Gryphon and His Thief (5 page)

"Calli, don't—" he still called after
her.

She'd already stepped outside and closed the
door behind her, muffling whatever request he was about to make.
She really hated leaving him cuffed and vulnerable, but then he
deserved to be left behind, didn't he? He did try to kill her after
all – if she believed he could shift into a Gryphon, and she was
pretty sure he told the truth there. She'd only handcuffed him.

She pursed her lips as she recalled the
events that led her to this moment. The Gryphon did come after her,
but it hadn't harmed her, and the human side of Darrien hadn't
harmed her either.

"No, don't go all soft now," she murmured.
Her gaze landed on the bushes to the side of her, and she crouched
down. Her hand brushed aside the dirt at the base of the plant,
revealing the pouch she'd stashed at the last moment when she'd
arrived at the motel. Her instincts had proven right on. She'd
known the chase wasn't over when she left the museum. Hiding the
stone was a must, so she'd faked dropping her keycard to hide it
without being obvious. If Darrien had the stone in his possession,
he would have been long gone by now.

She lifted the pouch and brushed off the
dirt. She released the string and peeked inside. The stone was
still there, nestled safely within its new confines. She gripped
the pouch, but she didn't move toward her car. Why was she still
hesitating about leaving Darrien cuffed to a bed?

'Cause you've questioned Professor Leander's
motives for wanting the stone a million times before you committed
to stealing it for her. 'Cause you always were suspicious of her,
and Darrien reminded you of the fact.

She'd run a background check on Professor
Leander—twice. She couldn't find any incriminating evidence. Not
one thing to warn her not to take the job. Just the annoying
niggling at the back of her mind, and now Darrien made her doubt
her choices all over again.

Her hand wavered to her lips still tingling
from Darrien's kiss. Good Lord, the man kissed as if he thirsted
for her caress, and he wasn't selfish. He gave too.
Boy, had he
given.
For a moment, she'd forgotten the reasons they were
thrown together in the first place. "Too bad he longs for another
woman," she murmured.

Another shriek of frustration resounded from
the motel room, drawing her attention. She had a hunch Darrien
wouldn't be kept prisoner for long. He may not be able to shift in
the room, but his large biceps told her he wouldn't stay cuffed for
long either. The headboard wasn't made of steel. He would break
free eventually.

She hurried toward her vehicle. She'd check
out what Darrien claimed about the stone and go from there.

Chapter Six

Darrien shouted in frustration as he yanked
on the handcuffs, but they held fast. He couldn't shift in such a
small space without causing considerable damage to himself and the
structure. He could ill afford either.

Wasn't he a halfwit? He should have been
suspicious from the start when her actions proved amorous. He
chortled in disgust at his own stupidity. Calli may be Callista
reincarnated, but she in no way was the same woman he'd fallen in
love with centuries before in Andros. Her soul had adjusted to this
century and her upbringing had shaped her. Damn the stars above if
he wasn't attracted to her anyway. He ran a hand over his face in
frustration, inhaling deeply as he did so and then letting the air
out of his lungs in a long frustrated sigh. The little minx did not
realize the danger she posed, not only from the person who hired
her, but from him as well. His beastly side would sooner or later
demand justice for her stealing the stone. He feared no matter his
feelings for her, it would prove not enough, and the beastie would
win.

He stared at the cuff surrounding his wrist
and cursed again for being caught unaware. With his other hand, his
fingers slid over the cool metal. "I am even a bigger fool," he
grumbled, not because of the binds that held him fast, but because
the handcuffs weren't anything special. They were not fashioned out
of iron, but some other mundane metal of no consequence, nothing
that would hamper his strength and abilities. He may not be able to
shift into the Gryphon because of the small quarters, but he could
still shift into his elemental form. He let the elements slide over
him and transform his body to ether.

Once free, he rematerialized into his human
form and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. He had a few hours
before he had to return to the museum or else find himself
vulnerable as he turned to stone.

