Bound by Flame (26 page)

That tiny fragment of human awareness smelled smoke.

Saw
smoke, curling toward him out of the darkness.

Nick-Gideon slammed his feet into earth and skidded to a stop just in time to keep from crushing Cynda.

She barreled at him screaming, eyes wide, red hair plastered to her head, big holes sizzled through her leathers, and her arms loaded full of…dishes?

Nick didn’t stop to wonder.

Every cell in his body nearly burst with relief.

He let her run right into his arms, scooped her up, and squeezed her to his chest hard enough to make her squeak.

When he said “Firebird,” the word echoed around them,
other
-style.

A tortured, untamed roar split the air before the sound of Nick’s voice died away. The sound boiled out of the darkness beyond them, from the direction Cynda had come.

She shuddered and turned her face into his neck.

Nick bared his teeth and clutched her even closer. He wanted to tear into whatever dared to threaten her, rip the being into little pieces and spit it all over New York City. But he had to get her out of here, out of the tunnel, out of danger
now
.

“Go,” she was saying. “Please!”

Whatever was in the darkness, it would die later. Nick would see to that himself when he didn’t have his arms full of the woman he loved.

He wheeled around, and took off toward the tunnel entrance, carrying Cynda against him. Her skin gave off layers of smoke, and Nick sensed her inner fire only inches from the surface of her body.

Thank God.

Through the haze of Cynda’s smoke, another golden glow approached, and Nick knew it was Creed, leading Cynda’s triad.

“Got her,” he yelled, Gideon increasing the force of his voice.

He heard incoherent shouts, and understood the blast of complete relief they had just experienced.

She’s still with us. She’s still ours. For once in my life, I saved my family—because Cynda
is
my family, as much as my grandmother and my brothers.

Nick pressed his lips into Cynda’s hair as he ran, and felt her lean into him, tighter to his chest, like she wanted to be right there, always, forever.

Deal.

Creed-
other
lumbered into view.

Nick caught his twin’s eye and knew Creed could understand him, even though his brother was in full
other
form. “Behind me,” he growled without slowing down.

Creed banged his fists one against the other, flexed his arms, and jetted off toward whatever had been hunting Cynda.

She struggled against Nick’s grip, tried to yell something over Nick’s shoulder to Creed about being careful, about leaving it alone—but Nick didn’t wait for her to finish. As Riana and Merilee reached him, he picked up his speed again, still more
other
than man, but he made sure to run slow enough that the Sibyls could keep pace. His golden glow lit the way, and Riana and Merilee flanked him, near his elbows.

When he glanced right and left at the women, he saw their solid, determined expressions. Total focus on the task at hand—getting Cynda out of the tunnel. They were as good as cops. Maybe better.

If it weren’t for Riana’s elemental earth talent and Merilee’s skill with wind, Cynda might not have survived, no matter how hard Nick had tried to save her. Nick couldn’t imagine the Sibyls leaving a man—well, woman—behind. They would fight as fiercely as any Marine, any parent or sibling, to reclaim one of their own.

In his arms, Cynda gripped whatever it was she had hauled out of the tunnel. She took slow, shallow breaths. Her muscles felt relaxed as he carried her, as if she trusted him completely. That only doubled Nick’s determination to keep a closer eye on her, to never let her down again.

He cursed himself a few more times for the lapse of attention that almost cost her life. Triad or not, he’d stay even closer from now on. More alert. This was one fire Sibyl who would survive the current nightmare.

If Nick could save every last one of them, he would.

But Cynda…if anything happened to
her
…

No fucking way.

A few minutes later, he saw the shaft of light that spilled from the fieldstone house into the tunnel’s entrance.

Finally!

All he wanted to do was get everyone out of this mess.

As they stopped running, Nick strained his senses to be sure nothing was close on their tails. Dirt walls stretched behind them into pitch blackness. He didn’t see anything, or sense anything, either. The space around them seemed silent except for the rasp of Nick’s breathing and the rapid, even gasps of the Sibyls.

For a split second, Nick imagined he could hear Cynda’s heart beating, and he loved the sound. He wanted to put his hand between her breasts and feel the rhythm in his fingertips, just to know for sure. To have proof she was really alive in his arms.

