The Beholder (6 page)

He gazed down at the hole he’d left in the coat. He’d severed it, lining and all. She was lying on her belly, half her back exposed. Her baggy blue sweater had ridden up her spine, exposing a ten-inch expanse of what looked like two pairs of white long johns. Was she wearing long johns under her pants, too? If so, her legs were too slender, even with the layers of material around them. Her low-top hiking boots were caked with snow. She was small for a woman and fragile looking, way too thin to suit his taste. He could snap her bones with one good swipe of his paw.

He tugged on the sleeve of her coat and rolled her over. Her long hair covered her face in jumbles of thick strands. He used an extended claw to gently
swipe aside the thick jet-black hair, then stared down at her face. A large bruise was forming in the middle of her high forehead. He hadn’t noticed from their first encounter, but she had a girlish face and soft rosebud lips. Impossibly long dark lashes, too. Her features were delicate, almost ethereal, and there was an air of purity about her that grated against him. There was nothing innocent about her intentions. Something had brought her to the area, and she had foolishly followed Ethan. Most humans would have run in the opposite direction. Not this female.

In animal form his senses were heightened, and he could hear her heart beating, every pulse point in her body drumming softly. Her mouth was open, and tiny clouds of her breath condensed in the air. He bent down, feeling the tips of his whiskers brushing her cheek. The sensation sent an awareness of her that made an eyebrow raise and his blood quicken.

He wanted to pull back, but he found himself moving in closer to suck in her breath, absorb her essence. Her scent was far different than that of most human females. Sweet and tempting, fey to be sure. She definitely gave off a supernatural impression, an enchanted vibe he couldn’t figure out. Whatever it was, he found it fascinating and impossible to ignore. It was like being pulled by a leash, or feeling the hypnotizing tug of a full moon. It touched something primal in him, stirred a reckless yearning to fill himself with her. He hated being drawn to her, for he knew what might happen if he totally gave in to his urges.

He broke her spell by shaking his head. She’d
actually made him salivate, and droplets of saliva went flying from his lips. He licked his mouth and came to a decision.

He knew he was stronger in shifter form and could cover more ground. He stretched out his legs, morphing his hips and shoulder joints. Skin stretched, tendons popped and muscles writhed as he stood upright. He bent and scooped her up into his arms. It surprised him how little she weighed. She hardly put a strain on his wounded shoulder and arm. He ran back up the mountain with ease, trying to ignore the small and helpless way she rocked in his arms. He wished she hadn’t come near him or Ethan.

In frustration, he threw back his head and let out a roar. The sound echoed through the mountains and carried for miles. He hoped Ethan got the message: contact him in some way. Why hadn’t he trusted Kane enough to seek him out, rather than hide from him? Didn’t he know all Kane wanted to do was help? Kane felt that familiar emptiness in his heart when he thought of Ethan, and before he could stop himself he was bending down to sniff the human’s hair. Her scent was like a balm, and he let it wash over him.

C
harles Billingsly, Kane’s butler, held ice on the woman’s forehead while Kane searched through the belongings that he’d taken from her car. Charles, a seniph, was pencil thin. His balding pate glistened in the lights. Freckles dotted his nose, and his gray goatee and mustache were trimmed with mechanical precision. He managed Kane’s home, Lionsgate, and its staff with the same meticulousness. Charles insured Kane’s privacy was never infringed upon. Sometimes Kane wouldn’t see a maid or gardener for weeks on end. Kane didn’t know how Charles managed it, but he liked that the staff stayed well away from him and out of harm’s way.

Ever since Kane could remember, Charles had worked at Lionsgate. Charles’s family took pride in having served the Van Cleaves for over three hundred years in the capacity of butlers, maids, gardeners and chauffeurs.
Charles’s wife did all the cooking on the estate, and his three sons supervised the vineyard and the making of the wine. Running a vineyard and an estate was truly a family affair, and Charles and his relatives were the closest thing Kane had to family, though he’d never allowed himself to get too close, for their own good.

Charles was the only person Kane permitted to cross that line. The butler had been there for Kane during the death of his parents, Ethan’s disease and finally Kane’s own reckless descent. He was loyal to a fault, would do anything asked of him and didn’t seem afraid of Kane as others in the pride were. He’d always been a bulwark in Kane’s life, the one person with whom Kane shared his true feelings.

