The Crystal Warriors Series Bundle

by Maree Anderson

  “Yes.”

  “Gee. How generous of her. Still, it’s the least she could fucking well do for you, considering.”

  “Why are you here, Chalcedony? Is it to torment me? To remind me of what I am giving up?”

  She launched from her seat and didn’t halt until she stood directly behind him. “Yes,” she agreed, inching forward until her breasts brushed his back. “And I’m going to continue to torment you until you stop being so fucking noble and come back home.”

  She rose up on tiptoe, brushing her lips against his earlobe. “To me. Where you belong.”

  He couldn’t help himself. He allowed her to turn him to face her. A grave error, for she pressed her lips to his in a fleeting, butterfly caress that left him wanting to unclench his fists from his sides and reach for her, hold her still and devour her. His muscles strained with the effort to remain still but his torment was only beginning.

  She speared her fingers through his hair to cup her palms about his skull. And, gods help him, she kissed him, long and deep. It was as though she was willing him to open to her, to surrender, to accept that he was hers. It was as though she was pouring her heart and soul into that kiss.

  And although it devastated him to hurt her, he did not yield. He reached up to manacle her wrists. Gently but inexorably, he disentangled himself and set her away from him. For her own good. “Why are you here, Chalcedony?”

  “Because I love you.” Longing and yearning shone in her eyes but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. He wished he could reveal the truth because this was not a game. This was not a courtship ritual, where one half of a couple hinted and teased, testing the waters before moving on to the next stage. This was Chalcedony. She was his life, the only woman he’d ever loved. And she deserved his honesty.

  But if he told her the truth, she would never willingly leave him.

  Last evening had been a special hell but he’d made peace with his decision. Now, with Chalcedony before him, with the scent of her luring him, the touch of her seducing him, his resolve threatened to weaken.

  He had listened to Francesca state her case in defense of her daughter and agreed that if the Crystal Guardian came for him, she would suffer—as Francesca had suffered when Malach was taken. He had countered that if they passed the Testing and he was released from the curse, Chalcedony would suffer not at all, for he loved her and would cherish her until the end of his days.

  “Ah,” she’d said, her expression not triumphant, as he’d expected, but immeasurably sad. “And have you considered that Chalcedony’s love for you is fake? That everything she professes to feel for you is nothing more than a cruel joke to give the Crystal Guardian the last laugh once the curse is broken?”

  “Then I will suffer the loss of her, true. And she will forget me and move on, as all lovers who’ve parted ways eventually do.” He’d shrugged and taken another bite of his steak, trying to make light of the very thing he’d come to fear most while the expensive food turned to ashes in his mouth.

  “I carry the guilt of Malach’s death to this day,” she’d said. “The pain never eases. It’s as fresh as the day I walked into our motel room and found it empty except for those two pieces of malachite. And then Pieter took even those from me, so I had nothing left of him but my memories. I’ve never gotten over Malach. Never. He haunts me.” He’d known that for the stark truth. And waited for the ax to fall.

  She’d sipped her wine, and slain his last defense with the one question he could not refute. “Are you willing to risk Chalcedony’s future happiness?”

  He was not. Above all else, he would not have Chalcedony suffer as her mother had done—and still did. He could not take the chance that they would fail the Testing. Best he break faith with her now. And rather than gloating over her success, Francesca had told him how best to achieve that break. He’d thought it an excellent plan, one that could not fail, until now.

  Chalcedony waited. Waited for him to crush her to him and kiss her and make everything all right again. He could see the expectation in her eyes, in the way she held her body poised, tensed with anticipation.

  He slashed her hopes and uttered the words that could make her hate him. “I do not believe you love me, Chalcedony.”

  Her legs gave out on her. He almost reached for her. But the gods were on his side, for before he could move, she locked her knees and backed away from him, her disbelief clawing a great gaping hole in his heart.

  “It’s true,” she told him, her voice shrill. “It’s true! I love you! Why won’t you believe me?” She the couch and collapsed into it, grief etched into every line of her beloved face.

