Under His Wings (10 page)

“Tamar.”

The low velvet-over-gravel voice was another sensory block
added to the teetering Jenga tower of emotions threatening to topple and crash
down on top of her.

“Yes,” she whispered.

A beat of silence passed.

“You’re making this so fucking hard.”

Her head snapped up and she immediately wished she’d kept
her chin ducked, kept her attention trained on his throat. Her caution came too
late. The amethyst fire in his gaze razed to the ground every reason why she
must maintain distance between them. Nothing made sense except for the lust
that flared in his eyes like the hottest bonfire.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, ripping her gaze away from his
and giving her head—and libido—a good, hard shake.
Get it together. One plus
one equals two. E equals MC². Dick equals disaster.
“What did you say?”

“I wanted to know if you were up for a walk.”

Oh damn. She hated that leap of joy in her heart. Especially
since it had nothing to do with a love of nature and everything to do with
spending more time with Nicolai.

Just say no. Keep your distance. Tell him no thank you
and walk away…

“Okay.”
Damn!
“Let me go change and I’ll meet you
back here in ten minutes.”

He nodded and, as she climbed the steps to the second level,
his searing stare heated her back, ass, legs. Her gut clenched.

God, she should have her head examined. Only someone a few
bricks short of a load would willingly walk into the lion’s den.

Fifteen minutes later as they strolled side by side through
the breathtaking Berkshire woods, Tamar decided yes indeed-y she was a few
bricks short of a load.

She sighed. An early afternoon walk should have been
innocent. A harmless little hi—
God
. The sun’s rays just
gleamed
on his skin. As if the beams fought to break through the trees’ thick branches
just for the privilege of caressing him.

Shit
. She kicked at a leaf in her path.

This stroll was as harmless as a round-house kick to the
gonads.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his arm brushing
her shoulder.

“Bricks and balls.”

Silence. “Sounds…fascinating.”

A shaft of humor pierced the black cloud hanging over her
head. “That was diplomatic.” Tipping her head back, she released another sigh.
The magnificent, towering trees, their branches heavy with vibrant green
leaves, mesmerized her.Craggy rocks in the distance touched the sky.
The brilliant canopy of color along with the hushed quiet reminded her of a
cathedral—God’s special place of worship right out here in the middle of His
creation. “I wish Mom could have seen this.”

“Could have?” Nicolai asked. “Your mother’s gone?”

“Yes.” Tamar nodded and a familiar pang of sorrow, dimmed
with time but still present, resonated in her chest. “Eight years now.” That
sounded like a long time ago, but sometimes when the house echoed with
screaming silence and loneliness, it seemed like weeks had passed instead of
years. “She loved nature. Flowers, plants, gardening. She could spend hours in
our backyard puttering around in her garden. Yeah,” she murmured, “she would’ve
loved this.”

Nicolai shifted closer and a warm, comforting palm settled
on the small of her back.

“Our people believe when our loved ones pass on they travel
to Eirene, a place of rest and peace. It’s a beautiful garden of eternal spring
where flowers bloom and fruit bends the tree branches. The river never ceases
to flow with the sweetest water and the sun shines in perpetual day.” He paused
for a long moment and Tamar wondered if he thought of his wife and whether she
dwelled in this land of beauty. “Maybe your heaven is like Eirene and your
mother is enjoying this beauty every day.”

Far above them a bird chirped and another answered its call.
A breeze rustled the leaves and Tamar imagined her mother as she’d been before
the unexpected lethal bout of pneumonia. Her tall figure bent under one of her
beloved rose bushes, brown hair pulled back into a tidy bun. A lovely smile
curved her lips even as sweat dotted her forehead. Yes, this was the image she
would carry of her mother from now on. Toiling in eternal spring gardens with
that beautiful smile—not connected to beeping machines, her caramel skin dark
against the stark white hospital sheets.

She cleared her throat. Batted away an imaginary insect and
rubbed her stinging eyes. “Are your parents still alive?” she asked,
surrendering to the desire to learn more about him.

