Firebird
Author: Jaycee Clark
Date: 2012-07-01T11:44:23+00:00

Talons: Firebird

© 2006 Jaycee Clark

Legend has it firebirds bring both good fortune and destruction, Reen has become an expert at both…

Reen is an expert at destruction and annihilation. She’s a Hunter, an elite, one of their best assassins, she’s also a legendary firebird—a creature of lore. Staker, a member of the Falcon order, is her soul mate from a bloody past she desperately tries to forget, but one that haunts her every moment. The two are thrown together in a desperate search for missing women.

The Collector is a man who loves the hunt, preying on the unusual, on the special—all to keep these women for his own use. The Collector favors shifters, the rarer the better. He traps them, keeps them, and turns them into his own private collectables.

Staker doesn’t want Reen to be a part of this dangerous mission, but she has other plans. Unfortunately, so does the Collector…

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

2932 Ross Clark Circle, #384

Dothan, AL 36301

Talons: Firebird

Copyright © 2006 by Jaycee Clark

Cover by Anne Cain

ISBN: 1-59998-146-7
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All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: October 2006

Talons: Firebird

Jaycee Clark

Dedication

This is for my girlfriends who know their minds and aren’t afraid to tell you, me or anyone else exactly what they’re thinking.

Jaycee Clark

Prologue

Laru Mountains

The forest was silent. The quiet too oppressive to be normal. Silently humming, she settled into the carriage next to her mother. Her brother sat across from them talking softly to their father who smiled at her then frowned.

“It’s too quiet,” Cyzarine said, her soft voice carrying on the cold air between them. She reached up to shove the gold velvet curtain aside, but her mother grabbed her hand and smiled. Yet her mother’s smile didn’t reach her blue eyes as it normally did.

No one in the carriage spoke. They were traveling for her to visit with her betrothed, whom she’d only met once before. Thinking of the arrogant Rourik made her frown. Cyzarine was a princess, her parents the last of mated fabled firebirds. Their kingdom in Western Russia had been in the throes of civil war.

A shrill cry rent the air followed by the long howl of a wolf. She knew the sound…lycans.

The howl was joined by another and then another. This was the sound of their enemy, a warning, a promise…

Their father looked out the carriage, then thumped on the roof.

“Derik, do not stop the coach, keep going.”

But even as her father gave that command, the carriage pulled to a stop, the horses stomping the ground. The night swirled between sleeping and awaking around them.

She glanced out the window, but her mother pushed her back. “No, stay still.”

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They heard it again, the lone cry of a wolf, followed by others—from one side, then the other.

“They’re around us, Papa,” her older brother, Gavril, said.

She checked quickly out the window.

Her father shared a narrow gaze and slight frown with their mother before he smiled at them both and climbed out. Her mother remained in with them for just a moment, then told them to stay and climbed out as well.

Cyzarine looked at her brother, only a year older than she. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“Shh.” He peeked out the window of the other side. His eyes went dark, as they did when he wanted to see, to look beyond what was seen by mere mortals. He startled and his face went white. “We need to get out. We must get out now,” he whispered. Grabbing her hand, he opened the carriage door on the side opposite their parents and pulled her out.

“Gavril? What’s going on?” She tried to tug her hand free, but her legs sank into the snow up to her knees. She wasn’t wearing her boots.

The wind picked up and Gavril jerked her along behind him. “Run, Cyzarine. No matter what happens, you must run!” He picked up speed and she stumbled along behind him.

“What’s…” She glanced behind them, surprised to see they’d gone so far from the carriage.

But from here she heard the howl again, the snarl.

A low cry rent the air and she saw a burst of flames, a fire of blue, green and bright red.

Her mother…

She tried to stop, but Gavril urged her on. She could hear him whispering.

They were running to the west, the tall trees spearing up and blocking their path.

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For the first time since they’d started their journey, she wished they’d reached her betrothed’s home. He was strong. She knew that. Had seen it.

Again she glanced back over her shoulder, not realizing they had climbed up an embankment. “Gavril,” she panted.

“Come on, Cyzarine.” He jerked her harder and she almost fell, but still she looked over her shoulder.

Below, she saw them.

The wolves, white and grey, some black, closing in a half circle around her parents, who weren’t flying away. They’d shifted into firebirds, their feathers brilliant, luminous, but they didn’t rise.

“Why won’t they fly?” she whispered.

Gavril turned and saw them. “Oh no. They think we’re in the carriage,” he whispered.

She opened her mouth to yell. Gavril slammed his hand over her mouth. “No. Hush. Come, Cyzarine. Hurry.”

But she stood rooted to the spot. Their parents’ wings flapped, snow rising from the motion, the red of their feathers like blood against the snow.

“We need the falcons,” he whispered. Then he jerked her around.

“Call him, Cyzarine. Call your falcons.”

She frowned. “I don’t have any.”

One wolf leapt and snapped at their mother.

Cyzarine shook her head. No. No! Mama!

“Call them!” He grabbed her shoulders. “Now! Rourik, your betrothed.

He’s a falcon, their leader. Call him. You must!”

She glanced back over her shoulder and thought of the young man she hadn’t liked very much. “Rourik, I need you. Help us.”

“Come on, Reen! We can’t just stand here.” Gavril pulled her behind him, both of them running and falling in the snow.

“We should shift,” she panted.

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He shook his head. “I can shift faster than you. You haven’t mastered it yet. I’m not leaving you.” He pulled her up again when she stumbled in the snow. “Hurry, Reen. Hurry.”

She could hear the wolves baying closer.

Rourik! Rourik! Please, we need the falcons!

Something slammed into them from the side. Flames burst all around them as the cold snow covered her face. She felt Gavril beside her one moment, then he was thrown away.

Growls and snarls filled the air.

“Run, Cyzarine. Run! ” She glanced down the hill and saw feathers littered the pristine snow, saw the wolves jerking apart the body of a bird. “No!” She screamed.

Cyzarine stumbled to her feet, the dagger her mother had given her pressed against her side. It was a gift from her betrothed. She hadn’t wanted it. Hadn’t wanted…

Please come! Help!

Something bit ice cold into her shoulder and she screamed, whirling and falling into the snow.

“Wait for our leader, he likes them young,” a voice said.

She wrenched her dagger free. Blood ran down her arm to drip from her fingers, making her grip slip on the dagger handle.

“I’ll be careful.” From the shadow of the trees a force knocked her again to the ground. She could smell the wet wolf and yelled, stabbing at it with the dagger in her hand.

Cyzarine whimpered. Where are you! Help! Please!

The wolf whined, whimpered and lashed out at her. Claws raked across her chest and she could only hiss a breath out.

Cries, high pitched and warning, screamed through the air.

Cyzarine’s vision wavered and she turned her head. The snow was so cold. A rock pressed against her back and she could see down the hill.

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The carriage was now on its side. The wolves circling it, looking up the hill.

Need to fly…to shift… But she couldn’t. The wound on her shoulder blazed through her to merge with the pain in her chest. Her breath puffed out into the cold air.

Scuffles and growls then a scream to her right made her look. A wolf ripped into her brother’s throat.

Cyzarine could only blink.

Then shadows arrowed down, swooping, screaming. She knew that sound.

Falcons…

Something grabbed her, wind rushed against her skin as she felt herself lifted.

So cold…

The world disappeared around her.

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Chapter One

Present day, 20 years later

He studied his prey through the glass wall into the room beyond. A white cheetah paced one way, then the other, in front of the glass.

From here he couldn’t hear the growl, but he knew she was growling at him. Knew she had learned the Collector liked to watch her.

After all, he’d told her he loved to watch her, had shown her, taught her what he liked and what he didn’t.

She was beauty.

She was precious.

She was his.

From her side, the large wall window looked like a wall of mirrors.

He’d had it specially made. The previous occupant, an albino panther, had lasted almost a year before she died. Well, she wouldn’t have died if it hadn’t been her time.

He sat in the velvet chair against the brick wall and pressed the intercom button. He inhaled and wished he could rid the converted warehouse of its lingering factory scent of oil and machinery. Even after he’d completely remodeled the old building, updating, taking special care for all the things he needed, it still often smelled of peasant workers.

A low growl filled the air. He smiled even as he reached over to the cherry-wood side table and poured himself a snifter of vodka. He sniffed at the warm slide of it down the back of his throat. So many loved the flavored vodkas, as old as Russia itself, but he was a purist. He hated additives.

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Which was why he only went for the perfect, for the rare.

Nribo, his current find, was perfect. She was fast, so damn fast. He’d seen her in a nightclub in Nairobi. And he’d known, known how rare she was, how special.

How she would be his.

“Are you hungry, lovely?” he asked, as he sipped his drink and watched her.

In human form, she was tall, lithe, her muscles tight and ready for battle. Fucking her had been a wondrous thing. She’d fought him like the cat she was.

But, in the end, she was no match for him. He was, after all, the demon that guarded treasures. His own personal gift was to find said treasures.

All part of the job, in his book. Or maybe it was more he was enjoying the fringe benefits. He smiled. “Lovely, pacing like that will wear you out,” he told her.

As he knew it would, the comment didn’t please her. She hissed, growled and leapt at the glass, her claws scarring the surface.

He chuckled. “Still so feisty. There’s no way out.” He stood and straightened his silk shirt. “You’ve scratched my mirror, that wasn’t very nice. I guess you’ll just have to wait for your food. But don’t worry, when you get weak,” he said, dropping his voice right against the intercom, “I’ll come revive you.”

The white cheetah roared.

He smiled and clicked the intercom off, then killed the lights in her room. Let her sit hungry in the dark. He’d know when to go to her, when to use her, when to appreciate her.

He petted the golden jaguar beside him, the metal precious beneath his touch. He glanced around his chamber, at all his special statues.

Jaguars, tigers, lions, birds of prey, wolves, even a few vamps and gifted, rare humans…

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His pretties, his treasures… Just to show her what happened to those who didn’t appreciate his attentions, he pressed another button and one of her walls faded from dark to be lit behind—revealing one of his favorite rooms.

The room was lined with furs, tusks, claws, feathers, headdresses—
whatever his fancy. Before he’d discovered his golden touch, he had liked to keep something from those which he had to dispose of. He loved to show his prize catches off to the new finds, who often needed a bit of incentive to do as they were told. Barbaric, yes—

The loud roar, turned to a mewl.

—but effective nonetheless.

She might be easier to break than he first thought. Wait until she saw what he planned to do to her. Now, he no longer skinned his pretties. That process had been messy and, though fun at first, quickly lost its appeal. The treasure he found, the golden athame, was ancient, cursed and blessed. It held great power, which was why he guarded it. It also took life and gave riches. Or in his case—a quick and rather simple way of keeping his rare beauties.

He’d decided to turn them. Now they were perfect for him, large as life, jeweled eyes, and…treasures of wealth. Again he ran his hand down his last pretty. What had her name been? Oh yes, Trish. He patted the golden head and turned down the hallway.

For now, he needed to check on his other pretties. He rubbed his hands. He had a new one to play with.

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Chapter Two

Russia

Reen wiped the blood out of her eye and limped up the stone steps.

She really hated this job sometimes. Her black boots rarely felt this heavy. The doors at the top of the steps opened into the grand foyer. The mansion looked like any other in Europe, except it was still a functioning castle. Not merely a museum for retirees and backpackers to tour through, this castle had a purpose. It wasn’t just any castle, this one was special—a defense like castles of old.

It was headquarters for the Hunters.

The Hunters tracked supernaturals that had become problematic. In this day and age of decadence, where the supernaturals were both worshipped and ignored by mortals, they often became bored. No longer was the world their playground. Now sciences wanted them for research, men and women alike wanted them for the simple fact of novelty and other supernaturals felt merely displaced. Displaced. She snorted.

Supernaturals with identity crises led rise to the new super shrinks—a new breed of psychiatrists. Whether or not she agreed with therapy for the confused supers, was irrelevant.

Cyzarine knew some people needed such help. Her? She’d rather eat her leather boots. Vamps, weres, the fae, all were trying to figure out how they fit into the new order of the world quickly outstripping itself of humanity.

Powers shifting and vying for attention left vacuums for greed, corruption and crime.

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That’s where the Hunters came into play. The supernaturals still needed balances, checks and in most cases, retribution.

