The Mythean Arcana Box Set Page 6

“Your cat dinna know what it was?” He arched a brow.

  “I’d suggest that you not underestimate him.” She left it at that, knowing that the Chairman would handle the slight to his honor if he were so inclined. It was doubtful that he cared anyway, what with being a cat. “I was in the underground beneath New Town. Around Princess Park, specifically.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “The dead zone? You shouldn’t be there. Why did you go?”

  Mytheans rarely went to the dead zone unless they had an inclination to break the laws of both the mortal and the supernatural realms. She went there to hunt rogues or to steal the soul power of those she didn’t have to feel guilty taking it from, generally demons and other unsavory elements of their society. But Warren didn’t have to know that.

  ~~~

  Warren watched Esha, unable to look away. What was it about this American soulceress that got to him? She was all contrasts. Light and dark, soft and hard. An enigma as always, with her damn cat constantly at her heels.

  Her abilities intrigued him. She intrigued him, with her couldn’t-give-a-shite attitude, and the heaviness that occasionally crept into her amber eyes. He’d made a point to look for it on the rare occasions he saw her. What put the shadows in those haunting eyes?

  She was hell on his celibacy and peace of mind. Most things in life he could pack into neat boxes in his head so he could get a moment of peace. But Esha defied boxes. He did his damnedest to avoid her because of it. He’d been pretty successful, until now.

  It was one thing to change his route when he saw her from afar or to avoid places he knew she’d be. But standing right across from her, so close that he could breathe her soap-clean scent, made keeping his eyes off her an impossible task.

  She dragged a hand through her midnight hair, mussing the utilitarian ponytail she forced it into. “I went to the underground because I was hunting rogues. That’s what the university hired me to do, remember? But I felt something off. So we went to check it out.”

  Alone? With a house cat for company?

  The irritable animal hissed at him as if it sensed his thoughts. Esha had never been afraid of anything in the decade he’d known her. She wouldn’t have hesitated before heading into the underground. The woman had a shell as hard as granite and balked at nothing.

  “We looked around for a while, went through most of the tunnels on the north side, until we reached a huge chamber, the one located under the statue of Sir Walter Scott in the park. There was an enormous group of shadows. Fucking huge evil shadows. But there was no one, alive or dead, in the area. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Was that fear in her voice? Not possible. Not from what he knew of Esha. “What do you mean, evil shadows?”

  “Come on. Don’t give me that. You know what I can do.”

  He did. She could see the evil in people’s souls as shadows.

  What did she see in the blank space where his soul should be? He knew she could see the shadows of the evil that he’d committed. It made him wary as hell and was another of the reasons he avoided her. Although she didn’t care what anyone thought of her, he did. He’d worked hard to regain his honor. To do right in the world. He hadn’t yet succeeded and probably never would, but he didn’t know how to deal with the fact that she saw the truth of him. It made him itchy.

  “If there were no people—or ghosts—in the area, where did the shadows come from?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. That’s what is so freaky about this. It was huge and looked like you could walk into it and never walk out again.” She actually seemed shaken—there was fear in her wide, amber eyes.

  “Until we know what this threat is, I doona want you going back there,” he said.

  Esha sighed as she began to pace near the door. “Why not? You can’t see the shadows and neither can your guards.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  She laughed. “Seriously? Too dangerous for me?” She stretched out her arms.

  He scowled. But she had a point. For Mytheans, creatures of myth and legend, Esha was the thing that went bump in the night. She sucked the power out of other Mytheans and used it against them. She would be fine. He shouldn’t worry about her. And given that her kind had stolen his soul, he definitely shouldn’t be worrying about her. But he did. He just didn’t want to examine the whys of it.

  “Just stay away. I’ll do something about it, I promise,” he said. “But in the meantime, doona go back there.”

  The cat glared at him again. It had been slinking around the room, alternately turning from smoke to corporeal form, sniffing anything that came into its path.

  “Do something? What do you mean something? We have to address this immediately. I’m not joking when I say it’s really bad. The worst shadows I’ve ever seen.” Her eyes were bright, her face hard, her posture stiff. Her chest rose and fell with her heavy breaths and he struggled to keep his eyes on hers.

  “I’ll look into it. As soon as we have some information, I’ll tell you. But doona, under any circumstances, go back there alone. I will handle it.”

  He turned his back on her in dismissal, skirting the side of the desk and walking to the window. It was a dick move, but he had to get her out of here. He heard her huff, stalk across the floor, and slam the door behind her.

