“What are you going to do?” York didn’t answer, simply pinned her with a serious look that spoke volumes. “No! We can’t fight them! There are too many!”
He couldn’t help the pride that surged through him at her “we.” The fact that she was willing to stand beside him against the Megalya had his heart swelling, regardless of the fact that he had no intention of putting her in any danger.
Gripping her upper arms, he stepped back, forcing her to move. York pushed Sky into a small crevice between a dumpster and the brick wall, turning to eye their enemy. “Run Sky!” He growled keeping his eyes locked on the Megalya coming toward them.
“Y-York?”
The fear in Sky’s voice had him gnashing his teeth. No one would make his mate fearful. No one! Satisfied when Sky inched down out of sight, York smiled as he curled his large hands into white-knuckled fists and turned to stalk toward the oncoming Megalya. He was severely outnumbered and might not survive, but he was willing to give it all he had to ensure his Angel a chance at escape and hopefully make it back to her in one piece.
The four Megalya spread out, and then stopped advancing. The three on the outside turned their heads to eye the tallest one in the center. The one on the far left hissed, “Odium?”
Odium? York’s attention went to their leader, and he smiled. He’d kill this Odium first.
Odium nodded once, and the three other Megalya advanced. York partially shifted as quickly as he could. His hands contorted into the massive paws of a grizzly with four-inch long, thick, white-tipped claws. He also borrowed bulk, and his form shifted to add another four inches in height while his shoulders widened and his arms, legs, and torso beefed up with lean muscle. A partial shift was difficult to perform, and more difficult to maintain, but fear for Sky had adrenaline crashing through him in waves.
York licked at one incisor as it elongated and sharpened to a fine point. Two teeth on his bottom jaw also elongated and sharpened, and he let his features contort into a snarl as he growled at the advancing Megalya.
One of the Megalya lunged at him, and one massive swipe of York’s claws across the creature’s midsection had the Megalya dropping to his knees with a startled look as the wet sound of his intestines slipping free filled the deathly quiet alley before the Megalya slumped over dead.
It was all the incitement the other two needed. They attacked simultaneously.
York swiped at one, and missed. His body over-extended and bent over, his face taking the brunt of a punch that rattled him. He couldn’t right himself before the second Megalya swiped his hand through the air and caught York’s shoulder. Flesh tore, and the stinging sensation told York that the cuts were deep.
With York on his knees, the first Megalya reached for York’s halo with a sinister smile. York’s hand shot up and gripped the Megalya’s wrist. He ignored the jerk of his body as the second Megalya clawed at his back; instead, York kept his bear’s gaze locked on the Megalya as he tightened his grip. The Megalya’s eyes rounded, and so did his mouth as bone crushed under the weight of York’s grip. It was York’s turn to flash a sinister smile as the Megalya howled in pain, but York’s small victory was short-lived. He heard Sky scream, and it was the only warning he got before something hard collided with the side of his head, sending him sprawling to the side. His head swam, and his vision blurred even as claws sunk into his sides and sharp teeth bit into his shoulder. He fought unconsciousness as he saw a blurry vision of Sky jumping out from behind the dumpster. She was supposed to have run when the fighting started. Damn it!
Sky raced half the distance to him and stopped.
Good! York threw a punch over his shoulder, dislodging the Megalya, then he quickly struggled to get to his feet. A boot to his gut had him dropping back to the ground. Fur sprouted in odd patches along his arms and face, and he knew he was losing his partial shift. He shook his head again to clear some of the fuzziness and stilled when a large figure appeared directly behind Sky.
York blinked repeatedly, ignoring the two Megalya that circled him as he tried to focus on the one behind Sky. Something was off. The creature behind Sky didn’t look like Megalya. He was larger, with pale hair, and his eyes were locked on Sky.
York opened his mouth to warn her. Shit! He saw her rub at her temple and recognized the tell-tale sign. Her eye had gone out. She didn’t even see the man sneaking up behind her. “SKY!” he hissed, but York was too late.
