Mystical Seduction: full-length sensual paranormal romance (The Protectors) (13 page)

Running had been the only option Horace had given her. She
swiped at an errant tear. She would not let herself cry. No matter how her
heart hurt, she would not cry.

What she felt for Horace, that was an illusion. Just like
that brick wall that had turned into a café door. An illusion. And she hadn’t
been waiting for Horace all her life. That, too, had been an illusion. She’d
created that sweet fairytale for herself to keep from falling in love—from
trusting. She’d been lonely. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that someone as
charming as Horace would have fallen into her fairytale’s role of hero.

There were no fairytales in this world. No princes waiting
to sweep her off her feet.

Only predators.

Shadows.

Strange men with seductive powers.

It was time to wake up and accept the truth. No matter how
hard she pretended, she wasn’t and would never be a fairytale princess with a
happy ending just waiting to happen.

Now that was something worth crying over.

* * * *

“You frightened her away!” Horace shouted at Brendan, who
still lay sprawled flat on his back near the door. “What the hell were you
trying to do?”

“Keep her from running,” Brendan grumbled. He rubbed the
back of his head. Dallas knelt down beside him and put her hand on his chest.
“I didn’t expect she’d try to fry my brains like that.”

“She’s terrified, of course she would want to run,” Dallas
said.

“She can’t be out there alone. I need to find her,” Horace
said as he started for the shattered door.

“Let me go after her.” Dallas jumped to her feet and blocked
Horace from leaving. “The last thing she needs is to see you right now. I’ll
watch over her and make sure she’s safe.”

Horace gave a reluctant nod and sank into the nearest chair.

Brendan’s rifling through his mind like that had been
nothing short of a psychic attack. And like a psychic attack, it had sapped
nearly all his strength.

“Thanks for the concern,” Brendan growled in Horace’s
direction while Stone helped Brendan to his feet. “By the way, plowing through
your memories wasn’t a pleasure trip for me, either.” He rubbed the back of his
head some more while scowling. He only paused in his misery long enough to
share a quick smile with Dallas as she disappeared in a blur of speed. Horace
had never seen her move so quickly. Another side-benefit of her marriage to
Brendan? Their powers appeared to be growing stronger every day.

Seeing his friend so happy pricked his heart. He’d never be
able find a similar kind of happiness for himself, because—

Before Horace could even try and finish that thought, Kara
draped her arms around his neck in a purely possessive move. But Horace didn’t
have the energy to push her away.

“Why would you want to waste your time with her?” she purred
in his ear.

“Why do you ask it like that?”

“She’s a pampered pet, that’s why. Been coddled and spoiled
all her life by her loving family. Personally, I’ve got no use for such
things.”

“I don’t know,” he said. A slow smile spread across his lips
as he pictured a jeweled collar around Faith’s neck, and her luxuriating on a
velvet pillow. Preferably, the pillow would be on his bed. “A man could enjoy
having someone like her as a pet—pampered and happy.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t have her. And even if he could,
he’d want her for more than just a pet. He’d gladly welcome her as a partner in
his life.

But no matter how hard he wished for it—for her—he couldn’t
change who or what he was.

He was supposed to be alone. Forever. Only then could he
hope to keep…
what
?

He suddenly wished those memories he’d spent the last four
years running from would return.

“It’s too late,” Ballou said, though his lips didn’t move. He
came from a race of telepathic warriors and lived too much of his life in his
thoughts. The ability to speak aloud was quickly becoming lost to his kind.
“He’s found his mate. Coupled with her again. His seed is surely growing in her
womb as we speak.”

“The royal seed,” Prince Manelin added. He drummed his
fingers on the arm of the white leather wingback chair. His gaze turned to the
wall of windows in his rented penthouse apartment that overlooked the Chicago
skyline. He hated living with the humans. The sooner Ballou succeeded, the
sooner Manelin could escape the metal and steel city that smelled like a
graveyard.

It wasn’t exactly regicide, Manelin reminded himself. The
Lion had been created, transformed from one creature to another to suit the
laws of the royal sages. The bastard hadn’t been born of royal blood nor reared
to inherit the throne.

