Rogue Belador: Belador book 7 (20 page)

“Ah, but you’re wrong. Every time I return after seein’ you there, I’m recharged.”

“Really?”

“I would not lie to ya.”

Guilt pummeled his chest. He’d lie to her, but only to save her. Sleep dragged at him, pulling him down. He could reset his alarm and spend some time with her. “Go sleep, love, and I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

Her eyes brightened. “I don’t feel so tired there. Maybe this time I can convince you to do more than before.” She waggled her eyebrows, flirting with him.

He wanted to hold her so much it physically hurt. It was the one place Macha had not interfered. Could she find them in the dream world if she knew about their meetings? If so, why hadn’t she yet? Macha was not one to respect anyone’s privacy.

But every minute that went by might be the last he’d have with Brina.

If he thought too long on that, it would cripple him.

He would not give up hope until his last breath.

Chapter 19

Storm followed Evalle’s directions to Mattie’s house and parked along the street.

He caught the confused look on Evalle’s face as she took in the empty driveway.

Storm explained, “Faster to leave from out here than a driveway, if necessary, and nobody can block me in.”

“That makes sense. I like the way you think.”

If they were alone, she’d really like what he had in mind, but they had to deal with this first before he could get her where he wanted her... in the middle of their new bed.

She stepped out and surveyed the neighborhood, with its eclectic mix of houses from recent remodels updated for wealthy urbanites, to original structures created of stone and brick that were built close to a century ago. Some of the structures had shingle siding and most of them were tucked in close to one another.

Most, but not Mattie’s. Her quaint, 1930s-era brick home sat on a half acre of land, with a driveway that stretched from the road to a detached garage in the back. A half acre in this area translated into a piece of real estate worth seven figures.

The prestigious Emory University Hospital had been good for property values.

Evalle said, “Mattie’s house looks like it belongs in a fairy tale.”

“Like Hansel and Gretel?” he quipped.

She rolled her eyes.

Storm’s empathic sense picked up nothing unusual, but his survival instinct was telling him to look at the house, and then get Evalle away from here. Or maybe it was just his need to have her alone without carpenters, decorators, or VIPER agents around.

Still, he wouldn’t discount anything he sensed. Someone other than the Medb might be after white witches, but he was suspicious by nature and he could see this being a way to draw Evalle even deeper into the Belador-Medb conflict.

Starting for the house, Evalle said, “I bet the neighbors have no idea who lives among them.”

“I won’t take that bet.” Storm caught up to her and angled past the front porch. “Where’d you say Rowan left the key to the back door?” He disturbed layers of dead leaves as he headed across the front yard, but his empathic senses went haywire when they picked up a decidedly female interest focused on him.

He spun around to face Evalle.

She jerked her gaze up from where she’d been watching his butt. She mumbled, “What? Oh, the key. It’s in a metal box stuck inside the air conditioner.”

Lifting his palms to her face, he leaned in and kissed her, then said, “I’ll let you take the lead next time so
I
get the hot view.”

“Not if I have any say about it,” she teased.

He loved the easy way she had with him. That hadn’t always been the case, and he cherished every smile and touch.

She brushed a lock of hair off his face that had fallen loose from where he had it tied back. She sounded wistful when she said, “I really don’t want to be here now.”

He gave her his wolf smile and slowly moved his hands to her shoulders. “Glad I’m not the only one ready to get naked. I’m so hard just thinking about you, I’m in pain.”

She didn’t blush often, but neither would she be outdone. Her voice dropped to a sexy tone. “In case you need any more incentive, I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Mother of mercy
. “You can’t do that to me unless you want to see how quickly I can get you out of those clothes.”

She laughed. The vixen.

“Think that’s funny?” He dropped his hands to her chest and brushed his thumbs over her nipples.

Her humor fled and she moaned.

He backed away, chuckling.

“No fair,” she accused, quick to catch up.

