Last of the Ravens

by Linda Winstead Jones

  She wrapped her arms around him, and Bren closed his eyes and did the same, holding her, pulling her soft body against his. She had to feel his erection pressing against her, but she didn’t react, didn’t move away or shift her body or rub against him. She simply stood there, as if it was the only place she wanted to be.

  Miranda thought a condom would solve all their problems, but he didn’t think any sort of protection would keep her from conceiving, not for very long. No Pill, no patch, no cream or condom would stop what was meant to be. If they chose to be together, if they followed their instincts, eventually the next of the Korbinians would be created. He could lie with any other woman in the world and not have to worry about making a child, but with this one, with his Kademair, creation was inevitable.

  His desire for her was unstoppable, as was hers for him. He shouldn’t have followed her into the cabin, he thought as he unfastened the buttons of the sweater that covered her pajamas and gently drew it over her shoulders and down her arms before dropping it to the floor. He shouldn’t have stayed with her after the sheriff had left. They shouldn’t be alone like this, not until he was certain and she knew the truth. They were tempting fate, tossing away their chance to end this before it went too far.

  But it was too late. Miranda’s hands were on him. Her mouth brushed his throat, up and down, gently tasting. Her breath came fast and heavy, her heart beat in time with his, and when he looked into her eyes, he saw the depth of desire there, he saw in her the same driving need he felt to the pit of his soul.

  Had she dreamed about him last night? Did a part of her already know what he was?

  “I’ve never felt like this before,” Miranda whispered. “I’m not…I don’t…” She pressed her body more snuggly against his and moaned. “What have you done to me?”

  What had he done to her? He’d laugh, but it wasn’t funny. This woman had the ability to turn his well-ordered life upside down. There was so much to consider before he made that decision. Did he want the life he had accepted as impossible? Did he want the responsibility of siring, teaching and protecting the next wave of Korbinians? How could he think with Miranda so close, with her smell in his nostrils and her warmth melding with his?

  Bren reached for reason. Even if he was sure this was what he wanted—and he wasn’t at all sure—he couldn’t tell her the truth here and now. That conversation, if it came, called for calm and control, for some semblance of logic. At the moment he could find no logic. To simply show her who he was, as he’d considered last night, wouldn’t be wise. Not now, when she was shaken and uncertain. It would be too much of a shock to her already fragile system.

  He needed more time, and he felt as if he had none.

  She reached out and grasped his waistband, her thumb brushing the button there and then down the ridge beneath. He could try to tell her that he didn’t want her, but she’d never believe him. He’d always been good at keeping the secrets he had to keep, at hiding his thoughts and feelings from those outside a very small circle. But what he felt was so strong, and Miranda was in the center of it all. Surely she knew; surely she could see.

  He stilled her maddening caress with a hand on her wrist. He couldn’t lose himself inside her and then stop, not again. He was too close to the edge. Too close to losing what little control he had left.

  But before he put an end to this he could—and did—touch her. His fingers on her throat, his mouth on that sensitive spot beneath her ear, his palms on her slender hips. She responded to every touch, no matter how gentle. He could have her here and now if he chose to, and then the decision would be made for both of them. She would no longer have a choice, and neither would he.

  Sunlight poured through the sliding glass door, and in this place where just last night Miranda had experienced terror she gave in to warmth and pleasure. She lost herself in his caress, melting in his arms and making his decision to wait all the more difficult.

  “I want all of you,” she whispered, boldly and firmly laying her hand over his erection.

  “Not yet,” he responded, his voice grating and more unsteady than it should be.

  “Why?”

  “It isn’t time,” he said.

  Miranda seemed to accept the statement, even as her body fit warmly and welcomingly against his. These two bodies had been made for one another, and though this woman, his Kademair, did not yet know who he was—or who she was—she instinctively recognized the rightness, the inevitability, of their coming together.

  Could he have her without claiming her? Could he somehow take what he wanted without creating a child that would change his entire world?