Kane scowled over at Charles. An eager-to-please expression rarely left the servant’s face, but at the moment he didn’t look at all enthused about his task. He held the ice on the woman’s forehead with two fingers while he kept a wary eye on her as if she were a sea hag about to rise out of the water.

Charles studied the woman’s face. “There’s something weird about her. Can you feel it?”

Kane paused from rummaging through the pockets of her torn coat. Nothing there but old tissues. He was glad that someone else experienced the odd attraction, and the allure he felt wasn’t just his imagination. “Yes. What do you think it is?”

“Clearly magic of some sort. She appears human, but there’s a definite enchantment about her.” Charles bent and sniffed. “It’s strong, too. I can feel the pull all the way to my insides.”

“Me, too,” Kane said, tossing aside the coat.

Charles bent lower, placing his nose above her face. Being that close to her caused the butler’s stiff guards to come tumbling down, and a silly grin broke over his face. “What is it about her that makes you want to rub up against her and lick her? Kinda like taking a bath in warm crème. Good grief, she smells delectable….” Charles’s tongue flicked out, his fangs flashing.

Kane felt a snap of possessiveness as he barked, “Get a grip, man. Don’t fall under her spell.”

Charles blinked and seemed to realize what’d he’d been about to do. For a moment, he looked flummoxed; then he regained his dignity. His cheeks turned red. He cleared his throat and straightened, backing as far away from her as he could and still hold the ice pack. “I’m so sorry, sir. She glamoured me. I just couldn’t help it. She’s—”

“I know,” Kane finished for him. “Real trouble.” Kane had asked Charles to tend her wounds because he feared making a fool of himself as the butler had just done. Now he regretted his hasty decision. He’d much rather have tasted her cheek than become aware of this envious feeling for her. He’d been so careful about keeping his distance from everyone. He wasn’t about to let this tiny wisp of a human rattle his defenses. No, he was stronger than that.

“Imagine if a hunting party found her, the effect she would have on us all.” Charles shifted the ice pack so it wouldn’t fall. “Cleopatra herself didn’t have the allure of this human.”

“I know,” Kane said flatly, recalling the history of
the seniphs. Cleopatra had been an enchanted alpha who had almost single-handedly destroyed her own pride because every male, including humans, fought wildly to have her. They weren’t aware that when she tired of toying with them, they’d become quarry for one of her royal night hunts. This human might be as deadly. He trusted his instincts, and they were screaming at him that she was another Cleo, or worse.

Kane’s brows snapped together. He purposely kept his gaze from her, not tempting trouble, as he picked up her purse. The leather-fringed bag was as large as a briefcase and made of patchwork neon colors. One of the ugliest handbags Kane had ever seen. No fashion-conscious woman in her right mind would carry something like this. But then this woman had to be out of her mind to go after a gleaner—unless she had hoped to use her temptress powers on Ethan, which might have worked if Kane hadn’t intervened.

Kane noticed a slight tremor in his hands. He hoped it was from the wounds in his shoulder and arm and not that he was in close proximity to this human femme fatale. Opening the bag, he pulled out a rotting apple, some chunks of cheese in a baggy, a handful of hair clips of varying sizes and shapes, hand lotion, ChapStick, a pair of blue Ben Franklin sunglasses, several tampons— Charles pulled a face at the last bit of plunder. “Where the hell is her license?” Kane said.

Kane lost his patience and turned the bag upside down. A bright yellow wallet with a smiley face on it fell out. He glowered at it for a second, thinking he’d enjoy burning it when he was done with it.

Charles’s mustache wiggled in distaste. “I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to keep her here, sir.”

“She stays until I decide what to do with her.”

“But the Council, sir—”

Kane shot Charles a look that normally sent him into a hasty retreat. “Enough about the Council. I know the danger. That’s why I’m sending all of you away.”

Charles’s bushy gray brows snapped together. “But the house, sir. Who will take care of you?”

“I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. And I won’t put you in danger because of your loyalty to me. Go now, and leave with your family as soon as you can. And you haven’t seen me or this human. That clear?”

Charles made a zipper motion over his lips. “Nothing, sir.”