“Oh, really?” He kept heading toward the back of the house. “You can say that after you said you can’t wait to feel me inside you?” He sighed. “You’ll be the death of me.”

She jogged past him when they reached the corner. He waited as she retrieved the key.

Rowan had confirmed that Mattie’s wards were not in place when she’d come by earlier to check out the house. Storm walked up onto the ten-foot-square back porch and, sure as hell, he didn’t feel any ward. He entered through a mudroom that connected to a kitchen shrouded in shadows. Evalle stayed right with him.

A nightlight had been plugged into a wall socket at the end of the room. With Storm’s jaguar vision and Evalle’s equally sharp night vision, there was no need to turn on lights.

He lifted a photo off a mahogany drop-leaf table shoved against the wall with both leaves down. The photo was of a sweet-faced, elderly woman sitting on the chair positioned at the end of that same table. She was smiling, as though she knew he was here looking for her.

Evalle stepped up. “Rowan left that picture for us.”

She stood still as he moved around, scenting the kitchen. When he finished, he said, “Not picking up any Noirre in here or any Medb scent. Just Rowan and Mattie’s, and a few people I don’t know, but I smell those unknowns on different areas of the kitchen as if they were here for coffee.”

“How did you get Mattie’s?”

“It’s on Oskar.”

“Oh.”

Giving Mattie’s photo a thorough look, he suggested, “Let me go through the rest of the house first to see if I pick up anything else. Why don’t you see what you can find here?”

“Sounds good.”

~*~*~

Evalle poked around through white cabinets filled with well-used baking pans, which sent her mind back to the witch in Hansel and Gretel. But Mother Mattie wouldn’t lure kids here for anything nefarious. Not a white witch, especially one associated with—and protected by—Rowan.

Porcelain figurines of fairies cluttered the counters and any open cranny. The windowsill above the sink held a unicorn, an unfinished clay figure that looked similar to Oskar, and a hobbit trinket.

Mattie collected knickknacks.

Evalle paused to look closely at another photo, but this one was inside a small gold frame. It appeared to be Mattie, around ten years younger, standing with another woman who had her head tilted down, shielding her face from the camera. Mattie had a hand on her friend’s shoulder. The other woman wore a wide-brimmed, red hat that hid everything above her shoulders.

“Who is that, Mattie?” Evalle murmured.

The hat shifted as the woman in the photo lifted her head, revealing a beautiful face with burnished skin and exotic, diamond-blue eyes that sparkled as though struck by sunlight. In a flash, the sparkle changed to a predatory look of threat.

Evalle pulled back, holding that gaze in spite of her mind yelling to disengage.

The hat tilted down and the picture returned to the original static state. Evalle remembered to breathe.

Had the movement in the photo been Fae shenanigans? Was the woman in the red hat Caron?

With nothing else of interest in here, Evalle rubbed her arms and stepped out onto the back porch. A tall privacy fence protected the yard on three sides. Winter had shriveled the garden areas, but Evalle could imagine this place in full bloom.

A greenhouse stood in the back left corner. No witch’s garden would be complete without herbs, and Mattie must keep hers going year-round. Condensation was evident on the inside of the glass from the heat being used.

A bright yellow object the size of a water bottle had been abandoned halfway between the porch and an oak tree that dominated the center of the open space. The more Evalle studied the yellow thing, the more it looked like a plastic toy.

Was that Oskar’s?

Feenix dragged his stuffed alligator everywhere.

Oskar might be more at ease with something of his while he stayed with Evalle and Storm. She took her time surveying the area. That came from years of walking streets brimming with dangerous nonhumans mixed in with the human population.

Leaves had scattered across every surface, but just as many remained on the massive old tree.

After a thorough visual sweep of the area, she stepped down and started across the yard. As she neared the toy, she recognized the shape as a yellow duck with a witch’s hat.

When she bent to pick it up, the toy tumbled in a roll toward the tree.

