growled in aggravation at Lux’s negative response. “You heard Mysha. She said the mark is part of a set. That means until we find its match we cannot fully remove it. Not without losing Nicolette forever. Jasyn has to have been marked as well. I can find them easily, Lux. You know I can.”
Liz nodded sharply. “As can I. I don’t have the same control over the elements as your mate does, Sariel, but I had one hell of a mentor. Malcolm was an amazing tracker, you know that. And Jasyn’s scent is a familiar one. We are running out of time, Healer. We need to go. Now.”
Hannah saw Liz clench her fists, standing toe to toe with Lux Sariel, as she would with anyone who dared to stand in her way. Jasyn deserved a mate with that kind of strength. She was wallowing. She needed to pay attention.
Lux sighed. “Okay, okay. You win. I want Arygon’s brother back just as much as you do. But we need a better plan than leap-first-worry-about-safety-later. I will not put any of you in danger. Not with this kind of enemy. Not when there is so much we don’t know. Let’s talk to Zander.”
Sylvain’s face softened, and she leaned into her mate. Hannah knew how Grey Wolf had killed Lux’s previous lover. Sylvain’s own father, the leader of the Shadow Wolves, had almost killed both her and Arygon, reinforcing Lux’s overprotective nature.
Liz was not as sympathetic. “You’ve grown soft with mates and children. You and Zander both.”
Lux’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do not mistake precaution for weakness, Elizabeth. You know the cost better than most. Spend the night here, near Nicolette. Let us do this the right way. Tomorrow will come soon enough.”
He led Sylvain out of the room, her attention so focused on her mate that she didn’t notice Hannah huddled in the shadows. Liz paced the edge of the bed, reminding Hannah of a caged jungle cat.
Nicolette had told her once that Liz, for all her tough exterior, was the most vulnerable woman she’d ever known, but it was hard for Hannah to believe. The firebrand with brilliant green eyes and wild, auburn curls, all the more feminine for her skin tight leather pants and shirtless vest—she was the kind of woman you wanted on your side in a bar fight, and far away from your significant other. Hannah envied her.
“Nic, what were you doing in Malcolm’s rooms? In Abaddon manor? What kind of trouble did you get yourself into?” Liz sat beside Hannah’s beautiful sire, lifting one lax hand in her own. “I should have been here, I should be lying there.” A sound like a sob escaped her lips, causing Hannah to bite her lip in surprise. “I’ll fix this. I can fix this.”
Liz stood abruptly, head lowered as she rushed out the door. Hannah knew she wouldn’t let it go. It wasn’t in her nature. She would find the answers, find Jasyn and save Nicolette. She should feel relieved, shouldn’t she?
“She can’t do it alone. It’s too big.”
Hannah yelped in surprise, falling off the couch to land hard on her behind. Her jaw dropped as she took in the three small, stunningly beautiful children standing above her. Six-year-old Alexei and his three-year-old cousins, twins Rhys and Pax.
She felt a flutter of longing in her stomach at the sight of them. Pax had her mother’s silver blonde hair but the Sariel blue eyes. Rhys looked so much like his uncle Jasyn it made her ache. She’d always imagined having his child from the moment she’d first seen him rising naked from Lago Maggiore. A dark fantasy come to life.
Shaking her head to dislodge the vision, she smiled. “Alexei, you scared me. What are you pipsqueaks doing here?”
Alexei held out his hand to help her up, his expression grave beneath his adorable blond curls. “We don’t have much time. We are blocking our parents for now. We wanted to talk to you about Aunt Nicolette.”
“And Uncle Jasyn.” Pax nibbled on her lip, her fingers gripping Rhys’s hand so tightly her knuckles were white.
Alexei nodded. “Yes, Pax. And Uncle Jasyn.” He helped Hannah back to the couch but didn’t let go of her hand. “You have to follow Elizabeth. She will need you.”
Hannah’s brow furrowed. She’d never met such a grown up child before. “You’re blocking your parents? Alexei, I know how close you are with Nicolette. She talked about you all the time. But don’t worry. Your mom and dad are working hard to find a way to help her.”
