Pema's Storm: Rowan Sisters' Trilogy Book 1 (12 page)

“I can imagine what you are thinking since I feel your anger and bloodlust through the phone. Trust me. Neither choice is a smart one right now. Pema mentioned Claire and we have Isis under wraps for the same reasons. Claire’s mother is very powerful and has powerful allies. You don’t want to stir that hornet’s nest.”

“Oh, that’s where you are wrong, warrior. I want to beat the shit out of it at the moment. No one harms my mate and gets away with it. She will pay,” he barked into the phone. He had to see for himself that his mate was alright and then take care of matters.

“Look, I know it’s hard right now, but you need to calm down and find an outlet other than revenge at the moment. If you go after her and they manage to take you out, then you are leaving your mate completely vulnerable. I know you don’t want that, right?”

He knew the Dark Warrior was right, but his bloodlust wouldn’t be denied. His safety didn’t matter, only his mate’s. Besides, he always cleaned up his messes, and if not for him, Pema wouldn’t have been injured and nearly killed twice. This was far from over.

Ronan drove recklessly through downtown Seattle, having just ended his call with Rhys. Pema had been injured again and he needed to get to her. He concentrated on his connection to his mate and headed in the direction he felt she was, but he had no idea exactly where the infamous Dark Warrior compound was. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t able to pin point her exact location. His bear was clawing at his skin to break free, confident it could find her anywhere in this city.

He glanced at the cell phone in the seat next to him. Rhys had been spot-on that Ronan needed to calm down before doing anything rash, which was difficult to do when he was being assaulted by so many foreign emotions. Things with Pema had been hard and fast and intense, so it was no surprise that he had fallen for her. He realized as he agonized over what to do that he loved her and didn’t care that he had gone from zero to sixty and left his past behind.

He needed to make sure Pema was protected. They had a life to begin together, and he’d be damned if he was going to let anything interfere with that. He only wished that his family was there to meet his Fated Mate. Sadness swamped him when he thought of them. They would have loved her fire and wit.

His bear once again clawed at the surface, wanting out. Every cell in his body screamed with the desire for vengeance. The knowledge that he failed his mate cut him to the bone. Never again, he vowed. He’d make sure she had everything she could ever want. Her smiles and happiness were all that mattered.

An image of her astride him with a sated smile gracing her lips flashed into his mind, casting the shadows away. He wasn’t able to stop the memory as it traveled through their entire interlude. They were combustible together, and always would be. She fired his blood like nothing else.

He wanted nothing more than to forget his out of control bear and his need for vengeance to find his mate and make love to her. Physical pain and discomfort from their unfinished mating battered him, pushing him to seek Pema out and finish their mating. Unless they completed the mating with a blood exchange, their pain would become unbearable.

As the streets passed by in a blur, his bear clamored even more to be let loose and take action. Controlling his animal at the moment was one of the most difficult challenges he’d ever faced. He rubbed his mate mark and thought about fate and the Goddess. He sent a prayer of thanks to the Goddess for making Pema for him.

With that in mind, he had work to do. Finally able to think more clearly, he decided that first he would shift and hunt, releasing his aggression. A hunt would have to substitute for vengeance until a plan could be devised that didn’t put Pema at risk again. He and his bear were in agreement that his mate being in danger was unacceptable.

Killian had told him that Claire and her mother were dangerous, and he wasn’t tackling that issue without seeking advice and a plan. On that note, he picked up his cell phone from the seat and called his Omega. He wasn’t leaving his mate without all the protection at his disposal.

“Hayden here.” The deep burly voice of his Omega was a welcomed relief.

“Hayden, its Ronan Blackwell. I’m not sure if you’ve heard about what happened, but I have a situation that I need help with.” Ronan gripped the steering wheel tightly, nearly bending the steel.

“’Bout time you realized I’m here to help. No doubt, you’re calling about your mate…a witch named Pema Rowan. If my information is correct, I believe there was an explosion and she and her sisters are currently staying at Zeum,” his leader said, evenly.

