by Billi Jean
Larisa tossed her pretty hair over her shoulder. Did the woman think she’d be swayed by that? She wasn’t a guy.
“Hunter, are you well?” Demetry asked.
“I’m shot. So yeah, I’m wonderful.” She topped that with as much sarcasm as she could muster. If she was immortal, why did it hurt so much? “The better question is, what are you two doing and how did this happen?”
“We were surprised,” Demetry said as if that explained it all.
“And her?” she asked, pointing to the she-wolf with her free hand.
“I was locked up too.” Larisa pouted.
Demetry seemed to buy that, or else he wasn’t getting involved out here. He stood with his arms still bound, but he’d at least moved to shove Kincaid out of the way when their reunion went to the wild side.
“They captured both of us,” Larisa began.
“Don’t lie,” Hunter snapped, irritated by Larisa. “It’s rude to lie to a witch, first of all, and second, that stuff doesn’t work on women, Larisa. I’ve got the same parts, girlfriend.”
“But you are damaged goods, and I am not.” Larisa lifted a lip.
Whoa. Okay. “Give me a reason not to fry you.” Hunter stared her down until the other woman shrugged and focused on the distant mountains.
“Hunter,” Demetry began, clearly ready to defend the woman.
“Why would you get involved? Why defend her? For crying out loud, Demetry, you’re still handcuffed! If that’s not a reason to wake up to how evil she is—”
“She is my mate.” Demetry startled her enough to make her shift her focus from big bad wolf-woman to him. He was serious.
“You have to be joking.” She swallowed after, but it was too late to take back the comment. Dammit, Kincaid is rubbing off on me.
“She is my mate.” Demetry snapped his teeth on the word ‘mate’.
So, the drop-dead gorgeous Demetry was really mated to Larisa, or just as insane as the she-devil. Hunter didn’t see it, but why would he lie?
“Right,” she muttered, using Kincaid’s favorite comeback. That sucked for Demetry.
“I’ll deal with her when I am free,” Demetry said in such a firm tone even Larisa shot him a glance. She tossed her hair again but didn’t deny it, or him. “But until then, you will not harm her.”
“You, don’t tell me what to do.” She pointed a finger at him, then to Larisa. “And you, stop moving or I will fry you again, and this time you won’t get up.”
“Hunter—”
“Zip it, Demetry. Look,” she exploded. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I had a bit of a falling out with some people.” She tipped her hat back so he got the full view. To his credit, Demetry only narrowed his eyes and frowned harder. “I’m out here looking for this man’s”—she nudged her sleeping beauty with a hand on his shoulder—“friends and your cousin, I believe? Viktor,” she said, so he’d get a clue. “Now, tell me why you can’t get those off, and who the others are, while I try to wake up my partner.”
“I do not know why I cannot get these off.” Demetry shook his hands. “If I did, I would have had them off by now. I can’t even move my feet, Hunter. Why else do you think I stood here, unable to stop you from getting harmed?”
She stiffened. When a Lykae sounded that pissed off, she didn’t like being on the receiving end.
“She got hers off,” Hunter reminded him, somewhat lamely.
“Hers were not spelled. Mine are,” Demetry clarified.
She glanced at Larisa, who was looking bored and beautiful.
“Fill me in. What happened? You two left, and?” Hunter prompted.
Larisa waved at Demetry as if she were too busy to bother. Bitch. Seriously?
Demetry took a deep breath and seemed to fight for calm. “We were heading back to our home. These men,” he said, “came out of the blue. They took Larisa first, and before I could shift, they used something to knock me out.”
“A rifle butt?” she guessed, lifting Kincaid’s head when shaking his shoulder gently didn’t wake him up. She put her gloves under his head and settled him again. Worried now, she brushed at the blood on his forehead from the injury. “Kincaid,” she murmured close to his ear.
“No, they used magic,” Demetry said.
Larisa whispered something to him in Russian then they had a mini battle of words. So, Larisa doesn’t want us knowing these are mages? Now that she had room to breathe, she could feel magic on the air, but Larisa didn’t seem to get that she would or else she was stopping Demetry from saying more. Someone other than her had magic, and had used it recently. She scanned the downed men, unable to pinpoint which one, or if all of them had thrown a spell.