As it was, the tendrils of smoke rising from her elbows had to do.

He carried her forward, to the foot of the entrance, where he turned to Merilee.

“Can you handle both of us, then get you and Riana to the top?” he asked, his voice still
other
-deep and loud.

“Yes.” She raised her hands and closed her eyes. “Hold on to your nuts.”

Nick felt a swirl of air, a rush of elemental force. Then he heard Merilee’s wind, charging out of the darkness, rushing toward him like a barely contained tornado.

As Nick moved them into position, Cynda’s arms tightened around the dishes she was holding.

He crouched, bunched his leg muscles and sucked in a huge breath, waiting for Merilee’s signal.

Air howled and screeched in the tunnel. Earth and dust and grit swirled in every direction. Riana’s hair whipped forward.

A sucking sensation pulled at Nick, tried to yank his golden skin right off his bones, then abruptly turned loose. He caught the stinging smell of frost, cold air, and wet dirt.

“Oh, no,” Cynda groaned, squinching in his grasp like an accordion.

“Now!” Merilee yelled.

Nick jumped with all his strength, firing them upward toward the entrance, which seemed impossibly high over his head.

The frigid wind Merilee summoned slammed into Nick’s feet first, driving them higher, faster toward the light above. Surfing the blast as best he could, Nick held on to Cynda and aimed for the bright square slightly to his right.

When he thought the position was right, Nick leaned away from the air funnel and lunged into the closet. He took one step, two, and staggered into the center room as Merilee’s burst of wind smacked the ceiling, spread out, and dissipated, blowing bits of plaster as it went.

His
other
-enhanced senses registered the deadly soft rustle of sixteen handguns being raised and aimed directly at his head. Gideon gave a mighty twitch in his mind, and Nick had to count backward from twenty to keep the beast settled as he assessed the situation.

The remaining SWAT officers stood in two-ring formation, weapons trained above Cynda, more or less between Nick’s eyes. They were flanked by nine Sibyls, face masks and goggles in place. Three sets of daggers and knives were poised to find targets above his neck. Three swords blazed. Two short bows and one longbow had arrows nocked.

They didn’t know if he was friend or foe.

And Cynda wasn’t processing the situation fast enough to tell them. She still had her eyes shut, shivering from the cold, and swearing to herself over the ride up the tunnel shaft.

Nick counted backward again, repeated two mantras, and felt Gideon’s heat and glow ease to the background. His muscles strained and his joints popped as his body settled back into full human form.

Without clothes, of course.

Female OCU officers turned their heads as they holstered Glocks, SIGs, and Smith & Wesson nine-millimeter automatics.

The Sibyls didn’t turn their heads—though they did lower their weapons. A few of them checked him out and grinned.

“Where can I get me one of
those
?” asked the air Sibyl from the Jamaica Bay ranger triad as she slipped her arrow back into its quiver.

Another gout of wind gushed out of the tunnel. After a major thump and rattle and a few choice words, Riana stumbled to a stop beside Nick. Her teeth chattered for a few seconds before she was able to say, “Merilee’s waiting for Creed. If things get hairy, she’ll bring herself up.” She slid Nick’s holster from her belt and went to hand it to him. Her eyes swept from Cynda to Nick’s bare legs. “Oh, damn.”

She lowered the holster, then placed it carefully on the floor at his feet and straightened up again, keeping her eyes averted the whole time.

Nick managed to say, “Thanks.”

His throat felt dry, and his face was warmer than usual.

“Let me guess,” Cynda muttered, finally opening her green eyes and gazing into his face. “You’re naked.”

With her looking at him like that, the cold didn’t bother Nick at all. He didn’t want to put her down, ever. As long as she was in his arms, nothing could snatch her away from him, or do her any harm.

He could tell she was thinking about dropping her dishes and running her hands over his chest. Maybe other places, too. With the adrenaline still pumping through his system, it was all Nick could do not to get an erection in front of their audience.

“I have extra pants in the car,” he said in low tones, wishing he could yank Cynda to his mouth and kiss her hard and long and slow. “At least I don’t have dishes.”

“Nobody thinks my dishes are sexy,” Cynda fired back.

