Immortal Beloved - Kith & Kynn Book 2 Page 9

  Adrien caught her movements out of the corner of one eye. “You all right?” he asked.

  She wiped at her dripping nose and nodded. “Yes, I think so…” Her voice was shaky, but clear.

  Her date started to squirm. “Tell this goddamned lug to get off me, Cassie,” he demanded.

  Adrien looked to the lady. “You want me to let him go or break his fucking neck?” he asked, quite seriously. “It’s your call. I can snap his little spine like a matchstick.” To get his point clear, he delivered his words with just a bit more pain for emphasis.

  His words brought a vague smile to her face. “Just let the creep go.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. Her reply was unintelligible, but it sounded like a whimpering, “Yes.”

  Adrien stood up, relieving the man of his weight. He gave her date a prod with his heavy boot. “The lady says to get up.”

  Livid with anger, Kevin climbed to his feet. He straightened his clothes, apparently having more concern for his wardrobe than he did his date. “You did the wrong thing, asshole!” he snapped. “You’ll be hearing from my attorney, Cassie. I swear to God I will sue you for every dime you have and then some.”

  “Forget the fucking lawyer,” Adrien barked back, giving a hard jab to Kevin’s chest. “When I get through with your ass, you’ll need a priest to administer last rites.”

  When the man didn’t take the hint and move fast enough, Adrien gave him a helpful shove toward the car. “You heard me,” he growled. “Get in your car and hit the road or I’m going to stomp a mud hole right in the center of you.”

  Backing away, Kevin lifted his hands. “Okay, okay. Give it a rest.” He hurried toward the door, opened it and slid inside. The engine roared to life when he twisted the key. He buzzed down the window. “You’re going to regret this, Cassie. Don’t turn your back, bitch. I will be waiting.” He threw the car into reverse. Tires peeled into the ground, sending a spray of gravel into the air.

  The woman seemed to lose all strength. She crumpled into the grass.

  Adrien hurried over and knelt down, gingerly putting a hand on her shoulder “You okay?”

  She nodded, touched her swollen cheek and grimaced. When she shifted, she seemed to forget her torn blouse. She wore no bra and her breasts were clearly exposed. The tips of her nipples were enticingly taut.

  “Yeah, I think so.” Her trembling hand belied her words. It was clear that she was far from all right.

  Adrien quickly averted his gaze. He took off his heavy leather jacket and put it around her shoulders. “He really knocked you around.”

  “So much for that relationship,” was her sour aside. She gave a grateful smile and drew the jacket closer around her body. “Thanks.” She shivered. “I’m so cold.”

  He shrugged, unexpectedly feeling like a schoolboy. “No problem.” By the light of the nearby lamppost he could see she was a beauty; rich red hair done up in a braided chignon. Stray strands of copper curled around her face and shoulders, giving her the vulnerable guise of a little girl. Her features were classic and Nordic; forehead high, eyes widely spaced, sharp cheekbones, chin gently cleft.

  She looked around the deserted park. “What a way to end the evening. Stuck out in the middle of nowhere with a busted lip.” Tears prickling her eyes, she began to laugh. There was an edge of hysteria in the sound. Shock was beginning to wear off. “How pathetic is that?”

  “I’ll take you to the police station,” Adrien stammered, trying damn hard to put those enticing breasts out of his mind. Now was not the time to be thinking that he’d like to ravish this woman himself, albeit in a gentler, more loving manner. “You can file a report and see a doctor.” His words seemed to snap her back toward reality. She immediately shook her head.

  “No,” she said firmly. She touched her swelling cheek. A bruise was beginning to darken her pale skin. “No doctors. I’m fine. Just take me home, please.”

  “Okay.” He helped her stand, then retrieved her stray pump. She flashed a timid smile and held his arm for balance when she bent to slip it on, giving him a flash of thigh and a sexy lacy garter. He inwardly groaned, immediately squelching his attraction.

  Taking her elbow, he led her around the hedge to where he’d parked. “My motorcycle’s right over here.” A pause as sudden shyness overtook him. No woman had ever turned him into a nervous wreck. This one did. “You don’t mind, do you?” he finished with a stammer.

