"Stop whining." The voice cut like a knife. Hard. Merciless. An authority.
Airiana closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, concentrating on slowing her breathing, not wanting to take any chances that she could be heard. It helped to slow the wild beating of her heart and hopefully that would keep Lexi from a full-blown panic attack.
Her younger sister rarely left the farm unless it was for business, and then she never went alone. She still suffered panic attacks, and their counselor had said it was possible she always would, but that Lexi would find the tools to better handle them. Hiding in the bushes with men hunting them was not going to help.
Footsteps drew closer. Lexi pushed her palm into the ground. She was bound to earth, and Airiana had noticed that often, when Lexi was agitated, she would press her palms into the soil and that simple action seemed to soothe her, just as she spun in a circle with her arms wide and embraced the open air.
Lexi's teeth began to chatter. Airiana couldn't blame her. The footsteps were getting closer. She could hear the one who had been swearing. She couldn't hear the second man, and it was that man who scared her the most. She felt his power in the air around her, in the dense fog surrounding them.
She lifted Lexi's face, framing it with both hands, love welling up. "Listen to me, little sister. I believe these men only want me." She whispered the words, let the scant inch of air separating their faces carry the thread of sound to her sister. "I want you to stay right here. Don't move. Stay here until Lissa comes for you. Don't even come out for Damon. Just Lissa. She'll find you. Do you understand me?"
Lexi frowned and pressed her forehead against Airiana's, shaking her head slightly as if she knew what Airiana was going to say.
"I'm going to lead them away from you. I'll make a run for Judith's house. Thomas has all kinds of weapons there. I've gotten pretty good with a gun."
Lexi shook her head adamantly and clutched at Airiana's arm.
"I can't let them take you, Lexi. I can't. I wouldn't survive it. And they could use you against me. This is for me too. If they get me, Judith can unite all of your gifts and you'll find me. But if they have you too, I'll do whatever they ask me to do and they'll kill us both faster."
Her project. That horrible, wonderful project she'd begun all those years ago. Someone knew about it and they wanted it. There was no other explanation. Her mother had died over that project. Damon's assistant had most likely been killed over it and Damon's legs had been crushed. How many more people had been affected? She had no idea, but Lexi wasn't going to be one of them.
"Do you understand? I'm not abandoning you. I can't let them take you," she repeated fiercely. They'd talked too much. Even though she'd been careful, whoever had the power to manipulate air the way this man did would probably feel that slight disturbance eventually.
Airiana leaned forward and kissed Lexi's cheek, squeezed her hand and put her mouth up against her ear. "I love you. I love all of you."
She leapt up and ran for the path leading to Judith's house. Twigs snapped, vines slapped at her legs and leaves crunched beneath her feet. She ran as if her life depended upon it, and it probably did.
Behind her, she heard running footsteps slamming into the ground. He was following her, the one who had done the swearing, Lexi was safe if the other followed as well.
She hit something hard, so hard she thought she ran into a tree. There was no give in the trunk and her breath left her lungs in a long, painful gasp. Arms closed around her--strong arms--the kind that didn't feel when she punched and kicked and struggled, trying to execute just one of the self-defense moves she had learned. He simply lifted her off the ground, slung her over his shoulder without a word and strode through the already thinning fog.
3
AIRIANA would not go with him. Screaming would only draw Lexi out of her hiding spot, so there was little point in indulging her fear. There was no one to hear her but these men--and Lexi--everyone else was away. She would not bring her younger sister into danger she was certain was hers.
She made up her mind she wasn't going with this man. Wherever he was taking her was definitely a place she didn't want to go. She forced her mind to calm. To think. Her brain was her best defense, at least both Levi and Thomas insisted it was. To make her assailant continue to think she was panicked she kept struggling, but her mind was already laying out the farm in grids for her.
She began to weave the fog, binding it into long ropes as she pounded on his back with her fists. She timed his steps and threw a loop over his back foot as he raised it. He stumbled, nearly dropping her, forced to catch himself. Quickly she looped the fog around his neck and head, dropping it over him like a hood. She kicked hard, driving backward, using her legs and arms for momentum as well as his forward fall to throw herself off.
She hit the ground hard and rolled away from him, scrambling on all fours in an effort to make it into the brush. He threw out his hand blindly, but unerringly, probably feeling, as she could now, exactly the position of everyone around him in the fog.
He shackled her ankle with his hand--a big hand. He was a big man and incredibly strong. Once his fingers circled her ankle, she felt not only his strength, but his will surrounding her flesh and bones. She also felt his shock at her fight--and his amusement. Well, he wouldn't be amused for long. She turned over as he dragged her back to him, and kicked his knee hard, once again using his own force against him, driving hard with her combat boot.
He grunted and the amusement vanished. He hung on to her, knocking her leg down when she came in for a second kick. Her leg went numb with the force of his blow. She felt the burn of tears, an automatic reaction. That just made her even angrier.
Fighting him physically was impossible and his hold on her ankle seemed unbreakable. She forced her body to relax while she went back to what she was most familiar with. She could manipulate air. Sitting up fast as he crouched down, his upper body coming toward her, she shoved air at him with both hands, a burst of wind at a frightening rate of speed. Honestly, she hadn't meant to push so hard, but she was terrified, angry and determined.
