On the Hunt
Page 26A few yards away, a small barn sat huddled against the roaring wind. The prairie grass was brown, the trees bare. She could smellspring on the wind, but it had yet to take hold of the land.
A man on horseback was on the opposite hill side, outlined against the starry night sky. The sword in his hand reflected moonlight as he sat there, still and silent. The horse beneath him quivered, as if sensing danger. She had no idea what he was doing out here in the cold when there was a safe, comfy cabin not far away.
She opened her mouth to shout at him to get inside, but nothing came out. Wherever she was, she had no body. She was simply a presence hovering in the night sky.
The man turned his head and the moonlight fell over his features.
Neal. The man standing in what looked like a scene from the long-dead past was the same man sitting next to her in the truck.
Viviana struggled to make sense of that, but like a dream, there was no logic to be found.
From the hill top to her right, she saw several low shapes slink forward. An eerie howl split the air, making the wind seem quiet in comparison. The horse stomped nervously for a moment before Neal spurred it forward.
The shapes rose up, solidifying into the form of those things that had attacked her earlier tonight. Neal charged them. The first sgath leaped into the air, lunging for Neal's throat. Instead, it was his blade that hit, and the monster flew past him in two spinning pieces.
Two more of the sgath attacked, and Neal cut down each one with the same competent efficiency. Never once did he do anything showy. Every movement was smooth and easy, with no wasted effort. The lethality of his grace stunned Viviana even after she'd seen it before.
Neal wiped his blade clean on the dead grass, remounted his horse, and rode away.
Below in the valley, the door to the cabin opened. An old, bent woman stood there for a moment, staring in confusion into the darkness. She never saw Neal or the threat he'd eliminated.
Viviana's vision wavered again, as another battle was shown to her. Then another, and another.
In each one, she saw signs of different eras, different times and places—none of which Neal was old enough to have lived in, and yet there he was. He fought off dark, terrifying monsters for people who didn't even realize he existed. He never once asked for thanks or praise for his deeds; he simply left when the job was done.
When the interior of the truck finally came back into focus, Viviana was exhausted. She felt like she'd been gone for years and was just now coming back home.
Neal was staring at her with the oddest look on his face. It was part sympathy and part pride, and she wondered if he was upset by what she'd seen.
"What was that?" she asked.
"The luceria shows us pieces of each other—things it thinks we need to know to help us grow closer and speed up the bonding process."
"What bonding process? You never said anything about that."
"It's how we connect. It's how you reach my power. The luceria makes that connection possible, but the amount of power that can flow between us is directly related to how much we trust each other."
"And those visions of you fighting monsters were supposed to make me trust you?"
"Did it work?"
"You did."
"How? Does your magic allow you to travel through time?"
"No. I've lived a long time." He smiled, and it made her insides quiver in response. "Just like those artifacts you like to collect."
"How long?"
"I've lost count. Four hundred fifty-something years now, I guess."
"You guess?"
He shrugged, drawing her attention to his bare shoulder. Even that small movement caused delicious muscles to ripple beneath his skin. "It stops mattering after a while, though I may start counting again if things with us go the way I hope."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you don't have to be alone anymore. You don't have to feel like you don't fit in. You're one of us now."
Viviana's insides iced over with worry. "What did you see?"
"You. Alone. All your life. You've always set yourself apart from other people because you knew you weren't like them."
Humiliation stiffened her spine. "You had no right prying into my past like that."
"Sorry, sweetheart. That's the way it works. You got to do the same with me."
"I don't like it."
He took her hand and flattened it against his bare chest. His skin was hot and tight over hard muscles. Streaming sparks flowed into her, making her dizzy.
"You like that," he said with complete confidence. "And I like not hurting anymore. Thank you."
"Don't get used to it. If this luceria lets you pry into my private life, it's coming off."
"Not until we find the gadget. You promised. Besides, by then I hope to change your mind."
"About what?"
"Taking it off." He leaned forward, a hot smile on his lips. "If I have my way, you'll never take it off again."
"I know. That's my fault, but I'll spell it out for you. You saved my life by putting on my luceria.
Before I met you, I was dying. The power inside me was killing me slowly. And now I'm fine. I've also seen inside you. I've seen how gentle and caring you are, how driven you can be. You are everything I've ever hoped for in a partner, and if I get half a chance, I'm not going to let you go. Ever."
"You need to stop right there. I don't even know you and you're talking about us being together?"
"In ways you have probably never imagined."
Her face heated, as did the rest of her. "I only said I'd help you find the artifact."
"I know. I'm counting on my powers of persuasion to change your mind."
She opened her mouth to ask him what kind of powers when a wave of something hot and delicious slid into her skin, emanating from the luceria. It floated down her body, making her grow languid and needy as it passed.
Neal speared his fingers through her hair and lowered his mouth to hers. He didn't touch her, but he was close enough that she could feel energy sparking between them.
"I'm playing dirty," he told her, "but I need you too much to let it stop me. We're meant to be together. The luceria knows it. I know it. So will you."
He kissed her then, and she didn't even think to try to stop him. His mouth felt too good on hers.
Too right. Her whole body quivered in excitement at his touch, and wherever his bare skin touched hers, heady streams of power raced into her, making her feel more whole and alive than she ever had before.
In this moment, she was swept away, ready and eager to go along with whatever insane plan he had. Let him think they were destined to be together. What did she care? As long as he kept had. Let him think they were destined to be together. What did she care? As long as he kept kissing her, he could be as crazy as he liked.
A deep howl cut through the cold December air.
Neal stiffened and pulled back with a caustic curse. "Fuck. My blood. They can smellit."
He moved to his side of the truck, leaving Viviana feeling cold and alone. She didn't like it. She wanted back that feeling he gave her—that sense of belonging, of being needed. It took every ounce of her will power to stay put rather than slide over the seat so she could cling to him.
She was not a needy woman. She did not cling.
He slammed the truck in gear and pulled back out onto the snowy road. "I'm sorry, sweetheart.
You're so damn sexy, you go to my head. I should have known better than to stay put after cutting myself."
Viviana cleared her throat and fastened her seat belt to give her head time to clear. "I'm not sexy. I never have been. I'm tidy. Neat."
He shot her a grin full of heated promise. "You won't be when I get done with you."
"No?" He didn't sound convinced. Or concerned.
"No. I don't know you."
"You will. Count on it."
Chapter Six
Neal told himself to back down. He was coming on way too strong. The connection the luceria had forged between them had already grown enough for him to sense Viviana's anxiety.
"You're quite full of yourself, aren't you?" she asked.
He bit his tongue to hold back a comment about how he'd rather she be the one full of him. That was way too crass for his sweet Viviana.
His.
Neal was already in trouble, already feeling way too possessive. She wasn't ready for that. Hell, for all he knew she never would be. He needed to calm the hell down before he screwed up his one chance to keep breathing.
"I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sorry." He guessed he was going to have to get used to saying those last two words a lot—assuming she stuck with him long enough to let it happen.
"Where are we going?"
"A safe house. I need to clean up." He looked down at his chest. The wound had already healed, but the blood was still there, drawing every Synestryn for miles, no doubt.
"You said they can smellyour blood."
"Yep. I need to wash it off ASAP."
There was a nervous lilt to her voice. "What about my blood? Can they smell that, too?"
"Absolutely."
"I cut myself earlier tonight. On the glass. That's why they came, isn't it?"
The thought of her being hurt made his stomach twist in a combination of anger and pain. "Let me see."
She ripped off a small bandage and held up her hand. A short, shallow cut crossed her palm—little more than a paper cut.
"Did it bleed?" ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">