Chapter 15
Sky spun with a gasp when a giant hand landed on her shoulder.
York growled and called on his inner beasts to renew him for the fight. He shoved up off the ground, and when one of the Megalya went to kick him, he caught the leg and rolled, taking the Megalya down as he felt the distinct pop of bone dislocating.
The Megalya howled and, to York’s disgust, his one-handed friend laughed a psychotic, hyena-like sound. Crazy bastards! They had no regard even for each other.
York reached for the still howling Megalya and locked his massive paws around the creature’s throat. He squeezed until life left the beast, causing the other Megalya to stagger back.
Getting to his feet, York took a step toward Sky, but was stopped by the one-handed Megalya, who jumped in his path. York snarled, knowing he needed to get to Sky. He dropped his gaze to the Megalya and was reaching for him when the beast was suddenly jerked backward. Thick arms wrapped around his neck and crushed inward. Black eyes bulged, and one lone gasp escaped before the arms around the Megalya ripped to the side. The snapping sound and sudden stillness of the Megalya confirmed his death.
Looking up, York’s ferocious gaze locked on the man before him. York didn’t speak. He knew the man, the creature, standing before him was something different. He wasn’t a man at all.
Inhaling slowly and deeply York tried to place the scent. It wasn’t a Skin Walker standing before him, nor was it Megalya. Once, York had gone to Ireland to meet with Monroe’s parents and while there he’d been introduced to the water-borne Silkies, but the man before him wasn’t of their descent either.
The man was large, almost as tall as York in his human form, but his eyes were so light they were practically clear, and his long hair was so fair that York couldn’t tell if it was the palest of blonde or pure white.
The man’s eyes darted over York’s shoulder, and he jerked his head to the side. York spun quickly and ducked simultaneously, unwilling to present the stranger with his back.
Odium, the only remaining Megalya, opened his mouth to flash sharp teeth at the duo, making the loud screeching sound that was the Megalya version of a growl.
York’s eyes sliced to the side as the pale-haired man stepped forward. He stepped in front of York, tilting his head as if in curiosity at the Megalya, but he didn’t appear to be afraid, which was unusual considering the display Odium was putting on.
York tensed when the pale haired man moved, but relaxed marginally when he realized he was advancing on Odium.
Slowly, York stood and backed up until his open palm caught on Sky’s arm. He shifted fully back to his human form; afraid he’d forget his strength and hurt his Sky. They watched as the pale man approached Odium. Before he could reach him, the Megalya spun and raced down the alley, leaving the pale man to turn and eye York questioningly.
York’s fingers tightened around Sky’s arm, and he pulled her to him then pushed her behind him. “What are you?” he growled fiercely.
The creature smiled. “I am Rohm.”
Whether it was the creature’s name York didn’t know, but one thing was for certain, he didn’t want the thing anywhere near his Sky. His shoulders hunched in preparation for battle as his large hands curled into tight fists. He turned his head to the side to speak over his shoulder to Sky but kept his eyes riveted on his enemy. “Get behind me!”
“I am not your enemy,” the creature spoke. “Rohm is my name. We don’t need to battle.” He raised a hand, palm side up and curled his fingers toward him. “Give me the female and leave us.”
Rohm’s clear eyes darkened dangerously as his brows speared down. He titled his head to the side as if just now taking the opportunity to size-up York. Rohm straightened his head, “She was.”
Before York could react, Rohm spread his arms wide, and an odd shimmering began in the center of his chest. It looked like an image being reflected off water that suddenly began to ripple. The center of Rohm’s chest lightened, and the white spot grew larger and larger before projecting out, the blurred edges of the light taking shape. Within mere seconds, an ominous looking, pure white polar bear stood growling down at York. The creature was large, larger than any polar bear York had ever seen.
The bear tilted his head to the side and roared. York didn’t hesitate. He shifted to his own bear form. While not nearly as large as Rohm’s, York’s mammoth grizzly had both man and beast stepping back.
