Nightwind (13 page)

such as he had not known since he lay in sweet Tsahan’s arms.

As for those whom he championed, he left them better off, stronger than they ever thought

possible. He gave them self-pride and knowledge. He gave them strength and bravery to face a

world set against them. He gave them the will to endure and to carry on. He made them a part of

him and he, a part of them. The only price they ever paid for his intervention, his schooling, was

the induction into that secret sisterhood that controlled him.

“Before you leave them, you must recruit them into the art,” his mistress had made him vow.

“These women you champion must become One with Us. There can be no other way. And when

you have done all you can for them, you must leave them and never seek them out again.”

That part of it hadn’t bothered him.

Not until he had championed Lauren Fowler.

“You came tome, Syntian.” Angeline’s words brought him back from the past. “I had not called you in

years. It was you who sought me out; not the other way around.”

“You never wanted me,” he reminded her. “Why now?”

She shrugged. “I was young when I signed the pact with you; inexperienced with not only men but with

those of your kind. It never occurred to me to have your sexual favors as part of the bargain.”

“Until now,” he snarled.

“Your touch gave me immense pleasure, Syntian. More pleasure than any human male ever has.”

His lips twisted with triumph. “That is the way it has always been with my kind. A bonus for all the other

joys taken from us.”

“ I want you, Syntian. And just as you were willing to promise our master anything in return for being

taken from the pit, I was willing to do anything to have you.” She shrugged. “Even going to so much

trouble to put temptation in your path.”

His brows drew together as he looked at her. Her lips were stretching into a challenging smile, her face

glowing with humor. There was something in her look that told him she had somehow manipulated him,

forced him into doing something he would not ordinarily have done. His eyes searched hers, probing,

seeking. As the truth of what she’d done finally shown itself to him, it hit him with the force of a physical

blow, rocking him back on his heels as he stared at her with stunned disbelief. His lips parted, his eyes

narrowed with pain, and he slowly shook his head as if the action would negate what she’d done to him.

“Oh, yes,” she whispered, assuring him.

He hung his head, his face registering all the hurt he was feeling in his being. His powerful shoulders

slumped and blood-red tears formed in his eyes. “Why?” he whispered.

“I knew you couldn’t resist helping someone like Lauren Fowler. It was only a matter of time before you

rose to the bait and fell into my net.” She saw him flinch. “The moment you touched her, you were lost.

Weren’t you, my sweet demon?”

A ragged breath, a tired sigh came from his bent head. “Aye,” he replied tonelessly. “I was.”

“When you came to me and asked to break your vow not to kill a human female, I knew I had you,

Syntian,” she said in a throaty acknowledgment of his pain. “You gave up much for Lauren and I pray

she was worth it.” Angeline shrugged. “It would be nice to have Lauren be one of us, but it isn’t

necessary. I rather like her. If you hadn’t come to her aid, I’d have eventually done something myself. I

certainly wouldn’t enjoy seeing her hurt.”

His head snapped up, fear turning his brown eyes black.

“Don’t worry, lover,” she told him. “As long as you behave, Lauren will be just fine.”

“What do you want from me?” he whispered, his voice rife with hurt.

“Your strong arms around me,” she said as she sat forward on the loveseat. “Your body atop my own.

Your hard shaft within me, pleasuring me.”

“And in return?” he asked in unconscious imitation of all the mistresses he had ever served.

Angeline slid down to the floor in front of him and slipped her arms around his neck, ignoring the

repulsion she saw in his face, the way his body tensed at her touch.

“In return, I will allow you the joy of being with Lauren. She seems to give you pleasure and I like the

revenge against those who have abused her all these years. As long as you come when I call you, you

can have her for as long as you desire her. But the first time you balk at a command from me or ignore

my wishes, I’ll take her from you in such a way, the pit will seem like paradise to you.” Her smile faded

as she moved her lips to his ear. Her whisper was as soft as a feather. “Do we understand one another,

my demon lover?”

