Binding Ties (29 page)

J
oseph wasn't breathing.

Panic engulfed Lyka, making her shake so hard, she was kicking up dust under her paws.

She didn't know what to do to save his life, but she knew she had to.

She loved him. She couldn't let him go. Not before she at least had the chance to tell him how she felt.

She'd been an idiot not to see it before. It had been huddled there, cowering inside her, afraid to make itself known. He wasn't her kind. He wasn't what she'd wanted for herself.

None of that mattered. Love didn't care about artificial boundaries. It laughed at the plans of Slayers and Theronai alike. Love did whatever the fuck it wanted, and turned the lives of everyone it touched upside down.

But accepting it . . . that was the sweetest feeling in the world.

If only she'd done so sooner. If only she'd realized how she felt sooner and told Joseph, maybe something would have ended up differently. Maybe he wouldn't be
lying there with a sword sticking out of his heart and blood trickling across his flesh.

A feeling of denial boiled up inside her, burning off everything else.

Screw all the
if only
s. Fuck all the
maybe
s. She was going to change reality to suit her, dammit.

Lyka pulled magic from Joseph and used it to reach inside him and squeeze his heart, forcing it to pump. Wherever there was a cut in his veins, she patched it with a tiny force field. He wouldn't heal anywhere near as fast as Eric, but she'd find a way to keep the magic flowing for as long as it took for his body to do its job.

She was handling a lot of different tasks, and the shield holding the demons at bay began to fizzle out under the stress.

Before it failed, Lyka had to get Joseph out of here.

She needed to keep him as still as possible, so she formed another thin film of power beneath him. His body hovered off the ground a few inches atop the stretcher she'd made.

Still in her tiger form for speed, she grabbed the edge of the barrier with her teeth and shoved him forward. She moved faster and faster as she got the hang of it.

Joseph's power flickered as he teetered between life and death. She managed to keep the thin film of energy solid beneath him, but that was all. The wall behind her—the one holding back all the demons—fell.

The sound of excited clicks and yelps grew louder as the demons gained on them.

Within minutes, she was past Treszka's remains and able to smell fresh air. Up ahead, the entrance to the cave was nearly blocked. Only a small hole remained inside a wall of rubble.

Someone had collapsed the entrance.

Lyka shoved Joseph through on his shimmering stretcher. She was right behind him, but her big tiger's body wouldn't fit through the hole.

She shifted back to human form and wiggled through just as the first of the horde of demons cleared the corner.

“Plug it!” shouted Eric.

The young scurried to obey, working together to lever a huge rock into place with a sturdy tree branch.

The stone wall wasn't going to hold them for long. She could already hear them scratching at the rocks on the other side, trying to claw their way free.

A familiar noise beat in the background, but Lyka didn't pay it any attention. Her complete focus was on Joseph.

She knelt by his side and laid her hands on his chest. Blood was everywhere. There were still hours of night left, and any demons nearby would be headed their way as soon as they smelled it.

“You need to take the young and leave,” Lyka told Eric. “They can't be near him with all this blood.”

“What about you?”

Joseph was still alive but only barely, and only because she was forcing his heart to beat. The power flowing out of him that was usually as strong as a river was barely a trickle now. She was struggling just to keep in place the tiny shields that were preventing him from bleeding out altogether.

They'd escaped the cave, but she had no idea how she was going to keep him alive long enough to reach help.

Lyka bowed her head over him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Please don't die, Joseph. I need you. I
love
you.”

A flutter of something flowed through their link, but it was so faint, she couldn't decipher it.

The noise she'd heard earlier began to get loud. The wind picked up. She covered Joseph's head with her body as dust and leaves whipped around them.

Eric put his hand on her shoulder. “It's going to be okay, Sis. The cavalry is here.”

Lyka looked up to see what he meant. A helicopter landed a few yards away in a space barely big enough for the job. Out jumped Nicholas and two other burly Theronai, swords in hand. They made a beeline for the cave entrance, taking up a fighting stance, ready for whatever made it out.

Behind them was a tall, lean man, his dark head bowed against the wash from the rotors.

Ronan.

He lifted his head as he neared Joseph, and a pale silvery light spilled from his eyes. His expression was harsh, his face gaunt. “I'll need blood if I'm to save him and still find the woman I seek. Lots of blood. And I don't have the strength to mask the pain.”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “As much as you need. Whatever it takes.”