He threw open the door to the motel room, and
immediately his gaze riveted to the car space where Calli had
parked her vehicle. Of course, he found it vacant. He'd expected no
less, but still he cursed softly as he strode over to the spot. He
inhaled deeply, finding her sweet scent beneath the car's more
odorous aromas. He would be able to track her and he shifted into
the beastie, shielding his true self with magic.

Most humans could not perceive the
Otherworldly realm, and still others dismissed it as a trick of the
eye. There were only those few who could see through the trickery
of magic and witness all things around them. Some went mad from it,
others were leery and tended to stay clear of preternatural
affairs, and still others were curious and worked beside such
creatures which possessed more than a human side. Calli sensed the
Otherworldly plane, even if she didn't wholeheartedly accept it as
of yet.

The humans of the tribes that lived centuries
ago lived among preternatural beings. It proved not a strange
matter. As the ages forged on, humans began to fear preternatural
beings with their abilities and their strengths. Perhaps they were
justified. Not all preternatural beings cared for humans. Even in
his clan, there had been those who despised the human tribes. They
believed the humans used them for their purposes, but didn't treat
them with respect. Wars broke out, and despite the preternatural
beings' strengths, the humans outnumbered them. The numbers of
preternatural beings dwindled, some became extinct. Others faded
away into history until they became nothing more than legends and
folklore, a preference the Otherworldly realm preferred.

Right now, he wanted to remain invisible and
not give proof to his existence. He'd seen videos on the curator's
computer. The hunt for the Loch Ness Monster and Big Foot were the
biggest hits. Shifting to his beastie side was a personal moment he
wished not to share with the world. The mortals lacking imagination
would not understand and what they did not perceive as normal, they
tended to hunt down and destroy.
No, thank you, Zeus on
high
; he preferred the shadows.

He used his back paws to push off the ground,
catapulting himself high enough for his wings to catch the wind and
to send him soaring even higher toward the heavens. His eyesight
proved as keen as an eagle's, his wings as strong and sure as they
supported his massive body high above the ground so he could search
for Calli's vehicle. She drove a black sedan and no doubt what she
perceived as inconspicuous.

While she'd been unconscious, he had rifled
through the vehicle in hopes of finding the stone she secreted
away. No sign of the stone, but he found her rental agreement for
the vehicle, stating her name. It hadn't been the one she'd given
him inside the motel room. So either she'd stolen the rental – he
wouldn't put it past her – or she had many aliases, with
credentials to back them up.

However, he remained sure she'd given him her
true name inside the room. Perhaps she'd been a little disoriented
and hadn't thought to give him something false or she'd believed
she could outsmart him and it wouldn't matter once the stone was in
the hands of her client.

Wrong on both accounts. If he couldn't locate
Calli in the next few hours, he'd search for her via the Internet.
He'd pick up her trail again, even if it took a few nights to do
so.

Damn the gods for limiting his abilities to
the night. The artifacts were also in danger during the daylight
hours. Having a human caretaker secure the building, while he
waited out the endless hours in his deathlike state, didn't seem
the wisest of choices, but there wasn't exactly a complaint box or
a person he could chat with about the situation. The curse was all
about remaining isolated. He was not worthy to be with anything
other than objects that could not bleed…could not die…

For the last decade, a Mr. Andros guarded the
cursed items, or so his stationary on the desk dictated. He
wondered if the man was a distant relation to those who lived on
his blessed Isle of Andros, but alas, there were no chummy meetings
over tea. Once the sun had set, the man donned his hat, locked the
building, and headed home – or so he would assume. He really knew
nothing of the curator's life, only what he left scattered on the
desk… like his doodles and notes. He liked some sci-fi show and
drew spaceships and such. They were interesting to say the least.
His computer and the sites he visited were other such evidence. He
tended to leave up sites like gardening, and articles about how to
prepare chicken. Definitely, yawn worthy. The man had no
taste
,
but his most annoying habit though was his love for
tea. Various teacups were left around the museum, some still filled
to the brim. It was like the man would forget he'd brewed a blasted
cup and would prepare another.

