Under His Wings (20 page)

Fury. Hot. Consuming. Blinding.

It ignited in the soles of her feet, crackled up her calves,
thighs and torso until she was ablaze in its blistering heat. The fire raced
over her skin, uncontrolled, razing everything in its path, leaving her a
living ball of flames.

Agony replaced rage, punched the breath from her body. She
dropped to her hands and knees.

“Stop!” she screamed, but the word emerged from her throat
as a piercing, shrill cry that filled the woods and reached toward the sky. Her
head fell back on her shoulders and another scream ripped from her soul—a
scream that wasn’t faintly human.

Inside her head, bone snapped. Electricity sizzled and
popped under and over her skin. She shrieked at the excruciating stretching and
reshaping of muscle and tendon.

She writhed under the pain that hijacked her body, held it
hostage in a merciless vise. Screams ricocheted in her head, her cries for
Nicolai and help bouncing against the walls of her mind like an endless reel of
agony.

She exploded. Imploded.

On a swirling ball of light and heat, she died.

And was reborn.

Shuddering, Tamar rose to feet that weren’t feet.

Talons. Yellow and dagger-sharp. White, feathered legs.

Shit.
She stumbled back and yelped, but a
high-pitched caw reverberated in the air. Out of the corner of her eye, she
caught the tip of a russet-and-cream-colored wing.

Her
wing.

She’d done it. She’d completed the transformation.

Joy—wild and fierce—flooded her, strengthened her.

A hippogryph.

Testing her limbs, she stamped the ground with a hind leg
and the earth beneath hummed from the impact. Power. Magic. It surrounded her,
infused her. The creature that had been awakening and emerging inside her for
weeks had burst from its sleep and merged with Tamar, transforming her into a
being of intellect as well as unimaginable strength.

“No!”
The enraged cry barraged her brain just as an
earsplitting screech pierced the air. Evander glared at her, his eyes black
coals of fire. His massive bulk seemed to vibrate with fury. He reared up on
his hindquarters, his hooves tapping out a macabre dance as his fully extended
wings shook and his head with its feathered crest twisted from side to side.

His rage sparked hers like a match to kindling. Her
hippogryph took charge, transmitting messages to her body, instructing it how
to move, maneuver, strike. Bowing her head, she mimicked the aggressive stance
Evander had assumed—head lowered, forelegs bunched, spine arched, wings folded.

If he’d believed she would turn tail and run, he’d picked
the wrong fucking hippogryph.

When he charged forward, she met him halfway.

His wide chest slammed into her as he tried to use his
enormous mass to crush her to the ground. Tamar stumbled but held her position.
And pushed back.

Pain hissed down her side as claws raked her but the tear of
Evander’s flesh under her own talons offset her injury.

With a violent heave, Evander shoved away from her. Blood
streamed from his shoulder, above his right wing. Satisfaction surged even as
she took stock of the deep wound that scored her breast.

She was hurt…but so was he.

* * * * *

Nicolai circled the sky, his gaze scanning the yard, the
trees and the gorge.

Where is she, damn it?

As he tightened his search to the forest that lined the
cabin, her scream rang in his head, deafening him to everything but the agony
that had infused his name. He’d been on the back porch waiting for her to
return from her walk when the initial cry had drilled into his brain. He’d
bounded off the deck, shifted midair and shot into the sky. Only minutes had
passed, but they stretched like eons. Endless eons where she could be hurt…or
worse.

Panic and fear swelled and pitched in his gut. He was crazed
with it. Not again, not again. The litany spooled in his head. He couldn’t do
this again. Couldn’t lose Tamar. He wouldn’t survive it.

Where the fuck is she?

He skimmed the dense branches, the leaves grazing his
undercarriage. She couldn’t have gotten far into the woods. Not if she followed
the same—

A flash of black among the green and gold leaves snagged his
attention.

Out of place. Didn’t belong.

Nicolai dove, heedless of the thick foliage that scratched
and nicked his body. Branches snapped under his weight as he plunged toward the
forest floor. As soon as he crashed through the tree line, he saw him.

Evander.

Facing off against a smaller gold-and-white hippogryph. Its
brown-and-cream spotted feathers flared then folded, the darker tips glancing
her gold hindquarters and white tail. The battle stance it assumed only
emphasized its delicate beauty.

Recognition rammed into him.

Tamar.

The hippogryph was Tamar, his mate. His warrior. His soul.

Fierce pride and joy exploded inside him, followed by a fury
that fisted him in its consuming need to protect and kill.

