Evalle and Storm Read online

  Storm had warned her his jaguar also claimed her as mate and had almost taken over his body when she turned up missing in Atlanta.

  Hoyt said, “I’m sorry, Evalle—”

  “Not your fault, Hoyt. Give me a minute. Please.”

  Storm’s jaguar snarled at the guard.

  “Storm.” Her softly spoken word drew him to her quicker than a shout.

  That feral gaze swung back to her. Muscles bunched in his jaguar’s shoulders and black hair tufted behind his neck.

  Was she speaking to her mate or his animal?

  The massive jaguar heaved several hard breaths, expanding his chest each time. Then he lowered his head and moved forward to put his big chin lightly on her left shoulder.

  He inhaled deeply.

  That was her mate reassuring himself she was fine.

  Now that Storm realized she wasn’t in mortal danger, Evalle said, “Hoyt did exactly what I asked of him.”

  A deep growl rumbled.

  She added, “If you want to be mad, be mad at me. I made a mistake. Hoyt did his best to avoid cutting me at all.” Saying more pushed the limits of her ability to sound calm. Warm blood continued to ooze between her fingers, filling the air with a coppery scent. The wound hurt bone deep, but she could have lost the limb.

  Shifting his black head to her right side, the jaguar lowered his nose to where her skin had been slashed. As if the wound wouldn’t upset him enough, thin black lines continued to spread down her bicep.

  In a flash of energy, Storm shifted back to his human form, naked as the day he’d been born. Not that he gave a flip. What man would who walked around in a toned body wrapped with bands of muscle? Plus, Storm lacked the ability to care what anyone thought of him.

  Anyone other than her, and she loved every inch of that man, especially naked.

  Storm reached down to lift her to her feet. Every move hurt, but she held onto her stoic warrior face.

  Failing today had taken a toll on her heart.

  She would not fold in front of him or Hoyt.

  The Belador guard had given her the chance she’d asked for and she wouldn’t fault him for doing his duty when he reported the outcome to Daegan.

  Storm’s rich brown eyes no longer glowed yellow. His gaze swept from her face to her arm with a frown.

  She got ahead of the next problem by saying, “We’ll talk about the lines. I think I know what might be going on.”

  With a look of resignation in place, he rested his palms lightly on her shoulders. On his next breath, he whispered tribal words she’d heard before when he’d healed her in the past. The ones he currently spoke came from his Ashaninka tribe in South America, but he had a few Navajo ones as well, which he’d learned from his father.

  She couldn’t translate what he said, but she recognized the different cadence between the languages.

  Her wound closed, and the pain eased.

  The black lines remained.

  Hoyt cleared his throat, probably feeling as if he imposed on their moment with Storm standing there naked or maybe he’d had enough of this outing.

  Storm looked past Evalle to the warrior. “Sorry, Hoyt.”

  “No problem.”

  Evalle backed out of Storm’s touch. “Give me a minute, please? I’ll meet you at the castle. It’s not far. Okay?”

  He said nothing, probably already forming his argument, so she added, “I promise I will come straight there and avoid any chance of getting hurt. Again.”

  She smiled to show him she did understand.

  For the last few days, she’d been asking for time to work some things out on her own and he’d given it to her.

  He’d reached the end of his patience.

  Releasing a pent-up breath that came out on a long exhale, Storm muttered, “Okay.” He cupped her face and kissed her. Not a crazy wild kiss, but one that told her how much he still hurt for her. Storm had brought love into her world where she’d had nothing. No one could match his patience, but she wanted to be a partner in their relationship.

  Not a constant liability.

  When he ended the kiss, he touched his forehead to hers and gave a gentle warning. “I’ll wait five minutes once I get to the castle.”

  Any other time, she’d mouth off with some wiseass reply about not living on anyone’s timeframe. Instead, she lifted up and kissed his lips.

  Her words came out husky. “Thank you.”

  He smiled at the sound, bumped a quick peck to her forehead and turned for the castle. Ripped muscle moved across his back. He moved with the grace of his big cat on those powerful legs.

