Warrior Enchanted: The Sons of the Zodiac (11 page)

“Understand so you can protect yourself?”

“From what?”

She’d hazarded a look at his face and couldn’t stop the surge of surprise at the lines that furrowed his forehead. “From me.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me. Or at least you wouldn’t hurt me with your magic.”

Again, Emerson couldn’t fight the sensation that her world was tilting.

How did he manage to do that? Trip her up with his softly spoken words that should have sounded needy but didn’t. Instead, they dragged at her in intense layers of need and want and quiet truth because he wasn’t afraid to put to words that he wanted her in his life.

Why couldn’t he be content to stay an arm’s length away? And why couldn’t she keep her footing with him?

When he said things like that it was like riding a roller coaster at the carnival. She could see her broader surroundings didn’t change, but her view of them just wouldn’t stay constant.

Emerson fought to keep her breathing steady as they continued to run. Pushed through the beginnings of the pain as they moved into what had to be their third mile. “Callie was right about you.”

“I figured out a long time ago that Callie is usually right about everything. But what, specifically, do you think she’s right about?”

“She said not to be fooled by you. That you only look dreamy on the surface.”

Amusement sparked in the green and gold of his irises. “And my still waters run deep?”

“Pretty much.”

“I don’t know about that. I’m a simple guy. I like simple things. A good meal. That cold beer I mentioned.” He shot her a saucy look that nailed her low in the belly. “A hot woman.”

Emerson veered off the dirt path to vary up the run a bit. “If that’s where women rank on your list, no wonder you’re still single.”

Drake’s stride never broke; he just continued to keep pace beside her as they cleared a stretch of path. A large set of boulders framed the edge of their next turn. “I’ll give you the still waters, but—”

Emerson didn’t hear the rest of it as his words were replaced by a rush of air that filled her ears. Before she could react, she lost her footing and felt herself fly through the air.

The lazy calm of their run evaporated as Drake went on high alert, scrambling as fast as his legs would carry him.

One minute Emerson was standing next to him, the very next her body was flying through the air to land on the other side of the boulders they’d nearly cleared.

What the hell was this?

Although the urge to port was strong, if Emerson
was
on the other side of the rocks, he could do more damage if he landed on her. Racing to the edge of the rock formation, he kept his body shielded as he looked down the jagged length.

And felt his heart stop as his gaze took in her still form where she lay sprawled on the ground, a man standing over her. Drake would have known it was a Destroyer without seeing the soulless gaze that greeted him, but the static electricity that snapped and snarled off his form confirmed it.

Destroyers always traveled in pairs, and under normal circumstances he’d bide his time to get the lay of the land. But there was no way he was leaving Emerson there. Without another thought, Drake pushed
his body into a port, re-forming next to her and leaping on the Destroyer the moment his feet hit the ground.

Momentum and sheer, white-hot anger gave him the advantage as Drake slammed the asshole’s head into the rocks. Streams of static electricity flowed through his hands and up his arms, but Drake wouldn’t release his grip.

Wouldn’t let go as he slammed the Destroyer’s head a second time.

The head was the key, Drake knew, and the force of his blows had the body in his hands going limp, the electric charge cutting off abruptly. The kill was quick and had the husk of the Destroyer’s body disintegrating as its life force drained away.

Drake tossed the body aside and sank to his knees to gather Emerson into his arms. As he reached for her, the air grew heavy beside him.

Well, fuck it all. There went his plans to port them both out of the park.

Turning so that he had Emerson behind him but protected with the rocks at her back, Drake faced his attackers. And was surprised when the object of his attention danced like a mad toddler before him.

“Deimos?”

A small pout touched scaly lips as Enyo’s nephew let out a low growl. “It’s Phobos, asshole.”

Drake desperately wanted to shift away from the threat, but the same barrier of protection the rocks created kept him and Emerson firmly in the sphere of Phobos’s life force.

Which meant Drake would risk possibly pulling the
demonic god into the port right along with them if he attempted it.

They were trapped.