  Warren leaned over the desk, gripping the edge until it cut into his palms, and tried to drag calming breaths into his lungs. Damn it. He focused on his breathing, trying to forget the sight of her, the scent of her. How she made him feel.

  One of her kind had stolen his soul and made him a monster, had made him kill those he loved. He shouldn’t want her. He shouldn’t like her. He shouldn’t feel this way about her. He shouldn’t feel at all, not if he wanted to keep the demons of his past from howling until his mind cracked.

  He leaned back on his heels and slowly counted backward from one hundred. One by one, he carefully packed the demons back into their coffins and locked the lids. They’d break free eventually, but for now he had a measure of rigidly self-enforced control that in its own way led to peace. As long as he wasn’t around Esha, he could maintain this.

  When his breathing had steadied and his mind had calmed, he picked up the phone. “Lea, it’s Warren. I need a favor, if you could.”

  He explained what Esha had seen and asked if Lea could check the records for anything similar occurring in the past.

  When they hung up, he called four guardians and assigned them to guard duty on the chamber Esha had mentioned. They likely wouldn’t be able to see what she had seen since they lacked her power, but they could at least be there to protect her if she went back.

  Because if she got hurt, there’d be hell to pay.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The warrior beneath him arched her back, highlighting the curves and hollows that he was so desperate to touch, to taste. Firelight glinted off her pale skin.

  He groaned as he pressed the head of his cock to her sex. She was soft. Hot.

  “Now, Cadan.” Her voice hitched on his name, her eyes vacant with pleasure.

  “A moment, Boudica.” Though he ached to thrust into her trembling body, he wanted to savor this moment, to make it important. Tomorrow’s battle would seal their fates. This was the last time he’d make love to her.

  He bit off a groan as he felt her nails sink into his ass. Yes. He loved her aggression, but not now. Now was a time to be savored. A time for tenderness.

  She thrust her hips, desperately trying to take him inside her. As the heat of her entrance closed around the head of his cock, a groan was torn from his throat.

  His fingers dug into her supple hips as he attempted to hold her still, but her panting cries tore at his control. He swooped down and plunged his tongue between her lips, savoring the sweetness that was Boudica. She returned his kiss in a frenzy, writhing against him in a desperate attempt to coax him inside her.

  He leaned up and looked into her eyes. “Savor this, Boudica, for tomorrow we ride at dawn.”


  “Just fuck me, warrior.” Her voice was hard, the lust in her eyes replaced with determination. She jerked his head down to hers, delivering a punishing kiss meant to show him his place. He was used to such kisses, but he wouldn’t tolerate them tonight.

  He tore his head away and looked down at her. “Slow down.”

  She might be his commander in war, but not here. This wouldn’t be a race to the finish. He dragged his mouth down her neck, kissing her as she rolled her body beneath his.

  He met her eyes again. “I love you.”

  He’d never told her. In the year they’d trekked across Britain, engaging the Roman army at every opportunity, they’d grown closer with every battle won. His family was gone, as was hers. They’d make a new family.

  “Just fuck me.”

  Had she even heard him? He gazed down at the strongest, bravest woman he’d ever known. He’d followed her across the country, fighting for their homeland. She loved him back. She had to. After all they’d been through, she had to love him.

  “I love you.” He repeated it again.

  She stared up at him unblinkingly, undulating against him. “No, you don’t. It’s the horror of war that makes you think that. Put it from your mind and fuck me. I have no love to give. This—” She pulled him hard against her. “—is all that I have for you.”

  This is all? “Fine.”

  His lust was now fueled by rage and despair. He pulled back from her and flipped her over onto her hands and knees. She cried out as he drove into her, his cock plunging deep into her pussy.

  “Take me,” he rasped, knowing that he was almost too big for her, but that she liked it. She had never minded pain, on the battlefield or in bed. He wondered if she used it to drown out everything else.

  She moaned, arching her back to take him deeper. “Harder.”

  He obeyed, pounding into her as the sound of their flesh slapping together drove him to boiling. She always wanted it harder, faster. Always avoided the intimacy that he sought. He’d give her harder. He turned her over onto her back, pinning her hands above her head. She cried out as he thrust into her, her eyes rolling back at the force of his thrust.

  “You’re mine,” he growled. “Say it.”

  She shook her head.

  “Mine.”

  “I am no one’s. I am my own.” She cried out as her orgasm took her, causing her sheath to clench around him in spasms that rocked him to his core.

  He bellowed his despair as his orgasm shook him, spilling all his pleasure and pain into her.

  Cadan jerked awake in a cold sweat, ill with the sense of loss that always followed dreams of the past. But now the past had merged with the present and Boudica’s reincarnate waited for him.

