Under His Wings (11 page)

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Where the hell is she?

Rage sizzled over his skin along with the power that changed
him from hippogryph to human. He didn’t bother with clothes as he stalked
across the shadowed backyard and climbed up the back porch of the home that
neighbored Tamar’s.

Three nights.
He snarled, jerking open the door and
entering the kitchen. He bypassed the bloodied, limp female sprawled on the
brown-and-white tile floor and paid little attention to the human male slumped
on the living room couch with his throat ripped out.

He mounted the steps, his bare feet slapping the hardwood
floor. After commandeering this house, he’d staked out Tamar’s home. And for
three nights it sat empty. With a low growl, he shoved into the bedroom that
granted an unrestricted view of the dark residence that belonged to his prey.
Leaving the light off, he propped a shoulder against the wall next to the
window and took up his nightly vigil even as he acknowledged its uselessness.

Somehow Nicolai had gotten to the woman first. And most
likely secreted her away to a safe house while he, Lukas, Adon and Dorian
continued the hunt.

His lip curled. How fucking predictable.

He should abandon this place since it was highly doubtful
Tamar would return. Yet this present location provided better lodging than the
dour motel rooms he’d been holed up in. And since the quarters were currently
available… A glint of humor lightened his foul mood. The couple had been
necessary collateral damage for the battle. He hadn’t even given their deaths
his usual detailed attention.

So what was the next step? He tapped a finger against his
bottom lip. As if in answer, a shadow passed over the roof of Tamar’s home. The
wide dark shade circled, but the figure that cast it never appeared.

It didn’t need to.

Nicolai and the
krinos
—they searched for him. But
Evander had been trained by the best warrior of their people. They wouldn’t
find him until he was ready.

Evander smiled. If Nicolai had hidden Tamar in one of the
safe houses, this meant he and the human female were confined in close
quarters. The prince would grow more enamored of the Pria lookalike, falling
for her. And when he lost her, it would be even more devastating. Then it would
be Nicolai’s turn for death. Which Evander intended to draw out and enjoy.

But before Nicolai took his last breath, he would know he’d
failed his people by harboring a rogue right under his nose for months without
realizing it. He’d executed the wrong brother and an innocent.

Gregor, I will have justice for you
, he mouthed to
the night sky as the shadow disappeared.

An eye for an eye. A life for a life.

Chapter Six

A couple of hours later, Tamar entered the small but
well-equipped kitchen. Nicolai and Adon had already left for their evening hunt
for Evander which meant the elusive Lukas and Dorian were on babysitting duty.
She’d yet to see the men Nicolai had told her belonged to his unit. From his
description, she gathered they were the hippogryph counterpart of Special
Forces. Well, they were good at remaining out of sight—she was alone and, damn
it, lonely.

As dangerous and unwise as the yearning was, she wanted
Nicolai.

She prepared a simple dinner of baked chicken and salad. As
she’d done every night since arriving in the cabin, she made four more
plates—two for the invisible men who guarded her and two for Nicolai and Adon
when they returned from their hunt. She placed Lukas and Dorian’s dinners
outside on the porch and the remaining meals in the refrigerator.

To alleviate the heavy silence, she turned on the television
to a syndicated sitcom. The laugh track granted her the false pretense of not
being lost and isolated. A couple of quiet, uneventful hours passed. Night fell
early in the mountains and soon the yawns were cracking her jaw open at
ten-minute intervals. Deciding to turn in, she recovered the wiped-clean dinner
plates from the porch, cleaned up the kitchen and ascended the staircase for
the last time that night—maybe. Exhaustion weighed down her limbs. Hopefully
she wouldn’t be back downstairs in a couple of hours pacing the floor.

When she entered the bedroom assigned to her, the first
rumble of thunder rolled across the night sky. She hurried over to the bedside
lamp, flicked it on and couldn’t contain her sigh of relief as the soft light
beat back the darkness. The anxiety that always tagged along with the dark
eased and she slid into bed. Huddling under the covers, she closed her eyes and
willed sleep to come.

Hours—maybe minutes—later, Tamar jerked up in bed. Unsure of
what woke her, her head swiveled from side to side. The room was a black hole.
Her heart pummeled her chest, rising up and down like a seesaw. She sucked in
several deep gulps of air and her breath was a harsh roar in the silence. Her
fingers clutched the blanket, the material bunched in her grasp.

Trembling, she released her death grip on the covers and
reached toward the lamp. But a jerk on the chain brought no result. Panic stole
up her throat, crafty and with malicious joy. Suddenly she was transported back
in time, had returned to her bedroom at home, fumbling with the lamp next to
her bed, desperate to have light wash throughout the room. But no matter how
many times she flipped the switch the room remained dark. Later she discovered
Kyle had deliberately unplugged the lamp, using her fear to torment her.

A mewl like a wounded creature escaped her and the sound
horrified and humiliated her. It had been three years since the crash, damn it!
Children were afraid of the dark, not twenty-eight-year-old women.