“Zavier,” Rohm commanded. The large polar bear turned back to Rohm and leapt.
York thought the beast was attacking his master, but instead the bear shimmered back into Rohm’s chest as simply as if it had just dove into a pool of water.
Rohm’s curious expression locked on York, who was still in bear form. Taking a step closer Rohm asked in awe, “What kind of Keeper are you?”
York shifted. The golden fur receded, replaced with red hair as limbs elongated and clothes regenerated, wrapping over thickly corded arms and legs, until York was standing in human form. He lowered his head to frown at Rohm. “I am not a Keeper. I am a Skin Walker.”
“Skin Walker?” Rohm’s eyes danced with excited curiosity. “What is a Skin Walker?”
“What is a Keeper?” York challenged.
Rohm smiled, “Brother, we have much to teach each other.” Again, he lifted his hand and curled his fingers inward. “Come, I must take you to Fatal.”
York didn’t move. While he was damn curious about Rohm and whatever the hell a Keeper was, he wasn’t taking Sky anywhere near their kind, especially near anything called a ‘Fatal’.
As if understanding York’s concern, Rohm’s eyes darted from York to Sky. “Keep your female. I’ll find another.”
York was torn. He desperately wanted to follow Rohm and investigate these Keepers, but he didn’t want to take Sky. He couldn’t leave her either, not with the Megalya hunting her. He looked up to eye Rohm, knowing that if he walked away now he might never get the chance to encounter the creature again.
“York?” Sky curled her hands into the sleeve covering his forearm, drawing his gaze back to hers. “Don’t leave me here.”
The worry on her brow and slight quiver in her tone--that was so out of character for his Sky--had him stifling a growl of frustration. His eyes darted from Sky’s expectant gaze to the waiting Keeper. His angry eyes locked on Rohm, “She. Is. Mine!”
Rohm smiled and nodded, but York didn’t miss the flare of his nostrils. The Keeper was scenting Sky.
Looking down at his Angel, York hated the fear and uncertainty he read in the vibrant depths of her blue eyes. It wasn’t just a desire to protect her; it was a demanding need. “You are mine, Sky.”
Worriedly, she nodded as her eyes darted to Rohm and back. Whether she agreed out of fear of being taken, or because she recognized York’s claim, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter. She’d agreed! Not that her refusal of his claim would have made a difference. He wouldn’t leave her unprotected knowing she was being hunted by Megalya, and he couldn’t follow this Keeper without being certain that Rohm recognized his claim. He had only one option.
One hand clamped to Sky’s lower back as he jerked her to him. Reaching up, he gripped his halo and the hiss of burning flesh was audible. His throat was branded as the halo was removed, letting all Walkers know that he had gifted his halo to his Angel. When he turned the halo toward Sky, she tried to back up but his hand, clamped on the small of her back, prevented the action. Fear was evident in her eyes as York saw her gaze jerk to the welted brand on his throat, then back to the halo. It wouldn’t burn her as it had him. He shook his head.
Thrusting the halo forward, it locked into place. All around the world, every other Walker’s halo would flash briefly with an ethereal light, even as it sang its high-pitched whine, letting his kind know that one of them had claimed their Angel.
Sky’s eyes rounded, and her mouth formed a silent ‘O’ before her body went lax and she was rendered unconscious. It was a phenomenon that occurred when all Angels were claimed.
Physiological mutation began transforming his Angel instantly. For non-Walkers the ‘transition,’ as the Walkers referred to it, could last for days, often leaving the individual with cold-like symptoms for days after they finally woke from the claiming. It was the last illness any human mate would suffer. Skin Walkers didn’t suffer illness, and upon claiming, the gift was shared with their mate.
York smiled at the beautiful creature in his arms. MINE!
Hearing a dissatisfied rumble, he looked up in time to see Rohm’s nostrils flare as a scowl marred the Keeper’s features. It was clear that the Keeper could now scent York on Sky. She was taken!