  Her body trembled with need; so did his. He held her close and they stood there, without words, without demand. Finally Miranda’s head fell back and she looked at him squarely.

  “Is this love?” she asked, open and plainspoken.

  “No, it’s not,” Bren responded honestly. Their attraction was physical; it was nature’s demand that the species survive. It was sexual heat and the spiritual bond known only to his kind. That wasn’t love.

  “I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you. And I want all of you, Bren. Every inch, heart and soul and body. I will not be satisfied until you are entirely and completely mine, until we are together and you hold nothing back.” She shook her head. “I can’t figure out why I feel so strongly. In truth, I barely know you. Is it the isolation of this place? Is it a response to the fear I experienced last night? Or would I feel this way if I’d met you in the grocery store over the tomatoes?”

  He could answer all her questions, but he wasn’t ready to tell her everything, not here and now. Maybe it would be best if he sent her home and told her never to come back. Their lives could continue as they had before she’d come here…and he would forever want what he couldn’t take.

  Bren reluctantly pushed away from her. He hadn’t decided to claim her; he hadn’t decided to tell her the truth. But he did know one thing. While she was here, Miranda was his to protect. “Pack a bag. You’re moving to my house.”

  Her eyebrows lifted slightly. She attempted to look defiant. “Don’t you think you should invite me into your home rather than ordering me there?”

  Biology or not, destiny or not, he did not play games. His life was not a sport and neither was hers. “The sheriff is an idiot. Someone broke into this cabin last night and tried to kill you. I don’t like it. Pack a damn bag and make it snappy.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said with a reluctant smile, snatching her sweater from the floor as she walked toward the bedroom.

  “And put on some clothes,” he called after her. “I have some errands to run and I’m not leaving you alone.” He wasn’t letting Miranda out of his sight until he knew who had tried to hurt her—and why.

  Miranda dressed in comfortable blue jeans that fit her snugly and a teal blouse that was cut slightly lower than her other blouses. It wouldn’t hurt to show just a hint of cleavage, such as it was. She didn’t have much makeup with her and had brought along no perfume at all, but thank goodness her cupboard was not entirely bare. She put on some pale pink lip gloss and a touch of mascara. She brushed her hair vigorously before plopping her favorite porkpie hat on her head. Maybe she would never be gorgeous, but she could be attractive when she put forth a little effort.

  Bren made her feel gorgeous. He looked at her as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world, even when she wasn’t at her best.

  When she was prepared, she quickly gathered up anything she thought she might need and dumped it all in her purse, then she packed a small bag she could take to Bren’s house. How odd, to be moving in with a man she’d just met and feeling so completely comfortable with the idea. She’d never lived with a man before, had never even considered it. True, this arrangement was just for the week, but it was still momentous.

  Before leaving the bedroom with her things Miranda glanced around. “Well, Dee, are you happy now?”

  There was no response.

&
nbsp; Bren was waiting for her as she walked out of the room. He took her suitcase, looked her up and down, and mumbled something she didn’t entirely catch. Something about trying to kill him, she thought. She snagged her laptop and exited right behind Bren, locking the cabin door. Maybe that was a waste of time, with the broken window so close by and obvious, but it didn’t seem right to leave the cabin wide open. While they were out she’d make arrangements to get the window repaired and the wiring fixed. Surely Bren would know someone who could handle the job.

  Driving down the hill with the trees seeming to close in on her and the shade of those trees ominously dark, Miranda felt a knot forming in her stomach. A knot and butterflies. She instinctively gripped the door handle.

  Even though he barely glanced at her, Bren apparently realized something was wrong. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” Miranda said in a lowered voice. “I’m fine.” Last night’s fear was finally catching up with her. Why hadn’t she felt any warning before the intruder broke into the cabin? Why hadn’t she instinctively known yesterday that something was wrong? Why now?

