The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance 2 (68 page)

“Now you understand why I sent you out of my life to protect you,
mon amour.
”

“Actually, I don’t. If I’m a target, you should have at least warned me.”

“They only found you because
you
drew attention to yourself.”

“Well forgive me for wanting a job and a life.” She turned her back on him, her heart pounding with indignation.

A rustling sound warned her he had climbed off the bed. His hand settled gently on her shoulder. “After I sent you away, the odds of you encountering another Son of Ra or of touching a
ben ben
were close to zero. Will you keep punishing me for a choice I made with the best of intentions?”

Tricia squeezed her eyes closed and let her head drop forward. Was she being childish and vindictive? Did she want to hurt him for a decision he’d made twenty-two years ago?

She rose and turned into his waiting arms. He eased her head against his shoulder. His warm hand splayed soothingly on the small of her back. “Remy knows the touch of my fire. He’ll confirm it doesn’t hurt.” His lips brushed her ear. His hand on her back pulled her closer; the evidence of his arousal pressed against her stomach. “Come back to bed with me,
mon amour.
We’ll discuss the claiming tomorrow.”

In the middle of the night, knocking intruded on Tricia’s sleep. Drowsy with the languor of sexual satiation she barely roused at the sound of Remy’s urgent words.

“I’ve been called to Egypt,” Christian whispered. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

But when Tricia woke the following day, Christian hadn’t returned.

She had warm croissants and hot chocolate for breakfast in the kitchen but didn’t ask Remy about Christian’s fire. She’d realized that men like Christian and the duke were unlikely to harm the rare women who carried their magic gene. She was more bothered about being tagged like a dog and losing her independence. Christian had spoken about the claiming as if the process was romantic, but the Duke of Buckland, for all his arrogance, might have been more honest. Once one of them claimed her, she would effectively become their property.

After breakfast, Tricia wandered the familiar path through the garden to the vineyards, meandering along the dusty trail between the neat rows of grape vines to the edge of the River Loire. Memories tumbled back of strolling hand-in-hand with Christian. Years ago, she’d thought love was the answer to everything.

She sat on a wooden bench under the trailing branches of a weeping willow where she had spent blissful afternoons with Christian and stared at the rippling water.

Two days ago, her main concern had been the cost of her mortgage. Now her home was probably a burnt-out shell containing the debris of her worldly possessions. Tears glazed her eyes and she blinked them away. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. When she returned to the chateau, she would make a list of everyone she needed to call to sort out the disaster her life had become.

A blast of chilly wind stirred goose bumps on her skin. Ten feet away a dark rent opened in the air and a man stepped out. She recoiled, then slithered off the side of the bench and crawled behind it.

The man’s intimidating blue gaze fixed on her, but she took a moment to identify him as the Duke of Buckland. Gone were the trappings of modern man; instead, he paced towards her clothed like an ancient warrior out of a fantasy film. Wide bands of gold bearing Egyptian symbols enclosed the bulging muscles of his biceps and his forearms. Gleaming plates of armour protected his torso, the breastplate decorated with a blue, jewel-studded image of the eye of Horus. His powerful thighs flexed beneath a short armoured skirt. In one hand, he held a wicked curved blade dripping blue fire, while in the other he held the sceptre that he’d used to melt the
ben ben
at the Institute of Art.

“Where’s Lefevre?” he demanded.

She cowered behind the bench, staring at him with a stunned sense of unreality.

He halted when he reached her. “The bloody fool hasn’t claimed you yet. He’s had his chance. Now you’re mine.”

He tossed the curved blade aside. A small rip parted in the air and swallowed the weapon. While she was staring at the spot where the blade had disappeared, his hand closed around her wrist and he pulled her to her feet.

Sense rushed back in a panicked burst of adrenaline. She yanked against his grip. “No. It’s my fault. I didn’t let him.”

“
You
shouldn’t have a choice.”

“I love him.”

The duke paused and his jaw tightened. His blue eyes narrowed on her face. For the first time she had the sense that he saw
her
rather than simply a woman with the right genes. His breath hissed out in a frustrated rush and he released her. “Love is not enough in our world. You’re in danger because he hasn’t done his duty by you.”

He stepped back and raised his arm. The curved blade reappeared in his hand.

“Tricia!” Christian’s worried shout came from between the rows of vines. A moment later, he ran up and pulled her into his arms.

“Claim her
now
, Lefevre. Then next time you’ll be able to find your woman before I can.”

“I didn’t want the claiming to be hurried like this,” Christian framed her face in his hands.

A blast of arctic air whistled around them, dragging at her skirt and hair.

“Merde.”
Christian pivoted to face the direction of the wind, pushing her behind him.

“Too late, you bloody fool,” the duke bit out with a scathing sideways glance.

Christian’s trousers and shirt melted to be replaced by garb similar to the duke’s. His biceps bunched beneath thick golden bands as he raised his arms. A curved blade and sceptre appeared in his hands.

Twenty feet away, a hole opened in the air sending the temperature plummeting. With a terrifying howl, a sinewy dog-shaped beast the size of a horse bounded out of the ether. The creature crouched, muscles tensed, claws raking the dirt. Saliva dripped from wickedly sharp canines as its lips drew back on a growl. Tricia’s teeth chattered and she stumbled back against the trunk of the willow tree.

“Anubis,” Christian whispered, his tone thick with disbelief.

Tricia pressed a hand over her mouth. She recognized the black jackal form of the Egyptian god from ancient drawings. But it couldn’t be real; it couldn’t be hunting her.

“Take her to safety and claim her now,” the duke barked.

“You won’t be able to tackle Anubis alone. Call the others,” Christian replied.

“One of them will take your woman.”

“No they bloody well won’t.”

