Storm's Heart er-2 Read online

  A traitorous part of her longed to run back to the only safe haven she had known for centuries, and it wouldn’t stop whining. See, even she thought running back to New York was weak.

  She supposed she had been happy there, or at least she had been happy enough. She’d had an adopted family of sorts. They had kept the threat level contained so that she had come to know a measure of contentment, if not peace. Living her life as she had in the confinement of bodyguards and under the constant expectation of attack, she hadn’t ever really felt free; but many people lived their lives under the constant threat of war, and they were far more constricted by poverty and a lack of opportunity than what she had enjoyed. If she hadn’t appreciated the constrictions on her life, still she had known how blessed she had been to have the resources, both in friends and finances, to more than adequately meet her needs and to indulge in a serious shoe addiction.

  But no matter how much she might want to go back to New York and hide in the safety of her former life, she couldn’t bring that kind of political tension down on the Wyr, not after they had opened their hearts so generously to her for so long. Dragos had enough on his plate as it was. He was adjusting to having a new, pregnant mate while at the same time contending with the fallout from his trespass into the Elven demesne, along with the potential political repercussions from Urien’s death.

  She knew what she had to do. She had to suck it up and go back to the Regent and get on with her sucky life, for however long it lasted. Why was she driving in circles? She couldn’t believe she was being such a flake about this. She hadn’t realized she was so messed up. Her breath shook and her vision blurred. She scrubbed at her eyes.

  She came to a halt at a four-way stop sign. She hadn’t felt up to facing the challenge of the strange fast-paced highway that cut past their second motel, so she had turned instead into a residential area. Modest houses with well-kept shrubbery dotted tree-lined streets that were ribboned with pale strips of sidewalk. Most of the houses were dark and quiet.

  She adored neighborhoods like this. They were so exotic. Whole families lived in these houses. The parents went to work, and the children climbed into yellow buses and went to school. They shared suppers together as loads of laundry wrinkled in clothes dryers. (Imagine washing your own laundry. What fun!)

  Sometimes at Christmas she would slip into neighborhoods just like this one. She would walk along the streets and peer into windows at family and holiday gatherings, and marvel at the shiny gold, crimson and green decorated trees covered with tinsel and twinkling colored lights, while she wondered what it must be like to experience the beauty of such an ordinary, unattainable life.

  The light rain from earlier in the evening had grown heavier. She looked over the readings on the dashboard of the SUV as she searched for the windshield wiper switch. Wow, this was a really nice SUV. A hybrid. She only understood half of what the dashboard told her. The clock read 3:32 A.M.

  By now Tiago was hot on her trail and breathing fire. She could practically feel him coming up behind her. The tiny hairs at the back of her neck rose. The air felt charged, full of static.

  Hey, maybe she should stop to get some breakfast. If she was already in a restaurant, he couldn’t yell at her so much, could he? Besides, it would be rude if she showed up at the Regent before dawn with a furious Wyr sentinel in tow. She would wake people up and cause a ruckus.

  She accelerated when it was her turn and looked for a driveway that she could use to turn the SUV around. She remembered seeing an IHOP restaurant about a half a mile back. Gorging on pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream might make her feel better and solve all her problems. Okay, so that seemed like it was a long shot, but she was willing to give it a try.

  A violent wind rose from one block to the next. It whipped through the surrounding trees. Lightning speared the air. White light burned a jagged path across her retinas as it struck a tree. The accompanying thunderclap was like the explosion of a roadside bomb. The concussion assaulted her eardrums and shook the body of the vehicle. She startled so badly she almost lost control of the SUV.

  Then not twenty yards in front of her a gigantic bird of prey with a thirty-foot wingspan plummeted down. For one split second he was caught full in the headlights of the SUV, enormous wings splayed high in the air and razorlike sword-long talons outstretched. He was shaped like a golden eagle, but his color was a dark sooty black.

