York

by Susan A Bliler

  Wincing, Sky rubbed at her temple and closed one eye hoping to ease the pressure building in her head. She needed to get to her motel, take some aspirin, pull the shades, and sleep off the pain.

  Hustling toward the seedier part of Quezon, she ignored the glances shot her way. After four months in the city, she’d grown accustomed to the stares, whispers, and pointing fingers. She didn’t blame anyone; she did stand out. At five foot five, she wasn’t particularly tall, but taller than the average local. Add to that her pale skin and shock of vibrant red hair and she was bound to draw some attention.

  Turning a corner, she eyed her motel longingly. She’d come to the think of her small budget room as home. Furnished with the most basic of amenities, her stay certainly wasn’t a vacation, but that wasn’t the intent. Sky’s twin sister, Shy, had gone missing. Their parents believed that Shy, a biology student, had taken an internship in the Philippines. It’s what the lab in Montana had fed the family, but Sky wasn’t buying it. No, she’d talked to her sister daily and when the calls suddenly stopped coming, and her own calls were ignored, Sky knew something was wrong. She’d confronted her parents only to have them accuse her of attempting to travel to the Philippines to sabotage Shy’s career. They’d always thought more highly of Shy than they had of Sky. She couldn’t blame them. Shy was a go-getter while Sky was the family fuck-up. She didn’t mean to be such a disappointment, but that’s just the way things always seemed to turn out.

  Straight out of high school, Shy had enrolled in college while Sky had decided to work for a while. She’d gotten a job as a bartender where she’d begun dating the bar owner. The relationship was great at first, but things quickly fell apart. Aaron became verbally and emotionally abusive. His failing business was somehow Sky’s fault, despite the fact that she’d worked for practically nothing and well-above forty hours a week. Hell, she’d even let her apartment go thinking that if she moved in with Aaron, they’d save money by only having one rent to pay. It wasn’t until four months into the relationship, and having endured the scuzziest apartment in existence, that Sky discovered Aaron hadn’t left her alone most nights because he’d been working double-shifts. No, the two-timing sleaze ball was working double relationships. He’d kept Sky on the side while he’d had a wife and two kids tucked in nice and cozy at home. Sky had been played a fool. When she’d confronted Aaron, he’d actually had the audacity to be angry with her. Then he’d tried to get physical. Sky despised an abusive man and refused to tolerate one. Unlike safe and practical Shy, Sky spent the better part of her youth in the local boxing club. Growing up a tomboy, she’d gone where the boys had gone and as luck would have it, the boys in her neighborhood flocked to the local gym. When Aaron had shoved Sky and accused of her of knowing about his wife all along, she’d lost it. He clearly hadn’t expected the straight left that she’d placed perfectly on his chin. It wasn’t called the sweet science for nothing. The hit was designed to crumple an opponent, and it had. Aaron was out cold before he even hit the ground. Sky had walked away and never looked back, but it didn’t mean she’d grown any more trusting of men. Unfortunately, things had only gotten worse where men were concerned, and now she didn’t trust a man any further than she could throw him.

  Stepping into the lobby of the Great Western Motel, Sky waved at the clerk behind the desk. As usual, he ignored her, and she made her way through the dimly lit lobby to the elevator. The place wasn’t nice by anyone’s standards, but it was a cheap home.

  Her first two weeks were spent in much nicer digs, but after she realized finding Shy was going to take more time than she’d originally planned, she’d had to lower her standards considerably. Her room at the Great Western was only twenty bucks a night, and for that kind of price, she’d gladly ignore the cockroaches and rarely working shower and sink.

  The elevator dinged on the sixth floor, and Sky pulled the key from her pocket, wondering why she even bothered locking her doors. The motel was practically vacant, and she couldn’t blame the tourists. The torn carpet, stained curtains, and moldy bathroom weren’t exactly inviting, but the biggest deterrent was the noise. The hotel faced Quezon Street, and Quezon was definitely a city that refused to sleep. The traffic was always bustling and afforded Sky little opportunity for sleep, which totally sucked at times like the present when her head was pounding and all she wanted was dark and quiet.

