Branded By Etain (16 page)

She sat up, coughing and groping for her trekking pole when the cloud turned a blue-veined face toward her. Great, dark orbs stared down at her, and a large mouth full of yellowed fangs gaped open. The creature’s hot breath formed little clouds as it panted.

Evelina’s warming blood turned to ice all over again.

The yeti.

The creature roared and swung its long arms, backhanding a half dozen of the zombies away. It kicked up snow and used the cover to charge the mass of frozen flesh, forcing them back.

Evelina scrambled to her feet, but they were numb. Her knees gave way, and she fell into the snow again. Her teeth chattered, and her extremities refused to obey her command to flee.

There was a new reason to fear now. There was only one abominable snowman in the
Ubezhishche
, and it was a creature of legend and nightmare.

She used her pole to stagger away from the fray, where ice and fur and fang flew. Desperate for survival, she slapped at her throat for the dog whistle. Maybe she could summon a little magic and get away.

An icy hand slapped her across the face and dragged her down into the snow.

She was really getting sick of this.

Evelina rolled with the zombie. More hands grabbed her clothing. She was not going out like this. She thrashed and knocked at least two heads together, but there were more.

A roar ripped through the night, and the zombies scattered. Evelina flopped onto her back and sucked in a breath.

Could she hope the yeti was too distracted with the ice zombies to mess with her?

She levered herself up and glanced around. The blizzard hid the fleeing zombies, but there was an unnatural stillness she could feel despite the storm.

Evelina used the pole to get to her feet and dug out the dog whistle from around her neck. Either it was her imagination, or the wind suddenly raged harder, threatening to blow her over. She blew a few short bursts on the whistle. She needed a get-away ride, and Maddox was it.

The flashlight still hung from her wrist. She clicked it off and limped away, not caring which direction she went, so long as it was away from where the yeti was.

A snuffling, almost growl like sound kicked adrenaline into her system, yet she froze.

That was not Maddox.

Something was on her left, outside of her line of sight.

The yeti was stalking
her
, not the zombies.

Her wind pants were soaked. The white bear-hide sloughed off as much as it could, but not even it could prevent the freezing water from reaching her.

“Tik, to me!” She stuck the pickaxe deep into the ice in front of her and pulled herself to the tiny shelf above the water.

She’d made it. It became more hazardous each trip because she was losing her ability to withstand the brutal cold. As a child of Jack Frost she was half-fae and should have no issues with the cold. But the last hundred years or so, even her ability to create ice chutes on the waves had waned. Fear whisked through her, and she beat it back.

She glanced around and grabbed her hat, barely keeping the wind from snatching it off her head. Tiktok yelped, and she located him shaking water off his fur as he stood precariously on a ledge a few yards from her.

“To me!” she yelled, but her words were taken and flung to sea. The arctic blue fox took off, climbing higher on the glacier before he found a nicer spot to watch her make her own way.

A buzzing sounded above her, too different to ignore. She glanced up. The clouds above her roiled, tossed by winds that had become fiercer since she’d left her berg. Black mixed with gray and pure white rolled and writhed together, forming a beautiful combination the weak light only enhanced. Tal wished for her palette and easel, her brushes and canvas—she’d give anything to be able to paint the gorgeous scene above her.

Her eyes struggled to keep up with the frothy, windswept clouds as they combined and separated over and over in an orgy of cumulus ecstasy. Drops of moisture touched her face, stinging but redolent with icy benediction. Her eyes closed as the cold seeped deep, touching her heart and ironically warming her soul. For a moment she wasn’t Talini, the lost princess of the Inuit. For just a precious second she was simply Talini Frost—lover of ice and angel of snow.

A short yip and Tal’s eyes flew open. The winds growled. She’d not tasted storms earlier, but now the air sang with danger. As her gaze caught on the black clouds above her fear trilled as they parted, and the sun speared her eyes.

She pulled a glove from her hand and wiped her eyes before the tears could freeze on her face. She hastily donned her glove. Looking back up, amazement filtered through her, sharp and piercing, as an enormous ship descended from the heavens.

What. The. Hell?

A spaceship? Before she’d been jettisoned from Earth there’d been only a small effort going on to colonize space. The Space Shuttle program had actually been shut down, as NASA had struggled to come up with new and better ways to explore the solar system. They must’ve been hella busy the last three hundred years.

Then again, who’d thought a spell-weaver could send a person to outer space? Dread made her indecisive. What if they weren’t human? What if all the crazy-assed UFO conspiracy theorists had been right, and they weren’t alone in the great big universe?

Panic notched in her chest finishing off what the bitter cold began. Tal struggled for breath and dug her spike-toed boots deeper into the ice, wrenched out the pickaxe, and reset it. Getting to the top of the glacier became her sole motivation. But what would she do there with zero cover?

Think, Tal! Move, Tal! Go, Tal!

“Talini!”

What the hell? Had she conjured her name from thin air?

“Talini Frost!”

She stopped and lifted her gaze. There, at the top lip of the glacier, was a person — a really, big
person
. She amended that decisively—it was a male person, if the outline of the body was anything to go by.
Impressive bulge you’ve got there, hoss.

Tal shook her head. Three hundred years with nothing but a fox for company—of course the first thing she’d key on was the bulge in his pants. She closed her eyes and gulped—
of course
.

The man reached down, offered a hand, and Tal struggled with indecision. Friend or foe? Had her mother or father sent someone for her? No, Cikuq hadn’t sent anyone for her. Frost maybe, but not mommy dearest.

She searched deep inside and made a decision. She had limited powers, and the truth was she had a leg up on this deserted planet. She’d damn well take his hand and find out his reason for being here.

