Under His Wings (9 page)

“Pria died. She was killed.”

The relief would have brought her to her knees if she’d been
standing. But shame immediately bombarded her. His wife had died—her relief was
callous in the face of that tragedy.

“I’m sorry,” she said and meant it. Her mother’s death had
nearly sent Tamar into the grave with her. She could only imagine the agony
Nicolai suffered having to bury his wife. It must have been unbearable.

“It’s been a while. Nearly five hundred years ago.”

“Still it must—” She gasped and her spine hit the back of
the couch. “Five hundred years?” she repeated and gaped at him. “Just how the
hell old are you?”

He scowled and Tamar shrugged, too stunned to be polite.

“Nine hundred years old,” he supplied stiffly.

“Damn,” she whispered, awed. Her gaze touched on the broad
unlined forehead, the blade-like cheekbones and wide, sensual mouth. No
wrinkles—not even a laugh line. He appeared to be in his late-twenties or
early-thirties, not old enough to have witnessed the events she taught her
students. “How is that even possible?”

His bark of laughter echoed in the room. “You can ask me
that after everything you’ve seen?”

“I know, I know,” she murmured. “But up until twenty-four
hours ago I believed hippogryphs were relegated to Greek mythology and Harry
Potter, and humans were the only inhabitants of earth except for the occasional
UFO.” She shook her head. “Excuse me if some of this continues to bowl me
over.”

He dipped his head, acknowledging her point even as his lips
twisted into a wry smile. “I’ll give you that. Especially since I’ve had nine
hundred years to become accustomed to the idea.”

“Will you tell me what I’m dealing with?”

The hesitation was small but there. She cocked her head to
the side and studied him. “Let me guess,” she drawled. “If you tell me, you’ll
have to kill me.”

Nicolai threw her a sharp glance, eyes narrowed to lavender
slits. “Don’t joke about that.”

She snorted. “Oh please—” Once more she drew up short as an
ugly, incredible thought entered her head. “You wouldn’t really have to kill
me.” She swallowed. “Would you?”

Muttering something that sounded suspiciously like
“clusterfuck”, Nicolai surged to his feet. Tension vibrated from him, agitation
in every stride of his long-legged pace.

“Let’s get this out of the way,” he growled. “I’m not going
to hurt you. And I won’t allow anyone else to touch you.” His head whipped
around and he pinned her to the couch with a hard stare. “Understand?”

Tamar nodded, choosing not to utter a word. Silence was
probably prudent at this moment.

“My people have existed since the beginning of time. We’re
one of the oldest races—”

“One of?”

After the blast of another glare, she held up her hands in
the ancient—he would know better than her exactly how ancient—sign of
submission. “Sorry. I’m listening.”

“Yes,” he said. “We are one of many races that live in
secrecy. As the world grew more populated and smaller, we had to learn to adapt
or become extinct. Our existence depends on our ability to remain hidden to
humans and appear as one of you.”

“So my neighbor could be a what? Werewolf?” she blurted,
again violating her resolution to remain quiet. But damn, this was just too
much to take in!

Nicolai halted mid-pace and crossed his arms. Not a trace of
humor softened his features “A
loup-garou
, not werewolf. Werewolves are
fictional, but the
loup-garou
is very real. And yes, theoretically your
neighbor could be one.” He arched an eyebrow. “But don’t worry. I checked him
out and he’s as human as you are.”

“That’s a relief,” she whispered, reeling from the knowledge
that she could rub shoulders with mythical creatures every day and not know it.
Although…that could explain Mrs. Reynolds, the middle school secretary. The
woman was such a bitch. Maybe she was some kind of joy eater or a fun-snatching
medusa…

“Each race has their own set of laws governing their
society, but the hippogryph maintains order by the
Dimios
.” His jaw
firmed and Tamar braced herself for the impact of what was coming. “The
Dimios
is similar to your police force, jury and prison system all rolled into
one. His responsibility is to investigate, hunt and execute those who threaten
our safety or betray our people.”

“Rogues,” she said, her voice barely a rasp of sound. “Like
Evander.”

Nicolai gave an abrupt nod.

“So,” Tamar cleared her throat and knit her fingers
together, “that would make you the
Dimios
.”

Again, he lowered his head, this time slower. His lilac eyes,
so startling in his hard face, captured hers and silence permeated the room. In
her mind, she rewound and viewed the battle scenes she’d seen him engaged in
over three years of dreams. Always bare-chested with huge wings of the deepest
chocolate and richest cream. He fought with a stunning ferocity that stole her
breath, his skill and power awesome to behold.

In those nights, he’d become Tamar’s champion, savior…her
escape. The dreams had started the first night after she’d awakened in the
hospital after the crash and had saved her sanity. How ironic that a figment of
her imagination had kept her sane. Nevertheless, when she couldn’t move,
imprisoned within a broken body, and then later tortured by Kyle, Nicolai had
been the one thing to help her hold on.