She was a Hunter. Though more specifically, she didn’t just hunt the criminals, as many Hunters did, she eliminated the problems.

She was an assassin.

She was no different than many of her kind before her—a firebird could destroy. She merely cashed in on her genetic legend.

Petrov, the guard, nodded to her as she passed him, her trench coat hiding the weapons she used.

She shoved through the waiting area, completely ignoring Valerie at the outer desk in front of Erik’s office.

The doors were shut, but she also ignored the unspoken rule to wait until invited into the inner sanctum of her boss. Opening it, she saw someone stood in the shadows in the corner, smelled the spice of his cologne, gave him a quick glance, and then ignored him as well. She had only one man in her sights.

“Erik.”

“Reen.” He looked at her from behind his desk with a raised brow.

“I’m busy.”

“You call me in off a job, have your boys pick me up and expect me to wait prettily?” She shook her head and walked to the desk, tossing down the amulet she was supposed to have retrieved, which of course, she had. “Target is taken care of.”

Erik was a vampire, ancient, as the office rumors went. She knew for a fact the whispers weren’t just rumors. Though she’d never actually come out and asked the man how old he was. Some things were better left alone.

He looked at it for a moment, then turned completely from the window behind his desk to pick up the dull necklace. The stone glimmered faintly as if whispering secrets, and the gold beckoned to be polished.

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Cyzarine merely waited. Erik brushed the stone and then the chain with his thumb. He was dressed as he always was. Black. Black shirt, black pants, black shoes. She often gave him a hard time. Every chance she got, she gifted him some bright tie, scarf or pair of gloves. He’d yet to wear any of them. Not that she cared either way, right now she was pissed.

“I should shove that up your ass,” she said, again wiping the blood from her eye. She pressed her fingers to the wound in her scalp still trickling blood over her forehead and down her ear.

His gaze narrowed on her. “I should lock you in the infirmary.”

She blew out a breath and strode to the windows, looking out on the cold winter landscape. She hated the winter. Hated the snow, and here in Grubsretep there was plenty.

“I’ll be fine.”

Someone cleared their throat and she was reminded of the other person in the room. Without looking at him, she turned from the window and strode towards the door, saying over her shoulder, “I get one day off, then you can give me my next assignment.”

“Actually, I can’t do that.”

She stopped halfway to the door.

“Reen, sit down.”

Her eyes narrowed on his and for the first time, since storming in, she took a deep breath and tried to read the situation.

Erik was calm, but then he generally always was. He was however, frowning, the lines around his mouth and across his forehead deeper than normal.

Something warned her she might not like what was coming.

“I want to introduce you to someone.” He motioned to the other occupant of the room.

Reen waited as the man stepped from the shadows. He was tall, taller than she, but then many were as she was average in height. Where her 16
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hair was black, his was blond, almost white. Her eyes had a golden hue to them that many had often commented on. Including Erik.

This man, with his pale hair, had dark, almost black eyes. She had no idea if the color was dark brown or dark blue, they were just extremely dark. His body was long, not lean, but not overly muscular, reminding her of a runner. He had muscles, she could see them through the tight pale blue shirt he wore.

His face was altogether different. One might expect with his coloring and build that he’d have a refined face, one of beauty, of the classical statues she’d seen in Greece and Rome on her journeys there. But his jaw was too square, his brow too deep, making his eyes appear even darker. His nose was ridged, giving him a birdlike appearance almost.

Bird, she almost snorted. He sure as hell wasn’t a sparrow.

He merely raised a brow. Or she assumed he did, as his brows were as pale as his hair.

He offered a hand. “Saker.”

Saker. It meant falcon. Falcon. A cold, hard twist rolled inside her.

She took a deep breath and merely looked at the long-fingered hand, the sinews of the wrist, noted the scars on the back, across the knuckles.

Without taking it, she looked back up to his face and said, “Reen.”

The man arched a brow and lowered his hand. “We worked a case together a few months back.”

“Did we?” She didn’t remember him, or didn’t think she did.

He smiled slowly. “Yeah, we did.”

She tilted her head. “Did we get the bad guy?”

“Yes, we did.” His gaze stayed locked on hers.

A tingle of awareness swirled down her spine. She frowned.

Erik cleared his throat. “Now that the introductions are out of the way.”

She glanced at Erik and shook her pounding head. “Luv, what have you cooked up now?”

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He glared at her. Erik rarely glared at anyone. Reen wondered what she’d done to aggravate him. Then again, she normally did very little.

Without another word, Reen sat in the chair. Her head hurt, her arm throbbed where one of the target’s guards had caught her with a knife toss.

She rolled her shoulder, leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

Still applying pressure to the wound on the side of her scalp—thanks to the target and his sword—she merely said, “Get on with it, Erik. You obviously worry I won’t like it or you’d have already spit it out, then.”

She could sense it, hostility in the air. And it wasn’t hers.

Still she didn’t open her eyes. Instead, she shoved the pain away and thought of light. Light a pale pink, tinged in blue. Light soothed her, the colors of twilight calmed her more than anything.

With her eyes closed she could smell Saker even more, outdoors and…something dark. Saker. Now that she thought about it, maybe she did remember him. He was with the undercover team. Or was he? She had heard about him. Saker and Company did freelance work.

Mercenary. He was some sort of bird shifter—falcons.

She had no use for falcons. Anger swirled through her, but she pushed it aside. Falcons—in her opinion—were very unreliable.

Erik cleared his throat again. “We’ve got a problem,” he said finally.

“Usually do,” she muttered.

He sighed. She knew the sound of Erik’s sighs. The way so much emotion could be in one little sound. Anger, frustration, resignation. His was currently a mixture of all three.

“Luv, just spit it out.”

“Would you stop calling him that?” the other man asked.

She slowly opened her eyes to see Saker looking at her from across the small sitting area. He did not sit. He was leaning against the chair, his arms crossed. His voice was even timbred, deeper than she would have thought.

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“Why?” she asked.

He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, and turned a look onto Erik. If she hadn’t been watching, she would have missed it. But Saker’s eyes turned from black to a dark green glow.

She glanced to Erik, whose eyes hadn’t changed. As always he was calm, or appeared so.

“Look, we might have worked together before. But you obviously didn’t leave an impression on me. I don’t know who you are, but I do know that Erik and I go way back. I can call him luv, Erik or dickhead if I so choose, none of which you have any say in. And I really need to get going if that’s all.”

What the hell was going on?

“Sit down,” Saker said, not looking at her.

She walked to him and poked him in the chest until he looked at her, her own power, so recently used, still close to the surface. She felt the heat tingle along her fingers. “I don’t know who you think you are, Saker, but—”

Those glowing green eyes swung back to her and stilled.

Something in them made her pause…

“Reen,” Erik said on a sigh, “please sit down. We’ve got a serious problem and we all have to work together. You’re not the only one pulled off an assignment. Higher ups than me have asked that you two work together.”

It was her turn to cock a brow. “What do you mean, higher than you?

You mean she asked for the two of us,” she motioned between her and Saker, “to work together on some problem?”

Erik took a deep breath, nodded and raked a hand through his hair.

“Yes. In a manner of speaking.”

She rolled her eyes. “Erik, cut through. What’s the bloody problem?”

“The higher up’s daughter. She’s missing. And Navalovich’s pulled in all the best. That’s you two.”

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“I said, no, Erik,” Saker said.

She glanced to the man and shook her head. Very few told Erik no.

Whatever history he and Erik had, she didn’t care.

Erik’s words sunk in. “Oleana is missing?”

Oleana was Navalovich’s daughter. Alexandra Navalovich, founder of the Hunters and very quiet about her role as their supporter with the governments. The reason for her secrecy, she had a family and didn’t want them harmed.

“Who?” she asked.

“We think she might be the latest target of a person only known as the Treasure Collector. It’s possible and we’re investigating every possibility.”

Treasure Collector?

“I said no, Erik,” Saker repeated.

Her mind was already sifting through what she knew of the Treasure Collector, which wasn’t much.

“Isn’t he also known simply as the Collector? Missing rare shifters or something?” She thought she remembered reading something about him in one of the files.

“Saker,” Erik warned.

“No.”

She turned on Saker. “Fine. You said no. There’s the fucking door.”

Leana. Her mind crashed through with memories of her friend.

They’d met at the training academy as young girls and had always been close. The cat shifter, a white tiger. Rare even as supernaturals went, Leana had a lot of power. Her mother was also one, but Reen had no idea about Leana’s father.

“How do we know it’s the Collector?” Maybe they were wrong.

Erik sighed and waited until she looked at him. “He’s a blot on the books. People want him. They want the man found. He’s elusive as smoke or has been in the past. But there are too many women shifters, 20
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rare descendants, who have vanished from similar circumstances. No bodies are found, but missing is missing. And someone is taking them.”

“And you don’t believe in coincidences.”

He only arched a brow.

“When?” she asked, pacing.

“Three days ago.”

“And Navalovich is just now getting to this?” Anger swirled in her, her fingers tingling even more.

“Now, Reen. Leana is as old as you. She’s a grown woman, with her own life. It was just when she didn’t show up for a meeting with her mother that Navalovich started looking. And then she realized and pieced things together.”

Reen shook her head. “Three days? Do you have any idea what could have happened in three days?”

“Which is why I jerked you off the job you were currently on.”

“You could have said that to begin with.”

She paced away, forgetting about the wound on her head, and walked the length of his office.

“We have discovered that the Treasure Collector is a collector of the worst kind.”

“Of anything specific?” Saker shifted his weight.

Erik sighed. “Women. Girls. He likes female shifters. The rarer the better. We think he took or had her taken because…well, Oleana is one of seven registered Siberian tiger shifters. Before her, there’s a missing file on both a cheetah and a jaguar from early summer. The cheetah just went missing this fall.”

A collector.

“When did you learn this?” she asked. She glanced over her shoulder and noticed that Saker was glaring into the fireplace, watching the flames dance.

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Pissed at the rude man, either because he rubbed her wrong, or just because he was of the useless Falcon order, she let her power flow over her and into the fire. It leapt out at him and licked his hand.

He slowly turned and cocked a brow at her.

Arrogant.

One corner of his mouth lifted on a grin.

“We’ve traced him to a club in Grubsretep.”

“Which club?”

He didn’t answer her.

“Which club?” she asked again, pulling her attention from Saker to Erik.

Erik rubbed his forehead. “Bindings.” He shrugged. “We think. From previous reports on him, he seems to hop from club to club. We’re not certain who he is. He might be a worker in these places, a patron, or an owner. So we’re now investigating.”

“And how many other shifting women disappearances have been labeled as his?”

“Not certain again. Could be as few as half a dozen, or worst, more than three dozen.”

She could only stare at him. “Three dozen?”

Again, he shrugged. “This is in the last twenty years. Frankly there’s been little known of him, so he’s never been a priority until now. People go missing. Some get killed, some vanish because they want to, Reen.

But going with what intel is learning now of a man collecting rare breeds of shifters as a…hobby—for lack of a better word—it looks like he can be accredited several disappearances and possibly several deaths as well, probably his earlier works.”

She could only stare at him. “A serial? Is he human? Supernatural?

Shifter? Vamp? Do we even know?”

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He sighed and fell into his chair behind his desk. “Now that we have a place to start, and with this latest development, we’re setting up a team. Undercover all the way.”

She noticed he didn’t answer her questions. Then his words registered. Undercover team. “Good, when?”

He glanced for a minute towards Saker, then locked his gaze back on her. “As soon as we get everything in place.”

Blood ran down her forehead again and she wiped it away with a curse.

Erik frowned. “How much blood have you lost?”

She glanced at her shoulder, noted her pants were stiff with it where she’d constantly wiped her hand, her collar where it had dripped from her head. “I don’t know, does it matter?”

Saker cursed.

“What’s the plan?” She ignored the man.

Erik cleared his throat. “From the orders I received, we’re to go in—”

“We?” she asked.

He nodded and looked at the file on his desk. “Yes, we. You and I posing as a couple and he,” he said, motioning to Saker, “as your bodyguard.”

“Like hell,” Saker all but snarled.

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Chapter Three

Saker tried to calm the emotions raging through him. But he knew he was doing a piss poor job of it. Damn it.

He looked again at her. Reen.

Cyzarine.

Once upon a time… He’d been known as a prince, and she’d been his.