  Cassie Wilson smiled. “As long as I don’t have to walk all the way back to town in these heels, a three-wheeled wagon would do.”

  Adrien laughed and straddled the hog. He flipped out the kick-start and smashed it down with a heavy boot. The great machine roared to life, thrumming with an animation entirely its own. He turned around, reaching out to help her climb on, almost aching for another look of those sexy legs when she scrambled on. He didn’t mind a bit when her body brushed his, her legs spreading around his body when she settled into the passenger’s seat behind him.

  “Hang on,” he called, pulling in the clutch and downshifting into first gear. The massive machine went into immediate motion when he released the clutch and gave it the gas.

  “Oh, God,” she laughed, half in fear, half in delight as they exited the park and picked up speed on the open highway. “It’s been a long time since I was on one of these things!” She automatically wrapped her arms around his waist. Then, as if all strength had deserted her, she rested her head on his shoulder. Her hands locked around his chest and she hugged him close, as if to silently say that she never wanted to let him go.

  Adrien felt a thousand watt jolt zing like lightning through his entire body. A hitch rose in the back of his throat. Damn. That felt so right, almost as if she belonged there behind him—and would always be there. In his time, he’d taken a lot of women, but he’d never encountered one affecting him so deeply him with just a simple touch. She was just a stranger, someone in need of help. Once he delivered her to her destination, he’d never see her again. It was just as well. He was a man with no immediate future. He had nothing to offer a mate, less to give.

  Still, some other force took control of his tongue. “You’ll be just fine,” he called back, words vanishing in the roar of the engine and billowing wind. “I promise I’ll take care of you.”

  Chapter Eight

  Silence hovered over the earth, poised between dusk and dawn, between waking and sleep. Cool but not unpleasantly chilly, the early morning hours should have been still, touched only by the gentle flow of the earth’s breath. Even the night birds were at rest, heads tucked securely under wing.

  So it was, until a subtle change came into the air. Trouble had arrived, creeping in on silent feet. Where before an atmosphere of peaceful tranquility had reigned, the breeze all of a sudden kicked up, growing stronger as a small orb of light appeared. Hovering mere inches above the ground, the orb grew wider and rounder. Lightning-like tendrils of vapor churned in its core, fighting to break out.

  Without warning, the four winds merged. The orb disintegrated, freeing the strange mist. The fog spread out in undulating waves that seemed to devour the earth. It gave the impression of flow and ebb, radiant bursts of illumination and purple shadow dancing together in a strange synchronicity. An all but invisible pulsation of power surged, parting the veils between the dimensions and a single figure from a more ominous side of existence emerged.

  Morgan Saint-Evanston emerged from the veils. Vapors around him shimmered like frost, but the odd, filtered light cast no shadows. Centering his mind, he lifted a hand, palm out, as though pushing away an invisible force. The strange fog instantly disbursed, leaving not a trace. He quickly glanced around, just to be sure no other eyes watched. As he expected, the park was deserted and he was alone.

  Closing his eyes, he cocked his head to listen to the night, to the sounds of the distant city yet to awaken. Obscurity was his world, disbelief his cloak. To walk among mortals was to wander a blossoming orchard brimmi
ng with fruit. Lives and souls were there for the taking, the tasting. Many creatures haunted the darker side of the dimensions; each fall of darkness luring them out in search of weaker animals to dominate and destroy. Some hunted for the thrill of the chase. Others hunted for blood, flesh or bones to feed the unnatural desires driving them into the herd of mankind.

  Humans were the prey, and many joined the uncounted souls who were food for the insatiable legions of the damned.

  The weak succumbed.

  The strong postponed the inevitable.

  It was the law of an unnatural nature.

  As an entity, Morgan had walked this earth for over twelve hundred years, prowling among the human flock. But he was hardly a wolf in sheep’s clothing. No, he was much more—he was the gatekeeper between natural and supernatural.

  Opening his eyes, he readjusted the strap of the heavy crossbow slung across his back. The medieval weapon was loaded with silver arrows, the serrated tips hard to remove from flesh. That wasn’t his only armament. He was prepared to take down any beast, be it two-legged, four-legged or more. A Beretta FS handgun rode in a shoulder holster concealed by his long coat, along with three sheathed daggers. Death was his profession and he delivered it with a ruthless and emotionless efficiency.

  He slipped a hand into his pocket. Out came his gold cigarette case. He opened it and selected one, lighting it with a gold lighter. True, he didn’t need the lighter, but he also knew when to reign in his psi-kinetic energies and not act like a damned show-off. Immortal did not mean utterly invulnerable. He fought the burn out as much as any other of his kind. He needed to center his concentration on tracking Adrien Roth.

  Cigarette clenched between his teeth, he walked toward the picnic area nearest the lake. This was the place where the vibrations were the strongest. He paused, briefly putting out a hand. A brief smile turned up one corner of his mouth. Roth’s presence was very strong. He could feel the thrumming of energy, the straining of suppressed frustration, anger and strength. Roth was going to be an easy one to track.

  “I feel you, Adrien,” he murmured. “You are close, very close.”

  Every living thing exuded a unique spiritual aura, much in the same way that a body radiated heat. Each person’s 'psychic imprint' was exclusive, belonging only to that individual, just like a fingerprint. He possessed the clairvoyance to sense those energies. He only needed to touch an object that person had handled to pick up the lingering impressions. With just a touch, he knew a person’s whole life forward and backward. It was not an ability he relished—one he used rarely. He’d picked up Adrien’s trail from the letters he’d sent.

  Adrien Roth was a very angry man. His letters had made that more than crystal clear. As an Amhais, he felt he’d been denied an honorable death when Devon and Lilith brought him across into the Kynn realm. His calling was that of watcher and protector. Trouble was, as humans and as watchers, the shadow-stalker did not truly understand that the Kynn were not that much of a threat to the human race. Granted, it was true the Kynn must feed off humans to survive. But for the most part, they were a peaceful race. They killed only to protect themselves. That was an allowable act in the eyes of the council of justices he served. There were far more destructive beasts slithering around on this earth, beasts that moved through the dimensions as others would walk through doors. Those were the dangerous ones; entities who gave no regard to human lives or souls, seeing them only as sacrifices that would enhance their power.

  Past Adrien’s words of rage inscribed on the pages, though, was the great confusion he was suffering. He was finding it difficult to reconcile his past as an Amhais with his present existence as one of the Kynn. He was repulsed by the life even as he was fascinated. Adrien wanted to explore the life further, but the ties of training and belief kept him bound.

  It was a position Morgan could perfectly understand. Though born to the occult, he’d also struggled to reconcile his mind and life around his legacy as an immortal. It would not be stretching the truth to admit that the strain had nearly driven him insane.

  But that was another story.

  Following the psychic currents, Morgan moved around a high hedge. His dark gaze immediately fell on the scuffed ground. He paced the area, making a wide slow circle. Once, twice, three times; clockwise, then counter-clockwise. By the last turn he’d gathered a complete picture of the events occurring there earlier. He frowned, brow wrinkling in consternation. Other unexpected impressions were muddying the psychic atmosphere; one definitely very strongly female. The woman’s was mingling and mixing with Adrien’s, the two seeming to become one for a moment.

  Taking a long drag off his cigarette, he flicked aside the ashes. “Something happened here,” he muttered, pacing the area. Damn! Usually two auras didn’t fuse like this unless…

  Groaning, he smacked his forehead. “I am so blind in my pessimism. How long has it been since I have seen such a perfect blending of souls? Adrien has met his mate.”

  This was something he had not anticipated. He frowned, snuffing out his cigarette in the palm of one hand. The brief burn didn’t even register on his senses. He flicked aside the butt.

  Devon Carnavorn wanted this man dead, as soon as possible. Adrien was hell bent on revenge. Devon claimed to have married his soul mate. Adrien seemed to have encountered his this very evening. It was possible. Very possible. It was believed that there was one perfect mate for every being—whether a day or a millennia separated them, they would for a time however long or brief, find and attain a perfect union.

  He’d once believed he’d found his own life-mate.

  Too bad she divorced me, came the wry mental jab.

  He shrugged. Oh, well. No woman was strong enough to stomach the Grim Reaper as a husband. Some were simply destined to walk alone.