  “I believe that you think you love me, Chalcedony. But what you feel for me is not real. ’Tis Pieter’s spell. Nothing more.”

  “And you? Do you truly believe that your feelings for me are fake? All this time we were together, every time we were intimate, every time you touched me, is that what you truly felt?”

  “I loved you.”

  She reeled as though she’d been slapped, and he knew she understood.

  Loved. Past tense.

  She swallowed, as though choking down a lump in her throat. But she wouldn’t give in. Not yet. “What’s changed?”

  “Everything.”

  Denial bubbled on her lips, but she couldn’t speak, couldn’t get the words out. For that small favor, at least, Wulf would be eternally grateful.

  He steeled himself to the cold implacable resolution of a warrior incapable of gentleness, or loving gestures, or feather-light caresses across a woman’s bare skin. “I will not allow you to sacrifice your chance at love for me, Chalcedony. I refute our bond and set you free.”

  “If… if this is because my mother—”

  “Do not blame Francesca for my decision. She merely clarified what I have long suspected.”

  “And that is?”

  “We do not belong together. ’Tis but another form of slavery to be-spell a woman and bond her to a man not of her own choosing.”

  “And if it is my choice? If I willingly choose you after the Testing?”

  “Ah, but there is the crux of the matter. For we will never truly know if you are willing, or merely influenced by the bond we share. Pieter’s spell is a cruel one. And I will not allow you to be the victim of such cruelty.”

  She gazed into his eyes, scrutinizing him for a sign that he was lying.

  He gave her nothing. He gave her nothing when she’d given him everything, when she’d ripped out her heart and laid it at his feet.

  “And is that your last word?”

  He could not trust himself to speak so he nodded.

  She jerked to her feet like a child’s puppet. “Well that’s it, then. No point in telling you it doesn’t matter whether this is a spell, because I love you now and now is all that matters. No point in telling you I’ll willingly undergo the Testing and life-bond with you. Not point in telling you I’ll do anything, sacrifice everything, to save you from that goddamned crystal. Because I love you.”

  He didn’t recall her moving but suddenly she was there, right up in his face. “Once this was all over, you could have gone your own way if you didn’t love me enough to stay. I would have understood and let you go. Goddamn you, I would have understood!”

  Still, he gave her nothing. Until finally she broke, lashing out at him, hitting and scratching, kicking and screaming like a madwoman.

  He didn’t defend himself. He stood and took it all, never flinching, never making a move to stop her, not even when she scored his face with her nails. And when she’d exhausted herself, when she was drained and limp and hoarse from yelling, he turned on his heel and opened the door. “It is time for you to leave, Chalcedony.”

  “Goddamn you to hell, you stubborn bastard,” she whispered.

  And as she stumbled out the door, he said, “You will thank me for this, one day.”

  She didn’t look back at him. Not once. But he clearly heard her reply. “No. I’ll hate you,
Wulf. I’ll hate you for not even giving me the chance to try and save you.”