No matter that he hadn’t wanted her, hadn’t answered her when she’d called to him years ago.

Never mind that the bind between them had been broken by his own father.

Now he was standing here. He’d worked with her, though from a distance, on another case a few months ago, which had led him to question his father.

Alive. She was alive and all but vibrating with life, even as he knew she dealt death as quickly and efficiently as an adder.

…you obviously didn’t leave an impression…

A muscle ticked in his jaw and he was pissed at the fact he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Technically he had no claim on her. Hell, he’d been told she was dead. Had spent half his life blaming himself for a youth’s idiotic mistake.

He looked at her over his shoulder. Long and lithe, dressed in black tight enough nothing was left to the imagination, she was breathtaking and he couldn’t help but admire her. She was beautiful. Her skin 24
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reminded him of moonlight for some reason. The line of her jaw was a bit more square than most women he knew, but the fate’s knew that tilt of stubborn chin only mirrored her hardheadedness. Sleek black hair hit just beneath that stubborn chin. Her lips were wide and full, and already he’d had too many thoughts of what he could do with her mouth.

Straight nose. Her eyes—he remembered those eyes the most. They sat beneath dark, delicate brows that winged over wicked eyes framed by thick dark lashes. Tilted at the corners, like a cat’s, her eyes held a strange golden hue he remembered, that had haunted his dreams and nightmares for years.

He remembered a child. A young girl who hadn’t liked him, a spoiled princess who could have cared less who he was.

He remembered her scream of terror even as he’d lain with another woman. But he’d shrugged it off, just a moment, just for a second, instead of going to her.

It had cost him the throne. Not only had his father answered her call, but he’d severed the bind and disinherited Saker.

Fine.

And she lived.

He took another breath, watched as she ignored him yet again and walked to Erik. Erik, a death caller, a nightwalker, a living dead. A fucking vamp.

Saker studied her even as she draped an arm around Erik’s neck and whispered in his ear, though Saker had no trouble hearing. “We’re going to be a couple? How fun. It’s been awhile since we got to play that role.

Want a bite?”

“Reen,” Erik tried, his eyes turning an iridescent purple.

Saker knew Erik knew who he was, probably knew that they were—
or had been—mated.

Saker still wanted to rip his fucking heart out.

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He had no right to lay a claim on her, but he couldn’t help it. She was…

So damn alive.

Erik shook his head and reached for her arm, drawing it down. She merely smiled at him and kissed him on the mouth, traced Erik’s lips with her own, with her tongue. She reached, swiped at her still bleeding head and offered her bloody finger to Erik.

Saker was across the room quicker than he realized.

“What is your problem? Don’t like taking orders from women?” She stepped away from Erik, running her hand down over his chest as if straightening his shirt. The act seemed more intimate to Saker than the damn kiss.

“Depends on the woman and orders.”

She rolled her eyes and swayed, blinking. “Damn.”

Erik reached for her, but Saker already had her arm. They both held her. “I think maybe you should sit down. How much blood did you—” He saw then the dried blood coating her collar, noted it on her pants and realized he hadn’t noticed before because of the color of her clothing.

“You should be in the infirmary.”

“So he said.” She motioned to Erik. “Hate the smell of blood,” she muttered and slumped.

They both had hold of her and, for just a moment, she hung suspended between them.

Erik, a muscle twitching in his jaw, pulled her towards him. Saker didn’t let her go.

“She doesn’t know you,” Erik said, his voice gruff. “And if she did, she’d probably kill you.”

Saker took a deep breath and hearing the truth, let go.

Erik lifted her and laid her on the couch. “She hates the smell of blood. And do you know why, Saker?” he asked, brushing the dark black 26
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hair away from the side of her head to see the wound. “Do you?” He looked over his shoulder, his eyes still glowing.

Saker didn’t care. “No. Strange to hate the smell of something she’s so good at.”

Erik growled, and Saker saw the fangs peeking from his friend’s mouth. “She was supposed to have been a queen, you stupid fool.”

“I know that. And she was supposed to have been mine.”

Erik merely turned around and muttered under his breath. “She has no idea who you are. I can tell you this. She hates falcons. Thinks they’re useless. Doesn’t care for them. Or their kind. Your kind. Can’t imagine why she’d have that prejudice.”

“I didn’t kill her parents,” Saker snarled, leaning over her.

Erik slashed out with his hand and shoved him back. “No, but you sure as hell weren’t there for her either. If not for your father, she’d be dead. And where were you, I wonder? Little late to stake your claim now.”

Though the man was right, he couldn’t give up. Couldn’t just hand her over now that he knew who she was. “I’ll go to Navalovich.”

Erik shrugged. “Go, I don’t care. You think she’s going to take your side on this while her daughter’s life is at stake?” Erik cursed. “Bastard got her deep.” With that he picked her up and carried her out of the room. Saker started to follow them, but decided against it.

He listened as they left, cursing and then made his own decision. He knew his father, knew the man had been angry, and damned if the king wouldn’t have known all these years that Cyzarine lived. Saker wasn’t surprised his father had broken their bond, and he even understood the why behind it. Hell, he’d have done the same thing if a son of his hadn’t lived up to his obligations. Now, however, he wondered if there was anything he could do to change it all.

Without a doubt. One thing he knew. He wanted Reen and he had to have her.

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Chapter Four

Erik watched her as Dr. Johnson looked her over. “This is deep. If she’d been mortal, it’d have killed her. A hair’s breadth deeper and he’d have split her skull.”

Erik crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. He was tired of this job. But such was life, or his life.

He kept looking to the door. He knew Saker was still here, but at least he wasn’t in the room. Erik looked back at Reen and wondered what to do. He’d always respected Saker, at least what he’d heard of him.

He knew Reen and Saker had previously worked on the same task force, though Saker was undercover, a few months ago.

Erik assumed, from Reen’s reaction, she had no idea of the previous partnership. He knew for certain the woman had no clue who Saker really was. Once she did? He sighed and rubbed his face.

There wasn’t a woman he respected more. He’d been in love with her since she first started her work for the Hunters. When they became lovers, he thought it might become more. But it took less than a month to realize that may never happen. Reen was the most guarded being he’d ever encountered, including himself. He knew her past, knew what happened to her. She was willing to share her body, even pieces of herself and her soul.

But he knew it would be a miracle if she ever gave herself completely.

So he’d do what he’d always done. He’d be here for her. It’s what he’d do regardless of how he felt for her. Saker might not like it, but Erik really didn’t give a damn. Saker hadn’t held her when she woke 28
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screaming from nightmares. Hadn’t calmed her when the past threatened to pull her under. Watched her when her job, the scent of blood, became too much and she shut down for days at a time.

Saker could kiss Erik’s ass.

Reen stirred. “Damn,” she whispered.

“You’re staying here tonight.”

“Like hell.” Her voice was thready. “No time. Besides, I know Doc will give me some delicious meds that will have me back by tomorrow.”

Erik walked to her bedside and leaned down until his nose was inches from hers. “That may be. But you’re staying tonight or I’ll tell Navalovich you’re in no shape for this job. You want to be part of it, you stay here.”

Her golden eyes flashed at him, but he saw past the anger, saw the childhood fear. He brushed her hair away from the bandage and sighed.

“I know you hate these places, Reen. Did I mention, I’m staying tonight?”

She opened her mouth, but he leaned down and lightly kissed her.

She didn’t shy away from him as she once did. “Don’t argue with me. You know in the end I’ll win.”

Reen shook her head. “I can’t stay here, Erik. She’s out there. And he’s got her. I’ve got to do research, I’ve got to…”

Erik had been distracting her, while Dr. Johnson prepared a syringe.

He injected it into her before she could knock it away. The balding doc, a lycan, quickly stepped back. “Not too often I manage to sneak up on her.”

“Ass. I’m not… I’m going to…” Her eyes slowly slid shut.

Erik huffed out a breath and brushed the dark strands of hair off her pale forehead. Her blood wafted up to him and, like always, he fought the urge to lean in and taste.

He kept brushing her hair back from her face, softly, listening to her breathe. She would be pissed, but if he didn’t sedate her to keep her here, she’d be out and straining against her limits. She was needed at www.samhainpublishing.com 29

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top form and he’d make certain she stayed there, even if she didn’t like his methods.

The doctor left them alone and Erik sighed, leaning close to press a kiss to her forehead. “Get some rest, sweetheart.”

“I don’t like you kissing her.” The growling whisper came from the doorway.

Erik didn’t need to turn around to know that Saker stood there.

Saker, Rourik, whatever he went by these days. Rourik was heir to the Falcon throne. Saker was a mercenary, a bodyguard, one of the elite who did whatever necessary to get the job done he was hired to do.

Erik pulled the white blanket up and tucked it around her. Motioning to the other man, they walked out. He didn’t miss the way Saker’s eyes began to glow when they rested for any length of time on Reen.

They didn’t talk as they walked down the hallway, up the two flights of stairs back to Erik’s office.

“I don’t want her part of this,” Saker said again.

“It doesn’t matter what you want. These are troubled times, Saker, she’ll do what she’s ordered to do whether you like it or not. Regardless of whether I like it or not. And if you knew her at all, you’d know the easiest way to get on Cyzarine’s shit list is to tell her what she can and can’t do.” He poured them both a shot of vodka from the chilled bottle he kept in the fridge. “But go ahead and order her. It’ll be entertaining at the very least.” Handing one to the other man, he motioned for them to sit at the small table in front of the window. He sipped and looked out the fog-edged window. The air outside was cold not surprising as this time of year it was still chilled. Spring was breaking slowly over the frozen land.

The daylight just now beginning to come back. Probably another reason he was tired. With endless nights, he didn’t have to worry about limiting his sunlight exposure. “She’s not a frightened child anymore,” he said, still looking out at the frozen landscape.

Saker said nothing and Erik finally looked at him.

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“You had your chance to save her. You chose to lay with another woman instead. Even your father doesn’t think you deserve her.” He leaned up and stared the man down, letting his own power rise. “Your inactions almost cost her her life once, I won’t allow your sudden change of heart to compromise her again.”

Saker took a deep breath and looked at a man he respected and might have considered a friend once upon a time. Instead he was angry.

Angry that this vamp with the violet eyes had more of Cyzarine than he’d ever had.

“What is she really to you?” Erik asked. “She’s not your mate. You can’t go before Navalovich with that as your reasoning. If the binding had never been broken, you might have a leg to stand on.” He shrugged and Saker wanted to wipe the smirk off his face. “As it is, you’d sound like a spoiled child that tossed his toy away only to decide later he wanted it back.”

“She’s not a damn toy.”

Erik swirled the clear liquid in his glass, grinned down into his drink before sipping it. “Indeed. I couldn’t agree more. If you follow orders in this mission, you might just learn something. Not only about her, but yourself.” He leaned close again. “I’ll warn you now. You start to cause problems and I’ll go directly to Navalovich and tell her we can’t work with you. We’ve got a limited time here, so shove your issues aside as the rest of us are doing and get the damn job done.”

Saker took a sip of his own drink. “I always get the job done. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

Erik saluted him with the glass. “True. Use that same meterstick to measure Reen’s ability to get her job done. She’s the best.” He finished his drink and smiled, amusement swirling the violet in his eyes.

“Probably better than you. Look, I’ll let you pursue her all you want.

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Away from the job. If she wants you, I’ll not do anything to stop it from happening.”

Saker could only stare at the man, both pissed and relieved.

“But,” Erik continued, his eyes again going violet, “you hurt her again, I’ll rip you to shreds then turn you into a vamp.” He smiled and flicked his tongue over his fangs.

Saker took a deep breath to calm the anger and his own power surging up through him. He nodded. “You’ll step back?”

Erik’s smile wasn’t amused. “If she really loved me, we wouldn’t be discussing this, would we?”

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Chapter Five

The club—Dark Fantasies — raved. Music, from hidden speakers, beat through the melee. Bodies slithered and twirled together. The scent of sex and booze filled the air. This club, like Bindings, like the others they’d visited, all smelled the same, all felt the same.

On the stage both men and women danced against poles, in cages, and chained to each other.

Places like this made Reen twitchy. She didn’t want to be here. It was the darkness blanketing such places that made her uneasy. She liked the light. It was as if all the light, all the good, had been sucked out by evil.