“Kincaid? Hey, you gonna sleep all day?” She checked her watch as she spoke. He’d been out for a few minutes. That couldn’t be good. She scooped up some snow, half listening to the Russian argument, and soothed Kincaid’s head.
“And what’s with the porn-star dress?” she asked, not expecting an answer, but enjoying how the battle got hotter at her words. If she were Larisa, she’d be damn worried she’d get more than she bargained for playing with a man like Demetry.
Suddenly Kincaid groaned and blinked open his blue eyes.
Relief flooded her, then frustration.
I shouldn’t be so relieved the big lug is okay. Not my problem what happens to him. Not my problem.
“Nice nap?” she whispered, just because he needed to be razzed.
If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was embarrassed. He blustered pretty well, but she could tell it cost him to meet her eyes. She smiled then stopped, sure her face did all kinds of freaky things when she did. He scared the death out of her—almost—by grabbing her arms and sitting up with a truly terrible grimace.
“Jesus, woman, did you get shot?”
“Uh, yeah, and hello? The more important thing is I need some help figuring out what to do with Tweedledee and Tweedledum. While you napped, I found out they were taken by these guys. Mages, I’m guessing.”
“That’s not the issue, woman!” He shook her off then quickly unzipped her jacket, tugging it to the side immediately after, to wince at the blood he revealed. “I say what’s important. Getting shot,” he snarled, “is important.”
It hurt, but she tried not to show how bad when he touched the area. It hurt really bad, which freaked her out. She was getting light-headed, maybe from loss of blood or from the way he was really getting worked up.
“It went straight through, or a graze?” he asked, pulling up her T-shirt to reveal the bloody gash on her side. “Shit, that’s a lot of blood.”
“I’m fine.” Embarrassment flushed her cheeks at the attention. She tried to take her shirt back, but he muttered for her to stay still and pushed her hands away.
“It needs wrapped,” he said. “Are you sure you’re immortal?” he asked quietly, meeting her eyes.
“Well, yeah,” she responded automatically, then frowned at her side. “It hurts, but I’ve never been shot before. But then again, I also don’t feel immortal,” she whispered back. “So it’s a toss-up if I am or not and—”
“Damn crazy woman. Don’t ever shove me and take a bullet—”
“Let up. It’s not like it’s going to happen again, now is it? We have more pressing matters,” she said, winning her shirt back. “We have to decide what to do now.”
Kincaid fell onto the snow with a groan. Drawing his feet up so his knees were bent, he rubbed both hands over his head. She didn’t have the heart to tell him he’d just smeared her blood all over one side of his jaw and more on his forehead. His goose egg had a slice on it, but she thought he’d rubbed her mess all over the area, not his.
“Crazy. Wake me when you decide, then,” he grumbled. “Your side needs bound. You’re insane, and my head hurts too much to argue.”
Behind her she heard Larisa laugh—a sickeningly sweet sound. “See? A human is no help. I believe we should leave them all here and go on.”
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nbsp; Kincaid lifted one hand from his face and stared at Larisa before he closed both eyes again.
“Hell, you’ve got to be kidding me. We can’t leave anyone behind.” He sat back up. Slinging his hands on his knees, he scanned everyone, then stared at her for a second before he took off his jacket with a grumbled something about women. He wore a firearm at his hip, and she knew he had more in a bag up at the vehicle. Maybe more on him. He tore the lining out of the jacket, and scowling, he ripped that into a long strip. “Here, lift your shirt a bit.” Clearly he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
She did as ordered and shivered at the feel of his fingers on her bare skin. He was appropriate—for once. He even seemed upset.
“All right, hold your breath,” he instructed and took a handful of the snow, and before she could stop him, pressed it to her side.
She bit her lip, not about to cry in front of Larisa. The snow stung, but the pressure he put on the area hurt as if wildfire had sprung up there. He held it in place, grimacing at her and acting so concerned she couldn’t complain when he scooped up another handful when the first melted down the side of her pants.
