Under His Wings Page 10

“Tamar.”

  The low velvet-over-gravel voice was another sensory block added to the teetering Jenga tower of emotions threatening to topple and crash down on top of her.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  A beat of silence passed.

  “You’re making this so fucking hard.”

  Her head snapped up and she immediately wished she’d kept her chin ducked, kept her attention trained on his throat. Her caution came too late. The amethyst fire in his gaze razed to the ground every reason why she must maintain distance between them. Nothing made sense except for the lust that flared in his eyes like the hottest bonfire.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered, ripping her gaze away from his and giving her head—and libido—a good, hard shake. Get it together. One plus one equals two. E equals MC². Dick equals disaster. “What did you say?”

  “I wanted to know if you were up for a walk.”

  Oh damn. She hated that leap of joy in her heart. Especially since it had nothing to do with a love of nature and everything to do with spending more time with Nicolai.

  Just say no. Keep your distance. Tell him no thank you and walk away…

  “Okay.” Damn! “Let me go change and I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes.”

  He nodded and, as she climbed the steps to the second level, his searing stare heated her back, ass, legs. Her gut clenched.

  God, she should have her head examined. Only someone a few bricks short of a load would willingly walk into the lion’s den.

  Fifteen minutes later as they strolled side by side through the breathtaking Berkshire woods, Tamar decided yes indeed-y she was a few bricks short of a load.

  She sighed. An early afternoon walk should have been innocent. A harmless little hi—God. The sun’s rays just gleamed on his skin. As if the beams fought to break through the trees’ thick branches just for the privilege of caressing him.

  Shit. She kicked at a leaf in her path.

  This stroll was as harmless as a round-house kick to the gonads.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked, his arm brushing her shoulder.

  “Bricks and balls.”

  Silence. “Sounds…fascinating.”

  A shaft of humor pierced the black cloud hanging over her head. “That was diplomatic.” Tipping her head back, she released another sigh. The magnificent, towering trees, their branches heavy with vibrant green leaves, mesmerized her.Craggy rocks in the distance touched the sky. The brilliant canopy of color along with the hushed quiet reminded her of a cathedral—God’s special place of worship right out here in the middle of His creation. “I wish Mom could have seen this.”

  “Could have?” Nicolai asked. “Your mother’s gone?”

  “Yes.” Tamar nodded and a familiar pang of sorrow, dimmed with time but still present, resonated in her chest. “Eight years now.” That sounded like a long time ago, but sometimes when the house echoed with screaming silence and loneliness, it seemed like weeks had passed instead of years. “She loved nature. Flowers, plants, gardening. She could spend hours in our backyard puttering around in her garden. Yeah,” she murmured, “she would’ve loved this.”

  Nicolai shifted closer and a warm, comforting palm settled on the small of her back.

  “Our people believe when our loved ones pass on they travel to Eirene, a place of rest and peace. It’s a beautiful garden of eternal spring where flowers bloom and fruit bends the tree branches. The river never ceases to flow with the sweetest water and the sun shines in perpetual day.” He paused for a long moment and Tamar wondered if he thought of his wife and whether she dwelled in this land of beauty. “Maybe your heaven is like Eirene and your mother is enjoying this beauty every day.”

  Far above them a bird chirped and another answered its call. A breeze rustled the leaves and Tamar imagined her mother as she’d been before the unexpected lethal bout of pneumonia. Her tall figure bent under one of her beloved rose bushes, brown hair pulled back into a tidy bun. A lovely smile curved her lips even as sweat dotted her forehead. Yes, this was the image she would carry of her mother from now on. Toiling in eternal spring gardens with that beautiful smile—not connected to beeping machines, her caramel skin dark against the stark white hospital sheets.

  She cleared her throat. Batted away an imaginary insect and rubbed her stinging eyes. “Are your parents still alive?” she asked, surrendering to the desire to learn more about him.

  He skimmed a light caress up her back and loosely clasped her neck. A tingling heat set up under her skin where his palm rested. She sucked in a breath, held it and willed her knees to remain steady.