Not that she thought everybody gyrating, headbanging, or boozing in the joint was intent on causing misery and horror. Far from it. Most here were young, bored, and just wanted to have fun.

Most were doing just that.

This was the fourth club they’d been to in three days.

“I wish we hadn’t come here,” Erik told her. His dark hair was slicked back and caught at his nape.

She ran a hand down his partially unbuttoned, purple silk shirt. In her four-inch-heel platform boots, laced up to her thighs, she almost looked him in the eye. Her leather corset clung to her, her arms bare and her skirt, just shy of grazing the tops of her boots, was black and leather as well. She wore a collar, attached to a chain that her “husband” held.

Behind him stood Saker. That man had done nothing but watch her since they started this three days ago. He hadn’t said a word to her, but www.samhainpublishing.com 33

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instead, just studied her, making her skin…not crawl…hum. That was the only way to describe it. When he looked at her, his eyes just short of shifting, an electric charge hummed along her skin, slid underneath and swirled through her blood, called to her.

The techno beat slowed, the music more of a chant. Erik leaned in and kissed her on the mouth, hard and fast. She felt Saker’s gaze boring into her, felt the soft hum charge until a current seemed to zing through her. After three days, the feelings no longer shocked her, yet she wasn’t exactly comfortable with them. It was as if something sharpened inside her so she was even more aware of him, caught herself watching him from beneath her lashes when he wasn’t looking. The man popped into her head at odd moments. She pushed back from Erik and smiled up at him as she knew she was supposed to do. He ran a thumb over her collar and leaned close to whisper, “Sorry about the cover. But that’s these clubs for you.”

She leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his waist. “Don’t worry about it. You know I’ll do whatever I have to, to find Oleana.”

Erik fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her head back, looking into her eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of. No stupid stunts, Reen. I mean it.”

“I don’t plan on pulling any stunts. I want to get her out of this alive.”

Erik took the chain and led them to a table. There, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “You know he loves the rare.”

“And I’m as rare as they come. One of the last of a dying race,” she said, turning to look up at him. “Worried, darling?”

He narrowed his gaze at her and jerked his head to Saker. “Watch her.”

“Always.”

Saker stood just to the side of her, dressed in a tight black shirt, and black pants. A jacket did the job of hiding his gun. She took a deep breath and could smell the dark, outdoors scent of him. Her blood settled 34
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into a low hum. Since they’d gone to two clubs like this last night and the night before that and another calmer, more tame club earlier, Erik had been acting as weird as Saker. Both watched over her as if at any moment she might disappear.

She hoped she did. She wanted this bastard. After reading the file on him, she knew that even if caught, he wouldn’t give up what he would perceive as his greatest treasures. It wasn’t as if he sold the girls on the underground market. He didn’t deal.

He collected.

The men thought if they had him, they’d get him to talk.

Reen knew otherwise.

This man was accomplished, established, had perfected his art. So she’d draw him out.

She let her power tingle through her skin and wave out over the crowd. Nothing huge, nothing more than if she were excited, angered, or hell—turned on.

Which, around Saker, she seemed to be a lot the last three days.

Something about him seemed familiar, called to her, aroused her.

Saker put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t.”

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Aww. Worried about me?”

The hand on her shoulder tightened, then he leaned down, whispering in her ear as Erik had earlier. Though she was playing Erik’s wife, his whispers didn’t send shivers down her spine as Saker’s did.

“You’re going to gain his attention if he’s here,” he all but growled, the air warm on her ear, his lips soft on the outer edge.

“That’s the point,” she whispered back. Licking her lips, she watched him. Sure enough his gaze dropped to her mouth and followed her movements. Tempting fate, she reached out and ran a short, trimmed nail down his arm, feeling the muscles bunch beneath. “Want to dance?”

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His gaze rose back to her, his eyes swirling green. She’d gotten to him. Reen smiled.

He took her hand and jerked her to her feet, the chain dangled between them. He picked it up, ran it between his fingers. “You like this?”

She hated it, but she smiled again and licked her lips. “I like a bit of danger.”

“Careful, or you might get a hell of a lot more than you bargained for.”

He didn’t move them towards the dance floor, just stood there staring at her.

XW

Kladovik watched the gyrating bodies from his loft above the club.

She was here.

He knew exactly who she was.

Cyzarine—Reen—a Hunter. An assassin, no doubt looking for her dear friend, Oleana.

Well, if she wanted to see her, he could definitely arrange it. After all, he wanted to get to know dear Cyzarine more. Much, much more.

He smiled at the men with her. He knew all about them. When he’d heard of her, he’d run a search and found all he needed to know.

She was a firebird. The rarest of the rare.

He only wished she were white. Bright white feathers that could flame and destroy or bring luck.

She would be his new lucky find.

He smiled to himself and watched as one of the men she was with spoke to her beside the table, his hand going to the chain and the collar around her neck. Was she into both men? He knew they all worked 36
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together. He had ways of finding things out. But past the job, did she do both?

He’d wondered. Trios were nothing new around here, nor were same-sex partners. None of them mattered to him.

All he cared about was the Firebird.

Normally, he searched for treasures and when he found them, he took them. Rarely did they all but land in his lap. Tempt him, know he was looking and searching for them.

This was a refreshing new twist. Did they, did she know whom she taunted?

A demon?

Guardian of treasures? He chuckled. Poor stupid fools.

He pressed an intercom button and waited. A female voice came on.

“Yes?”

“Natasha, I want the woman that’s sitting at table four. Make certain you give her enough. And the men as well.”

A pause. “Yes, sir. What specifically do you want me to give them?

One of the men just placed an order of drinks.”

He thought about it for a moment. He wanted the men to be relaxed, not on guard. He knew supernaturals. Knew they were most vulnerable when they’d spent a lot of power. Short of getting into a fight, the best way to relieve energy was sex.

He might even get to see how well his newest treasure performed.

How passionate she could be.

He smiled. “Make sure they get a performance drink. I want to watch her bind with a mate.” Whichever one it was. And it wouldn’t matter.

She’d be so lustful after her drink, anyone would do. If she caused a fight, and distracted her two bodyguards, he’d move then. Otherwise, he’d wait… And watch…

Then take…

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Chapter Six

Saker pulled her closer, keeping enough slack in the chain on her collar that he didn’t jerk her this way or that.

Her body moved against his, taunted him. He glanced around and noticed others jostling around them on their way to the dance floor.

A woman in the cage screamed, drawing his attention. But it was hardly a scream of pain. One of faked pleasure. A man holding a dildo was with her.

Saker hated these places. He’d worked in enough of them. It wasn’t that he detested being here, so much as he couldn’t stand the thought that Reen was here.

He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact she was… A what? An assassin.

He’d known, but knowing and accepting when every instinct in him was growling for him to protect, were two very different things.

She sure as hell didn’t look like an assassin in her current dress. She looked like a fuck-girl. Or what he thought of as fuck-girls. She screamed sex, of submissiveness. Which was what they’d all planned on.

All but him.

She was his. The more time he spent with her, the more he couldn’t get her out of his damn mind.

He knew her smell—woman, exotic, strong. It was a dark and tempting scent that wrapped around him every time he was around her.

Her pulse, just there, beat quickly where her neck joined her collar. He ran a thumb over the pounding skin, pale as moonlight and soft as silk.

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The ends of her hair skimmed the back of his knuckles. He tucked a strand behind her ear and looked back at her slanted, amber eyes. “You really shouldn’t be here.”

A slow smile lifted her lush lips, painted scarlet red. “You just want me all to yourself,” she whispered, her voice husky and full of promise.

He narrowed his gaze at her. “What game are you playing?”

Her tongue slowly licked her bottom lip.

Saker wanted her.

Plain and simple.

Erik cleared his throat. “Drinks are here.” He passed them around, along with a warning look at Saker, until Saker finally let the chain slide between his fingers.

Erik reached over and snagged the end of the links.

Reen’s laughter danced out, as sensual as the woman herself. She picked up her drink and took a sip, then drained it.

Saker raised his brow. “Thirsty?”

She eyed his drink then challenged, “You chicken? I thought all you warrior types could hold your own.”

“Reen,” Erik warned.

She turned and offered him a smile. “Come on, Erik. It’s not even alcoholic, I’m just giving the ass a hard time.”

Erik’s gaze shifted from her to Saker. Saker downed his own drink.

Erik shook his head, and sipped his, frowning, then set it aside as he sat in his chair. “We should mingle.”

“You mean I get to wander around all by my little lonesome? And here I thought I was your slave for the evening.” She leaned over, her corset-plumped breasts right in Erik’s face.

Saker reached out to jerk her back, but then fisted his hand.

The mission… He didn’t want her flirting with the damn vamp.

He gritted his teeth as she ran her fingers through Erik’s dark hair.

The club pulsed around them.

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She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and straightened. “I want to dance.”

The music, still slow, deep, dark, floated over the room. The lights flickered off and on.

Erik’s hand held the chain, but Saker snatched it from the other man. “Fine, let’s dance and see what we can learn.” To seem as if he didn’t have a care in the world, he added, “Place is probably a waste of time just like the last.” He held the chain and led her to the dance floor.

It was crowded and they made their way through the melee of bodies closer to the stage where there was a bit more room.

The dark music seemed to move through his body, swirl around his head. He shook his head and took a deep breath, but all he smelled was her.

Cyzarine’s scent. Dark and promising.

An image of them wrapped and tangled together flashed in his mind.

It seemed to come alive, manifest itself.

His cock grew, pressed against his black pants. He pulled her closer, looking only at her eyes.

She moved against him, her thighs brushed his, then her groin, her hips, her trim waist, her breasts.

A wave of liquid desire brushed and moved against him.

She sucked in a breath, her amber eyes glowing gold at the edges.

The music beat against the air. Something buzzed through his system.

Her desire wrapped him in a tight fist and he shook his head again.

But all he could think about was her, her body, sinking deep and hard into her. Her arousal wafted between them and he jerked her closer, insinuated one thigh between her boots, pressed and pulled until she straddled him.

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The music filled his head, thoughts of fucking her slammed into him, twisted the desire tighter and harder inside him until that was all that he could think of. All he could focus on.

She raised her arms, and her breasts, pushing against the edge of the black corset, threatened to pop free. He leaned her back over his arm and bit down at the sight of her areoles, then her nipples, a pale dusky pink. Saker could no more stop himself than his next breath, even as some inner voice blared a warning in his head.

He could feel her power, her lust brush against his.

Her eyes were shut, but he didn’t care. He kissed the top slope of one pale breast, then moved to the other, quickly licking and laving the sensitive peaks.

She grasped his skull, her fingers raking through his hair. “Saker,”

she said, an edge of plea to it.

He pressed his thigh higher, harder against her and could feel the heat from her core. She was already wet.

He growled and jerked her up, chest to breast to him. Her mouth devoured him, her tongue feasting and dueling with his.

“I want you,” she muttered between kisses, “I want you now.”

Some sane part of his brain knew this wasn’t right, but he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t keep from raising her skirt.

“Please…”

“Just a minute, baby,” he told her, glancing to their right and the small stage. He turned them, grabbed her ass and set her on the edge of the dark stage. Blue lights rained down on them.

He didn’t care.

The music thrummed against his skull. And only one thought burst through.

Take her.

Take her.

Take her.

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He grabbed the scrap of silk between her legs and ripped it away, shoving it into his pocket.

Her eyes were golden pools of light, vague, yet as bright as topaz.

“You’re mine,” he growled.

In some part of her mind Reen knew this wasn’t…right. It was what she wanted, what she needed, what she had to have. But something didn’t seem right.

All she could smell was him—dark forests, deep secrets. Images of them wrapped together, of Saker thrusting into her filled her mind.

She couldn’t think beyond him, beyond her want of him.

Her breasts were still caught above the edge of the corset, every rake of his clothed chest against her nipples made her gasp, made her want.

Then he ripped her thong away and her body pulsed.

She knew she couldn’t shift. Couldn’t let her power fully free. But the need to was almost overwhelming.

It had never been like this before.

Lights started to swirl around them, but she couldn’t think about that, couldn’t concentrate.

“Now, Saker, for God’s sake. Now!”

His cool fingers parted her, jerked a moan from her throat as they grazed over her pulsing flesh, wet and slick with her own needs. His fingers slid deep and she arched against him, even as his thumb pressed her sensitive peak.