Nick felt heat along his thighs and caught a whiff of melting hair. He resisted an urge to cross one leg over the other to give his jewels a little protection. “Uh, could you not do that?”

“I’ll think about it,” Cynda grumbled, and laid her head on his shoulder.

Riana glanced back toward the tunnel as the SWAT team left formation and once more began to deploy out of the house, leaving behind three officers—male—who would take watch over the tunnel entrance when Nick gave them the word. They stood off by the hallway door, waiting. The Sibyls backed off, too, though a few of them kept finding reasons to give him another look. Nick figured they wouldn’t leave the house until Merilee was back in one piece.

“Do you think—” Riana began, her voice trembling.

“Creed’s fine.” Nick turned Cynda and himself, facing away from all the prying eyes. “He’ll be back in a few. Hopefully with a demon head in his teeth.”

“That’s not funny.” Cynda went stiff in his arms and pushed against him with her shoulder so hard she forced him to set her and her dishes down next to him. When her feet were solidly on the floor, he saw that her face had gone pale under her freckles. She was still shivering, but Nick could tell more than the cold was bothering her.

He started to ask her what was going on, but she glanced over her shoulder at the lingering Sibyl triads, then back at him with a not-now expression. Smoke curled off the back of her neck, and out of the holes in her leather jumpsuit.

This has something to do with Jake.
Nick folded his arms. Screw the fact he was naked.

As much as he wanted to protect his brother, Jake had stepped too far over the line today. Forced, not forced, talisman or no, Nick wasn’t sure he cared anymore. The Astaroth was too dangerous, and Jake had almost taken all the light and life out of Nick’s world.

Unless the demon had a damned good reason, or Cynda convinced Nick otherwise—which she would try to do, he was certain—the next time Jake crossed Nick’s path, it would be the last.

Wind shrieked up the tunnel shaft.

On reflex, Nick put his hands on Cynda’s waist and pulled her back with him.

A flash of gold light and blond hair, and Creed and Merilee emerged from the closet.

Despite his thinking to the contrary, Nick felt a moment’s relief that Creed wasn’t hauling Jake’s dead body with him.

This shit’s melting my mind
. He held back a frustrated sigh.

Merilee smoothed her blond hair and adjusted her leathers as Creed quickly shifted back to his human form, clothing intact.

How does he
do
that?

Creed gave Riana a kiss and gestured to the tunnel. “Didn’t find a thing. We can cancel the bot and get some crime-scene techs, but I’d send structural experts in there first to make sure it’s stable after all the earth shaking and tornados.”

“How about you take care of it?” Nick asked through his teeth, using his hands to give himself a little cover so Riana and Merilee wouldn’t have to keep looking at the ceiling.

Cynda didn’t bother to keep her eyes off him, which greatly tested Nick’s self-control.

“Oh. Yeah.” The corner of Creed’s mouth quirked. He started for the front of the house. “I’ll get your clothes from the car.”

“Why do you have an armload of dishes?” Merilee asked, gazing at Cynda, who let off a new round of smoke.

“We need to get these to HCQ. They’re—” Cynda glanced at the other Sibyl triads still within earshot, then her eyes settled on Nick. “They’re important, I think. I need time to study them, then we can send them to Ireland and Russia for a closer look.”

For a long moment, Nick got lost in the fact Cynda was standing beside him, alive, whole, and talking. The sound of her voice made him absurdly happy, even if half his colleagues and a slew of Sibyls now knew his exact measurements.

Riana and Merilee helped Cynda out, one taking the bowl from her arms, and the other seizing the cup with a gold wand inside it and a gold handle across the top. Cynda kept hold of what looked to be a stick with something silver on one end.

Creed jogged back in, carrying jeans and a T-shirt. He pitched them to Nick, who had to uncover himself to catch them.

Cynda’s eyes drifted down, then back to Nick’s face. She smiled. “You ready to go home,
big
man?”

He loved seeing the fire dancing in her eyes, her hair, along her hands and arms. That was better. That was Cynda.

Nick took his time putting on his jeans, all the while holding her gaze—and trying to figure a way to get himself Sibyl-mailed to Ireland along with those damned dishes.