The glow in his eyes brightened. “Deal.”

Ronan grabbed her, bent her head back and bit her neck.

She was so shocked by the sharp sting of his teeth sinking into her skin that her control faltered. The power she'd been channeling to keep Joseph from bleeding to death slipped from her grasp.

She tried to find the strand of energy again, but there was nothing there anymore. The connection was severed.

Lyka was alone.

Without her there to keep Joseph's heart beating, it stuttered once, then fell silent.

The luceria opened and slipped from her neck. She
moved to catch it, but Ronan was in the way. She fought against his hold, using all her strength, but no matter how hard she thrashed around, she couldn't break free of his grasp.

Sleep,
he ordered as he continued to drink from her neck. He shoved the command directly into her mind, leaving her no choice but to obey.

She lasted all of ten seconds before fatigue sucked her in and stole all her strength.

V
azel found his queen on the dirty cave floor. With her neck twisted at such an odd angle, she was no longer perfect, but she was still beautiful.

Her breath was so shallow, he almost thought she was dead. But the faint beat of her heart had called to him, summoning him as powerfully as any verbal command she might have uttered.

He stroked her hair, straightening the tangled locks to cover the maw in the top of her head. Why she covered herself like that, he never understood, but he knew she liked it better when no one could see what she really was.

“I can't save you,” he said.

Her eyes opened slightly, but that was the only sign she gave that she'd heard him.

“But your blood will live on.” He cut open her gown with a knife, baring her abdomen. It was smooth and flat, but he could still sense the life that pulsed within her, struggling for survival.

The Slayer's seed had taken root, just as Treszka had hoped.

“It should have been my child,” he told her. “And now it will be.”

There was a flicker of terror in her black eyes, as if she realized what he intended to do. He hated her fear, but he wasn't going to let it stop him. Not when he knew this was the right thing to do. How else could she live on?

Vazel summoned every bit of power he possessed and used it to speed the flow of time within her body. Her abdomen grew with the child, but there was no pain. His mistress couldn't feel anything below her broken neck now.

By the time he was done and felt the first contraction ripple through his queen's belly, he was exhausted. Sweat rolled from his skin. His body shook from the strain of wielding more power than he ever had before.

With trembling hands, he carefully cut into Treszka's body to retrieve its fruit.

The child was perfect. Beautiful.

“You should be proud,” he told his queen, but she didn't hear him. She'd bled out from what he'd done and was gone from his reach forever.

Vazel cut the cord and wrapped the child in a strip of velvet from Treszka's gown. A sense of pride filled him as he cradled in his arms the thing he'd dreamed about most since he'd first laid eyes on his queen.

He looked down at the remains of the woman he'd loved and smiled. “We have a son.”

L
yka woke up in her suite at Dabyr as if nothing had happened. She was whole and safe. All her wounds were healed. She was clean and naked in her own bed.

Completely naked.

She reached for the luceria, already knowing that it was gone.

A deep sense of loss consumed her, driving her from her bed. She slipped into a bathrobe and made it as far as her living room before coming to a dead stop.

Joseph sat at the desk in the corner of her living room, working.

He stood up as she came out of her room but didn't come toward her. Instead, he gripped the back of the chair like an anchor. “You shouldn't be out of bed yet. Ronan said you'd sleep for another day.”

“Guess he was wrong.”

The luceria was back around Joseph's neck again. It looked like it always had, like it had never graced her throat.

His hand rose to touch the band. “You're free.”

“How? I didn't leave any room for a way out of our bond.”

“Except death,” he said. “I died for a minute or two before Ronan brought me back.”

That's why she hadn't been able to reach his power, why she hadn't been able to reach him.

That moment had been the loneliest of her life. Truth be told, that feeling wasn't much better now. The only consolation was that Joseph no longer had any way of knowing what she was thinking. She couldn't be ashamed of her weakness.

“So, what does that mean?” she asked him.

“It means you're off the hook. Eric and the kids are safe. Andreas and the rest of the Slayers are staying here until they can rebuild and reinforce the settlement. I told him that you're free to go with him when they leave.”

He didn't want her to be here anymore? Had she done something to upset him? Or was it just that he'd seen the person she really was and wanted nothing more to do with her?

No one else had ever connected with her like he had. If he didn't like what he saw, then maybe there was something wrong with her.

