Betrayed by Shadows

by Nancy Gideon

  Brigit broke from his kiss as her back arched in catlike ecstasy. His big hands found her breasts, kneading, gently squeezing, pulling them within reach of his greedy mouth so he could suckle with a fierce intensity.

  Just when the sensations began to gather and tighten within her, Giles clapped his hands to the backs of her thighs, lifting her from him, pulling her upward so he could suckle her throbbing sex with the same urgency.

  She came in a host of lusty little cries. Even as that first sharp explosion of pleasure shook through her, Giles fitted her back atop him, guiding her with forceful thrusts from one incredible orgasm to the next. Finally letting the strength of her contractions bring him to his own savage conclusion.

  Brigit lay limp and gasping upon his chest, dazed by their fantastic coupling, then further stunned by his husky declaration.

  “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do, nothing I wouldn’t accept, to have you, Brigit MacCreedy. Nothing.”

  She clung to those words, hoping, praying they were true.

  Giles awoke with a tremendous sense of satisfaction to find the goddess of his dreams yet curled upon him.

  She was falling in love with him.

  He smiled, content not to move or open his eyes as time eased along in inconsequential minutes.

  He’d never experienced such a completeness of heart and mind. He’d loved Maggie. But the college boy he was during their blissful interval wasn’t who he’d always been inside. Sweet, loving Maggie hadn’t been able to understand the darkness of the things he’d been compelled to do, because she’d never seen who he was beyond what she’d wanted him to be.

  Brigit not only understood, she saw right to the true soul of him. His goddess was no beauty meant for idolizing on some lofty pedestal. A warrior’s heart beat within her.

  She’d stood braced beside him, giving no quarter. She was shrewd, hard when she needed to be, tough if the situation called for it. Yet fragile when it came to trust and hope. If he could prove to her that he’d be a reliable steward in those two areas, he could have her.

  The thought of having her filled him with a trembling eagerness. The thought of protecting her brought that darkness roaring back to the surface. The notion of her in his life forever created a stunned sense of gratitude and excitement. He was certain there’d never be a dull moment.

  This wild, unpredictable, passionate creature, whose delicate hand rested softly upon the side of his face, was everything he desired.

  He turned his head slightly to touch a kiss to her slack fingers. What a family they’d make between them. Tall, strapping sons. Little red-haired hellions for daughters. His to love and teach and dote upon. A strange and wonderful constriction clutched within his chest.

  Her hand turned and grazed along his morning-roughened jaw. He gripped it tight to press an adoring kiss upon it.

  “Lovely morning,” he said.

  “It’s gray and looks like rain,” she muttered.

  “But it’s beautiful in here.” He wrapped her arm about his neck and shifted so they were face-to-face. His buoyant mood met a choppy sea of uncertainty.

  Was that regret he read in her big dark eyes? For what she’d said? Or how he’d responded?

  Or was it what he hadn’t said?

  Giles brushed a kiss over her soft lips. “I’ve fallen for you, too. So hard and fast, I can’t seem to remember the push.”

  Diamond-bright dampness filled her gaze, only to be quickly blinked away. Then he recognized what haunted her stare. It was resignation, sad and stoic.

  “Bree.”

  Her fingertips pressed to his mouth. “We’ll talk about this tonight, Giles. It’s late. I’ve got to get ready. You have to go.”

  Then why was she clutching at him with such sudden desperation?

  “Talk to me now, Bree.”

  She gave her head a denying shake, then tucked it beneath his chin. “Tonight.”

  Giles understood from that flat, fatalistic claim that whatever happened over the next twelve hours would determine his future happiness.

  He held her close in a gentle embrace while an inner voice cried out for him to grab on to her and not let her leave his arms. To not let whatever filled her with such dread and dismay separate them for even a second. If he let her go, there was every chance he would not get her back.

  Or he could trust her and let her handle what she needed to do alone.

  He rubbed his cheek against that tousle of brilliant curls and told her in soft compromise, “I’ll drive you.”

