by Hazel Hunter
“Gillian, someone was hunting us. People don’t use air-to-ground missiles as pranks. Whoever it was, and I’m willing to bet that it was Templars, they wanted us down.”
Gillian felt a chill creep over her. She had heard of Templars, but a part of her had never quite believed in them. The idea that there was a sect out there dedicated to eradicating all Wiccans on the planet was terrifying. The idea that she would be a target just by virtue of her birth made her feel ill.
“What are they looking for, Gillian?”
She looked up, surprised to find Shayne staring at her. The affable demeanor was gone. In its place a dark, brooding scowl creased his forehead. His jaw muscles worked silently but constantly. His different colored eyes seem to look inside her, their intensity like heat in her core. The steel insignia on his shirt glinted. Instead of her capable traveling companion, the man in front of her was every inch the Magus Corps colonel. His remorseless gaze said he was seeing her differently too.
“What are they looking for, Gillian?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“If there’s something that could make you a target for Templars, I need to know, and I need to know right now.”
He stalked towards her, eyes shadowed under furrowed brows, his mouth a grim line. His broad shoulders and chest were positively enormous. Without thinking, she backed up, until she hit a tree. She stared up at him wide-eyed.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Please. I don’t have any idea.”
For what felt like an eternity, he glared down at her. Then he seemed to wake up. He shook his head a little.
“All right,” he said, his voice tight. “I’m sorry. I should have believed you the first time you said it. I guess bailing out of a plane has me on edge. I’m sorry.”
When he stepped back, Gillian relaxed, but in moments it was more than that. The stress of the last few minutes rose like a tide. It released in a torrent of silent tears. She clasped her hands over her mouth and slumped to her knees.
Shayne had been turning away, but spun back with a look of dismay.
“Gillian?”
It was the first time he had said her name. Max crawled out of her pocket and nosed against her hip. Vlasti had found them, settling on a branch and watching them carefully. Shayne got to his knees next to her. He moved to wrap his arms around her, but stopped himself at the last moment.
“Gillian, what can I do for you?”
For a moment, she was crying too hard to make the words come out. When she did, they were ragged.
“Just… Can I just lean on you? Don’t put your arms around me. Don’t…try to hold me.”
If he thought that her requests were strange, he didn’t say so. Instead, he simply did as she said, waiting. When she leaned against him, his bulk was immediately comforting, stable and secure. Finally the crying stopped, and she wiped her eyes and looked up. The blue and brown eyes looked back and forth between hers. She knew she must look a fright, but that was the least of her worries.
“I’m all right,” she said, separating from him. She guided Max back into her pocket. But when Shayne didn’t move, she looked directly at him and took a deep breath. “Really, Shayne. I’m all right. What do we do now?”
He took a few moments to continue studying her, but finally nodded.
“We start marching,” he replied, helping her to her feet. “Whoever shot us out of the sky is going to be looking for us. We should put as much distance between ourselves and this site as soon as we can.”
He picked up the parachute, and she took her backpack. They walked in silence for a while. In the beginning, the fall day felt endless, but soon enough, the shadows began to lengthen.
“If we keep to a downhill course,” he said, “we’ll eventually come to water, but it might take a while. There’s a primitive water filter in the parachute’s survival kit, but the sooner we can find civilization the better. We’ll do that by following the water.”
As he’d predicted, they came to a river first. The water looked perfectly clear to Gillian, but Shayne insisted on running it through the water filter and into an attached, screw-on cup.
“Bet they didn’t have water filters a thousand years ago,” Gillian muttered as he passed her the cup. “You managed to survive.”
Shayne grinned at her as she took a drink. The water was sweet and cool.
“No, they didn’t, but they had plenty of dysentery to make up for it.”
She coughed a little and sputtered. “All right, point taken.”
He finished the remaining water and, as he tucked the unit away, he surveyed the surroundings.
“I think we’ll make camp here,” he said. “Near the water. We won’t get much further with the remaining light.”
Gillian checked the sky and wondered what time it could possibly be. But no matter what time it was, stopping sounded good.
Shayne pulled out the parachute silk, untangling it as he headed to the nearest tree. He cast it over a low branch, spread it as wide as he could, then weighed the edges down with rocks. He covered the light nylon with fallen pine boughs and piles of needles. Soon enough, it was impossible to tell that there was a little tent there unless you were looking for it.
By that time, the sun was setting in earnest. Gillian had started to shiver. She and Shayne gathered up more pine boughs to cushion themselves from the ground. When she asked about a fire, however, Shayne shook his head.
“We can’t have a campfire. There’s too much chance that someone’s going to come looking for us. A fire will draw them like a beacon.”
Gillian bit her lip, rubbing her arms against the chill. If the mountain night got as cold as she feared, Templars would become a secondary worry.
By the time they finished the shelter, the sun still lit the sky but was no longer visible. They split a protein bar from the kit, chewing in silence as the shadows got longer.
“Shall we lie down?” he asked.
Gillian looked at Shayne and realized he was actually waiting for an answer. He wasn’t just assuming they’d be together. He remembered what had happened when they’d landed.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Let’s do that.”