But the scolding didn’t take away the tremors that shook her
body. Or the heart-numbing terror that had her gaze darting around the room as
if she was a cornered animal. Again she whimpered. To contain the next shameful
moan, she sank her teeth into her bottom lip, threw back the covers and swung
her legs over the edge of the mattress.

Biting her lip didn’t help. The panicked sounds were a
continuous stream from her throat as she pushed off the bed and stumbled
several feet in the direction of the bedroom door. Her knee struck a solid,
heavy object she assumed was the dresser. Tamar cried out, the pain jolting up
her leg, adding to the frantic pounding of her heart.

A deafening crash rang out in the room.

She shrank back against the wall, her arms cradling her
head.

“Tamar?”

The familiar voice tore another cry from her. Relief leaked
past the consuming grip of fear, but not enough to loosen her vocal cords so
she could call out to Nicolai. All she could manage was another mortifying
whimper.

It was enough.

One moment she huddled beside the dresser and in the next
Nicolai’s hands grasped her upper arms. He dragged her close before wheeling
around and shoving her behind him. She panted, her forehead pressed to his
warm, hard back, her fingers curled into fists against his waist.

The part of her that had survived a plane crash and abusive
ex-boyfriend ordered her to stand up straight and get herself together. She
wasn’t this weak cowering woman hiding behind Nicolai. But the primal creature
in her had taken over—the primitive part that believed in order to live she
must scramble to the cover of the strongest for protection.

“What’s wrong?” he barked. “Who’s here?”

She shook her head, opened her mouth to speak. When only a
hoarse moan emerged, she snapped her lips closed, swallowed and tried again.

“The light,” she croaked.

The tension slowly bled from his large frame.

Tamar waited. Braced herself for the exasperated sigh. The
you-got-to-be-kidding-me snarl or the don’t-be-fucking-ridiculous ridicule.
She’d heard it so often from Kyle it could have been his mantra.

But unlike her ex, if Nicolai condemned her as absurd or
silly, she would be an emotional Humpty Dumpty crushed into so many pieces she
wouldn’t be able to put them back together again.

“The power went out with the storm,” he said gently.

As if to underscore his explanation, thunder boomed outside
the window.

You know what thunder is
, her mother’s voice
whispered inside her head.
It’s God and the angels bowling. When there’s
lightning, God’s made a strike.

It was too much.

The phobic terror of the dark. Memories of Kyle and his
cruelty. Nicolai rushing to her rescue.

She broke.

Tears scalded her eyelids then streamed down her cheeks in
hot trails. Sobs rose up out of her soul and clawed past the blockade of pride
to pour out in harsh, racking coughs.

“Oh sweetheart.”

Strong arms clamped around her, pulled her to a wide, naked
chest. Her cheek stuck to his skin, her tears the glue that bonded them. Over
her cries she caught the soothing murmurs he crooned. A hand that could easily
frame her head smoothed down her hair and a tender kiss ghosted across her
forehead.

Tamar didn’t protest when Nicolai swept her up in his arms,
cradled her in his embrace and carried her from the room. Nor did she utter a
word when he settled her next to him on the living room floor. Weak moonlight
streamed into the room through the windows, alleviating the dense blackness of
the cabin. He retrieved the match and flint box from beside the fireplace and,
with expert hands, removed the screen, lit the logs and replaced the mesh
covering.

The orange flames crackled and leapt, hungrily eating the
wood. Heat licked the air and soon penetrated and thawed the ice that had
formed beneath her skin when she’d woken in complete darkness. She shivered and
Nicolai frowned before rising from the floor in a single breath-stealing
display of strength and agility. Her gaze followed as he glided soundlessly
across the floor to a closet. He pulled the door open and several moments later
returned to her, arms piled with blankets, sheets and pillows.

He flipped open one cover and draped it over her shoulders
like a shawl. Then he prepared a thick pallet on the floor. The firelight
played over him as he carried out the task. Except for a low-riding pair of
black cotton drawstring pants, he was left bare to her fascinated gaze. The
fire cast a reddish hue over his golden skin, emphasizing the wide breadth of
his shoulders, delineating the tight muscles of his abdomen. And when he
hunkered down to tuck the corners of the sheet beneath the covers…
Oh good
God.
His hard thighs bunched under the thin material of his pants…and his
ass…

She closed her eyes, shutting out the temptation his
beautiful body presented. Desire lapped at her like the flames nibbling on the
logs in the fireplace. The heat that sparked and flickered to life inside her
stomach couldn’t be attributed to any man-made fire. She trembled, opened her
eyes.

Nicolai stared at her.

Frozen, he kept his weight balanced on the balls of his feet
and his arms resting on his thighs. His lavender eyes burned, studying her as
if he was aware of the passion that wended through her veins, leaving a molten
path in its wake.