Not only had he been the protector of his people, he’d been
hers as well.

Nicolai returned to the chair he’d vacated and reached for
her again. His hand covered her knee and the heavy weight was…comforting. He
pinned her with a penetrating stare, intensifying their connection.

“Tamar,” he said, voice solemn, earnest. “Please let me
protect you. Through no fault of your own you’ve become the target of a killer,
but we can’t change that. I’ve already lost a friend—”

“You didn’t mention that.” Sympathy flooded her. First his
wife, then his friend. Damn. “Evander?”

“Yes,” he said gruffly. “Like you, Bastien had no place in
this battle. Evander targeted him to hurt me.” His voice deepened, roughened.
“I’m asking you to place your trust in me. I know that’s difficult,” he
stressed and squeezed her knee, “but I promise once Evander is caught, I will
return you here, safe. And you’ll never hear from me or be bothered by our
world again. You can go back to your life without any interference from us.”

He shifted his hands and gripped hers within his. The warmth
from his strong palms seeped through her, transmitting a tingle that reminded
her of the pleasure those big, knowledgeable fingers could bring. A part of her
protested against the idea of never seeing him again. Not when he’d been such
an important factor in her life for the past three years. Falling asleep and
not seeing him, not touching him or being held and filled by him…inconceivable.

Yet those were dreams—albeit very vivid, sexy, hungry,
soul-snatching, orgasm-rich dreams. She had a life that included her home, her
job and the kids she taught. While that might not sound like Thrillsville to
other people, it was everything to her.
Everything
. She’d rebuilt a
world free of abuse, terror and insecurity—a world where she could walk out her
door every morning to a job she loved, then return each night to a home free of
violence.

Yet if she didn’t agree to Nicolai’s request, she risked
losing it all anyway. And her life right along with it.

“For how long?” she asked, searching his face.

His expression hardened but the amethyst gaze never wavered.
“I don’t know.”

She grimaced, closed her eyes. At least he’d been honest.

“Let me protect you,” he repeated.

Beneath the urgency in his tone lay something else. A plea
she wouldn’t have expected from this warrior. The supplication undermined any
objection she could’ve voiced. Nicolai, whether because of his role as the
guardian of his race or a misplaced responsibility to his wife, wanted to
defend her.

Damn.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll go.”

Chapter Five

The Massachusetts Berkshires spread out before Nicolai in a
majestic panorama of rock, forests and sky. Hidden in the wilderness near the
Bash Bish Falls, the safe house was isolated, surrounded by a copse of thick
trees, a sheer rock wall and a hundred-foot gorge.

It was beautiful.

It was secure.

It was hell.

The last two days had been his personal version of Tartarus.
In that deep pit, Tantalus had water he could never drink and fruit he could
never eat as his eternal punishment.

Nicolai had Tamar.

Secreting her away for safety had sounded like a great
idea—in theory. Getting her away from Evander had consumed him, so he hadn’t
taken into account the effect of being in close proximity to her all day and
night would have on his mind and body. Body, hell. His dick.

He
wanted
. No, that word was too anemic to describe
the ceaseless hunger that clawed and bit at him with dagger-sharp talons. His
beast snarled constantly, demanding Nicolai take what he allowed himself only
in dreams.

The dreams.

Damn.
He blew out a hard gust of breath. His balls
drew up tight under an erection that hadn’t gone down in forty-eight hours. The
dreams had continued in spite of their seclusion. One would think the Fates
would give them a break considering he and Tamar were in one another’s back
pockets, but nope. Apparently the three goddesses had a warped sense of humor.
Bitches.

On a low growl, Nicolai pushed away from the front porch
railing and strode through the empty house toward the backyard. He could sense
Adon’s presence on the perimeter, keeping watch. Lukas and Dorian were out
hunting Evander and would return shortly to switch shifts.

For months now, Nicolai’s main goal had been to run Evander
to ground and kill the sick son of a bitch. Yet since the night of Tamar’s
attack, his priorities had altered. BT—better known as Before Tamar—nothing
could have kept him from searching for the traitor hours on end. Now he
resented every second spent away from the mysterious woman who hissed at him
like an asp, challenged his patience like the toughest crossword puzzle and
made love like the most talented
hetaera
.

Lust clenched his gut and twisted viciously. Just last night
he’d fantasized of her kneeling between his spread thighs and lowering her
mouth over his rigid cock. The thick width had stretched her lips wide and the
groan she’d emitted had vibrated down his flesh and hummed in his balls. Shit.
He swallowed hard and his fingers fisted as the memory played across the screen
of his mind like a porno. The soft glide of her tongue under his cock head and
the tight suck of her mouth had his hips surging from the mattress, his dick
trying to breach her throat.