Her hands were on his body, caressing him, touching him, sending shock waves of revulsion down his

spine. Her lips were on his neck, nuzzling, nipping, sucking at his flesh. Her body was grinding against his,

demanding, seeking, needing.

“Do you
understand?
”

“Aye, milady,” he whispered, his voice tight with grief.

“Good. Now put your arms around me, Syntian,” she ordered as her tongue slipped into his ear.

His arms came up and gathered her to him, pressing her hot flesh against his. He was numb inside,

mindless of the way her lips trailed kisses over his cheek and onto his immobile mouth. She licked him,

the tip of her tongue sliding against his slack lips.

“Kiss me,” she breathed against his mouth. “Open your mouth and plunder mine!”

He moved his lips over hers, all the while staring at some point beyond his vision, his eyes blank and

glazed. He felt her hand slide down between them to his manhood and he flinched as her fingers molded

around him.

“I want you,” she commanded. “Pleasure me, demon. Make me mindless with passion and whatever

you do, do not dare disappoint me.”

His hands moved of their own accord, neither feeling nor experiencing the pleasure he had learned to

give so well. As he was forced against his will to mate with her, his thoughts were on the vengeance that

would one day be his.

Lauren lookedat the clock radio beside her bed. It was a quarter past ten and she had still not heard

from him. It had been more than a week since they had sat together at the sandwich shop; over a week

since she had spoken to him or knew anything of his whereabouts. She had broken down and called his

house twice the day after their last meeting, but he hadn’t been home. She’d thought he’d drop by the

store, but he hadn’t. There had been only the continuous ringing of his phone when she’d called again.

After the fourth day of trying to get hold of him, she’d given up, hurt by his thoughtlessness, wounded by

his silence. On the fifth night, she’d began to imagine the worst, calling every hospital within a sixty mile

radius, hoping against hope that he hadn’t been injured in a wreck or become so ill he couldn’t tell

anyone his name. On the eighth day, she’d called the police, but they knew nothing of his disappearance

either. If anything, they were more anxious than she was to get hold of him.

“Why?” Lauren had asked.

“There’s still some questions we want to ask him about Beth Janacek,” the interim Sheriff had answered.

“We went out to his house, but he wasn’t there. If he didn’t have anything to hide, where is he?”

Where, indeed?
Lauren turned over on her side, away from the clock and its accusing face. Her sixth

sense told her he hadn’t left the state, that he wasn’t all that far away, but she couldn’t image where he

could be or what he could be doing.

“Lauren,” Angeline Hellstrom had said to her only that morning on the phone when she’d voiced her

fears to her employer. “Maybe he has a girlfriend. Did that ever occur to you?”

It hadn’t. Not at all. The thought of Syn seeing another woman hurt Lauren more than she would have

thought possible. After all, the man was merely a friend. He’d never touched her in any inappropriate

way. Had shown her nothing but kindness and courtesy and friendship during the few times they had

been together. He hadn’t led her on, promised her anything, or hinted at any further entanglement. Why

shouldn’t the man have a life outside the confines of his and her acquaintance? Maybe he was the kind of

man who needed the stimulation of many women: friend, lover and intellectual-sparring partner. She’d

heard of men like that.

“I’m sure he’s probably just shacking up with one of his women, Lauren,” Mrs. Hellstrom had laughed.

“A man as handsome as Syntian Cree is bound to have more women chasing him than he can shake a

stick at. Don’t let it worry you. You’ll hear from him. I’ll be willing to bet on it.” And yet ten days had

passed and not one word.

Lauren dug her fingernails into her pillow and buried her face in the downy softness. The phone wasn’t

going to ring tonight any more than it had on the previous eleven nights. She might as well not expect it to.

Quiet sobs began to shake her slender shoulders.

He growled atDelbert as the black man opened the bedroom door and looked in on him.

