Katie's Hellion (Rhyn Trilogy, Book One) (16 page)

"What, Gabriel?" he said without turning.

"Brought you another book," the death dealer
said, handing it to him.

"Hope it's better than the last."

"This one was written by someone in the human
realm. The other one was from a bitter immortal."

Rhyn accepted the book, glanced at it, and
flung it into the ocean.

"You're right," Gabriel said, unaffected.
"That one was probably bad, too."

"I burned the other one.
How to Train a
Pet Human.
Really, Gabe?"

"It was worth a try. I don't know anything
about them."

"They don't eat fish," Rhyn grunted. "You
never did answer my question about Andre."

"You know I won't."

They stood in silence, watching the waves
fling the book around before sinking it.

"I fucking hate Kris," Rhyn snarled. "I've
been waiting for someone to tell me what to do with this
human."

"She's your mate."

"So why did you insist I protect her? Death
doesn't have something up her sleeve?"

"Death always has all the cards," Gabriel
grunted. "But the woman is yours."

Rhyn frowned, not sure whether he wanted the
woman or not. Gabriel cocked his head to the side and then
shifted.

"Death's calling. Talk later."

He disappeared. Rhyn sat and draped his arms
over his knees, staring at the horizon. He'd been furious when
Katie mentioned Kris. He didn't understand why the self-proclaimed
guardian of humans would drag such a helpless creature into this
web of evil.

He remembered little about how to deal with
humans and nothing of how to deal with their women. The women he
remembered were docile and
silent.
The men of his time had
been harsh with them, and he thought he was doing well by
tolerating her.

Even so, his own conviction to keep what was
his made him uneasy. A human was weak. A human mate was a liability
he couldn't afford.

Yet he'd done what Andre always warned him
about: he'd acted without thinking and affected someone he hadn't
intended to. He'd claimed her as his, and the tattoo around her
neck proved it.

You can't protect someone so fragile from
what's coming.

Maybe there was a way out of it yet. Maybe he
could undo what he'd done.

He dwelled on her scent, the taste of her,
the kiss. He'd never felt such a connection with anyone. The sight
of her being attacked by the lesser immortals infuriated him like
nothing else ever had. He'd wanted to go back and tear apart the
pieces he left.

Maybe there was a part of him that didn't
want to undo whatever he'd done. She was destined for him. His
mate.

He couldn't shake the sense he'd reached the
first challenge in his life he didn't know how to handle. He'd
never been entrusted with anything to care for, not when he was
unable to control his powers.

And now he had a mate who infuriated him as
much as she turned him on.

For the first time in years, he doubted
himself. Could he really protect her, since he was now bound by
Immortal Code to keep her? Or was this another Immortal Code he
dared break, for the sake of another, and take whatever
consequences came his way?

He'd been to Hell. The only thing worse would
be to make him dead-dead.

Rhyn dropped back to stare at the sky. He
wasn't ready to be dead-dead yet, not after all the time he'd spent
in Hell and all the unfinished business he had.

CHAPTER SIX

"Blood puddin’?"

She almost lost her stomach at the innocent
question from the middle-aged matriarch of the bed and
breakfast.

"No, thanks," she managed. "More coffee,
please."

She ate gingerly, her head aching from both
her hangover and her mental breakdown. She’d cried herself
senseless before falling into a sleep too heavy to bring her any
real rest. Five cups of coffee later and a full Irish breakfast
--without the blood pudding --settling in her stomach, she still
couldn’t shake the throb. The breakfast room had cleared out an
hour before, but the patient matriarch kept her coffee cup full and
left her alone.

Because she looked like shit. She knew it.
She wore a jumper that reeked of her own body odor. Her eyes were
puffy and bloodshot, her hair in a half-assed braid.

"I need to get some clothes," she said,
turning to where the woman read her paper. "You know a cheap place
around here?"

"Consignment store down the road."

"Thanks. I’ll bring this back."