  Bren reached across and laid his hand on her thigh. His fingers momentarily slipped between her thighs, lightly teasing, amazingly arousing, and in that instant Miranda knew why her instincts had failed her. Her inescapable desire for this man wiped away everything else. It was stronger, more potent, than any fear could possibly be.

  “How long will these errands of yours take?” she asked.

  “A couple of hours.”

  One of those errands needed to be a stop at a drugstore for condoms. She didn’t want to get carried away again, and she knew if any man could make her forget all reason it was this one.

  Was this love? Maybe. Lust? Absolutely, and in an all-consuming way she had not known was possible.

  Duncan leaned against his car door as he peered through a pair of powerful binoculars. At Korbinian’s present jobsite, the builder issued orders while Miranda Lynch waited in his truck, her eyes glued to the freakish thing as if she were physically incapable of looking at anything else.

  Considering what he’d heard when he’d arrived in town early that morning after driving much of the night, he was not surprised when his cell rang and he saw a familiar number on the caller-ID display.

  “Archard,” he answered brusquely, continuing to study his subjects through the binoculars, in case they decided to take flight while he was occupied with explanations. Not for the first time, he mentally groused that he’d joined the Order to do good and had ended up a freakin’ birdwatcher.

  “Was it you?” Quinn asked simply.

  “It was not,” Duncan replied honestly. “Even if I had been so inclined, there’s no way I could’ve made it from your place to the cabin in time.”

  “You could’ve hired it done,” the old man said. “You might’ve come here merely to establish your alibi with me and with the Order. You know we don’t take kindly to rogue agents.”

  Duncan’s jaw tightened. “Given the choice, I’d take out Korbinian, not Lynch. Freak or not, she does some good with what she’s been given. It makes more sense to kill Korbinian.”

  “I thought you might’ve decided to go after the softer target.”

  “No, sir,” Duncan replied, insulted and not afraid to reveal that reaction in his voice. “My only participation in the event was to call the sheriff when I heard the news and suggest strongly that Ms. Lynch is a bit unstable and given to exaggerating events. I thought it best that local law enforcement not spend too much time investigating her, as we do not know what the coming days will require.”

  The old man sighed into the phone. “All right, then, I suppose I have no choice but to believe you for the time being. Are you sure she’s the one?” Quinn asked as he had too often last night.

  “Positive.”

  “Have they…you know.” A man of another generation, Quinn was sometimes strangely shy about intimate matters.

  “I don’t believe they’ve had sex yet,” Duncan said plainly, “but I suspect it won’t be long. Those two are dancing around one another like they’re walking on needles, and they both jump at every sound. It looks to me as if they’re in the mating-dance stage, which won’t last long with them. They’re skittish and wound up and when the time comes you can be assured they won’t be showing themselves in public for a few days.” No, they’d be holed up at Korbinian’s place, screwing their brains out until Miranda Lynch was carrying an unnatural child who could not be allowed to come into this world. “We don’t have a lot of time. What do you want me to do?”

  “I have an idea.” Judging by the lilt in his voice, Quinn was quite pleased with himself. “It came to me this morning as I was drinking my second cup of coffee. Knowing what I do about Miranda Lynch, I believe the plan will work perfectly. And best of all, no one has to die. I understand that’s not in line with your way of thinking, but you must know by now that every elimination comes with a potential cost to the Order. It would not do for you to be found out, Duncan. You’re much too valuable to risk.”

  That said, Quinn laid out his plan. Duncan watched his prey and listened. He didn’t agree with the old man, but he was a good soldier who took orders and did as he was told. He was also not oblivious to the veiled threat in Quinn’s words. If Duncan became a liability, he, too, would be “at risk.” The fact that the old man knew what had happened last night proved that not only was Duncan a watcher, he was among the watched, as well.

  When Quinn finished laying out his plan, Duncan said, “If you insist, I’ll give it a try. You’re gambling on the girl’s tender heart, and that’s not exactly a given, not if she’s strongly driven to reproduce by powers we don’t entirely understand.”