“She needs that site cleaned as well,” Demetry said.
“It’s all we have for now,” Kincaid replied with some bite to the words. “Just hold tight,” he murmured much more nicely to her.
“Okay,” she managed. “You have blood on your, uh, well, face.” She reached up and touched his chin. Instead of a thank you, she got a narrowed-eyed glare. He sniffed and shook his head, but dragged his forearm across his brow and down his face. It made it worse, but she kept that to herself and dropped her hand
“Right,” he muttered. The snow had all melted anyway, and after the freezing cold, his palm was hot against her ribs. “I gotta tie this tight, so hang in there.”
She swallowed, not liking the sound of that.
Kincaid brought the bandages he’d made up and began wrapping her side over and over and over, then with a wince, he jerked it tight—hurting her badly enough she bit her lip to stop from being a sissy in front of Larisa. Kincaid murmured ‘sorry’, then tied his knot off.
“Gotta be tight, or it does nothing. It’ll do for now. We clean it when we get the first chance, but I want hot water for that.”
She adjusted her shirt, not sure if she wanted to speak for fear of squeaking.
He gave her a frustrated snort, but she hoped he was impressed with her or something crazy like that.
“We’ll talk about this later, okay?” he muttered, then said louder, “I say we free the werewolf and they can go their own way.”
“That Lykae,” she stressed, “saved your butt, but that’s cool with me. Both can go their merry ways as long as we get these guys.”
“Right.” He stood, helping her up when he did. He walked over to the first mage and crouched there to examine the guy. “So he wasn’t, you know, walking on all fours by chance, was he?”
Demetry didn’t say anything, but the way he avoided glancing at Larisa made her uneasy. Kincaid caught on and stood, giving both Lykae his attention, then Hunter.
“Is that an answer?” he asked.
“It seemed like one to me,” she offered.
“I don’t understand your question,” Demetry said. “They are not Lykae.” He appeared on the up-and-up with the confusion. The way Larisa held herself just wasn’t okay. There was something more going on here.
“I guessed that, but what we want to know is, are they always like this or do they change, to huge monsters with red eyes?” Hunter asked, being as specific as she could.
Demetry frowned harder and Larisa merely watched her like some kind of snake examining roadkill.
“You need those chains removed, right?” Hunter asked, going at it from a different angle. “I suggest you spill your guts now, or—”
“They were always like this,” Larisa said, waving to the men.
Kincaid snorted. By his harsh expression, she guessed he didn’t believe Larisa either. Hunter had to wonder though. Why lie? Why hide what these men were? Soon enough they’d know. Everyone talked sooner or later.
“I have trouble believing that.” Kincaid shook his head. “But it doesn’t matter, eh? We have them, soon enough they’ll talk.”
It was eerie how close he was to thinking the same way she was.
Demetry cleared his throat. “I am Demetry, and you are?”
“Oh, yeah, this is Kincaid. He’s part of the human team the Immortal Council want us to work with because”—she frowned over that—“well, to keep them out of Trouble’s hair.”
Demetry raised his eyebrows. “Truly?” he asked, and held out his cuffed hands.
He and Kincaid shook and Demetry slapped him on the back. “You have a big set, eh? I’ve met this witch, Trouble. She is, how do you English say it? Ah, yes, a handful.”
“Okay,” she whispered. Male bonding.
“She’s got a loud bark, small bite,” Kincaid said, seeming to get his head back on, or maybe he’d lost it. “It’s American, by the way, not English.”
Demetry gave her a dip of his head like a bow.
“Believe me, she has a bigger bite,” Hunter warned him. “Now that you men have had your meet and greet down, what now?”
Demetry grinned at Kincaid, who chuckled. “She is always so ready, no? Even now, she is strong, eh?”
Before Kincaid could comment on that, Larisa walked up, whining to Demetry in Russian.
Kincaid scanned Hunter’s face for some reason. “You good?”