She carried the mug with her down the street
to a store that smelled like an attic. The sun was too bright, the
people around her too friendly. She sorted through the clothing,
finding a pair of jeans, another pair of cargo pants, a scarf, and
a few shirts. She paid the cashier with the remainder of her Euros
and returned for a hot shower.

New clothes had never felt so nice, even if
they were used! She wrapped the scarf around her neck and almost
felt normal. The room was straightened and the fish removed, though
the scent of them lingered.

The owner had left a bottle of painkiller and
a snack on the nightstand, and Katie smiled at the first piece of
thoughtfulness she’d received in what felt like a year. The whiskey
she’d asked for. She downed her painkillers with a swig of alcohol.
Before she could take another drink, Rhyn appeared out of nowhere
and snatched the bottle from her.

"What is it with immortals and alcohol?"

He ignored her and tossed it out the opened
window.

"My sister is expecting me to call and then
to actually show up in DC in the next week."

"I don’t give a fuck."

He looked her over and then strode to her
again. She took a step back, but he only snatched the scarf and
flung it, too, out the window.

"I don’t need the reminder every time I look
in the mirror!"

"Not for you. They’ll leave you alone when
they see it," he replied.

"Just like the goons last night?"

He gave her a warning look. "You look like
shit."

"I feel like shit, no thanks to you," she
said, sitting on the bed. "My head hurts, my body hurts, and I was
nearly sliced open before you decided to show up last night."

"You learned what you needed to."

"I already knew you could tear people’s heads
off."

She refused to admit he was right. She had
learned her lesson. He’d find her no matter what, and he wasn’t
going to be swayed by her neck next time. And, he’d slaughter
anyone near his property.

"I’m not chattel," she muttered.

"You are what I say you are."

"No, I’m not. If you want an obedient nymph,
then go get one. You’re stuck with me otherwise."

She thought she heard him grind his teeth and
frowned.

"If you really don’t want me around, why did
you go through that effort to
claim
me?" she asked, crossing
her arms and taking a step toward him. "Why not go get a stupid
nymph, whatever those are?"

In daylight, he was almost approachable.
Almost. He fidgeted with a couple of pens and doodled geometric
shapes similar to those around her neck onto stationery bearing the
seal of the bed and breakfast.

"You freed me. I repaid you by not killing
you."

"That doesn’t explain why you keep me
around."

"I don’t have to," he said, voice lowering
into a growl.

"Those idiots last night said Ancients always
pick the best blood monkeys."

"You were the only one around."

"So, this was an opportunity too good to pass
up and isn’t about getting back at Kris?"

One of the pens in his hands snapped, and she
took a step back. The tension eased from his frame, and he said
with effort, "No."

"The idiots also said that anyone --I assume
monster --can sense me ’cause you did claim me."

"Wouldn’t go out walking alone after dark if
I was you, little girl."

"Then they said I was your mate, because I
bear your mark. I don’t know what --"

Snap. The other pen and pad of paper went
flying out the window. This time the tension didn’t leave his
frame. He rose from his kneeling position and faced her.
Wordlessly, he pointed to a spot on the floor before him.

"You just ate a little while ago!" she
argued.

His eyes flashed, and she hurried to stand
before him with her neck craned back to meet his gaze, toe-to-toe
with the beast. He took her throat in one large hand, his thumb
stroking the sensitive skin of her neck. They locked gazes, his
intense silver eyes boring through her. Last night, after he’d
beheaded the four, she’d innately known he wouldn’t hurt her. Even
when he spoke of replacing her with a nymph. Whatever claim he had
on her, she was more than just a blood monkey, especially when he
had his choice of blood monkeys outside of Hell.

What the fuck did he want from her, if more
than her blood?

She closed her eyes and offered her neck,
surprised to find her pulse quickening in excitement.

"You spit fire one moment and submit the
next," he said, his voice thick with need.

"We are both complex creatures."

She gasped as his fangs pierced her throat.
The pain subsided, replaced by familiar warmth. He didn’t drink
long and sealed the wound after.