Oh boy. Had Auntie Caron given that to Oskar so that he’d have something to chase around the yard?

Sighing, Evalle walked under a canopy of branches and reached down.

Energy rippled over her skin.

She whipped upright and kinetically called up her dagger as she did. The handle slapped her palm. Nothing moved in the yard as she turned slowly to look toward the house. She waited to release the blades in her boots, which required stomping. No sudden movements until necessary.

She slowly looked up. Nothing in the tree.

Three feet above her, a branch as thick as her head moved slightly. There was a light wind, but not that much.

What was up there?

Leaves ruffled twelve feet up.

She waited for another move, preparing for whatever jumped out.

Something that felt like a massive hand wrapped her neck and lifted her two feet off the ground. Kicking her feet to unbalance her attacker, she swung her dagger, stabbing blindly. When she finally hit a surface, it was as solid as the tree.

It shook her like a ragdoll. Stars shot across her gaze.

Don’t pass out.

She stabbed again and put kinetic power behind it, driving through some sort of shield.

A gray arm came into view, jutting away from her neck.

Warm liquid dripped down on her. Smelled like sewage.

She might not kill it, but if she made it bleed, this thing would lose its glamour.

Another invisible hand slapped at where she held her dagger embedded in the thing’s flesh. If it had flesh. She couldn’t get a breath to order the dagger to stay put.

Her lungs screamed for air.

She was losing consciousness.

She shoved the dagger back and forth, still kicking her legs to make it as difficult as possible to hold her.

How big
was
this thing?

It made a muffled, mournful sound, and the arm trembled. She had to be cutting muscle, but it still held her tight. Using her other hand, she slapped it with a kinetic fist, banging repeatedly. Black spots flashed in her vision.

To pass out is to die.

It jerked her up to the first row of limbs, practically pulling her head off.

Her heart rate leaped. She needed air. Couldn’t think beyond trying to stay conscious. Adrenaline plowed through her body.

The emerald Storm had attached to her chest with majik warmed.

“Evalle, where are you?” Storm roared.

The point of wearing black clothes was to meld with the darkness, but she’d trade for something white right now.

In her peripheral vision, Storm leaped from the back porch, exploding into a huge black jaguar with fangs the size of her fingers by the time he hit the ground.

She took back all the grief she’d given him over sticking this emerald on her.

Storm launched into the tree, snarling, and slammed into the invisible form as it gashed his side. The smell of fresh blood hit her just as the creature jerked her around.

She grabbed the dagger handle with both hands and reached up, trying to cut through whatever muscle held her. Tears ran from her eyes at the strain. She was making gurgling noises, and everything was getting dim.

It yanked her up again, banging her arm backwards against a limb. Ow.

Her mate attacked, ripping chunks away from an invisible shape that turned gray as Storm tossed the pieces aside.

Wild snarling and growling erupted. The creature struggled to break free of Storm, but still it held her as if ordered to do so even in death.

What kind of beast could do that?

Beast. Damn. She had another weapon.

Evalle called up her Belador warrior form. Her neck expanded, forcing the creature’s fingers to open further. Her biceps and forearms thickened. Then her power jacked up.

The thing howled and hit Storm, knocking him sideways off the higher branch. He flipped in midair like the cat he was, landing surefooted one branch down.

Evalle gripped the arm holding her and wrenched in two directions, snapping bones and ripping muscle. She snatched her dagger out of the thing and shoved it sideways into the heel of the creature’s hand, but its fingers had already let go. She managed to use her kinetics to break the twelve-foot fall so she could land on her feet

It howled a painful sound of agony.

Storm attacked again, leaping higher this time and clawing viciously.

The creature dropped its cloaking, or couldn’t hold it, as it tried to shield the head that Storm had finally found. An oversized horse head, with a ten-foot-tall, human-like body, but this one was covered in short gray fur with blotchy patches of rhino hide.

Had to be related to the dog-thief creature.