The Crystal Warriors Series Bundle

by Maree Anderson

  The room spun. She couldn’t move except to blink. And try to breathe. She shut her eyes against the sparkly stars cavorting through her headspace.

  Wulf—she’d know his scent and the feel of him anywhere—plucked her from the floor. Vaguely, as though from a great distance, she heard Jai diverting the enthralled crowd by announcing a free Salsa class and enlisting Paulo and Leah to teach it. Thank God for Jai. The swell of the music, the murmurs of the crowd and Paulo’s yelled instructions were abruptly quelled by the bedroom door sliding shut behind her.

  Wulf sat on the edge of the bed with her cradled in his arms. Her jaw chose that moment to begin to throb and when she moved it experimentally, the pain swelled.

  The door swooshed opened and closed again. She heard her mother’s voice issuing instructions and Jai’s murmured assent. Wulf’s body tensed, and the arms that held her tightened to steely bands.

  “Chalcey, I’m so sorry. I just lost it. I didn’t mean to hit you.”

  “‘S alright, Marcus,” she slurred, peeling open her eyelids to focus on his stricken face. “I know it was an accident. ‘S just one of those stupid things that happens, huh? ‘Sides, I shouldn’t have got in the way.”

  “Yeah, that was pretty dumb.”

  “Indeed,” Wulf said.

  “You two agree on something?” she joked weakly. “Oh, be still my beating heart!”

  “Hush, Chalcedony,” Francesca said. “This is hardly a laughing matter.”

  “The highlight of my opening night party’s gonna be a brawl instead of dance demos. Yeah, it’s not funny at all.” The tears she’d been holding inside spilled out and she buried her face in Wulf’s chest.

  He stroked soothing circles on her back with his palm. “What is wrong, Chalcedony? Do you suffer pain?”

  “Do I suffer pain?” She giggled through her tears. “Oh, I suffer pain all right. I’m suffering from a couple of really big ones, in fact.” She mopped at her face with her palms until Francesca pressed a lace handkerchief into her hand.

  “I think she means you,” Marcus informed Wulf, his tone insufferably triumphant.

  Chalcey sniffled, and struggled to sit up a bit straighter in Wulf’s arms. “I meant you, too, Marcus. You’ve put me in a really awkward spot here.” She pulled herself together. Time to quit sniveling because no matter how shitty she felt, it was time to go in to bat for her best friend. “Aren’t you interested in Sam anymore? I thought you were like, really interested.”

  He stared at her, eyes darkened with what Chalcey thought might be a combination of anger and hope. “Sam told you.”

  “Duh. Of course Sam told me. Well?”

  “I— Fuck. Maybe. Depends on Sam. I haven’t been able to track her down since she cut out on me. And now there’s this guy.” He indicated Wulf with a gesture that managed to convey disgust and a heap of dislike.

  “I am not interested in bedding Samantha.” Wulf’s flatly implacable tone brooked no argument.

  “Sam really likes you, Marcus.” Chalcey blew her nose on her mother’s pathetic little excuse for a hanky.

  “If this is interested, she’s sure playing hard to get,” he muttered.

  “Mmmm. She’s not the only one.”

  He had the grace to appear abashed, which would have gratified the heck out of Chalcey if her jaw wasn’t throbbing. “Sorry,” he said.

  “Sorry for what? For sleeping with my best friend after she picked you up in a club, and when she leaves you high and dry, hitting on me to try and make her jealous?” She knew she’d hit a raw spot when Marcus winced.

  “Sam made it pretty clear she was only interested in keeping it casual, so I knew exactly what I was getting in to. I suppose I thought she’d changed her mind when we—” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “And when she just took off without leaving her number— Shit. Anyway, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  “‘S okay, Marcus. Sam’s pretty hard to resist when she wants someone. Better men than you have tried and failed.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “Marcus, please. Don’t write her off completely. She’s just scared about what she feels for you, is all.”

  “Really.”

  “Yes. Really. Look, deep down she’s just looking for the same thing we all are, the—”

  “Right man!” Jai crowed, as he rejoined the crowd in Chalcey’s small bedroom. “Gotta agree with that sentiment.”