“More. I need more.”

“And you’ll get it.”

“Move! Move!” A voice yelled, but she didn’t care.

She could feel him poised there, hot and hard, just there at the edge of her opening.

“Reen! What the hell are you doing?” someone shouted.

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Reen grabbed Saker’s ass and arched against him, jerking him into her.

She cried out and the air exploded around them. “Damn it! Stop!” the voice yelled again.

But she couldn’t, simply couldn’t. Saker groaned above her and she could only stare at his eyes. The air around them glowed, shimmered and shifted, and muffled everything, the music, the yells, the people.

All she saw was Saker, his black eyes glowing green, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw. All she heard was his breath, faster and panting, his growls and groans, her own.

Then he reached down and flicked his finger over her clit and she shattered, screaming out her release as Saker yelled his own and thrust again into her one final time. Sparks rained down on them and for a moment everything seemed to still, to calm, to comfort.

“Fucking A!” the voice yelled, then Saker was jerked from her. Her brain couldn’t get around anything.

The room seemed to spin around her.

“What the fuck are you doing, you stupid son of a bitch.” Roars and curses filled the air, pressed in on her.

Something’s very wrong…

She couldn’t stop, couldn’t grasp…

Someone lifted her from behind. “Come, my pretty, let’s get you out of here.”

A prick bit the side of her neck and she moaned as fire burned beneath her skin.

“No,” she mumbled.

Reen felt herself lifted, tried to turn and see who it was, but didn’t have the energy, couldn’t…

Stop…

The world went black.

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Chapter Seven

Erik slammed his fist against Saker’s jaw, snapping the other man’s head back. Saker’s eyes glowed green.

“You sneaky bastard,” Erik snarled, his own power charging over him.

Patrons had made a semicircle around them.

Saker shook his head, and swiped out at Erik. “She’s mine!”

“Not any more.” Rage roared through him. Erik had no idea what the hell had happened, but one minute he was weaving through the crowd, up on the catwalk. Then an energy, pure sex charged across the club, aroused the air and thrust against him.

He’d looked over, across the converted warehouse to see a couple on the edge of the stage.

Fury had lit inside him like only a few times before. Saker and Reen.

The air glowed around them, as it only did with true mates. For long seconds, then moments, Erik couldn’t get to them.

Saker and Reen.

Reen…

She’d been fucking a falcon on a stage before a club full of people.

Warning screamed through him.

But it had been as if a barrier kept them from everyone else.

Until, finally, Erik, enraged, had gotten through then jerked the sonofabitch around. “How dare you.”

“I dare because she’s mine,” Saker stated, his eyes still glowing, his power too close to the surface.

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Erik growled, felt the sharp edge of his fangs against his tongue and wanted to suck the bastard dry.

He glanced to the stage.

The empty stage.

He froze.

Saker slammed into his jaw, and Erik didn’t even try to fight the man off. Instead he tamped down on his own rage, to focus.

He shoved Saker away. “She’s gone,” he rasped.

The fury in the other man still hummed in the air, but Saker stopped, lowered his raised arm and turned to look.

“No. No!” Saker let out a cry, high-pitched and shrill. The call of the falcons.

Fuck. Erik said into the microphone hidden in his sleeve, “Flame is missing. Repeat Flame is missing. Report. Search the outer perimeter of the building.”

Saker shoved people out of the way, and leapt back onto the stage, his own team members pulling out of the crowd and surrounding him.

One man, Gregori, Erik recognized. Gregori had left the royal palace with the young dethroned prince years ago and had remained loyal ever since.

“Perimeter is clear, sir,” a voice said in his ear.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!

Saker whirled and across the expanse of the space, Erik knew that whatever their differences, they would work together to find the woman they both loved.

XW

He carried her through the underground passage. The club’s music beat through the floor, the pulse hard and pressing against his nerves.

He knew he needed to get back or they might suspect him.

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Not that they would find him. And if they did, chances were they wouldn’t find his pretties.

They’d looked before and no one had found them. Not when they were still alive, and not when he’d turned them into his.

The tunnel, dripping wet from overhead pipes, the old bricks slick from years of mold and slime, turned sharply to his left. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled.

He looked down into her face.

Perfection…

A firebird? He smiled and leaned down, sniffing, pulling her scent deep within his lungs.

He’d have fun with this one. She was passionate. He now knew that.

Kladovik frowned. The lights. He’d seen the lights shimmer and dance as this pretty mated with, not the one she arrived with, but with the bodyguard. He’d seen lights like that before.

The Mating Glow, many called it.

So who was her mystery man? Or had it simply been his little additives and incantation?

Kladovik shrugged. It hardly mattered. Those looking for her would be all over the club.

The darkness enveloped them as he quickly carried her. He slung her over his shoulder and climbed the ladder, shouldering the manhole lid out of the way. At the top, he scanned the deserted area.

Empty.

Three blocks away.

He quickly climbed out and deposited her in the waiting limo he’d called. The driver was a lower demon trying to climb through his powers and ranks. Still had a lot to learn, but he was eager to prove his worth.

There weren’t any better.

Kladovik didn’t question the younger demon’s loyalty.

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“Take her to her new home. Put her in the third room.” He straightened, then secured her hands and as a last precaution, hung an amulet around her neck. He muttered a binding curse and pressed it to her chest.

Her legs were long. He ran a hand down her torso and felt his dick harden. “It won’t be long now, pretty.” He nodded to the driver and slammed the door, slapping the roof of the car.

With that, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his office. He hated transporting, especially when he had so much to do later and knew it would drain his energy.

High screeches faintly traveled on the air. He frowned, wondering what they were.

Transporting. His own phobia. It was like claustrophobia. For seconds it felt as if something or someone were pressing all the air from his lungs, pressing the world down on him, pressing.

With a faint pop, he took a deep breath, and found himself inside his office. He quickly straightened his tie and picked up his cologne, and splashed some on his hands. One of the security monitors showed two males—her males—pass his own guards. He clicked the monitor to another channel, this one surveilling the dance floor, and quickly used his power to erase the clip where he’d taken his latest pretty. He held the bottle of cologne and waited. Just as his door burst open, he let it tip, dumping the overpowering scent all over him.

He scrunched his nose and cursed. Then shook his hands off and picked up a towel from the nearby sink. “Gentlemen, may I help you?”

They both stood glaring at him, the blond, his eyes as cold and hard as the rarest of emeralds, the other, dark-haired with violet eyes.

Supernaturals.

He merely wiped his hands off and then sat behind his desk, pulling out a cigar from his humidor. He waved to his guards who came limping into the doorway. “It’s all right, Vladimir.”

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The guard muttered something beneath his breath, but the two men ignored it.

“Now, how can I help you?”

“A woman is missing,” the violet-eyed vamp all but snarled. “As the owner of this club, we demand your cooperation.”

Kladovik raised a brow. “A woman? Is there a specific one you’re referring to?” He swept his arm out. “I assure you, we can probably find you another.”

The blond only raised his head and sniffed, his eyes glowing. Then his gaze fell to the bottle of cologne.

Hell.

“Where is she?” the blond asked.

He looked at the men, then at the tip of his cigar. He clipped the end and lit the best Cuba had to offer. “Who is she?”

Neither answered.

Kladovik inhaled and blew the smoke out into the air. “I don’t appreciate people coming into my place and fighting, disrupting my dancers, causing problems.” He motioned with his cigar towards the blond and stood. “I do have to commend you on your performance. It’s not too often we get such an authentic…” he smirked and thought for a moment, then shrugged, “…blatant display of pleasure for the sake of entertainment.” He motioned to the sidebar. “Drinks, gentlemen?”

The black-haired man flew across the room, his fangs extended, even as his hand wrapped around Kladovik’s neck. He took a deep breath, then leaned in and took another deep inhale. The violet eyes lit with rage and the hand around his neck tightened, the vamp’s fangs clear and threatening. Yet another first.

They knew.

“Where the hell is she?” the vamp asked in a low, icy voice.

Deciding now was the time, Kladovik only smiled, blew out the stream of smoke into the vamp’s face and then, transported. The 48
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crushing sensation and reemergence wasn’t as smooth as he’d have liked. He literally popped into the limo.

Sighing, he leaned back and looked at the woman draped in the seat next to him. He ran a hand over her short dark hair and then chuckled.

Plans changed. He wouldn’t try to dissuade them of his involvement.

He’d thought he could. Thought he’d cover her scent by his cologne. But they—the Hunters—had clearly smelled her on him, or the vamp had.

Who was the other man? The mate? He shook off the worry. In hindsight he realized perhaps he should not have returned to his office. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. This upped the challenge of eluding the authorities. Supernatural authorities were not as lenient as mortal ones. No, the punishment was swift and severe.

A trickle of worry slithered through him, but he shrugged it off and studied her. The perfect angle of her wide cheek bones, the lush lips…

This would be more fun.

A little more danger.

He laughed and ran his finger over the bridge of her nose. “We’re going to have fun, you and I.”

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Chapter Eight

Saker paced the office. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be out there looking. Searching.

She was his.

His head hurt like a son of a bitch. When he found the bastard behind this…and he would… “Otmudohat’,” he cursed.

Erik nodded. “We will.”

He stopped at the window. He had his best combing the city. He’d even sent an emissary to his father to let him know what had happened.

And what the hell had happened?

He couldn’t remember. Not really. He remembered dancing. He remembered her scent, dark and promising. Seduction.

But there’d been no seduction.

He’d fucked his mate on a stage in front of a room full of people.

Erik simply stood against the wall. Other vamps and shifters were scouring the city looking for Reen.

Cyzarine.

An image of her wrapped around him, her breasts his for the taking, as he plunged into her, her cry filling his ears, burst into his mind.

He had to find her.

Had to…

“I can’t believe I’m so stupid. So selfish,” the woman said yet again.

No one answered her. The leader of the Hunters was currently not acting like a leader but as one who had lost a loved one.

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“I love Reen as a daughter. Both my girls. What was I thinking, Erik?

You tried to talk me out of it. You tried.”

Erik shoved away from the wall. “What do you think Reen would have done if we hadn’t involved her?”

She wiped her eyes yet again, her hair as blonde as Saker’s. Her eyes as blue as folded snow. “She’d have gone out on her own. That’s what I kept thinking. I knew, knew she wouldn’t stop. But I never thought.

Never stopped to think that maybe, that she could be…”

She raised watery eyes to Erik and shook her head. “I’m turning this all over to you, Erik. I can’t think. I can’t… I’m too close. I don’t want this job anymore. I have two sons. I can’t…”

Saker cleared his throat. “We’re going to find Reen. We’ll find your daughter as well.”

Those eyes swung back to him and whatever softness, vulnerability, he might have glimpsed in them was gone in a blink. They glittered.

“What I want to know, Saker, is how the hell you managed to accomplish what you did.”

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”

She snorted. “I do. You wanted her, you had her and damn the consequences. Just like always.” She sat heavily in the large maroon leather chair. “So many mistakes. So much to fix. So little time. Why do I feel like we have so little time?”

“I still want to know what the hell he was thinking,” Erik growled.

“Jealous, blood sucker?” Saker taunted. He was spoiling to finish what they started.

Erik stared at him, his anger to the point that his eyes still had the look to them they’d gained at the club. Those iridescent, violet eyes had yet to return to normal. His fangs still shone in the lights.

“My only concern has ever and always been Reen and what is best for her. Unlike some, I put my own needs behind those.”

Saker shrugged. “Well, if you hadn’t. She might be yours now.”

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Erik growled.

Saker stood still waiting, just waiting.

“Boys,” Navalovich admonished. “We don’t have time for this. Either Reen and Saker were honestly meant to be together and no amount of bond breaking or separation would keep them apart, or they won’t be and the…binding…” she said, frowning at Saker, “…won’t matter.”

“It matters,” he said, softly, surprised.

She only raised a brow. “Saker, you had your chance with her and, if memory serves, you decided she and her power were not worth your or your people’s time.”

He looked back out the window and wondered when Gregori would return. Would his father know anything? A sliver of unease sharpened along his nerves. His father. The king would not be happy about this last turn of events—well, Cyzarine missing, obviously, but also Saker’s bonding with his past mate.

