Storm's Heart (Elder Races #2)(14)

A traitorous part of her longed to run back to the only safe haven she had known for centuries, and it wouldn’t stop whining. See, even she thought running back to New York was weak.

She supposed she had been happy there, or at least she had been happy enough. She’d had an adopted family of sorts. They had kept the threat level contained so that she had come to know a measure of contentment, if not peace. Living her life as she had in the confinement of bodyguards and under the constant expectation of attack, she hadn’t ever really felt free; but many people lived their lives under the constant threat of war, and they were far more constricted by poverty and a lack of opportunity than what she had enjoyed. If she hadn’t appreciated the constrictions on her life, still she had known how blessed she had been to have the resources, both in friends and finances, to more than adequately meet her needs and to indulge in a serious shoe addiction.

But no matter how much she might want to go back to New York and hide in the safety of her former life, she couldn’t bring that kind of political tension down on the Wyr, not after they had opened their hearts so generously to her for so long. Dragos had enough on his plate as it was. He was adjusting to having a new, pregnant mate while at the same time contending with the fallout from his trespass into the Elven demesne, along with the potential political repercussions from Urien’s death.

She knew what she had to do. She had to suck it up and go back to the Regent and get on with her sucky life, for however long it lasted. Why was she driving in circles? She couldn’t believe she was being such a flake about this. She hadn’t realized she was so messed up. Her breath shook and her vision blurred. She scrubbed at her eyes.

She came to a halt at a four-way stop sign. She hadn’t felt up to facing the challenge of the strange fast-paced highway that cut past their second motel, so she had turned instead into a residential area. Modest houses with well-kept shrubbery dotted tree-lined streets that were ribboned with pale strips of sidewalk. Most of the houses were dark and quiet.

She adored neighborhoods like this. They were so exotic. Whole families lived in these houses. The parents went to work, and the children climbed into yellow buses and went to school. They shared suppers together as loads of laundry wrinkled in clothes dryers. (Imagine washing your own laundry. What fun!)

Sometimes at Christmas she would slip into neighborhoods just like this one. She would walk along the streets and peer into windows at family and holiday gatherings, and marvel at the shiny gold, crimson and green decorated trees covered with tinsel and twinkling colored lights, while she wondered what it must be like to experience the beauty of such an ordinary, unattainable life.

The light rain from earlier in the evening had grown heavier. She looked over the readings on the dashboard of the SUV as she searched for the windshield wiper switch. Wow, this was a really nice SUV. A hybrid. She only understood half of what the dashboard told her. The clock read 3:32 A.M.

By now Tiago was hot on her trail and breathing fire. She could practically feel him coming up behind her. The tiny hairs at the back of her neck rose. The air felt charged, full of static.

Hey, maybe she should stop to get some breakfast. If she was already in a restaurant, he couldn’t yell at her so much, could he? Besides, it would be rude if she showed up at the Regent before dawn with a furious Wyr sentinel in tow. She would wake people up and cause a ruckus.

She accelerated when it was her turn and looked for a driveway that she could use to turn the SUV around. She remembered seeing an IHOP restaurant about a half a mile back. Gorging on pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream might make her feel better and solve all her problems. Okay, so that seemed like it was a long shot, but she was willing to give it a try.

A violent wind rose from one block to the next. It whipped through the surrounding trees. Lightning speared the air. White light burned a jagged path across her retinas as it struck a tree. The accompanying thunderclap was like the explosion of a roadside bomb. The concussion assaulted her eardrums and shook the body of the vehicle. She startled so badly she almost lost control of the SUV.

Then not twenty yards in front of her a gigantic bird of prey with a thirty-foot wingspan plummeted down. For one split second he was caught full in the headlights of the SUV, enormous wings splayed high in the air and razorlike sword-long talons outstretched. He was shaped like a golden eagle, but his color was a dark sooty black.

Lightning flashed in those great fierce eyes. Thunder roared as he changed in midair and landed as a massive hawk-faced man in black fatigues and combat boots. He strode toward her, rage carving his body into a hard-edged weapon.

She shrieked and slammed on the brakes. She hit them too hard and the vehicle went into a skid. Tiago leaped forward. His hands slammed like twin sledgehammers into the edge of the hood.

He stopped the SUV dead.

She sat frozen as she stared at him, her mouth open. The fancy hybrid engine bawled a complaint and stalled.

Tiago came around to the driver’s side and yanked the door open. He gripped the edge of the roof with both hands and glared at her. He was already soaked. She watched with eyes gone huge and round as a drop of water slid down one lean, hard cheek where a muscle twitched.

The knife wound had hurt too much for her to put on the seat belt. Wincing, she swiveled with care to face him. The rain pelted her bare legs and arms.

Maybe it was time to get cute. Her lower lip stuck out and her forehead wrinkled. In a small uncertain voice, she said, “Sowwy?”