“Well now, where did you come from?” She opened her mind, but he gave her no response as usual. The silver-gray beast just rubbed his head against her thigh, encouraging her to stroke along his back. He tried to be content in just being beside her. She was taken aback. Never before had she run across a beast who she could not reach with her mind, whose thoughts she could not read.
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Valya was very careful to shield his thoughts from her. He had heard her in his mind, had felt her probing to communicate. Her openness had almost broken down the walls he had built around his heart waiting for her, waiting until she became a woman. Even now, resisting her pure aroma was challenging. Its scent was changing. Her virgin’s blood flowed with the start of her menstrual cycle. She was becoming a woman, his woman. For the present, she was nothing more than a mere child, innocent, chaste, and unaware of all the danger the world held for her.
Her hand drifted to his chest. She began to rake her nails through his soft fur to reach his skin. It tingled where her fingers touched him. No longer able to sit idly by her side, he ran to the woods, the distance doing little to abate the call of her blood. He stopped at the edge and looked back to Richelle, standing on her feet and reaching out toward him.
She called after him, but he quickly trotted into the forest. He could feel her confusion, her vexation at not being able to talk to him. He turned away, vowing not to return until she had reached her twenty-first birthday. By then, Duncan could teach Richelle what she needed to know about Immortals and Vampyres and the true reason behind her mother’s death.
Duncan and Valya had agreed to tell Richelle when she graduated and then Duncan would teach her the rest.
Years had passed since then. He continued to serve as Guardian, staying far from Iron Mountain, but this night, he could feel there was something wrong with the fabric of fate. He arose from his cavern home and lifted his head to the sky. The scent of death was carried on the night wind. That was not new to him since, as a Guardian, it was his duty to seek out this evil and to protect the innocent. Tonight, the moon had turned to blood and there was a force that was calling him, drawing him from the city.
In a flash he knew where he needed to be—with Richelle.
He took to the sky, and in a blink of an eye, he was at Duncan’s cabin.
Or what was left of it. From the look of things, there must have been one hell of a battle. The repugnant smell of blood and rotting flesh was akin to the war he had fought centuries before. Filled with rage and disgust, he searched for Richelle.
Valya scanned the clearing. The carcasses of several wolves, two mountain lions, and a black bear were decaying, their throats ripped out and gaping wounds at their sides. The ground was torn asunder, the sod and
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plants uprooted and thrown about. His eyes scanned the landscape for any sign of movement. There was a peculiar, creepy silence unnerving him, and the door had been left wide open. Stepping through, he looked about to find no one there.
Where was Duncan? And where was Richelle? He returned to the
clearing and sniffed the air and the ground for any trace of Duncan or Richelle. He found Duncan’s. It was far away.
Valya transformed into the wolf and began the chase, following Duncan’s scent to a river three miles from the cabin where he lay dying.
Transforming as he approached, Valya crouched down on one knee to turn Duncan’s limp body over. Duncan was clinging to life, the flame within him slowly dying, yet he smiled in genuine happiness.
“It is good to see ye, me friend. I dinna want to leave this world without saying farewell.”
“Save your strength, Duncan. I will take you back and heal you.” He leaned over to pick him up, but Duncan shook his head and gurgled.
“No. I dinna want to be healed.”
Valya stared at him in confusion. Duncan had a zest for life and met every challenge head-on. He had never known him to give up so easily.
“Dinna look so unhappy, my old friend. It has been a long time since I have seen my beloved Fiona. She was me one true love. Now I go join her.”
Fiona, Duncan’s wife, had left this life nearly fifty years ago, but had never left Duncan’s thoughts or his heart. Valya nodded in understanding, knowing the near agony he had endured being apart from his life mate. And a new fear gripped at his racing heart.
“Where is Richelle?”
“Gone.” Duncan began to cough furiously as Valya stopped breathing at the one word before Duncan could continue. “She’s gone. She left a few days ago after I told her about her mother, how and why she was murdered.”
“Why did you let her go?”
“I couldna stop her.”
She must have been so frightened, to take off when she had nowhere to go, Valya thought, but she must have gone somewhere. “Where did she go?”
Duncan’s smile fell.
“I dinna know. She wouldna tell me. She went to the bank, withdrew the money left by her mother, and left.”
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“You should have sent word to me.”
Duncan nodded.
Valya felt as if he were being compressed in a vise. Every muscle in his body constricted, and he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. He should have been here. He should have come to her after Richelle graduated. Then he could have been here to protect them, and Richelle would not have run in fear and Duncan would not
be lying in a pool of blood, dying.
“I should have been here,” Valya stated.
“Dinna berate yourself, lad. The Fates have made their decision. There is nothin’ to be done when they select yer thread.”
Duncan mutely nodded. The Fates were impartial and immovable.
Valya also knew that destiny could be changed by turning a different corner, by going left instead of right. Richelle had changed her destiny by leaving.
Duncan started coughing again as Valya held his head up trying to ease his discomfort, his pain. He wished there was more he could
do for him.
“Lissen carefully, me lad. Richelle left before I could tell her everything aboot you, about the Immortals, and the Vampyres. She left because she dinna wanna put me in danger. Do ye understand what I’m sayin’?”
Valya shook his head.
“She dinna know the true danger. She dinna know what her true destiny is. Ye must find her quickly.”
“Do the Vampyres know where she is?”
“Vampyres?” Duncan questioned with his brow furrowed. “’Twas not Vampyres that came here. ’Twas the old priest with His Believers. ’Twas them who came here lookin’ for the lass. The old priest went mad when he couldna find her here. He destroyed the cabin
.
He killed her beloved animals that were protectin’ her home.”
