Kyn Series (15 page)

“This is terrible,” she commented, indicating the screen, “and I’m bored.”

He slid her a sideways glance, arching an eyebrow. “Bored? You can’t be…this is a classic!” he said, his voice aghast even as his eyes twinkled with laughter. Tessa studied the screen again, displaying a car chase which never seemed to end.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered, “classic my ass…”

“Oooh! That’s it! You can’t diss
Bullitt,
it’s just not done!”

Tessa giggled, their conversation conducted in whispers as they tried to avoid waking the sleeping baby. “Not done huh? Seems to me I just did…so what are you going to do about it, fang-boy?” she challenged, grabbing a pillow to defend herself and scooting to the edge of the bed.

“Fang-boy? Well aren’t you Queen of the Original Insults?” Feral asked, arming himself and advancing on her. Trouble was, the fierce expression on his face was completely ruined by the pale lavender pillow he brandished, threateningly. “You have insulted my honour! Prepare to…get battered!”

With that, he launched his attack, battering her with the feather pillow as she frantically tried to defend herself with her own. Queen of pillow fights when she was a kid, she was pleased to discover she’d lost none of her skill, easily holding him off as she made a move for his pillow. Then she had both, rising to her knees to hit him back, forcing him to block, and he did so with lightening quick movements. The both of them laughed so hard she was surprised the noise hadn’t awoken Spud.

Her half second glance cost her dearly. In a sneaky move, Feral flicked both pillows out of her hands and rolled over, pinning her under him in a lightning-quick movement. She giggled and tried to wriggle from under him, her fingers straining for the pillow, while teetering on the edge of the bed, just for the chance to whack him over the head again.

Then she caught his gaze and the amusement drained from her face. The mood between them flipped from light and teasing to aware and fraught with sexual tension, in a heartbeat. Holding her gaze, he moved, sliding a hand into her hair, strong fingers caressing the nape of her neck.

She swallowed, realizing she was very effectively pinned on the bed under him. His large, muscled body covered hers, blocking her view of the rest of the room, trapping the two of them in their own little world. One heavy leg covered hers, his broad chest pressing against the softness of her breasts. And pressed against her stomach was the hard evidence of his mood.

She caught her breath, a thrill shooting through her as he leaned forward. “I’ve wanted to do this since we were interrupted earlier,” he confessed, as his lips claimed hers, hot and hard. Full of need, without preamble, he coaxed her lips apart. Her body turned to jelly as his tongue swept in, exploring the silken depths of her mouth relentlessly. Endlessly. By the time he lifted his head, a lifetime later, they were both breathing raggedly.

“Don’t turn me away Tess.” He kissed her between the words, hard kisses clearly conveying the need surging through his large body. “Please don’t turn me away.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t intend to.” Her hand smoothed over the nape of his neck, brushing against the stubble there. A silky pelt that teased her fingers. He moaned, his head dropping again to devour her lips as he moved over her, the movement of his hips against hers mimicking what they both wanted to happen…what was going to happen shortly.

She parted her thighs, cradling him with the softness of her body as his hand smoothed down her side. He pulled her t-shirt up, his movements hurried, almost desperate. As though he couldn’t wait to touch her, as though he needed,
craved
the touch of her skin against his. As he did, his large hand fit into the curve of her waist, a sigh escaping him. One she could swear was of relief, as his lips trailed fire down her neck.

Tessa’s breath caught in her throat.
Does he really feel that way about me? Desperate to touch me?
She could understand it if he did, a similar desperation crawled through her, settling deep within her and taking up residence. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back, feeling the hard muscle that rippled under his skin, until she had a handful of the hard ass Jane had admired earlier.

Almost as though thinking of her aunt had conjured her up, there was a rapid knock on the door. Jane’s panicked voice filtered through the wood. “You’ve got to wake up guys! The Pixies are here!”

Feral closed his eyes and dropped his head down to rest against Tessa’s shoulder. Frustration and disappointment surged through him, fighting a battle for dominance. He couldn’t believe this! Not again!