  He stood in the corridor, by the hotel suite door, and watched her walk to the elevator and smack the down button. He watched her walk inside. And even though she’d disappeared from his view, he watched till the doors closed with a shattering finality that pierced his soul.

  ~~~

  Chapter Eighteen

  When Chalcey wandered into the kitchen, Sam and Marcus glanced up and then quickly down, concentrating far too intently on their breakfasts.

  “Morning,” she said, ignoring the undercurrents swirling around the room.

  “Coffee’s on.” Sam waved a casual hand toward the counter. “Marc made a fresh press a couple of minutes ago.”

  Chalcey poured a coffee and leaned against the counter, cradling the cup in her palms. Despite their efforts to be covert, she spotted Sam and Marcus both shooting glances at her. Great. Obviously they knew exactly what today was. There went her chances of trying to pretend nothing was different, that it was just a day like any other.

  She took a sip of coffee and tried not to grimace at the bitterness. It was not a patch on Wulf’s brew. He had a magical touch when it came to coffee.

  Crap. Now that she’d thought about him, her composure was totally screwed. Tears burned her eyes. She’d never realized that tears really could burn. They were mildly saline weren’t they? How could they burn? But these did. As had the tears that she’d cried for Wulf each night since she’d lost him.

  She stiffened her spine before facing Sam and Marcus again. “It’s okay, you two. You don’t need to walk softly around me. I’m not made of glass. I know you know what today is, so just say it, all right? Then we can get back to being normal.”

  Sam’s gaze oozed such compassion that Chalcey yearned to turn tail and flee. Either that or fall to her knees and lie her head in Sam’s lap so Sam could comfort her while she blubbered like a baby.

  “It’s exactly twenty-eight days since you first met Wulf, isn’t it, Chalcey?” Marcus finally said.

  “Yep.”

  “So?” Sam prompted.

  “So, I’m going to work. I’ve got a private lesson with Esmeralda coming up—she wants to move up to Intermediate level. Plus I need to work through a lesson plan. I’ll see you tonight, guys. Still okay for me to stay on until the weekend? I’m not getting in your way or cramping your style?”

  “No,” they both chorused.

  “Yeah, right. Look, you’ve both been wonderful but I need to go home sometime. I can’t hide out here forever.”

  “Why not?” Sam asked, her brows creasing in a frown. “Don’t you like my place, or something?”

  “Like it? I love it. It’s completely fabulous, you nitwit. But I didn’t convert the storage area of my studio into a living space just so I could change my mind and freeload off my rich best friend for the rest of my life. Besides, I think it’d be good to have some time to myself. Figure out where I’m at, so to speak.” She managed a credible smile, a genuine smile, which rather surprised her. But then, watching Sam and Marcus working things out was worth a smile or two. They were perfect for each other. “You two young lovers need some space. You don’t need a freeloading guest right now.”

  Sam glanced pointedly around the spacious apartment and snorted. “Plenty of space from what I can see. I’ve even been considering getting a dog.”

  Since Sam had always insisted that if there was going to be any bitch in her apartment, it would be her, Chalcey chose to ignore that incredible statement. She would believe Sam’s yen for canine companionship when she laid eyes on the puppy. “What if you two have a burning desire to jump each other’s bones some place other than the bedroom, huh? Would hate to think I’m depriving you of the chance to be truly depraved. And you and I both know I couldn’t afford the cost of a visit to your shrink to get over the trauma I’d suffer if I walked in on you two in flagrante delicto.”

  Vivid images of making love to Wulf in some pretty interesting places flooded her mind. Her grin faded.

  “So, are you going to try and talk to him again?” Sam wasn’t going to let her off easily. So much for Chalcey’s pathetic attempts to distract her.

  She took another sip of coffee. Her stomach rebelled. She whirled toward the sink and poured the rest of the coffee down the drain. Toast. She’d make toast. Wulf had never made her toast so perhaps she would be able to stomach that better.

  “Well? Are you?”

  “No, I’m not. He made his choice and now he has to live with the consequences. If he prefers death over a life with me, then who am I to convince him otherwise?”

  “That sucks, Chalce,” Marcus spoke up. “If you really love him, you should give it another shot.”

  “Good try, Marcus.” She stared him down until he got the hint to drop the subject.

  Sam pinned her with a thoughtful gaze. Uh oh. Wait for it….

  “When I ditched Marc, I made the biggest mistake of my life by screwing Ray. But Marc gave me another chance. And when he tried it on with you, I gave him another chance, too.”

  Marcus choked on his coffee. “You know about that?”

  She smiled.

  “Crap!” He glanced at Chalcey.

  “Don’t look at me,” she said. “You’re on your own with this one.”

  He gulped. “Sam. Sweetheart. I only kissed Chalcey because—”

  “Aha! So you did kiss her. Babe, you are so busted.”

  His jaw hung open as the realization that he’d been thoroughly played dawned.

  “She’s evil, Marcus,” Chalcey said. “Just thought you should know.”

  Sam huffed on her fingernails and buffed them on her robe. “Chill, Marc. I forgive you for kissing my best friend because we were on a break.”

  He recovered enough to growl deep in his throat. “Considering who you hooked up with when we were on that break, you’d bloody well better!”

  She walked her fingers up his chest. “I’ll forgive you—so long as you make it up to me.” Her voice was a purr. They exchanged a significant look that had Chalcey squirming and planning on being elsewhere tonight.

  Sam dragged her besotted gaze away from her equally besotted boyfriend’s. “So?”

  “So, what?” Chalcey said. Rats. So much for dodging that bullet.

  “Are you going to give him another chance?”

  Chalcey might have reiterated that Wulf had already said all he needed to say, that he’d made his choice, and she’d made hers. But she would have been lying.

  Dammit. Guess she was going to have to suck it up and give him one last shot. She picked up the phone and dialed his hotel. When he picked up the extension in his room, she said, “Meet me at the studio. You still have a key?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m leaving now.”

  “Very well. I’m taking a taxi. I will meet you there.”

  She rang off and turned to meet two hopeful gazes. “Don’t say another word,” she said. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t get your hopes up. He’s determined, and I can’t see me changing his mind.”

  “If you want to wait five minutes, I can give you a lift on my way to work,” Marcus offered.

  “Thanks, but the walk will help clear my head.” She rinsed her cup and plate in the sink, and then snagged the duffel full of her dance gear and headed out the door. Once she’d exited Sam’s building, she walked as slowly as she could, planning what she was going to say. Not even splurging on a halfway decent takeout coffee helped her organize her thoughts. This was going have to be ad-libbed from the heart.

  All too soon she rounded the corner and stood outside her studio. The street door was ajar. Huh. Wasn’t like Wulf to be so careless. He’d taken Will’s advice about security to heart, and had been vigilant about locking the street door. Perhaps he wasn’t as calm and sure about his choices as he sounded.

  She left the door ajar so Esmeralda wouldn’t have to phone up to be let in when she arriv
ed for her lesson, then dragged herself up the stairs. Her mind whirled with all the things she wanted to say. Did she need to say them for her own benefit, to help alleviate her own guilt and pain, or might they be better left unsaid? But if she didn’t say them, for the rest of her life she would always wonder.

  The rest of her life. A life without Wulf.

  With each step, she died a little more inside.

  At the internal door to the studio she paused. She could head back to Sam’s. Call Esmeralda and reschedule. Then she wouldn’t have to face Wulf, face having her heart ripped out all over again.

  Don’t be a fucking coward, Chalcey. She squared her shoulders and pushed open the door.

