Blood Revolution (God Wars, #3) (27 page)

"They're being shielded?"

"In some ways, yes. Just as information is now shielded from us concerning the enemy. I would like to speak with one of the Mighty, but even I cannot approach the Mighty Hand without invitation or intervention."

"And he's the only one we know how to find," I nodded. "He's not pleased with me right now, because I didn't call him immediately when my sister was still here."

"Because he wants to meet her?" The Guardian was gone and Conner took her place.

"Partly. The other part was that she might be able to help him with his M'Fiyah."

"He wants to use her?"

"Well," I hedged.

"At least somebody looked after his butt for the most part. Who looked after your sister?" Conner sounded a bit huffy.

"You seem invested in this, somehow," I pointed out. "What's in it for you?"

"Graegar's happiness," she snapped and folded away.

I stared at the space previously occupied by Conner, wondering what she'd meant. Did this mean that Graegar had a M'Fiyah with my sister? Were she and Conner destined to be co-mates? Something else struck me, then. Whenever a Wise One had a M'Fiyah, their Protectors generally had one with the same person. That meant that Barrigar might have a M'Fiyah with Breanne as well.

I hadn't seen Barrigar often, but he was very tall, quite powerful in his own right and generally quiet. He would probably be a perfect match for Breanne, but she'd likely never met him. She'd only mentioned Graegar before.

"Interesting," I sighed.

* * *

"What is the target?" Saxom accepted the folder from Calhoun. Saxom thought Calhoun to be human. He was wrong. Calhoun was powerful enough to disguise his scent and did so, casually and constantly.

"Are you sure? I mean I have no trouble with it, but some of the others," Saxom handed the folder back.

"After V'ili gets done with them, there will be no problem," Calhoun chuckled.

* * *

Breanne's Journal

"Real food," I muttered blissfully and dipped into the eggs Trina and Jimmy cooked for me.

"You need to lie down after you eat," Hank pointed his fork in my direction.

"You haven't slept, either," I said. Few of us had—Bill had already eaten and went to bed, planning to get four hours of sleep before rising again. He'd been on the phone most of the time after we'd gotten back from Tahoe—he'd had to explain to his boss what the ruckus was about.

Human bodies were at the local coroner's office in Tahoe, but they were having trouble identifying any of them. My guess was that they might not be local either—just like the lion snake shapeshifter and the chimera. Those bodies had been picked up by local werewolves at Weldon's command, and they would be shipped to a special lab in D.C. Bill was waiting on results from the snake especially, to see if the poison matched that responsible for the death of the vehicle's previous owner.

"Still no word on the car," Winkler said, sipping a cup of coffee.

"I don't think you'll see it again," Jayson huffed. He, Kathleen, Trina and Opal had shown up for breakfast with us, as the kitchen at the other house wasn't stocked.

Trina intended to go to the grocery store later, to pick up a few things. Regular meals were still planned in Winkler's kitchen, but coffee, sodas, snacks and fruit were needed. Winkler assigned one of his wolves to drive Trina, and she'd given Winkler a look that said the werewolf had better mind his manners with her.

"Come on, shorty," Hank pulled me off my barstool the moment I finished eating. Hank gripped my hand and I was led, almost at a trot, toward his bedroom. Well, Gavin said he didn't care. We were about to test that theory, I guess.

"Baby, if you want to go to bed with somebody else, just let me know." Hank was kissing my neck the second he shut the bedroom door.

"Huh," I muttered as Hank's mouth settled on mine.

"I'm taking you somewhere else," Hank's voice was breathy as his hands moved beneath my T-shirt.

"Whuh?" I blinked as our venue changed. We were in another room, where a leather sling hung on chains from the ceiling. No other furniture was in the room.

"Special room in the club," Hank went back to kissing.

"But," I shivered.

"This is fun," Hank murmured, lifting my T over my head. My bra was unhooked and dropped to the floor.

"Jeans, baby," Hank's hands were on my waist, tickling my ribs gently as his mouth settled on a nipple.

I fumbled with the button on my jeans, and almost lost a nail getting the zipper down while Hank launched an assault that left me gasping for breath.

"Yeah," he shoved my jeans and underwear down, and then stepped on them when they hit the floor. "Step out of your shoes, baby," Hank commanded. He steadied me while I toed off my athletic shoes, then lifted me up, leaving the jeans and underwear in a puddle on the floor.

"This is a swing, and it makes sex real easy," he settled me on the leather contraption. "I can adjust the height, so we fit perfectly together," he pressed a button hanging on a cord nearby. "See—just right." He came out of his clothes quickly.

I stared at his erection. Did I feel shameless, admitting that it fascinated me? Yeah. That didn't stop me from looking—and liking what I saw.

"You like that, don't you," Hank grinned. He'd followed my gaze, which was fastened on his penis like sonar on a submarine.

"And what if I do?" I attempted to cross my arms over my breasts, but that caused the swing to twist.

"You don't get to move. I control this," Hank sounded smug. "Just hang onto the handholds at the front," he tapped stirrup-like leather handles. "This'll be the best swinging you ever did," he promised.

"What do you get out of this?" I asked, gripping the handles as requested.

"I get to watch my body and yours play together," he murmured. "Kiss me before little Hank slides home. After that, close your eyes and let the sensation take over."

"Little Hank?" I lifted an eyebrow.

"Well, maybe not so little," he said. "Now, watch this," Hank pushed against me. My body accepted his readily. "See? We belong together. Close your eyes, baby. You're gonna like this."

Chapter 13
 

Breanne's Journal

"Baby, wake up. Bill has some news."

