Bethany's Rite (16 page)

“And they had her scent,” Wyc said. “Not a chance in hell
did they break into her apartment to get it, and then follow her here, hundreds
of miles she crossed in a car.”

Silence ruled for a moment as none of the three wanted to
put their damning thoughts into words. Rordyc let out a disgusted breath.
“Shit. The scent has to be fairly fresh, which means someone with access to the
house and your room, took something of hers to give them. Is she missing
anything?”

The thought of someone else entering the room he shared with
his mate and touching, taking anything of hers had fury rising like a tidal
wave through his veins. Wyc forced it back. Refused to let emotion cloud his
thoughts. “I’ll have her check. And I want to know how the hell portals are
being opened at will.”

All three of the cousins knew there were ways, but few
others would. The methods were costly both in lives and to the stability of
their homeworld. For those reasons, among others, those secrets had been buried
for centuries in the literature of the ancients few had access to. But like the
secret to the drug,
Yes Master
, the Predators were now using, those
secrets had been discovered by someone and sold to the Sleht.

There were too many possibilities and at the same time,
impossibilities. And working the problem from two worlds was enough to drive
the strongest mind insane. But one thing was certain—if they didn’t find their
mates soon, and the prophecy was left unfulfilled, Ilyria faced a dark age it
might never recover from.

“I’m working on it,” Rordyc said. “But Amdyn’s right. You
need to get your mate out of here. I have an option, if you want to take it.”

One of Rordyc’s jobs was to secure safe houses and living
quarters for the teams that worked the retrieval detail. Initially, Amdyn had
been responsible for that detail, but Rordyc had complained once too often
about the Spartan accommodations and Amdyn had shoved the task into his lap.
Turned out, he had the uncanny ability to find the most out-of-the-way places
that were easily defended and, more often than not, met his high standards for
hedonistic pleasure. Everyone was happier, though Amdyn would never admit it.

“Who knows about it?” Wyc asked.

“No one. I was saving it for my mate. In case she needed
some convincing to complete the final rite of the Matching Ritual.” Rordyc’s
grin highlighted his lecherous intent. Though two years younger than Wyc, he
had been matched to Bethany’s older sister, Eavyn.

“Find anything new on her location?” Wyc asked.

Rordyc shrugged. “Nothing to speak of.”

For the first time all night, Wyc smiled. His cousin’s
laid-back attitude could fool everybody except him. The last time Rordyc had
been with Eavyn, she was a tiny slip of a three-year-old child, yet had still
managed to push him into the river when he tried to kiss her cheek in the
customary greeting. Not something his cousin was likely to forget or let go
unreciprocated.

Rordyc had something, he’d bet on it. But with the recent
attacks, his best friend would probably be mated and have Eavyn back in Ilyria
with their first child well on the way before he got around to telling anyone.
Rordyc had been in a library in Des Moines four days ago, yet the last lead he
had mentioned to anyone but Wyc was in Madrid. And even then, his comments were
made days after the lead had turned into a dead end.

Though none would question his loyalty, most assumed Rordyc
wasn’t too interested in finding Eavyn. But the uncharacteristic advances in
the Sleht strikes put Rordyc’s taciturn nature regarding his mate’s search in a
new light. Wyc wondered just how long Rordyc had suspected a traitor among
their ranks.

“Think you can get Bethany out of the house without her
feeling the need to knee your balls into your throat?” Rordyc asked.

Wyc’s response regarding Rordyc’s family jewels jolted a
bark of laughter from his cousin before they all got down to the business of
moving Bethany to a new location.

Bethany woke in a different room from the one she fell
asleep in. The hurt and anger that had propelled her out of Wyc’s grip and into
the house had evaporated by the time she reached the bedroom. Too tired to
maintain that level of emotion, she had fallen face-first and fully clothed
onto the bed. Her last coherent thought as she turned her head to the side to
breathe had been that if she kicked Wyc in her sleep, at least with her shoes
still on, he’d be sure to feel it.