“Bring your mate,” Rohm growled in displeasure. “I’ll take you to Fatal.”
“Fatal?” York swung Sky up into his arms.
“He commands all Keepers and our Soul Sentries.”
Soul Sentries? York knew he had a lot to learn, yet his worried gaze drifted to Sky.
Rohm’s tone softened. “I give you my vow that no harm will come to your mate. No Keeper will want her now that you have marked her. She will be safe among my kind. We’ll tend your wounds, and then you’ll meet Fatal.”
Satisfied, York looked up and nodded before following the Keeper silently, praying that it wasn’t a mistake, and that he wasn’t carrying his Angel into harm.
Chapter 16
Trepidation seeped through York as he carried his unconscious mate down the darkened stairwell Rohm had led him to near the back of a darkened alley. The Keeper’s den was similar to a Megalya hive. Strange that the two species would nest in a similar fashion.
As they descended, he questioned the logic of taking his Angel into the domain of an unknown species, but Rohm had helped him defeat the Megalya and that had to count for something. He hoped!
As inconspicuously as possible, York shifted Sky in his arms and reached over to his paracord combat bracelet. All members of his team wore them. They were the perfect façade for the tracking device nestled inside the clip. He pressed the button, activating the device. He wasn’t going to take any more chances. Once the device was activated back in Montana, Tyce and Monroe would both get the signal that a Walker needed assistance and the location of said Walker. The Skin Walker cavalry was on its way.
York was tense as the stairs led deeper and deeper. They descended until only a pinpoint of light shone from the entryway above.
“Come,” Rohm growled as he turned down a darkened corridor.
Partially shifting to bear form, York kept his hold on Sky gentle as he inhaled great lungs-full of air, sifting through the scents. He scented Rohm, and…many more like him. He lifted Sky a little higher, thankful that he’d at least gifted her with his halo. Now, she bore his scent, and if these Keepers were anything like Walkers, it’d be enough to discourage any male interest. But it wasn’t a complete claiming. Yes, he’d had the gift of her body before gifting her with his halo, but it wouldn’t be complete until he’d claimed her, body and soul, now that she was wearing his band. She slightly scented of him now, but once he made love to her while she wore his halo, his very essence would be imprinted on her. There’d be no mistaking who she belonged to.
Roh
m drew to a halt in an empty room that reminded York of a dingy cellar. It even smelled like moist stone.
To his left, the darkness swirled, and he partially shifted once more, now using his lion’s eyes. A figure was there. A man. Several other shadows drew forth, and he breathed in the scent of many males mixed with the scent of varying animals.
One figure stepped forward. His predatory grace was similar to that of a Walker and surprisingly, his eyes were a near-perfect match for York’s own. That’s where the similarities ended. Straight black hair hung loose to the Keeper’s waist. Deeply tanned skin was taut over high cheek bones. He almost looked like RedKnife…of Native American ancestry.
“Fatal,” Rohm addressed him. “This is a Skin Walker.”
Fatal stopped and eyed York and the burden in the Walker’s arms. “What is a Skin Walker?”
“Similar to us,” Rohm answered for York, “but they become a Soul Sentry.”
The information drew more Keepers from the darkness. The men stood at similar heights, close to York’s 6’6”, but their coloring was all different. Some were dark with jet hair, while others were shades as pale as Rohm.
“Show me,” Fatal commanded.
York eyed his unconscious Angel. He couldn’t shift while holding her.
“I’ll take her,” Rohm stepped forward.
“NO!” York jerked to the side to stop the Keeper from touching his Angel.
“Interesting,” Fatal smirked. “They do not share well.”
York eyed the ruling Keeper. “No. We do not share at all!”
Fatal’s smirk vanished as he asked directly, “What are you?”
“I’m a Skin Walker,” York stood straighter. “We are shape shifters.”
“Werewolves?”
“No.” He shook his head once. “We can take many forms.”
“Why are you in my land?”
“I came for her,” York’s eyes dipped to Sky. “She is my mate.”
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