Forcing bored calm into his words, Drake reached for Emerson’s thigh, reassured by the feel of her as he stared up at that visage that was perpetually tinged with madness. “You and your brother are both interchangeable as far as I’m concerned. Speaking of the vile little fucker, where is he?”

Irritation bloomed in concert with the insanity, but the taunts did nothing to make Phobos lose focus. The only sign of anger was his increasingly agitated hopping from foot to foot. “We’re hardly interchangeable.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Drake tightened his grip on Emerson’s leg in hopes he could bring her to consciousness, but she still didn’t stir. He wasn’t sure what would have placed attention on her—especially not the attention of one the demon twins—but he was going to find out.

Although not technically demons in the most descriptive sense, the gods of dread and fear were the closest thing they had to actual demons on Mount Olympus. Add in their fierce devotion to their aunt Enyo, and Drake and his brothers had met up with them on more than a few occasions.

“What do you want? Or should I say, what does Enyo want?”

Phobos emitted a sharp giggle. “Aunt Enyo’s not the one who sent me.”

“Who did, then?”

“Unh-unh-unh.” Phobos waved a finger. “Like I’d give you those details.”

“If you won’t tell me who sent you, tell me what you want.”

The worthless piece of shit’s eyes shifted determinedly toward the ground. “She’s awfully pretty.”

Drake shifted to shield her from that lascivious gaze as he kicked out a foot at Phobos to get his attention. “What. Do. You. Want?”

“You’ve got something that doesn’t belong to you.”

The apple?

What would Phobos know of it?

“What are you talking about?”

“Playing dumb isn’t going to help you, Pisces.” The air crackled again as three Destroyers moved up to form a half ring around Phobos.

Drake tried one more squeeze on Emerson’s leg, angry at himself as he knew he’d cause a bruise but desperate to wake her. “It’s not playing dumb if I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Phobos took another step forward, his thugs closing ranks behind him. “Oh, but I think you do. Where’s the apple?”

The air crackled with static electricity as Drake felt the slightest movement behind him.

Was Emerson conscious again?

Her leg quivered under his hand in the slightest movement, and he unclenched his grip just as the Destroyer on Phobos’s left reached forward and emitted a stream of voltage strong enough to reanimate the dead.

Drake fully released Emerson’s leg as he took the hit, unwilling to allow her battered body even a bit of exposure to the current. Clenching his teeth, he fought through the pain, using his own life force to fight it back.

And then the world around them exploded as fire crackled from behind him, traveling like a live wire back toward the Destroyer’s extended hand.

“What the fuck?” Shouts erupted in front of him as the Destroyer who’d been supplying the power reached for his head—which had suddenly erupted in flames—and fell to his knees.

The other two Destroyers fell back in self-preservation, and it was their retreat that gave Drake the break he needed.

“You want to get us the hell out of here?” Emerson hollered at his back.

“Hang on.”

Reaching for her hand, he mentally counted off Phobos’s steps as the god shifted back to holler at his minions. Three…two…

Now!

The world around them evaporated as he and Emerson were spun into the ether.

Finley rubbed at her forehead in time with the screaming chorus of jackhammers that had taken up residence there.

What had she been thinking?

Cracking an eye open, she saw the empty bottle of Screaming Eagle on Grey’s glass coffee table and remembered exactly what she’d been thinking.

The gun and the warehouse. Grey’s sudden arrival and their equally sudden departure. His lips and that kiss.

Even an entire bottle of one of the world’s finest wines couldn’t erase the rich taste of him or the sweet memory of what it felt like to kiss him.

She’d let her guard down. Guzzling down bourbon
followed by wine on an empty stomach and a bloodstream full of adrenaline hadn’t helped the matter.

God, but the man was infuriating, keeping her here and acting like he knew better. The thinly veiled implication that she was his prisoner, despite the plush surroundings and fancy liquor. She’d bet every last ounce of instinct she possessed that he wasn’t a bad man, but it didn’t change the facts.

She was stuck here.