"No more whiskey," he snarled, turning
away.

When she opened her eyes, he was gone, and
she was just as confused as ever. She caught her reflection in the
mirror, and the sight of the tattoo around her neck infuriated her.
She strode from the room through the house to the alley to retrieve
what belongings she had.

She was on her way back to her room with the
scarf securely wrapped around her neck and the whiskey that had
fallen mercifully into an outside trash bin without busting when
she felt the change in temperature. Not as severe as traveling
through the shadow world, but close.

She pushed the door to her room open slowly,
surprised to see who awaited her.

"Gabriel?"

He lifted his chin in greeting from his spot
at the table.

"You here to kill me?"

"Nope."

She closed the door. His dark eyes dropped to
the whiskey.

"What is it with whiskey?" she demanded.
"You’re immortal --can’t kill you."

"Mortals need the power of reason to deal
with us. It’s Immortal Code. You have free will."

He took the bottle and tossed it out the
window. This time, she heard it smash.

"A choice?" she echoed. "I haven’t had a
choice yet with you people."

"But if you did, you’d need to be sober."

Was he amused? She couldn’t tell.

"Well, what do you want?"

He offered a hand. She took a step back.

"That’s not a good idea," she said.

"Kris’s orders."

"Why doesn’t he come get me then?"

"I’m not allowed to tell him where you are,"
he said.

"Why not?"

He took her hand.

"We aren’t to interfere in mortal
happenings."

"Bullshit."

Her curse was lost as she was sucked into the
shadow world. She wobbled. Gabriel steadied her. She turned around,
but saw no doorway behind her. Forced to follow, she couldn't help
wondering where the other portals went as he disappeared through
one. She stepped from the shadow world back into her world and
waited for nausea or pain. This time, there was none.

She looked around. They were in a burnt-out
room…with the Arc de Triomphe a short distance away.

She had no good memories of Paris and crossed
her arms. Kris rose from his squat nearby, flanked by Ileana and
Jade. He looked her over intently while she stared speechlessly at
Jade.

Jade withdrew his knife with a warning
look.

"You look awful," she said to Kris. She
wondered what it took for an immortal to look as if he’d been
through Hell and back.

"So do you."

"I went to Hell."

He snorted, then looked back at her when she
didn’t break a smile. His gaze went to Gabriel.

"Hell?"

Gabriel shrugged.

"And you escaped?"

"Long story. Not about to relive it," she
said, crossing her arms. "You dragged me into this shitty
world."

He rubbed his face and glanced at Jade, whose
frown was more pronounced than Ileana’s.

"We’ll talk about it later," Kris said. "I
asked Gabriel to find you days ago. Didn’t realize why it took him
so long. Andre’s dead."

"Oh." She softened. "I’m sorry, Kris."

His gaze lingered on her, as if he smelled
her perfume and was trying hard to identify it.

"You summoned me here. Do you want something
or were you curious if I’d survived the bombing after you all
ditched me?"

"There isn’t a creature in this realm that
talks to me like you do," Kris muttered. "How the fuck did you
survive Hell?"

"Made some friends. Met the devil himself and
decided I’d had enough of this shit. Used my newfound power to
steal a key from some robed freak."

"You met Sasha?" Ileana asked, interested for
the first time.

"Intimately acquainted," she replied, cold
gaze on Kris. "Not a fan of yours, either."

"No one has to like me. My job is to protect
the fate of humanity, and I do it well," he snapped. "You can’t
possibly have somewhere else to be. My brother, Andre, was the
mediator on the Council That Was Seven on which my brothers sat.
World War Three is about to break out and the Council will dissolve
if I don’t introduce the human who’s immune to us."

"You want me to meet the Council?"

"You will meet the Council this evening."

Rhyn’ll be so pissed.
Yet the thought
of the alleged good guys losing the ultimate war because she didn’t
attend a stupid meeting didn’t sit well with her. Her gaze again
went to Jade, who looked ready to pounce. Whatever happened, she
couldn't be alone with him.