Then his nostrils flared slightly, his chest rose on an
almost imperceptible breath and Tamar’s gut coiled, perspiration broke out on
her palms.

He did know. He could smell her arousal.

Several long, silent moments stretched between them.

Common sense urged her to look away from his unblinking
contemplative gaze. But she couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.

He was the first to break the connection. With a sinuous
grace that reminded her of the beast that lurked beneath the skin of the man,
he prowled over the pallet and sank beside her. Always before he’d respected
her personal space—a deliberate gap separating them.

Tonight he didn’t allow it.

Tonight he pressed to her from thigh to hip, his arm a solid
weight against her shoulder. When she inhaled it was his scent she
breathed—sweet wind and wild heather. They’d only been this close in her dreams
but the intimacy was…natural. She didn’t feel crowded.

She was protected. Even if it was just for tonight, she
cautiously lowered her guard, allowed him in.

A peek down at the front of his pants revealed she was
wanted too. Knowing how that thick, rigid length would stretch and burn her
deep inside until she molded to fit his cock perfectly…how it would shuttle in
and out with slow, rolling thrusts of his hips…how that perfect, muscular ass
would contract and release under her palms…

She shifted, drew her legs up to her chest and held on for
dear life.

Next to her Nicolai’s breathing deepened. Once again, he was
smelling her desire for him, tasting it in the air.

By all rights, mortification should be burning her up, not
lust.

Somebody should explain that to her body. Maybe write a
letter because her creaming sex wasn’t getting the memo.

As the quiet enveloped them in its snug cocoon, Tamar could
imagine they were in a fantasy—alone, safe from danger and phobias. The weight
of his unspoken questions hung between them and, for once, she wasn’t defensive
or ashamed about admitting her weaknesses.

“I’m afraid of the dark,” she confessed into the silence. “I
know it’s silly—”

A dismissive wave of his hand cut her off. “Never apologize
for how you feel,” he said. “Can you tell me why?”

“Three years ago I was in a plane crash.”

Nicolai nodded, telling her without words he knew of the
incident that had forever altered her life.

“I was flying to California for a mini-summer vacation and
the plane encountered turbulent weather over the Sierra Nevada. It was to be a
sky-diving trip. My first.” She shook her head, smiled but wasn’t the least bit
amused. “Ironic, really, since the thought of flying now scares the shit out of
me. Anyway, the plane was small, chartered. I was the only survivor out of
fourteen people…including the pilots. When I woke up it was pitch black and my
entire left side was pinned to my seat by a sheet of steel. I thought I was in
hell. It was dark, hot and I could smell my flesh burning…” She swallowed
convulsively several times as the memory threatened to drag her under.

A warm touch on her knee anchored her to the present.

She glanced down and the sight of his long-fingered capable
hand lent her the strength to continue. Bit by bit, she lowered her legs,
crossed them. And held onto him.

“Somehow I slid from under the sheet, and learned later I
had left the entire upper dermis of my skin with it. But I got out of the
plane, climbing over the bodies of the other passengers.” A tremor quaked
through her as she recalled the horror of her fingers and feet digging into
charred and mutilated flesh as she scrambled over the corpses, sometimes using
their dead weight as purchase to escape the burning wreckage.

“I don’t remember much after that,” she whispered. “I only
knew darkness for so long—first at the crash site and then in the hospital
where they kept me in a medicated coma. Sometimes I would surface, but I still couldn’t
focus, couldn’t see anything…couldn’t move. I was trapped, a prisoner in my own
body. That’s when I started dreaming about you.”

Nicolai started next to her, surprised.

“Three years?” he asked, his voice a rough rasp. “You
dreamed about me for three years?”

She nodded. Opened her mouth then snapped it closed.
You
already got one foot in. Might as well jump in deep shit with both of them.

“I would see you fighting. Sometimes you had a sword, other
times you fought with your hands and legs like some kind of martial arts. But
never as a hippogryph,” she said, shaking her head. “Always bare-chested, with
wings.”Tamar lowered her lashes as longing rose in her throat, clogged
her air passage. “As a matter of fact, I called you my winged warrior.”

“Sweetheart,” he murmured.

“You saved me,” she blurted. “You were the reason I didn’t
lose my sanity while in the hospital. I didn’t mind going into the dark because
I knew you would be there. Yes, you were a figment of my imagination, but as
foolish as it sounds, you helped me get through the worst period of my life.
Even after I started to heal enough for them to bring me out of the coma for
good and my days were filled with pain and depression, I could endure it.” She
paused and dipped her head when she made the final, soul-baring admission. “All
because I knew when I closed my eyes at night you would be there. Waiting for
me.”

“I didn’t know,” he said, lifting a hand to her face and
cupping it.

The hardened, calloused palm was a delicious abrasion over
her skin. It reminded her of the great power he wielded. She closed her eyes
and rubbed against him like a cat. She needed his touch to bare the next ugly
chapter of her story.