She didn’t utter a sound. The man liked to pause.
“There comes a time when I reduce you all to simply surviving.” He picked at a nail. “You’d do anything, anything if you thought there was a hope of getting away.”
Her heart thundered against her ears and she realized she was playing into his hands. Doing exactly what he wanted her to. Become afraid, see him as the controller, the monster, the giver and taker.
She concentrated on calming her breaths. She’d need her energy to defeat him, not let him sap her by baiting her emotions.
For the first time she realized an amulet hung from around her neck. It wasn’t hers. She didn’t look at him. She reached up and ripped it off.
“While you’re meditating, you should know that I won’t let you go. I never let any of my treasures go. They’re all mine. Permanently. For me to play with, admire…pet.”
She glared at him, this time she let her mind open, let her power flow over and through her.
She didn’t shift very often. Too many feared and revered what she was. A legend of great wealth and destruction.
His eyes widened, and he panted.
She stared at him and chanted words she’d learned as a child at the monastery, of protection, of guidance, of courage.
This time, she felt the pain of shifting, of her bones realigning, of her sight changing, becoming sharper and clearer.
She flapped her wings, the spread too large for the cage.
Wind arose and stirred the air, the dust from the floor.
He smiled and stepped back, clapping.
Fire leapt from his right to his left, circling, closing in.
It’s my turn, you bastard, she thought.
“Cyzarine,” Saker shouted in her mind. “Wait for me, damn it. You wait.”
“No. I waited for you before. I won’t ever again.” Even as she thought it, she wanted to pull it back. She wanted him here. Needed him here.
With that she let loose all the power she normally kept contained, normally didn’t call forth.
Fire burst up in every direction, except the inside of the cage. The heat was fierce.
Still she heard his laughter, his damn clapping. “More! More! Yes!”
She stopped and took a deep breath.
“That was just lovely. Do it again,” he whispered right beside her.
She whirled, thinking he was inside the cage, but found him still standing on the other side of the cage.
As if reading her mind, he said, “I could get inside if I wanted to.” He smiled. “But I don’t want to, not yet. Not yet, pretty, pretty Cyzarine. I do things in my own time, otherwise it ruins the entire experience.” He took a deep breath. “God, I don’t know if you’re more beautiful as a woman taking on her enemies or as a firebird. Look at your feathers…”
She shivered, drained. Oh hell. What was she going to do?
“Fine. Maybe I do need you,” she thought, swallowing her pride.
Her feathers all but glowed. It was as if they themselves were shifting flames. Reds, golds, bright hot blues… Shifted and shimmered on wings of gold.
She tilted her head and looked at him. She was perched atop the table he’d set to one side, not too close to the edge of the cage.
There was also a swing hanging from the top center of the cage. He wondered if she’d use it.
“You just wasted so much power. Power that you can’t replenish in a cage, can you?” He leaned in through the bars and blew her a kiss. Then he pressed the button again and let all the lights flood the room.
She turned her head, the gold plumes atop softly shifting with her movements. He watched her. Those golden eyes taking in what she saw…
The statues.
“My treasures,” he said and walked to the nearest one, running a hand down the spiked spine of the werewolf. He loved that he’d ended her as her hackles had risen. “Isn’t she beautiful? Her name is Coral. I found her in Ireland. Working in a dreary pub, singing with a ceili band.” He brushed his hand over the head, the mouth open in a golden snarl. “Now she’s mine. Mine to keep. She’s one of my favorites.”
He looked back at the firebird. A real, live firebird.
“I wonder how many have ever actually seen you?” He walked closer to the cage. “Such passion, heat and darkness.” He bent over and thought he heard a screech from outside the window. He picked up the golden down shed when she’d shifted. He glanced to the window and then turned back to her. He ran the feather beneath his nose and sniffed, smelled the acrid scent of smoke, but also one of her. “Do your feathers really bring luck?” He ran the feather over his mouth. “I think I’ll have to make you shift back into a human. I want to play with the discarded feather. With you. See what excites you.”
Already blood flowed hot and thick through his veins, swirled down his spine and tightened his gut, flooding his groin.
The window crashed open. Shrill cries screeched across the freezing blast of air.
He whirled, ready to face the enemy. But even as he threw up his own shield and tried to transport himself into the cage, he knew something was wrong.
He couldn’t…
His hands felt heavy.
What…
He only had a moment before birds, larger than the firebird, bulleted into the room, shrieks and cries filling the air.
“No!” Again, he tried to shield with a binding curse, a blocking spell, but nothing happened.
The familiar tingle didn’t flow through his hands.
The birds all screeched around him.
From the cage, the firebird called long and sad, pleading, yet anger laced the sound.
Kladovik turned to look at her, holding the feather.
Wings flapped before him and he raised an arm to ward off the birds, but the talons still sank into his skin. The bones of his arm broke, and the skin on his face ripped, before pain pierced his eyes and he saw nothing.