  Their arrival at Nica’s condo in New Orleans was greeted with some surprise. While Louella rushed inside to exclaim over the decor, Nica acknowledged Giles’s presence with an instant of disapproval. What Brigit’s brother felt was more carefully veiled as his gaze took in the significance of Brigit’s fingers closed about the human’s in a death grip.

  “Good morning.” Brigit smiled as if nothing were amiss. “I told Boyd to meet us here. He’s going to take Lou out to breakfast while we four take care of our business.”

  “We four?” Nica echoed.

  Brigit locked stares with her. “Yes. Giles is involved in this, too.”

  “And in a good deal more, I gather” was her brother’s cool observation.

  “Problem?” Giles asked with equal civility.

  Silas considered, then stepped aside to let them enter. “Not at the moment.”

  Further discussion was curtailed by Boyd St. Clair’s disheveled, bleary-eyed, and grumbling arrival. “Why does morning have to come so damned early?”

  “Enjoy your tour of the city’s finer entertainments?” Brigit asked, bussing his rough cheek with a kiss.

  His grin dazzled. “Be assured I did. Several times.” He, too, caught the significance of the entwined hands and gave Giles a friendly bump before shuffling down the long hall toward the smell of coffee. “Hey, little sis, pour me a cup. Better get a backup ready, too.”

  Giles carried Brigit’s hand up to his lips for a quick caress of her knuckles and was rewarded when her tension eased. That alone was worth bracing for her brother and his bride.

  Once Boyd was sufficiently caffeinated for Louella to drag him off toward the promise of breakfast at Café du Monde, the four of them took Giles’s vehicle in complete silence to meet with Jacques LaRoche and his mate outside Max’s room.

  Giles made the introductions to Brigit. He liked Susanna Duchamps, the doctor he, Charlotte, and Jacques had rescued in Chicago along with Max. He didn’t know much about Shifter politics but had quickly learned of the dangerous species divide between the Chosen of the North and the Shifters in the South. The Chosen didn’t have the ability to change form but used their mind-altering talents to bend the physically stronger Shifters to their unpleasant will. Both Jacques and Nica had been victims of their control.

  Susanna had been one of the Chosen’s most promising geneticists until she slipped from them to rejoin her long-ago love within the safety of the New Orleans clan. They shared a six-year-old daughter from their former relationship, which was renewed and stronger than ever.

  Susanna’s research had taken a new direction, toward the strengthening and reuniting of their species’ separate parts. She alone was familiar with the horrors perpetrated on Max Savoie as the Chosen had attempted to mine his thoughts and destroy them.

  The petite doctor took Brigit’s hand in a firm clasp. “I understand you’re a healer.” Professional curiosity brightened her gaze. “I’d love to sit down and talk to you sometime.”

  “Later this morning, if you have time,” Brigit offered, her knuckles whitening briefly before she released the other woman’s hand.

  Susanna nodded, then addressed them all. “As you know, we’ve had a frustrating lack of progress with Max. The memory erase and implantation was never completed, but I have no way to gauge how far they got with the process. He’s recognized Giles, so that’s promising.” She smiled up at the big human. “It shows the pathways haven’t been totally altered.”<
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  Giles glanced about in realization. “Where’s Charlotte?”

  Susanna looked uncomfortable. “We thought it best that she not be here.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Her presence agitates Max. Even though he doesn’t know her, he’s drawn to her on a primitive level.”

  “That’s because she’s his bonded mate and has every right to know what’s going on,” he challenged on Charlotte’s behalf.

  Susanna touched his arm gently. “She knows. It was her decision.”

  Giles sucked in a breath at the enormity of what that choice must have cost her. To know what they were about to attempt and volunteer to withdraw. The bravery. The self-sacrifice. The love. It overwhelmed him. Yet he could see himself making the same sacrifices for the female at his side. He stiffly nodded that he understood.

  “What we’re going to try to accomplish today,” Susanna continued, “is to identify what pathways are incomplete and to see if we can repair them so Max can access his stored memories.”

  “Has this been tried before?” Nica asked as her arm curled protectively about Silas’s waist. Giles shared her uneasiness.

  “No. There’s been no interest on the Chosen side to reestablish broken connections. And there’s never been a subject like Max before, so we really don’t know what to expect.”

  “Like Max?”

  Susanna smiled at Giles and explained, “Max has extraordinary genetics. Two pure lines through his father: Shifter and Chosen. Another pure lineage from his mother.”

  “I thought his mother was a purebred Shifter, too,” Jacques interrupted.

  “That’s not what the DNA is telling me.”

  “Then what was she?”

  “More,” was all she’d say. “Giles, I want you to go in first. If you can reach him and keep him calm, we’ll proceed.”

  “And if he’s not compliant?” Giles asked quietly.

  “Then we’ll sedate him. But it will be better if his mind is clear.” She opened the door to the observation portion of Max’s room. “He’s been much more alert and less combative, but I don’t need to tell you how strong and aggressive he can be.”

  Giles made an assenting noise. “No, you don’t.”

  Brigit’s hand tightened, holding him back. “So this could be dangerous, you going in there alone with him?”

  He gave her a smile. “Max won’t hurt me. I’ll be fine.” He hoped.

  Jacques squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t take any chances. I thought the same thing myself, and he nearly had me for a midnight snack.”

  As Brigit paled, Giles showed Jacques his teeth. “Thanks for sharing.”

  At Susanna’s insistence, Giles handed over the revolver he carried at the small of his back, the pistol from his ankle holster, and the long wicked blade from the inner seam of his coat. After a second thought, he took off his watch, with its recoiling length of piano wire built into the band. At Nica’s raised brows, he said mildly, “A man can’t be too careful.”

  “Neither can a woman,” she agreed.

  He handed Brigit his coat, his chest constricting at the way she crushed it to herself, and then stepped into Max’s sparse quarters in his shirtsleeves.

  Max regarded Giles from across the room, features tense, pale eyes sharp. The second the bolts shot home in the door behind him, and with a speed the eye couldn’t comprehend, Max was on him.

  Thrown back against the door with a force that stunned him, Giles drew a quick breath. He willed himself not to react with any trace of fear as Max pinned him there, clawed hands on either side of his head, hot breath on his neck, sharp teeth inches from ripping out his throat.

  “Max, it’s Giles.” He kept his voice low, steady, and warm with the affection he felt for his boss and friend. “We talked before. You asked to see me. Remember?”

  Quick puffs blew upon vulnerable bare skin as Max snuffled up his scent.

  “Giles?” A deep, gruff growl.

  “Yes. Giles. Your friend. You know me.”

  “Giles.” A softer, less threatening rumble. Slowly, the coiled strength gave way as Max leaned in to him. He touched his cold sweaty brow against Giles’s temple and whispered, “You came back.”

  “I told you I would.” He cupped the back of the dark head in one hand as he waved the other in a stand-down gesture to those observing in the other room. “I’m here to help you.”

  “To help me get out of here.”

  “That’s right. To help you get out of here. But first you need to go sit down, or they won’t let me stay. Can you do that?”

  Max lifted his head until he could meet Giles’s gaze. There was such terrible confusion in the turbulent green eyes. “Don’t go.”

  “That’s up to you. Sit down and we’ll talk. Like friends.”

  Max’s hand touched his face, the gesture tentative. “My friend.”

  “Always.”

  As Max stepped away and crossed to the single bunk bolted to the wall and floor, Giles exhaled in a shaky gust. Then he went to take a seat at his friend’s side to ask with a genuine concern, “How are you, Max?”

  “Locked in a cage. How do you think I am?” He expelled those words with a snarl. “My head is full of things I don’t understand, of names and faces I can’t fit together.”

  “I’m here to help you do that.”

  Shrewd eyes lifted. “How?”