“I fucking hate Pixies!” he breathed vehemently. His fist bunched instinctively under the pillow with the need to hit something.

“Tell me about it.” Disappointment and frustration coloured Tessa’s voice as she pushed at his shoulders. He rolled away, already looking for his boots as she headed for the door. “And I bloody
am
one!”

Feral didn’t answer, just nodded as he jammed his feet into his boots and grabbed his shirt. Behind him, Jane barrelled through the door as soon as Tessa opened it, gaze sweeping the room and latching onto his semi-nakedness immediately. It was something Feral was used to, sometimes Kyn warriors had that effect on other races, particularly women…something about their demon blood. The fact that most of them stood over six feet and were ripped as all hell didn’t hurt one bit.

“Oh put it away lover boy, we don’t have the time!” Jane told him as he pulled his shirt over his head, the fabric stretching over his broad shoulders. He pulled it down, emerging from the fabric to give her a look, but didn’t reply. From the pale look on her face she’d already had one hell of a shock, worry etched into the features so similar to Tessa’s. Must be where she got the attitude as well, he mused, grabbing his weapons belt and buckling it quickly around his hips.

“Grab your bags,” Tessa ordered as she headed to the cot to pick up the sleeping Spud. Wrapping him tightly in the blanket, she cradled him against her, heading back to the door.

“We’ve got Pixies downstairs looking for you, and they aren’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. You need to get out of here and now!”

Neither of them needed to be told twice, grabbing their belongings and stuffing them into the bags as quickly as they possibly could.

“How the hell did they find us so quickly?” Feral demanded. He zipped his bag up with a quick flick of his wrist and held it out to Tessa, who glared back at him, a “carry your own damn bag buddy” look on her face. It wasn’t until he pulled one of the heavy blades from the back of his belt that her expression cleared. Nodding, she took the bag, looping the strap across her body, the fabric sitting diagonally between her breasts as she picked up the other two.

Feral wrestled his attention from her delectable body, one he’d nearly had his hands on. And was having trouble dismissing even now, with images of what she looked like naked flashing across his mind’s eye, causing a very predictable response lower down in his body. He shook his head. If the Pixies were to catch up to them, he would need a clear mind, as well as his hands free, to deal with them. Rampant erotic fantasies of Tessa were just going to distract him. Well, distract him more than her presence did, and that delicate scent that was all hers. A scent which had wound itself around him, creeping into his nostrils and crawling under his skin until it was a part of him.

He hardened his features as he settled his blades more comfortably in his hands. Any Pixies, stupid or unlucky enough to catch up to them were going to wish they’d never been born. They’d interrupted them twice now. Not once, but count them,
twice…
right as he was about to get some action. Which was not something he was forgiving lightly; not with his body as hard and aching as it was, reminding him of exactly what he was missing out on!

He nodded to the two women when he was ready, both watching him with that “wide eyed” look. A look which said they half-expected violence to just occur all around him, without him needing to lift a finger. Well, civilian women got that look. Vixen would’ve just slapped him upside the head for showing off, for flexing his muscles because Tessa was watching, then she’d demand to know why he wasn’t out in that corridor already.

Casting a quick glance about the room to make sure they had everything, he moved past the two women to the door. With control hard won over the years, and even more so now, he blocked out all other distractions and concentrated on the corridor.

It was empty, his keen senses picking up nothing. No breathing, no heartbeat, zilch. He’d heard of some people holding their breath to avoid detection, but he’d yet to meet anyone who could shield a heartbeat from a Kyn. Especially one that hadn’t yet fed.

“Ok, we’re all clear.” He pulled the door open and headed out into the hall.

Progress through the hotel corridors was quick, with Feral hurrying the two women along as fast as he could. He didn’t even have to remind them to keep quiet, which was a minor miracle considering how they’d been chattering away down in reception earlier. Even Spud was down with the deal, watching the proceedings wide-eyed and silent—the little one must have picked up on the sense of urgency shrouding the adults.