She crawled into the tent first, though her dress made it awkward. She went as far as the slope of the tent allowed and laid down on her side, facing the entrance. The springy pine boughs were better than sleeping on the ground, but just barely.
Shayne climbed in behind her and lay down facing her.
Night had fallen, and though there was still a dim light outside, it was fading by the moment––as was any warmth.
“Can you hold me?” she whispered.
She didn’t know what Shayne would do after she had been so stand-offish before. He only nodded.
“Of course.”
As naturally as if they had done it all their lives, he draped one arm over her hip, drawing her close. Now they were nearly nose to nose. She sighed as she felt the heat of their bodies come together. In the middle of the wilderness, even with the possibility of Templars being on their trail, she felt safe. She had almost drifted off to sleep, when she heard a strange hissing. She opened her eyes just in time to see an orange spark flicker to life. In shock, she tried to sit up, only to have Shayne soothe her with a gentle touch to her arm.
“We can’t light a fire because I think it would draw attention,” he explained. “But I think in here this will be fine.”
She watched in fascination as he lit sparks that danced in a circle above their heads. They glowed with a soft orange light. The heat that they gave off was slight but welcome. The beauty that they created calmed her. She watched the little lights dance back and forth, weaving patterns around each other. She smiled to see the sparks hopscotch and leapfrog over each other, some of them winking out and others lighting up in their place.
“Shayne,” she said sleepily. “Are you trying to show off for me?”
His chuckle was warm and sweet.
“Of course
I am, Granger,”
“Why?”
“Because you are beautiful.”
That was ridiculous. She would have said so, but the events of the day had been too much for her. She dropped off to sleep, the orange sparks leaving vivid lights dancing behind her eyelids.
CHAPTER FOUR
GILLIAN WASN’T SURE that she had ever been so wonderfully warm. She had lived in Los Angeles most of her life. Even in that coastal city, nights could be chilly. But she was warm now, and she knew exactly why that was. She was tucked under Shayne’s arm, her head resting on his shoulder. Lying on his back, he was breathing lightly. In all her life she had never found it so easy to be close to someone. They’d settled into this position almost immediately.
Carefully, she looked up to see his closed eyes. He had beautiful eyelashes, long enough to make a girl jealous. When it wasn’t quirked with humor or confusion, his mouth was soft and sweet. It looked like a mouth made for kissing.
Without any hesitation, she leaned over and did just that. He seemed to go from sleep to waking without hesitation. One moment, he was stretched out on the bed of boughs. The next, he had a gentle hand looped around the back of her neck, bringing her close. He was kissing her the precise way that she had always dreamed about being kissed.
“I’ve wanted this from the moment I saw you,” Gillian whispered. “Just this and only with you.” The sound he made was half-groan, half-laugh. “I knew from the moment I set eyes on you we would end like this.”
Without a single care in the world, she rolled over on top of his body. She felt the six-pack of his abdomen and the strength of his arms as he reached up to hold her. But she could also feel more than that. She could feel his cock between their bodies, growing harder with every press of her body.
“I want you,” she murmured. “I want you more than anything.”
He smiled up at her, his eyes dilated wide. His mouth moved, but for some reason, she couldn’t hear him.
“What? What are you saying?” He whispered the words again. Gillian frowned. “I can’t hear you, not at all.”
He scowled. Hurriedly, she bent forward, trying to place her ear next to his mouth, but then she over-balanced, tumbling to one side.
When she sat up, face hot and cursing her clumsiness, she woke up with a jolt. Instead of a warm lover, she woke up to a poor bed of pine boughs. Gillian groaned softly, realizing she was alone. She slumped back down, bruising her hip on a patch of bare ground.
She might try to deny it, but her attraction to Shayne was something she couldn’t escape. She hadn’t ever had a dream like the one she had just awakened from. Nor had she ever been that turned on in her life, the ache between her legs only now fading. When she was a young girl, men were terrifying. After she had come to the Wiccan world, her research had fed and sustained her. Men hadn’t been a part of that.
Until now.
She tugged at her leather gloves nervously. She usually didn’t sleep in them unless she was having an especially bad night. Right now, they provided an extra layer of security that she was loathe to give up.
Outside the makeshift tent, she could hear the splashing of the river, but it seemed like there was something more than that. Cautiously, she peeked beyond the opening of the tent.
It was barely dawn. The light in the forest was more purple than blue. There were still deep shadows where the sun didn’t penetrate. The only exception was the sparkling water of the narrow river. That was where Shayne stood.
He had stripped down to his trousers, and they were rolled up to his knees. In the violet dawn light, she could see the perfect muscles of his chest outlined in incredible detail as he balanced a sharpened pole lightly in one hand. There was a kind of gorgeous tension to his body. Every fiber of his being was intent on stillness and silence. She fell into a reverie as she watched him. His stillness made her still. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so quiet. She wasn’t thinking about Tenebris. She wasn’t thinking about anything at all beyond Shayne’s beauty and grace.