He sighed and rubbed his face. An image rose again in his mind.

A dark place, fear…a shimmer of hope.

He frowned and closed his eyes. What the hell.

Again, but this time sharper.

The room was dark. A golden circle with spokes wheeling out from the center. A faint breeze. The scent of…

“Kladovik.”

The cologne.

“We know he has her, tell us something we don’t know,” Erik shot off.

Instead of meeting the taunt he concentrated. Please, please, please.

He had to find her. Had to…

A darkened window. And still that scent of sandalwood and—
sulfur?— teased his senses.

A shuffle of something. The sense that the room was large, the ceilings tall. He tried to see more, to get more of an image, but then blackness shuttered down, and fear slithered through him.

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Until he opened his eyes.

It wasn’t his fear.

It was hers.

She was scared.

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Chapter Nine

Reen tried to focus, tried to understand what was going on. But she couldn’t grasp her thoughts. Couldn’t really see. She felt as if she were tilting one way then the other. As if she were rocking.

Rocking?

Was she on a ship?

She didn’t care for ships. Opening her eyes, she tried to concentrate on what was around her. Instead, blackness pressed down on her eyes.

She tried to move, but couldn’t. Her hands were behind her, her fingers tingling.

Bound.

She moved her feet and relief flooded through her at the fact her legs were at least mobile.

Where was she? What the hell had happened?

What did she remember?

Think.

Think.

Think.

The last thing she remembered was…was…

Dancing.

With Saker. His dark black eyes glaring down at her, a muscle ticking in his jaw…

The music pumped through the air. She remembered…

Wanting him.

No, needing him.

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An image of them entwined, his arm muscles tight and corded on either side of her as he pumped into her rose into her mind.

No.

No.

She did not fuck a man on a stage in a room full of people.

Did she?

Pain beat in her head. She rubbed it and realized she was lying on soft, silky sheets.

What was she doing at the club in the first place?

The Collector.

Her heartbeat slammed in her chest.

The Collector.

She needed to stay calm. The worst thing, she wouldn’t get out of this. Best thing, she could at least free Oleana.

She closed her mind to all but her friend. She’d tried the exercise for days, but had gotten nothing but disjointed images. It was something they’d learned at the Academy.

Focus and you’ll find your target. Or the victim. Link with one, you might find the other. Find more.

If she could do that, maybe she could link her mind with Saker.

She froze. Saker?

No, Erik. She’d meant Erik.

No. Saker.

The lights, shimmering, dancing. The mating glow.

No. No. Hellfire! Could it be? For a moment, all she could think about was those stupid lights, periwinkle and pink shimmering around them as they’d—damn—bonded.

She was bound to Saker.

She was bound to a fucking falcon!

Reen sat up, glad for the hundred plus crunches she did religiously.

How? How the hell could she be so…so…so…

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She closed her eyes as the room spun.

She’d been mated to a falcon once before, but she hadn’t really remembered Rourik. All she remembered about him was…

Was…

She frowned and tried to recall the young man she’d only met once who had acted as if she was beneath him.

But who was he? What color was his hair? His eyes? She tried to recall.

White-blond hair that had brushed the top of his collar.

Anger and confusion slithered around her stomach. Blond hair. And that arrogant tilt of his lips. How could she forget?

No. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t.

Saker. She’d mated with Saker. Rourik had been her betrothed. Just because they had the same smirk and hair and saker meant falcon didn’t mean they were the same.

Maybe they just knew each other, or something.

White-blond hair.

She closed her eyes. “I’m an idiot.”

Saker.

Forget it. She slammed down the walls in her mind, anger beating back the fear. She had a mission to do, and she’d do it if it killed her.

She’d kick his ass later, whoever he was.

Her muscles limber and stretched, she worked her body until she sat on her hands and slowly wiggled through the loop her arms made. It wasn’t easy. It had been years since she’d done that stunt.

Panting, she nibbled at her bindings, pissed that her knife was missing from her thigh.

Who took it?

The Collector? Who the hell was the bastard? Had he watched her all evening? Was he a patron? Or did he work at the club?

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Taking a deep breath, she imagined Oleana in her mind. Imagined her friend laughing.

But as usual, it seemed to take too long to connect to her friend.

And then the images were in black and white. Black and white, the room strangely dark, but lit. As if seeing at night.

Then Reen knew…

Oleana was shifted.

Knowing that, and rebuking herself for not realizing it sooner, she focused, and tried to find her friend the albino tiger.

Pain pulsed through her body.

Tired…so tired…

There was only a partial view of the room. From low. The rug was expensive. The far wall, a classical painting hung, the gilded frame, seemingly heavy. The chairs had been shredded.

Come on, come on, look around. Tell me where you are…

“Reen… Go… Leave. Don’t come here. He’ll keep you. Hurt you…”

“Hurts so bad. I hurt.”

Waves of intense pain crashed through her body.

Reen gritted her teeth, tears pricking her eyes. “Hang on. Please, hang on, Leana.”

“I just wish he’d kill me already, Reen. Tell Mom I love her.”

“No. No. Hang on. You hang on. I can’t lose you.”

She wouldn’t lose another person she loved. She’d lost everyone else.

Reen worked on the ties that bound her wrists. Leather. Why couldn’t the bastard have used rope or tape? Hell, even fishing twine. But no, he’d used leather and she couldn’t get it.

“Where are you?”

She stopped, listened. The only sound was her panting breath. She looked around the darkened room and wondered where she was.

Again she looked up.

“Cyzarine, where are you?”

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She ignored the voice and carefully stood, the pain in her head a dull throb now. She walked towards the window, but stopped when she realized something was in her way. It was so dark she could barely see.

The faint light from the window told her where the window was located.

But the rest was completely black.

She tried to move again and ran into a slim something. Shoving with her toe, she knew it was connected to the floor. She felt out in front of her, followed the smooth metal rod from in front of her up as far as she could reach. Then she ran her hands down until she met the hardwood floor.

Her heart fluttered in her chest.

She moved a few feet to her right and felt another one. And another one. Every foot there was a bar that ran up higher than she could reach.

She made her way slowly around the entire room. Or what she could of it. She realized then that the bed was in the center. The window was beyond her reach. And every two feet or so, there was a horizontal bar.

What the hell.

Then she knew.

A cage…

She trembled, shivered and sat on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest.

No. No. No.

No cages.

Everyone knew that firebirds couldn’t be caged.

They weakened.

They died.

I hurt…

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Chapter Ten

Kladovik stood in the hallway and listened. He smiled. He could hear her, shuffling about inside. Trying to get away? Trying to learn where she was?

Wouldn’t she just love his surprise for her? He made certain all his pretties had the best accommodations, perfectly suited for each one’s particular needs.

In the case of most felines, he found dungeons, damp and dank often did the trick. For lycans, he preferred light, lots and lots of light.

Avians—well, for them, cages for many. Sometimes mere separation from their mates. Clipped wings also worked wonders.

He smiled and popped his knuckles.

This was going to be such fun. He’d never had a firebird before. He glanced over his shoulder to the golden eagle screaming for all eternity.

She’d been beautiful in both forms. A solid white eagle, but he’d clipped her wings and she couldn’t fly away.

She’d never flown away.

And neither would his firebird.

Reen. Cyzarine? From the fabled massacre in the Laru woods?

Royalty on top of rarity.

He stopped in front of a tall mirror that hung from his high ceiling almost to the floor. He pressed the button hidden in the frame and waited. The mirror went dark, then lit from behind. And he could see her.

Sitting in the dark.

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He took a deep breath and even through the wall could smell her fear. There was just something about knowing a beautiful woman was afraid. Not just worried, but afraid, bone deep fear. It was even a headier feeling to know that he caused that fear.

When the fear turned to terror…

He took another deep breath and watched her. She shoved a dark strand of hair behind her small ear.

“Untied ourself did we?” he asked, rubbing his jaw. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Not surprised at all.”

She would be more of a fighter, a survivor than the others. She was trained after all. Her history proved she was a survivor.

Of course the last one had been as well, but then he knew they could all be broken.

He pressed the intercom button. “I hope you’ve found your new accommodations to your liking.”

He grinned as she stood and whirled, looking one way, then the other, then up. Her darted looks, her panted breath…

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice low, but still he caught the tremble.

“Aw, anxious for a meeting? I’m honored, I am.” He leaned up and whispered against the microphone. “Don’t worry, my pretty, I’ll be back and we’ll get to know each other a whole lot better.”

“Not in this lifetime,” she hissed.

He smiled and let go of the button, and watched her for a minute more. This would be fun. But he also knew, he would have to hurry. Yet he didn’t want to rush. He wanted to enjoy. Necessity or pleasure?

He frowned at the knowledge he couldn’t take his time as he wanted to, as he’d like to, as he deserved to. She was one of the rarest of the rare.

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This time, though, he’d have to hurry. Sadly, he didn’t have months or weeks. He’d be lucky to have days with this one.

The best things should never be rushed.

However, he didn’t see a choice.

The Hunters were after him.

XW

Erik watched Saker pace, the conference room had been turned into a working hub of activity. Photographs had been pinned to the board.

Women, so many women. The left side was reserved for those they knew were victims of the Collector. The right side of the board was possible victims.

Rare women who simply vanished. Mostly from either clubs or very exclusive parties.

No recent bodies had ever been found. So what the hell did the bastard do with them?

“I don’t get why no one has ever found a trace of these women,”

Gregori, Saker’s man, muttered.

“He keeps them,” Saker said.

“The Collector.” Erik nodded. “You’re right. He wouldn’t go to the trouble to find his treasures if he simply planned on throwing them away when he was done. That would be ordinary. He’s different.”

Saker pointed to the board. “They’re different. All shifters, for the most part. Though these two are humans, sensitives and gifted, but still humans. Talent and rarity.”

Erik nodded. The door opened and Navalovich strode in, dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes and her clothing rumpled.

Erik assumed they all looked that way. The incessant tick of some inner clock spurred him on. They had no idea where to even look.

“We checked all his properties?” Saker asked again.

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“The answer hasn’t changed.” They’d searched all the clubs, calling in all constables, local enforcers, state enforcers, even feeling their underground systems. Nothing. At least not yet. There were two warehouses that had been listed as developing properties in Moscow and Amsterdam. But they’d yielded nothing.

“You both smelled sulfur on him. I’m assuming we’re checking to see if he’s a demon or of a sect? Where are we on that information?”

Navalovich asked.

“The local demon council is investigating and said they’ll be sending a liaison to speak with us,” Erik answered.

Damn it, he couldn’t really feel Reen. He could sense her, vague wisps of fear, of worry, of rage.

But he couldn’t get a lock on her.

Not like Saker—damn the man.

Since they’d bonded at the club, Erik could feel his small stake on her fading and there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it.

Swallowing past his own jealousy and anger, he stared at her picture on the board. “Can you feel her?” he asked Saker.

Saker gave one nod. “He’s locked her in a cage.”

Which would weaken her. “He’s not stupid.”

Saker turned and looked at him, the dark black eyes glowing green.

“Oh, he’s stupid. He dared to touch her.”

Erik tilted his head and studied the other man. “When this is all over and we have her back…”

“She’s mine.”

“Even if she doesn’t want that? She might be pissed at the way things played out.”

Saker didn’t look away. “I’m not letting her go again.” He strode out the door. Gregori looking after him.

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Sokul Guard, nodded to Erik. “The king’s offered his services in whatever way they are needed. As we speak, his best are scouring the city to find her.”

Erik hoped to hell someone did before the Collector made Reen a permanent part of his collection.

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Chapter Eleven

Reen sat between a nightstand and one of the bars on the cage. Air still flowed around her. She tried to see past the cage, but night vision was never a strong point. She could see great distances in scorching light, blinding snow-white light, but darkness…

She shivered. She hated the dark, hated not having her back against a wall.

She felt exposed. She tried again to connect with Leana, but hadn’t made a solid connection, not like before. Either her friend was blocking, or…

No, she wouldn’t go there. Oleana was alive. Alive. She had to be. If Leana were dead, she’d know it, sense it, feel it.

It wasn’t that she felt—nothing.

She simply couldn’t connect.

She did, however, feel others pushing against her walls. Saker? Erik?

She had a feeling it might be both. But Saker’s attempts were stronger, harder, more intense and her head was already aching. Now the pain pulsed through it in a wave. She closed her eyes and tried to meditate, calm her racing heart.

