“Death.”
“Okay, then,” Lucan said. “I’ll call you Prince Risen because death doesn’t hold a whole lot of appeal. Not today. Ask me tomorrow. I assume Cullen calls you the same?”
He nodded. “He does. As does Jag. I am the one who brought them together for the Council.” He took a step closer. Stopped shoulder to shoulder. “You know who else calls me friend?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Salvador. Only I am not bound by the same rules as he. As long as you wear those bracelets and the mark of the Guardians, you are a target. There is more that will come your way, much more. I’ve protected you, but heed my warning. These are dire times. Make the right choices, Lucan, so I don’t have to do what neither Jag, nor Salvador, wont do.”
It wasn’t a threat. In fact, there was regret in the words, hope that that the promise they held – that of death – would not be fulfilled. He didn’t return to the meeting. Instead, he took to the hallway, then the stairwell – and headed for the roof. He needed air. He needed a clock to turn back time.
He shoved open the rooftopl door, took to the outdoors in escape. Stood at the edge of the wall. He was not going to fail again, and it killed him to know that the Fae doubted this, killed him because he imagined that to be what Jag and the Knights believed. That made him mad. Made him mad at them, because he was done being mad at himself. He’d spent a year doing that, and he was ready to get beyond it.
A tingling sensation danced down his back an instant before Jag orbed to his side, and Lucan was glad. Damn glad. He wanted to get this done with.
“Are you going to forgive me, Jag?” he demanded. “Are you going to allow me to come back to the Knights.”
“Allow you to come back?” he demanded. “Just like that? As if you had overslept work one day too many and simply got fired? Your forgot who you were, you forgot who we were. You have no idea how pissed I am at you. No idea how much I wanted to come drag your ass back just so I could kick it.”
“I’m here now,” Lucan said, holding his hands out, facing Jag.
Jag’s brows dipped. He waved a hand and a sword appeared in it. “Get on your knees.”
The blade shimmered with sunlight, a promise of death. Lucan had no idea what to expect, only that he was willing to take whatever came next willingly. The Fae had said Jag would not end his life, but Lucan knew no greater man, no one better to judge him. His actions had brought him here, full circle, where he belonged.
Jag stared at Lucan, “I cannot grant you return to the Knights without the removal of your connection to the Underworld but,” he offered Lucan the hilt of the sword, “I still trust you with my life. I am certain your brothers-in-arms will as well. But do not make us regret it.”
Lucan could barely breathe as he took that sword, his eyes burned with tears centuries old. “I will not let you down, Jag.”
“A vow perhaps not as easy to keep as we both might hope,” he said. “But one easier to keep with the strength of your fellow Knights beside you. I will have Marisol work on a way to break the Guardians' hold over you.
But what the Fae told you–what he had told me as well – is nothing we can dismiss. This hold the Guardians retain is dangerous. And the one way Adrian can still get to that ring is through the Guardians' bond with you and Kresley. She alone can remove it. He will try to find a way to get her to do so.
"Whatever control you think you have over the Guardians, I promise you, Lucan, Adrian will attempt to destroy it. You and Kresley are the most dangerous weapons that Adrian owns right now.”
Lucan tightened his hold on the hilt of the sword. Determination formed deep in his core, determination for both Kresley and him to escape the Guardians. He was done being Adrian’s weapon.
“Adrian might hold me prisoner, but he does not, nor has he ever, owned me,” He’d kept his soul, and he intended to keep his future. No matter how hard he had to fight to do it.
***
After hours of lying low, Nick rushed down the steps to the subway tunnel, the fast way to disappear, and public enough to discourage Adrian’s appearance. Adrian. It wasn’t enough that Nick he was revealed to Cullen as his traitor, and that he had lost his opportunity to steal the ring. He had to also consider the wrath of Adrian. Adrian would not be pleased. Adrian had expected Cullen to fall. Expected the wolves to be his allies.
