by Billi Jean
“If she’s given time to think, she’s going to run for it. Even this”—Kincaid gestured to the compound—“won’t keep her long.”
“We can care for her here,” Beauty argued. “She’d be safe.”
“Is that true? Is that what Trouble has to say? I heard she thinks differently. They all do,” Kincaid added. “She’s being accused of a lot of shit. Having her here is just going to get everyone’s dander up.”
The human was good. He’d been silently hanging around, listening to them and making his own plans.
Hunter was in trouble. Sorcha had even come in, with a disgruntled Alex, to see what they could do to calm the situation. Trouble was halting most of the flood of demands for Hunter’s head by just being Trouble—tougher than nails and not a woman you crossed easily.
But the covens had laws—ancient laws about making pacts with demons, let alone Satan himself. It amazed him that they were louder than Alrick, when the head of the Scottish Lykae had the most to complain about. Hunter had stood by and watched his brother being tortured by a demon after all. But Balrick hadn’t ended up being as innocent in all the shit they’d shifted through as everyone had thought. Alrick was a tough guy, but he accepted that and had publicly forgiven Hunter of all crimes. That had been a crucial win for them, but Torque had heard it had earned Alrick no points within his own splintering pack.
“What are you suggesting?” Torque asked, intrigued. Now that Hunter was back, they could only keep her safe for so long. If she was gone…
“This compound.” Kincaid tapped the location marked in red. “This one. You all didn’t get to finish searching it when everything went nuts. Let me,” Kincaid offered. “With Hunter. If there’s something there, we’ll find it.”
Torque caressed Beauty’s back when he sensed through their bond she still wasn’t happy.
“Of course I’m not happy. He’s human, without any special skills, and wants to endanger Hunter.”
“We won’t let her get hurt. Trouble wants to send her to Scotland, with Sorcha, but you know Hunter won’t want to do that, sweet.”
“She saved your life—and mine.”
“Yes, and this man’s and many others. Listen to his idea, that’s all, then we decide.”
“Why should we allow you to do this?” Beauty asked. “You have no special skills. You’re human, and you might be a liability to Hunter if something goes wrong.”
“Ouch,” Kincaid said and grimaced. “Glad I have a higher opinion of myself than you do, woman.” He rubbed his cheek, though, and appeared to think about what he had to say in response. Beauty had made good—if harsh—points. Torque let the human sweat it out.
“Well, the place wasn’t completely searched. Trouble thinks there might be answers there, answers to the changelings.” He sat back and crossed his arms. “You know, we want to find our men. If there is a chance at information that could help us, I am ordered to follow it. I might not be immortal, but I am lead on that, and I say we start there.” He gestured to the map. “If there’s nothing there, we go to the other one,” he added, glancing at the other red dot on the map, the one in Russia, close to Siberia.
The big blond was tough. Torque would give him that. He almost reminded Torque of a Spartan. But Kincaid wasn’t immortal. He was suggesting going on a mission that might bring him face-to-face with some of the meanest, dirtiest Death Stalkers. The changelings were cropping up more and more. Worse, they seemed to be working with the Death Stalkers, not running from them once they’d been turned. He’d hoped they were changed by the Death Stalkers when they wouldn’t take the vow, but what if that wasn’t true? What if the Death Stalkers were changing immortal and mortal alike simply to get their numbers up? All the information they’d gained from Balrick pointed at him being more in charge than anything else. Had he made his own pact with the demons? Maybe, at this point. Anything was possible.
“Do you think those rumors are true?” Beauty asked him. “That the lab might have answers?”
Torque shifted his gaze from Kincaid to Beauty’s worried face. “I don’t know, and that worries me. We said we’d give the humans time to work with us on finding their men. This would be one way.”
Beauty met his eyes steadily, but he could sense her unease grow through their bond. “I know, but can we trust them?”
“Can we trust Hunter?”
She smiled softly, that way she did only for him, and touched his jaw with her delicate fingers. “I believe so.”