He struck with a speed that was frightening. One moment he was as still as a statue. The next, he moved like his falcon familiar. His entire body was concentrated in the one motion. The shaft flew straight and true into the water, making Gillian stifle a yelp. When he tilted the spear back up, there was a big silver fish flailing on the end of it.
Shayne turned towards her with a smile. She realized that he had been aware of her watching the entire time.
“Good morning, Granger. I caught breakfast.”
She crawled out of the tent and stood, a bit stiff. There were already coals smoldering in a shallow, stone pit close by. Gillian had never thought much about fish for breakfast, but it had been nearly twenty four hours since she had last eaten a real meal. She watched as Shayne cut away two large orange fillets from the fish’s sides. He threw them over a lattice of branches to cook with the silver skin still attached.
“Looks like the Atlantic salmon are running late this year,” he remarked. “Lucky for us. If I had my way, someone would pick us up shortly. If they don’t, however, we’re not going to starve.”
He made to throw away the rest of the fish, but then he stopped. Gillian couldn’t see what he was doing with his knife, but then he pulled away a sack of what looked like tiny orange marbles.
“Well, that’s just another piece of luck,” he said, holding up his find.
They were smaller than the nail on her finger, but perfectly round. Now that the sun was coming up, she could see how translucent the little spheres were, and how each had a tiny darker spot at the center.
“Are those…salmon eggs?” she asked hesitantly.
“Or you could call it roe, and they call it caviar when they sell it in the fancy grocery stores,” he said with a grin. “But you can’t get salmon eggs this fresh unless you’re exactly where we are right now.”
To Gillian’s surprise, he detached some of the eggs from the sack, and popped them into his mouth with enjoyment. She eyed it warily when he offered it to her.
“Um, weren’t you just telling me about dysentery yesterday?”
Shayne’s grin was unrepentant.
“If everyone was smart about food, no one would ever eat sushi outside of Japan. Live a little. It’s good. I promise. Here.”
He pulled a few of the eggs away, and offered it to her on his fingers. She glanced at her gloves and imagined the smell of fish on them. Even so, she surprised herself when she leaned down and licked them up. With a quick, kittenish gesture, she lapped up the orange eggs. For a moment, she held them in her mouth. Then they burst with a deliciously rich, salty flavor, making her swallow reflexively.
“It’s good,” she said, unable to keep the surprise out of her tone. Shayne laughed at her.
“I generally don’t try to trick my charges into bad food choices,” he said lightly.
He pulled away a few more eggs, offering them to her again. This time, there was a faint challenge to the way he did it. She could barely believe she had used her mouth before. He clearly didn’t think she would do it again. Something about that thought stiffened her spine. She had known exactly what she was doing.
Almost defiantly, she bent her head to his hand again. This time, she let her lips linger over the skin of his palm. Her tongue lapped lightly up his fingers. But as she took the eggs into her mouth, she sucked momentarily on the tip of one finger. She was sure she felt him shiver. When she finished, she swallowed and looked up at him.
“It’s very rich,” Gillian said softly.
Shayne had to swallow twice before he could speak again.
“We can finish off the rest with the salmon. I think it’s done now.”
The kit with the parachute apparently hadn’t had forks in it. He handed her the knife, while he used his fingers. The slightly charred salmon was piping hot and delicious. Gillian surprised herself by eating nearly all of her fillet. Finally though, she was full and offered the rest to Shayne.
; “Are we going to be able to find civilization today, do you think?”
He finished off the last of the salmon in two quick bites. He didn’t look at her.
“Maybe. Like I said, all rivers lead somewhere, and all we have to do is head downstream.”
She looked at him closely. Somewhere in her head, a small alarm was going off. She didn’t know what it meant. But she hadn’t survived on the streets of L.A. by ignoring that little siren.
“Shayne,” she said slowly. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He stood up abruptly, kicking some dirt over the coals and throwing the remnants of the food back into the river. She followed him back to camp, where he started to take down the parachute shelter.
“Shayne…”
He paused. When he turned back to her, his expression was unreadable.
“I have no idea where we are. Any equipment that might have told us was left in the plane. I know that we need to head east. I know that at some point, we’ll find someone. That’s all I know.”
A lurking fear that had been haunting her since they’d landed sprang to full bloom. She sat down hard on the ground.
“Then we’re lost,” she said emptily.
Shayne paused. He left the parachute to crouch in front of her.
“No,” he said urgently. “We’re not lost. We know where we’re going. We know that if we keep putting one foot in front of the other, we’ll get to where we need to be eventually. All we have to do is keep going.”
His mouth was moving, he was saying words, but Gillian wasn’t able to understand them. She had always been a city girl. The sprawl of Los Angeles could be risky, especially when you were an underage girl with no one to look after you. The wilderness, however, with the tall trees, utter silence and lurking shadows––that was something else.
“I don’t know how to survive here,” Gillian said in a small voice.
She hadn’t realized she had spoken until she heard how frightened she sounded. She glanced around at the shadowed trees. It occurred to her that a shout or a thrown rock wouldn’t scare off…whatever lurked in the woods. She didn’t even know. She started to shake.