  “Do you want Sam’s number or not?” Chalcey asked, determined to see this through to the end. She’d already betrayed Sam’s confidence. Might as well make it really count.

  Marcus stood there, all “no woman’s gonna make a fool outta me” staunch, and just when Chalcey was about to give him up for a lost cause, he nodded.

  She recited Sam’s number for him and waited for him to program it into his cell.

  “Good decision, dude,” Jai said, clapping Marcus on the back. “Everybody out. Right now. Chalcey needs quiet, an icepack and some painkillers. Take your manly crap elsewhere, you two.” He fixed Wulf and Marcus with the evil eye à la Jai. “And don’t even think of taking it back into the studio or I’ll call the cops and have you both booted out on your fine asses. Heck, I’ll even sell tickets to the grand event.”

  Marcus eyed Jai, and then backed out of the room without a murmur.

  The same couldn’t be said for Wulf. Huh. Why did that not surprise her?

  It was tempting to snuggle into the warmth of his body, let him block out the world and help her forget about her problems. In other words, beg him to repeat the shower incident. In the bed, this time. And maybe afterward they could adjourn to the shower.

  She wished she could channel Sam right now. Sam wouldn’t have any problems with bundling everyone out of her bedroom and asking a guy to stick around. But she wasn’t Sam. She didn’t have that kind of “the future can go shoot for the moon because I’m getting laid by a hot guy” attitude. Besides, Wulf was part of Chalcedony’s problem. A big part. If she were completely honest, she was so damned gone on him that he’d become The Problem, almost to the exclusion of everything else in her life. And Chalcey had worked too hard, come too far, to toss her dreams aside for a man she’d just met. Even if that man was Wulf.

  ~~~

  Chalcedony stirred, prodding Wulf to fight free of the haze of lust and longing that she’d enveloped him in. The tiny jerking of her muscles, the tension in her spine, told him she was conflicted. Part of her seemed content to stay right where she was, in his arms. Another part of her wanted very much to move away, most likely to distance herself from him so that she could think.

  He couldn’t blame her. The vanilla-sweetness of the shampoo she used on her hair, the berry flavored salve she’d painted on her lips, the heady scent of whatever she’d sprayed on her body, were honeyed traps that enticed him to hold her closer, to taste her, to press his lips to the skittish pulse in her throat and soothe her concerns… despite the knowing stare of the man she’d danced so provocatively with, and the antagonistic eyes of the woman, Francesca. Instead, he eased Chalcedony from his lap, onto the mattress, and stood staring down at her.

  “You, too, Wulf-man,” her dance partner—Jai—said. “Give her some space.”

  Wulf wasn’t inclined to allow any man to dictate to him where Chalcedony was concerned. “Do you wish for me to go, Chalcedony?”

  “It’s not about what she wants,” Francesca said, her tone sharp enough to cut. “It’s about what’s best for her. And you’re not it.”

  Wulf fixed his gaze on her. She flinched, but held her ground. He wondered what he’d done to earn her instant dislike, and why she was so protective of Chalcedony.

  “Quit mothering me,” Chalcey said, sounding tired and distant, lacking her usual spark of stubborn defiance. “I’ve been pretty much looking after myself since Dad died.”

  Francesca’s face blanked of all expression but Wulf had spent many years observing potential opponents. With her words alone, Chalcedony had del
ivered a painful blow to the other woman. Ah yes. He could see it now—the similarities in the bone structure of their faces, the set of their mouths, the graceful way they held themselves. Mother and daughter. With a lifetime of shared hurts to overcome.

  Still, it was not his concern whether Chalcedony’s mother approved or disapproved of him. The only one whose opinion mattered was the woman who huddled on the bed, knees drawn up to her chin, unwilling to meet his gaze. “Do you wish me to leave you be, Chalcedony?” he asked.

  “Yes. I do. Please.”

  She lied. He knew it in his gut, in his soul, in the tell-tale slump of her shoulders, and the tears trickling down her cheeks that she didn’t attempt to hide. He didn’t argue with her, even knowing that it would have been so very easy to bend her to his will. One kiss and she would have been his. But tempting as it was to use such knowledge to his advantage, Wulf held back. If he used such underhanded wiles, she would only repeat her previous actions. She would use him to assuage her physical needs and afterward, be so racked with guilt and self-loathing that she would push him away.

  No. He would not make the same mistake again. This time, she would have to come to him, knowing full well what she sought, and what the inevitable outcome would be.

  “You know where to find me,” he said, and left her to her watchful guardians.

  Walking away from her, again, was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Especially when he was well aware from Francesca’s carefully worded phrase that she somehow understood the significance a true name held for Styrians of the warrior caste.

  How had Chalcedony’s mother come to possess that sort of knowledge?

  If he’d correctly interpreted the protective determination in Francesca’s gaze, Chalcedony would soon become privy to whatever Francesca knew. Or thought she knew. And he knew in his bones that a woman like Francesca, a woman who looked at him with such fear and loathing in her eyes, would not hesitate to twist the facts and try to turn Chalcedony against him.