“She’s young, so bloody young. Maybe the human will keep her on her toes.”
“Do you think he likes her, likes her?”
“Woman! No matchmaking.”
“Sorry, but he might be trying to get her alone…just like Grayson with Aubrey…”
Torque laughed and kissed her on the cheek before he focused back on the human. Kincaid hadn’t moved, but he gave them an arrogant stare for making him wait while they mind-spoke about him.
“So?” Kincaid prompted, overconfident as ever. That attitude might just serve him well with what he was going against. Jaxon reported he’d been trigger-happy, but when push came to shove, Kincaid had shown great bravery and courage against one badass named Gerald.
“So,” Beauty snapped, still not easy with Kincaid. “We aren’t sure,” she said primly, but he could tell she was half convinced this was the answer they all sought. It would keep Hunter busy, and if they did find something…it might help to clear her name.
“If you are suggesting we let you take Hunter to find the cure to the changelings, discover where your men are and prove to everyone that she can be trusted, then you have our permission,” Torque said, hearing his mate’s grumble in his head. “If, on the other hand, you are trying to get into Hunter’s pants, my wife and I aren’t as on board,” he tacked on, to keep Beauty happy.
Kincaid grinned. “What if I want both options?” The guy had to be braver than some of the immortal men Torque knew, because Beauty was staring daggers at him. “Not a good idea?” he asked, winking. “Trust me. I can manage. She’ll be right as rain by the time I’m done with her.”
“Just as long as that means you plan on Torque’s first scenario,” Beauty reminded him.
Laughing, Kincaid stood and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “How about we move her back to her house? She wakes. I get her up north and we go from there?”
“I don’t trust him.”
“Beauty, you don’t trust any man who comes on to your friends.”
Beauty jabbed him in the ribs again, then kissed his jaw, considering his opinion before she responded with her own. “I like Agni.”
He kissed her neck, loving her so much sometimes it was painful. “Now.” The reminder had her crossing her arms, but he could tell he was getting to her.
“Fine, but if he breaks Hunter’s heart—”
“You can skin him and put him in the study above the hearth.”
“Wow, you thought that through…”
“Well?” Kincaid settled his thumbs in his jeans pockets. “Is that a yes? Or do you two need some more time to talk about me?”
“That’s a do it right, or I have permission to skin you and put you down in front of the mantel,” Beauty said. “And”—she held up a hand when Kincaid opened his mouth—“we have to check with Trouble. She’s the head of Hunter’s coven.”
“Right.” Kincaid grinned as if it were a done deal.
“Don’t get too excited. You’ll be checking in. Often. This is much bigger than fixing Hunter. Those compounds are dangerous. Even blown up, it is still partially intact. The other,” Torque murmured, worried more than he liked, “is dangerous. We might send in more people to aid you, but either way, you are careful. Don’t take chances we don’t have,” Torque grumbled.
“Chances aren’t something I take.”
Torque didn’t agree with that, but let it go. “Trouble is… Well, she just might go for this, actually, only because everyone under the sun seems to want a piece of
Hunter.”
“Too bad for them,” Kincaid said. “Let me know soon. Before she wakes is better.”
With that, the human saluted them both and left, making Torque wonder if he wasn’t distantly related to the Spartans after all and they just didn’t realize it yet. As soon as the door clicked closed behind him, Beauty straddled him with a hunger in her eyes he knew very well.
“He’s just cocky. Like you,” Beauty whispered, and added a bit of heat to her comment. Through their bond he could sense the pride she felt at how he’d handled Kincaid. The thought made him grin.
“I did well, huh?”
“Oh, baby, you always do,” she said, giving him one hell of a sexy smile.
All thoughts of worrying over Kincaid, Hunter and even Trouble took a back seat.
“Is that right? Let’s see about getting some of that spice, sweetheart.”
“Wasn’t it sugar?”
“I think spice suits you better,” he murmured, already tipping her head to reach her slender throat with his tongue. “But I want something sweet all right.” He headed down, licking a path as he unbuttoned her blouse and pushed her miniskirt up her thighs.
