Gryphons Quest (9 page)

She caressed his arms and shoulders, slowly learning his body and watching for his reaction. Soon he was unclothed as well, falling into the softness of the moonlit bed and pulling her with him. She reveled in the feeling of power as he moaned. Her hands stroked the outside of his hips, then made soft sweeping circles inward. His head dropped back, and his chest heaved with gasping breaths.

Her long, graceful fingers closed around him, and a million nerve endings screamed at once. "I'm lost to you, lass. So lost..."

Thousands of lonely days and nights had burned themselves into Gryph's memory. For this one night, he wouldn't be alone. In his arms, he held the golden warmth of the sun and a silver-eyed memory to keep. He plunged his hands into her hair, kissed her until she moaned. The small sound was so inviting, he feared he might hurt her with his uncontrolled passion. He wished for more experience in the art of making slow, tender love instead of joining in quick lust. So, he watched her face, learning from her expression and her soft, breathless sighs what she wanted. Needed.

"Easy, little one, we've all night and I don't want to hurt you," he whispered into her shoulder. Loving the way she touched him, stroked him, he almost lost the very power to breathe.

"You won't hurt me, Gryph," she whispered as she kissed his neck and jaw line, "I know you won't. It's like you said. I know it in my heart."

He pulled her body even closer to his, wanting every inch of them to touch. He lowered his head to taste her breasts and stroked her thighs open with his palms. One of Heather's hands dug into his shoulder while the other brushed the rapidly healing injury to his left hip. The feel of her hands on him was almost more than he could stand. The evidence of his full and uncontrolled arousal lay throbbing expectantly against her abdomen. She reached between them and gently cupped his swollen member.

Gryph growled in pleasure. He felt her rotate her small, firm hips against him, telling him she was ready.

He wasted no time maneuvering over her. His fingers tested and parted the delicate folds of her woman's flesh before he entered. Heather cried out in satisfaction at his thrusting finger. He stroked her and let his fingers enter her over and over, until her soft moans became louder. She was so close to finding release.

Gryph quickly pulled his fingers away and replaced them with his erection. He pushed partially into her and stopped, trying to control himself.

"Please," she begged, "Gryph, now."

He plunged forward in one long, straight thrust and thought he would die with the pleasure of sheathing himself within her. His own cry of deep pleasure joined hers. Soon, they were moving together as one.

She leaned back into his arms, letting his mouth caress every inch of her within reach.

"One long memory to take into the night, lass. One sweet..." he lost his voice as he felt himself losing all control.

Heather felt her climax nearing, then it burst upon her with the brilliance of a comet. Her cry brought Gryph to his own release, and she heard him roar out her name over and over. He pulsed within her, and her second climax followed the first. She heard his voice encouraging her from a distant, starry world.

Coming back to reality took a long time. But he was there, holding her, stroking her back and calling her name. How could she have ever imagined being frightened of this sweet, gentle warrior? She lifted one of his hands from her breast and kissed his palm.

He stroked a tear away and buried his head in her shoulder so his own would not come. She held him close, rocking him, stroking his hair. What fools they were. What a memory they would have. If he survived this quest, he would be far away in Ireland or wherever the Sorceress chose to send him next.

This woman would be here, and he would love her for touching his soul as no one ever would. She was so precious to him. Brave and intelligent. The little fool had even stood up to Shayla. If she only knew...if only...

Gryph cuddled her against him. They caressed each other, finding no words to speak, sensing the profound depth of emotion in one other. Finally, he found his voice. "Heather..."

"Don't, Gryph. Don't say anything," she told him as she placed her fingers over his lips.

He kissed her fingertips, then placed them on his chest, loving the feel of her touch. His hands stroked her silken flesh, and he wondered what it would feel like to take her on a windswept moor or in a sheltered forest glen. He mentally shook the images from his mind. Those things could never happen.

They were only fantasies he could carry with him. Heather ran her hands down his arms, stopping to examine the Celtic designs on his biceps.