  ~~~

  Chapter Nine

  Jai demonstrated once again that he was Mr. Efficiency in a crisis. Chalcey was tucked beneath the comforter, and given painkillers and an icepack for her bruised jaw before she could form a coherent thought. Unfortunately, even Jai was fallible. The quiet he’d promised was not going to happen, because when he left, he didn’t take Francesca with him. She so wasn’t looking forward to Francesca’s inevitable lecture.

  She waited. And waited. And waited some more.

  Finally, hoping she hadn’t noticed her mother had sneaked out of the room, she pried open her eyes.

  “Chalcedony.”

  Drat. “Yes?”

  “Are you in love with Wulf?”

  “In love? Puhlease. I hardly know him. I’m certainly not in love with him.” In lust maybe, but not in love.

  Francesca sighed. Theatrically. She’d always been a master at conveying Chalcedony’s inability to grasp what was really important with a mere sigh. “Unfortunately, Wulf loves you—in his way. As much as a man like him is able to love.”

  Broadside your daughter with a change of subject, why don’t you? “Yeah, riiight. Like you can tell after having met him for what, five whole minutes?”

  “I know what I know.”

  Argh. She hated it to bits and beyond when Francesca pulled that crap. How was anyone supposed to muster a coherent response to a cryptic statement like that?

  “And I have no doubt that this has something to do with the way you are feeling.” Francesca thrust something so close to Chalcey’s face that her eyes crossed and she saw double. She heaved herself upward from her prone position and scooted up the mattress to lean against the wall. By which time she’d discovered that she wasn’t seeing double at all and Francesca happened to be brandishing the two halves of broken crystal Chalcey had stuck on the crate beside her bed.

  “That? Gee whiz, Francesca, they’re broken hunks of stone. Are they by any chance supposed to be a brilliantly accurate metaphor representing my hypothetically soon to be broken heart?”

  “Where did you get this crystal from, Chalcedony?”

  “So far as I can figure out, some weird old guy gave it to me after I wandered into his store. It’s obviously some cheap crappy stone because it broke shortly afterward. Do you want it? You can add it—them—to your collection if you like.”

  Her mother’s gaze sharpened. “Can you take me to this store?”

  Unease twisted Chalcey’s stomach. She tried for light and airy, hoping that she could play down the incident. “Probably not. I looked for it again after—” She bit her lip before she could blurt all about the café and the episode of lost time. Francesca would have a field day and Chalcey would never get rid of her. Less was definitely more.

  “I searched for the store but I couldn’t find it again. Now don’t start booking me in for psychiatric evaluation or anything, okay? I was distracted and probably got the wrong street. You know how it is in the city—the entire area is a planning disaster of monumental proportions.”

  “This old man, can you describe him to me?”

  Chalcey sagged with relief. Thank God her mother didn’t seem interested in her inability to locate the store. She’d dodged that bullet.

  “Focus, Chalcedony. Can you describe the old man?”

  “Other than him being old? No. Not really. Why?”

  “One more question. Now think very carefully. Did anything strange happen when the crystal broke?”

  “Jeez, Francesca, since I’m not sure exactly when it broke, I couldn’t tell you. Why the second Spanish Inquisition, huh? You heard Jai, I need rest and quiet—quiet being the operative word here.”