“Oh yes, I agree.”
Eager as him, she hooked her legs around his waist. Kincaid, the problems of Hunter, even the Immortal Council chamber, disappeared as their passion burst into flame.
Chapter Three
Kincaid was ready to climb the walls. He’d gotten permission to proceed with Hunter. He had to bunk with Aubrey because Trouble didn’t want Hunter waking with anyone in her home but him.
But it wasn’t Aubrey who was driving him nuts. She had the spare bedroom down the hall from him and the witch was polite, kept to herself and unlike most people, didn’t irritate him. She actually made him laugh a few times at her pronunciation lessons, and instead of being offended when he did hear her attempting at making a sharp constant ending ‘t’, she shared a laugh with him.
For some reason she was intent on ridding herself of her accent. Something that intrigued him to no end, but he held off from questioning her. He had other things to think about and worry over.
Like Hunter not waking.
“If she does no’,” Aubrey said from the doorway to the kitchen. She paused, took a deep breath and started again, “If she does not awaken today, I will wake her.”
Rick stopped stirring the pasta sauce he was making and turned it off before he faced her, arms crossed.
She wasn’t impressed. Like all the other immortal women he’d met, she simply wasn’t swayed by swagger. Aubrey even less so, she just didn’t even seem to notice that he flexed his muscles. She definitely didn’t get he wasn’t on board with the idea of waking Hunter.
She fidgeted with the cup of tea as she walked in and paced to the table and back to the door. “It’s not her wounds that have kept her silent this long,” she said. “It’s something else, something more dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Explain,” he said, pulling out a kitchen chair to straddle it and sat, instead of rushing in to check on Hunter. He hung his arms over the back of it and waited for Aubrey to walk back over to him. He’d already checked on Hunter a dozen times today.
“I dinnae ken,” she murmured, so worried she didn’t do the autocorrect. “I need to think on it.”
“All right, but why wake her until you’ve thought on it?”
“Waking her will give me the answers I need, Kincaid,” she said, as if he’d suggested otherwise.
He ignored how her mind seemed to work in circles and focused on steering her around to something he could understand. “Answers to what?”
She canted her head and examined him. She did that often. Mostly when he said something about the television shows she chose to watch—nature or history documentaries, or something equally intellectual but unexciting.
“The injury to her face. I believe what was done to her is important. If she wakes, I will ask her who gave her such a wound.”
Scar, really. All of her wounds, the feet, hands and face, had dimmed to pale, silver scar tissue instead of bleeding or blistering sores. But they’d not magically disappeared—no matter how hard the healers had tried. He’d heard from Grayson that Sorcha had come in specifically to attempt a full healing, but had not been able to erase the scars.
In his opinion, Hunter was lucky to be alive, scarred or not. One week after being in hell and tortured horribly, she was still sleeping, but he’d been assured she was no longer in pain.
Some wounds took more time to heal and for him, much longer, so immortality, he guessed, had its bonuses.
“She is out of pain, though, right?” he asked, suddenly not sure on that, no matter how many other immortals assured him she was.
Hunter still tossed and turned. She’d been at the clinic at the new command central for three days. He’d not been allowed to see her, but he guessed her uneasy sleep was the same there. Her fever hadn’t lessened in all this time, something that would have killed her if she’d been human and proved to him more than the conversation about her that she wasn’t human any longer.
That bothered him, which also bothered him, because he shouldn’t care if she flew with the immortal crowd and was light years away from a possible date with a mere mortal. He didn’t get into one woman for long. He didn’t do relationships—period. But he couldn’t shake how interested he was in this one. Beauty’s warning aside, there was something about Hunter that had pulled him from the first time he’d spotted her on the team’s tapes.
“Nay, she is still in pain,” Aubrey said quietly, startling him. “I fear—” She paused again, then rushed forward before he could demand to know why everyone else said she was fine. “I fear she always will be. I fear this is what her punishment is—this horrible scar and the pain. But I don’t believe your devil put it on her. I think,” she took a breath and let it out, sitting down across from him. “I think Arawn put that mark on her.”
