Southern Shifters: Pryde and Precious (Kindle Worlds Novella) (3 page)

Settling her in the back of the vehicle, he buckled in her motionless body. For now, she was safer with him than anywhere else. He waited until he was on the highway speeding away from her sleepy little complex before he called the sweepers.

Not even his team got to know where he went next.

A
vise squeezing
her head roused Arianna from the darkness shrouding her mind. Pressing a hand to her face, she groaned. Insomnia was a beast and although she didn’t sleep as often as she should, when she did finally fall asleep she often woke with a hangover. The urge to roll onto her side and burrow into the fuzzy blanket sank into her bones. It took a fraction of a second longer for memory to pierce the fog.

Someone was in her apartment.

Bolting upright, she looked around…where the hell was she? She didn’t recognize the wooden floors or thatched rugs. Shoving the heavy blanket off, she stood and swayed. Her legs weren’t ready for her to rise so quickly. A shiver raced along her spine and goosebumps rose on her arms.

Brown floors. Brown suede furniture. A brown and tan thatched rug with creams mixed in. Even the art on the walls was done in earth tones. Surrounded by so much brown—

Where am I?

The next question tripping through her brain was where was the man who’d broken into her apartment? Pivoting, she looked for a weapon. Any kind of weapon. An empty stone fireplace across from her held some wrought iron fireplace tools.

“That’ll do.” She half-limped, half-stumbled to the stonework and chose the heaviest poker. Firming her grip on the cool metal, she glanced around the room once more. A pair of windows allowed natural light to filter in—at least it was still daytime. Her clothes were the same spandex workout pieces she’d worn to do her yoga.

The wood floor was cool beneath her bare feet and, despite her hammering pulse, an inescapable chill of apprehension roiled through her. Had she been kidnapped?
Of course I’ve been kidnapped.
She shook her head at the swell of panic accompanying that thought. A man broke into her apartment, and she woke up somewhere else. She didn’t know him, didn’t know why he’d taken her, or where she was.

Edging all the way to the door, she leaned toward the window and scanned the area. Sunlight drenched everything—dense mountain foliage, trees, bushes and grass. Green everywhere and beyond…Arianna released a squeak on a long breath. The view of the Dragon’s Back. She was home.

In the mountains.

Panting, she jerked around to face the room. Had the council sent someone to retrieve her to work on their project elsewhere? The highly secretive nature of the assignment coupled with its sudden arrival suggested it to be a likely scenario. Then why didn’t the man identify himself?

Or had he tried?

The vise around her brain seemed to squeeze even tighter, and she tried to regulate her breathing. The panic swamping her wouldn’t help anyone and, if she shut down due to an anxiety attack, she would get no answers.

If he tried a telepathic knock, and she didn’t answer…
But would I have noticed it?
In her mind’s eye, she could see him through the peephole, the way he introduced himself. The stunning color of his eyes arrested her all over again. They were such a vivid blue, so cool they almost glowed. What if he’d given her a telepathic knock? Her feeble skills weren’t always up to the task. In fact, she’d lost it more than once during her lessons with even medium-grade telepaths when they initiated the contact. With a mental finger, she tested her shields and wanted to weep. They were gone. No matter how cobbled together and haphazard her shielding had always been, she had them. Except now—they were gone like so much ephemera and her mind had nothing to shelter it against any barrage.

Was that why she fainted? A calculated mental blow might have collapsed them and put her out. It could also explain the persistent headache dogging her since she awoke.
Okay, so he tried to contact me, and he’s too strong, so it knocked me out.
Another reasonable scenario.
But where is he?
Despite not speaking aloud, she whispered the thoughts as she tried to hastily erect some sort of barrier. The last thing she wanted was to bring her captor into the room while her mind was open and naked for his inspection.

A set of stairs led up to the unknown second floor. Rather than ascending them and possibly trapping herself with him up there, she walked as quietly as she could manage through the living room to the other side. Was there a kitchen? A lab?

The room opened into a slightly smaller one featuring a table and chairs. Very homey looking with more wood. An open counter bar separated the table area from the kitchen.

A home.