  Her mother dished some superlative evil eyes but Chalcey hung tough and refused to volunteer any further information. “Very well,” Francesca finally said. “I’ll leave you alone to rest for a while. But before I go, would you like to know the name of this crystal you value so little?”

  “You mean the useless damn crystal I got for free?”

  “It’s wulfenite.” Dropping the pieces into Chalcey’s lap, she swept from the bedroom. She always did know how to make an impressive exit.

  Chalcey fingered the broken pieces of wulfenite crystal and tried very hard to think happy thoughts. Because if she dwelled on the possible implications of that stunning coincidence, she was likely to go nuts.

  She flopped back down on the bed and closed her eyes… and ended up reviewing the moments immediately before her encounter with Wulf. She’d tripped and fallen when the heel snapped off her sandal. Her bag had gone flying. Was that when the crystal had broken?

  Maybe. Probably.

  And then…. And then Wulf had appeared on the scene to rescue her from Ray.

  Shit. Could Wulf have emerged from the crystal when it broke?

  Nah.

  But then she recalled the crystals she’d seen in the store, and the old man who had chatted about them and been so eager to show them to her. She stewed over the time she’d lost, obsessed over the overwhelming suspicion that she’d somehow been irrevocably changed since that encounter. And darnitall, she was forced to conclude that it appeared all too possible Wulf had come from the crystal. If she believed in that kind of stuff, of course.

  Which she didn’t.

  But what other explanation was there?

  Sleep dragged her under and the explanation become crystal clear in her dreams. She saw a man she recognized. Wulf. Strangely, or perhaps it wasn’t so strange because this was a dream, she knew his innermost thoughts.

  He reined in his mount. He slid from the saddle, stepping back the instant before its yellowed teeth would have torn a chunk from his shoulder. He clouted the beast’s nose with his fist. The stallion snorted its displeasure but bothered him no further with its tricks. It was a fine battle-mount but it had an evil temper. And Wulf saw no reason to tame it. He and the horse had an understanding. Wulf was master absolute and in turn, he allowed his mount to indulge itself with any ot
her unfortunate who strayed too close to its teeth or hooves. He knew, though, that if he allowed the beast to better him even once, he would end up flat on his back with a broken neck when he least expected it. And, by the gods, if that ever came to pass he would deserve his fate.

  He gazed at the cluster of dwellings nestled in the hollow of the gently undulating, fertile valley far below. A sneer curled his lip. A land of plenty. A soft land, overflowing with bounty and ripe for plucking. Easily conquered—much like its people.

  A fine rain misted his exposed skin, its unaccustomed coolness raising tiny bumps on his arms. His clothing, a vest of supple sand-lizard leather, matching trousers and sturdy boots, was well-suited to battling with the other tribes back in his homeland of endless sands and relentless heat. But not so comfortable in this realm.

  Whispers of some unnamed power carried on the breeze, taunting him. The inexorable greenness of the vista before him made his eyes ache, and he found himself yearning for Sol’s warmth.

  Damn this land to Halja for eternity! If he stayed here much longer he would be in danger of becoming as weak and pliant as the females he and his men had captured.

  He left his mount to graze, knowing the horse would not stray from such excellent fodder, and strode down from the hillock, calling for his Tehun-Leader. “Malach, have we filled our quota of females yet?”

  The older man shook his head. “Not quite, Lord Keeper. This last village ought to be doing it.”

  Wulf grunted. “Good. Then let us make haste so that we may depart this benighted land.”

  “If I might make a suggestion, Lord Keeper?”

  “Speak.”

  “It has been noticed that Kyan is eyeing up one of captives.”

  “What do my men say of this, Malach?”

  “They say nothing. They merely bide their time to see whether or not Kyan will be permitted to take his pick.”

  Wulf’s lip curled. “Like the priests, my kinsman has become overly concerned with his own comforts. Doubtless he bemoans the chill, and rather than riding into battle, he desires a female to warm his privates. If he does not take due care he will become a pathetic and sniveling coward—as are the men of this land.” He flexed the shoulder of his sword-arm, working a strained muscle.