by Marie Harte
The canny woman was now grinning at him. She liked him wanting her and hurting because of it?
“Ava, I never hurt Olivia or Sheridan, because I didn't love them. I like them, I respect them and their mates, and I'll treasure the softness they gave me when I needed it. But with you, I can't be gentle. Or safe.” He swallowed hard, seeing Susanna in his mind's eye. “I can't protect you from me.” Ava changed in an instant and launched herself at him. She knocked him to the ground and straddled his abdomen, her tiny hand around his throat and cutting off his air supply.
He stared at Ava who wasn't quite Ava. A shimmer of her beast lingered over her human form, like a shadow of animalistic rage over the beautiful woman underneath. This Ava had fangs and claws and unbelievable strength. She hadn't grown much, yet her strength was that of a Circ much, much larger.
“I don't need your fucking protection.” She spat the word like a curse. “I'm stronger and faster than you'll ever be. Your hesitance makes me question why I thought to consider you worthy of mating with me. You act like you're scared of your own shadow.”
She insulted his manhood. His beast didn't like the challenge. But it was his berserker that he worried about. The monster wouldn't tolerate its mate's rejection.
Just what Tersch had been trying to avoid.
He struggled against letting her see what she should be so scared of and rasped, “Ava, shit. Let me up and back away.”
“I've seen your berserker before.” She huffed and loosened her hold on his throat. “I'm not impressed.”
“Don't do this. Don't do this,” he chanted, holding on even as his beast broke through his constraints as well as his clothes. His shirt split; his toes cut through his sneakers and socks. His trousers burst at the button and seams. And still, he grew.
His skin turned a darker shade to reflect the monster that lived within, and his sight became infused with a tinge of red as his infrared heat vision engaged to better illuminate nearby prey.
“Ava, please. Get off me. Don't make me hurt you.”
“Prove you're stronger. Don't pretend any longer that you deserve me if you can't back it up.”
He roared his denial and held on to a semblance of sanity as he stared up at his mate. “Fuck! You don't understand. I can't help myself. You think this is about a fear of commitment?”
Tersch rose to his feet, forcing Ava to cling to him as he stood. Once again towering over her, he pulled her from his body and pushed her back. When she threw herself back at him, he caught her. Though her weight seemed impossibly as heavy as his, he held her up and stared into feline pupils dilated with rage.
“Little girl, you know nothing about anger.” Tersch's berserker leaned closer until they stared at one another nose to nose. “Did you read all my files? Did you read about Frederik Gunnar Tersch's dysfunctional little family?” He laughed, and she finally showed a modicum of sense.
Ava shrank back and dug her claws into his arms to find purchase in the crushing muscle drawing her closer.
“Did you read about how I killed my sister, my girlfriend, and then my father?” His back teeth filled his lower jaw, and the urge to bite grew. “I choked the life out of him, watched as the capillaries in his eyes burst, and listened as he gasped for his last breath. So sweet, that destruction, that battle for domination.” He nicked her neck for a taste of her sweet blood, captivated by her shudder. He whispered, “I killed him, and sick fuck that I am, I loved him. I loved all of them, you know. But I love you even more. Think what I could do to you with all that precious emotion?” The horror on her face drove him on, and his berserker ripped through her shirt to clutch one firm, brown breast. He squeezed hard, pulling the strong scent of arousal from her, as well as the bitter scent of fear. “When I'm ready, I'll take what I want, what I own. You're mine, Ava. All mine. I wonder if your neck will snap as sweetly as Susanna's did?”
Ava pushed out of his arms and ran away.
He squelched his instinctive urge to give chase and tore down several trees in his rage to find control. Tersch finally pulled his berserker back down, fighting the creature's urge to take care of its mate. Though Tersch wore his berserker's skin, the warning had been all Gunnar, the man. And he'd hated every word of it.
Now she knew. The ugly, distorted truth of a man so unworthy to be loved.
Alone and lonely, Gunnar imagined his life without Ava and felt unbearably sad.