This—the cage, the fear—was nothing but the Collector’s sick and twisted mind games and damn it if she wasn’t letting him get the upper hand. The more emotion she wasted, the less power she’d have.

Already, she could feel her power waning. It was the fact she was locked in a cage.

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Not just any cage. Only a special cage, one cursed and custom designed, could do this. He’d obviously seen her before tonight. He’d been waiting on her. She wondered when and where she’d first come across his notice. At least she was closer to Leana.

The man knew his victims, what made them tick, what they feared, what sapped their strength.

Behind her closed lids, she imagined her pale pink and blue light.

Light that had shimmered around her and her mate.

A sliver of anger shot through her mind, but she tamped it down.

She’d kick his ass later. Right now, she wasn’t about to let pride get in the way of getting the hell out of here.

What happened to the others? Were they all trapped here?

No, they were dead or kept somehow.

So much trouble and planning into what? For what?

Again, pain shot through her head from blocking. She concentrated on the sounds, concentrated on the window.

Then she opened her mind.

Images and feelings shouted against her mind. She took a deep breath and tried to understand, tried to focus…

“Saker? Saker? Where are you?”

Shock, like lightning, bolted down her spine.

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know. With him…the Collector. I don’t know where. It’s quiet, I can’t hear traffic noises. It’s dark…”

“Can you get out of the cage, Cyzarine?”

Even from here, she could feel the worry, fear and rage in his thoughts.

It had never been this sharp, this intense with anyone. Not even when she and Oleana had constantly practiced at connecting with each other. Not when she and Erik were lovers. With Saker, it was so…easy.

“Reen, what do you see out of the window?”

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She opened her eyes and left the connection in her mind open. “I don’t know…it’s dark, not as dark as the room.” She stared at the window and saw something fly by. She frowned and focused on it.

A click from the other direction made her gasp. She looked to the doorway and saw the silhouette of a man. He flicked his wrist out and the room flooded with lights.

“Stay with me, Cyzarine. Keep your eyes open and look at him. I need to see him…”

It’s weird, having someone else in your mind with you. She shoved the thought aside as the man spoke and she tried to blink, adjusting her eyes to the light.

He stood on the other side of the cage. He looked…

Normal. He wasn’t what she’d call second-glance handsome, let alone gorgeous. His hazel eyes were round, and deeply set, his face angular, his mouth thin. His hair was dark and wavy, cut close to his head on the sides, but longer on top. The suit was expensive, the shirt silk. A ring on his hand.

She focused on the ring, her vision narrowing as if she first viewed it down a tunnel, then as if she’d zoomed in with a camera.

A demon’s skull and a treasure chest.

Almost like the human pirates.

But this was different. She knew it.

“What is your name?” she asked, looking back up at him, shielding her eyes.

He slowly walked around the cage, which she now saw was enormous and bolted in the ground. The cement ground. The ceiling…there was no ceiling here. Here there was only the bare metal trusses—a warehouse.

She closed her eyes and listened more carefully, focused on the window, focus….

Focus…

The lap of water… Softly…

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Talons: Firebird

Water? She opened her eyes and watched as he walked the perimeter of the cage. A golden cage. His hand negligently trailed from one bar to the next as he walked closer and closer to where she sat.

Carefully, she moved away from the edge of the cage.

“What do you want?” she asked.

He smiled. “I rather thought that was obvious, moyo zolotse. ”

She held his stare, seeing past the hazel eyes to the blackness that lurked just beneath. “Who are you?”

He grinned even more and she could see how many might fall for his charm. “I apologize for not introducing myself earlier.” He bowed at the waist. “I’m Kladovik?”

Kladovik? “That’s not an alias?”

He waved his ringed hand. “No. I’ve used them in the past, but figured why?”

Kladovik…

Then it clicked. “A guardian demon.” She shook her head. So simple.

He raised a brow. “I prefer dark spirit.” He tsked. “Demon leaves such a negative connotation, don’t you think?”

“I couldn’t possibly imagine where anyone would get that idea,” she muttered.

He stopped in front of her and she pressed herself back against the bed. For just a moment, he let his charming shield drop and she could see the monster beneath, with the dark bruising, scaled skin and black empty eyes. “You and I are going to have lots and lots and lots of fun.” He licked his lips.

Inside, she shuddered. Instead, she crossed her arms and knew he couldn’t get her without coming inside. “Really? And how are we going to do that? You coming in here?”

He narrowed his gaze at her. “My dear, I’ve been at this a lot longer than you. Trust me, I’ll get in…” He smiled and it held no amusement.

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“When you least expect it. It’s much more fun this way. Leaves you on edge.” He grinned. “That’s more arousing.”

She let her own power rise up, an ancient power of fire and vengeance. “Hide behind darkness, do you? Poor thing. Maybe one day you’ll be man enough, or would that be demon enough, to face an adversary straight on.”

His nostrils flared.

“Stop baiting him, damn it!”

She slammed the walls back up between her and Saker.

XW

“Damn that woman. Do we have anything yet?” he snarled to the room at large.

A guardian demon. Their analysts knew they were dealing with a treasure keeper.

Apparently this particular one was even wanted by his own kind.

Treasure keepers were entrusted with secrets, with artifacts. They also guarded power.

Though their responsibilities were great, their power wasn’t, lest they lust for that which they guarded.

“Right in front of our faces all this time. Where is he?” Navalovich asked, pacing from one window to the other.

Saker hadn’t told her what else he’d felt from Reen. The pain that had coursed through her—not her own, but that of Oleana’s.

Anxiety prickled down his back and he rubbed his neck. He looked at Gregori, still pissed. The other man only shrugged. “Look, at least your father is helping as best he can.”

“He just didn’t lock the binding in, bless it or make it official.”

Gregori merely stared at him, then asked, “Did you really expect him to?”

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“It could help damn it. I’d have a stronger connection to her.”

Gregori shrugged. “You know your father.”

“Yeah, I know my father.”

He cursed and strode from the room. Water lapping. He’d heard the water lapping. With their location here in Grubsretep, he knew it would be on the docks. And there were numerous warehouses down in that district. Outside, he called the falcons. He’d find her. If it was the last thing he ever did.

With or without his father’s blessing, she was his and it was bloody time everyone knew that. Regardless of what they may or may not think.

Erik stood beside him. “You wouldn’t be hoping to rescue her all by yourself, would you?”

Saker, tired and angry, snarled, lashing out at the other man.

“Worried she’d love me?”

Erik stared at him, let his eyes glow. “You endanger her going off half-cocked.”

Saker took a deep breath. “She’s mine. I’m going to find her. Then I’ll let you know. Surely your people can find me.”

“I’m going with you,” Erik said.

Saker laughed. “You learn to fly, dead man?”

With that, he shrilled out a cry again and falcons swooped down from building tops to circle around his head. Muttering in his father’s tongue, he closed his eyes and shifted seamlessly. One moment he was standing in the alley behind the Hunter’s headquarters, the next he was flying, higher and higher, his guards around him, more coming.

They were larger than normal falcons, larger than any eagle. Their kind was almost extinct and only whispered of in legends.

He opened his mind, his eyes sharper, the landscape in black and white as he soared over buildings, towards the quay.

Again her fear and loathing slithered over him.

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He flexed talons that could lift a grown human and crush his bones between their sharpness.

That’s just what he planned to do to one Kladovik, after he ripped the bastard’s eyes out.

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Talons: Firebird

Chapter Twelve

Erik watched the circle of falcons, some small and normal. The others, larger than any other bird, swooped, dove and then aligned, a military fleet, searching.

They needed to do damage control.

Some human would be shooting at them in no time. He needed just one more problem.

He had a meeting with a liaison from the demon council. They needed to strip this bastard of his power.

Damn. Rubbing his head, he tried again to catch the elusive feel of Reen, but knew it was useless. She was blocking and Saker’s connection to her was too strong.

Cursing fate, he strode back into the building. He hoped like hell they wouldn’t be too late.

Once inside, he met with the liaison who confirmed the council’s information that Kladovik was the man, or demon—Erik figured monster covered it—they were looking for.

“We have a team moving in, but for the safety of the women that might still be alive, we want him stripped of his powers,” Erik told the man.

The council leader lifted one corner of her mouth. “That’s currently being taken care of. I’ve a feeling by the time your team arrives, he’ll be as human as the next person on the street.”

XW
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She watched his dark form circle the cage.

“Do you know what I want to do with you?”

She ignored him. He kept walking one way, then the other, his ring clinking on the metal bars. Knowing it was a scare tactic, a way to weaken her, to play with her mind, helped.

“I want to fuck you. I love sliding between the legs of women like you.

Strong women, women who are used to being in control.” A click and hiss as he struck a match and lit a candle beside the cage, then another and another until she saw the candles were on a large candelabrum.

“Women who hate to answer to any man.” He stopped and dipped his chin, smiling at her, his eyes locked on her from beneath his lashes. “I love to wear women like you down, until you’re broken.”

He laughed.

Reen shuddered.

“What are you scared of, Reen? Or should I call you Cyzarine?” He took a deep breath. “Are you scared of wolves?”

She froze, her lungs not moving even as her heart slammed against her chest.

“You are.” He smiled, his eyes glittering. “Poor, poor Reen. Such a fake you are. Dealing out death, when in reality you’re terrified of it.”

She shook her head. “I’m not scared of death.”

He tilted his head. “You’re scared of wolves.”

She didn’t answer, saw no reason to. But he knew. She hated wolves, hated their smell, their sounds, just…them.

She knew all lycans were not dangerous, were not out to rid the world of good. But the scars of childhood were deep and no matter how many lycans she met, she was never comfortable around them.

He pressed a button on a remote he pulled from his pocket. A pale light lit one corner and she saw the shape of a wolf.

She scrambled up and onto the bed.

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His laughter reminded her of things that slithered in the night. “Oh this is fun. It’s too bad I don’t have a lively one.” One corner of his mouth lifted with a hint of evil amusement. “Not to say I don’t have any alive. I do, but as of yet, none are in any condition to fight you.” He studied her again with his hazel eyes that seemed to go more silver the longer he stared at her. “Such a lovely you are. It would be a shame to have you shredded. I could offer to let one of my pretties go if she would kill you.”

She didn’t utter a sound. The man liked to pause.

“There comes a time when I reduce you all to simply surviving.” He looked at his fingers, picked at a nail. “You’d do anything, anything if you thought there was a hope of getting away.”

Her heart thundered against her ears and she realized she was playing into his hands. Doing exactly what he wanted her to. Become afraid, see him as the controller, the monster, the giver and taker.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on calming her breaths. She’d need her energy to defeat him, not let him sap her by baiting her emotions.

For the first time she realized an amulet hung from around her neck.

It wasn’t hers. She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t look at him. She reached up and ripped it off.

“While you’re meditating, you should know that I won’t let you go. I never let any of my treasures go. They’re all mine. Permanently. For me to play with, admire…pet.”

She opened her eyes and glared at him, this time she let her mind open, let her power flow over and through her.

She didn’t shift very often. Too many feared and revered what she was. A legend of great wealth and destruction.

His eyes widened, and he panted.

She kept her eyes on him and chanted words she’d learned as a child at the monastery, of protection, of guidance, of courage.

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This time, she felt the pain of shifting, of her bones realigning, of her sight changing, becoming sharper and clearer.

She flapped her wings, the spread too large for the cage.

Wind arose and stirred the air, the dust from the floor.

He smiled and stepped back, clapping.

Fire leapt from his right to his left, circling, closing in.

It’s my turn, you bastard, she thought.

“Cyzarine,” Saker shouted in her mind. “Wait for me, damn it. You wait.”

“No. I waited for you before. I won’t again.” Even as she thought it, she wanted to pull it back. She wanted him here. Needed him here.

With that she let loose all the power she normally kept contained, normally didn’t call forth.

Fire burst up in every direction, except the inside of the cage. The heat was fierce.

Still she heard his laughter, his damn clapping. “More! More! Yes!”

She stopped and took a deep breath.

“That was just lovely. Do it again,” he whispered right beside her.

She whirled, thinking he was inside the cage, but found him still standing on the other side of the cage.

