Harlequin Nocturne March 2016 Box Set (29 page)

* * *

As always, Annie heard before she saw: a low murmur of voices, a rustling of feet against earth and a thrum of excitement like the muted power and hum of an ocean undertow.

And she was about to be dragged down into the strong current.

The closer to camp, the stronger the pull. At last the other hunters came into view, dark shadows with eyes that occasionally glowed like a cat's with refracted moonbeams. Those pinpricks of light focused on her and Tombi, but mostly her.

“How come your eyes don't glow like that?” she whispered.

“Those of us who are masters at containing our energy are able to suppress any sign that gives away our location.”

“There's more people tonight than the group I met earlier.”

“You only met my inner circle this morning.”

One of the shadows moved closer. “We wondered where you were,” said a low voice.

Annie recognized that voice. Hanan. Some people never forgot a face; but she never forgot a voice.

“So you brought her again.” His voice was flat, neutral as Switzerland, but Annie registered the dig.

Tombi's hand rested on her shoulder. Possessive, comforting. Her insides warmed from the contact.

“Annie might help us turn the tide against Nalusa.”

She silently berated herself. She was only important to him if she suited his purposes. Best to remember that.

Hanan nodded. “Barrett needs to speak with you before he sets out.”

Tombi released her shoulder. “Be back in a minute.”

The two men walked off together beyond her sight and sound. Annie marveled at their self-containment. She was in a group of over twenty people, yet the music was subdued and manageable.

A sharp pinch at her elbow caught Annie completely by surprise.

“You may have my brother fooled, but not me,” Tallulah said in a fierce whisper. Her eyes glinted with suspicion. A jangle of minor keys plunked the air surrounding her tall, lithe figure. “You never talked to my Bo. If he could talk, his spirit would have come to
me
, not you, witch.”

Her Bo. So that was how it had been between them. Tombi should have mentioned that the two of them were lovers. Still, it was hard to find sympathy for the malicious Tallulah.

“I didn't seek him out,” Annie protested. “I can't help it.”

“I can't help it,”
Tallulah mocked in a high-pitched trembly voice. “What's your real game? Who sent you here?”

Where was Tombi? Annie scanned the campground, where hunters' shadows moved into the woods and disappeared into darkness. They moved alone or sometimes in groups of two. Loners. Instead of talking, they used a series of hand signals to communicate. A few she could understand—wait, this way, goodbye—but most she couldn't decipher.

Tombi appeared suddenly from behind. “Go,” he told Tallulah in a low, harsh voice.

Chulah materialized by Tallulah's side and motioned for her to join him.

But Tallulah wasn't finished. She edged closer, and her harsh breath was in Annie's ear. “I'll be watching you.” With that, Tallulah spun around and sauntered into the woods, Chulah close at hand.

“She's had a hard time since Bo's death,” said Tombi.

Of course he'd defend his sister. But Annie found it hard to muster understanding for that Amazon. Tombi's twin possessed a black panther's stealthiness, a feline wildness marked by sharp claws and growls and hisses.

Annie would come out on the losing end of that catfight.

“We need to talk.” Tombi motioned, and she followed him into his tent. The darkness was utter under the canopy. She sat down on a pallet made of blankets. A low, throbbing drumbeat suffused the tight space between their bodies.

She wanted to sink into that sound, to lie down and fold into the steady, pulsating notes. Feel its vibration stroke her naked skin.

“The tent will muffle our voices a bit. I'm laying down a few rules before we start.”

The baritone filled the cramped space with its power. Too bad his words tempered the sexy effect of his music.

“I won't cause trouble,” she whispered, curtailing the teenaged desire to roll her eyes. “I'll stick close and keep quiet.”

“Good.” He leaned over, and she felt the hot skin of an arm and the side of his waist brush against her chest and face. Her breath quickened. His scent, his aura, drew her to him, and she was helpless to fight the pull. Being near him was sexually hypnotic. How easy it would be to reach out and pull him closer. Feel the weight of his body on top of her own. Despite the sadness of the evening and her chaotic thoughts, she was drawn to his music, as if her were the Pied Piper of the bayou.

The tent was intimate. She didn't want to hunt, she wanted to stay here, with Tombi. Safe and protected and exploring the pleasure of his body.

Crazy.

Wrong time, and possibly the wrong man.

But as if her arms weren't controlled by her brain, Annie reached around his back and drew him to her.

His back muscles tightened beneath her touch, and he drew in a ragged breath. Tombi stilled, as if warring with his sexual desire and his duty in the world outside the tent.

Annie wanted him desperately, just for a few minutes, a little slice of time. She saw how much he gave to the others, how they looked up to him. She saw how he defended his sister. In spite of Tallulah's nastiness, he made allowances for her grief. Didn't he deserve a few minutes of happiness for himself?

Didn't she?

Who knew what dangers the night and the hunt might bring?

In the hushed darkness, their breathing forged wisps of desire that swirled in the confined area.

Tombi groaned, as if admitting defeat, and his weight slammed into her, sending them both down, bodies pressed hard against the earth. His lips and tongue were on her, in her, warm and electric.

He moaned again—no, wait, that was
her
this time. Her body was in a fever of longing. Annie couldn't remember the last time—if ever—she had been so desperate with desire. Need curled and twisted her gut.

“You're so damn sexy,” Tombi ground out.

Passion flamed hotter in her veins, along with triumph and humble gratitude that she, misfit Annie Mathews, could affect him so much. She arched against him, and his mouth tracked kisses down her neck and past the hollow at the base of her throat. He pushed up her T-shirt and unhooked her bra. One of his hands glided to her breasts and palmed her rounded flesh. His mouth lowered and covered a nipple, his tongue flicking the bud, sending unbearable need to her core. Tombi's full manhood ground against her, hard and insistent.

“Tombi? Tombi? You there?”

The insistent whisper outside the tent flap exploded on their private ecstasy.

“Damn it,” Tombi muttered. In a heartbeat, he pulled away and ran a hand through his long hair.

Annie watched him scramble out the tent and hugged her arms to her waist, missing his heat and touch. Quickly, she hooked her bra and pulled down her shirt. She felt disoriented. Seconds ago her mind and body had been united and focused on physical release. Now her thoughts were chaos.

Low murmurs sounded nearby. Was there some kind of trouble? Annie silently crawled to the tent's front and poked her head out the slotted opening. Tombi and Hanan were several feet away, and they immediately turned as one to stare at her.

Not much, if anything, would get past these men. They could probably pick up a frog's croak from a hundred yards out. She ducked her head back inside, as if she'd been caught eavesdropping.

Tombi crawled into the tent and sat as far from her as he could in the small space.

The passion party was definitely over.

“So here are the simple rules,” he said, as if nothing had happened between them. “Stay within arm's reach of me and avoid talking unless it's an emergency. I'll be searching for will-o'-the-wisps, and when I come within range, I'll shoot it with a slingshot. We aim for the glowing heart in the middle. If we hit it dead-on, the wisp will release the spirit and lose its power.”

“And the trapped spirit will be freed?”

“Exactly.” He hesitated. “I've been searching for one wisp in particular.”

“Bo,” she guessed. “You want to help your friend.”

He nodded. “If you hear Bo again or sense he's near, point me in the right direction. Other sounds to beware of are snake rattles or music from the wisps. You might hear them before me. If you do, tap my arm.”

She cringed at the thought of snakes. “Seems like the wisps would be easy targets with the way they glow and the music they make.”

“But nature's provided them with speed and the ability to momentarily lose their light. Makes it hard to zero in on them.”

“And what has nature granted you? What does it mean when you say you can control your energy?”

His eyes shifted to the opening, as if impatient to be on the move. “The quick and dirty version is this—we can create a field around our bodies that makes it hard for Nalusa and his wisps to see, smell or hear us in the dark.”

He reached behind her, pulled out a camouflage duffel bag and slung it over his right shoulder.

So that was what he'd been looking for earlier when he'd leaned across her body. And she'd grabbed at him like an out-of-control hormonal teenager. Annie winced inwardly. But she consoled herself, knowing that he had obviously enjoyed their kiss.