  ~~~

  Diana’s eyes popped open in alarm. Who the hell was banging on the door at this hour? It was a Sunday, the only day she didn’t go into the office, preferring to work from home. So why was someone pounding on her door with a battering ram?

  Wait, where am I?

  Smooth sheets rustled under her palms. She glanced down at the red satin coverlet. She plucked at the shiny fabric. Oh right, I’m in Narnia.

  How had she ended up in this bed? Had that strange woman put something in her drink last night? She never should have drunk the tea. Stupid. But her head felt suspiciously clear and she’d had no dreams last night—she must have been drugged.

  The pounding on the door thudded even harder. “Diana.” The deep, commanding voice caused a shiver to run down her spine. Not the caveman. “Come on, lassie. I know you’re awake. I’m coming in.”

  She gasped, sitting up and pulling the covers up to her chest. Someone, hopefully her loopy and drugged self, had stripped her naked before bed. She never slept naked.

  “Um, a—a moment, please.” But she was so quiet that she almost couldn’t hear herself. Toughen up, Diana. You deal with beautiful, untrustworthy men all the time. Especially when you’re naked. Right.

  “Give me a minute,” she yelled.

  “You’ve got five minutes. It’s already ten in the morning. We’ve got to get started.”

  Get started with what? She could almost feel his impatience radiating through the door. She raised a hand to the mess of hair on her head. The rats had clearly started building a nest sometime last night and had been at it ever since. She hadn’t showered since the horrifying night of the first attack nearly two days ago.

  “You’re going to have to wait fifteen minutes,” she shouted, trying to keep the note of hysteria from her voice. She was a professor, for God’s sake. She should sound dignified. “I need to shower.”

  “You’ve got ten, then I’ll be in there with you.”

  There was no way she was winning this argument. She leapt out of bed.

  Her overnight bag sat on the chair near the door. She thought she’d lost it during the fight last night. Had someone gone back to get it? She shook her head. There was no time to figure that out now. She grabbed the bag and headed into the small bathroom located off the corner of the room.

  She speed-showered, then hopped out and rifled through her bag. Jeans and a loose, thin sweater were a few of the semi-appropriate things she’d brought, so she yanked them on. She should have taken more time to pack. Really, Di? While the monsters were hunting you?

  It hit her then, that actual monsters were chasing her, and she had to brace her hands on the sink and breathe deeply to keep her vision from going black at the edges. God, she was terrified out of her mind and losing control of her life. She’d spent her entire life trying to avoid conflict, first as a child when her father had made it an impossible task, and now because more often than not, it made her freeze up.

  She’d always been content to stay at home, reading instead of doing. Doing made her palms sweat. Doing was dangerous and it often involved breaking rules. She hated breaking rules. Her childhood had seen to that, and no matter how hard she tried to forget it all, she still instinctively trod the straight and narrow.

  But she was well off the straight and narrow now. The only way back was through that bathroom door.

  I can do this. Pull it together! She nodded at herself in the mirror, unable to help sneaking in a nervous and appraising glance at her clothes, and swept out of the bathroom just as Cadan walked in.

  The sight of him stopped her in her tracks. He stood near the doorway, his stance casual, but still as tall and broad as she remembered from the previous night. The man was huge.

  “Time’s up, lassie, we need to go.” His voice was deep, almost rough, and the Scottish brogue that shaped his words made a shiver run down her spine.

  He felt vaguely familiar, as he had last night. Her gaze roamed over him, searching for anything recognizable and coming up short. She didn’t know anyone with such tightly leashed discipline. From his board-straight posture and impeccable T-shirt and jeans to his dark, military-neat hair, everything about him spoke of self-control.

  She wrinkled her nose in suspicion; he looked too big and perfectly shaped to be from the real world. He should be on a billboard somewhere.

  The light of day didn’t make him look any safer than he had last night, though; her original assessment of dangerous held true even in these civilized surroundings. Perhaps because of these civilized surroundings. Actually, a billboard wasn’t the right place for him; he should be out on some battlefield in the Highlands, wearing a kilt and beheading an Englishman.

  She was probably giving him the third degree with her eyes and felt heat creep into her cheeks. “You’re here to help me figure out who I was?” she asked.

  “I’m here to keep the demons off your back while you figure out who you were.”

  “Do you know who I was, then?” Tension gripped her heart in an iron fist, squeezing until it felt like it couldn’t deliver blood to her starved extremities. This was even worse than nightmares. Her soul wasn’t her own.

  “Yes.” His voice gave away nothing.

  “Assuming that I believe you, can’t y
ou just tell me? This would all go a lot faster.” And she could finally figure out what these damn dreams meant.

  “Of course you believe us, lassie. You’re intelligent, what with the university job. Recent events—the tattoo, the appearance of demons—indicate that the world isn’t all you thought it to be. And nay, I canna tell you who you were.” End of story, the undercurrent of his voice said.

  “And why not? Precisely?”

  “Rules.”

  “If you are half as intelligent as you say I am, you’ll agree that rules is just another deflection of my question. Why can’t you tell me who I was?” The professor voice was the only one that would do in this circumstance.

  “Fine. I’ll explain. But the rules are important. They’re the only way we keep our society secret from the mortals. They need to be followed.” He gave her a hard look to make sure she understood.

  Diana was all too familiar with the consequences of not following rules, so she nodded.

  He nodded back and said, “Reincarnates usually experience a catalyzing event that returns their memories. The appearance of your tattoo was a small event that sent you to us, but you still haven’t experienced one that will allow you to understand who you were. I could tell you that you were Queen Victoria, but it wouldn’t do you a damn bit of good because you wouldn’t have her memories. You’d have no idea what your task is. It could even divert you from the proper path if you went chasing off after loose ends. You were reborn for a purpose, and for you to misinterpret that purpose would lead to dire consequences.”

  Dire consequences? As in, more dire than being attacked by monsters and kidnapped by a previously unheard-of magical organization?

  “Gather your things. I’ll meet you in the hall outside in two minutes.” He spun on his heel and walked out.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Cadan paced in the hall, clenching and unclenching his fists while he waited for Diana. They needed to get the hell out of here so that they could leave Edinburgh and her pursuers, yet the idea of being in close proximity to her had his heart sinking and his cock stirring.