Kane thought a moment, then said, “And take your boys to the Rockies on me. They need a hunting vacation. So do you.” A seniph’s hunting vacation didn’t include guns. It was all shifter and nature.

Charles still looked unsure, crushing the ice pack between his hands. “At least let me tend your wounds, sir.”

“Nothing, remember?” Kane’s expression said this conversation had ended.

Charles heaved a loud sigh and gave a final nod. He would have clicked his heels had he been wearing Army boots instead of a pair of galoshes. He set the ice pack on a side table, gave Nina a distrustful but longing glance, then said, “Call me, sir, if I can be of service.”

“Thank you, you’ve helped enough.”

Kane listened to Charles’s footsteps clop through
the guest house; then the back door slammed. Charles’s minivan revved up; then the heavy snow engulfed the engine noise. It had snowed six inches and was still coming down in thick gusts.

Kane had brought the human here for privacy. The guest house was almost a mile from the main house, and it was cleaned only once a month. The less the staff knew, the better. And now that he knew he wasn’t imagining the enchanting allure of the human, he knew he had to keep her from everyone in the pride.

He pulled out a mound of credit cards from the smiley wallet. It seemed to be laughing at him, and he frowned as he found her license buried on the bottom. The mug shot made her look mousy and nervous, but she had a nice smile. He read on: Nina Rainwater. He paused over the name, couldn’t place it, then continued. Twenty-one years old. She resided on the Patomani Indian Reservation. Well, that explained her tanned coloring—then it hit him.

He recalled why Rainwater had sounded so familiar. Fala Rainwater had just become the new Guardian. News of her reign had just reached the pride’s council. They’d had a town meeting to announce it last week. So that’s where he’d heard the name. He’d never met the Guardian, but he’d heard rumors, one being that the bloodline of the Guardian came from female Patomani Indians, more particularly Rainwater women. Meikoda Rainwater, Fala’s grandmother, had been the prior Guardian. The Guardian was supposedly the most powerful shaman alive, defender of all goodness on earth. He cocked a skeptical brow at that myth. As far
as he could tell, there was no goodness anywhere, and evil was winning hands down.

His thoughts strayed back to Nina Rainwater and her formidable relatives. If one of her relatives was the Guardian, what was Nina Rainwater? There were no myths or rumors regarding her powers, but he and Charles—and Kane suspected Ethan—had felt her influence. Had she been sent here to eradicate Ethan? That would surely complicate matters. And what about disposing of her? It might bring down the wrath of the Guardian as well as the Patomani council of shamans. Not if he steered them elsewhere and removed all evidence of her.

He wished he’d never seen Nina Rainwater. He couldn’t let her go now, because she knew too much. And she’d had the ability to track Ethan quite a distance. Even Kane’s heightened senses weren’t able to trace
Ethan
. He gave off no physical scent; his body burned it off. And the snow had covered his tracks. But he noticed that when Ethan had cloaked himself, she had been stumped, too. Maybe there was a limit to her powers. Another mystery about her that he didn’t like. Once he got the truth out of her, he’d have to take care that all evidence of her was cleaned out, and he’d have to dump her car far away from here. He’d driven it deeper into the woods, in a ravine, and covered it with leaves and branches. A temporary fix, but not for long.

Something bulged from the wallet’s zipper compartment. He opened it and found her business cards: Happy Face Inc., Pet Psychic When You Need One, Day or Night. It had her name, email address and
telephone number at the bottom. Perhaps her psychic powers had led her to Ethan. He hoped the Guardian hadn’t sent her here. Just how powerful was she? He could still feel the hypnotic pull of her charmed body.

He turned and threw the hideous purse and wallet into the fireplace. He poked it, jabbing it deep into the logs, then looked at Nina Rainwater. She was still as death, but the color had come back to her skin, and her body had stopped trembling. She looked petite and lost in the king-size bed. Her hair fanned out around her head on the pillow. Firelight danced blue highlights along the thick dark strands. Charles had tucked her beneath the covers to warm her. With all those layers of clothes on, it must not have taken long.

Kane grimaced, remembering how he couldn’t allow himself near her. Charles had put ice on the nasty knot that had formed above her brows, but it had still grown to the size of a quarter and turned purple. It looked like an all-seeing third eye, and he almost felt it staring at him.