  Using her key, she had to jerk the handle up to get the door to open. Stumbling into her room, her relief at being “home” was short-lived. The AC had gone out again, and her sixth floor suite felt like a molten thousand degrees.

  Stalking to the small refrigerator near the bed, Sky jerked the door open and pulled out her lone can of Coke. It was hot. And just what else had she expected? The fridge hadn’t worked since she’d arrived and why she kept storing her food in the damn thing was lost on her. She couldn’t wait to get back to the States. Her first order of business—after celebrating with Shy—would be having an ice-cold sweet tea and homemade lasagna. There was nothing in the world Sky enjoyed more than piping hot, ooey-gooey lasagna with a crisp green salad and warm buttered rolls. She was a sucker for pasta and with her funds practically nonexistent; she had little to live on after she’d stashed away just enough to get two plane tickets back to America. Foregoing her favorite meal was the least of her worries. In fact, her belly growled angrily at its recent lack of nutrition. Two days, she thought ruefully. It’d been two days since she’d eaten anything, and the hot Coca-Cola only seemed to cause her belly to churn, making her wish she’d gone without.

  Crossing to the closet, she pulled the door open and yanked her duffel bag from the top shelf before unzipping and rifling through it to find the bottle of ibuprofen she’d purchased upon her arrival. A handful of ibuprofen chased down by hot Coke, and she headed toward the bathroom.

  “Please work, please work, please work!” she chanted as she crossed to the shower stall. What she imagined had once been immaculate white marble was now cracked, chipped and covered with yellowish stains. Twisting the knobs, Sky held her breath… “FRIGGIN’ SHOWER!” she cursed aloud. Another day in grime and filth.

  She quickly used the bathroom, washed her hands, and soaked a towel in the tepid water before rubbing it over her face and the back of her neck. Her head was begging to pound, and was growing fuzzy with the impending partial loss of vision that she knew was soon to come.

  Tossing the towel on the sink, Sky returned to the room, chugging the rest of her Coke, before crossing and opening the windows. Noise assailed her, but some of the stifling heat eased with the barely there breeze wafting in. Shrugging, she decided cool was better than quiet. She jerked the curtain closest to the bed closed and toed off her sneakers before flopping on the thin mattress, ignoring the spring that jabbed her in the ribs. Closing her eyes, she tried to relax but as usual, images of Shy in pain surfaced and had her squirming with guilt over surrendering her search over a migraine. Tears flooded her eyes, but she choked them back, Stay strong! Don’t fall apart on Shy now! Sucking in a deep breath, she exhaled it just as slowly and tried to ignore the way her clothes clung to the sweat that beaded on her body and the way her short tendrils of hair stuck to her sweat dampened cheeks and neck.

  Twenty minutes later, she’d fallen asleep to the cacophony of street traffic and her own muddled thoughts.

  Chapter 4

  York stood on the street amid the hustle and bustle of the city and was thankful that when the sun had finally dropped the temperature had followed suit. It wasn’t much, but he’d gladly take the current seventy-eight degrees over the earlier ninety-nine any day of the week.

  He lifted sea-green eyes to stare at the white building across the street. The words Great Western Motel were emblazoned on the façade between the sixth and seventh floors. He prayed his nose hadn’t let him down. Completely abandoning his mission to locate Shy’s sister, he’d followed Shy instead. Her scent had been hard to trace. It was her, but different. Perhaps the local cuisine
had altered her scent? Regardless, he had to find her. She’d been all-consuming before but now, knowing that she was his Angel, he refused to do anything else until he found her. He’d secure his mate, and then he’d complete his mission and find her sister.

  My mate! He smiled as he stepped off the curb to weave his way through traffic toward the motel. He’d waited a lifetime to be seized by the Walker affliction, and now that he had he refused to prolong his destiny as many of his Walker brethren were prone to do.