“Miss Angeline said to tell you she’s waiting for you in her bath,” Del said quietly to the fiercely scowling

man who was pacing like a caged animal across the plush rose carpet.

Syntian’s voice was ice cold with fury. “You tell her she can...”

Delbert shook her head. “You know better than that, Cree.” He shut the door softly, grimacing as

something was pitched hard against the door. He heard the shattering of glass and wondered what the

man had broken now.

“Bitch!” he spat as he snatched up another Waterford vase and sent it hurtling across the room to crash

against the thick panel of the oak door. “Whoring slut!” A delicate Hummel followed closely on the heels

of the vase.

He stopped as his hand closed around the Tiffany bedside lamp. He felt the tug of her calling him, the

demand for him to obey pulling at his being. He put his head back and howled in frustrated rage. He

knew as well as she did that he couldn’t disobey. The knowledge of that drove him nearly insane with

thwarted defiance.

“I hate you!” he shouted, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood if he could bleed.

“I want you,” came the soft, insinuating murmur wafting around him like tentacles.

He felt trapped, imprisoned within the silky walls of Angeline Hellstrom’s guest room. She had allowed

him the privacy of his own room during the day, but his nights, every one of them since he had been

summoned to her, had been spent in the bed beside her, her hands on him like hot pinchers tearing away

bits and pieces of his sanity, her mouth sucking away any vestige of peace he had ever known.

“How much longer, Angeline?” he had pleaded with her only the night before. “How long must I stay?”

Her answer had been an iron band around his chest: “Until I am finished with you.”

He raked his hands through his hair, tearing at the thick dark mane that swung loosely around his

shoulders. He hadn’t shaved in days; didn’t intend to. His unkempt appearance seemed to amuse her.

“It makes you look dangerous,” she had whispered to him.

“I am dangerous!” he had shouted, deliberately hurting her as his fingers had thrust deeply within her

moistness. But she had enjoyed the pain, his roughness, and he had become sickened by her reaction.

“Everything you do thrills me, Syntian,” Her nails had raked across the flesh of his back.

Now, listening to her siren song chanting to him, teasingly calling his name in childlike sing-song:

“Syn...ti...an! Syn...ti...an, where a...r...e you?” His lips pulled back over grinding teeth and he snatched

the bedroom door open and strode down the hall with murder in his cold, cold heart.

Maxine Fowlerfrowned at her daughter. The girl was helping a customer, smiling at the woman, carrying

on a conversation as though she had every right to. The customer, a middle-aged man with a receding

hairline, was actually smiling at the chit. Smiling at her! Maxine’s stare lowered as she watched the

interplay at the counter. A warning light had already gone on over her head when one of the three other

shop girls in the store had come to Lauren to ask her a question in a polite, respectful voice. When there

had even been a smile from the girl, Lauren’s mother began to gnash her teeth.

“I just can’t seem to get enough of David’s books,” the little man said.

“I’ll put your name down on our list, Mr. Rogers,” she heard Lauren tell the man. “It shouldn’t take very

long to get your copy of Wiltse’s new book.”

“Thank you, Lauren,” Bill Rogers said. He smiled again and left the store, politely nodding at Maxine as

he went out the door.

“Why were you flirting with that man?” Lauren’s mother demanded as she stormed up to the counter,

oblivious to the looks the other shop girls and sole customer sent her way.

Lauren’s face turned red. “I wasn’t flirting with him, Mama. Mr. Rogers taught me at PJC my last year

there.”

“It was disgraceful!” Maxine grumbled. “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my entire life?”

“Of what?” Lauren asked, her face creased in puzzlement.

Maxine snorted. “Of the way you were throwing yourself at that odious man!”

Lauren’s mouth dropped open. She was about to answer her mother’s ridiculous claim when the phone

rang behind her. Her mouth snapped shut and she squinted with anger then spun around, snatching up the

phone.

“Composition Book Store. May I help you?” she snarled into the receiver.