"These are ancient markings. I never thought much of men wearing tattoos until I saw them on you.

They're beautiful. And they suit you."

"From the beginnings of our race, they've been present."

"But what about these? Why are they here?" she asked, playfully running her hand down his chest to the tattoos on his inner thighs.

Gryph was unable to answer, and his quick intake of breath made Heather continue to caress him there. No one had ever touched him as she did. Soon, they were making love again with all the passion born of desperation. They both knew their time was short.

In the early hours before dawn, Gryph awoke but didn't bother dressing. Heather was lying on her side, facing away from him. He allowed himself the luxury of watching her sleep and stroking her hair as it lay against her creamy back. She had been intoxicating. For all his life, he knew he'd remember each splendid moment with her. But the ugly reality was that she didn't even know who she'd chosen to lie with. He made sure the blanket was securely tucked around her before he left. He gathered his clothing, went to the balcony and looked up into the waning night sky. And, for the first time in ages, Gryphon O'Connor literally cursed who he was. He let himself shape shift. The strength of his wings effortlessly lifted him toward his temporary home, his parents and Shayla. He had to find the cursed stones, stop the beast, and leave New York. The unending days and cold nights at the abbey awaited him. Such was his fate. But the warmth of Heather's sweet heart would be his.

No one could ever take that away.

***

Dawn was soon approaching. Gwyneth paced the floor in panic. Shayla and James still slept, thankfully unaware of the fact that Gryph hadn't returned home the previous night. After his recent close call, Gwyneth feared that he'd gone alone to retrieve the remaining stones. Perhaps he'd fought the beast again and was hurt, or worse. She was almost ready to awaken James and the Sorceress when she heard the familiar beat of strong wings. Gwyn breathed a deep sigh of relief when she saw her son alight on the outside patio. Dawn was soon approaching. She ran to him as soon as he changed back to human form and dressed.

"Gryph!" She embraced him.

Relief was evident on her still lovely features. He let her enfold him, then pushed her gently away.

"Mother, you look like you're going to have a panic attack. What's wrong? You should be asleep."

"How can you ask me what's wrong after you left so angry, telling no one where you went?"

"I had to clear my mind." He looked away, not wanting to reveal anything.

Gwyneth cocked her head and studied him. "You're lying," she accused. "When you were very small, you'd sometimes lie, and I would always know. You have that same look about you now, and I haven't seen it in all these many years. Gryphon, what have you done?"

"Mother, I'm not a child. Must I explain away or justify everything I do? Do I ask you and Father to tell me where you are every hour of the day?" He sighed, shaking his thick mane off his shoulders.

"You've never been secretive before," his mother accused and looked at him with a deliberately piercing gaze.

"I'm tired, Mother." He turned toward the hallway. "Tonight, I intend to take back what we came here for. I'll find a way to stop the demon, and then we can leave. First, I need to get some rest." Sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. All he really wanted was more time alone with memories of Heather.

Time to imagine her waking up, imagine he was with her. Holding her so very close.

He tried to move past Gwyneth, but she blocked his way by putting her hand upon his chest.

"You've been with that girl, haven't you?" she asked as her eyes searched his face.

Gryph didn't respond. He stoically stared over her shoulder. "If Shayla finds out, you'll die!" She began to shake and put her hands to her face.

"Mother," Gryph spoke calmly as he pulled her to him, "Heather doesn't know who I am or anything about the Order. My part in the pact doesn't dictate that I remain celibate. It was one night, that's all."

"Is that all it was, Son? Just one night? You won't ever be with that outsider again?" Gwyneth looked at him searchingly.

"Yes, that's all. Now go inside, Mother. You've worried all night for no good reason, and we both need to rest."

They went upstairs together. Gryph cursed himself for his earlier weakness. He should have left Heather alone. He could lie to others, and they might believe him. He could never lie to himself. What he'd shared with Heather was unlike anything he could ever imagine, unlike the meaningless trysts he'd had in the past. If he got the chance to be with her again, he'd have to take it. His better judgment was swept aside with the realization that she was all he'd ever wanted. Nothing else mattered without her. He couldn't go back to living his life the way he had. Far better to be dead than live in the emotionless prison he'd built for himself. The problem was, he feared his weakness would see her dead too.