  That was all hers.

  Annnd Hoyt was still behind her while she ogled her sexy mate.

  Letting her sore arm drop to hang straight and give the impression it didn’t throb, she walked over to the guard. “Thanks for doing this today. I appreciate the respect you gave my request. Sorry I didn’t move fast enough. We both know I should have been cut far worse if not for your incredible reflexes. I clearly haven’t recovered from ... well, you know.“

  For such a large man, Hoyt had a temperate voice when he wasn’t hell-bent to kill an opponent. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I didn’t injure you beyond repair.” He paused and shook his head at some thought. “You’re doing damn good for having died and come back to life, Evalle. Don’t forget that and how much everyone respects you as a warrior. Give yourself a chance to heal and we’ll try this again. Okay?”

  “Thanks.” She allowed her reply to sound as if she agreed, but she didn’t.

  Hoyt would understand if he knew more, but she had yet to tell Storm what she kept inside.

  Speaking of her overprotective mate, she had to face him next.

  Turning to head for the castle, she glanced back at the spot where she’d left Hoyt standing, which was now empty. He hadn’t teleported since Beladors generally did not posses that ability. He’d vanished silently by tapping into his Belador power.

  One of the Alterant-gryphons, like her, had the ability to teleport but it hadn’t been a natural gift. Tristan gained it from a wicked concoction he’d drank while imprisoned in a jungle.

  Correction. Not like her.

  She could no longer claim being a gryphon, maybe not even an Alterant.

  Of all the things she’d suffered, losing her gryphon hurt beyond description. She wanted an enemy to stomp to the ground, but those responsible were dead.

  The old druid, Garwyli, kept telling her to have faith, that she would have to believe in herself again to recover fully.

  She believed an hour ago.

  Hard to right now.

  She swallowed. Garwyli had worked on her more than once to heal the external scars she’d sustained from battling as a gryphon while in the realm where she’d been captive. She appreciated not having to stare at a reminder of her imprisonment every day, but now she had to figure out how to repair the internal scarring.

  If she told Garwyli her Belador powers were fading, he’d feel as if he’d failed her.

  So would Storm after all he’d done.

  She strolled forward, stepping over downed trees, which seemed odd since the Treoirs controlled everything in this realm.

  Maybe a dead tree made the landscape seem more natural.

  Unlike a dead gryphon.

  How could she convince Daegan to allow her to return to Atlanta?

  She couldn’t walk around in real daylight due to her body’s lethal reaction to sunlight, which meant she’d return to walking the streets of Atlanta at night. Just like before.

  She ran a hand over her damp hair and turned to another problem she had to tackle.

  Bonding.

  Storm believed once they formed a powerful connection, he would be able to help her find her gryphon again.

  Opening a bond meant energy flowing both ways. If his powerful energy traveled toward hers to unite, then what happened if her corrupted energy flowed to him?

  When he explained bonding a while back, he’d sai
d they would be eternally connected.

  She’d asked, “What if I die? Would you die, too?”

  He’d said yes without hesitation.

  She would have too when she only thought about following him into the afterlife.

  As she emerged from the tree line, she searched across the wide field between her and the castle. Storm stood patiently waiting for her.

  Her stomach twisted at her next battle.

  She could no longer avoid discussing the bond.

  CHAPTER 5

  A knife of guilt dug into Evalle’s chest as she avoided meeting Storm’s gaze from where he stood on the castle steps.

  He tracked her like a heat-seeking missile from the moment she stepped into view. Surprisingly, he’d stood firm when she paused halfway across the field to watch the gryphons fly far above her head.

  The giant beasts swooped in and out of puffy clouds floating across a powder-blue sky.

  Garwyli had to be behind Storm staying put and not rushing out to check her wound.

  That druid would forever be dear to her after aiding Evalle to return something precious to Storm—his soul. He reminded her of a grandfather, based on what others had described of theirs.

  She’d never had one, but if she did she’d want him to be like Garwyli. What a kind soul to believe she really could call up her gryphon again.

  At some point, she had to accept the reality she could no longer shift.