Tears filled his eyes, but he ignored them. Instead, he left the trail and walked deeper into the forest. Then he ran and kept on running.
Chapter Seven
Ava spent the night alone. Despite Admiral London's pending visit in another day, her grandmother's fragile calm, and the danger circling close, she could think of nothing but Gunnar.
She'd wanted to call his bluff yesterday, but the truth in his words, in his voice, shocked her to silence. The berserker she'd been so attracted to seemed suddenly cold and threatening. To the Belles, family was all. Yet Gunnar admitted to killing his sister and father, not to mention his girlfriend. What the hell?
She wanted to blame his berserker for his lack of control, but she'd sensed the man inside the monster as it spoke. He'd seemed pleased to have killed his own father.
Lying in her bed past nine, she couldn't make herself get up. Maybe if she slept long enough, she'd wake to find it had all been a bad dream. Gunnar was a lot of things, but a murderer? He killed to protect, period. Yes, a part of him liked it, but that was the animal conquering weaker prey. She couldn't believe he would actively seek to kill his own family. There had to be more to the story than he'd told her.
Didn't there?
His team had always stuck by him. Her grandmother favored Gunnar over the others. Would any of them do that if he'd actually done such horrible things? Sure, everyone deserved a second chance, but some sins, in Ava's mind, were too horrible for atonement. Had she been so wrong about Gunnar for so long? Was Ava like her grandmother, trusting the wrong man because she thought she loved him?
The similarities in their plights were too bizarre, and Ava knew she needed to talk about this. Except when she called her grandmother's office, Keegan answered.
He told her Mrs. Sharpe had left for Washington last night. Something about critical funding issues.
“Aren't you supposed to be with Sheridan and Olivia?” she asked.
“Sorry, Ava. Price and I are under strict orders to stick with Mrs. Sharpe, and that's what we're doing. Damned woman gave us the slip. Now we have to find her and bring her back. Admiral London's not happy she's gone, and we're worried this might some type of ploy to draw her out from the Circs and put her in danger. Don't worry about Sheridan and Olivia. Kisho and Morgan took charge of the rest of our team. They and the psychics are guarding the women.”
“Terrific.” She sighed. “Well, go get Alicia and haul her back. Put all expenses on the corporate card.”
“Will do.” Keegan hung up.
She dropped the phone onto its cradle, wondering what else could go wrong.
“Ava, we've got a problem.” Kisho startled her out of her musings. He stood at her bedroom door, and he made it a point to respect personal space.
“Why aren't you with Sheridan and Olivia?”
“I sent Morgan ahead with them. I'll join him after we talk.”
“Great. Pile on.” She waved him inside. “I take it the problem you're referring to is my grandmother taking off for Washington without telling anyone.”
“What? Since when?”
“According to Keegan, she left last night.”
“Uh-oh. Now this wasn't supposed to happen.” He frowned. “In my vision, she's here when Admiral London arrives and shoots her.”
“Okay, say that again.”
Kisho sighed. “Your grandmother didn't just believe Admiral London was guilty on the basis of Melissa Ramirez. She had a vision I shared.”
“Has that happened before?” Ava sat up, her back against her headboard. Clad in a T-shirt and unde
rwear and covered at the waist by a thin sheet, she didn't worry about modesty. Especially since the only man she wanted sexually—her mate, Mr. Murderer—had made it plainly apparent they could never be anything but distant friends, if that.
“No. Mrs. Sharpe and I usually see different futures. The fact that we saw the same one upset us both. In it, Admiral London stared down your grandmother and shot her without blinking an eye.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“I wish I was. She was here in her office when he shot her, point-blank. She fell behind her desk. Shouts and fighting outside.” His eyes flickered, and a haze of psychic energy clouded between them.
Ava had a feeling he experienced it all over again. “All hell broke loose.” Kisho blinked. “But now… I don't understand. I still see it happening.” Something in Ava snapped. She refused to consider Admiral Geoffrey London her enemy. Because if Grandma could be wrong about him, then Ava might be wrong about Gunnar. And she couldn't imagine living without him. Even if he was a lying, stubborn, arrogant son of a bitch.