NINE

When Heather awoke, she found herself cocooned in a warm blanket and knew Gryph was gone. She really hadn't expected him to be there, but was still disappointed. There wasn't anything to indicate he'd ever been present except the disappearing warmth of his body heat. And the soreness of her own body.

After a quick breakfast and repairing her injured face with makeup, she went to the police department to report Niall for assaulting her. Even though he was a homicide cop, Detective Dayton was the person she asked to see. She remembered he'd instructed her to come to him with any unusual happenings. She assumed that Niall hitting her qualified as unusual enough. He didn't quiz her much on why she hadn't come in immediately, but accepted her excuse that she was just too upset by the incident. And it was easier talking to a policemen she knew. Better him than some complete stranger.

"We have your statement, Ms. Green, but we'll need to take pictures of your injuries so we can prosecute," the detective told her.

"I understand. Just put the bastard away so he doesn't do this to someone else," she begged. She stayed at the police department for another hour, then went to work. The police called ahead so the security guard would meet her in the parking lot and escort her to the acquisitions department in case Niall was on the premises. She wasn't surprised to learn that he hadn't shown up for work. Cowards didn't take responsibility for their actions.

"I just don't believe this, Heather!" Professor McPherson shook his head. "Niall has always been rather full of himself.

But to deliberately attack another employee, to attack you. Well, it's unthinkable, that's all. Are you sure you're going to be well enough to work?"

"Yes, Professor. I'll be fine. Besides, what he did to me was nothing compared to what I did to him.

He'll be lucky if he walks right or fathers children."

After patting her on the shoulder, McPherson walked away, still shaking his head in apparent disbelief over the situation. Heather threw herself into her work so she wouldn't think about Gryph or the night they'd shared. The man was right. They didn't belong together. She tried not to think about who he really might be and the sinister nature of his actions. It was all too strange for her academic, logical mind to grasp. Still, she couldn't help wanting him. He was a combination of all of the men she had ever envisaged loving, strong and drop-dead gorgeous with the heart of a knight. There would never be anyone else like him. At least not for her.

***

It was almost quitting time when she found the second of the three rune stones. Apparently, whoever had taken the things had separated them, as Gryph had suggested they might, in an effort to keep them all from being found. She had picked up a Peruvian vase and was moving it to another room when she heard the distinct sound of a moderately heavy object move within its wide bottom. She put her hand inside the vase and pulled out the stone. A quick look around to see if anyone had noticed told her there was no one in the work area near enough to see around the assorted crates and boxes. She hastily placed the stone into her jacket pocket and continued to work, hoping the thief wouldn't notice its absence. Heather didn't want to believe it could be Professor McPherson. There were, after all, others who had gathered artifacts on his team. Any of them may have been motivated by the bribe of a private collector to illegally obtain rare antiquities. The museum had a longstanding reputation for properly locating and acquiring its collections. What would happen when that reputation crumbled? The reputable dealers of the world would have nothing to do with the museum, and the legitimacy of all of their current acquisitions would be questioned.

By the time she was ready to leave for the day, Heather was confused by what she should do. If she went to the police and gave them the stone, it would probably take forever to return it to its rightful place m Ireland. There was still no way of knowing who'd taken it.

She couldn't keep it. That would amount to stealing it herself. And she couldn't go to anyone at the museum without knowing who'd been involved. She might hand the stone right back to the very people who had taken it in the first place, endangering herself.

It only took her a few seconds to decide. Whatever else he was, Heather's instincts told her Gryph O'Connor wasn't lying about wanting to return the stolen items to their rightful places. He'd risked his life trying to recover them. His parents and that odd woman, Shayla, seemed to be seeking their safe return as well. Perhaps she could even save the museum's reputation by letting him take the things away before anyone discovered them and linked the rest of the shipments with other illegally obtained objects. Later, she might find a tactful way of returning things that hadn't been accepted into the museum's inventory. But if McPherson was involved in Ned's death, he needed to be punished. Her options were confusing, which added to the entire dilemma.