The corridors were deserted, the clock-watching insomniacs had finally succumbed to exhaustion and the early birds’ alarm clocks had yet to spring to life. Even so, dawn approached, the tell-tale heaviness settling into Feral’s limbs as Jane led them further into the depths of the hotel. Down through the kitchens and beyond, into the darkness of the basement.

Feral breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the comfort of the ground closing around him, shielding him from the worst effects of the approaching sunrise. Of all the facts humanity had picked up, or made up about vampires, their habit of seeking the earth was the most accurate. The human books and films each gave their own reasons, of course, but the reason was simple. The layers of dirt between him and the soon-to-be-rising sun lifted some of the heaviness trying to settle into his muscles, paralyzing and crushing him. But the earth stopped that, a bizarre form of sun block. He chuckled to himself, amusement filling him at the thought. Good old dirt—SPF factor, one billion.

“Well, here we are,” Jane announced, as the two women stood at the bottom of the stairs, Feral joining them a moment or so later. The barred door at the top of the stairs might not stall a determined Pixie for long—hell, by the looks of it, it might not stop a determined
Chihuahua
for long—but sometimes a person had to make do with what they had. At the moment, Feral was taking every half second he could lay his hands on.

The basement wasn’t what he expected, the musty odour of age and mildew combining to attack his sensitive nostrils. On the one hand, it was an average, clutter-filled basement with the random cast of paraphernalia of running a hotel, lining the walls. Like the dining room chair to his left, resplendent in all of its faded glory, the seat ripped to spill its fabric guts out onto the floor. Next to it sat a cot with three broken slats, filled with what looked to be ripped up old sheets…and so on. Half formed shapes in the shadows were cast by the single bare bulb overhead, all pretty standard basement-type stuff.

Except for that was, the freaking huge magic circle painted across the floor that continued in a sprawl across the wall. As though the painter had realised halfway through he’d run out of space and had just carried on, along the next available surface. Feral followed the design, half expecting it to continue over the clutter, and painted across more broken chairs and the like. But it didn’t. That area of the basement was completely clear to allow the circle to continue unbroken. In the middle, stood a door. Well, it looked like a door. If doors didn’t actually have doors and lead to raw dirt instead. Absently, he wondered how the dirt was being held up and why it hadn’t just fallen into the room.

“Err, silly question, but aren’t magic circles supposed to be drawn on the floor?” he ventured, noting that not only was the floor space the circle was drawn on clear of clutter, but that someone had swept it recently, as well. Apparently though, their housekeeping efforts only extended as far as the circle, leaving a ridge of dirt and dust around the clean area. Not randomly, as though the wielder of the brush couldn’t be bothered, but very precisely. Deliberately done. A circle within a circle, he realized with a start. Old, old magic. So old, most people didn’t realise it
was
actually magic.

“Well aren’t we Mister Picky? Do you
see
enough floor space in here to go for a proper circle?” Jane demanded. “No, we had to adapt things slightly. Use what we had.”

She handed the baby over to Tessa, who was beginning to resemble a packhorse. An amused quirk of her lips told Feral she was thinking exactly the same thing, an understood look passing between them.

A little startled by how in sync they appeared to be, how it almost seemed as though she could read his mind, Feral went back to studying the circle.

Painted with what looked to be a domestic decorating brush and leftover emulsion, the designs seemed crude at first. But then, his attention was drawn inward. Following the lines, he realised they really weren’t crude, after all. Yes, they’d been done with less than ideal equipment and that had thrown him at first. It was like giving a concert pianist a child’s keyboard. But something beautiful had been created despite it all. The lines had been drawn confidently, and with a flourish. A labour of skill and love he’d not seen in a long time.

“This was done by a Warden. A good one,” he breathed as he opened his hand and passed his palm over the nearest marks.

The Witching flared violet, the symbols etching themselves into the air itself, hanging there for a second before falling away like purple fairy dust, the colour of the Wardens’ magic. He frowned for a moment, he didn’t know of any Warden families that cast in purple. Not in the local area anyway. Jane must have shipped someone in.