He walked onto the train. Sat down near a door between cars. Good. A crowd. Time to think. If he could gain Adrian’s favor, he could still retain his following, still prevail. Find another way to get that damn ring.
A shiver ground its way up his spine. A warning. His eyes lifted, searched. The doors to a distant car moved. Someone entering. Another warning shouted through his nerve endings. Adrian. No. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t appear here. He wouldn’t. He sucked in air, held it in his lungs. Waited. The door slammed against the steel entry and Adrian appeared. Tall, blond, clad in black leather. People around him, a good ten or more, gaped. The women damn near purred. Nick damn near threw up.
Adrian walked to him, took his time, seemed to consume the very air in the car with his presence. It seemed to take years for him to reach Nick. Adrian stood above him, stared down at him with the disgust of someone about to smash a bug.
Nick launched into a proposal, a plea for another chance. “There is a Council that has come together to defeat you. I will destroy them. Kill them all one by one.”
“And you think that I, Adrian, do not know of this Council? You had your chance to destroy the Council by destroying Cullen. He will come for you.”
Of course, he would. Cullen would want his blood. “And I will defeat him. My followers no longer wish to bow down to humanity. They will fight.”
“You have too few little followers to win without the ring,” Adrian stated, heat radiating off his body like a furnace. “You will die. Your wolves will die with you.” The car went black, pitch black. Adrian’s hand clasp down on his throat, hot – so hot.
A moment later Nick blinked into the light, his feet dangling off the side of a high-rise building, his heart in his throat right beneath Adrian’s iron-fisted palm.
“I despise weakness,” Adrian spat at him. “The only reason I allow you to live is to be entertained. I wish to see exactly how easily Cullen tramples you when he attacks.”
“I’ll kidnap his assistant Sheila and her family. Force the confrontation on my terms. He will give me the ring to save her. He is – ” He choked, coughed. “He is fond of her. Protective.”
Adrian tilted his head, eyes flashing red, studied him. “You just bought yourself one last breath, wolf.”
And then dropped him. He fell and fell and fell, and though he knew this was Adrian’s warning, his torture, that he would not hit the ground , Nick screamed. And screamed. And screamed. It was not until he begged, that he landed back on the hard steel interior of the moving subway, his head smacking into a pole. This time he wasn’t screaming. The people around him were. But it would be him screaming again if he didn’t get that ring.
***
Adrian remained on the ledge on top of the building where he’d dropped the worthless wolf, and snapped his fingers. The Guardians appeared on the ground before him.
One look at Adrian’s face, and they went to their knees, bowing. “How might we serve you, Adrian.”
“I don’t care how you do it, what means or measures you take, but I want to possess the Firestarter. I want to own her every breath, her every action. And I want it now.”
They looked up at him, entwined their fingers, joining their powers. “As you wish,” they whispered and disappeared.
Chapter Twenty-One
Both fully dressed, expecting to be interrupted at any moment, Kresley and Lucan sat on the hotel bed and shared a piece of chocolate cheesecake from room service. It was well after sunset and the aftermath of the confrontation with Nick had been utter chaos, and though they had talked, a bit of quiet was remarkably healing. It was a luxury that wouldn’t last.
The Knights were due at the hotel any minute, having been delayed from an earlier arrival by a battle of some sort.
For safety reasons, everyone in their little group had taken temporary residence in the hotel, all in their own rooms, but a mere few footsteps away.
"Caramel?” Kresley asked Lucan, continuing their debate over the pros and cons of certain dessert choices. Pleasantly surprised, she’d learned he loved junk food as much as she did. “Prefer chocolate,” he said.
It was a silly conversation, she knew, but a needed one. They were both on Demon overload, both ready for a break from the threat of their personal doomsday. She nodded her approval. “Ice cream?”
He scooped up some whipped cream and fed it to her. “Never found a flavor I didn’t like.”