He screamed.
His treasures.
Firebirds…luck…
Heat engulfed him, as the talons crushed his chest.
Then he felt nothing at all.
Chapter 13
Reen stood in her shower as the hot water washed away the nightmare of the last several hours.
It could have been worse, she knew that. Knew it with every fiber of her being. But still evil chilled her blood, scraped her nerves raw.
Oleana and three other shifters were in the hospital. Oleana had been moved from Intensive Care to a regular room.
One, a cougar, had been released after a round of antibiotics. The other two, a lioness and lynx, were still unconscious. The lynx probably wouldn’t make it. They had no idea who those two women were.
She knew they’d matched and would continue to match the statues with missing women that went years back from all over the globe. The most recent being the gilded form a cheetah. Forensics matched the cat to a missing woman from Nairobi.
So many families would finally find peace, even as the hope was taken away. Families Kladovik ripped apart because he wanted more.
Because he was greedy.
Simply because he wanted and could and did.
She sat on the tiled floor, the tiles warm as the hot water beat down on her. Her arms were bruised, the wrists abraded and purple where they’d been bound. The bindings had popped when she shifted. As had the shoulder that she’d hurt on her previous assignment.
She was now officially on leave.
Water poured over her and dripped off her nose. She was tired. Tired of everything.
And scared.
She didn’t want a commitment from or to anyone.
But damn if she wasn’t tired of being alone.
Alone.
She sighed and leaned her head back.
Saker. He’d killed Kladovik, simply came through the window, ripped the man’s eyes out and then crushed him with his talons. Wicked talons.
She couldn’t push it all aside anymore. Everything seemed to shut dow
n with the blackness of death and violence.
Blood…
The room had been filled with the scent of blood, with the scent of fire.
Kladovik had been right. She hadn’t had the energy to shift back. The power to shift had drained her. She remembered seeing the body drop, seeing the flames getting closer to the body. Saker had shifted from a falcon to himself and grabbed the small golden feather from Kladovik’s bloody hand. “That’s mine.”
That’s mine…
She remembered that. Vaguely remembered her body being lifted, the cold air rushing against her face and body as if she’d been flown through the air.
Like she had as a child.
But this time, he’d come. This time, it had been him.
What did it mean? She had no idea and she was too tired to think about it all. She just wanted some sleep.
One thing that wouldn’t leave her alone. For just a moment, just a second after they’d mated, and again when he’d carried her through the air, before she’d lost consciousness—she’d felt a sort of peace like she hadn’t since that fateful day long ago.
Peace…
Or maybe it was simply hope.
Hope.
He slipped through her door, surprised and pissed it was so easy to get to her. He’d stationed one of his men below on the stairs, another on the roof. No one was getting to her tonight.
No one, but him.
He could hear the shower running.
For a moment, he stopped.
Her apartment was a reflection of the woman. The furniture was simple and functional. Nothing flashy or expensive. The electronic surveillance equipment on the table was top of the line. The walls were bare. No television. He rounded the corner. No holiday or celebration decorations. Nothing.
The wooden floors echoed faintly with his steps.
Her room was as neat and tidy as a long-standing member of the military. Her bed covers tight and tucked.
He grinned and wondered if she was ever relaxed, ever messy?
Her closet door was shut, all the drawers of her chest closed.
There didn’t seem to be a single line of dust anywhere.
He wanted to learn more about her. Learn who she was. Learn what she liked and didn’t.
Saker cursed himself for his own stupidity, but the past couldn’t be changed. He had no idea what the hell the future would hold for them, but he wanted to find out.
Saker stripped and silently let himself into the bathroom.
Steam rose around the door of the shower, filled the top of the room and fogged the mirror.
He stood just outside the door for a moment.
“Reen?”
A huddled form on the floor shifted, stood and whirled, kicking out the door.
He barely sidestepped it before it crashed into him. Instead he caught it and stood staring at her as she glared at him.
Her black, chin length hair was plastered to her face. Her body was wet and glistening, the scars and bruises standing out on her pale skin. He slowly raised his gaze to lock with hers, taking in every wet and dripping inch of her.
She didn’t relax her stance. “I didn’t invite you here.” Her voice was low, throaty…tired.
He simply stepped in, crowded her back and shut the door behind him. Looking down at her, he brushed wet strands of hair behind her ears. “No, you didn’t,” he whispered.
She licked her lips and he caught the darkness shift in her eyes.
“What?” he asked, tilting her chin up. “Tell me.”
She shook her head. “I don’t care what you think of me,” she muttered.
He raised a brow and leaned into her. “I’ve watched you for months, Cyzarine. Since that first assignment we were on together. You didn’t even notice me. But I sure as hell noticed you.”
She drew a deep breath even as she leaned back against the wall.