“Sure, just a flesh wound. Nothing serious,” she said, even though it felt serious. It was her first time being shot, which was amazing, considering the battles she’d been in. But it hurt. For some reason, now that the bandage was on, she felt a bit better, but it throbbed. Kincaid handed her a frosty Gatorade.
“Drink that. You lost a lot of blood. You need it,” he said.
Hunter was just about to say thank you when Larisa’s shrill voice cut her off. After a fit of Russian, she flounced away—only a few feet, but with enough soap opera acting to make Hunter have to hide a laugh. Kincaid didn’t bother.
“So, what’s that all about?”
“We will have to take the mages,” Demetry declared.
“We were never not going to, but why the sudden about-face?” She felt more uneasy than before.
“Because they know how to put to rights the changelings,” Larisa offered.
Kincaid had survived several wars. He’d even lived through some messed up situations in Afghanistan when he’d thought for certain his number was getting called. None of his life’s experiences prepared him for Hunter.
She was a mystery.
She’d saved his life.
He was no fool. She’d taken a bullet for him—pushed him down and dove right in front of what would have most likely killed him. It had been a chest shot. She got lucky with a sideswipe.
And what was rolling around his head worse than the killer headache?
She’s immortal. She won’t want to date me—a human.
Not that she wouldn’t screw his brains out. Not that she wouldn’t want to do the horizontal chicken with him.
She won’t want to date me.
Date. As in, long-term, outside of the bedroom, lay a claim and let everyone know date.
He was screwed, and not the way he wanted. It shouldn’t have surprised him, though. He’d been tracking her butt for over a year. Wanted to meet her so badly he’d gotten his ass in trouble on a mission that he’d thought she might be on. He’d been right. She’d shown up, but that was after they’d done a lobotomy on him while he watched. It’d all been worth it though, once she’d walked in and pretty much saved his life. She’d done it without question either, without thought to anything but getting him out alive.
“Kincaid?” she whispered at his elbow.
He blinked. “Yeah, so they can reverse the monster mash. Where are the changelings now?” He settled his gaze on Demetry. Lar
isa annoyed him and Hunter was freaking him out. “Or those red-eyed monsters? Are they changelings?”
“I don’t know this, but they will tell us when Hunter awakens them,” Demetry said in his rough English.
“Hunter, can you wake them?” He was having a hard time keeping his face straight with the way Demetry spoke. Hunter studied the sleeping—he hoped—mages.
Surely she didn’t kill the guys.
“Sure, I guess. When? Now?”
“First, can you get him out of those chains?”
“Maybe,” she murmured. “They’re almost… They feel electric, not magical at all.”
Kincaid shifted his feet to keep still when she walked over and examined Demetry’s cuffed hands. She got close, right up against the man, too near for Kincaid’s liking, and lifted Demetry’s hands.
“I don’t get why you can’t move, though,” she said.
Demetry shrugged. “It’s as if my feet are here”—he gestured downward with his hands—“and will not move.”
“Huh, well, let me try something, okay? It might hurt…”
Demetry laughed lightly. “Go ahead, little one, your little magic will not hurt me.”
Kincaid almost grinned at that boast. He’d felt Hunter’s little magic.
Hunter didn’t seem to hear the Lykae, but a second later her hands glowed blue. Larisa moved aside, casting Kincaid a heated glance. Compared to Hunter, the Russian didn’t hold a candle. He focused back on Hunter and was in time to see a bright flash, then Demetry went flying across the tundra to land a hundred yards from them, flat on his back. Kincaid bit the inside of his cheek as smoke, or something like it, puffed up around the bigger man.
“Oh, shit.” Hunter raced over. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t—”
“It is fine,” Demetry managed, but by the squeak in his voice, it sounded like it cost him.
Oddly enough, Larisa hadn’t budged. Kincaid left her to go see the show. Demetry’s hands were free, and he was struggling to stand while Hunter tried to help him. As soon as he gained his feet, he shook his head hard then grumbled to Hunter that he was fine—again.
“So that worked great.” Kincaid nodded to Demetry.
Hunter stared at him, then shook her head and muttered something under her breath about him that wasn’t flattering.