He made a sound of frustration. “No one listens to me. You know what that’s like. They don’t see you either. But they can’t help. Elizabeth is going. She’ll find them. You have to follow her.”
Rhys chimed in, obviously worried. “Alexei said we can save Uncle Jasyn. Then Nicolette will wake up and everyone will stop being scared all the time.”
Pax lifted her chin. “I’m not scared.”
Hannah smiled at the young girl. “You’re braver than I am then.”
“She has to wake up if we’re going to figure out the secret.”
Hannah’s gaze jerked back to Alexei’s face, his startling eyes so like his mother’s. “The secret?”
“The one they were close to when they were taken. And Elizabeth won’t be able to handle it alone.”
Tears gathered in Hannah’s eyes, and she squeezed Alexei’s hand affectionately. “I’m the wrong adult to talk to, kiddo. You could probably help Liz far more than I ever could. Unfortunately you have inches and decades yet before anyone will take you seriously. Heck, I’ve been around a lot longer, and I still haven’t solved that dilemma. You said it yourself. No one sees me. I’m not the one for the job.”
Alexei smiled, and Hannah felt a wave of power that stunned her. She had a sudden premonition of this boy as a man, with as much power as his mother, maybe more, and the strength to use it as the Sariel heir. “You are the perfect one, Miss Hannah, because you understand and because you belong to Jasyn and Nicolette. They are both a part of you, and now, we will be too.” Alexei Sariel pulled a small, boy’s blade out of his jeans pocket, slicing the fleshy pad of Hannah’s hand.
“Ouch! Damn it, Alexei, what did you do that for?” Hannah tried to pull her hand away but Pax and Rhys added their strength to Alexei’s. Her eyes widened as he sliced open a wound on each of their hands. The smell of their blood was intoxicating. Power. Sheer, untapped but unmistakable power.
“Our fangs are not developed enough, but this should help.” Three small hands slid into hers, their blood gathering in her palm, mingling with her own. Hannah pulled her lips down over her own extended incisors, determined not to frighten the children.
Alexei’s smile widened. “Now we can help. Not as much as Mum and Aunt Sylvain. But…it should be enough.”
They took their hands away and licked their palms closed, telling Hannah with their big, hopeful eyes to do the same. She lifted her blood-covered hand to her mouth, eyes closing as she drank in the sweet, innocent taste. Strange zaps of energy pinged through her body, images vague and out of focus…and not her own, shimmered in her mind.
The children pulled her from the couch impatiently. “Go. She’s made her decision.”
Hannah understood. Liz was planning on leaving without letting anyone else know. Planning on searching for Jasyn and the Shadow Wolves herself. She looked down at Alexei and ran her fingers through his silky locks. “You know you’re going to be grounded for a hundred years right?”
He wrapped his arms around her in a tight, emotional hug that made Hannah realize that, even with his intelligence and power, he was just a little boy. “It will be worth it.”
“Yes. It will.” If she could save Jasyn, it would be worth anything.
Even her life.
Three days and thousands of feet of elevation and nothing. The scent of Shadow all over this mountain, mingled with Jasyn’s blood told Liz she was in the right place. Montana. What in the name of the Mother were Les Loups De L’Ombre, do
ing in America? But she couldn’t deny what her senses were telling her. And she wasn’t sure how much longer she could handle the quiet. Where were they? A dozen times she could have sworn she was being watched. Why didn’t they attack her already and get it over with? She wanted to kick something’s ass, was that too much to ask?
Liz stilled to watch a rabbit scuttle out from its hiding place, and her stomach growled. Not exactly the Were feast she’d been hoping for but she was cold and hungry, and it would have to do. She dropped her knapsack and shifted into her totem form, a black spotted jaguar, and let the animal spirit within her take the lead.