She had a dreamlike memory of being carried down the stairs
and laid in the backseat of an SUV. The bumpy ride had her head bouncing on
Wyc’s thigh. Too tired to care about appearing as cranky as a crotchety old
lady with her support hose in a knot, she grumped her way back to sleep each
time the uneven road woke her up. She was pretty sure she heard Rordyc laugh
once or twice, but for the most part, she remembered Wyc’s patient, soothing
voice as he rubbed her head and she slept. Until the next bump.

She stretched and let her limbs slide along the softest,
silkiest sheets she had ever slept between. Since she was laying here in just
her panties, Wyc had obviously taken more time to undress her before putting
her to bed than she had done for herself earlier. Her duffel was on a chair
close to the bed, and she retrieved a clean pair of jeans and long-sleeved,
v-necked T-shirt and got dressed.

Pulling open one of the shuttered French doors to see where
she was, she was momentarily blinded by the searing light of day. She slapped
her palm over her eyes to block the sun. Much more cautious the second time,
she slit two fingers open and peeped through her hand.

And then let it fall to her side. “Wow,” she whispered, her
eyes rounding in awe at the view in front of her. The house seemed to be
located at the top of a low mountain, surrounded by aspen trees, their bright
golden leaves shining like tiny burnished shields against the perfectly clear
blue sky.

“There’s lunch waiting for you on the front porch,” Wyc said
from behind her.

She turned to face him, finding him dressed in dark cargo
pants and a black thermal crew that emphasized his broad shoulders and thick,
dark hair.

“Lunch?”

“You slept through breakfast.”

His gaze dropped to the front of her shirt. She hadn’t
bothered with a bra yet, and now her nipples tightened and pushed against the
thin material under the heat of his stare.

She was fighting the urge to cross her arms over her breasts
when a confident, extremely arrogant grin spread across his face. The jerk.
Fine. This was a game two could play. She propped her hands on her hips and
stuck out her chest.

“Great. So, if you’re done ogling, I’m going to go eat now.”
She pushed past him and only taken three steps down the short hall before
coming to a dead stop.

“Oh my God.” It looked like something straight out of a
decorating magazine. The comfortable but sparse modern decor, accented with
light wood and a cream and blue color scheme made it feel like you were truly
sitting in the sky. The river rock fireplace reached to the ceiling and had a
thick fur rug in front of it.

The front wall was dominated by a huge picture window,
unbroken by seams or panes. If possible, the view out the front outshone the
back like the sun did the moon.

Bethany rushed out the front door, stood at the edge of the
porch and looked down into a valley studded with stands of pines among more
fall-kissed aspens. Not far from the house stood a gorgeous mountain lake that
mirrored the sky and forest around it in startling detail. Regal, snow-capped
mountains rose in the distance to frame the entire vista.

“Where are we? This place is amazing.”

“You can thank Rordyc the next time you see him. Meanwhile—”
he took her by the arm and guided her to the small table on the porch set up
with sandwiches and iced tea, “—you need to eat.”

Bethany looked at the table. The chairs were too close
together. The table was too small. She didn’t want to be that near to Wyc. It
was one thing for him to complicate her life, but her heart could only take so
much. If the only way to protect it was to maintain an emotional distance, then
that’s what she would do.

Easier said than done she found out as the afternoon wore
on. For some reason, no matter what she did, he was determined to be charming.
And thoughtful. And witty. And he did sexy just by breathing, damn it.

He kept talking to her. Asking questions. Acting interested
in her answers. Telling her about Ilyria and the place reserved for her among
their people. Filling in what he knew of her family. When he brought up the
classes she was taking in college and told her about the types of similar
schools on their homeworld, she actually got excited about the possibilities.

He smiled at her enthusiasm, encouragement shining in his
eyes, and she laughed. Her heart expanded with happiness. Unthinkingly, she
reached for him. And froze. Oh God. One stupid conversation and she was ready
to crawl up his body. Again.

She excused herself to get a drink in the kitchen. And
refined her plan. She obviously needed physical as well as emotional distance,
so she would simply avoid him.

