Radek’s stomach churned, both at the blackmail demand and Gregor’s likening the two of them. He glanced in the direction of the bed but instead of a corpse he saw himself riding in an open-topped jeep through the wealthiest section of Oakland, his father next to him, witnessing the adulation.
“You’ll have your fun,” Radek said. “But you’ll wait until I tell you another whore can go missing.”
Fifteen
THE sound of chattering teeth dragged Rebekka from the depths of sleep. My teeth, she realized vaguely, still caught in the fog left by utter exhaustion.
She shivered, slowly becoming aware of how cold she was. Tasted the bitterness then. It coated her tongue and instinctively her mind sought to identify it, to link it to the reason she was so cold.
Memory flickered, of repeatedly accepting the wooden cup from Phaedra, drinking the stimulant. Foolish. She was lucky it hadn’t killed her, shutting down her nervous system or causing her heart to fail.
She reached out, finding fur-soft pelts and pulling them over her, snuggling into the warmth they promised as she breathed in the scent of sunshine and rye grass. A hint of fear edged in when the cold deepened and her teeth continued to chatter, but exhaustion was a heavy weight, clouding her mind. Her body’s need for sleep was an anchor she willingly followed, expecting oblivion and gaining it for a time, until images from the healer’s journal came to life, lifting from the pages and becoming real.
Battlefields littered with corpses.
Cities filled with bodies.
At first they were human strangers. But slowly they morphed into Weres.
The prostitutes.
Dorrit.
Levi and Cyrin.
Canino.
Then the cubs and Aryck.
Rebekka woke screaming, panicked, her hands burning and her chest frozen.
Awareness slashed through her, intermingling with the memory of the flamethrowers and men in protective suits. She was calling the diseased from the Barrens to her. Whatever carried it was distant still, but coming.
Blindly she sought the amulet, tossing furs and blankets aside in desperation. She stood as she remembered giving it to Aryck for safekeeping, only realizing she was naked except for her panties when the door crashed open and he entered the cabin.
The alpha and Melina came in after him, then an older man carrying a lantern. By then Rebekka was shaking uncontrollably, her breathing fast and loud. She grabbed a fur and covered herself.
Melina’s derisive laugh was followed by equally cutting words. “All that screaming over an owl?”
The words sent Rebekka’s gaze to the bird fluttering helplessly beneath the open window. It provided the focus she desperately needed for her gift.
The Jaguars might think her frightened in the dark, but she preferred it to their knowing the truth, guessing at the importance of the amulet. They’d kill her if they knew. Or destroy the witch’s protection and chase her back to Oakland like a bomb set to explode in the midst of the human world.
Rebekka eased toward the small owl. She reached with her mind, sending waves of calm. It stopped fluttering, though its breathing was as rapid as hers.
As soon as she touched it the coldness in her chest disappeared, burned away by the flow of healing warmth. It wasn’t as hot or intense as it had been when she touched Aryck or the cubs, but it didn’t need to be.
Her arm hurt, as if bones were shattered there. She knitted the damaged material back together with quick, deft mental strokes, noting it was easier, her thoughts more sharply focused, further proof her gift had been changed when the witches bound the amulet to her with blood.
Rebekka’s pulse raced with thoughts of the red beads, so very much like the ones her demon father wore in his hair. Her hands trembled slightly as she removed them from the owl and it took flight, escaping into the night through the open window.
Cold exploded in Rebekka’s chest. Because she expected it, she didn’t react outwardly to the terror it brought with it.
The threat was still distant, but closer than it had been moments earlier. There was no hiding the scent of fear from the Jaguars.
This far away from human civilization, deep in Were territory, they had no reason to worry about supernatural predators, no reason to close or bar the windows. But they would assume it wasn’t the same for her.
Somehow she managed to keep her voice steady as she turned toward them and said, “I’m sorry I disturbed you with my screams.”
They’d stopped just inside the doorway, not wanting to panic the owl and cause it to further injure itself. Rebekka tightened her grip on the fur and crossed to them, her apparent discomfort over being nearly naked gaining another derisive laugh from Melina.
Rebekka ignored it and reached out, saying to Aryck, “I’d like my necklace back.”
He removed it from his pocket, but instead of handing it to her, he stepped behind her and placed it around her neck. She was acutely aware of heat and scent, of the rub of fur against her skin, not his, but it was suddenly very easy to imagine—
She cut the thought off only to have it return when his fingers lingered at the nape of her neck, stroked, making her tremble in a way that had nothing to do with the faded nightmare images or the icy cold no longer filling her chest.
Heat coursed through her, originating at the place his skin touched hers. It was reminiscent of what had happened when she healed him, flowing like a power rooted in the earth, molten lava capable of burning away the protective shield a lifetime spent in brothels had erected.
She’d seen Aryck naked, but that wasn’t what made her vulnerable where he was concerned. It was his obvious care for the Tiger cub, the gentleness with which he’d bathed Caius in the wash while the boy’s mother rocked, locked in a world of grief.
Rebekka stepped forward, breaking the contact, but not before there was a crack in her defenses. Her nipples hardened and breasts ached. Need pooled in her belly, bringing with it a hastily suppressed fantasy of Aryck’s hand stroking over her abdomen, sliding between her thighs to cup her mound.
She tightened her grip on the fur, created a wall around her emotions. There was no way to hide even the tiniest hint of arousal from Weres.
It wasn’t something she had to worry about at the brothels. Nothing of what she witnessed there stirred anything to life except revulsion and hate and pity.
She made herself face the Jaguars boldly. Melina’s lips twisted in disgust and loathing, while next to her, the lantern in his hands, the older man’s dark eyes captured Rebekka’s. Without the snarling headdress she hadn’t recognized the shaman. But now, just as she had before, she felt as though he was trying to see into the depths of her soul.
“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s okay to leave me.”
Aryck met his father’s gaze and tried to keep any hint of challenge from surfacing. He had no desire to revisit their earlier discussion or his near loss of control. “I’ll remain with Rebekka until she falls asleep.”
Koren’s expression didn’t change, but Aryck still felt his father’s displeasure and worry. If you mate with her, you risk the part of your soul residing with the ancestors.
She’s not in season.
He couldn’t leave her. He didn’t need to look down and see the length of his erection pressed against the front of his pants to know he had already lost part of the battle with himself.
Desiring Rebekka should be impossible for him. She was human, a woman who lived among outcasts. Either should have been enough to cool his blood and keep him away from her. But he’d no more been able to stop his fingers from caressing her neck than he’d been able to stop the fantasies of mounting her, of thrusting into wet heat and clinging welcome and marking her with his teeth as he did it.