Ignoring the confusing thoughts of a man who was far too compelling a mystery, she shifted gears.

Had she really been set up?

Despite Grey’s insistence she focus there, nothing about it made any sense. Her boss had nothing to gain by feeding her to the wolves, and Melanie had a large case to prosecute that would benefit from whatever could have been learned in the warehouse.

It just didn’t add up.

Frustrated at the lack of movement, she struggled to sit up, the shift not nearly as difficult as she’d expected it to be. And was immediately forced to rethink her cocky self-assurance as the room began spinning.

“You okay?”

She squinted at the cheery voice that greeted her from the office doorway as the subject of her thoughts materialized. “Unless you have some magical hangover remedy behind your back, you can go right back out the way you came.”

“I actually do have something for you.” Grey moved into the room, a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin in his hands. “It’ll hold you until we get some food in you.”

Her stomach growled at the thought of food—
something that was greasy and came out a window, preferably—but even the insistent roll of hunger couldn’t blunt just how good he looked this morning or the fact that her hormones had sat up and taken notice the moment he stepped into the room.

His long legs and trim waist were covered in black slacks—did the man wear anything else? A gray silk shirt hung on his broad frame, the tails untucked. The look was far more unkempt than he usually wore, but she found the contrast enticing.

She also found the slightest bit of evidence that perhaps he wasn’t completely perfect each and every minute of the day oddly endearing. Their fingers brushed as she took the water and aspirin and a bolt of awareness shot through her.

Damn, but she didn’t need this.

Attraction wasn’t often convenient, she knew, but it didn’t usually produce such raw dread in the pit of her stomach.

She liked men. Had enjoyed their company since she’d been allowed to date in the eighth grade. And truth be told, she’d had a man on her arm in the ensuing twenty years pretty much nonstop.

None of them had ever filled her with such supreme confusion.

Or such raw attraction that she had moments where she wondered if she could even stand on her own two legs.

After swallowing the aspirin and downing the glass of water, she looked up at him. “You want to tell me what happened last night?”

“We discussed it last night.”

“No, you neatly avoided my questions last night. I won’t be so easily distracted again.”

“You sure about that?” Grey took a spot next to her on the couch, the warmth of his body a swift reminder she wasn’t immune to him and that she’d need to stay on her guard.

Unwilling to be baited, she shifted and put a few inches between them. “Yes, I’m sure. Now. How about some of those answers you’ve no doubt got hidden up your sleeve?”

“I do have answers, but I can’t give them to you. I just have to ask that you keep what happened last night to yourself.”

“What if I decide I can’t do that?”

He shifted again but didn’t touch her. Instead, his gray eyes bored into hers, his gaze absolutely unwavering. “You have to.”

“Grey, I’ve spent my professional career committed to the truth. I can’t sidestep that just because some thugs put my life in danger last night.”

“It goes way beyond that and you know it.”

“Then help me understand.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Does it matter?” Steel threaded the notes of his deep voice, punctuated with a distinct undertone of stubborn tenacity.

“I won’t stop until I get the answers I’m looking for.”

“Finley, you want answers that fit neatly into the world you live in.”

“And this…situation?” She searched for the right word until she could find a diplomatic solution.

“Does not fit into the world you live in.”

“That’s why you did that fancy jump through space and time?”

When he remained silent, she added, “Are you trying to tell me you’re not really human?”

Her stomach did a slight pitch and roll as she said the words, suddenly afraid of the answer.

What if he
wasn’t
human?

“Hell no.”

She held back a smile at his affront, but wouldn’t let up with the questions. “Then help me understand. You can trust me.”

“You sure about that?”

“Of course.”

“You can honestly tell me what we discuss isn’t going to find its way back to your boss? Or into one of your files?”

The hangover was fading away to be replaced by increasing frustration and not a little bit of anger at his unwillingness to listen to her. “I don’t lie, Grey. I won’t make you false promises, but I can understand the line between information that can help and information that can get someone killed. You can trust me to separate the two.”