“What happened this time?” Manelin asked, growing tired of
the whole affair. “Why isn’t the bastard dead? I thought you’d told me that
you’d killed him.”

The Lion didn’t want the throne. He’d run away from his
destiny. Run back to earth. The fool.

The crown and throne should belong to Manelin by now.

King Manelin, ruler of the mystical realm. The title had a
predestined ring to it.

The laws regarding these things were impossible. As long as
the Lion or his progeny lived, Manelin was blocked from taking the throne, the
crown, or the title. Even though the Lion had turned his back on his position,
even though he refused to be king leaving all the heavy-lifting to Manelin, it
was the Lion who was still considered leader of the mystical realm.

The Lion. He was a middling coward who Manelin should have
taken care of years ago.

The Protectors
were inferior creatures. They knew so
little about themselves or their destinies. They were as dense as the
diamond-studded stones hidden behind the mystical golden waterfalls. How could
one of
them
have been chosen as supreme ruler in the first place?

“It was the girl,” Ballou said. “Joining with her must have
bolstered the Lion’s powers. I shot him last night in the alleyway behind his
bar. He should have died. He
deserved
to die.” His face grew flushed
with emotion. “He was fucking her next to the dumpster. Like she was a whore.
Today he had her naked in the middle of his nightclub.”

He drew a long, unsteady breath. And then—
amazingly
—spoke
out loud, “How could he treat her like that?”

“He is the king. Everyone is below him…even her,” Manelin
said with the flick of his wrist. But this turn of events had him worried.

The sages had warned that the king would find his mate and
return stronger and more powerful than ever. This had to stop, or else Manelin
would never win the throne. And being chosen as second in line never had sat
well with him.

Manelin was a faerie. And the fey were second to no one,
especially not to a creature that was lowlier than a dog.

“I didn’t like it. She is his queen,” Ballou said, his lips
moving quickly now. “I shot him. Used one of those primitive human weapons,
just as you had instructed,” he said with a sneer. “It caused a great deal of
damage. The Lion was dying, bleeding to death when I left him. But today he is
alive. And today he had a powerful friend banish me to the netherworld. Being
tossed out of this realm like that hurts like hell, you know.”

“So, you will try again?”

Ballou nodded. “I could crush him right now if you’d let me
use my powers.”

“No!” Manelin couldn’t allow that. “If you use your magic,
the elders will investigate. Their deaths can’t lead back to me. It has to look
as if a human killed them.”

“The child—if there is one—will never know of its
importance,” Ballou pointed out. “ If the king doesn’t remember his coronation,
there is no reason to kill the girl.”

“In order to take the throne, I need his mate dead.” Manelin
didn’t understand his assassin’s reluctance. Ballou had carried out the
execution of entire civilizations. Why worry over one more life?

After a long pause, Ballou nodded again. “Very well. I will
do my duty. Consider them both dead.”

* * * *

“Kimmi, Kimmi, Kimmi, this is a disaster.” Faith buried her
head in her hands. It took all her willpower to keep from bursting into tears
again. “This is the first and last time I will ever throw myself at a man.”

After running down several long blocks, Faith had run out of
energy and had gotten completely turned around on the Chicago streets. In
desperation, she did what she should have done in the first place. She phoned
Kimmi.

Her friend had immediately left her office at the university
and drove across town to rescue Faith. On top of that, she’d treated Faith to a
late lunch at their favorite restaurant, a little family-run French bistro.

“Do you need more time before ordering?” she heard the
waitress whisper.

“Yes, please just bring us some more coffee,” Kimmi said in
the hushed voice she used only when they went to the library or the ballet. And
then, after a pause, she petted Faith’s head. “He looked so
normal
. I
can’t believe it. I mean, I do believe it, because you’re telling it to me and
all…but I can’t believe he’d do something like that to you.”

“Well, it’s true.” She’d told Kimmi the basics. Nothing
about Horace not being human, but the rest, about the marks and his attempt to
control her. “All of it is true.”

“How kinky,” Kimmi purred. “Are you sure you’re not tempted
to—?”

“This isn’t a game. They mean to make me their…” She glanced
around to make sure no one was listening and lowered her voice. “They mean to
make me a sex slave.”