The wind caught him square in the chest, lifted him and threw him back. She was up and running again, pretending she was a gazelle and could run fast. Running had never been her thing. Blythe and Lissa could run forever and enjoy it, but she had always considered it a waste of time. Now, she called on air to keep her lungs filled, to move through her body and aid her as she sprinted as fast as she could.
She hit a barrier, soft this time, and knew it was a net of woven fog. The moment she encountered it, skin to fog, it wrapped around her like a sticky spiderweb. The more she struggled, the tighter it got. She closed her eyes and pushed down a sob as she once again found the control to stop moving her body when she wanted to scream and tear wildly at the bonds holding her prisoner.
Taking a breath, she tested the ropes, trying to find a weak strand. He was adept, extremely skilled, but he had to work fast and that meant his weave wasn't perfect. She tried not to admire his work, but his will was iron and somehow he embedded sheer determination within his weave of air. She tested several strands and realized he was so certain he had won that he wasn't running to catch up with her, he was walking. Once again she could feel his amusement.
Airiana turned her attention to her assailant. With every movement he made, he displaced air and transmitted information to her. He was well over six feet with very broad shoulders and a thick chest. His body felt mainly muscle. He was a machine, she realized, a fighting machine. He was purposeful and confident. He knew she was small and he felt completely in control.
She tilted her chin, holding herself still so once again she appeared resigned to her fate. Very slowly, so as not to disturb the air around her, she began to weave a thin chain going from one tree to the other just in front of her, the trees he would have to pass to get to her if he continued in a straight line. It was a long, very thin strand, neck high, impossible to see in the surrounding fog.
&
nbsp; She concentrated on defiance and fear as her uppermost emotions, knowing he could read both just as she could feel his amusement at her pitting herself against him. He didn't seem the least inclined to call to his partner to help him. Both things told her he was arrogant and definitely felt in charge.
Once again she began to test the strands holding her prisoner. She would only have seconds to loosen the ropes of fog if her plan worked. She had to have a place to start. Up around her shoulder was a thinner strand and she concentrated on it. She felt the exact moment that the man hit the "clothesline" she'd fashioned.
For one small second the bonds loosened and she struck at the weak link, lightning fast. He went down hard, and this time he swore--in Russian. Her heart contracted painfully in her chest. She backed away from him and turned to run. She had taken four steps when he tackled her and brought her down just as hard. She hit the ground, his body over hers, both of his arms wrapped around her waist and the considerable weight of him slamming her to the ground.
She cried out, the force of the blow driving the air from her lungs. She couldn't have moved if she wanted to. Her body went slack and her lungs burned painfully. She gasped, a fish out of water, desperate to breathe, her diaphragm spasming.
He turned her over, surprisingly gentle, his hands going around to the back of her waist, lifting her slightly to ease the cramping. "Just breathe. You'll be all right."
Intellectually she knew he was right, but the reality of not being able to catch her breath left her panic-stricken.
He lifted her again, and the breath slipped back into her lungs. The air around them shifted and she could see his face now. A man's face. Purely masculine, except, perhaps, for the long lashes framing his glacier-blue eyes. He had the coldest eyes she'd ever seen. She shivered, terror pushing at the edges of her control. He looked invincible. He felt invincible.
"I'm not going to hurt you unless you make me. We have to get you out of here and I don't have much time to explain to you. Your father sent me. I'm not with the others, and you'll need to stick close to me so I can help you."
He pushed the words into the small space of air between them, using the technique she had used with Lexi. It was a thread of sound that couldn't go anywhere other than straight where the thread was directed.
"I don't have a father."
"You do, and he wants you safe."
"If you were trying to help me, you'd let me go," she pointed out.
He lifted her into his arms. His strength and the sheer hardness of his body were overwhelming, making her feel as though it would be impossible to defeat him.
"You are no longer safe here. These men with me want you for a very different reason than me. Follow my lead and I'll see to your safety."
He was covering ground fast with long strides. Never once did she hear his breath hitch. He moved with fluid steps, with a strange grace for a man his size. He seemed to flow over the ground rather than step, never once jarring her.
"Let me go." Airiana tried to keep the plea from her voice, but it was there. That quiver of fear she couldn't quite suppress.
"I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Once I get you to safety, your father wants a few words with you. Then you're free to do as you wish, once the threat has been taken care of."
"I told you, I don't have a father."
"His name is Theodotus Solovyov." He waited a moment as if she might have heard the name.
The fog thinned more, allowing her to make out the helicopter sitting in the middle of Lexi's carefully planted field.
She gasped. "You ruined Lexi's lettuce."
It was now or never. Once he had her in that helicopter, he could take her anywhere. She felt him startle at her words, the beginnings of amusement--it was always nice to have information on one's enemy--and she knew he had a sense of humor.
She hit him hard with her fist right under his chin and leapt out of his arms--or tried to. He caught her before she actually touched ground, yanking her none too gently back against his chest as if she was a rag doll.
"Stop it," he hissed between his teeth. "You keep it up and I'm going to knock you out. It's for your own good. You're in danger."