His rage, too huge to contain, burst from him in a
shattering, brutal cry.

He slammed to the ground beside Tamar. The scent of her
blood reached him and with a cursory glance he took in the crimson splattering
over her white feathers.

“You die today,”
Nicolai promised Evander as dark
rage billowed through him.

“Maybe,”
the rogue growled.
“But not before I take
your bitch with me.”

Nicolai lunged at the same time Evander feigned to the left
and shot forward, aiming for Tamar.

“Fuck!”
Nicolai shouted, throwing his body to the
side in an effort to shield her. Evander’s chuckle poured into his head as
Nicolai registered the rogue’s intention a second too late.

But Evander’s talons ripped through empty space. His
laughter became a furious howl as his prey disappeared in a blur of
gold-and-white feathers. Nicolai’s gaze shot upward.

Flying. Tamar’s heavy wings flapped against the air, holding
her body several feet above them.

Love, pride and hate replaced the blood flowing to his
muscles, the breath in his lungs, the power in his body. He plowed into
Evander’s side, the hollow snap of bone reverberating against his chest. A hot
rush of blood coated his claw. The rogue’s wrath and pain poured out of him in
a shrill scream. Evander bucked hard under Nicolai’s bulk but the
Dimios
held on. The traitor wouldn’t evade him again. Today, he would come to an end.

As if sensing his death, Evander gave a desperate heave,
nearly dislodging Nicolai. But then the rogue slammed to the forest floor.
Yellow talons dug into his wing blades, a dark-brown beak struck the back of
his neck.

Tamar pinned Evander to the ground, her tawny gaze meeting
Nicolai over Evander’s head.
“Together,”
her voice whispered along their
link.

“Together,”
he murmured and slashed his claw across
the hippogryph’s throat at the same time Tamar’s beak punctured the side of
Evander’s neck.

Evander slumped to the ground, his blood gushing out of the
wounds. The rattle of air escaping the deep gash slicing his windpipe was the
only sound in the hushed quiet that followed the battle.

His dark eyes glazed over, death claiming the last sign of
life. With a shudder, he went still. Forever.

Nicolai shifted away from him, a deep satisfaction
possessing him. It was over—it was finally over.

He glanced up at Tamar and his pleasure shot to panic as
with a flutter of her wings, she tumbled off Evander’s back.

With a cry, Nicolai shifted to human form and hurdled the
rogue’s corpse to land beside his mate. In a burst of light, she transformed,
too inexperienced to hold the hippogryph’s form in her injured state. She
curled on the grass into a fetal position, her palms pressed to her chest where
blood poured through her fingers.

Terror seized him as he bent and scooped her up in his arms.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he begged. “Hold on for me. I can’t
lose you when I’ve just found you.”

His wings broke free from his skin and Nicolai shot into the
sky.

Chapter Eleven

Tamar swam to a warm light that hovered above the abyss of
unconsciousness. She hurled herself toward it, desperate to escape the dark.

Her lungs expanded with a hard gasp as she jerked her eyes
open. Her gaze darted about her surroundings. A wide, bare window, weak
moonlight streaming through. Walls of wooden logs. A fireplace.

Memories flooded back, washing away the initial fogginess.

The cabin. She was in the safe house.

Safe, apparently.

She shifted, groaned at the stiffness that permeated her
body. Damn, had she been beaten with a stick?

Another deluge of memories roared through her head.

The woods. Evander. Nicolai. Battle.

Transformation.

Flying.

“Oh God, was I dreaming?” she whispered, throwing back the
bedcovers and yanking her shirt up her torso. Wonder and disbelief rolled
through her. A flat, shiny scar under her breast.

“No, you weren’t dreaming,” a low, familiar and adored voice
spoke up from the corner of the bedroom.

Nicolai pushed off the wall where he’d been leaning,
watching. Pleasure suffused her. He’d been standing guard, always protecting
her. His confident, long strides carried him to the bed in seconds. She stared
up into his handsome, sensual face, unable to tear her gaze away.

God, he was beautiful. And alive. She smiled even as tears
stung her eyes. Alive. And so was she.

Tamar lunged from the mattress, heedless of the protest her
aching muscles set up. His arms snatched her out of the air, dragging her
against his chest, holding her close. His heather-and-wind scent filled her
nostrils. His breath brushed her cheek.

“Oh baby,” he murmured. “I’m so damn glad to see your eyes
open.”

His mouth crushed hers.