As if reading her mind, he said, “I could get inside if I wanted to.” He smiled. “But I don’t want to, not yet. Not yet, pretty, pretty Cyzarine. I do things in my own time, otherwise it ruins the entire experience.” He took a deep breath. “God, I don’t know if you’re more beautiful as a woman taking on her enemies or as a firebird. Look at your feathers…”

She shivered, drained. Oh hell. What was she going to do?

“Maybe I do need you,” she thought, swallowing her pride.

XW

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Her feathers all but glowed. It was as if they themselves were shifting flames. Reds, golds, bright hot blues… Shifted and shimmered on wings of gold.

She tilted her head and looked at him. She was perched atop the table he’d set to one side, not too close to the edge of the cage.

There was also a swing hanging from the top center of the cage. He wondered if she’d use it.

“You just wasted so much power. Power that you can’t replenish in a cage, can you?” He leaned in through the bars and blew her a kiss. Then he pressed the button again and let all the lights flood the room.

She turned her head, the gold plumes atop softly shifting with her movements. He watched her eyes. Those golden eyes taking in what she saw…

The statues.

“My treasures,” he said and walked to the nearest one, running a hand down the spiked spine of the werewolf. He loved that he’d ended her as her hackles had risen. “Isn’t she beautiful? Her name is Coral. I found her in Ireland. Working in a dreary pub, singing with a ceili band.”

He brushed his hand over the head, the mouth open in a golden snarl.

“Now she’s mine. Mine to keep. She’s one of my favorites.”

He looked back at the firebird. A real, live firebird.

“I wonder how many have ever actually seen you?” He walked closer to the cage. “Such passion, heat and darkness.” He bent over and thought he heard a screech from outside the window. He picked up the golden down shed when she’d shifted. He glanced to the window and then turned back to her. He ran the feather beneath his nose and sniffed, smelled the acrid scent of smoke, but also one of her. “Do your feathers really bring luck?” He ran the feather over his mouth. “I think I’ll have to make you shift back into a human. I want to play with the discarded feather. With you. See what excites you.”

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Already blood flowed hot and thick through his veins, swirled down his spine and tightened his gut, flooding his groin.

The window crashed open. Shrill cries screeched across the air.

He whirled, ready to face the enemy. But even as he threw up his own shield and tried to transport himself into the cage, he knew something was wrong.

He couldn’t…

His hands felt heavy.

What…

He only had a moment before birds, larger than the firebird, bulleted into the room, shrieks and cries filling the air.

“No!” Again, he tried to shield with a binding curse, a blocking spell, but nothing happened.

The familiar tingle didn’t flow through his hands.

The birds all screeched around him.

From the cage, the firebird called long and sad, pleading, yet anger laced the sound.

Kladovik turned to look at her, holding the feather.

Wings flapped before him and he raised an arm to ward off the birds, but the talons still sank into his skin. He felt the bones of his arm break, felt the skin on his face rip, then pain pierced his eyes and he saw nothing.

He screamed.

His treasures.

Firebirds…luck…

Heat engulfed him, as the talons crushed his chest.

Then he felt nothing at all.

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Talons: Firebird

Chapter Thirteen

Reen stood in her shower, letting the water wash away the nightmare of the last several hours.

It could have been worse, she knew that. Knew it with every fiber of her being. But still evil chilled her blood, scraped her raw nerves.

Oleana and three other shifters were in the hospital. Oleana had been moved from Intensive Care to a regular room.

One, a cougar, had been released after a round of antibiotics. The other two, a lioness and lynx, were still unconscious. The lynx probably wouldn’t make it. They had no idea who those two women were.

She knew they’d matched and would continue to match the statues with missing women that went years back from all over the globe. The most recent being the gilded form a cheetah. Forensics matched the cat to a missing woman from Nairobi.

So many families would finally find peace, even as the hope was taken away. Families Kladovik ripped apart because he wanted more.

Because he was greedy.

Simply because he wanted and could and did.

She sat on the tiled floor, the tiles warm as the hot water beat down on her. Her arms were bruised, the wrists abraded and purple where they’d been bound. The bindings had popped when she shifted. As had the shoulder that she’d hurt on her previous assignment.

She was now officially on leave.

Water poured over her and dripped off her nose. She was tired. Tired of everything.

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And scared.

She didn’t want a commitment from or to anyone.

But damn if she wasn’t tired of being alone.

Alone.

Saker. He’d killed Kladovik, simply came through the window, ripped the man’s eyes out and then crushed him with his talons. Wicked talons.

She couldn’t push it all aside anymore. Everything seemed to shut down with the blackness of death and violence.

Blood…

The room had been filled with the scent of blood, with the scent of fire.

Kladovik had been right. She hadn’t had the energy to shift back. The power to shift had drained her. She remembered seeing the body drop, seeing the flames getting closer to the body. Saker had shifted from a falcon to himself and grabbed the small golden feather from Kladovik’s bloody hand. “That’s mine.”

That’s mine…

She remembered that. Vaguely remembered her body being lifted, the cold air rushing against her face and body as if she’d been flown through the air.

Like she had as a child.

But this time, he’d come. This time, it had been him.

What did it mean? She had no idea and she was too tired to think about it all. She just wanted some sleep.

One thing that wouldn’t leave her alone. For just a moment, just a second after they’d mated, and again when he’d carried her through the air, before she’d lost consciousness—she’d felt peace like she hadn’t since that fateful day long ago.

Peace…

Hope.

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He slipped through her door, surprised and pissed it was so easy to get to her. He’d stationed one of his men below on the stairs, another on the roof. No one was getting to her tonight.

No one, but him.

He could hear the shower running.

For a moment, he stopped.

Her apartment was a reflection of the woman. The furniture was simple and functional. Nothing flashy or expensive. The electronic surveillance equipment on the table was top of the line. The walls were bare. No television. He rounded the corner.

The wooden floors echoed faintly with his steps.

Her room was as neat and tidy as a long standing member of the military. Her bed covers tight and tucked.

He grinned and wondered if she was ever relaxed, ever messy?

Her closet door was shut, all the drawers of her chest closed.

There didn’t seem to be a single line of dust anywhere.

He wanted to learn more about her. Learn who she was. Learn what she liked and didn’t.

Saker cursed himself for his own stupidity, but the past couldn’t be changed. He had no idea what the hell the future would hold for them, but he wanted to find out.

Saker stripped and silently let himself into the bathroom.

Steam rose around the door of the shower, filled the top of the room and fogged the mirror.

He stood just outside the door for a moment.

“Reen?”

A huddled form on the floor shifted, stood and whirled, kicking out the door.

He barely sidestepped it before it crashed into him. Instead he caught it and stood staring at her as she glared at him.

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Her black, chin length hair was plastered to her face. Her body was wet and glistening, the scars and bruises standing out on her pale skin.

He slowly raised his gaze to lock with hers, taking in every wet and dripping inch of her.

She didn’t relax her stance. “I didn’t invite you here.” Her voice was low, throaty…tired.

He simply stepped in, crowded her back and shut the door behind him. Looking down at her, he brushed wet strands of hair behind her ears. “No, you didn’t,” he whispered.

She licked her lips and he caught the darkness shift in her eyes.

“What?” he asked, tilting her chin up. “Tell me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t care what you think of me,” she muttered.

He raised a brow and leaned into her. “I’ve watched you for months, Cyzarine. Since that first assignment we were on together. You didn’t even notice me. But I sure as hell noticed you.”

She drew a deep breath even as she leaned back against the wall.

He ran a thumb back and forth over her lip, then down her chin. He followed her neck to trail a finger over her collar bone. “I’m sorry about the stage,” he said, risking a glance back up into her eyes.

She watched him. “Are you?”

He trailed a path lower to circle her wet breasts. “The way it happened, the timing, yes.” He looked back into her eyes. “But we would have made love sooner or later.”

“That was sooner?” she asked, shifting closer to him, wrapping her arm around his neck.

Her tongue was hot against his neck. She pulled his earlobe between her teeth and he shivered.

He gripped her hips. “This is later. And I want to go slow…”

He hissed when her other hand reached between them and wrapped around his arousal.

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“I don’t want to go slow now. Slow is for later.”

He turned and met her mouth. “I thought this was later.”

Her lips tilted up. “That’s for later later. This is for now later. I want hard, hot and fast. Like before.”

She wrapped a leg around his waist. “I still hear him in my head, still see him.” She kissed him, open mouthed and demanding. “Make me forget. On the stage, all I felt, all I saw, all I heard was you.”

“You’re mine,” he said, lifting her. She shifted, slid down on him and locked her ankles in the small of his back.

Saker hissed.

She didn’t answer him. He wondered if she ever would.

Her eyes locked with his and in them he saw…

Hope.

He rocked against her, slow and long. She might want it now, but they’d damn well do it his way.

“I’m going to make love to you over and over again, Cyzarine,” he told her, holding her on him so she couldn’t shift. “All you’ll see,” he said, thrusting into her, “will be me.” Thrust. “All you’ll hear will be my voice.”

Thrust. “All you’ll feel is me.”

She arched against him and moaned. “Saker.”

He smiled as he lowered his mouth to hers. “You’re mine whether you claim it or not.”

He stared into her eyes.

“We’ll see.”

Damn stubborn woman.

The future with her wouldn’t be dull, that was for sure.

He thrust home, playing her until they both flew, their orgasm ripping cries from both of them.

At least there was hope.

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About the Author

To learn more about Jaycee Clark, please visit www.jayceeclark.com.

Send an email to Jaycee at jaycee@jayceeclark.com or join her Yahoo!

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Look for these titles

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Angel Eyes by Jaycee Clark

TALONS

A collection of five stories taking you to the height of passion Talons: Kiss Me Deadly

© 2006 Shannon Stacey

Death is a collective—an unkindness of supernatural ravens with the power to take the form of men and to decide which humans live and which humans die with a mere touch.

When Khail lays his fatal touch on his next victim and she doesn’t die, he’s faced with a human immune to his deadly power who has seen him shift form—and he’s able to have physical contact with a woman for the first time in centuries.

Falling for a shapeshifting messenger of Death wasn’t on Bridget Sawyer’s agenda, but things are about to get even more complicated. The Unkind is determined to claim her.

Talons: King of Prey

© 2006 Mandy M. Roth

In a place where realms combine and portals open passages to the unknown, a prophecy speaks of fertility being restored to his people through the taking of King Kabril’s mate.

The prophecy neglects to mention she lacks something vital to his kind—wings. Kabril, King of the Buteos Regalis has no interest in taking a human mate. His kind believes humans are dirty, vile creatures who rely on machines to lift them into the air. The last place he wants to go in search of his mate is Earth, but he’s left no choice.

Never did he expect to find love on a planet with one moon, people who lack wings and a stubborn vixen who makes his heart soar. When he does, he fears the truth about who and what he truly is will steal it away. Little does he know his enemies fully intend on doing the taking.

Talons: Caged Desire

© 2006 Sydney Somers

He’s trapped…she’s suspicious—to earn his freedom all he has to do is win her trust.

Locked in a cage for almost fifty years ago, Logan has had nothing but time to plot his revenge on those who wrongfully condemned him to spend eternity in the deepest regions of a South American rainforest. But with one look at the alluring vampire who holds his freedom in her hands, revenge becomes the farthest thing from his mind.

Eve Blake is puzzled by the wooden crate delivered to her door. Even stranger is the large golden eagle inside. It doesn’t take her long to realize the majestic creature is far more than he appears. Finding a man in the cage previously containing the feathered animal gives Eve every reason to suspect the shifter was locked away for a reason.

Can she trust him when he promises not to harm her if she releases him? Or will her decision cost both of them more than they bargained for?

Talons: Seize the Hunter

© 2006 Michelle M Pillow

Fate is giving her the one man she'd never want for her very own.

Princess Ari of the planet Falconia knows it’s her time to marry and has picked out several suitable men in her mind—none of which are Falcoan Army Commander, Rurik of the Fifth. The man tormented her as a child, causing her untold humiliations. But there is really no need to worry about such a match. Shifters cannot rule and Rurik is a natural born falcon shifter.

Trusting destiny, Ari sips from the Marriage Chalice, sealing her future. But things don’t go as planned. It would seem fate is giving her to the man she despises. How can she find happiness with the one man she could never want for her very own?

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

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Fantasy

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Red Hots!

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Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen