Halflings (5 page)

Will’s constant reminder drifted thought Mace’s thoughts.
Never forget your origin.
Born in rebellion, marked for eternity, and rejected as outcasts. And meant to keep the realms in peace.

His eyes fanned to the corner ahead, where the street bike and the SUV were moving too fast for the turn. Mace waited while seconds stretched, each one lasting an eternity. This couldn’t end well.

He’d promised himself he’d simply observe, not interact. Yeah, right.
If Nikki’s truly in danger, I shovel her into my arms before a single scratch marks her skin.
And he believed that single fact alone made him a dangerous choice — and the right choice — for this journey.

Thankfully, she slowed as she reached the tight corner. The SUV’s engine wound down in response. For a brief instant Mace thought she’d make it, but loose gravel connected with her tires, throwing her into a fishtail. She zigzagged one way then the other, along with his stomach. The bike tilted closer to the ground with each swerve. Momentum drove the bike, and though he could tell Nikki was a capable rider, a hundred pound girl was no match for an out-of-control seven-hundred-pound machine. Gravel sprayed from one side then the other as if created by a water skier in perfect form.

Mace’s muscles tensed with each swerve of her front wheel. Rules or not, if he didn’t interfere she’d never survive the fall.

In less than a heartbeat he was at the back of her bike. He lifted the back end gently, keeping it an inch off the ground until Nikki cleared the dangerous corner. Behind him the SUV squealed.

Please tell me he didn’t see the golden glow
…

Mace reached around the girl and held her against him in a bear hug, unsure if the vehicle behind might make contact. He longed to snap his wings open and lift her to safety, but that would definitely get him replaced on this journey and it would certainly trash her bike. No, he’d wrap his body around hers and take the hit himself, gravel blanket and all. If tumbling along the road was his fate, he’d seize it, as long as he protected Nikki.

His heart jolted again when her reflection flashed in the side view mirror, face covered by her helmet save for her caramel eyes now filled with terror. He wasn’t the SUV she’d been expecting.

“Great,” he mumbled.
How am I gonna explain this to Uncle Will?

Recognition filled her gaze and her eyes melted into peace, proving his cover was blown. Mace knew he should be admonishing himself for landing directly behind his target — even Vine knew better than to
stop
when you wanted to stay invisible — but instead his heart hammered with an uncommon sensation. Something in his very soul reached out for her. And the really scary thing was … it felt like something in her soul was reaching for him.

Behind them the SUV shuddered, wheels catching and releasing the road. It squealed again before shooting into a field like a rocket and disappearing.

Mace’s muscles released marginally, causing a new awareness of where her body touched his. The inside of his arms, moments ago simply a place of absolute safety for her, were now on fire. His arms and chest tingled. He felt like a rod of metal
in a lightning storm, or a cord of frayed wires plugged into a socket and scattering sparks. He was in trouble.

As if awaking from her trance, Nikki squeezed the brake and they slid to a stop. She leapt off the bike and spun to face him. But instead of the fiery speech, she faltered, grabbing for air. Her eyes rolled and she collapsed.

Slipping behind her, he caught her weight. He noticed her scent as he lowered her gently — clean and alive like flowers sprinkled on the wind. Her fear blended with and only intensified the sweet smell. Strands of hair pressed against her forehead where her helmet held them in place, trapped like butterflies under glass. Before he had her all the way to the ground, he unfastened the strap beneath her chin, needing to see all of her features.

A blanket of her silky, dark hair covered his legs once he knelt down. A breeze blew across her, setting the butterflies free and allowing long strands to dance slowly in the current of air. Her eyes fluttered open, dark lashes framing irises of warm honey.

“I know you,” she whispered then passed out again.

For an eternity he held her while the wind grabbed leaves and waltzed them across the road. Mace couldn’t stop his fingers from reaching to touch the skin on her cheek.
Ah. Angel skin.
It struck him as odd that though he was the half heavenly being, it was her flesh that carried unearthly softness. Maybe all daughters of man felt that way. He didn’t know, since he’d never spent time so near earth girls.

Nor would he.

Mace snatched his hand from her face as if it burned. But when she pulled a deep breath and seemed to snuggle into his
lap, tension dissolved from him.
Admire
, he told himself.
But admire from a safe distance
.

He bit his cheek hard to keep from pulling her closer.

Stillness seemed an unnatural state for her. She’d been halted, stopped by possibly the only thing that could stop her. Mace’s face creaked into a smile. It only took a blast of heavenly electricity to slow her down. The mere fact
he’d
been the force powerful enough to stop her played havoc with his senses.
Get a grip
. He drew a deep, cleansing breath.

Her scent assaulted him again.

Above them thunder rumbled, the heavens sending a warning of their own. Mace glanced at the sky; dark clouds swirled, announcing an oncoming storm. Across the road, a barn anchored an overgrown cornfield and an ancient farmhouse sagged at the edge of the street. Mace scanned the buildings with narrowed eyes. No one outside. No one inside. The entire area seemed uninhabited, absent of even a skittering rodent.

Will and Raven won’t find out.
He slid a hand beneath her knees and effortlessly lifted her into his arms. Smooth steps carried them toward the house. Less than two hundred feet away, he stopped.

Alarm prickled across his shoulders, heightening his already-tuned senses. The cold of death, torment, and evil swept past. He angled away from the house and toward the barn as thunderheads rolled closer.

He shifted her weight as angry, fat drops fell from the sky only feet from the entrance. When he fumbled for the door handle, she stirred. Her head fell back and a tiny moan escaped her lips. Her breath feathered across his face.

Mace staggered. He pulled the sugar-sweet aroma into his being. The breath of life. As a boy, Mace carried the scent — all
Halflings did. But as he’d gained his angelic power, the breath of life disappeared. One more reminder that earth was not his home.