It always baffled her when others had a problem adapting to the transformation and all of its special perks. Regina for example. She’d taken the young Gypsy away from an incestuous brother, an abusive, narrow-minded father and a life of servitude. Yet when she realized what she was, the girl had chafed against it, mourned for a sun that did nothing but burn your fragile, human skin as you toiled beneath it. Mornings that you woke dreading the pain of the day that was to come. The pain of being a female in a world of men.
She’d come into Malcolm’s world with her eyes wide open. He’d never lied to her, and, unlike every other man in her life, he was kind. She’d fallen in love with that kindness. And she’d known what to expect, what she would become, in order to be with him. Although she wasn’t his true blood mate, and there were some abilities and connections she’d never share with him, she had no regrets. She’d had this. Her favorite part of what she was. Being freed from the limits of her human body and releasing the wildness lurking within. It wasn’t the same, from what she’d been told, as a Were’s shift. Vampires had more control. It was less beast, more magic.
She stumbled as her fur was ruffled by a cat racing past her. Strange. She hadn’t sensed him coming. He was fast. Too fast. A blur of ebony fur and muscle, passing her and chasing the small, slippery prey away. Damn it. That was supposed to be her dinner. He turned to face her, feline lips lifting to bare his sharp, white teeth. Was he smiling?
He was a beautiful creature. The perfect predator—swift, elegant and deadly. But he was no ordinary feline. Her heightened sense of smell told her he was no more jaguar than she was.
It was strange, his scent. Familiar and yet, like nothing she’d ever experienced. In moments her heart was racing, her body quivering. His demeanor had changed along with hers, his head ducking low, gaze never leaving hers. Was he a rogue Trueblood? An outcast Unborn? She wasn’t sure.
Her senses were scrambled by his arrival. It was anger and adrenaline, not elation, she was feeling. Elation made no sense. Anger at being snuck up on, at allowing someone to get the better of her, was far more acceptable.
Still she had to admit, something about him called to her, grabbed her, demanded she submit. And if there was one thing Liz didn’t do, it was submit. She took a slow step back on the rough pads of her animal’s feet. He stepped forward, keeping the same amount of distance between them.
Her body tensed in instinctive reaction to his low growl. Arousal, primitive and nearly debilitating, washed over her. An unwelcome and unexpected surprise. She was here for business, not pleasure. She would tell him that if he would shift into his other form and introduce himself, like any other civilized vampire would. The fact that he hadn’t made him suspect. Was he connected to the Shadow Wolves behind Jasyn’s abduction?
His growl grew louder as though he’d heard her accusation. Her hackles rose and a fine tremor spread through her limbs. The spirit of the wild animal inside her warred with her own common sense. The instinct to give chase, to run with the knowledge that he would have to chase her, dueled with her desire to fight. She’d been in tighter situations. Fought off Shadow Wolves and Truebloods alike without batting an eye. Was she going to put her tail between her legs just because someone’s smell got her all hot and bothered?
She ran.
Liz heard the cat’s excited grunts as he chased her, purposefully staying a few paces behind. He was acting as though it was a game. A mating game. From the way her body was behaving, it seemed inclined to agree.
No. This was crazy. He was vampire, shifted like her. But not like her. Fog descended around her, confusing her. It was him, his power. Like Lux, he controlled the elements with ease. Like Malcolm. He had to be a Trueblood. Not a mark in his favor, as far as she was concerned. The idea of a roll in the grass with the intriguing stranger was pushed out of her mind. She didn’t want him that badly.
You do. You never wanted anyone this much, my love. Not even me.
Of course I wanted you.
Not like this.
No. Not like this. With Malcolm, after that first attraction to his beautiful face, it was about love and sweetness and—she felt guilty admitting it—gratitude. With all the others through the years it was an itch. A restlessness.
This was desperation. This was need. From his scent alone. She ran harder, through the fog, until her muscles began to shake with exertion. He was running her to ground. A predator focused on his prey. On her.
She turned on him and snarled a warning. No more running. The bastard needed to be taught a lesson. No one made her lose control. She slashed at him with her claws, but he didn’t back away, allowing her to cut into his flesh.