  “I’m well aware of that. Still, I believe the plan is solid.”

  Duncan ended the call more agitated than he’d been when it had begun. The sheriff had made it clear to anyone who bothered to ask that whoever had broken into Miranda Lynch’s place last night had been a burglar, probably an addict looking for something to sell so he could get his next fix. Nothing more. Pity, if that was true. If the man who’d scared Lynch into Korbinian’s keeping had succeeded in taking out the pretty medium, Duncan’s life here would get much easier. If there was no chance that Korbinian could ever reproduce, then all Duncan would have to do was watch and make sure the freak’s abilities never became public.

  It was even possible that if Lynch was out of the picture a new recruit could take this easy assignment and Duncan could move on to something more challenging. He’d heard there was a possible vampire sighting in Montana, and shape-shifters were a constant problem across the country and across the world. That was the type of work Duncan craved. He wanted action; he had joined the Order so he could kill the monsters that threatened the innocent.

  Korbinian was a freak, but he was no monster. Lynch was far from normal, but she wouldn’t hurt a fly. And still, if Quinn’s plan didn’t work Duncan knew he would very likely have to kill them both.

  Bren suffered few doubts about what the night would bring. They bought condoms, he touched Miranda when he could, and she looked at him as if she wanted to eat him up. He couldn’t bear to let her out of his sight, so he didn’t even consider leaving her in another safe place, with others he trusted. Instead, she stayed with him all morning and into the afternoon, so he could turn his head and see her there, safe and arousing and tempting. With every glance, every innocent and not so innocent touch, their coming together seemed more inevitable.

  The day did not pass without doubts. This had happened too fast. His life and hers would be ruined if he followed his instincts and allowed Miranda to follow hers. He wanted her body, there was no doubt about that, but he wasn’t sure he wanted what having her in his life promised. He’d almost convinced himself that he could have her in his bed for a night or two or three and then send her home, but deep down he knew that once he had Miranda completely, a night or two wouldn’t satisfy him. Once they began he wouldn’t le
t her out of his sight until she was carrying his child.

  Even when he touched her, when he stole a kiss, he was aware of the uncertainties. Miranda talked to ghosts. What other secrets did she have? What if he let her into his life and when the strong sexual need was relieved, they found they didn’t like each other much? Korbinians had always been promised that they and their Kademairs would bond and reproduce. Love and compatibility had never been mentioned. In the past couple of days they’d been thrown together, but in truth he didn’t know Miranda Lynch. She sure as hell didn’t know him.

  Still, no matter what happened tonight, he intended to keep a close eye on Miranda and make sure she stayed safe. Someone had tried to kill her, and like it or not, he was responsible for her as long as she remained on his mountain.

  Chapter 7

  Bren’s errands, which he had promised her would take no more than two hours, managed to eat up half the day. With every passing hour, every passing minute, Miranda felt more compelled to jump his lovely bones. There had been a fleeting but powerful moment when she’d actually considered attacking him while they were stopped at a red light.

  He looked at her as if he wanted to eat her up. After they’d bought protection at the local drugstore, he’d seemed even more turned on. In the parking lot he’d touched her intimately, but then he’d moved away too quickly, and she’d seen a touch of uncertainty in his eyes and in the way his body tensed.

  Bren wanted her physically, that much was evident. If she was reading his body language correctly, if her instincts hadn’t completely deserted her, he also wasn’t entirely sure about this relationship, which had blown up too fast. He’d been blindsided, she understood that. So had she.

  Sometime after lunch Miranda reminded herself once again that the intensity with which she wanted Bren was not at all normal. Not for her, anyway. She didn’t sleep with men she’d known two days. She didn’t forget about protection, she didn’t salivate over a man’s body, no matter how fine it might be. Had he drugged her? Hypnotized her? Had she simply lost her mind in last night’s terror and excitement? Was she having a nervous breakdown or some kind of weird hormonal attack?