Ronan was shocked, having no idea that Hayden was that well connected. Ronan had just learned of the events himself, but after all, Hayden was the Omega and sat on a council with several other leaders in the realm. Of course he would be informed about an incident of such importance.

“Your information isn’t wrong, about any of it. I have to tell you that my ex, Claire, is responsible, and my bear is clawing at me to shred her for what she has done then take her head to Pema. I have to eliminate the threat to Pema, but can’t just yet, and my bear is close to breaking free…” Ronan trailed off, wiping the sweat from his brow. The continuous battle to keep his animal caged was rubbing him raw.

“Be still,” Hayden ordered, shifter-magic layering his voice. As the Omega, Hayden had the ability to shift into any animal, and the power behind that enabled him to gain control of any of his shifters. Immediately, Ronan’s bear backed off at hearing the command in his leader’s voice. He had never had to call on Hayden, and the experience of having his bear cowed by this strong leader was disturbing. It wasn’t something he ever wanted to need again, because for a split second, it was almost as if his bear was gone.

However, Ronan was grateful the powerful male was behind him in this matter, and that he could count on him. Hayden would come in handy when it came time to exact his revenge.

“I have been in contact with Zander and several other members of the council about the poisoning and the bombing,” Hayden continued. “Luckily, Pema was able to provide the make, model and partial license plate of a car seen driving away from the scene right before the explosion. Otherwise, there would be no evidence to support your claim that Claire is responsible. Don’t even think of going after Claire. As Pema’s mate, you may have the right to seek revenge without risk of punishment for murder, but we need to develop a plan first. You will not go into this half-cocked. The High Priestess is not an enemy the shifters want. Do you understand?”

There was no mistaking the command in those statements. It chafed, but Ronan understood there was a larger picture to consider. He wasn’t good at sitting back and talking about doing something. He needed to take action and endless hours of sitting in meetings just to develop a plan would drive him insane. He believed in kicking ass and taking names, he could ask questions later.

For him, ensuring Pema’s safety was paramount, and the rest could go to hell. Still, he had no choice but to follow the order, “Yes, sire. I understand.”

“So, what can I do for you in the meantime?” Hayden asked.

A fierce pain stabbed through his arm to his heart and soul. The need to be with his mate and claim her fully stole his breath momentarily. “I need you personally to watch out for Pema and add security to what Zander is already providing. I’m going to let my bear out for a hunt, but I can’t do that unless I know she is guarded while I’m in the woods. Also, I’d appreciate it if you can make sure her shop is secured.”

Hayden chuckled. “I will see to it right away. Zander and I are meeting with the council in fifteen. We all need to be on alert, and assume Cele is a threat, as well. Go get your head on straight then get your ass to Zeum. I’ll text you the address.”

“Thank you, sire,” Ronan replied before he clicked off.

When he looked around, he realized he was already across the bridge and nearing his newfound hunting grounds. A few minutes later, he pulled off Woodinville-Duvall road and parked on a dirt road. He stretched and sent his senses outward, searching for any sign of humans. When he was assured he was alone with the creatures of the forest, he shed his clothes, leaving them on the seat of his truck.

The magic of transformation enveloped him and in seconds his animal took over, leaving him on all fours. He let out the roar he had been holding in and charged off into the trees. Soaring evergreens crowded him and lush foliage met his paws. He inhaled the crisp autumn air and took in the scent of the forest, pine and earth. Unfortunately, while it invigorated him, it did little to soothe his boiling rage.

He ran as fast and as far as he could, clawing tree after tree, felling them. Panting, he approached a stream for a drink of water. As he lapped up the liquid, foreign magic rippled over his fur, causing it to stand on end. This wasn’t friendly magic, it had a menacing taint to it. Every instinct told him that danger was near. This would do nicely for the hunt both male and bear needed.