  The affliction, as it is named by Skin Walkers, is an instantaneous, animalistic attraction to their destined mate. Designed to force Walkers to recognize that a particular female holds significance to them, the Walker is instantaneously incapacitated at his recognition of his chosen Angel…afflicted. Triggered by his primal understanding that he has found his mate, a Walker will forego eating, drinking, and sleeping until the claiming is complete. A Walker’s preoccupation with claiming, mating, and binding his Angel with his halo is all consuming, an animalistic phenomenon designed to ensure that only the seed of the strongest and most virile of the male Walker species is passed on. Survival of the fittest.

  Walker men were even known to challenge other males who came in close proximity to their unclaimed mates.

  York was halfway across the street, when his feet slowed, then halted. The man Sky had attacked earlier appeared on the sidewalk in front of the motel, eyeing the building. A second—much larger—man appeared at his side.

  York bit back his growl and cursed under his breath as vehicles began honking incessantly at his hulking form as it blocked traffic.

  “Shit,” he muttered and stepped back just as a bus passed. He used the cover to race back across the street before turning to watch the men who were gathered outside Shy’s building. The wind picked up and as the men talked; his nose caught a familiar scent that had his hackles rising and a feral growl leaving his lips. Megalya! Were they after his Shy again?

  As if sensing him, the Megalya turned. The hulking form hidden in a dark trench coat looked out of place in the stifling heat of the archipelago. His bald head was a pasty white and practically glowed. The beast lifted hands tipped with pointed nails and removed its dark glasses. Fully black, beady eyes locked on York as the creature tilted its head to the side, curled back its upper lip and opened its mouth in a silent snarl revealing rows of shark like teeth.

  York’s hands curled into white-knuckled fists. KILL!

  The instinctual command was instantaneous. Skin Walkers had few natural enemies, but Megalya topped them all. Killers, the Megalya hunted Skin Walkers, decapitated them, and drained their blood in an attempt to glean Walker shifting abilities. A Walker’s halo—intended solely for his mate, his Angel, was taken by the Megalya and carried as a trophy.

  The Megalya snarling at York now, using his clawed hand to pull back the side of his coat, revealing the unmistakable glint of a half-dozen halos that dangled from the creature’s belt. Even from the distance that separated them, York could tell that the halos were small. The “trophies” the Megalya boasted were from women and children. Coward!

  York loosed a feral growl and took a step off the curb before the slight man beside the Megalya drew York’s attention. His hand snagged on the Megalya’s forearm, earning the man a sneer from the Megalya before he pointed to the building.

  Shy!

  Nothing was sweeter than vengeance, but York’s need to protect his mate kept him from seeking it. He stepped back into the thick foliage that lined the curb and squatted until he was swallowed by the thick growth. It took him only a moment to shift, and then he was flapping the wings of his Philippine Eagle form. He’d studied the animals of the land before traveling, knowing that if he’d need to shift, he’d better find a form that wouldn’t stand out.

  It took only seconds to clear the height of the building, and he did so unnoticed. He circled the rooftop, ensuring it was empty before he sailed low and shifted. His feet skidded on the graveled rooftop before sliding to a halt. He didn’t miss a beat as he stomped toward the lone door on the roof. He had to get to Shy. The appearance of the Megalya was no coincidence. They were hunting his mate, and York would die before he’d ever let them get their hands on her again.

  The roof top door was locked, but it merely slowed the Walker a fraction as he twisted hard, breaking the handle and using a knee to force the door in. The second he was inside, he partially shifted, letting his bear lead his nose. He needed to find Shy fast!

  He left the top floor and halted on the next one. His nostrils flared once before he picked up her scent. It was Shy, but …different. Not afforded the luxury of time, he opted to sort out her scent once he had the opportunity.

  Quickly, he followed the scent, and it brought him to a door. He listened, but heard nothing. He considered knocking then quickly discarded the idea. She’d understand the urgency once he explained the Megalya were here.

  One large hand gripped the door knob and twisted hard. He heard the ping of metal before he shoved his shoulder into the door, quietly forcing his way into the room. Stepping inside, he braced for Leto’s attack. Prepared to defend himself against his fellow Walker, he was disgusted at Leto’s absence. He must be gone to allow any male to get so close to Shy. Why is he absent?