She let the security guard walk her as far as the end of the sidewalk then quickly continued to her car.

She was opening the door when a sound like a stick breaking made her look over her shoulder. There seemed to be nothing there and the knowledge that the security guard wasn't too far away calmed her.

Steady girl. Don't let Niall rattle you into jumping at every sound As she turned to leave, she saw a green light approaching her in the reflection of her driver's door mirror. The night Gryphon had been attacked there had been a green light coming from the upper stairwell levels toward them. He had almost died trying to fight off whatever had been there. Heather wasn't stupid. Whatever had been killing people had something to do with that light. Were it not for his physical strength, stubborn determination and that old woman's ointment, Gryph would be dead too. She wasn't waiting to find out what the light meant.

Heather jumped into the car, turned on the ignition and stepped on the gas. The exit out of the parking lot was only a few hundred yards away, and she would be going too fast for anything or anyone to catch her. At least that's what she thought. She had almost made it to the parking lot exit when some huge form suddenly leapt in front of the car. She instinctively slammed on the brakes, hoping to stop in time to keep from killing someone.

It was the wrong move. There in front of her stood a nightmare. A nude, man-like beast with glowing green eyes and grayish skin, it stood a full eight feet tall and had long talons at the ends of its massive hands. Horns like those of a bull protruded from its forehead, and fangs rivaling those of a tiger replaced what should have been incisors in its upper jaw. Long pale hair flowed like a river down its humped back and shoulders. The headlights on the car illuminated every feature of its naked male body. Heather was petrified. She couldn't move or scream. Nothing in her life had ever prepared her for the existence, much less attack, of such a creature. It threw back its gargoyle-like shoulders, shook its huge head and laughed deeply. Drool from its gruesome mouth spattered across the hood and windshield of her car.

"What's the matter, Heather? Playing hard to get again?" the demon spoke loudly as it glared at her.

"Oh my God..Niall." Heather whispered.

The beast quickly stalked around the car to the driver's side. She locked the door, but she knew he would get to her one way or another. When he saw what she'd done, he smiled sickeningly. Grayish foam dripped from his jaw.

"Locks won't keep us apart, bitch," Niall sneered. "You've got two things I want. One is the stone, the other is between your legs. Before the night is over, I'll have both."

Heather plunged the gas pedal to the floor, but Niall's strength was so great the car would only lurch forward, wheels spinning on the pavement. She clawed her way to the opposite door. There was a horrible sound of tearing metal as Niall neatly ripped the driver side door off the car frame. Like a can opener peeling the lid from a soup can. In an instant, she was out the passenger side door and running for her very life. She could hear him roar with rage and knew he would be upon her in seconds if she couldn't get to help quickly. She ran toward the park, toward an all-night diner on the other side. If she could get to a phone, to where there were people congregated, surely Niall wouldn't follow. It was her only chance.

She could hear heavy, fast footsteps coming from behind. Heather turned into a stand of trees and hoped the thick undergrowth beneath them would help hide her. She stopped behind the trunk of a large oak to catch her breath. She couldn't run forever. Though the night was cold, sweat poured from her body. It ran into her eyes and burned. She swiped at them with the back of one forearm.

"Come out, Heather," his deep voice crooned. "Maybe I'll decide to spare your sorry little life. If you please me, that is. I have the power of the ages at my fingertips. The stones have given me that power. I no longer need them to make the change, but possessing them keeps anyone else from obtaining their spell and stopping me. One of them is gone, but I'm sure you know where it is. Don't you, Heather? I want it back. Come out, and maybe I'll share the secrets of the stones with you. We could be invincible, have anything we desire. We could rule together."

The sound of his eerie voice made her skin crawl. It was like hearing him speak through an amplifier.