Blood. Great Mother, his blood smelled like sin. Like wine and chocolate and hot, sweaty, endless sex. She wanted to taste it, to drink it down, to roll in it. What the hell was going on? Who was he?
He took advantage of her distraction, covering her body with his own. She tried to roll out of his hold, but he was too strong. He bit through the black fur and flesh of her neck with his fangs. Not a request, not a wooing, this was a primal domination, instinctual. He was actually delivering a lover’s bite. In the form of his totem animal.
“Not this way.” She sent him the thought with as much strength as she could, considering her heightened state of lust. He must have heard her, because he started transforming behind her. She did the same, locked in his passionate embrace, pierced by his fangs.
The strong, bare body above hers kept her pinned to the cold night ground. Rocks dug into the tops of her thighs, but she hardly noticed the sting. She couldn’t roll over, couldn’t see him. Oh, but she could feel him. He was massive, heated, hard muscle. His cock, long and thick, was pressed between the cheeks of her ass, the sensation making her shudder.
The rough hand that wasn’t braced on the ground was everywhere—touching her hips, her waist, the side of her breast. He growled against her neck, hips pumping against her and she knew he was as aroused as she was. She told herself it was insane, and it was, but she wanted to please him. This man who shared her animal totem, this man whose face she hadn’t seen, who could, in fact have something to do with Jasyn’s disappearance, and Nicolette’s comatose state.
Liz struggled against her own desire, trying once more to buck his immovable hold. “Not that I’m not enjoying this but—ah, this isn’t why I’m here.”
He ignored her words, his hips heavy against hers and his hand gripping her hair. He tugged, arching her neck as he continued to feed. His other arm came around her, drying streaks of his own blood from her scratch coating the forearm he pressed against her lips. More a demand than an offering. He wanted her bite.
She could feel the bloodlust coming over her. Her eyes dilated, nostrils flaring at being this close to the irresistible aroma of his blood. It was a temptation she could not deny, no matter how much she wanted to. She bit into his flesh, moaning as his rich blood poured down her throat.
Her body shook against the hard ground as his essence infused every cell in her body, sending her flying into a shocking climax. She sensed his mind entering hers, experiencing her orgasm with her, reveling in it.
“Feel like mine. Taste like mine.”
Yes. And he felt like hers. She couldn’t get enough. When he lifted her hips, his cock discovering the slick wetness between her thighs, she arched against him. Why wasn’t she fighting? S
truggling for control? She took what she wanted from life, from men. She wasn’t some fragile piece to be bent over and taken. Yet here she was, begging for it.
“Yes. Beg. Beg for it.”
“You beg. Oh Goddess. Please beg.”
His first thrust filled her to her core, her body stretching, struggling to accept him, despite her arousal. “Please.” His voice was rough with pleasure in her head. He pulled back, the drag of his cock through her clinging sex making him groan. “Please.” His pleas belied the command of his actions as he powered into her again. So deep that the pleasure mingled with pain. So deep she thought she might die if he left her body.
His bruising grip on her hip tightened to hold her steady as he took her. Her hands clawed at his forearm, tears escaping down her cheeks at the overwhelming sensations of his claiming. No gentleness, just a fierce carnality. Dirty and rough and so intense that she lifted her mouth from his addictive blood to cry out into the quiet night.
Her second orgasm only seemed to spur him on. He lifted himself to a sitting position, carrying her with him until she was on his lap. The new angle gave him the freedom to cup her breasts, to slide his hand down the curve of her belly and further, between the lips of her pussy to rub her clit. His touch burned her skin. Marking her as surely as his bite.
He lifted his mouth, tongue laving her neck to heal the flesh he’d just ravaged. “Ride me.” His voice was low and raspy, hesitant as though he wasn’t used to speaking out loud. He nuzzled her ear, and she shivered.
She elbowed him lightly in the ribs, smiling in spite of herself when his breath pushed out in a surprised grunt. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
Midnight Falls: Children of the Goddess, Book 4 Page 3