  “Yes,” he replied. “They live in Patros, our kingdom and homeland. A good number of our people still reside there.”

  “Patros,” she murmured, savoring the foreign name. “Where is it located?”

  “Greece. Where we originated.”

  “You’re a bit far from home.”

  “Not really.” He shrugged a shoulder, started a gentle massage. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, trapping a moan behind them. “I have a home off the coast of Washington.”

  “That’s, uh…” Her voice faltered under the pleasure of his touch. “That’s still quite a distance from your family. But then I guess being the…what did you call it?”

  “Dimios.”

  “Right. Being the Dimios doesn’t permit much time for visits.” He made a non-committal grunt but her curiosity had been piqued. “How do your parents feel about your being ‘the law’?” she asked, doing her best imitation of Sly Stallone’s Judge Dredd.

  Nicolai’s lips quirked at the corner in an almost-smile. How ’bout that? Apparently hippogryphs had Netflix.

  “Since my father appointed me to the role, I’m guessing he was fine with it.”

  Surprise reverberated through her.

  She gaped at him. “Your father willingly sent you after dangerous, homicidal nutcases?”

  Again he shrugged and, with the hand that wasn’t kneading her neck, scraped the hair back from his forehead. “Being the Dimios is an honor. There’s no greater satisfaction than knowing your purpose is to serve.”

  “Was that your goal in life? Did you always want to be like,” she twirled her fingers in the air as if conjuring up the correct term, “the defender of your race.”

  “Each hippogryph is born with certain gifts. Even among my people I had enormous strength and speed. When the time came to choose a new Dimios, it seemed a fated decision I compete for the role. There was some opposition given my rank, but I wanted it.”

  “Your rank?”

  “My father is the king of our people.”

  Another bolt of shock struck her and Tamar skidded to a stop. His hand fell away from her as she faced him, fists propped on her hips.

  “You’re a freakin’ prince?”

  He arched an eyebrow, amusement lighting his violet eyes. “That’s what the son of a king is usually called.”

  She shook her head, amazed. All she desired was safety, stability and a whole lot of boring after the most harrowing three years of her life. And every day he chose to fly—literally—into danger.

  “Why?” she asked. “Why take this risk with your life when you’re a prince? I don’t get it.”

  He studied her with his quiet, intent gaze. “Since my father’s the king, I should sit on my ass and do nothing? Let other people take the risk even though I have the ability and gift? As if my life is more important just because of my lineage?”

  When she pictured him grappling with Evander, slamming into the brick wall… Envisioned the scar on his shoulder that had once been a vicious wound, her soul screamed yes! But if he had succumbed to that kind of egotism, Nicolai wouldn’t be the winged warrior and lover she’d come to know in her dreams.

  Brave. Selfless. Tender. A protector.

  “I think,” she said, “that even after all of this is over, I will worry about you.” She lifted her arm, hesitated, then gave in to the need to cup his jaw and stroke h
er thumb over the patch of skin beneath his full lower lip.

  His pupils contracted, enlarged until the iris disappeared, swallowed by the wide dark-purple center. Gazing into the unblinking stare, Tamar no longer peered into the eyes of the man, but the hippogryph.

  A new, scary desire pounded in her chest. One she refused to back down from.

  Her heart took up a rapid air-stealing tattoo as she shifted away several steps. Her arm dropped to her side but their eyes remained connected—woman to beast. This was the other side of him. The animal that terrified and fascinated her. But both were Nicolai. And in her heart, she knew neither would harm a hated curl on her head.

  Inhaling, she gathered her courage in her trembling fingers and poked her hand in the proverbial lion’s cage.

  “Show me,” she whispered. “Change for me.”

  His head cocked to the side and there was nothing human in the sharp gesture. “Are you sure?” he murmured.

  Excitement raced through her veins, pounded in her blood. “Yes.”

  He continued to scrutinize her. Then, as if something he saw convinced him of her certainty, he nodded and moved back, increasing the space between them.