  Watching the rhythmic flow of the colorful gryphons move gracefully back and forth mesmerized her.

  Just one more time, she wished to shift again and take flight.

  Her cruel conscience said, Not happening so let it go.

  Not bad. She’d admitted the inevitable to herself and hadn’t fallen into a fetal position.

  A high-pitched screech ripped through the air.

  Her heart pounded wildly. That sounded like Feenix.

  He couldn’t fly that high, could he?

  She recognized the golden-headed gryphon as Bernie. He would never harm Feenix. But that second one, Ixxter, better known as the jerk of the pack, had bullied the others in the past. She’d thought that was behind Ixxter after she’d helped Tristan rescue him from being tortured. He wouldn’t hurt her gargoyle, right?

  Ixxter knew she’d ... her thoughts slammed into each other.

  She’d do what?

  Not a damn thing. She held back a scream of frustration. Then she remembered she could talk to them telepathically.

  She shouted mind-to-mind. Bernie. Is Feenix up there?

  The golden-headed gryphon had been gaining altitude when he swung around and looked down. Evalle?

  Yes! Where is Feenix?

  I told Ixxter not to take him up but ...

  Liar, Ixxter charged in his Slavic accent. You’re the one who said he needed to stretch his wings.

  I’m not the one who took him higher, Bernie argued.

  Don’t be a pussy tattletale, Ixxter accused as his gryphon blindsided Bernie.

  Evalle glanced at Storm who had started down the steps.

  She had to deal with this.

  Storm dealt with enough and this was her territory. Lifting an arm, she held a palm out, asking her mate to wait.

  Storm did, but he didn’t retreat. Just stood there watching with arms crossed.

  Turning her head up, Evalle sent another telepathic message. Where is Feenix, Ixxter?

  Having good time, he sent back.

  Another screech higher up had the hair standing on Evalle’s arms. She would use every last ounce of her energy to bleed that gryphon if anything harmed her gargoyle.

  She sent back. That is not his happy sound, asshole. If you...

  At that moment, a small green shape came spiraling down from way up, passing Bernie and Ixxter.

  Bernie broke free, but he’d never catch Feenix.

  Evalle called up her kinetics and pushed her hands up to slow her baby’s descent.

  Nothing happened.

  Panicked, she screamed telepathically at them, Get Feenix!

  I’m trying, Bernie called back. He’d flipped over and started flapping his wings in a wobbly dive.

  Feenix’s wings weren’t even fanning the air to slow himself. He didn’t look alert.

  Ixxter folded his wings and barreled downward. His larger body dropped like a boulder.

  Evalle yelled, “Feenix, fly! Open your wings.”

  No response.

  Her stomach clenched.

  Seconds slowed to microseconds.

  Too close to the ground, Ixxter spread his black wings that caught wind with a yank, slinging him sideways toward Feenix. A giant claw extended and snatched Feenix out of the air right before Ixxter banked inches above the ground. Flapping hard, he shot up then circled to come back around and land fifty feet away. Covered in black and red feathers, his huge chest heaved hard breaths.

  Evalle ran toward Ixxter’s gryphon. “Feenix!”

  The gryphon lowered Feenix, but Evalle got there to scoop up her gargoyle before he touched the ground.

  She backed away, giving him a little shake. “Come on, baby, wake up.” She could feel his little heart beating and his chest move with fast panting.

  Sounding out of breath, Ixxter spoke in her head. He is not dead. Just disoriented from flying high. Maybe could not breathe or something.

  She flashed the gryphon a look of death.

  What happened to your kinetics, Evalle? You should have saved gargoyle.

  That shoved guilt deeper in her chest. She hadn’t been able to protect Feenix. Words stuck in her throat along with the need to lash out in frustration. She bit down to hold all that back.

  Everyone would panic the minute she sounded upset and come rushing to help.

  Feenix opened his bright orange eyes, pulling her attention back to him.

  “Evalle?” He gave her a gap-toothed smile.

  She could breathe again.

  Feenix looked up and around. “Where ith Bernie?”