“What about you? What about your pain?”

“You funneled so much power from me that I'll be fine for a while.”

“Your lifemark?”

“Still has three leaves. The others fell when we separated.”

“So, you're fine without me, huh? What about me? What about
us
?” she asked, her tone a little sharper than she'd intended.

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I can't put you in
danger like that ever again. I have no clue how the other men do it.”

That pissed her off.

She marched up to him and got in his face. “Really?” she asked. “We have one little bump in the road and you call it quits?”

“Little bump? I fucking died, Lyka. If we'd been together much longer—if the colors in the luceria had stopped moving—you could have died right along with me.”

“You only died a little. And Ronan patched you up. You can't let that get in the way of doing what you were meant to do—and I don't mean sitting behind a desk.”

“I'm needed here. Someone has to sit behind the desk.”

“Then take turns. You deserve to get out there and fight just as much as the next guy. And so do I.”

He frowned at her. “You want to fight?”

“Honey, I was born for this. I may still need some practice at the magic part, but I've never in my life felt as whole and satisfied as I did when I was working side by side with you.”

“You don't have to do this,” he said. “Or you could take your time and see if you're compatible with any of the other men.”

“Screw that. I've found my partner. You're the man I want. You're the man I love.”

His smile was slow to form, but once it did, it stretched all the way to his eyes. “Damn, I love hearing that. Say it again.”

“You first.”

“I love you, Lyka. I have for longer than I'm willing to admit.”

“I love you, too, Joseph, but it's still pretty new, so don't push it.” She grinned and reached up to pull the luceria off his neck. It opened easily, wrapping around her hand as if needing to get closer to her. “This is mine. And so are you.”

He kissed her until her head spun with desire. When she pulled away, she could feel the heat of the luceria back where it belonged, around her neck.

“And you're mine,” he told her. “My life for yours, kitten. All of them.”

She placed her hand on his lifemark, feeling the slight pucker of the scar he now wore over his heart. “Forever, Joseph. Whatever comes our way, we face it together.”

Read on for a sneak peek at the final book in Shannon K. Butcher's thrilling Edge series,

ROUGH EDGES

Available in August 2015 from Signet Eclipse

April 28

Dallas, Texas

A
fter two weeks of sleepless nights, little food and endless hours spent working beside a man who lit up her libido like the surface of the sun, Bella Bayne wanted nothing more than a little quality time with her vibrator and a solid eight hours of shut-eye. In that order. Instead, what she got was the man of her fantasies—highly inappropriate ones at that—standing on her front porch, making her mouth water far more than the fragrant bags of Indian food he was toting.

“Thought you might be too tired to cook,” said Victor Temple, the most perfectly formed male of any species ever created.

He stood a few inches over her five-foot-ten-inch frame, blocking out the streetlight behind him. He had aristocratic features that were made more interesting by the three scars decorating his face. They were small but broke up the sea of masculine beauty enough that she could look at him without sunglasses to mask the glare
of perfection. His dark blond hair was cut with military precision, falling in line exactly as he pleased. After several missions with this man, she'd learned he defied the laws of helmet hair in a way she still couldn't understand. Blood pact with dark forces, no doubt.

His clothes were casual but neat and extremely high-end. Victor came from money. Old, refined, nose-in-the-air money, yet she'd never once seen him flaunt it. No diamond cuff links, flashy cars or pricey watches for this man. No, Victor Temple had way more substance than that, which was another reason she wished he was anywhere other than standing on her front porch. It was his substance combined with those stunning good looks that made him dangerous to her professional ethics.

“Hungry?” he asked.

Bella was hungry, but not for what was in those sacks. If not for the fact that she was Victor's boss, she would have feasted on him weeks ago. But her strict no-fraternization policy meant she had to keep her hands and mouth off. Way off.

“You should be at home, asleep,” she said, forcing censure into her tone. “If you think I'm giving you the day off tomorrow so a pretty boy like you can get his beauty rest, you're wrong.”

“I slept more than you did while we were away. And when one comes bearing gifts, Bella, it's customary for the receiver to at least pretend to be gracious.”

“Sweetheart, I don't like pretending. And I'm not gracious.”

He smiled as if he found her amusing. “Only because you're hungry, which I have learned over the past few weeks makes you cranky. Now step aside, Bella. I'm coming in to feed you. Then we have to talk.”

