The Curse (31 page)

She was going back to him? “Fine!”

“Fine!” She swung around and barreled down his front steps.

He slammed the door, jarring the plate glass in the front window. Skin rippled along his back with the impending change. He fisted his hands and fought for control to keep from bursting out of his human form and shifting into a jaguar. Not with his control in tatters. The jaguar could turn into a mindless animal, bent on whatever urge he wanted to satisfy.

Storm would never shift unless he had full control.

Not around Evalle.

Why hadn’t he just checked the peephole on the door—or the damn camera—and ignored her knock?

Or better yet, why hadn’t he just pulled her inside and kissed her until she couldn’t think about another man?

He didn’t want her to see Isak or any other male. That was so unlike Evalle to begin with. She didn’t go seeking out men.

Storm stopped his stomping back and forth.

She said she’d borrowed a weapon from Nyght, which hadn’t sounded like a romantic interlude. She
had
come to find Storm and even figured out where he lived in spite of the mistyped address.

She might want help hunting Svarts, but that hadn’t been her main reason for coming to his house.

If Evalle really went to see Isak only for a weapon, then seeking me out to talk was a first.

What an idiot he’d been to miss that fact.

He wanted to kick the daylights out of someone’s butt, namely his own. What had happened to the calm he always held around her? He wanted to rewind that conversation and try it again.

She wouldn’t listen to him right now.

Let her walk off her own anger, then he’d go track her down and … tell her what? To stay away from Isak?

And it’s not like I have anything to offer her, not as long as that witch doctor has my soul.

He had to get over this obsession with Evalle.

If she wants Isak, who am I to stop her?

Storm shook his head at himself. As if he could even pretend to be that noble. He wanted Evalle regardless of how many obstacles kept getting thrown in his path.

But what about that kiss with Isak? She’d acted like it had meant nothing. But what else would any woman say when faced with irrational jealousy?

He headed to the shower to clear his head. It was time to make up his mind and either stake a claim or let her go. Once he insured the witch doctor no longer presented a threat to Evalle, he’d be able to make that decision.

She’d had enough pain in her life and he wouldn’t stand in the way of her happiness.

TWENTY-FOUR

W
hy had she ever thought she meant something to Storm?

Evalle pounded her way through inky darkness to the sidewalk in front of his house. She’d parked her bike along the curb two houses down and had made it halfway there when she stopped under a streetlight.

Her heart punched her chest with painful beats.

Why did Storm have to be so hardheaded? She’d meant to fit an apology in there somewhere, but things got all jumbled up. She slapped a hand over her forehead.

That
hadn’t been the way she’d worked things out in her mind on the ride over.

Storm was supposed to open the door and tell her he didn’t like seeing her kissing Isak. Then she’d say she hadn’t meant for that to get out of control. She’d only kissed Isak as a thank-you, not the way she kissed Storm.

Then Storm would have smiled and forgiven her, saying he knew nothing was going on. He’d always been so understanding. What happened? Why hadn’t he pulled her into his arms and soothed her and fixed everything with one of his unforgettable kisses?

That whole yelling part had never been in the script.

She fisted her hands and shook them in the air as she walked three steps back and forth. Go back and try again? No. That seemed too much like groveling.

Yes, she had kissed Isak.

Storm did have reason to be angry.

But not
that
angry.

Why couldn’t she get a computer program that would explain men? She could find out how to write music, how to rebuild her motorcycle engine or how to perform brain surgery somewhere on the Net.

Seemed like someone would have posted
Men 101
.

Or, in her case,
Men for Dummies
.

Her feet started moving back toward Storm’s house, which didn’t mean she intended to see him again so much as she needed to move around and think.

Standing still had never worked for her.

She’d reached his driveway when she realized someone was following her. Glancing around, she sized up the dumpy little guy with thinning hair, accountant glasses and a misfitting dark suit who trudged along in front of the house next to Storm’s.

But energy from someone or something had shimmered across her skin, alerting her of a nonhuman close by.

Nightstalker?

Across the street a craggy, white-haired woman pushed a grocery cart over the uneven sidewalk. She moved along in the world of a bag lady, in no hurry to get anywhere since she had nowhere to go and no one waiting on her.

Evalle had felt like that most of her adult life until Feenix. Until Storm.

The lights were still on in his front room, where a sheer curtain covered a large picture window. If she sat on his front steps and waited a bit, would he eventually come out and sit down, maybe talk to her?

While I’m at it, I might as well hang a sign around my neck that says Pathetic Party
. She would not humiliate herself by sitting there waiting. No, she would not lower—

A growl from behind reached her ears.

She swung around.

The human across the street still meandered along.

But the little business guy dropped his glamour and changed to a huge troll. He had to go over ten feet tall, had demon-yellow eyes and that strange runic
S
scar on his arm.

A Svart troll or a demon? Or door number three? Both.

She stomped her feet to release the blades in her boots.

Had he followed her here? Looked like Storm had been right when he speculated about the Svarts hunting her.

Evalle started to circle around the troll to keep the entire area in view, but a second growl rumbled right behind her as two clawed hands grabbed her arms. Where had the second one been hiding? She head-butted backward, forcing the attacker to lose his grip.

The Svart in front of her charged forward.

No time to worry about that human woman seeing anything. Evalle tossed a kinetic blast at the demon Svart, knocking him back a couple steps. Swinging halfway around, she threw a blast at the second Svart coming at her, satisfied when he skidded twenty feet on his backside.

That was more like it.