  Lightning flashed in those great fierce eyes. Thunder roared as he changed in midair and landed as a massive hawk-faced man in black fatigues and combat boots. He strode toward her, rage carving his body into a hard-edged weapon.

  She shrieked and slammed on the brakes. She hit them too hard and the vehicle went into a skid. Tiago leaped forward. His hands slammed like twin sledgehammers into the edge of the hood.

  He stopped the SUV dead.

  She sat frozen as she stared at him, her mouth open. The fancy hybrid engine bawled a complaint and stalled.

  Tiago came around to the driver’s side and yanked the door open. He gripped the edge of the roof with both hands and glared at her. He was already soaked. She watched with eyes gone huge and round as a drop of water slid down one lean, hard cheek where a muscle twitched.

  The knife wound had hurt too much for her to put on the seat belt. Wincing, she swiveled with care to face him. The rain pelted her bare legs and arms.

  Maybe it was time to get cute. Her lower lip stuck out and her forehead wrinkled. In a small uncertain voice, she said, “Sowwy?”

  If anything, that seemed to make him angrier. Worse, he looked offended. He snarled, “Don’t pull that manipulative sex kitten shit on me.”

  She shrank back, her eyes crinkled in worry. “But what if I am a manipulative sex kitten shit?”

  His grip on the car roof accentuated his heavy arm and chest muscles. He was breathing hard. His lightning-filled gaze fell, and he stilled.

  She looked down. When she escaped from the motel room, she had figured stealth and speed were more important than getting dressed, so she was still in the camo shorty-shorts and midriff T-shirt. The rain had quickly soaked her front as well. Her nipples had puckered in the chill wet and were quite visible underneath her thin sports bra and shirt.

  She looked up again into his dangerous face and said, “That’s not my fault. I’m just sayin’.”

  He shoved his head and shoulders into the vehicle as he captured her by the back of the neck. His open mouth drove down onto hers. He was digging deep inside her mouth with his tongue before she fully knew what happened.

  She made a sound, a whimper of surprise that he swallowed and gave back to her in a throaty growl that raised goose bumps along her bare arms and legs. The force of his kiss pushed her head back against his hand as he gripped the nape of her neck. She was trapped between his hand and his mouth. Her hands fluttered. She clutched at the front of his soaked T-shirt.

  His kiss was brutal, ravenous, but his grip on her was gentle. He slid an arm around her waist and eased her forward until she perched on the side of the seat. He held her in place, an arm locked at her waist and a hand at her nape, as he nudged between her legs and slid the massive bulk of his long torso flush against hers. All the while he speared into the depths of her mouth and ate at plump lips that had gone soft in amazement.

  The taste and texture of him was a shocking assault to her senses, the cold rain slippery on hot, aggressive lips. His jeans felt rough against the tender skin on the inside of her thighs, and a hard swollen length pressed against her pelvis. She felt his body move as he sucked in air. He was huge everywhere, his body over twice her size.

  She couldn’t have stopped him if she’d tried.

  She didn’t want to try. She relaxed in his hold, trusting her body to the solid support he offered. She tilted up her head to him, eyes closed to the rain, and she kissed him back with all the starved passion she had stored up inside.

  Tiago felt the tension in her body melt away as her ripe, wicked little mo
uth and eager tongue worked under the onslaught of his. The surrender of her body was so damn erotic he almost came in his fatigues.

  Fucking hell. He fell into a tailspin.

  What the hell was he doing?

  She’s been hurt. Careful, no frenzy allowed. She suckled at his tongue as he thrust in her, and her slender white legs wrapped around his waist. Okay, maybe a little frenzy. He groaned and rubbed the hard length of his erection against the sweet welcoming arc of her pelvis. He wanted to palm those beautiful breasts of hers and tongue that gold ring at her navel. He wanted to spread her out and feast on her with the intensity of a starving man.