Leaning against the doorframe for support, he inched his face closer to hers. Again, her breath fanned him, weakening his strength and reminding him of all he could never have. Deep yearnings drove him to close the distance to her mouth where the cloying air hissed from her lips. Nothing smelled so satisfying, so alive — or so unattainable. And at the moment, nothing looked so inviting.

Only inches from kissing her, her eyes flittered open. The faintest smile touched soft, pink lips. “I’m floating in a pool of blue-green water,” she whispered, “drawn from the Mediterranean Sea.” Her eyes blinked, still glassy but concentrated. “You know what?”

He shook his head.

“The water is perfect.” Lashes fluttered. She slumped against his chest.

Mace had to draw several calming gulps of air before attempting to transport her into the barn. Admire, but from a safe distance.
I’ve already wrecked that plan.
He tried to remind himself of all that was on the line. Normally, he liked boundaries. Boundaries were the safety net. Boundaries kept people on the right path. But right now, he felt like rules were made to be broken and consequences were miles and miles away.

If journeys came with rulebooks, he’d probably just disobeyed every word.

R
aven stretched out on the bed and locked his hands behind his head. Heavy rock rumbled from a stereo in the corner, though he’d turned it down to insure he’d hear the footsteps — and the explosion — he was waiting for.

When the giant started up the stairs, Raven couldn’t help but smirk. The booming footsteps halted at Mace’s door.
Let the fun begin.
He jumped from the bed and swung his door open to watch the fireworks in the next room.

Without pausing to knock, Will threw open the door to Mace’s room.

Raven stepped into the hallway from his own domain and followed Will’s gaze into the empty space. Trying, really trying, not to laugh, he mumbled, “He’s so busted.”

Will spun and took a menacing step toward Raven.
Ooh, scary.
“From the time the Ancient of Days created me, I’ve roamed first the heavens, then the earth. I’ve comfortably breathed both the scent of death and that of life. I have
endured multiple generations. But one thing I cannot abide is insubordination.”

Raven sighed, simulating heartfelt sorrow. “I understand completely.”

Will darkened. “When I give an order, I expect it to be respected.”

“Yeah, I feel ya.” Hand flat on the doorjamb, Raven shook his head as if disappointed. “Where’d we go wrong? I thought we’d raised him better.”

Will’s eyes blazed. “And when I lead, I expect those under my command to resist mockery.”

Uh-oh. Should have left it at concerned brother.
Raven flashed a brilliant smile and shrugged.

With no Mace present to absorb his frustration, Will returned his attention to the empty space. There was only one likely explanation: Nikki Youngblood. Raven could practically feel the concern crawling up Will’s neck. The giant’s wings fluttered at the tips, each feather rising like hair on a dog’s back.

Will’s reaction zapped the fun of watching Mace — the
good
one — bumbling into mistake after mistake. Though Will had faced all manner of disaster throughout millennia, Raven couldn’t ignore the apprehension — so thick it spiked from Will’s flesh — that signaled trouble surrounded Nikki Youngblood.

When Will turned to face Raven, a cold chill scraped the length of his spine. In the depths of Will’s lightning blue eyes, a painful secret rested. And Raven was pretty sure it said this journey would take the life of one of the Lost Boys.

A crash of thunder woke Nikki. Foggy headed, she tried to grasp and hold the edges of her reason.
Where am I?

Heaviness filled her body, making it almost impossible to rise from the floor. Eyes still unfocused, she teetered on panic until those cool, cerulean orbs filled her vision. Was she dreaming again? Everything seemed to be melting around her as if the world was made of carnival glass and she could only view it through a rain-streaked window.

“You’re safe,” the voice said.

She’d heard that deep, velvet voice before. She’d even heard those exact words, but where?
Why can’t I concentrate?

An arm slipped around her shoulders and pulled her to a seated position, where she could see his face. He possessed a sculpted jawline and a perfect nose that seemed to be crafted by Michelangelo himself. Two high cheekbones rested above a mouth that looked capable of pleasing any girl’s lips, but also able to draw into a tight line of defense when necessary. And then there were those lose-yourself-in eyes. Though he appeared to be her age, she’d never seen anyone like him. Even his knees, visible through the holes in his faded jeans, seemed perfect.

But it was his eyes that begged trust. Each time she looked at them, a little more tension eased from her muscles. “What happened?” She glanced up. Above, a giant dome of wood slats cupped around them. The sweet smell of hay hovered in the space
. Are we in a barn?

“You spun around the corner and lost control of your bike,” he said.

A frown slashed her forehead. “I wrecked?”

“No, you spun out but you didn’t crash. You did lay the bike over, though. It’s at the edge of a field.”

She stiffened. This was wrong. Why was she
in here
and why were they alone and why did she feel drugged?

“It’s okay. I made sure it was off the road, and I doubt anyone can even see it.”

That bit of information didn’t inspire confidence. If no one could see her bike from the road, no one would be looking for her. Her eyes shot around the barn, things beginning to sharpen into focus. “What am I doing here?” She eased away from him, hands pushing against the hay-strewn ground.

Lightning, accompanied by a blast of thunder, answered her question.

He gestured toward a window. “Storm. A serious one.” His shoulder tipped into a tentative shrug and she had to marvel at the sudden vulnerability he seemed to exude. She really
did
feel safe with him.

Bursts of angry light flashed through the barn’s slat walls, scattering blue-white beams in all directions and fracturing her short-lived confidence.
You’re still in a barn with a guy you don’t know and you have no recollection of getting here.
“They’re all serious ones in Missouri,” she said, hoping to engage him in conversation until she could determine the best course of action. She needed to get out.