“Well, the solution is simple. You’ll have to stay away from
him.”

“But what if I can’t?”

What if Horace had the power to summon her from a distance?
What if she couldn’t untangle her own desires from his?

What if she didn’t want to stay away?

“It’s the losing myself that worries me the most,” she
admitted.

Kimmi took Faith’s hands in her own and held on tightly.
“Don’t worry. We’ll work this out together.”

They both ordered salads. Kimmi talked Faith into getting a
glass of wine. It hadn’t taken too much arm-twisting.

The food at the bistro was always delicious, but today the
salad tasted especially good. Faith hadn’t realized how hungry she was until
she took her first bite of the crisp greens piled on her plate and savored the
tangy dressing. She’d skipped both breakfast and lunch. For her, that was
terribly out of character. She never skipped meals.

She also didn’t get herself involved with one-night-stands. Overnight,
her life had turned upside-down thanks to this attraction to Horace West that
she’d hadn’t been able to deny. If he’d been human, he would have been her
perfect soul mate. He was smart, ambitious, and he treated her kindly—when he
wasn’t trying to press his mind controlling powers on her.

But he wasn’t human.

He was a monster.

Faith sighed as she sopped up the last bit of her salad
dressing with a chunk of crusty French bread. It hadn’t taken her long to
finish off the salad. And she had only a little bit of red wine left in her
glass.

“You might as well finish it,” Kimmi said. “Hell, you look
as if you could use something stronger.”

“Today I’m almost inclined to agree with you,” Faith said
with a weak laugh as she reached for the glass.

It shattered. She hadn’t even touched it. But still, the
glass shattered.

“What the hell?” Kimmi asked, looking around. “Did something
hit the glass? Did you see what it was? All I saw was a flash.” She turned her
gaze up. “Did something fall from the ceiling?”

Faith curled her fingers into a tight fist.

Nothing had fallen from the ceiling. Dread grew in the pit
of her stomach. Thanks to whatever Horace had done to her, she could now break
glasses without touching them. She didn’t want to think about what else she
might shatter with this strange power that had infected her.

“It was nothing. An accident,” Faith said quickly.

“But you didn’t even…” Kimmi’s eyes grew wide, and she
pushed back from the table. “Faith…you’re glowing.”

“What?” She looked at herself in the reflection of the white
ceramic plate sitting on the table in front of her. There was a slight golden
glow resembling a halo ringing her head. Her hands began to tremble. “Great.
Great. This is just what I don’t need. This is his fault. He’s doing this to
me.”

“Who? Horace? How? I don’t understand.”

“I bet this is his way of getting me to come back to him.”

Faith jumped up from her chair, knocking it over. “I’ve
gotta get out of here.” She didn’t know how to control the changes happening to
her. If she stayed she might accidentally hurt Kimmi in the same way she’d hurt
Brendan. “Sorry about the lunch.”

“Wait!” Kimmi tried to chase after Faith, but the waitress
stepped in the way. “What’s going on?” Kimmi shouted as she tried,
unsuccessfully, to sidestep the waitress. “What are you going to do?”

What was she going to do?

Good question.

Stay away from Horace, she supposed. Though the thought of
never seeing him again crushed against her heart. Love wasn’t supposed to hurt
like this. Her parents were in love, and their relationship was nearly perfect.
They were comfortable with each other. Happy.

They knew how to handle a powerful relationship. And then it
hit her.

Her parents. They’d traveled the world and had lived through
some scary shit.

Perhaps they could help her figure this all out.

* * * *

Faith steered her old Honda into the driveway of her
parents’lavish Frank Lloyd Wright inspired prairie-style home on the edge of
Oak Park just as her mom had been pulling out of the driveway.

Growing up, Faith had spent very little time at this house.
But seeing the lazy wide overhangs, the aging redwood, and the rugged stone
siding still made her feel warm inside. The cedar-laden air outside the house
smelled like Christmas to Faith. Her parents tried to always get back to the
states for the winter holidays. The modern conveniences, like a bathroom with a
toilet that flushed and hot and cold running water, had been as exciting as any
toy that Santa could have brought her.