  Delicate fingers dug into his short wet hair. He felt the tiny prick of fingernails in his scalp like kitten claws. He wanted them raking down his naked back. He wanted her to draw blood as she screamed and climaxed in his arms. Her breath came in jagged spurts. She was burning up, but violent shivers began to shake through her small frame.

  Sanity bulldozed its way into his thick skull. He dragged his mouth away from hers with a harsh gasp, tilting his head up to the rain as he tucked her face into his neck. “Goddammit,” he hissed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Of course you are,” she muttered. “Not one single thing has gone right for me today. Why should this be any different?”

  He glared down at the top of her head. What the hell did she mean by that?

  She pushed her nose into the hollow where his neck met his shoulder as her trembling increased. Too many things were happening in her body. The knife wound felt like it was on fire. She was so hot yet freezing at the same time. Weakness invaded her limbs, and the sharp, empty ache between her thighs had crazy thoughts running through her head, like how easy it would be to unzip his fatigues and take that swollen, hard cock in her hand. Like how much she wanted to explore the strange sensual terrain of his flesh and pump him until he spilled all over her. Her breath hitched.

  Headlights swept over them as a car approached. He scooped her out of the driver’s seat, carried her around and deposited her in the passenger’s seat. Then he strode back, climbed in the driver’s side and started the SUV so that he could park it by the side of the road. The engine was already warm, so he turned the heater on full blast before he turned to her again.

  She was a bedraggled mess. The manipulative sex kitten had turned into a half-drowned rat. Her black hair glittered wet and sleek against the graceful curve of her skull, and those gorgeous erect nipples of hers, God help him, were dark raised pebbles underneath that porno T-shirt. She was shaking visibly. Grinding his teeth, he leaned past her to reach for one of the shopping bags she had thrown onto the passenger’s seat floor. Not caring what he grabbed, he pulled out an item of clothing and began to stroke her wet bare arms and legs with it.

  She muttered, “I had this whole thing going a lot differently in my head.”

  “I hardly dare to ask,” he said. His white teeth bit at the air.

  “For one thing, I was going to retain control of the car,” she said. Her teeth chattered. She pushed his hand away. “There you go, being nice again. Stop it.”

  “What, you prefer abuse?” he growled. “That can be arranged. Just keep pushing at me, faerie.”

  “Pushing you.” She snorted a laugh. “Don’t tempt me. You haven’t even seen me get started.”

  He cocked a sleek, sardonic eyebrow at her. “I’m actually afraid you might be right about that.”

  She grabbed the sweatpants from his hand and began to dry herself off. The material was thick and absorbent. She would have shrugged and slipped them on except she thought the twist of movement needed to pull them over her hips would hurt too much. Instead, she dug one of the T-shirts out of the bag.

  Tiago’s hands came over hers.

  “I know you’re hurting,” he said, dropping his bad-tempered attitude for the moment. He had a powerful battlefield voice, deep and rich and penetrating, but now it was throttled down to just a dark murmur that was so gentle it shook her soul. “Let me help you.”

  He was right; she was hurting, and she was still trembling like a leaf. She bit her lips and nodded. He eased the shirt on, guiding the arm on her injured side. She managed to say, “Thank you.”

  “Where were you going, anyway?” he asked.

  “I want pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream.” She sniffed as she spread the sweatpants over her lap for the warmth.

  “You left to get breakfast.” The flatness of his voice and the cynical expression on his harsh features said he didn’t believe her.

  She rolled her eyes. She told him, “I left to get away from you.”

  “You must still be drunk if you thought you could give me the slip,” he snapped. “You didn’t have a chance in hell.”

  Well, no. She opened her eyes very wide. “I got your car and your gun when you weren’t looking, didn’t I?”

  He clearly didn’t like what he heard, if his scowl was any indication. His glare could peel paint. What the hell was the matter with her? She was needling a pissed-off thunderbird, for God’s sake.

  She groped for some sanity and told him, “Look, running back to New York is not an option. I don’t have the energy to keep arguing with you about it. Will you just buy me some breakfast at IHOP and then take me back to the Regent?”

  His attention shifted away from her as she spoke. His gaze narrowed on the car that had just passed them. The car’s brake lights came on, shining bright red in the rainy night.

  “What did you do with the Glock?” he asked. His face, voice, body remained calm.

  Her stomach gave a sickened lurch. She dug into a shopping bag and put the gun into his outstretched hand. The car that had captured Tiago’s attention reversed with a sharp squeal of tires.

  Tiago was already exiting the SUV. He moved so fast he was a blur. He said to her telepathically, Lock the doors and get down on the floor. NOW, Tricks.

  “Dr. Death” wasn’t just a nickname she had made up on the spot. It was what the other Wyr sentinels called Tiago behind his back. He was a killing machine quick to anger and fueled by immense Power.

  She had years of experience working with the Wyr sentinels whenever the threat level warranted she should have a detail of bodyguards. She knew when to fight, when to run away and when to get out of the way.

  She wasn’t a very old faerie and she wasn’t all that Powerful. The low-level Power she did have was barely enough to cross over to an Other land or to achieve telepathy, which anyone, Elder Race or human, could do if they had a spark of magic. She also had a delicate sprinkle of charisma that gave her an edge sometimes in negotiations and knotty social gatherings, but it was worth squat in a combat situation. She had a small, light build, and now she was wounded. Her self-defense abilities were all artifice and had very little to do with natural aptitude.

  She owed everything she knew to years of determined, patient training by the sentinels. Sure, she could kick ass, but she generally preferred for someone’s back to be turned when she did so. Using poison on her stilettos was just another way to level a very uneven playing field. This was not a time for her to fight. This was a time for her to do as she was told and keep out of the way.

  She locked the doors and pulled herself into a compact package on the passenger’s seat floor, arms over her head. Her knife wound gave a throb so vicious it seemed to shoot to her spine. She could feel a gush of warmth against her chilled skin as it started bleeding again. It was the least of her worries at the moment.

  She hated this part, hated it when someone she cared about put his life on the line for her. No matter how many times she went through it, it never got easier.

  “Be okay,” she whispered to Tiago. “Be safe.”

  That was when the shooting started.

  FOUR

  The sound of gunshots passed quickly. What she heard next was incomprehensible and just as frightening. There was a sudden explosion of glass shattering, a shout of rage and then a high scream of pain.

  After w
hat seemed like forever but was just a few moments, Niniane couldn’t take it any longer. She broke a cardinal rule and disobeyed her bodyguard. She shifted and eased up on one knee until she could peer out the rain-smeared window.

  The SUV and the other car’s headlights, along with the streetlamps, caused the surrounding area to be unevenly lit and filled with deep shadows. Still, Tiago’s aggressive black-clad form was unmistakable as he slammed one boot down on the head of a supine figure. The figure convulsed then lay still.

  She covered her mouth, swallowing hard. There was another figure slumped at the steering wheel. The driver’s window was starred with bullet holes.

  Her gaze darted around. The Dark Fae tradition of working in triads extended to more than just legitimate groupings of governmental officials. If this was a Dark Fae triad, where was the third?

  She pressed a hand to the wound at her side, and grimaced and panted as she began the painful process of wriggling back into the driver’s seat of the SUV. Maybe she couldn’t do much to help, but she could be ready to drive them from the scene if needed.

  A dark figure lunged from the blackness of nearby shrubbery. The breath left her in a hiss. It was a shorter, slighter figure than Tiago and moved with killing speed as it threw something at him.

  But Tiago was well aware of the threat and already acting. He dove to one side. He shot the other figure as he fell to the ground. The attacking Fae lurched and dropped. Tiago rolled. With a single leap that spanned at least twenty feet he was on the fallen Fae, who must have already been dead, because Tiago straightened almost immediately. He stared down at his fallen opponent for what seemed a long time. Then he spun to glare around at the scene. His raptor’s eyes flashed eerily in the car’s headlights as he turned toward her.