  Slowly, Giles explained their plan. He watched Max’s expression closely, seeing suspicion, doubt, then the first sliver of hope. He concluded with one question. “Do you trust me, Max?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you believe I’d never do anything to harm you?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You hit me with a snowball and knocked me off a truck.”

  Giles blinked in surprise that Max had retained that, then laughed. “I did. I’ve got a damn fine arm.” Then his mood sobered. “I did that to protect you, to keep you safe. Do you believe me?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I want to believe you if you tell me you won’t harm anyone who comes into this room to help me help you. Tell me.”

  “If you stay.”

  “I will. I’ll be right here.” Giles motioned for the others to join them, never taking his attention from Max as the lethal body tensed. He gripped Max’s arm, bringing his gaze from the door to the intensity of the other man’s features. “If you act against them, I will never come back. Do you understand? You will stay locked in here alone until you rot. Is that clear?”

  Max swallowed and offered a gruff “Yes.”

  “We trust each other or everything goes to hell.”

  “We trust each other,” Max repeated.

  “Good.” He glanced up as Max began to draw back, holding on tight to keep him from retreating. “Max, this is Dr. Duchamps. Susanna. She’s Jacques’s mate. Do you remember Jacques? He’s your friend.”

  No response as Max regarded Susanna with a guarded stare.

  “This is Silas. He’s your friend, too. He’s going to help you reach your memories.”

  Max eyed him cautiously but let him come closer.

  “And this is Brigit. She’s Silas’s sister. And my mate.” Giles’s tone growled over that last. “So if you snap at her, you and I will be having more than words. Understood?”

  Brigit put out her hand with a fearlessness that had Giles’s insides shuddering in alarm. “Hello, Max. We’ve never met, but I must apologize to you for the actions of my former lover, Daniel Guedry. He was foolish enough to try to kill you. I truly regret any pain that caused you.”

  Max enfolded her hand in his, his penetrating stare fixing on hers. “Why are you here?”

  “Because Giles is worried about you. I’m a healer. I’ll try to help you if you’ll let me.”

  Max jerked as if an electrical current had passed between them. Giles tensed, ready to act, as Max drew her hand up to his face, but he only took up her scent, then rubbed his cheek against her knuckles with a quiet “Thank you.”
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  Max’s eyes glittered as they settled upon Nica. “Why are you here, assassin?”

  Of all things, that he remembered.

  “I have you to thank for my freedom, Max, and now I owe you yours.”

  “Are we friends, too?” He sounded doubtful.

  Nica laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far. We’re colleagues.” She grew serious. “We need you back, Max. We’re on the brink of a clan war. Your interests are in jeopardy. You need to be seen as strong and in control. That’s why we’re here.”

  She explained their intentions while Max listened, his expression unreadable. When she’d finished, he asked, “Will you strap me to a table and pump me full of poisons?”

  Nica placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “No. That’s not how we do things here. Are you willing to let us try?”

  “I’m willing to let you succeed.”

  Giles stood so Brigit could take his spot next to Max while Silas knelt in front of him. When Silas raised his hand, Max shrank from the contact, his eyes narrowed and wary.

  “Take my hand,” Silas coaxed, “and place it to your temple. Then close your eyes. You’ll hear my voice, then you’ll feel my thoughts. Okay?”

  Max did as he asked.

  “Breathe deep. Try not to think about ripping my face off if this doesn’t work. That’ll make me a helluva lot more comfortable.”

  Max chuckled at that, the taut line of his body losing its tension.

  “Okay. Brigit’s going to put her hand on your other temple. She’s got a nice soft touch.”

  Brigit shrugged Giles’s supportive hand from her shoulder, with a whisper that it would distract her. So he stood back and watched brother and sister work their magic, which for long minutes was like watching hair grow. He tried to take his cue from Nica, who was at ease with her mate’s involvement.

  Until the first few drops of crimson began to dot the front of Silas’s shirt.

  And things went to hell on an express elevator.