He skimmed a light caress up her back and loosely clasped
her neck. A tingling heat set up under her skin where his palm rested. She
sucked in a breath, held it and willed her knees to remain steady.

“Yes,” he replied. “They live in Patros, our kingdom and
homeland. A good number of our people still reside there.”

“Patros,” she murmured, savoring the foreign name. “Where is
it located?”

“Greece. Where we originated.”

“You’re a bit far from home.”

“Not really.” He shrugged a shoulder, started a gentle
massage. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, trapping a moan behind them. “I
have a home off the coast of Washington.”

“That’s, uh…” Her voice faltered under the pleasure of his
touch. “That’s still quite a distance from your family. But then I guess being
the…what did you call it?”

“
Dimios
.”

“Right. Being the
Dimios
doesn’t permit much time for
visits.” He made a non-committal grunt but her curiosity had been piqued. “How
do your parents feel about your being ‘the law’?” she asked, doing her best
imitation of Sly Stallone’s
Judge Dredd
.

Nicolai’s lips quirked at the corner in an almost-smile. How
’bout that? Apparently hippogryphs had Netflix.

“Since my father appointed me to the role, I’m guessing he
was fine with it.”

Surprise reverberated through her.

She gaped at him. “Your father willingly sent you after
dangerous, homicidal nutcases?”

Again he shrugged and, with the hand that wasn’t kneading
her neck, scraped the hair back from his forehead. “Being the
Dimios
is
an honor. There’s no greater satisfaction than knowing your purpose is to
serve.”

“Was that your goal in life? Did you always want to be
like,” she twirled her fingers in the air as if conjuring up the correct term,
“the defender of your race.”

“Each hippogryph is born with certain gifts. Even among my
people I had enormous strength and speed. When the time came to choose a new
Dimios
,
it seemed a fated decision I compete for the role. There was some opposition
given my rank, but I wanted it.”

“Your rank?”

“My father is the king of our people.”

Another bolt of shock struck her and Tamar skidded to a
stop. His hand fell away from her as she faced him, fists propped on her hips.

“You’re a freakin’ prince?”

He arched an eyebrow, amusement lighting his violet eyes.
“That’s what the son of a king is usually called.”

She shook her head, amazed. All she desired was safety,
stability and a whole lot of boring after the most harrowing three years of her
life. And every day he
chose
to fly—literally—into danger.

“Why?” she asked. “Why take this risk with your life when
you’re a prince? I don’t get it.”

He studied her with his quiet, intent gaze. “Since my
father’s the king, I should sit on my ass and do nothing? Let other people take
the risk even though I have the ability and gift? As if my life is more
important just because of my lineage?”

When she pictured him grappling with Evander, slamming into
the brick wall… Envisioned the scar on his shoulder that had once been a
vicious wound, her soul screamed
yes
! But if he had succumbed to that
kind of egotism, Nicolai wouldn’t be the winged warrior and lover she’d come to
know in her dreams.

Brave. Selfless. Tender. A protector.

“I think,” she said, “that even after all of this is over, I
will worry about you.” She lifted her arm, hesitated, then gave in to the need
to cup his jaw and stroke her thumb over the patch of skin beneath his full
lower lip.

His pupils contracted, enlarged until the iris disappeared,
swallowed by the wide dark-purple center. Gazing into the unblinking stare,
Tamar no longer peered into the eyes of the man, but the hippogryph.

A new, scary desire pounded in her chest. One she refused to
back down from.

Her heart took up a rapid air-stealing tattoo as she shifted
away several steps. Her arm dropped to her side but their eyes remained
connected—woman to beast. This was the other side of him. The animal that
terrified and fascinated her. But both were Nicolai. And in her heart, she knew
neither would harm a hated curl on her head.

Inhaling, she gathered her courage in her trembling fingers
and poked her hand in the proverbial lion’s cage.

“Show me,” she whispered. “Change for me.”

His head cocked to the side and there was nothing human in
the sharp gesture. “Are you sure?” he murmured.

Excitement raced through her veins, pounded in her blood.
“Yes.”

He continued to scrutinize her. Then, as if something he saw
convinced him of her certainty, he nodded and moved back, increasing the space
between them.