Caring for the artifacts had always been done
this way since ancient times. A curator ran the museum during the
daylight hours, and then he would take over at night. Every few
decades, the museum would be moved to a new location and a warding
spell redone to keep the preternatural world at bay, less they were
tempted to explore the cursed objects and use them for their own
agenda. Humans couldn't be warded away, but the beast would take
care of those who became too curious.

He assumed once the museum was moved to a
different location, a new curator took over the daytime hours.
Humans only lived so long.

The wind whipped around him, feathering along
his body like a caress. He enjoyed his moment of freedom to fly
above the world, even if it was to hunt for a wayward thief. He
couldn't leave the building unless prompted to find a missing item,
which proved far and in between. Come to think of it, he couldn't
remember the last time he'd spread his wings in this fashion.

As much as he wanted to continue to fly, his
senses kept gearing him toward the museum, which didn't seem to
make a whole lot of sense when his thief was on the run. Perhaps
the sun's attempt to peek over the horizon prompted his
anxiety.

After a few more beats of his wings, he
veered toward the museum, the apprehension growing stronger as he
approached.

He landed with the grace of his kind before
shifting into his human form. Then he sprinted to the front door
only to skid to a halt as he rounded the corner. "You!" he accused
with confusion and surprise. His heart tripped then sped up as he
swore softly. Calli stood in front of the museum, the pale light
from the approaching dawn revealing her natural attributes:
ginger-colored hair with strands of gold and dark auburn,
rose-colored lips he had tasted and longed for more, and a figure
that sculptors would praise by carving statues in her honor.

She hadn't run after all.

Chapter Seven

"Hi, Big Boy. Did you miss me?" Calli asked
and her lips curved into a huge grin, loving that she'd surprised
Darrien by showing up at the Museum. Heck, she'd been trying to go
over her reasons for this bold move too.

After she abandoned him at the motel, she'd
only gone so far before she realized she couldn't leave him. She
needed answers about the artifact, and who better to ask than the
person guarding it?

By the time she circled around, he'd already
broken free of his confines…or rather somehow managed to slip out
of the cuffs. She assumed he would take his Gryphon form to search
for her, but he probably wouldn't look for her at the museum. She
headed there and hid her vehicle on the side of the building under
the awning that appeared to be a private carport. She wanted the
advantage of surprise.

Guess she got it if the,
what-the-heck
? look splattered across his face was any
indication. "Thought we'd should have that little chat you spoke
about," she said.

He glanced over his shoulder toward the
horizon where the sky had turned shades lighter since her arrival.
Sunrise couldn't be far off and Darrien appeared apprehensive at
the prospect, or maybe even fearful. That was silly, wasn't it?

She followed his gaze, but she could see
nothing out of the ordinary. The sky appeared clear with not a hint
of an approaching storm. She tilted her head and peered at him
standing there so strong and sure, and for a moment she imagined
him in the Greek garb she'd seen him wear earlier this evening. He
looked mighty fine in jeans and a T-shirt, but somehow the other
clothing seemed more… him.

He must have sensed her staring at him and he
turned to meet her gaze. His eyes turned bronze then gold. She'd
never seen such unusual eyes, but then she'd never met a shifter
before tonight. Truly she should be frightened or at the very least
uneasy around him, but her intuition told her he wouldn't harm
her.

In his human form, he'd shocked her with his
touch as if he held a live wire, but despite all that, despite the
fact he claimed the Gryphon hunted down thieves, she didn't fear
him.

For the moment, they weren't at battle for
dominance and her gaze slid over him once more. This time she took
her time, admiring his human form with curiosity. The man did have
a nice physique, a cross between the ancient gods she'd seen
depicted in paintings and a poster-boy for marine special-ops. Give
him a nice military haircut and
oor-ah
baby!