SEDUCTIVE SUPERNATURALS: 12 Tales of Shapeshifters, Vampires & Sexy Spirits (93 page)

“And what is
your
purpose water horse? Are you simply out to pasture to eat? Is that all there is for you?”

His verbal jab found its mark, and Benedict’s nostrils flared. “I am the master of this land. It was created for me. I will come and go and feed as I please. No outlander has power over me. Not anymore.”

Benedict rushed Colin, but he stepped to the right, shoving Benedict as he passed by. The aughisky stumbled to the ground, cursing under his breath. Colin used his Night Walker speed, hauling Benedict to his feet. Colin’s eyes burned, no doubt glowing crimson.

“The only reason I haven’t emptied the filthy blood from your veins and tossed the husk of your body back to the ocean that spat you out is because I understood you were part of this land before I ever arrived. Even serpents have a reason for being.” His voice lowered to a feral snarl. “But you
will
respect the boundaries we agreed to centuries ago, or I
will
finish you, Benedict. This is not negotiable.”

Benedict jerked away, breaking free of Colin’s grasp. He tilted his head, his teeth red with blood. “You surprise me. Standing and facing me toe-to-toe is not your style. Why aren’t you circlin’ high above me?”

Colin’s gut twisted, but he buried his reaction. “No reason to fly. You are only alive because I choose it. And I am rethinking that decision with every second that Muriel is missing.”

He rolled his eyes. “Why bother to learn their names?” He stepped closer. “Besides, she’s not missing. She’s dead.”

Colin lunged at Benedict, eager to wipe the satisfied grin from his face. They wrestled on the ground, each landing punches. His weak left arm forced him to attack with his right, shielding his left side. In their previous meetings, Colin’s strength had far overshadowed Benedict’s, but now he found himself struggling to maintain the upper hand. Without allowing his spirit animal to attack from overhead, he wasn’t able to weaken Benedict, bleed his vigor out through deep flesh wounds from his talons.

With each kill, the water horse gained more brute force, filling his muscles with energy. How many had died while Colin had been in the Yucatan battling the Night Demon? Benedict head-butted him, and blood erupted from his nose as Benedict broke away. Colin scrambled to his feet, his immortal blood already working to heal the wound.

Benedict backed toward the edge of the cliff. “I no longer accept any boundaries. Not from you or anyone else. I will keep fighting you, Night Walker, until you leave Ireland or you’re dead. I will let you decide which way.”

He turned and dove. Colin rushed to the edge. Below, Benedict’s body grew, mutating in the air into his true form, a black stallion with red eyes. The horse vanished into the ocean as the dark water welcomed him home. A month ago Colin would’ve flown off the cliff after Benedict, continuing the fight, but now…

He raked a shaky hand through his hair. Benedict was a pompous ass. He had no idea how to end a Night Walker’s life, but he definitely could turn eternity into a living hell. Colin sat down on a rock jutting up from the green grass and stared up at the stars.

He could leave. His brother Kane lived in Paris on a large estate. Kane would allow him to stay there while he planned his next move. Or he could return to the Yucatan.

Shaking his head, he lowered his gaze. No. This was his home now. Was he seriously considering backing away from this fight? Juliana’s music filled his mind. He closed his eyes and saw her face, the flush of determination in her cheeks when she’d told him she didn’t need his help. What if Benedict came for her? Could he live with her blood on his hands, too?

And it was all because of his arm. No longer soaring, his wings—and his spirit—were clipped.

He got up and threw a pebble over the cliff, anger threatening to drown him. Muriel was dead. The only saving grace was that the water horse fed on his victims’ entire bodies. There’d be no remains. As far as Juliana and her family needed to know, Muriel ran off with a handsome man and didn’t want to be found.

Surely that was less painful than knowing she’d been drowned and consumed by and ancient aughisky.

If he remained here, he needed to get past the bitterness and restore his confidence in his ability to protect those in his care. Without it he wasn’t sure he could beat Benedict now that he was at his full strength.

He needed Juliana’s help.

Before it was too late for both of them.

* * *

The dark water embraced its son as Benedict plunged deep into the waves. He pumped his legs, agitating the water as he pushed up toward the surface until his mighty head broke through. He scanned the night sky, waiting for the Night Walker’s aerial attack.

He had no idea if a Night Walker could drown, but either way, he had the advantage in the ocean. He allowed the waves to pass him by, keeping himself a healthy distance from the shore. The Night Walker would try to attack in the form of an oversized red-tailed hawk, his talons digging deep, attempting to weaken Benedict through blood loss, but in the deep sea, his body was protected. Unless the Night Walker was willing to discover if his hawk could swim, Benedict would be impossible to target from the air.

But the attack never came. The hawk didn’t even fly past to survey the situation.

After an hour had passed, Benedict swam for the beach. The horse trotted up the sand, shaking the seawater from his coat. Energy electrified the air, tiny shots of lightning arcing through the night. The black stallion reared on his hind legs, raising his front hooves as he shifted back into a man.

Benedict stood tall, naked, and pissed. He’d taken his true form on the way down from the cliff, ruining his clothes as he went. A nuisance he barely cared about at the time, his mind occupied with questions.

Why hadn’t the Night Walker shifted? In all of their battles over the past thousand years, Colin had never hesitated to take flight. The aerial attack gave him an advantage.

But tonight he hadn’t taken it. Benedict baited him, hunted and fed in his territory, and yet he remained unscathed. A twisted smile exposed the true nature hidden behind the mask of his handsome features. Something had happened to his adversary while he’d been away. Perhaps he was injured or lost his ability to shift.

Not that it mattered.

This was the opportunity Benedict had dreamed of and waited lifetimes to be given. He would make the most of it. And by the time he tortured and killed everything the Night Walker cared about, Colin would be begging for death.

* * *

Juliana sat in her cottage reading, although she was pretty sure she’d never be able to remember what she’d just read. Her mind was elsewhere. The police had taken fingerprints and a sample of the Guinness. They’d also mentioned, more than once, that while it did seem odd that Muriel left her pub unattended, adults vanished on their own every day. Maybe she’d wanted a change of pace or met a man on the Internet. It happened all the time apparently.

She caught herself hoping that was what happened, but she still didn’t believe it. Muriel wasn’t flighty, and she couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it. If she’d fallen for a guy on the Internet, Juliana—and probably every female friend Muriel knew—would’ve known.

And with each hour that slipped by, she worried more and more about Colin, too. She should’ve told him about the dream. Warned him somehow. Even if he decided she was bonkers, at least he’d be safe.

Brian jumped off the back of the sofa and sauntered to the front door. He sat down and stared up at the knob. Juliana set her book aside and followed her cat. Peering through the side window, relief washed through her. Colin.

She released the dead bolt and opened the door. He didn’t smile or even meet her eyes.

“May I come in?”

She nodded and moved back. Colin walked past her and sat on the couch. Did he have bad news? Her chest constricted as she grabbed her pad and pen. She sank onto the sofa beside him.

Did you find—

He took the pen from her fingers. Her gaze lifted to his face, but his lips didn’t move. His expression didn’t soften.

You do not need that pad to talk to me.

His voice was deep and rich, and it reached beyond her ears, filling the void of sound inside her mind. She probably yelped out loud as she sprang up from the couch, tears swamping her eyes. She
heard
him. Was she dreaming?

Her hands trembled as she mouthed,
How
?

He sighed, tossing her pen onto the coffee table. A muscle in his cheek tightened, but his lips never moved.
I am not like everyone else. I will hear you if you think about speaking to me. It will be faster than passing notes.

You hear me?
A single tear spilled down her cheek.

Colin nodded and slowly met her gaze for the first time since he’d returned. They were cold, distant.
I hear you.

You’re telepathic.

He hesitated but finally replied.
Something like that.

She went back to the sofa, her mind a jumble of questions, but Colin’s shadowed stare kept her from asking them. She wasn’t sure she even cared about the answers. She could
hear
.

He took her hand.
Tell me about the accident. How did you get over the loss fate handed you?

She frowned.
The accident? What does that have to do with Muriel?

I didn’t find Muriel.
He stood, pacing her tiny living room.
I don’t have time to explain everything, but there is a dangerous man out there. A man I should be able to handle…
He looked her way, a muscle in his cheek clenched.
How did you overcome your injury?

She straightened, rubbing her brow.
There’s nothing to tell. I lived. I struggled, and I’m still here.

Bollocks.
He raked his fingers through his hair.
That is bullshit. I would not ask you if there was another way. I need to know. Make me understand.

It’s not bullshit.
She crossed her arms, her temper smoldering at his accusation. His attitude was snuffing the magic and wonder of the miracle of hearing his voice in her mind.
I don’t know what you’re asking.

Suddenly Colin’s emerald eyes were filled with an intensity that made her pulse race. He stopped in his tracks and yanked off his coat, throwing it to the floor, his gaze demanding hers. What was he doing? He tugged his shirt free from the waist of his jeans and pulled it over his head. He dropped the shirt on top of his jacket and stood half naked before her.

Somewhere deep in her mind a voice warned she hardly knew this half-naked man, but he didn’t come any closer. His expression made it clear he’d disrobed for a reason, but God only knew what that might be.

As the initial shock wore off, she couldn’t help but stare. His chest was broad, chiseled but not bulky like she’d expect from a man who worked a farm. His abs were toned, tempting her to run her hands up his skin. Her gaze moved further up to his wide, well-muscled shoulders, strong, and his arms…

His arm.

His fists were tight at his sides, tensing the muscles in his right arm, but from the elbow to his shoulder on his left side it was a mass of scars. Narrow. Bicep muscle missing. She lifted her gaze to his face. His eyes were distant, his face tight.

I used to protect this county. How am I supposed to do that now?
Emotion deepened the tone of his voice.
Bitterness darkens my soul and clouds my judgment. What I need is to learn how you moved past them. There must be a way to think beyond what I have lost.
His voice softened.
Please.

She went to him and took his left hand. His scars were deep; he must’ve come close to losing his limb. And what did he mean by protecting the county? He’d mentioned looking for a man buying roses. Perhaps when he wasn’t on the farm he worked as a private investigator. None of that mattered at the moment.

She looked up from his arm to his face, but he glanced away. Juliana released his hand and caught his chin.

Look at me.
He took a deep breath and met her eyes.
I see your scars, but I don’t see a weak man. I see a survivor. Every obstacle we face makes us stronger.

He shook his head, rolling his eyes.
I am far from stronger. This,
he gestured to his left arm,
is not going to be able to protect you.

I think there is much more to you than your left arm.

Night Angel: Chapter Six

Her words echoed through his mind. The simplicity of her statement slammed into him. Could it really be so simple? She didn’t understand the pain brewing inside of him, couldn’t understand. Half of his spirit used to soar through the clouds. How could he reconcile losing that part of himself?

He brought his right hand up, caressing her cheek. Her lashes lowered as she turned her head, her lips brushing his palm. When she met his eyes again, unworthiness swelled in his chest. He’d bared his scars, his wounds, and somehow this angel in front of him didn’t see him as weak. But she didn’t know that her cousin was dead—because of his inability to protect them.

She stared up at him, her voice filling his mind.
I was with my mother and my brother that day. We were walking through Belfast, down Shankill Road.

Colin’s chest tightened. He remembered the Shankill Road bombing. She was lucky to be alive.

While we walked in front of Frizzell’s fish shop, the bomb exploded. All I remember was a sound so big it threw me across the street. Paramedics performed CPR on me for five minutes. They brought me back. I woke up terrified, in pain, and lost. They didn’t know where my mother was or my brother, and if they did…
Her eyes welled with tears.
I couldn’t hear them. I couldn’t hear anything, not even myself. I screamed until they sedated me.

Colin embraced her, kissing her hair.
I wish it could have been different.

She nodded against his chest.
My mom survived, but I lost my older brother that day, and my hearing never returned. I spent two years angry at God, at the whole world.