Talk? At this hour? That couldn't mean good news.

He didn't give her time to move. Instead, he stepped forward, and she had no choice but to step back or she'd feel his body collide with hers. As nice as his body was, as off-limits as it was, she wasn't sure she'd survive the crash without tossing him to the carpet and riding him until she got off. At least twice. Maybe then she wouldn't be so cranky.

“Talk about what?” she asked as he strode past her as if he owned her home, heading unerringly to a kitchen he'd never before even seen, much less navigated.

“It can wait until after food.”

His clean scent lingered in the air around him, crossing her path and making her drag in a deep breath to capture it. For a moment, the urge to bury her nose against his chest took over and she forgot all about why she didn't want him here. She had to shake herself to get her brain working again. “You're
my
employee in
my
home, honey. If I tell you to talk now, then that's what you'll do.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her, daring to give her a grin. “I'm off the clock. You can't order me around. Deal with it.”

Fury struck her for a second before turning to lust. She had no idea what it was about this man. She was the owner of a private security firm. She worked with badass men all day long, every day. None of them had ever held her interest for longer than it took her to flatten them in the sparring ring.

But Victor Temple was different. He got under her skin and made it burn. It didn't matter that he was her subordinate, or that he was on loan from the U.S. government to help her deal with a situation of nightmarish proportions. She couldn't seem to be near him without wishing they were both naked, panting and sweating.

Maybe it had something to do with the one and only time she'd taken him on in hand-to-hand-combat practice. They'd both been panting and sweating then, and while they hadn't been naked, she was acutely aware of just how skilled he was. How perfectly built he was. Not overblown or bulging with showy bulk, but his big frame was wrapped with sleek, functional muscles that rippled with power. She had fought bigger men than him and won, but only Victor had been able to pin her to the mat.

She was a strong, independent, kick-ass woman, but even she had to admit she liked that in a man.

“I was half hoping you wouldn't answer the door—that you'd be asleep,” he said.

“I needed to unwind a bit first.”

He lifted a wayward lock of damp hair that had escaped her haphazard ponytail. Only then did she realize just how close he was standing. Too close.

“Shower didn't do the trick?” he asked.

No, but her vibrator would have if he hadn't shown up. After all the time she'd spent with him recently, she wondered if she'd still be able to keep his face out of her fantasies. “There's a heavy bag in the garage. A little time with that would have worn me out.”

He stepped away, leaving her feeling adrift for a second before she caught up with reality. She could not be drawn to Victor. She had to lead by example, and fucking her employee on the kitchen floor, whether he wanted it or not, was not the kind of tone she wanted to set for her workplace.

“You're worried about Gage, aren't you?” He glanced over his shoulder as he washed his hands. Muscles shifted beneath his tight T-shirt, adding fuel to the naughty fantasies she already suffered for this man.

Her gaze slid past him to the window over the sink.
She didn't want him to see how he affected her. Even more than that, she didn't want him to see her fear for Gage. He had willingly walked into the hands of a monster in the hopes of taking her down for good. No one had heard from him since. Bella had to stay tough, appear confident and provide leadership for her men. That included Victor.

She straightened her spine. “Gage has been gone for weeks. He was ordered to make contact with me as soon as he could. The fact that he hasn't is more than a little concerning. Sweetheart, any sane person would be worried.”

Victor turned back toward her as he dried his hands. A flicker of sympathy crossed his features, making him even harder to resist. “He's smart. And tough. I'm sure his silence is a sign that he's working an angle with Stynger, not that he's in trouble.”

“Easy for you to say. You weren't the one who sent him into that crazy bitch's hands.”

“He volunteered for the job. He knew exactly what he was doing when he let her men take him into custody.”

“He did it to save Adam from taking his place. I know Gage. The second he learned that Adam was his brother, his decision was made.”

“Are you saying that he wouldn't have volunteered if it wasn't to save Adam?” asked Victor.

“No, he was on board the whole time, but now that he knows he has a brother, there's no telling what kind of sacrifice he's making to keep Adam safe.”

Victor stepped closer, easing into her personal space like he belonged there. “There's more at stake here than one man. Gage knows that. He's smart enough to realize that the only true way to keep Adam safe is to take Stynger down for good.”