  She hugged her gargoyle and Feenix forgot about Bernie. He used a chubby paw to pat her back. “You mith me?”

  Swallowing, she said, “Always.” She pulled him back to face her. “What happened?”

  “I fly.” His eyes glowed with excitement.

  “Why did you sound scared?” She had to ask Feenix questions he could answer with his limited vocabulary.

  He looked up again then back to her with a worried face. “Too high.”

  Ixxter broke in telepathically. That is because he is not familiar with flying so much. You can not keep something with wings locked up.

  That dig cut to the bone, but she managed to hide her reaction. If she sounded defensive, Ixxter would take it as a win.

  Bernie’s silver-feathered gryphon landed and walked to the side between her and Ixxter. Having a golden eagle head marked him as special, thought to be one of the more powerful gryphons until he shifted into a scrawny little guy who feared his own shadow. His rambling voice came into Evalle’s head.

  I’m sorry, Evalle. Feenix kept flying a little higher every time I saw him take off. I thought he might enjoy some exercise, but I didn’t mean for him to go that high.

  Shut up, Bernie, Ixxter cut in. You’re just pissing Evalle off more.

  I’m not the one she’s pissed at, Bernie countered telepathically.

  Both gryphon gazes cut to her.

  She kissed Feenix’s head, careful not to let one of his horns stick her. Then she put him on the ground and turned her fury on Ixxter, who had taken Feenix too high.

  Feenix had not feared gryphons from the first.

  He thought they were big playmates.

  Some might be, but Ixxter thought he knew better than anyone else.

  She would normally be thanking someone for saving her gargoyle, but she wouldn’t rush in with appreciation when Ixxter had been the one to put Feenix at risk.

  She continued with telepathy since these two couldn’t speak out loud in this form. What the hell w
ere you thinking, Ixxter?

  That your gargoyle deserved some freedom.

  That’s not your decision to make, she sent back with a load of anger.

  So is better to keep him locked in box?

  She gave up and shouted out loud at Ixxter. “He’s never been put in a box. He has an entire floor of a building as a playroom.”

  Ixxter’s growl was the only warning before energy pulsed and the black gryphon shifted into a man who towered over her. He wasn’t particularly attractive, but he had a beefed-up body that belonged to a Spartan warrior.

  His gaze skated past her. “You need your hand held?”

  She looked over to see Storm walking her way again.

  Dammit. She shook her head at her mate.

  That didn’t go over well, but Storm paused fifty feet away.

  Adrianna had just climbed the castle steps and stood quietly, taking it all in.

  Guards had paused then shifted their stance as if ready to come to her aid. She appreciated everyone more than they would know, but she could still make her own decisions.

  Everyone tried to keep her calm. They didn’t want to upset her.

  She didn’t want calm. Her body shook with unspent fury. She wanted to bust out her gryphon and teach Ixxter-the-bully a lesson.

  But that wouldn’t happen, would it?

  Turning back to him, she checked on Feenix who had hooked an arm around her leg and nibbled on the tip of one claw.

  “You owe me apology,” Ixxter demanded.

  “What?” Evalle curled her fingers to hide the trembling.

  Too shy to shift in front of women unless he had clothes handy, Bernie could only speak telepathically. You should apologize to Evalle and keep the peace, Ixxter.

  “Shut up, Bernie,” Ixxter said out loud. He hit his chest with his fist when he said, “I save gargoyle and she yells at me.”

  She’d been giving him a chance to explain. “I owe you a fist sandwich, Ixxter.” She crossed her arms. “You should take Bernie’s advice. It would be a nice change to see you act like a normal, uh ... ”

  “Human being? Is that word you look for?” Ixxter sneered. “I am normal for gryphon. I did nothing wrong. Apologize.” His shoulder muscles bulged when he hunched his back and stepped in to meet her.

  Evalle shoved Feenix further behind her and hoped Storm stayed back. She had no intention of fighting Ixxter, but she wanted him to know he couldn’t intimidate her. She might have lost some power and strength, but she still possessed the ability to win a verbal argument.