  Or so he believed. Fate, however, chose to keep destiny concealed from all eyes. No one knew for sure how the future would unfold.

  But one could give it a nudge in the correct direction.

  Morgan lit a fresh cigarette. Drawing in a lungful, he exhaled, watching the smoke drift into the air, grow opaque, then vanish completely. The sun peeked over the edge of the earth, reminding him that dawn was near. He sighed. The night never lasted long enough. He reached up, pulling the shades perched on his head back down over his eyes. He was not a worshipper of the sun by any means.

  He departed as he’d arrived, unseen by any human eyes, his words unheard by human ears. Where the winds could go, a skilled conjurer could, too, for it was easy to merge with the air currents. He slipped to the silvery embrace of nothingness, melting into the cool breeze with a soft haunting sigh as his search continued. The wheels in his mind were turning as he harnessed and rode the currents like an eagle at wing.

  Adrien needs a final push toward accepting his existence as one of the Kynn, he thought. He has never had a reason to want to embrace the gift he’s been granted.

  That could change. Perhaps this woman would provide that impetus. A plan was forming, one he would do a little maneuvering to set in motion.

  I would hate to kill a man just for being stubborn.

  Chapter Nine

  Closing the door behind her, Cassie Wilson slid the deadbolt into place. Looking out the window, she couldn’t help smiling when she eased the curtain over to take a peek. The man who’d rescued her from Kevin still sat in the driveway, watching to make sure that she’d made it safely inside. Only when he was sure that she was secure did he put his motorcycle into gear and depart. She’d come to believe that there were no more knights in shining armor to rescue a damsel in distress. She was mistaken.

  Her smile widened. Her knight hadn’t ridden a white horse, rather a battered Harley Davidson that had eaten up a lot of asphalt. It was nice to be proven wrong.

  He’s awfully nice, she thought. Good looking, too. Wonder if he is…

  A frown replaced her smile, mouth turning down. She rested her forehead on the door and closed her eyes. Her face still stung f
rom the blows Kevin had delivered. A raging headache was building behind her eyes. Neither was a good sign that the evening was going to get any better.

  Her mind drifted back to the man who’d so gallantly and unhesitatingly arrived to rescue her. Mmmm. He was undeniably good looking; a lean serious face, clear brown eyes, long dark hair tied back. God, how’d she love to see it down and flowing free. He was sexy, too. She certainly hadn’t failed to notice the way his T-shirt hugged his broad shoulders or the way the material of his tight jeans stretched across his crotch. Tall, lanky, with muscles on all the right places, he was packing quite a cock. She’d relish taking a bite out of that forbidden apple.

  A fierce heat crept into her cheeks even as the flutter of desire took delicious flight in the center of her belly. It had been a long time since she’d encountered a man who truly set her mind and body aflame. She still remembered how incredibly good it felt putting her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. She didn’t know what possessed her to do that, except that it felt like the right thing to do at the time. It seemed as though she’d been on that motorcycle a thousand times before, riding behind that man, savoring the wind in her hair, the buzz of passing countryside under the clear desert sky. For a brief time, she’d experienced a perfect sense of freedom. To have that in her grasp and lose it so quickly was frustrating.

  “I didn’t even get his name,” she swore. The thought flitted through her mind that she’d like to see him again. Like a hummingbird it hesitated to land, instead hovering in perpetual flight, ready to dart out of sight.

  Drawing herself up, she squared her shoulders. “When will you learn, Cassie?” she sighed with a shake of her head. “Men aren’t any good for you.”

  Leaving the foyer for the living room, her eyes roamed over the romantic little dessert that her housekeeper, Marta, had earlier arranged. Set out Japanese-style was a low table brimming with fresh fruit, dark chocolate warming in a fondue pot and a nice bottle of chilled wine. Soft silk pillows and a thick romantic comforter scattered with fresh rose petals were all arranged before an unlit fireplace. She’d planned a romantic evening for two and everything had been progressing well. Or so she believed. That was until Kevin hit her up for a personal loan right in the middle of her shrimp cocktail. He might as well have dashed ice water in her face. She was finally figuring out the truth. Lay your heart out like a rug and men would walk all over it.