The duke cut Christian an oblique look. “Your call, Lefevre. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The duke sketched a string of Egyptian hieroglyphs with the top of his sceptre, leaving a pattern of blue fire hanging in the air. He spoke a couple of sentences she didn’t understand and the symbols melted away.

Anubis sprang at her with a blood-curdling growl. Christian and the duke pointed their sceptres at the beast and streams of green and blue fire poured over its head. But the creature kept coming. Christian stepped back, shielding her with his body while the duke charged forwards and hacked at Anubis’ neck with his blade. An arc of dark blood splattered across the sunbaked earth between the rows of grapevines. The animal pulled back, flickers of blue fire sizzling in the wound.

Tricia huddled between the tree and Christian, wishing she was anywhere on Earth but there. Cold blasted her and other men appeared, four, five; she lost count. She retreated behind the tree and watched from behind the trunk while the riverbank became a battleground. Anubis was bloodied and weakened but he kept trying to reach her. The Sons of Ra surrounded the beast, striking it with their blades and blasting it with fire from their sceptres. Mingled with Christian’s green fire and the duke’s blue were flaming streams of gold, turquoise, red and purple.

Angry words ricocheted back and forth between the men as they fought. Although she couldn’t understand everything the men said, they were obviously angry with Christian.

She was wondering if she should make a dash for the chateau when she sensed the air behind become heavy and still. Warily, she turned her head and gasped.

Six

A tall Egyptian man stood a few yards away. His long black hair was tied back, framing the classic perfection of his bronzed features. Deep brown eyes outlined with black and turquoise narrowed on her. Gold glittered at his ears and jewels sparkled on every finger. A heavy gold torque set with turquoise and rubies glinted at his throat. He wasn’t dressed like the Sons of Ra, instead a midnight blue robe decorated with gold hieroglyphs hung from his broad shoulders, fastened with a sash around his narrow hips.

She rose, keeping her back to the tree trunk, acutely aware of the sounds of battle from the other side of the tree.

The weight of his gaze pressed against her like a physical force. Some primeval instinct warned her that this man was as dangerous as the slavering monster Christian and the other men were fighting.

The man’s nostrils flared. Deep, commanding words fell from his lips like the rumble of distant thunder. Her pulse raced and her breath shortened. But she couldn’t answer. She had no idea what he’d said.

She risked a glance around the tree and called out to Christian. He must have heard the note of panic in her voice because he broke away from the other men and ran towards her. She expected him to leap in front of her protectively as he had done before. Instead, the moment he saw the man, he went down on one knee.

“Down,” he whispered. “Kneel down.”

A few days earlier, she’d have refused. She had thought nobody deserved such veneration. Strange how the threat of death altered one’s beliefs. She crouched slowly and put one knee to the dry dirt, keeping the man in view through her lashes.

“Is he on our side?” she asked under her breath.

“Sometimes.”

The man spoke again in a voice that resonated with the rise and fall of civilizations.

Christian answered before interpreting for her. “He wants to know why we’re fighting Anubis.”

“Who is he?”

“Runihura, the destroyer of gods.”

“Never heard of him.” But with a name like that, she thought she should have.

“Think of him as a powerful, immortal policeman.” Christian shuffled closer to her while the other Sons of Ra joined them on their knees. Tricia glanced around anxiously but there was no sign of Anubis.

She turned back to find Runihura’s fathomless dark gaze on her. A warm wind stirred her hair and the scent of the desert swirled around her. He beckoned to her. At Christian’s nod of encouragement, she rose cautiously and stepped forward. The aura of power surrounding the Egyptian prickled her skin.

“You are the source of this conflict,” he proclaimed in his epic voice.

Great! Someone had burned down her home and tried to incinerate her; a giant dog that shouldn’t even exist had attacked her and this misogynistic immortal wanted to blame
her
.

“It’s not my fault if I have a gene that makes Anubis want to kill me.”

Runihura flicked a hand at her in a gesture that clearly said
women should be seen and not heard
. “Who claims this woman?” he demanded.

Christian rose. Tricia’s gaze jumped to the Duke of Buckland, tension gripping her throat. His eyes flicked up to her but he didn’t rise as she’d expected, instead he remained on his knee, the only movement his shoulders rising and falling as he caught his breath. Had the duke relinquished his claim to her because he knew she loved Christian? Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.

Her sigh of relief whispered over her lips a moment too soon. The golden-skinned Son of Ra with the red fire stepped up on her other side, his dark brown eyes glinting with golden flame. “I would have this woman for my family.”

Christian rounded on him. Suddenly the curved blade was back in his hand, spitting green sparks. “She belongs to me, Luca.”

He didn’t say, “I love her” or even “I need her”. This was all about staking his claim on something valuable. Feelings didn’t come into it. Certainly not her feelings.

“I don’t want to be claimed by any of you,” she snapped.

Runihura’s gaze drilled into her, dragging every scrap of her attention to him. Against her will, she took a stumbling step towards him, followed by another.

Her insides quivered as eddies of hot air raced around her. The sound of Christian’s shouts faded.

“Please . . .”
Don’t hurt me
. Words circled in her head but her mouth wouldn’t obey.

A ball of pure white fire flared in Runihura’s cupped palm. She tried to raise her arm to protect her face, but her muscles didn’t respond. He lifted his hand and dropped the fiery sphere on to the top of her head. Her pulse raced as a shroud of glittering white sparks cascaded over her and penetrated her skin.

Her rush of panic faded as the fire whispered through her with a silky caress. She swayed and her breath hissed out on a little moan of pleasure. On the edge of perception, she heard Christian’s angry shout and a scuffle. She didn’t remember closing her eyes, but when she opened them, the Duke of Buckland and a golden-haired Son of Ra were holding Christian down on his knees as he scowled up at Runihura.