Valya’s fear was minimally dispelled. He thanked the Gods that it wasn’t Vampyres who were coming for Richelle. She would have no defense against them alone, without him. While the old priest was relentless in his pursuit of Richelle, Valya had hidden her well. However, the old priest wouldn’t stop searching for Richelle, and Valya would not rest until Richelle was safely with him as his mate.
“She wouldna tell me where she was goin’. She left a note. She wrote she would be fine and she dinna want me to come lookin’ for her. She dinna want me to worry. As if her bein’ away would stop me from worryin’.” He
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scoffed, laughing before a fit of coughing over took him, leaving him wheezing in its wake. He grasped at Valya’s jacket, pulling himself up, his voice raspy but deathly calm in his request.
“Find her, Valya. I’ve loved that wee lass since you brought her here to me home. I couldna love her less if she were me own daughter. Find her, Valya. Protect her.” He coughed again, the last of his breath
burbling from his throat. With a final gasp, he fell back as death claimed his soul.
Valya reverently laid his friend gently on the ground. He offered up a silent prayer to the Gods that Duncan find peace in the arms of his gentle wife, who had waited so long for him to join her. He hung his head. Twice now he had been too late to save the life of an innocent protecting Richelle.
Twice the life of his mate had been placed in his hands and twice he had failed.
He threw his head back and howled his anguish into the night. The earth trembled at his rage. He would find Richelle. Never again would she have to run and hide in fear. He would find her and claim her as his mate. Then she would never need to fear anything ever again. He would find her. He would not fail again.
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Richelle Sommers shifted uncomfortably in her airplane seat, rubbing her temples with her fingertips to stop the incessant throbbing that had persisted since taking off.
It was more than the claustrophobic sensation of too many people pressed together like sardines in a can.
It was more than the stench emanating from the poor disabled man, sitting in his wheelchair at the head of the aisle, who had urinated on himself during the flight.
It was more than the unwanted attention she was receiving from the businessman seated next to her and his indecent proposal for drinks, and more, when they landed.
She closed her eyes as she leaned her head against the window. She tried to block out the jumbled thoughts of those around her. Faceless voices filled her mind with a flurry of meaningless claptrap that clouded her mind with the incessant ringing of white noise…
I can still make dinner by seven as long as the plane lands on schedule.
I can’t believe Aunt Martha married that man. Can’t she see he’s only
after her for her money?
I’ll simply tell her that we can’t see each other anymore, that we’re just
not right for each other.
Damn that stewardess is hot. I wouldn’t mind joining the mile-high club
with her.
I should have gotten that promotion. That place wouldn’t run if it
weren’t for me spending every weekend in the office.
Richelle had hoped that taking a red-eye flight non-stop from Tampa to Detroit would be a quiet trip. She usually avoided large groups, knowing full well she wouldn’t be able to silence the chaotic ramblings and noise she sensed from the minds of others. But there were times when there was
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absolutely no choice but to endure the inexpressible pain, like now, as she was returning home. Especially when some thoughts were too close for comfort.
Like the lewd interest directed her way by that businessman.
She didn’t have to look at him to know he was watching her every move. She could feel the heat of his gaze and lust in his heart every time she adjusted her seating position to move away from him. And each time he would invade her space a little more. Earlier during the flight, he had tried to make conversation with her, complimenting her on her eyes, her hair, her perfume, bragging about his business conquests, trying to convince her to join him for dinner and, to put his crude invitation delicately, spend the rest of the evening with him.
His seemingly sincere approach was belied by his unspoken and crass thoughts about her looks, and he could do nothing to hide the truth behind his
business
conquests.
They were more like exercises in corporate espionage and sabotage. And as he tried to lure her into his web under the pretense of drinks, he made no mention of the wife and two children he left behind in Tampa visiting her mother to fly back to his office to scam a loan from one of his company’s lenders.
She smiled politely and declined, but he saw her refusal as a challenge.
He became aggressive, ruder in his implications and more vulgar with his remarks. He even became so bold as to lean over to whisper a crude intimation while his hand drifted over her breast, giving it a callous squeeze.
Her skin burned as if frostbit by the winter wind, and it felt as if sharp icicles were driven into her brain.
She turned away from him as much as she could, crossing her arms across her chest and feigning sleep, trying to protect herself. Any other woman would have called for the attendant, but Richelle did what she could not to draw attention to herself. She had learned it was easier to run and hide than it was to stand and fight. While she guarded her body against his touch, her mind wasn’t as he eyed her form, letting his imagination run wild.
Richelle suppressed a shudder as she saw every bawdy act he fantasized.
Her experience with men had been very limited, both because she was uncomfortable around people in general, being a shy and private person, and because a simple touch could cause her excruciating pain physically as well as mentally. So his improper and offensive machinations coupled with his
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hand upon her breast left her in dire need of an escape. And there was none to be had. Groaning, Richelle focused her mind. She tried to clear away the unsolicited interest and all the random thoughts echoing in her head from those around her. In doing so, she was startled by the spoken words that resounded in her ears.
“Are you all right, miss?”
She jerked and turned to see the flight attendant leaning over her annoying suitor. His gaze ineptly drifted to the attendant’s ample chest, temporarily diverting his attention away from her. His lascivious thoughts stabbed into her mind as the stewardess repeated the question.
“Are you all right, miss? Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you,” she croaked, her voice betraying her parched throat.
“It would be no problem, miss,” she said brightly despite the glaring look she threw at the male passenger. “I’ll bring you some water.”
“No, really, I don’t want to be a bother.”
The attendant beamed warmly at her.
“It’s no bother. As a matter of fact, you look a bit pale. Are you feeling all right?”
“No, really…I’m…”
“I think we should move you up front…until you feel better.”