Her beast rose to the surface. “I don't care what you've seen. Lonnie is on our side. I'll prove it when he arrives tomorrow. Now, you join Morgan and cling to Sheridan and Olivia like glue. Keegan and James are after my grandmother, and I have a feeling they won't mind knocking her out and dragging her ass back.” She knew the way Keegan worked. Her grandmother was in for an unpleasant surprise when they caught up with her.
“But the vision—”
“Will play out as it's meant to or disappear. You know you can't always change everything.”
“I know.” Kisho paused. “But Ava, your grandmother has come to mean the world to me. I love Morgan, and she means the world to him. I won't let anything happen to her.”
“Then don't. Stick Olivia and Sheridan with Doc and his Circs for protection.
Then become Alicia's personal shadow.” A terrific plan.
He frowned. “I don't see her okay with that.”
“I know.” Ava gave him a sly grin. “Consider it payback for all the meddling she's done in your life.”
“She gave me Morgan. How can I hate that?”
Ava leaned forward to stroke Kisho's cheek. “Morgan is so lucky to have you.
But trust me when I say the woman is a busybody. You have no idea how you've been manipulated.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I'll tell you all about it when this vision and our troubles are over.”
“We're Circ. Our troubles will never be over.”
“You have a point,” she conceded. And though she hated to ask, she found her lips moving anyway. “Seen Gunnar lately?”
A ghost of a frown crossed his face. “No, and Jules isn't happy about it. I don't see anything negative in Tersch's future, but he's in a bad way. I know it.”
“He's always in a bad way,” she muttered. “I killed him, and sick fuck that I am, I loved him. I loved all of them, you know. But I love you even more.” Could her life suck any more? To finally hear his declaration of love, right before he threatened to murder her because of it? The man seriously owed her one hell of an explanation.
She glanced up to see Kisho's sober expression. “What?”
“Ava, Gunnar's had a thing for you from day one. It's grown worse. He's infatuated, obsessed, in love, call it what you will. But he's afraid to hurt you.”
“So he said.” In detail.
“You don't know how he suffered, and he'll never tell you.” Kisho looked sad.
“He's one of the most generous people I know, though he'd be mortified to hear me tell it. I can't know how bad his past was because I didn't live it, but I do know he lived with an abusive father for most of his young life. There's tragedy there, and some of it's due to the wildness that lurks beneath his heart.” An abusive father? That started to put things into perspective. Odd she'd never read of that in his detailed files.
“He needs you, Ava. He needs you to be whole. His rages worry me; they're getting worse. I know you can help calm him, but you have to make him see what we all know—that he'd never hurt his mate. Not in a million years.” The faith Kisho had for his friend made her ashamed she'd doubted Gunnar.
“I admit,” he continued, “his berserker can be alarming. But in all the time we've been together, he's never harmed me. He's been rough, aggressive, and at times downright dominant. But he's my friend, and I hate to see him hurting like he is.”
“I'll try, Kisho. But he's been avoiding me. I talked to him yesterday.” She blinked away angry tears of frustration and remorse. “It didn't go well.”
“Morgan and I figured as much when we saw you leave hand in hand but you returned alone and upset and smelling like one furious she-demon.” He held up his hands. His eyes crinkled. “Morgan's expression, not mine.”
“Your mate is an ass. But he's sweet on the inside, yeah, yeah. Trust me. I know Morgan the way you know Gunnar. And if Gunnar could love me half as much as Morgan loves you, I'd consider myself one lucky Circ.” Kisho patted her leg. “Then you know what you have to do. Collar the stubborn bastard and make him admit how wrong he's been for not believing in himself and you.”
His advice gave her the confidence she needed to seek out Gunnar once more.
When had Ava ever quit when going after something she wanted? Why start now? “I love you, Kisho. Marry me.”
The phone suddenly rang, interrupting her. She answered it on speaker.
“Hello?”