She snagged a bite of the cheesecake and savored it a moment, memories unraveling in her mind. It had been a big day, an eventful, dangerous day. She’d saved innocent lives by stopping Nick’s attempts to steal the ring, the innocent lives he surely would have destroyed with that kind of power. And it felt good. It felt right. It felt like her purpose. Kresley Ward, Firestarter– it had a pretty cool ring to it. She might not be a Xena Warrior princess, not yet. But she wanted to be. And if evil were going to seek her out, then she would find it first. It was scary but in an empowering, I-know-this-is-what-I-am-supposed-to-do kind of way.
And hearing about Lucan’s earlier meeting with Jag only added to that feeling. He had a chance to return to the ranch. They had a chance to survive this – and do it together. For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to consider that maybe she could be a part of a "we" without being a liability. She was more hopeful than ever that they would come out of all of this safely. They’d find a way to remove the marks. Destroy the rebel wolves. Go home to the ranch. That was how she saw it in her mind, and she was going to believe it would all happen that way.
She took another bite of cheesecake, and then half-choked as Jag and Marisol orbed into the room, right beside the bed. And they were not alone. They were the only two among the Knights who could orb, and they’d each brought a full load. Jag with Rock and Max in tow. Marisol with Des and Rinehart in tow.
“Hi guys,” she said softly, her gaze shifting to Lucan. He’d told her how uptight he was about this moment. No one responded to her greeting.
Born and bred into the military, Rinehart got right to the point. “Sonofabitch.”
Rock shoved his cowboy hat back and glared at Lucan. “Dumb ass.”
Then Max, “Bastard.”
“Hey man,” Des said, waving to Lucan a second before he plopped down on the bed beside Kresley and stroked his goatee. “Is that cheesecake?” he asked.
“Ah,” she blinked at him and found herself laughing at his odd behavior. “Yes. Want some?”
“I do," he said but added with regret, “But I can see a fight coming.”
Marisol sighed. “Me, too.”
The next thing Kresley knew, Max demanded Lucan do just that – fight. They were headed to the roof.
Kresley reached for Lucan’s arm. Marisol took her hand. “Let them work it out.”
Des took a bite of the cheesecake. “Guess I'd better go, too. Jag’s a damn good referee, but I’m better.”
Kresley quirked a brow at Des. “You’re not mad at Lucan?”
“Sure I am,” Des said. “But there’s only so much of his ass to go around. I figure I should leave a little of it for you.” He pushed off the bed and took off after the others.
Kresley gaped at his bold words and so did Marisol, then they shared a laugh.
“I suspect I'd better go up there, too,” Marisol said. “That way if the big dopes hurt themselves, I can come to the rescue.”
Kresley laughed again and walked with Marisol. “How come Laura didn’t come with you?” she asked, a bit sad that her doctor wasn’t there.
Marisol took her hand. “Because she knew you had to come back on your own, to make the ranch home.”
Kresley felt those words inside out. She drew a breath, filled her lungs. Home. What would that feel like? She hoped she got the chance to find out.
***
Kresley didn’t know how soon she would find out what home meant, but it turned out to be only a few hours later.
She and Marisol stood at the edge of the rooftop and watched the Knights aka "boys behaving badly" match swords, challenge one another, curse, laugh, and ultimately exchange a few rough-neck hugs. She cried as she watched them emerge from their male bonding session. Cried out of happiness for Lucan. This is what she had come for, to give him back his life.
Lucan walked away from that reunion, his eyes immediately seeking hers. He walked toward her with the determination of a man who knew what he wanted – and he wanted her. She stepped toward him, impatient, launching herself into his arms as he reached for her.
He kissed her, long and hard, a kiss followed by a hoarse vow, “When we get through all of this,” he whispered. “I’m going to make you fall in love with me.” And then he kissed her again. A kiss with the power to heal.
This day had forced them both to face their fears, to face uncertain futures. Yet, they’d done so and done so well. No matter what tomorrow held, this day, and this kiss, held hope – and hope, she realized, was something she’d been missing. Hope was powerful. Hope held the will and might to find purpose. Something she’d been looking for far too long.