So, not a lab. It had the feel of being lived in. Fruits were piled in a bowl on the center of the table. They created a specular array of color in the sunshine, the only real splash of it among all the earth tones. Hints of bacon perfumed the air and a pan sat in the sink, freshly washed. Circling the bar, she waved her hand near the stovetop. It was still warm.

Next to the clean pan sat a clean plate and a fork. No sign of a cup. Following the welcoming scent of coffee, she studied the coffee maker. A fresh pot sat waiting, though the top third had been emptied. Perhaps by the same person who’d eaten bacon in the kitchen?

Her stomach growled, and she chewed her lower lip.

“If you want some, the cups are in the cabinet above you.” The masculine voice behind her sent a wave of shock through her muscles. Spinning, she flung the fireplace poker toward the man on the other side of the bar before his identity registered. Stunning blue eyes. Dark hair. Beautifully symmetrical features. She clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified at her own actions, but he caught the fireplace poker and glanced from it to her with raised eyebrows.

“Cold?”

Despite the hint of chill curling in her blood, she shook her head slowly.
Oh God, I tried to hurt him. What’s wrong with me?
She waited for the reprimand, but the male studying her didn’t seem remotely upset. If anything, he looked bemused.

“So you’re not cold?” The way he pinned his gaze on her left warmer than she’d been in a long time.

“No.” Pushing the word out took actual effort. Once the syllable popped free, however, she released the dam. “Who are you? Where am I? Why did you bring me here?”

He set the poker aside then circled the bar. In his other hand, he held a cup of coffee. It took her a moment to register his trajectory brought him directly to her. She tried to backpedal but collided with the counter. Bare feet slipping, she winced at the blow and then a strong hand held her arm balancing her.

“You’re a nervous little thing, aren’t you, kitten?” Whether it was the question or the heated contact of his hand on her bare flesh she had no idea, but her synapses seemed to sizzle. Words ceased to have meaning, and she opened her mouth but no sound escaped.

Oh dear…
Darkness crowded the corners of her eyes and world tunneled. Sound and sensation slammed together.

“You’re going to faint aren’t you?” Impatience creased the sentence, and she felt so bad for him.

“I’m sorry,” she managed, then the darkness walloped her.

F
or the second
time in the day, John found himself catching the crumpling woman. Leaning close, he inhaled deeply from her scent. Twice more he repeated the process, but detected no signature traces of illness. Her first act upon waking had been to arm herself while the second had been to identify her location. Both choices offered him a fascinating insight into the kitten who’d actually used her weapon when he startled her.

Knowing she hadn’t been aware of him and walking up on her had been a calculated risk. Beyond her reaction was a much larger question. How had she not known he was there? Unlike some of the other cat clans, his had never utilized any Psi abilities. He couldn’t shield in a way to keep her from sensing him. Move so softly she wouldn’t hear? Prowl and balance until he was ready to pounce? Absolutely. Block her mind?

No.

She weighed next to nothing. Though unconscious, her eyelids fluttered ever so slightly. Did she dream in this state? Returning her to the sofa, he tucked her beneath a blanket. It was winter in the mountains. Although the sun was shining outdoors, snow coated the upper elevations and the weather could turn on them at any time. Another reason he’d brought her to the lodge. It was out of the way, isolated and, if the weather trapped them, it bought him more time to learn what she was up to.

And whether I have to eliminate you as a possible threat or not.
Brushing the tumble of hair off her forehead, he let the silky strands slide through his fingers. His cat batted at him. Killing her interested neither of them. First, he needed her to wake and stay awake. Then he could feed her or provide her with whatever supplies she needed. His searched of the apartment turned up no medications, but perhaps he overlooked something.

Irritated with the prospect, he texted the cleaning crew he’d sent and ordered them to check for any prescriptions, medical equipment or a file. If she needed something, he’d make sure she had it. Until then, he retrieved the first aid kit and pulled out smelling salts. Personally, he hated the damn things. They made his nose itch, but he needed her conscious.

Returning to her side, he cracked the ampule open, grimacing at the harsh odor of ammonia underlying a hint of eucalyptus. Maybe they thought the plant oil would soften the stench. Arianna responded almost immediately. Her eyes opened with a jerk. Her pupils were fat and dilated as her gaze collided with his.