He was insane, and knowing he'd do worse than kill her, she stayed hidden. More than ever, she knew she had to get the stone in her pocket to Gryph. If what Niall said was true, no one must ever have any of them. Gryph had been right about everything. Her trust in him hadn't been misplaced.

"I said come out, you little whore. Your Irish friend isn't here to stop me now. I killed him just the way I killed that old fool in the museum, the same way I killed that harlot in the park. She was like you. Thought she was too good for me. Well, what do you think of me now, Heather?" he asked as his eyes began to glow green again. "I'm four times the size of any man. All of me. That should please even you. Little Miss Prude. Little Miss Tease!"

Heather thought she would vomit. Niall had killed Ned and the prostitute. He thought he'd killed Gryph. But she believed he wouldn't kill her until he could get back the stone Shayla now had. She didn't want to think about what he'd do to make her tell him where it was. Lowering her stance, she quietly crawled forward into some nearby shrubbery. Thorns, brambles and assorted vines tore into the soft skin of her lower arms and hands. She could hear him lumbering about, looking for her. And the glow from his eyes lit the bushes nearby. She heard him roar in anger when he couldn't find her and she wouldn't respond to his demands. She kept crawling forward. Her heart beat a drumming sound she was sure would give her away. Niall would grab her at any moment. Her mouth had gone dry, and she was shaking so hard it was difficult to move quietly.

When she neared a clearing about fifty yards wide, she knew she'd have to make the best run of her life. He'd see her in the waning light for sure. But the major street where the diner was situated lay beyond the trees, on the other side of that clearing. It was now or never, and Heather wasn't about to give up. It wasn't in her nature. If Niall wanted her, he was going to have to run hard to catch his prey.

She thanked God for the miles of jogging that had seemed such an ordeal.

Taking a deep breath, she bolted. Niall saw her and propelled his gargantuan form forward, but Heather had too much of a head start. She was into the stand of trees on the other side of the clearing and heading toward a row of park lamps. Several couples and some homeless people moved about beneath the lights. Heather kept running until she had crossed the street where the glass doors of the diner welcomed her like the entrance to a fortress. Panting, she navigated through the tables to the counter. No one seemed to notice. This is New York for you. She was bleeding from cuts, wore brambles in her hair and had been obviously running. But no one even questioned her.

"Is there a phone I could use?" she gasped out at the employee behind the counter.

"In the corner," he replied, without looking up from his newspaper.

Heather searched through her torn jeans pockets and found some change. She couldn't call the police.

They'd think she was crazy. She didn't have a phone number to call Gryph, so she picked up the remnant of a telephone book and looked up a taxi company. Ten minutes later, the cab pulled up outside the diner and Heather gave the driver the address to the house where Gryph and his parents were staying. As the car pulled away, she looked out the rear window. There was no sign of anyone or any thing on the street.

That wasn't surprising. Niall would never show himself in the form of that demon. He was insane, not stupid.

***

Twenty minutes passed before the cab pulled up in front of the house. The cab driver, like the employee at the diner, hadn't seemed to notice her appearance. The man seemed more intent on listening to the radio. Besides, he'd probably seen people in much worse condition. In the time the drive had taken, Heather had pulled what was left of her sense together, but the situation was catching up with her emotions. She pulled the money to pay the cab driver out of her pockets, ran to the front door and pounded on the heavy oak with her fists.

Gryph, barefoot, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, opened the door. Funny. That was the first thing that came to her mind. Aside from being as handsome as sin, he looked completely normal. He wore none of the strange, black leather clothing she'd previously seen, and he made none of his usually cryptic remarks. Just stood there staring.

Heather began to laugh. Her hands covered her face, and she fell to her knees in front of him. Her laughter turned hysterical. Gryph knelt and pulled her to him.

"What's happened?" he asked as he lifted her into his arms and closed the door with the heel of one foot. Her arms went about his neck, and she clung to him. Gryph took her into the living room, gently deposited her on the sofa and placed both of his hands on either side of her face.