She knew she wasn't going to get away, that she had no real chance. The knowledge hit her hard. She'd been certain with her gifts she would manage her freedom, but this man was far more knowledgeable than she was when it came to manipulating air. She wasn't going to make it out of this. No one was going to get there in time to save her, and she couldn't save herself.
Visions of her mother, cut to pieces on her bedroom floor, rose up. She would rather die right there. She had nothing to give these people. She hadn't worked on the project in close to eight years. What could she possibly tell them even if they tortured her? She fought back burning tears. The lump in her throat burned as they approached the helicopter.
There were two others beside the pilot inside the helicopter and a third, probably the man who had hunted with her captor, stood outside of it. Her heart sank. They were heavily armed. She couldn't stop her body from shivering and the man carrying her drew her closer to his body as if sheltering her with his heat.
"Maxim, you got her," the man on the ground greeted.
"Of course," her captor snapped briskly. "Was there any doubt? Let's get out of here. This took longer than expected."
He didn't hand her into the helicopter although one of the men inside reached for her. Maxim leveled a look at him and the stranger stepped back. Slinging her over his shoulder, he crouched and jumped, landing softly on the soles of his feet inside the helicopter. He swept past the others, slipping her back in front of him, almost hiding her from the others as he made his way to the back of their transportation.
The moment he set her in a seat, she shrank away from him. He acted as if he didn't notice, but snapped a seat belt around her. "Don't give me any trouble," he said, once again using that thread of sound. "Our lives depend on your cooperation."
The men kidnapping her were definitely Greek. Well, not Maxim, she was fairly certain he was Russian. The men were talking back and forth rather abruptly and she recognized the Greek language. The other man leapt into the helicopter, his weapon in a ready position, as if he was prepared for combat. She was grateful that Levi and Thomas were away from the farm.
She bit her lip hard, not looking at any of the men, knowing that would terrify her more. She kept her eyes glued to her safe haven, the farm where she had finally managed to feel happy and alive.
She couldn't go with them. That was a certainty. Wherever they were taking her would only end in torture and death anyway. She had nothing to exchange for her life, and she wouldn't want to anyway. These men could very well have been the ones who had murdered her mother.
Airiana couldn't prevent the delicate shudder that ran through her body. She hadn't made a sound, but beside her, Maxim turned his head abruptly to look at her, as if without looking, he had still felt the tremor running through her.
"I'll keep you safe," he promised, the sound clear in her ear.
His voice should have instilled confidence. It was strong and commanding, just like the man himself, almost bordering on arrogance, but that only added to her belief that there was no hope of escaping him. The helicopter lifted from the lettuce field, banked sharply and began to fly toward the sea. They had left the doors open so the gunners had a clear shot should they be interrupted.
She doubted they would be. The sound of the helicopter itself seemed to be muffled, rather than the loud ones she was familiar with. Whoever had hired these men to kidnap her had money. Lots of it.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the air outside. Not the fog this time. A heavy wind could wreak havoc with a helicopter. She knew from the sea rescues performed by the forestry department that it was dangerous to fly in winds, especially when near the cliffs. And they were moving fast toward those cliffs.
She waited in silence, allowing herself to look through her long tangle of eyelash
es at the scenery as they passed over Sea Haven. She tried to reach out to her sisters, to at least encompass them with her love. They meant the world to her. They'd given her back her life.
She built the storm slowly, carefully, not wanting Maxim to notice the difference in the clouds forming just ahead of them. Of course the pilot noticed. He grunted and said something under his breath she couldn't hear.
"Don't do anything stupid," Maxim warned.
She didn't look at him. She didn't look anywhere at all, holding herself still. Waiting. Airiana was a patient person, and there was no need to engage with any of them. She doubted if any of them would make it out of the helicopter alive.
Airiana waited until they were over the ocean, close to the cliffs, and she lifted her arms and called the wind. Using every bit of force and determination in her, she drew the wind from the sea, from the air, from the upper atmosphere. Waterspouts erupted from the ocean, climbing high, spinning like giant fingers reaching for them. The wind slammed into the helicopter and sent it spinning out of control, straight for the jutting bluffs and the sea-stacks.
For the first time, she felt Maxim's anger. It radiated from him, a dark, monstrous entity that enveloped her, swallowing her whole. He slammed his palm into her arm, knocking it down, giving her a dead arm. She thought he might have broken it. His shoulder hit her next, shoving her hard against the wall of the helicopter as it spun madly.
Maxim threw his own hands into the air and wove a pattern quickly, overshadowing her command, taking back control. The helicopter slowly righted itself, although not before the men were thrown around and one nearly was pitched into the sea.
"What the hell, Roman?" one called to the pilot. He was a swarthy man with a dark complexion, the one who had run after her with Maxim in the fog.
"Shut the hell up, Cyreck," the pilot snapped back, clearly still fighting to keep them from crashing into the water below. "Is everyone all right back there? Did we lose anyone?"
"Istvan nearly went out the door," Cyreck reported, "but Deke managed to hang on to him. All of us got thrown around."
"What about the prisoner?" Roman demanded.