On silent paws, he padded through the underbrush and followed his nose. Soon, the stench became unbearable. It was a putrid combination of rotten eggs, brimstone and fresh blood. Ronan had to bite back his growls. Aside from his knife-sized claws, stealth and surprise were his best weapons.

Peeking around a large tree trunk, he saw two enormous, hideous, black dog-like creatures that were bigger than a Clydesdale. Being twice the size of a normal grizzly, he wasn’t intimidated. He had no idea what they were; yet somehow, his bear identified them as hellhounds. The male inside had no frame of reference for what the bear knew instinctively, but he had learned long ago to trust his bear’s intuition.

The scent of fresh blood came from the deer they were feeding on. He crouched and took their measure. They were vicious, fighting each other for the kill. He could use their infighting to his advantage. As he tensed to attack, Pema’s soul stretched and he swore it purred in his chest. He smiled at the thought that his witch was a warrior and excited about the coming battle. She was a fierce and passionate female all the way around, and he loved it.

Blood pumping and adrenaline flooding his brain, Ronan charged into the small space. Before the creatures were aware of anything, he had barreled into one of them and clamped his teeth down into its slick flesh. Thrashing his head from side to side, he separated its head from its body. A disgusting, foul taste lingered on his tongue and he realized that he had the hellhound’s head in his mouth and the blood was seeping down his throat. He had never tasted anything so vile. His gut churned and he dropped the head, turning to face the other hound that was prowling toward him.

He bared his canines and let loose his growls. They circled each other, stepping over debris. He swiped out one dinner-plate-sized paw and connected with a flank. The hound howled and broke formation to charge him. He tried to side step the hit, but the huge beast was too fast. Searing pain in his left shoulder had Ronan staggering. It felt like acid had been injected into his flesh. Pushing the pain aside, he tried to clear his head.

Claws scrabbling in the pine needles and dried leaves of the forest floor caught Ronan’s attention. He looked to the left and saw the hellhound reverse course and come at him again. He turned as fast as he could, but his injury slowed him down. He couldn’t allow the thing to land another hit, so he mustered all the energy he could for an attack. He reached out with his right paw and missed. The demon-dog danced out of the way and the move tore open its flank wound, which began bleeding black again.

Ronan needed to use his surroundings to his advantage. He scanned the area, then ran past the hound’s left side and pushed off on his hind legs to hit a tree about five feet off the ground. He gritted his teeth against the pain when his front paws were jarred by the action. Ignoring that, he used his rear legs to push back off the tree. He twisted in mid-air and landed on the stunned creature. He dug his claws into its sides with all his remaining strength. Unlike his opponent, Ronan’s wound was not healing and black dots were marring his vision. Something was preventing his rapid healing process from beginning.

As Ronan geared up to finish the demon-dog, it twisted in his hold, tearing through its own shark-like skin. Burning pain scalded Ronan’s sides as razor sharp teeth pierced his skin. The pain was so intense he almost blacked out. Each drop of hellhound saliva into his flesh felt as if a hot brand was being shoved into his muscle. He writhed and slashed and gnashed at the creature underneath him.

Pema’s soul sent warmth flooding through him, blessedly numbing his pain. It gave him the strength to remove his claws and pin the hound’s shoulders to the dirt, then he leaned down and sliced through an artery with his incisors. Not wanting anymore of the foul blood in his stomach, he moved his head aside as it gushed from the hellhound’s torn neck. He was tired and hurt all over. He had to end this, now. One last swipe of his claws removed the creature’s head, ending the battle.

Ronan collapsed to the side and lay panting for several long minutes. He tried to stand up and wasn’t able to. What the hell was going on? Normally, he’d be able to shrug this off and recover quickly, but there was no brushing this off. His shoulder and side were still bleeding and on fire. Blackness crept in, telling him he was going to lose consciousness. He needed to get some help or he wasn’t going to make it.