The change occurred in a second—but that second lasted an
eon.

It was straight out of a horror movie…and a fairy tale.

Bone popped, jutting and bulging under his skin before
caving in on itself to stretch and contort. His body bent. The strong line of
his spine lengthened, curved. His head lowered, rounded and an explosion of
brown burst behind the crown, a lion’s mane of feathers. Her breath caught in
her lungs, trapped, as her gaze traveled the creamy white that stretched over
the hippogryph’s breast and the underside of its wings. A rich chocolate-brown
covered the rest of its body—the head, neck, flight feathers. Even its equestrian
back, hind legs and tail shared the luxuriant color. The only exceptions were
its powerful bright-yellow forelegs and talons.

It was frightening.

Strange.

Majestic.

Beautiful.

Awed, she crossed the distance that separated them. The last
time she’d seen him in this form he’d been planted in the middle of a street,
blocking her escape. She’d been on edge and intimidated. But now…

With trembling fingers, she reached out and then halted
inches from its sleek head, hesitant to touch something so powerful. It seemed
almost…blasphemous.

The hippogryph bowed its regal head. And observed her out of
Nicolai’s intelligent eyes.

She gasped. Of course she realized man and beast were one
and the same. But to meet his beautiful eyes in the face of the eagle. It supplied
her with the courage to stroke the smooth, glossy head. To ruffle the splendid
crest. Tunnel her fingers through the thick, downy plumage of its—
his
—breast.

And the wings…
God
. She sighed. They easily spanned
the width of the path, touching the trees bordering the trail. Their beauty was
awe-inspiring and intimidating at once. A smile broke free, straight from her
heart, as she brushed the chocolate-dipped-in-cream feathers. She recognized
them instantly. They’d cradled her close, sheltered her.

“You’re so gorgeous,” she murmured and chuckled softly as he
settled back on his hind legs and seemed to preen under her compliment.

He shuffled back and the small movement caused a stream of
wind to swirl around her.
Wow.
She pushed her hair back from her face
with both hands. Being around him must’ve been something like standing downwind
from a helicopter’s propellers.

He kneeled and his head bent in the imitation of a bow. His
great wings spread wide on the forest floor—as huge as those of a plane.

Lavender eyes met hers and, with a slight jerk of his head,
he gestured for her to come nearer. To climb up on his lowered back.

A fierce yearning seized her. It clutched her chest, twisted
her stomach. She could see herself stepping onto his wing and hoisting onto his
back, digging her fingers into that grand mane. Excitement raced through her
blood as if even now he rose in the air, soared into the blue sky above with
her holding on, taking the ride of a lifetime. Tamar stepped forward…then
stopped. Terrifying pain-filled images bombarded her. A black rumbling sky,
horrible shaking, the wail of air and whine of failing engines. Awful stygian
darkness. Pain. Such pain.

With a small whimper, she squeezed her eyes closed as if she
could shut the flashing nightmare out of her mind.
Stop!

She stumbled backward, her arm stretched in front of her,
palm up. Her heart hammered away and air whistled between her parted lips.

Velvet nudged her hand, rubbing against it.

She pried her eyes open. The hippogryph’s head stroked her
palm. When their gazes connected, he moved closer and her hand slid down his
neck. Her fingers burrowed in his thick plumage. Unable to resist the offer of
comfort, she shifted closer, rubbing her cheek over the soft white on his
chest.

“You make me wish I was different,” she whispered, a wistful
note in her voice. “Make me wish I was the woman I once was…” She sighed,
regret a gaping hole in her soul. “Why couldn’t I have met you when I was whole
and not afraid of every damn thing?”

Electricity sizzled and sparked over her and, in the next
instant, skin replaced feathers. Arms took the place of wings. A glance down
revealed he’d clothed himself in a pair of jeans, but his arms, chest and feet
remained bare.

Human or hippogryph, Nicolai was magnificent.

They didn’t speak, didn’t move.

He just held her.

And in the sun-dappled forest with magic surrounding her,
the comfort and strength in his embrace was enough.