Rise of the Gryphon (Belador #4)(53)

“No, this time the short fuse was my fault as much as the bone’s.”

Lifting her eyebrows at that, she asked, “Is the Volonte affecting you, too?”

Storm gave a harsh chuckle. “No, sweetheart. You’re affecting me.”

“If you don’t want to get your head bitten off, then just stay away from me.”

“That isn’t going to happen.” He reached over and touched her chin with his fingers. Warmth flooded his eyes. “You piss me off more than anyone else is capable of—”

“Careful or I’ll get all tingly,” she muttered.

“—but that’s not what has my animal on the edge of ripping out of my body every time I’m around you.” His eyes took on an unholy gleam of hunger. He leaned in close. “I’m out of my mind, wanting you so much it hurts, and my jaguar wants to be uncaged to release what I keep holding inside.”

“Oh.” What could she say to that?

He sighed and took another breath. “I’m not going to touch you until that armband is gone, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to feel your skin under my hands and to bury myself so deep inside you we turn into one. I want to taste every inch of you.”

Her breasts puckered again in total agreement with everything he was saying.

She grasped his hand, pulling it to her lips, then she kissed his palm and looked up to find a firestorm building in his eyes. She whispered, “I told you, the minute this bone is gone, it’s on. We’re on.”

He kissed her forehead. “Damn right.”

Smiling, she stepped back. “Tzader needs help now with this infection problem, and I hear you on the beast championship. Just give me some time to figure out what I need to do, okay?”

“I’ll have my SUV warded against the sun. You have to leave no later than four tomorrow to reach Cumberland Island in time for me to register to fight. Until then, I’ll get in contact with Tzader and help him find as many Langaus as I can before we leave.”

To avoid getting into that conversation with him again, she shifted the topic a little. “I have yet to find out exactly how to get from St. Marys to Cumberland Island.”

“Like Imogenia said, private boats. The host will have one specific dock where boats owned by locals capable of ferrying our kind over there will port in. Those captains will know where the drop point is for sponsors and fighters, and they’ll have instructions on how to reach the championship site. That keeps unwanted guests, like VIPER, from showing up.”

“Where’d you find out all that?”

Storm just smiled. “This is not my first beast rodeo.”

“You’re not going to tell me where to find the boat dock, are you?”

“I don’t have that yet, but worst case I’ll be able to locate it by tracking the others. So just remember that you do need me all the way on this.” Then he asked, “Where will you be until I pick you up?”

Another question that could trip her up.

Evalle hoped he wouldn’t press for more when she tossed her head at the SUV and said, “My life as a babysitter. The things I do for friends. I need to go feed her and check on Feenix.”

“What are you going to do about her for tomorrow?”

“I’m working on that. Thanks for helping Tzader.”

“You’re welcome.” He pulled her to him and kissed her one more time with enough heat to make her want to chew her arm off to get rid of the armband. When Storm lifted his head, intense dark eyes pinned her. “I’ll see you at four. Be. There.”

“I liked you better when you weren’t so arrogant and demanding.”

Storm’s lips curved up on one side. “No, you didn’t.”

He kissed her once more and strolled away, disappearing into the stairwell.

She’d be halfway to St. Marys by the time the clock struck four tomorrow afternoon and inside the Achilles Beast Championship before Storm could catch up to her on Cumberland Island.

Would that kiss be their last?





SEVENTEEN





Where was Grady? Evalle made another hike around Grady Hospital in downtown Atlanta, searching in every direction for the old ghoul, who could normally be found here at midnight. She refused to believe he’d shaken hands with a Langau.

It wasn’t as though he would die. He was already dead. But she didn’t want him caught in some torturous half state. She slowed along the quiet back street that separated the hospital from the interstate humming with light traffic.

“When’d you start playin’ Secret Service agent and drivin’ big black SUVs?” The deep voice boomed so close behind her that she flinched, then whipped around. Cool air brushing her skin dropped another ten degrees with the presence of her favorite pain-in-the-butt Nightstalker.

Grady’s translucent form almost took shape, faded, then came back as a thin old man with skin the color of brewed coffee. A week’s growth of whiskers stubbled his bony jaw that generally had a stubborn kick to it. He wore his usual red-and-black plaid shirt, short sleeves regardless of the season, and loose pants that might have been his Sunday best at one time.

Ghouls didn’t suffer wardrobe dilemmas.

She cocked her head at him. “Where’ve you been hiding, you old goat?”