“Let's go.”

His command cut through her musings. She followed him out, and they walked across the open field. Annie took care to stay close and stay silent.

It was like another world at night. Although it was still hot, the humidity was at a bearable level, and she became even more hyperaware of sound and smell—the gentle lap of the Gulf water, the crickets, the unnerving screech of an owl. The breeze smelled of pine and moss and sea salt that invigorated. It was the smell of childhood summers and freedom.

Tombi kept a slow pace, most likely for her ease, and managed to avoid most twigs and dry leaves. Annie winced at the first few crunches her footfalls produced. Somehow, though he weighed twice as much and his foot size was a great deal larger, Tombi walked almost soundlessly.

To his credit, he didn't utter a word or give a disapproving warning look.
Because you are doing just what he wants you to do. He needs you to find Bo again.
Tombi didn't care so much about stalking prey as he did about finding his friend. And she was his key.

Her legs tired, and her arms burned from scratches and brushes with foliage and bark. On and on and on they walked until she'd lost all sense of time. Her jeans were hot, but at least her legs weren't getting sliced and battered like her arms. How long would this go on? She'd assumed it would only be a couple of hours, but now she feared he would keep hunting until dawn.

Every few minutes he would turn and look at her, an eyebrow raised in question.
Have you heard anything?

And each time she'd had to shake her head “no.”

Annie kept her senses fully opened, a rare event. She heard more intricate, softer sounds now, rustling leaves, a lone car passing by from a great distance. The other noises she'd heard earlier deepened, and she awakened to the more subtle tones like tree roots pulsing and pushing the earth, inch by inch, mining for nutrients. The ocean lapped the shore with a splash, announcing the end of its journey until the undertow pulled it back to start a new one. Insects droned and squeaked in their thirst for survival. Small critters like squirrels or rabbits or foxes skittered amongst dense underbrush.

Eat or be eaten. Perish or thrive. The cadence of survival was a constant dance of retreat and attack, a crescendo and decrescendo of noise.

Tombi unexpectedly pulled her close to his side. His mouth covered one of her ears. “Do you need to rest?” he breathed. Her skin and insides vibrated with arousal.

She nodded, and he led her to a fallen limb where they could sit. Annie sank on to the rough bark and fought the urge to break into a loud sigh of relief. Tombi removed the camo bag from his back and produced a water bottle. Wordlessly, he handed it to her.

Annie gulped the cold water. She lifted it to her lips for another draught, pausing at the faint, floating notes wafting in the breeze. Bewitching, evocative notes that pulled her inside, urging her to come forward, to more clearly enjoy the exquisite melody. She dropped the water bottle and rose to her feet, circling to catch the direction of the music.

The music grew more distinct. And even though she knew its charm held an ugly underside, the need to follow the sound twisted her gut with longing to be closer, to bask in its loveliness.

Tombi's touch on the middle of her back steadied her. Again, he whispered in her ear. “Is it Bo?”

She considered. “I don't think so,” she said, keeping her voice barely above a breath.

Disappointment tightened his face.

“But there's more than one,” she added. “It's a blended sound. I'd guess at least five or six separate voices.”

“Damn. How far away?”

“About fifty yards.” She pointed toward the east. “In that direction.”

Tombi pulled out his slingshot and palmed several rocks. “Can't wait here and let them circle us in an ambush.”

“What would happen if they did?”

“Your soul would be in jeopardy. They invade your mind like a cold smoke. A vapor that seeps in by any crack in your mental armor.”

“I'll go with you,” she said hurriedly. “I can help throw stones.”

“No,” he said, cutting her off at once. “You'll be safer here. Stay put and don't go anywhere.”

He placed a couple of stones in her hand and left, disappearing in sudden, silent movements.

Jerk. He'd promised to stay close by her side, yet at the first whiff of a fight, he'd abandoned her. Annie sat back down on the log, put the stones in her lap and pressed her fingers to her ears, trying to at least partially block the will-o'-the-wisps' alluring call. It helped, but it wasn't perfect. Annie resorted to her second round of defense; she sang silently inside, blocking outside sound from overpowering her emotions.