  ~~~

  The studio door opened. Dread sliced through Wulf. He dared not move for fear that he would topple over. He refused to give the rabid bastard that satisfaction. With agonizing slowness, he slid his gaze sideways to see Chalcedony paused at the threshold. Her mouth was agape as she took in the smears of blood where he had dragged himself across the floor to prop his back against the wall. Shock turned to horror as she turned her gaze on him.

  Wulf snarled a silent curse. He’d hoped…. He’d hoped she wouldn’t come, prayed to every god he knew that she’d change her mind about meeting him here, and leave him to his fate.

  He sucked in a deep breath, filling his lungs, ignoring the agony that ripped through his abdomen and the flood of wetness that soaked the material of the shirt beneath his fingers. “Run!”

  His hoarse shout throbbed through the room.

  The madman aimed his weapon at Wulf. “I’m warning you. Shut the fuck up or—”

  “Terry?” Chalcey said, her voice tight and strained. “What the hell have you done?”

  “My name is Terrence—not fucking Terry!”

  “Okay, okay. Calm down. What’s going on, Terrence? Why are you here?”

  Chalcey’s stricken features blurred to a hazy outline. A hazy outline that seemed to be coming closer. Wulf blinked and she came back into focus. Damn her. Did she have no sense of self-preservation? He could only watch, profound fear for her safety compounding the lightheadedness of bloodless, as she approached the man—Terrence—her hands held palm up at chest height, proclaiming that she was no threat.