"Huh?" I wanted my eyes to open. Really. They were glued shut. Hank had shown me earlier that the sex swing could be used for alternative positions, and then he'd demonstrated effectively. Was I willing to admit that some sex furniture was fun? Oh, yeah. There hadn't been a single place to tie anybody up on his swing, and I liked that even better.

"Come on, I'm taking you to the shower." Hank hauled me out of bed, but my eyes didn't open until I got hit in the face with shower spray.

He even soaped me up and rinsed me off, then washed my hair. That was nice, actually. He nuzzled my neck while drying me off, and told me I had to do the same for him next time.
Okayyy
.

We walked into Winkler's kitchen in record time, to find Bill, Winkler, Trajan, Jayson and Weldon sitting around the island. It was still daylight outside, but it was waning fast—it wouldn't be long before Gavin was up and around.

"We found the car," Bill sighed, tossing a photograph onto the island. It slid toward Hank and me, which meant the others had already seen it.

"But that's what's left of," I stared at the burned and flattened metal of a white Pontiac Grand Am, sitting in the remains of Jayson's garage in San Rafael. It was recognizable, at least. The rest of his cars weren't.

"Right where I parked my Mercedes," Jayson muttered. "They took my McLaren and left this piece of shit behind. To taunt me."

"Still trying to get our attention?" Hank lifted an eyebrow and handed the photograph back to Bill.

"They're not trying—they
have
our attention," Winkler growled low. "How the hell did the car get into that garage?" he asked.

"We're likely dealing with a few power wielders," Hank said. "It would only take a low level of ability to switch objects like that."

"Bree, you mentioned that your grandfather was a warlock?" Bill said. He had a good memory—I'd been rattling off crap about Griffin and wasn't even paying attention to what I'd said.

"Yeah. There are warlocks and wizards. Hank's right—a kid with either talent could switch those cars."

"Let's hope it isn't a kid," Weldon said. "We have enough trouble dealing with adults."

"We definitely don't need that," Trajan agreed.

"I've sent information across the country, asking for reports of any unusual activity. So far, they're limiting it to this—where they know we'll see it," Bill explained.

"So they park the car at that new church, knowing we're not far away?" Winkler stood. He was worried, and I was right behind him in that worry.

"You need to get your kids away from here," I said. "Someplace safe."

"I'll send them to Boise," Winkler muttered, pulling his cellphone from a pocket of tight-fitting, black jeans. I read Winkler as he placed a call to Davis Stone, Packmaster for the Boise Pack. Davis was married to Wayne and Wynter's grandmother.

"Winkler?" Davis answered the phone on the second ring.

"Davis, we've got a situation here, and I need a safe place for the twins," Winkler said.

"Send 'em," Davis said right away. "I'll make sure they're guarded," he added.

"Good. I'll have them on the plane tonight."

"We'll be waiting. Let me know what time."

"Will do," Winkler ended the call. "Fuck," he said and rubbed his forehead. "Do we need to relocate as well?"

Bill stared at Hank and me. Well, we could be transportation if required. Hank had skipped me to San Francisco without blinking, and then back again, carrying me because I was boneless after several climaxes.

"Look, relocating sounds like a good idea, but we have a couple of things to take care of before we leave town. We have to get the twins on a plane with their nanny and a couple of guards, and that means we have to pack." Winkler jerked his head at Trajan.

"Need help?" I offered.

"We got it," Trajan waved a hand. "Their nanny knows what they need."

* * *

"We're moving tonight, so get packed," Bill ordered as soon as Winkler and Trajan left the kitchen. "Jayson, get your mother and Trina ready; they'll have to go with us. Send Opal over here, so we can figure this out."

"Will do," Jayson strode angrily out of Winkler's kitchen, heading for the front door. He was still upset about the house, the cars and the fact that we were all in danger. I didn't blame him a bit.

"Come on, baby, we'll pack and let Gavin know we're moving," Hank pulled me away.

"Where are we going?" I asked. Well, I probably ought to know, since I'd be taking everybody there.

"Port Aransas," Bill sighed. "Got any beach clothes?"

* * *

Gavin didn't look or sound surprised when Hank informed him of the intended move. Winkler, the twins, Trajan, their nanny and another werewolf had hurried out the door seconds before Gavin walked out of his room for the evening. Hank and I were waiting for him.

"I've been to the area before," Gavin agreed. "It's better than I originally expected."

I'd only walked a beach on the Gulf Coast before, and at the time, I'd flung my cellphone into the water before hauling ass back to Austin to save Opal. That had started a chain of events I was lucky to have survived.

I wondered (again) just who had slapped me out of the tunnel connecting two timelines. Whether they'd intended to hurt me or save me from foolishness, the result had cracked my skull. That sort of pissed me off.

"Breanne, child, are you packed?" Gavin turned dark eyes to me.

"Yeah," I shrugged. I'd packed in record time, actually, so I could stand with Hank and wait for Gavin to emerge from his room.

"I will be ready shortly," he nodded to Hank and went back inside his suite.

"I'm worried," I said, turning away.

"Baby, we'll get through this," Hank pulled me back and into a warm hug.

"I hope so," I mumbled against his chest.

* * *

"Honored One, Gavin says they're moving to Winkler's home in Port Aransas," Charles stood in the doorway of Wlodek's study. "He says that their targets may be aware of their location."

"If the targets know of the Dallas location, won't they know of the Port Aransas home as well?" Wlodek asked.

"Good point, but what else might we do?"

"Hold on." Wlodek tapped a number on his cellphone to make a call.

"Wlodek?" Merrill's voice was easily discernible to Charles.

"I have a request," Wlodek said. "I know your contacts have a large beach home in Port Aransas. Might it be loaned out—for a worthy cause?"

"Does this have to do with evading those connected to the vehicle?"

"Yes."