“Don’t pass out again.” He removed the ampule and slid it into a plastic bag and pulled it shut. The last thing he wanted was to keep inhaling the scent himself. Pale and wide-eyed, Arianna tried to push herself into the corner of the sofa, retreating as far from him physically as the furniture allowed. Sitting on the corner of the coffee table, he focused on the pound of her pulse. Her heart raced, but her respiration began to steady the longer they sat there.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”
Yet.
He kept the mental caveat to himself. At the rate they were going, he wouldn’t have to do anything other than catch her. When she swung her legs toward the edge of the sofa, he raised a hand. “Please do us both a favor and stay seated. We’ve avoided head injury so far, but I don’t wish to press your luck.”

Anger rippled across her expression, replacing shock, and color flooded her pale cheeks. Her pupils contracted and the glassy appearance of her eyes faded. “Who the hell are you, John Brandon? Why did you kidnap me?”

“Currently, I am the man taking care of you.” They would get to the rest shortly. “Do you have a medical condition of which I need to be aware? Do you require medication of any type?”

A tight line appeared between her brows as her eyes narrowed. A tart, sharp irritation bloomed in her scent. “What I require is to go back to my home unmolested. Where are we?” The demand eased a measure of his concern. Despite the evidence to the contrary, she was capable of standing up for herself.

“In a safe house.”

“A safe house?” Suspicion underscored each word. “Why would the council want me in a safe house?”

The more her focus increased, the more his cat relaxed. Whether it was proximity or not, he maintained her nearness. To get answers, he needed to be able to question her. If she passed out on him again, they wouldn’t get anywhere. He studied her for flickers in her expression or shifts in her scent. He’d know if she lied to him. “Do you recall when I arrived at your apartment? I told you I was there because of an email to Rynodyne Chemical.”

Curling into a sitting position, she pulled her knees to her chest. Despite her obvious attempts at fitness, she was a short little psi with generous, soft curves. At her full height, she wouldn’t even brush his chin. Maybe he needed to make himself less threatening. It flew in the face of honesty, but he rounded his shoulders and hunched so his forearms rested against his thighs. Though his head was still above hers, her pupils contracted and the tightness around her lips eased.

“I remember—vaguely.” A small smile followed the last word. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually pass out on people…much less on people who break into my apartment.” Pique rose in the last phrase. “Which you did.”

“Yes.” He nodded his head, accepting the charge. “You were not going to open the door.”

“No, because you were a stranger and I don’t—I don’t like strangers.” That wasn’t what she was about to say. She’d edited herself for some reason.

“Miss Ferrars.” The path before him seemed littered with so much broken glass, he had to have a care with where he put his paws.

“Arianna is fine. Strangers or not, Miss Ferrars sounds even weirder. I don’t talk to people that often, so I’m not all that good at it.”

Not entirely sure whether he should serve the volley back or simply sidestep the landmine she presented in that nugget of information, he frowned. His cat batted at him. No, he couldn’t leave it alone. “You don’t talk to people often?”

“Not particularly. I work with plants. I go to my greenhouse and I work there, or sometimes in my lab, but I don’t have a team that I have to deal with. I mean there
is
a team, but everyone has their own thing to do, and we communicate via email and every once in a while they make us do a team meeting. In a large crowd. When I’m lucky, it’s in an auditorium, and I can sit in the back. When I’m not, I have to sit with others. It’s all very uncomfortable. But you were at my house, and no one comes to my house—I mean, apartment. I don’t have a house. I have a small apartment, it’s what my stipend affords me.”

“Uh huh.” Who the hell was this woman? Why was she assigned to such a dangerous project?

“I’m babbling.” Another hint of a smile. “You still broke into my house and apparently kidnapped me to somewhere in the mountains?”

Fishing when dealing with a cat? Amused despite himself, he spread his hands wide. “You reached out to a human chemical company for some compounds, exposing yourself in the process.”

“I did not.” Her offense wavered though. “I mean I did reach out to some companies…”

Some?
The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

“…but I did not include my personal information, and I certainly didn’t give them my address. I also couched the questions in terms of compounds only, not purpose. No one can possibly know what I am looking for.”