He ran a thumb back and forth over her lip, then down her chin. He followed her neck to trail a finger over her collar bone. “I’m sorry about the stage,” he said, risking a glance back up into her.
She watched him. “Are you?”
He trailed a path lower to circle her wet breasts. “The way it happened, the timing, yes. But we would have made love sooner or later.”
“That was sooner?” she asked, shifting closer to him, wrapping her arm around his neck.
Her tongue was hot against his neck. She pulled his earlobe between her teeth and he shivered.
He gripped her hips. “This is later. And I want to go slow…”
He hissed when her other hand reached between them and wrapped around his arousal.
“I don’t want to go slow now. Slow is for later.”
He turned and met her mouth. “I thought this was later.”
Her lips tilted up. “That’s for later later. This is for now later. I want hard, hot and fast. Like before.”
She wrapped a leg around his waist. “I still hear him in my head, still see him.” She kissed him, open mouthed and demanding. “Make me forget. On the stage, all I felt, all I saw, all I heard was you.”
“You’re mine,” he said, lifting her. She shifted, slid down on him and locked her ankles in the small of his back.
Saker hissed.
She didn’t answer him. He wondered if she ever would.
Her gaze locked with his and in them he saw…
Hope.
He rocked against her, slow and long. She might want it now, but they’d damn well do it his way.
“I’m going to make love to you over and over again, Cyzarine,” he told her, holding her on him so she couldn’t shift. “All you’ll see,” he said, thrusting into her, “will be me.” Stroke. “All you’ll hear will be my voice.” Thrust. “All you’ll feel is me.”
She arched against him and moaned. “Saker.”
Damn stubborn woman.
The future with her wouldn’t be dull, that was for sure.
He slammed home, playing her until they both flew, their orgasms ripping cries from both of them.
At least he believed there was hope.
He smiled as he lowered his mouth to hers. “You’re mine whether you claim it or not.”
He stared into her eyes.
“We’ll see. I am my own.”
The End
About Jaycee Clark
Jaycee is a NY Times & USA Today bestselling author of romantic suspense. She's the author of the #1 Amazon Deadly Series Boxed Set. When she's not writing, she spends time with her family, enjoys snow skiing and just getting outside.
www.jayceeclark.com
Up On the Housetop by Suzanne Rock
About Up On the Housetop
Book One of the Kyron Pack
Desperate to escape her controlling family, Chloe Bradford scrambles up to the housetop of her Texas home on Christmas Eve. There she discovers a sexy stranger cloaked in shadow. He convinces her to shed her good-girl image and give into her most secret desires. When he tries to leave, she follows him, eager to learn his identity.
Zach can’t stop thinking about Chloe, or their reunion on the roof. His wolf-half urges him to reveal his identity and claim her, but he doesn’t dare. For both their sakes, he must remain in the shadows until he can control his inner beast’s bursts of rage. After five years he thought he could handle his curse, but Chloe’s presence causes his control to slip. As the moon-rages become more frequent, he knows he’s slipping toward the insanity that claims many of his kind. Only Chloe can save him, but will she want to after he reveals his identity and the reason he broke her heart so many years ago?
Chapter 1
This time her father had gone too far.
Chloe Bradford threw open the window, grabbed the open bottle of Cristal, and walked out onto her third-floor bedroom balcony. After a few minutes of pitiful acrobatics and a long string of curses, she managed to pull herself up onto the roof. For some reason, the climb had seemed much easier when she was sixteen.
“Damn, my glass
.” Chloe carefully placed the bottle down and climbed back into her bedroom.
“Where did it go?” She scanned the pink and white room in disgust. Chloe had loved the color scheme back when her mother had picked it out. Then again, she'd been only eight at the time. Now, at thirty-two, it made her think of a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. When she'd gone off to college, she thought she'd never see this place again. She'd been wrong. Funny how some things come full circle.
Frowning, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. No glass. Maybe she left it downstairs. Too bad. She'd much rather drink from the bottle than go back down there and subject herself to that humiliation again. It was a “drink from the bottle” type of night, anyway.
She shimmied back out to her champagne on the roof. The Spanish-style mansion was like a lot of the other houses in the area. The roof was very flat and a nightmare during times of rain, but it was perfect for a teenager or two to get away from their parents for a few hours.
Or for a middle-aged woman to hide from a marriage proposal.
Chloe took a seat and placed her almost-full bottle next to her. It had been a long time since she'd come out here to wish on the stars and dream of her future.
Now she just wanted to escape it.
She sighed and held up the bottle of Cristal to the full moon hanging low in the sky. She wasn't much of a drinker and wasn't exactly a fan of champagne, but desperate times called for desperate measures. After the huge fight, she just wanted to get out of there. She had grabbed the closest bottle and left her parents and boyfriend gaping in the dining room below.
She brought the champagne to her lips. The bubbly liquid tickled her throat as she gulped it down. What happened to her life?
Alphas for the Holidays Page 177