She reached up and found her hand engulfed in an enormous, gloved hand. The man’s strength was conveyed in his grip, and she couldn’t contain the tiny thrill that ran through her. Heat radiated up her arm, melting a portion of her that’d been frozen for over three centuries.

No, no, no!
Panic of an entirely different sort speared Tal.

He pulled her over the lip with an ease that spoke to the large muscles delineated with lust-inspiring clarity by his suit. The weird visor over his face hid his expression but his perusal was tactile. Tal shivered and inwardly cursed herself for it.

“Who are you?” she yelled over the wind.

The big male tilted his head and reached for her hat. She sidestepped the move and backed out of his range. He took a step forward and refused to let her leave his reach. Tiktok whined from nearby and brushed against her leg, the quiver of his body echoed in her heart.

Who was this man?

He reached for her hat again, and in a move that had her startled at his quickness, ripped it from her head, sending her hair flying in all directions.

He stilled. 

His hand tightened into a fist before he unclenched and moved it toward her. He stopped inches from her head, and Tal made her move. She ducked and stepped past him, turned at the last minute, and elbowed him in the kidney before she moved away several feet.

The man went to one knee, holding his side. Tal grinned.
Gutter fighter to the end, my man.
He’d decimate her in a hand-to-hand, but she was quick, and she’d found most people were unwary because of her size. She’d had to earn her way in the Unseelie court and learned the art of war from Iomlán’s bastard sons.

He struggled for several seconds and finally stood, removing his visor as he took a deep breath. His muscled chest rose and fell roughly, but it was his face that took her senses.

Beautifully sculpted mahogany, his lovely brown skin highlighted the planes of his cheekbones—a delicious backdrop to his full lips and gray-green eyes. He smiled, or maybe grimaced, but it displayed even, white teeth, strong teeth she wanted to rub her tongue across before she delved into that mouth.

Caribbean maybe? God, he was beautiful. Her hands itched for a canvas, yet even as the thought formed she realized he
was
the canvas, and her hands wanted to play, stroke, and mold his features.

Her breath hitched as his gaze met hers, and he cocked an ebony eyebrow. She went wet beneath her seal hide. Tal couldn’t move. She’d never experienced this type of immediate lust. Danger whistled around her, and all she wanted to do was climb up the incredible specimen before her and allow his hard edges to cradle her softer ones. She almost moaned the vision was so intense. Instead, she locked her knees and gazed at him, her brain daring him to do anything else to taunt her responses.

And, of course, once the dare had been given life in her thoughts, the man standing before her put it into action.

“You are Talini Frost?”

His voice kicked her in the solar plexus. She was afloat in a totally new sea—one of desire and need. Deep timbered, richly exotic—his voice tugged at her heart and her womb. The sound of it was soul-destroying. She closed her eyes and tried to force moisture back into her mouth; it had all departed to her nether regions.

He cleared his throat, and Tal realized she’d been devouring him with her eyes. She couldn’t muster any anger though—the man was simply too damn beautiful to be angry at him.

“Are you deaf?” Something wicked glinted in his eyes, and his mouth quirked up.

Oh, goody…there it was. Sweet, sweet anger. “I’m not deaf. Are you stupid?” Her stance widened in automatic response to his mocking.

He threw back his head and laughed. The sound rippled through her.

And just that quickly, the Inuit princess, who had been lost three hundred years ago, was lost again.

Long after she’d gone, the scent of Gina lingered in the air.

Luke sat alone in his stark office, heels kicked up on his desk, head turned to gaze out the window. It was late evening, the sun already sinking in the sky and lights beginning to appear in nearby office buildings. There was work he needed to do, yet he lacked concentration. All he could do was sit and remember how she’d looked.

Gina.

The memory of every beautiful woman from his past was eclipsed by her. He could recall his mate’s face down to the tiniest detail. He remembered every single freckle, every glimmer of gold in her extraordinary red hair. Hell, he even knew the shape of her teeth. Everything about her was imprinted on his brain.

But all of that was merely physical. He ached to know more about her. Did she have a temper? Surely she did. Not to be stereotypical, but with all of that red hair and Italian ancestry, she had to be a firecracker.

Lips twitching, he lifted his hand to his face. Anticipation at the battle of wills to come built within him. He’d shaken her hand when she’d left. The scent of her was still on his skin. He inhaled deeply, the sweet vanilla and luscious musk bringing him to a state of agonizing desire. What would it be like when it was the scent of her lust?

It was ridiculous how much he wanted her. He felt like a three-year-old seeing an enormous ice cream cone and then having it snatched away. When Dominic led her away from him, it had taken all he could do to watch them leave.

One thought repeated over and over again inside his head. She was his. Amazing, but true.

He’d never considered seeking out his mate. His career and Laura’s education had been his obsession since he was twenty-one. He’d wanted to get out of the hellhole he’d grown up in, the dilapidated shanty where they’d struggled to survive. An orphan since his late teens, he’d done all he could to keep his sister fed and clothed. He hadn’t considered having more out of life. But now the possibilities opened up before him.

His nearly obscene wealth had come about by accident. No one had suspected he would have such a head for business. But now there was something happening to him beyond his control. He hadn’t planned for Gina, but couldn’t envision not having her. Would she feel the same if she knew? Should he tell her?

His thoughts screeched to a halt. He couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Until L-12 went to trial, he couldn’t risk leaking the news. Dominic had only good things to say about his cousin, but what if Gina accidentally revealed their testing? No, he couldn’t tell her. Too much was at stake.