When he entered a room, she left. He followed. Her
wanderings took her through the house, poking her nose in several closets and
finding Rordyc’s hedonistic tendencies didn’t stop at sheets. The pantry was
stocked with nonperishable delicacies such as caviar and expensive wines, the
bathroom cabinets revealed a selection of lotions, oils, bath salts and
extra-large, kitten-scruff-soft plush towels.

Her exploration ended in the bedroom when she opened the
armoire and found herself staring at an impressive array of sex toys and
accoutrements. She was standing there, trying to decide what the heck some of
the odder-looking items were used for, when she felt the heat of Wyc’s body
radiating against her back. She sucked in her breath and tried not to imagine
exploring the possibilities this chest offered with the sex god behind her.

“Rordyc keeps quite a toy chest,” she commented, hoping her
sarcasm would cover the signs of her nervous arousal.

Wyc reached around her, his chest bumping her shoulder, and
brushed his fingers over a set of black velvet cuffs. His warm breath tickled
her ear when he whispered, “Want to play?”

Her heart immediately tried to thump out of her chest,
drumming a resounding
yes
through every drop of blood in her body.
Before the demand could override her previous no-sex, no-attachment resolution,
she slammed the cupboard shut, barely giving Wyc enough time to yank his hand
out of the way.

“I’m going to take a walk.” Ignoring his quiet laughter, she
headed outside and down to the lake. He went with her. Taking out some of her
aggravation on an old stump sticking out of the water a good fifty feet from
the shore, she hurled rock after rock at it.

“You’re letting go of the rock too soon. Hang on to it just
a bit longer,” Wyc advised from the post he had taken next to a boulder several
feet away.

She glared at him, picked up another rock and flung it at
the stump. It hit it dead on. She picked up another one, looked at him while
she threw it, again hitting the target’s center.

“Or maybe,” he said, “you were hitting everything you aimed
at.”

“I was going to go to college on a softball scholarship.”
Another rock thumped against the water-logged wood with a solid
thwump
.
“Until an ankle injury knocked me out at the start of the season my senior
year.”
Thwump. Thwump
.

“So you were missing the stump on purpose?”

She dropped the rock she had just picked up. Turned and
headed back to the cabin. “I was knocking off the sticks on its sides.”

He grabbed her hand as she stalked by him. Pulled her to him
until she stood close enough for him to loosely hold her in the circle of his
embrace. She crossed her arms over her chest, ensuring the space between them.

“I’m sorry your plans didn’t work out.”

“Thanks. But it wasn’t a big deal.” It had been, but she
didn’t want to get into it. Besides, if he wanted a list of the plans that
hadn’t worked out in her life, they’d need more than an afternoon to cover it.
“I managed.”

Something akin to regret flashed through his eyes. “I know.”

By the time they returned to the cabin, she was drained from
constantly resisting the magnetic pull Wyc had on her.

A nap would help. Would have helped, if he hadn’t joined
her. As soon as the bed sunk under his weight, heat rushed down and swirled
through her pussy. She jumped up like her butt had been rocket-launched off the
mattress.

The man was driving her crazy. If having an extra shadow
hadn’t been bad enough, throughout the day he kept finding reasons to touch
her. Brushing a strand of hair off her face. Resting a hand on her arm or
waist. Standing close enough to graze up against her. Dropping a kiss on her
forehead.

Every time he touched her, her body reacted. She wanted to
lean into him. Ask for more. Demand more. But after last night, she knew she
wasn’t able to keep sex with Wyc separate from her feelings. And since her
heart wasn’t listening to reason and falling back out of love as fast as it
fell into love with him, the least she could do was not to fling it out there
for him to stomp on again.

Bethany was weakening. He could tell.

“Talk to me,” he prompted, joining her on the couch. He had
unsuccessfully tried to initiate conversation throughout dinner, but only
received one- or two-word answers on her part.

She crossed her arms and stared into the fire he had started
in the fireplace. Her nervous action of running her hand through her hair had
left it mussed and curling around her shoulders in sexy waves. Her lower lip
was red and slightly swollen from being dragged through her teeth. She was
turning him on with her anxious little mannerisms. He wanted to suck that pouty
lower lip into his mouth, smooth back the glossy strands of auburn hair and
bare the lovely curve of her neck.