Nicolai placed his palm against the storm door that led to
the back porch. Instead of pushing it open, he paused, bent his head and
inhaled. Closing his eyes, he could almost feel the instinctive contraction of
her gag reflex against his dick before her throat relaxed and he’d slid a
couple of precious inches into that smooth tunnel.

He exhaled, lifted his lashes. Arousal that danced on the
fine edge of pain throbbed in his cock. It would take one stroke to find
release. Just one. The sensory image was that powerful.

But he kept his hands to himself—or not to himself.

Hell, if a person could die from blue balls, he might need
to get his affairs in order.

It worried him, the consuming need, the voracious hunger
that refused to stay in the realm of sleep. Control was imperative. It meant
the difference between success and failure, life and death. Nothing had jeopardized
that tight rein. Even when Pria had died, he’d channeled his anger, grief and
guilt into the hunt, into taking down those who endangered his people.

Discipline hadn’t been an issue…until Tamar. Until she’d
crouched in that corner brandishing an iron poker, prepared to fight like the
fiercest
cruxim
. It was her Amazon spirit that endangered his control.
It was endearing, sexy…valiant.

His main concern should be protecting her from Evander.
Instead he wondered if someone should protect
him
from
her
. Her
courage, beauty of heart and spirit haunted a part of his soul that would make
it impossible to walk away from her at the end of this.

Willing his flesh to behave, he shoved the door open and
stepped out on the back porch. The covered deck extended the length of the
cabin and was surrounded by a wooden railing and several posts. He notched a
shoulder against the nearest post and studied the woman exercising in the large
expanse of yard.

Except for those startling moments on the sidewalk and then
in the hospital, Nicolai didn’t see Pria when he gazed at Tamar. Of course it
was impossible not to notice the resemblance, but the two women were so
different.

Where Pria had been a sweet kitten, Tamar was a fierce
lioness.

Since their arrival, Tamar had spent at least two hours in
the morning and two in the afternoon back here, putting her body through a
cardio and strength-training regimen. With a determined expression on her face
and buds plugged in her ears, she worked her body without mercy.

The first day she’d worn a long-sleeved shirt over her
sports bra. As she hit her stride and the sun rose higher in the sky, it hadn’t
been long before she’d stripped the top off. The mottled, scarred flesh on her
left arm, shoulder, torso and leg gleamed dully under the perspiration coating
her body.

In his head, Nico had caught Adon’s sharp intake of breath.

“What happened to her?”
he had asked along their
telepathic link.

“Plane crash,”
Nicolai responded.
“Three years
ago.”

Awe and admiration coasted down their bond several seconds
before Adon’s solemn
“warrior”
echoed in Nicolai’s mind.

Nicolai agreed. In their society, strength and valor didn’t
always equal muscle or heroic deeds. It entailed sacrifice, courage in the face
of insurmountable odds, a toughness of spirit as well as body. Tamar embodied
all these worthy traits—prized more in a soldier than skill and power.

After discovering Tamar’s name, he’d researched her. There
had been plenty of information available. The crash made national news as well
as the extent of her injuries and the hard, painstaking recovery that had lain
ahead. Years later, she’d recuperated and salvaged the life that had almost
been taken from her. The pain she must have suffered grieved him, made him wish
he could have been there to comfort and care for her. But to Nicolai, each scar
and ridge of puckered flesh represented her tenacity and bravery.

They were beautiful and sacred.

Unfortunately, as he stared at the sexy play of tendon and
muscle across her back when she lifted her arms above her head in a stretch, he
doubted Tamar viewed them the same way.

Today, like the last two days, the motions seemed
effortless. If it wasn’t for the thin sheen of sweat that glistened on her arms
and throat and created a dark vee down the front of her top, he would have
believed the workout didn’t cost her. But a fine tremble shook her torso and
legs. How much of her exhaustion was due to the rigorous routine and what
portion could be blamed on the nighttime restlessness that kept her up until
well after midnight, pacing the lower level of the cabin?

One glance at the pallor under her golden complexion and the
slightly gray circles beneath her amber eyes answered his question.

Nicolai had observed her the past two nights, his
gyges
concealing him from sight as she wore a path in the floor, stopping to massage
her legs and round her back as if attempting to ease an ache. Only the
knowledge that she would not have appreciated his interference kept him hidden,
watching. Still he refused to leave her alone—he gave her company even if she
didn’t know it.

“Did you need something, Buckbeak?”

Arousal and annoyance kicked him in the gut and he gritted
his teeth. A loud snicker echoed in his head and Nicolai assumed Adon, from his
hidden perch, had overheard the nickname Tamar insisted on assigning him.

“Well,” she asked, propping her fists on her curvy hips.
“Did you need me?”

Arousal won. His cock jerked behind the zipper of his jeans,
snarling a
hell yeah
in reply. His heart lurched also.