Three massive fingers clamped around her throat and lifted her off the ground by her neck. How had the first one moved that quickly? She kicked her boots wildly but the Svart’s long arm held her deadly blades away from him. He walked forward, squeezing the breath out of her.

She swung her arms, backhanding him with her kinetics, but he blocked her hits. That shouldn’t be possible.

Stars danced in her vision. Her head felt as though blood would explode out the top any minute. Her neck muscles compressed until she couldn’t breathe.

She called up her dagger kinetically to her hand, gripped it and swung over her shoulder, stabbing his forearm. He howled. His fingers released her neck.

She sucked hard. Air barely squeezed through.

Had he crushed her windpipe?

Now would be a good time for Isak’s weapon if she hadn’t dropped it off with Trey and the VIPER team.

Holding her throat, she stumbled back away from the troll. He yanked her dagger out of his arm and flung it at her.

She tried to push up a kinetic field to block the hit, but was a second too slow.

The blade struck her deep in the shoulder. She opened her mouth but the scream of pain stayed in her head.

Glass exploded close by.

She stumbled from the hit of the dagger, falling back in slow motion, and landed on the sidewalk.

An enraged black jaguar roared, charging the troll.

No, Storm. He’ll kill you
. But she couldn’t even whisper the words. She clutched her throat and begged for air.

The troll met Storm halfway, lifting arms to slash his sharp claws through the jaguar’s gleaming black coat.

Storm dodged at the last moment, his jaguar form whipping around the back of the troll before the giant could turn. The jaguar leaped up and sank sharp teeth into the troll’s neck, ripping apart skin, muscle and bone. The troll’s head flopped forward with his mouth open in a scream and eyes bulging. The jaguar snarled and ripped the head entirely off, slinging it away and jumping off as the troll went down.

The second troll grabbed Evalle by her arms and started dragging her away. His claws dug into her forearms, ripping flesh open.

New pain slashed through her shoulder. She cried out in her head, unable to gasp for air.

Dark folded in on her. The sound of rage roared past her, then her arms were free as a hideous scream ended in silence.

Someone shouted her name. She wanted to sink into sleep, get away from the agonizing pain stabbing her everywhere. She couldn’t get air, suffocating.

“Evalle, open your eyes. Open. Your. Eyes.”

She blinked twice, looking up at Storm. He had her in his arms, running with her.

Every bounce sent agony racing through her body. Felt as though a fist squeezed her lungs. She ached with the need to draw a breath. Strangling for air, she reached up with her good arm and gripped his neck. Blinding white pain flashed behind her eyes.

“Stay with me,” he ordered, pausing long enough to kick a door open. He walked into a room and lowered her gently onto something soft, a sofa, then knelt next to her.

She grabbed her throat, shaking with the need to breathe. Tears streamed down her face from the pain.

He took her hand away from her throat and held it in his. “Draw on your Alterant like Tristan taught you.”

What? She couldn’t think.

He must have read the word on her lips. “Listen to me. Call up your Alterant. Heal your throat now. You’re turning blue!”

She gripped his hand and turned her energy inward, calling the beast. But she couldn’t shift or the Tribunal …

If she died, would it matter?

Exhaustion pulled at her, offering her sleep if she’d just close her eyes.

“Come on, Evalle, you can do this!” Storm yelled at her, pushing her past the agony. “I won’t let you die.” He started chanting words she didn’t know in a strange voice.

She fought through her panic and tried again to draw on her beast. Cartilage along her forearms popped up, breaking through the skin.

Storm kept chanting and the air around her swirled with strange faces. Native faces. Phantom hands touched her face and arms.

Evalle gritted her teeth and tightened all her muscles, eyes tearing at the pain in her shoulder and throat …

Her beast clawed inside her, threatening to break free, but she held her control and channeled the beast’s power to her throat. Her airway began to expand.

Then she finally drew a breath, gasped, and drew another.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Don’t stop.” Storm’s hoarse voice sounded ragged with worry.

She kept wheezing with gasps of air. Her chest ached, but no longer as much as her shoulder. She looked to the right where her dagger had plunged deep inside her, cutting bone and slicing muscle. That had been the point in having a dagger that worked on nonhumans, but she hadn’t considered the damage it might one day do to her.

Storm stroked her damp brow. “Ready to fix your shoulder?”

She fought down nausea at the idea of his pulling that dagger out.

He put his fingers on the handle. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

When she faced him and nodded, he drew out the blade in one quick move. She arched at the agony of nerves being ripped again. Blood gushed over her arm. Stars swarmed in front of her eyes.

Storm snatched up a pillow and covered the gash, pressing down on it.

She felt herself falling, knew she was starting to black out.

His voice boomed at her. “Wake up, Evalle! Close the damn wound.”

She opened her eyes to the battle face of a warrior.

Storm was trying to save her life and she wasn’t helping. Clenching her jaw, she reached inside again, forcing her beast to the surface. Energy rushed up from her center and spread through all of her limbs, threatening to bring on the change.

She stopped the force just like Tristan had taught her when they were in the jungle weeks ago.

Time crawled by with each beat of her heart until Storm lifted the pillow and inspected her shoulder. He smiled at her. “The wound isn’t completely healed, but it’s closed up. The bone and muscle are redeveloping. You did it.”

He sat back, looking weary as if he’d fought a hundred trolls, and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Storm?” Her voice sounded thin and distant.

He leaned forward quickly, his hand going to her cheek, eyes dark with concern. “Are you hurt somewhere else?”