“That's part of what worries me. It's personal for Gage. If he gets the chance to kill Stynger, he'll do it. Even if it means sacrificing himself.” Maybe he already had, and that was why no one had heard from him.

Victor must have read her mind. “He's still alive, Bella. You have to believe that.” He came toward her, compassion shining in his bright eyes. One lean, hard hand was extended. She knew he meant to offer comfort, but she was too fragile for that right now. She had to stay strong, stay tough. As tired as she was, as worried as she was, it would have been too easy for her to crack under the strain and let her emotions run free. One touch from him might be all it took to shatter her self-control.

She hadn't cried in years—not since the night she'd killed her husband in a blind rage. She wasn't about to start now.

Bella moved away before he could reach her. “I'm sure he's alive,” she lied. “I'm also sure we'll find him soon. I just have to stay vigilant and keep looking for even the smallest signs of his whereabouts. We've been on enough missions together that I know how he thinks.”

Victor's hand fell to his side. “You'll be a lot more vigilant after you get some food and sleep. You know him better than any of us. If we're going to see some obscure sign he left behind, you're the most likely one to spot it. But only if you're not exhausted.”

She gave him a pointed stare. “I'd sleep better without one of my men in my kitchen, honey.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

She couldn't remember, but that didn't make him right. “If it's that important to you, then feed me already so we can get to whatever it is you need to talk about. I'm wrung out.”

“Maybe the talk should wait until tomorrow.”

“I'm busy tomorrow. Talk now.”

“I don't think so. Your blood sugar is too low for my peace of mind. It'll take only a minute to warm up the food.”

She watched him move around her kitchen, opening cabinets and finding what he was looking for. The smell of curry filled her kitchen, making her stomach rumble.

He set a plate of food in the microwave, pushed some buttons. Nothing happened. He frowned as he checked to make sure it was plugged in. “It's not working.”

Bella went to his side and tried to make the appliance work, with no luck. “Sorry. It's one of the few kitchen tools I know how to use. I must have worn it out.”

“No worries. We have other options.” He opened her oven door and pulled out her box of business receipts, staring at them as if they might bite. “You keep paperwork in your oven?”

“It's a handy spot. Nothing blows away when I open the windows.”

“What about when you cook?”

She laughed. “Honey, I work eighty-hour weeks, minimum. I spend more than half of my time out of the country, run a reputable business where lives are on the line every day, and you think I have time to cook? You're adorable.”

A blush brightened his cheeks and made his glacier blue eyes stand out. She knew he was a poster boy for the military, all upright and honorable, but there was something about the clarity of his eyes that really sold the whole look. She swore she could see right through him, like he had nothing to hide.

No one was that honorable. Especially not her.

“Does your oven even work?” he asked.

Bella shrugged. “Who knows? Never tried it.”

He turned a knob to get the gas-fueled contraption working. She probably should have been paying attention to how he operated it, but all she could concentrate on was the way his fingers gently gripped the knob, giving it the slightest twist.

Her nipples puckered in response.

After a few seconds, his brow scrunched up as he turned the knob again. “Your pilot light's out.”

“I didn't want to set my receipts on fire. The IRS frowns on excuses like that during an audit.”

“Got any matches?”

She pulled a lighter from her junk drawer and handed it to him. He knelt down, making his jeans go tight over a manly ass carved by God himself. She was so busy admiring him, she barely heard his question.

“Did you move the oven out recently?”

Bella shook her head to get it set on straight again. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“To clean under it.”

She grinned. “So adorable. I just want to pinch your cheeks.” His ass cheeks, if she had her choice.

“Right. Got it. You don't clean, either.”

“I have a housekeeper who comes in once a month to keep the place livable.”

“When was she here last?”

“I don't know. While we were gone sometime. Why?”

He pointed to some crumbs on her floor next to a rusty brown smudge line, his face taut with concern. “Scuff marks. Someone's moved your oven.”

Before she had time to follow why he was upset by her oven's position, he turned on a flashlight app on his phone and directed it behind the oven.

“Bella,” he said, his tone eerily calm, as it was during
a firefight, “turn around and walk out the way I came in. Don't touch anything.”

Serious worry settled in between the cracks in her arousal and fatigue. “What's going on?”

He took her arm and forced her to start walking. “Someone tied what looks like an explosive device to your gas line. Time to go and call the bomb squad from
outside.”