  Stifling heat swamped York as well as the heightened scent of his mate. The sweet scent of her sweat mingled with the ocean air that wafted in through the window. One closed blind bathed half the room in darkness. It’s where he found his Shy, lying asleep on the bed in the dingy room. Anger was swift. She looked so small and defenseless lying on the bed. The fact that Leto was gone while Megalya were on their way up was more than infuriating. York had to curl his hands against the rage that infused him. He had to jerk his eyes from Shy to avoid growling at how vulnerable she looked.

  Two things struck York as he eyed the small room. One, Leto wasn’t simply gone; he’d never been here. His scent was completely absent. The Walker hadn’t been in the room at all; and two, the place was a dive by anyone’s standards. Why would Leto subject his Angel to such frugality?

  York shoved the thoughts aside as he crossed the room in a few short strides, his heart swelling with each step until he stood over his sleeping Angel. Silently, he admired her shorter hair and smiled at her outfit. She looked different than he remembered, but it was an improvement. This Shy seemed designed just for him. Tight, faded jeans clung to rounded hips. Her fuller chest was covered by a white tank-top, and York’s brows furrowed at the tattoo peeking out from the shirt that covered her left breast. Tattoo? It seemed odd for someone like Shy. She’d been so reserved, so…shy!

  Shy moaned and he jerked out of his admiration knowing the Megalya were near, which meant he and his Angel needed to move. His anger returned at the fact that, if he hadn’t accepted this mission, the Megalya downstairs would have been the one breaking into Shy’s room and standing over her while she slept. His gut twisted at the thought of his Angel even being in the same region as the Megalya.

  He turned, looking for Shy’s shoes and found them near the window. Quickly retrieving them, he stood over Shy and was untying one when a soft gasp had his eyes slashing to his mate. She was awake. Good!

  Chapter 5

  Sky’s eyes fluttered open with the odd sensation that she wasn’t alone. Blinking, her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light and her heart lurched in her chest at the sudden movement she spotted near the foot of the bed. She swallowed, but didn’t even get the chance to move before the large figure turned to loom over her. Big Red!

  She must have made a noise because his eyes jerked to hers before his brows slowly creased. . She was on her knees in a flash, rolling to the far side of the bed and jerking the lamp from where it sat on the nightstand, wielding it like a weapon. Her own brows furrowed in an angry scowl. “What are you doing in my friggin’ room?” she demanded harshly.

  Big Red dropped his hands, and his nostrils flared. “Shy?”

  She shook her head and hur
led the lamp at him. Her body twisted with the motion, and she was headed for the door when strong arms caught her, lifting her easily from the floor.

  Punching and kicking wildly, Sky growled, “Put me down, fucker!”

  “Shy, it’s me. It’s York!”

  York! What in the hell is that supposed to mean? And how in the hell does he know Shy? Still she thrashed but to no avail. Gripping the massive arm clamped around her, she threw her head back but Big Red was too good. He jerked his head out of the way at the last second and growled as her head connected with his shoulder instead of his face. “Stop fighting me!”

  Sky was tempted to scream, and he must have known because a large hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Don’t,” the word was a low growl that rumbled in the man’s chest.

  Chest heaving, and limbs exhausted, Sky quieted to take deep breaths through her nose as she eyed the room formulating a plan. If this asshole thought she’d just give in and let him rape her, he was in for one hell of a surprise. Taking one last deep breath, she opened her mouth wide and bit down on the hand covering her face. She’d expected Big Red to release her instantly, but even when she tasted the coppery tang of his blood, he continued to hold his hand clamped over her mouth as she struggled for freedom.

  The chest behind her rumbled deep and low and had her stilling with the feral intensity of the sound. It was animalistic and frightening. Shit! She’d hurt the behemoth and now had no means of escape. Worse, the vision in her left eye suddenly wavered. She hadn’t gotten enough sleep, and her migraine was back with a vengeance.

  As her eyesight lessened in one eye, her depth perception was thrown off, forcing Sky to clamp her left eye shut as she struggled to calm her breathing. She waited for her captor to declare his intentions. Rape, murder, was he the one who had Shy? She stilled, awaiting the declaration of her fate as she prayed her sight would recover fully.