Yeah, I need you to look me in the eye, not over my
shoulder. I need you to share your thoughts and fears with me. I need you to
hunger for me like I crave you.

“No,” he said. And before he did something incredibly stupid
like utter his thoughts aloud, he turned and headed back across the porch and
inside the cabin.

Damn, he hoped he found Evander tonight. He needed a good
fight.

* * * * *

Tamar heaved a sigh of relief as Nicolai disappeared inside
the house.

With him gone, she could breathe again. She’d sensed his
presence the second he’d exited the safe house and stood on the porch, his
brooding stare a physical stroke over her skin.

It had unnerved her.

It had annoyed her.

It had set every synapse firing, transmitting desire from
cell to cell until she was one big pulsing mass of lust.

The last two days had been a lesson in restraint. She could
write a book on the topic—
How to Act Like You Don’t Care When All You Want
to do is Lick Him Like a Lollipop
.

As much as her nickname irritated him, it was her only
defense against the desire that was a reflex to his nearness. She rose from a
lunge and bent over at the waist, her palms resting on her knees. Nicolai had
whisked her to this cabin for safety, but right now he was the biggest threat
to her sanity. He was an addiction. A compulsion. And he had heartbreak written
all over him.
Her
heartbreak.

“Damn,” she muttered, staring at the lush grass. Days cooped
up in this place and she craved him with every single breath she took. She
swore his scent permeated each room in the two-level cabin. Imagined she could
sense him even when alone. Especially the past few nights when she’d been up
striving to ease the ache in her legs and back. The spasms had increased in
intensity and disturbed her already restless sleep. She tried not to dwell on
what it could mean. The possibilities terrified her.

These days she needed to prioritize her fears since there
were so many contenders. In first place was the homicidal hippogryph intent on
her death. Second on the list were the new symptoms that could or could not
mean the deterioration of her body.

If Nicolai failed to catch Evander, first place would cancel
out second, hence its slot in the hierarchy.

She would be dead.

Third place was awarded to the dreams. When Tamar finally
managed to drop off to sleep after her midnight walk-a-thons, Nicolai awaited
in her dreams—their dreams. Heat flared up her chest and throat, converging in
her face. Last night…
God
. This morning she’d spied the memory of their
shared fantasy in the hard, bright glitter of his eyes and the tension in his
body.

It had taken every ounce of her weathered and tattered
self-control not to leap across the room, take him down to the floor and demand
he fuck her senseless.

But she’d held back. In the darkest hours of night she
submitted to him, but that’s where the mind-blowing sex and
I-can’t-feel-my-legs orgasms ended. This fierce need had to stay in the realm
of dreams. Because if she allowed the fantasies to become reality, she wouldn’t
walk away from this with her heart intact. The moment Nicolai had pleaded with
her to let him protect her, he’d won half of that traitorous, ignorant organ.
If she surrendered the other part, she might do something stupid like beg him
not to leave her. Or to take her with him.

She would be giving up the life she’d worked so hard to
reclaim.

And wasn’t that her fear? Once more she would become
dependent on another person, subject to their decisions, whims…betrayals.

There were parts of her Tamar despaired she would never
retrieve—her outgoing daredevil spirit, her open willingness to trust people.
The Tamar of three years ago would have jumped at the opportunity to soar on a
mythical creature’s back. But the Tamar who was terrified of flying, the dark
and her shadow, had refused, opting to take the long trip to the mountains and
safe house in a cramped car.

The crash had stolen so much from her, she couldn’t give up
more—there wouldn’t be any of her left.

That she couldn’t—wouldn’t—do.

Straightening, she tilted her head back on her shoulders and
the sun warmed her face. With the fresh, sweet air and the cool breeze tickling
her skin, she could almost forget she was on a maniac’s short To Do list. But
only for a second.

Tipping her head forward, she spun on her heel and trudged
toward the cabin. Days like these she itched to bitch-slap Fate. Didn’t she
have stray dogs to kick or little old ladies to push down? Instead she insisted
on picking on the traumatized, scarred girl with a limp. Wasn’t that like
double-dipping? How fucking fair was—

“Oof!”

Tamar braced her hands against the solid wall that had
appeared in front of her. A solid wall of golden skin, sinew and bone. A tremor
of need hummed through her at the unexpected contact. Unbidden, her fingers
curled into the unyielding flesh of his chest. She bit back a groan but
couldn’t control the shudder that shook her.

This close his wind-and-wild-heather scent wrapped around
her like a lover’s embrace. The steady pounding of his pulse throbbed at the
base of his neck. Heat poured out of him as if a furnace burned beneath his
skin. She closed her eyes and for a quick, foolish moment, allowed herself to
be lost in sensation. The thud of his heart under her fingertips. The brush of
his jean-clad thighs. The thick wedge of his cock pressed to her abdomen.