  The change occurred in a second—but that second lasted an eon.

  It was straight out of a horror movie…and a fairy tale.

  Bone popped, jutting and bulging under his skin before caving in on itself to stretch and contort. His body bent. The strong line of his spine lengthened, curved. His head lowered, rounded and an explosion of brown burst behind the crown, a lion’s mane of feathers. Her breath caught in her lungs, trapped, as her gaze traveled the creamy white that stretched over the hippogryph’s breast and the underside of its wings. A rich chocolate-brown covered the rest of its body—the head, neck, flight feathers. Even its equestrian back, hind legs and tail shared the luxuriant color. The only exceptions were its powerful bright-yellow forelegs and talons.

  It was frightening.

  Strange.

  Majestic.

  Beautiful.

  Awed, she crossed the distance that separated them. The last time she’d seen him in this form he’d been planted in the middle of a street, blocking her escape. She’d been on edge and intimidated. But now…

  With trembling fingers, she reached out and then halted inches from its sleek head, hesitant to touch something so powerful. It seemed almost…blasphemous.

  The hippogryph bowed its regal head. And observed her out of Nicolai’s intelligent eyes.

  She gasped. Of course she realized man and beast were one and the same. But to meet his beautiful eyes in the face of the eagle. It supplied her with the courage to stroke the smooth, glossy head. To ruffle the splendid crest. Tunnel her fingers through the thick, downy plumage of its—his—breast.

  And the wings…God. She sighed. They easily spanned the width of the path, touching the trees bordering the trail. Their beauty was awe-inspiring and intimidating at once. A smile broke free, straight from her heart, as she brushed the chocolate-dipped-in-cream feathers. She recognized them instantly. They’d cradled her close, sheltered her.

  “You’re so gorgeous,” she murmured and chuckled softly as he settled back on his hind legs and seemed to preen under her compliment.

  He shuffled back and the small movement caused a stream of wind to swirl around her. Wow. She pushed her hair back from her face with both hands. Being around him must’ve been something like standing downwind from a helicopter’s propellers.

  He kneeled and his head bent in the imitation of a bow. His great wings spread wide on the forest floor—as huge as those of a plane.

  Lavender eyes met hers and, with a slight jerk of his head, he gestured for her to come nearer. To climb up on his lowered back.

  A fierce yearning seized her. It clutched her chest, twisted her stomach. She could see herself stepping onto his wing and hoisting onto his back, digging her fingers into that grand mane. Excitement raced through her blood as if even now he rose in the air, soared into the blue sky above with her holding on, taking the ride of a lifetime. Tamar stepped forward…then stopped. Terrifying pain-filled images bombarded her. A black rumbling sky, horrible shaking, the wail of air and whine of failing engines. Awful stygian darkness. Pain. Such pain.

  With a small whimper, she squeezed her eyes closed as if she could shut the flashing nightmare out of her mind. Stop!

  She stumbled backward, her arm stretched in front of her, palm up. Her heart hammered away and air whistled between her parted lips.

  Velvet nudged her hand, rubbing against it.

  She pried her eyes open. The hippogryph’s head stroked her palm. When their gazes connected, he moved closer and her hand slid down his neck. Her fingers burrowed in his thick plumage. Unable to resist the offer of comfort, she shifted closer, rubbing her cheek over the soft white on his chest.

  “You make me wish I was different,” she whispered, a wistful note in her voice. “Make me wish I was the woman I once was…” She sighed, regret a gaping hole in her soul. “Why couldn’t I have met you when I was whole and not afraid of every damn thing?”

  Electricity sizzled and sparked over her and, in the next instant, skin replaced feathers. Arms took the place of wings. A glance down revealed he’d clothed himself in a pair of jeans, but his arms, chest and feet remained bare.

  Human or hippogryph, Nicolai was magnificent.

  They didn’t speak, didn’t move.

  He just held her.

  And in the sun-dappled forest with magic surrounding her, the comfort and strength in his embrace was enough.

  * * * * *

  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.