“Witch. Get yourself dressed and away from my mate.” Morgan's snippy attitude cheered her even more. “Before you ask, I'm using one of the astral projectors here—one I know we can trust—and you wouldn't believe what he's seeing. You and my mate in your bedroom.”
Ava grinned and waved at the ceiling. “Kisho's thinking of going hetero for me.” Ava batted her eyes.
Morgan's growl made both her and Kisho laugh.
“Oh, relax, Cuz. I've tolerated you and him balling what's mine, so give me some slack.”
Morgan coughed. “Jeez, Ava. It's an instinctive bonding thing. You know that.
And Kisho and I don't really do stuff with the guys anymore unless it's an all or nothing thing. Er, not usually. We're monogamous, mostly.”
“You are so cute when your face is all red.” Ava grinned.
“You don't know shit.”
“I don't have to see you to know you're blushing.” Kisho laughed. “You were wrong, Morgan. She isn't evil at all. She called you cute.”
“Shut up, kitsu. And you,” he said to Ava. “You and Tersch deserve each other.”
“Thanks! Now you need to get a move on. If your psychic hasn't filled you in, Kisho will when he calls you later. Here are the nuts and bolts.” She briefly filled him in on her conversation with Keegan.
Morgan sighed. “Fine, fine. Just make sure Kisho keeps his distance from Keegan. To tell the truth, I'll feel better when all the admiral's psychics around this place leave and don't come back. No offence, Scott,” he murmured to someone in the foreground. “I don't like the way Foreman looks at my kitsu.”
Kisho stood and winked at Ava. “If Gunnar doesn't come back soon, you'll probably find him at an abandoned cabin fourteen miles due east of here. Change and run that way, and you'll scent him.”
“Thanks.”
Morgan tried asking a question, but Kisho interrupted. “I'll explain later, Morgan. And Scott, get out of here,” he said to the astral projector. Kisho leaned over her to disconnect the call. “Good luck, Ava.”
“You too.”
She waited until Kisho left before jumping out of bed. Excited about her newfound courage to deal with her scary, emotionally scarred mate, she wasn't ready for the mental blast that hit her between the eyes. Damn you, Grayson, she swore before hitting the floor—hard. Then she blacked out.
* * *
Alicia Sharpe and Robert Anderson exchanged a look filled with understanding over the head of the small, balding man currently spouting book a
nd verse about spending, overspending, and unlawful travel claims.
Alicia wanted to ask the loathsome little toad if he was serious. Then she wanted to rip his throat out and feast on his entrails. She stole a glance at her designer suit and nixed the idea. She didn't want to think about staining her pale blue wool skirt or getting blood on her precious pearls. She fingered one earlobe, comforted by the smooth round gemstone. Though she knew the action to be telling, she at times used the convention to express nerves she didn't necessarily feel.
Looking like a frail older woman had its advantages.
Robert saw her touch the earring and gave a subtle nod. He couldn't stand Hank Berstrom either. The accountant acted as if each penny he saved the government came from his own wallet, yet he never questioned claims from his lobbyist friends for yachts, five-star hotels, and gourmet dining.
“What I think Mrs. Sharpe means, Mr. Berstrom, is that her project is still as viable today as it was a year ago. Admiral London sent you the paperwork yesterday, I believe. He copied me the memo.” Robert sounded apologetic as he reached into his briefcase and handed Berstrom the memo.
While she waited for him to read it, she sought deep inside herself for the answers she needed. She'd loved Geoffrey London for over thirty years. She'd been far from a young girl when they'd met, though he'd been an aspiring junior naval officer. Something about him had enamored her from the very beginning. He had good looks, intelligence, and manners drilled into him by loving parents. But it was his integrity, his yearning to give and protect those who couldn't protect themselves, that had struck a chord in her. That and his scent.
After the death of her mate, she'd never thought to find love again. Then she met Lonnie. Though human, Lonnie smelled like a Circ. Like home. He had a small bit of psychic ability, a touch of awareness for others with psychic gifts. And he'd been as drawn to her as she was to him.
