Wicked Burn (Realm Enforcers #3)(52)

Wind whistled through her hair, tossing it around.

The air chilled her, even through her jeans and sweater. They had to be heading toward Iceland. An air pocket surrounded them, and they dropped several meters. She screamed and clutched the band around her.

“Sorry.” The voice was gravelly, kind of like a demon’s but raspier.

She dug her nails into what felt like tight leather over, well, arms. “What are you? I know you can speak.”

“Shh. I need to concentrate or we’ll end up diving for sharks.” Humor laced the deep voice this time, and his breath brushed her hair with warmth.

The truth hit her. Whatever had her had to be a shifter. Shifters were either feline, canine, or multi, although everyone thought multis had evolved into bears, if they ever existed in the first place. This had to be a multi-shifter. Some kind of weird bird? “Are you a dinosaur?”

He laughed then, and there was no doubt the voice was male. “God, no.”

“Bird?”

“Nope.”

The creature holding her had said “nope.” How bizarre. “Are you going to kill me?”

The bubble of humor surrounding her popped. “I am not.”

Fear clutched her throat. That made sense. If he wanted her dead, he could just drop her. “Is somebody else going to kill me?”

“We’ll talk about it when we land.”

Her stomach dropped. “The Coven Nine won’t allow this to happen.”

“The Coven Nine has no clue where you’re going.”

Neither did Nick. God, he’d be furious. She hadn’t gotten a chance to tell him about the baby. “Anybody threatens me and I’ll end them.”

Her captor chuckled. “Fair enough, Simone.”

There went the hopeful thought that he’d just kidnapped a random woman to take back to his lair. Or nest. Or whatever the hell he had. “Your name?” Maybe she could forge some sort of connection with the creature.

“Flynn.”

“So, not Desmond.” This was getting more and more confusing.

“Desmond sent me.”

An island dotted the sea below, but they flew right over it. “Who’s Desmond?”

“You’ll meet him soon enough.”

Another island, a fishing boat, a luxury cruiser, and then just open, gray sea. Dark, churning, and freezing. If he dropped her, she might not make it to safety without drowning, which actually could kill a witch.

The air grew misty and thick around them.

Simone sucked in air, trying to keep from screaming her head off. Her head spun, and adrenaline flowed way too strongly through her veins. She gagged.

“Whoa. No barfing.”

What kind of kidnapping, freaky creature used the word barf ? Simone swallowed down bile. Fear combined with morning sickness? Great. Just what she needed. “I’m fine.”

“We’re almost there. Don’t puke until we land,” he said.

“Where?” She couldn’t see through the mist.

They started to slowly descend, revealing the ocean below. Simone began to struggle. “There’s only water.”

“Wait for it.” He went lower, and suddenly, jagged cliffs began to appear, and then a monstrous island.

“What the hell?”

“Shielded and veiled.” The ground rushed up to meet them, and they landed on a massive breezeway made of something sparkly next to some sort of building set into the cliffs. As they landed, he shifted her in his grip, and ended up running on two legs with her in his arms until he came to a stop.

She gasped for air and glanced up into a male face. A normal male face with dark eyes, even darker hair, and symmetrical features. “Who are you?”

He gently set her on her feet, standing there buck-assed naked. “Flynn.”

“I know that.” She grasped his arms until her knees stopped shaking, looking down as the sparkly ground and trying not to vomit. The sparkles caught her eye. “Are those diamonds?”

“Of course.”

They walked on crushed diamonds set into marble tiles. She looked up and then pushed away from him. He seemed unconcerned by his nudity, and considering he was one long line of ripped muscle, she couldn’t quite blame him.

The sea crashed far below them across a marble balcony, while velvet curtains billowed out from several tall doorways. She edged toward the balcony to see a sheer drop with absolutely no handholds.

“The only way in or out is flying.” Flynn took a step back, obviously giving her some room. “Are you going to throw up?”

Her stomach still churned, but she shook her head. “No.” She pressed both hands on her hips and tried to center herself in case she needed to create fire. “Now, how about you tell me what the f*ck you are.”

A figure stepped out from the entrance. Tall and broad with sandy brown hair, blue eyes, and designer clothing. He tossed a towel to Flynn, who wrapped it loosely around his hips. “Simone. Welcome to Fire Island.”

She fought the urge to sidle closer to the now decent Flynn. “You must be Desmond.”

He smiled, flashing extremely white teeth. “Yes. So good to make your acquaintance.”

“Who are you people, and what do you want?” Her fingers itched with the desire to burn the hell out of them both.