Jane chuckled. “Someone give the boy a prize!” She cast a look at Tessa, then said, “You sure can pick the bright ones, can’t you sweetie?”

Feral coloured a little, unsure why he’d become the butt of jokes around here. He’d noticed that about women, before. Get one on her own and she was fine, but get them in packs of two or more and suddenly, everything a guy said, or did, was wrong.

He caught Spud’s eye, looking for some moral support from the only other male in the room. Spud just blinked back at him, a look that plainly said, “You’re on your own buddy. I’m cute and milking it for all it’s worth!”

Sighing, he turned back to the matter at hand, ignoring Jane’s comment. “Ok, what I don’t understand is why you got a Warden to recreate a Fairy gate? Why not just apply to them for a licensed one? I hear they relaxed the rules. Even nightclubs are getting them now…”

Jane arched an eyebrow, turning to look at him fully, her expression clearly telling him she didn’t think he was “all there.”

“Err, perhaps because
I
don’t want them to know it’s here? You know, like…keep it a
secret?
” she replied, scathingly. “Not exactly a secret anymore is it? If half the court admin know about it! And there’s no sense in expecting a Brownie to keep its mouth shut when there’s some gossip to share.”

He had to admit she had a point. Brownies had to be the worst gossips, often making things up if the real news wasn’t spicy enough. If something was said within earshot, guaranteed the rest would know by lunchtime.

He shuddered. Brownies had always given him the creeps. Because of his own paranormal blood, he could see through the weak glamour they cast to fool human minds. A glamour that made them appear to be small, neat men of indeterminable middle age. Underneath though, they were wizened, spindly creatures with bulbous eyes and overlong fingers. They reminded him of spiders, with their quick movements and thin limbs.

“I see your point,” he conceded, curious as to why an aunt of Tessa’s needed a secret back door into the Fae realm. He didn’t get to ask that question however, as the next moment, a heavy thud sounded against the door at the top of the stairs.

“I suggest you do whatever it is you’re planning,” Feral said quickly, moving over to the piles of broken furniture and other clutter, throwing all of it into the stairwell. That way, if they were to get through the door, they’d still have to fight to get down the stairs.

*

Jane nodded, flashing Tessa a brief, reassuring smile as she started to chant, moving around the circle as she did, triggering wards on its perimeter.

Tessa watched in amazement, Spud cuddled up tight in her arms. Her worry about the pursuers momentarily forgotten, as she watched the beautiful symbols flare brightly in the air for a few seconds before they faded to nothing again.

Her own magic wasn’t particularly strong, just enough for will-o’-wisps and personal glamour. In fact, the stunt she’d pulled in the nursery, getting will-o’-wisps to attack that Pixie, had been the most magic she’d pulled since her teens. Attempting to become more human and blend in, she’d just stopped using it.

But now, seeing Jane using her power, albeit by extension since she was using “pre-recorded magic” set up by the maker of the circle, Tessa wondered whether that had been the right choice. Whether she’d been right to turn away from that side of her heritage. Perhaps that was why she didn’t feel like she fit in her own skin sometimes?

Finally, Jane stopped moving, holding her hand motionless over one symbol. Expectation built in the room like pressure in an airplane cabin, as she carried on chanting. Her voice rose steadily until she reached the end of the incantation, saying the last words with a flourish of her fingers.

Something hit the air in the room, not a sound precisely, more like a sound wave or the ripples in a pond after a stone had been dropped into the water. She shivered as it hit her, reverberating through her body before it passed on, rippling outward.

As Tessa watched the dirt “door” change, a shimmer passed over it like quicksilver, filling the frame until it looked like the surface of a mirror. One that reflected nothing, only the pale swirl of opaque mist that curled and moved within its rectangular confines.

Behind her, the door cracked, startling a squeak from Tessa. She ducked instinctively, expecting hordes of Pixie warriors to pour down the stairs at any moment. She clutched Spud to her as Jane shoved her toward the strange door.