***
Cullen stood a few feet from where Tara sat on the couch in his hotel suite, her fingers digging into the cloth, her face pale.
"Thank you for letting me stay here,” she said, shadowy guilt in the depths of her wide-eyed stare. He’d barely spoken two words to her since the confrontation, didn’t trust himself to comfort her, to be truthful. He had felt a connection to her that had been exploited. She’d intended to betray him, regardless of her final actions. Too many counted on him for safety for him to foolishly allow himself the exposure she represented.
When he didn’t speak, she added nervously, “If I’m alone, I know Adrian will come to me.”
Adrian would come to her. And if he allowed her to live, she would never have a life free of him. He’d find a way back to her, find a way to haunt her.
“I spoke with Jag about your brother,” he finally said, his voice steely, free of any good gesture she might read into the words. “He’s trying to find out where he is. I won’t lie to you. He wasn’t optimistic.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I got the brown-paper-bag version from Prince Risen.”
Cullen quirked a brow. “Brown paper bag?”
“He was pissed at me for not coming to him immediately. I think that puts it mildly. No pretty words and nice packaging. He told me how it was. He said the only reason my brother might still be alive was that Adrian liked to punish those who failed him. Adrian would want me to watch my brother die.”
His gut twisted a bit with that announcement. He couldn’t smell Tara’s emotions as he could others, so he should feel nothing. But he did feel something and that something was dangerous. Tara was dangerous. And no matter what she stirred in him —he would not forget that important detail.
Adrian wanted him dead. And Adrian held something over Tara’s head, something he could use against her. Cullen would never allow Tara to have anything she could use against him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Three days later, Lucan woke to the sound of someone yelling – a man he thought. Yes. Yelling . . . Was it him? Was he having a nightmare, being tortured by the Guardians? It wouldn’t be the first time in the past year he’d awakened to his own yelling, to some form of torture by the Guardians.
He sat up, jerked fully awake. Kresley sat up as well, her gentle touch calming him, her hand resting on his arm.
“What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
Reflexively, he reached for her, needing the feel of her next to him, to know she was safe, that she wasn’t about to be ripped out of his arms, out of his life. He was qu
ickly reminded of Jag’s paranoid rules about them being near each other right now because … she was beneath the covers, him above them.
Regardless of that cold jolt of reality, he let out a sigh of relief as he realized that, no, the yelling was not him, nor was it from anyone in danger. It was the television. He scrubbed his face and groaned as he brought the cartoon, ‘The Flintstones into focus, with Des sitting on the end of the bed holding the remote control.
“Remind me again why you’ve been sleeping on our floor for days, despite the fact that I haven't seen hide nor hair of the Guardians?" Lucan demanded, sounding as foul as he could, though he really was far from it. The past few days, despite the doom and gloom of a ticking clock, he’d had his fellow Knights with him, he’d had the support of knowing if there was a way out of this, they’d find it together.
“Jag said to keep the two of you company, make sure there will be no lovey dovey action, so I’m keeping you company,” Des commented. “I just follow orders. And who the heck says ‘hide nor hair.’ ”
Kresley laughed. “Apparently, three-hundred-year-old doctors.”
Des laughed. “He is an old buzzard, isn’t he?”
The pet dinosaur on the cartoon charged the hero Fred and knocked him over, licking his face. Des stopped laughing.
“Remind me to talk Jessica out of that dog I promised her,” he said referring to his mate. He twisted at the waist, one hand on the bed as he gave them both a casual once-over, as if he were making sure he wasn’t about to break up some heated mating attempt. “I’ve always liked the Flintstones. They get shit done without all these gadgets everyone has these days. The way we used to.”
Kresley copied Des’s snort of moments before, only hers was tiny and cute, and Lucan found himself smiling. Everything she did was so damn youthful and sweet, yet she’d proven her bravery time and time again. How many times had she saved his backside now?
“You’re a gadget freak,” she accused Des. “You have every new cell phone the minute it hits the stores.”