“Who?”
“Arawn, he is our god of the afterlife—of the dead, you would say—but no’ like your faith. He is the ruler of Annwn, our land of the dead.”
Okay. This is new. “Who are you including with that pronoun?”
She frowned.
“Our land of the dead?”
“Ah, many Celts have a belief that Arawn, some call him by other names, rules a land that all souls venture to after death. Some say he is a fair man, valuing friendship and loyalty,” she said.
“But, others?”
“Well.” She winced. “Aye, some say he is a jealous, cruel man when crossed. Hunter made an oath, or promise, to this Lucifer,” she said as if that was crazy. He agreed, so he waited. “Arawn might have been a wee bit upset by that,” she finally added.
Wee bit, huh? “Upset enough to do that to her.” He gestured to Hunter’s room, where she slept.
“Nay, he would no’ have done all of that,” she murmured, but winced again. “But her face, aye, he might have done that to her. If so, she should have a chance at breaking the curse. Those are the answers I seek,” she confided in a whisper. “The questions I think she can answer, and if no’”—she bit her lip and her worried frown grew—“then I must seek the answers elsewhere, for I fear such a guise would come with a time limit.”
A time limit? Now more confused than before, he focused on what he could understand.
“So, some Celtic god kicked Lucifer’s butt? Does he trump the devil?”
“Your fallen angel was no’ around forever—no’ before our gods.” She said that as if he’d insulted her. “He would no’ want to anger Arawn, no matter his evil power. Arawn is a fierce enemy and holds all Celts as his. He does no’ rely on fear or evil. He is no’ evil at all, but—” She paused, and after making him wait a long while, she added, “He can be unmerciful at times.”
“Why are you whispering?” he asked, tipping his chair forward to lean closer to her. “It’s not like he’s here, is it?”
Aubrey blinked and waved her hand
dismissively. “Nay, he will no’ come into the mortal world. But, such topics draw attention,” she said. “Attention we dinnae want.”
“Ah, I see,” he said, when he really didn’t at all. The thing about Aubrey was he could easily forget the black-haired beauty was from ancient Scotland with her clothes and all, but then she’d sideswipe him with knowledge or beliefs, like now.
She scanned the kitchen, as if some kind of Scottish boogey man might jump out of the cupboards at any moment.
“You dinnae see,” she mocked, missing his accent by a couple of NFL football fields. “But if you stay with us, you will. Why are you here? You’re human. Why are any of you and yours involved in this?”
“This? Meaning the fucked up mess our men—humans—are in now that my team is running around on all fours?”
She wrinkled her nose at him and sniffed at his language. He refused to say he was sorry, because reality check, that was him being nice. Every other word wasn’t a swear word, after all.
“So you will go with Hunter when she wakes, to find your men?”
“That is the plan,” he reminded her. Save them, find a cure, get Hunter straight with everyone. Maybe more, but that wasn’t entirely up to him like the other things on his to-do list.
A sound in the house had him silently shoving out of his chair and motioning to her to be quiet when she stood as well. A second later he heard more movement, then a crash, like glass breaking. A mirror, he guessed, already out of the kitchen on his way to Hunter’s bedroom.
He froze at the entrance and Aubrey barreled right into him with an oath.
Hunter spun, crouched low with her hands up, the blue electricity he’d seen her use before powered in her palms. Only now, from the center of each hand there was a darker blue point—where they’d nailed her to a cross.
“Hunter,” Aubrey murmured, coming out from behind him.
He held his hands palm out, hoping to ease Hunter. The move seemed to draw her attention. Half her face was melted silvery scar tissue, pulling tightly as she concentrated on him. Her right eye was blue, but the left was milky white. His chest tightened at the realization there was more damage than he’d first believed, but also at the aggression coming off her. Broken bits of glass littered the room, but where she stood, none had touched her.