With a moan of desire and happiness, Tamar squeezed his neck
in her tight embrace. Her lips parted and his tongue surged forward, tangling
with hers. It was a kiss of assurance, of delight, of life. When he drew back
and peppered her face and chin with short pecks, she sighed and tilted her head
back to the tender kisses like a flower turning its petals to the healing sun.

He buried his face in her neck, his warm, rapid pants
bathing her skin.

“You chose me,” he said, the words muffled.

“Yes.” She smiled. “Yes, I did.”

“You were so gorgeous.” He lifted his head and swept a
trembling hand over her hair, pushing the strands away from her cheeks. His
palms cradled her head as he studied her, peered down into her eyes. “My little
warrior.”

Her heart melted like butter. Just melted into a golden
puddle. “Not so little, it turns out.” She grinned, thinking of her hippogryph
beast. Wow, what a damn kick in the pants. “I flew, Nico,” she said as if he
hadn’t been there. Awe swelled inside her, filling her chest. Maybe her fear of
the dark hadn’t been conquered, but she’d flown again. Instead of inside a plane
she’d soared through the sky with
her own wings
.

“She is as beautiful as you are in human form,”
he
praised, his silken tone caressing the walls of her mind.

Her lashes lowered in pleasure, but then shot up. “So I
wasn’t going crazy,” she accused. “You can speak to me telepathically.” All
those times while they made love she’d believed she imagined his voice inside
her head. But it had been real.

“You didn’t know?” he asked, aiming for innocence but
falling far short of the mark.

“You know I didn’t know,” she said, smacking his shoulder.
Then kissed the same spot. She sobered. “For a minute there I didn’t think I’d
see you again.”

“Think how I felt finding you squaring off with Evander.” A
rumble like an impending thunderstorm vibrated against her chest. “I wanted to
drag you off and kill the bastard both at the same time.”

“But you let me stand with you,” she murmured. He’d treated
her as an equal, let her face their enemy together instead of cosseting her.

I don’t want to trap you or imprison you in some gilded
cage. But I want you to live.

His vow filtered through her mind. Nicolai would always
protect her, but he would never strangle her spirit. He wanted a warrior, a
partner…a mate.

“I’m so proud,” he said. The hoarse words stroked her skin
and she shivered under their touch. “And I love you so much. So much,” he
whispered, pressing his lips to hers, to her forehead. “I’ll let you go like I
promised. But I’m asking you to keep me.” He brushed a knuckle down her cheek,
whisked the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “I can’t imagine a life
without you by my side.”

Yes
rushed up the back of her throat and hovered on
her tongue. But one lingering worry trapped it. She lowered her arms from his
neck and cuffed his thick wrists. “Nico, what about the
Dimios
? I can’t
ask you to give up—”

“You don’t have to ask me to do a damn thing,” he said.
“There will always be a
Dimios
, Tamar. But there will never be another
you or another lifetime to spend with you.” He cupped her head between his
palms, gave it a little shake. “I choose you and the life we can have together.
Just as you chose me.”

“Nicolai,” she breathed his name, love pressing the air from
her lungs. Using her grip on his wrists as leverage, she arched high, pressed
her mouth to his, took them in a kiss that bespoke of adoration, trust and
hope. “I love you. I have for three years. And I will forever.” She grinned
against his lips, joy overflowing a heart that was finally healed and whole.
“And with you, Buckbeak, forever is a very real thing.”

About Naima Simone

I was born the daughter of a sharecropper…okay, maybe not.
But I am the daughter of a pastor, from whom I inherited my love of romance.
The man can preach a mean Song of Solomon! (There’s that plug, Daddy! You can
pay me later!)

Although my first book starred a cucumber named Fred, my
first romance came several years later in the seventh grade when I wrote myself
as a heroine opposite Ralph Tresvant from New Edition. Through the power of my
pen and imagination, Ralph took one look across a crowded stadium, met my dark,
mysterious gaze, fell passionately in love and serenaded me in front of everyone—once
we had the inevitable fight, a.k.a. black moment, and made up with a passionate
declaration of love and fidelity. The same story reincarnated itself many times
over the years—with Donnie Wahlberg from New Kids on the Block, Brad Pitt,
Denzel Washington and, as recently as last night, Vin Diesel.

Though the characters have changed, my love of love has
endured. Shaping the lives of the unique men and women who experience the
first, hungry bites of lust, the dizzying heights of passion and the tender,
healing heat of love—nothing compares to it. Except maybe discovering new
material for love scenes with my husband, the head of Research &
Development!

Naima welcomes comments from readers. You can find her
website and email addresses on her
author
bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.

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Also by
Naima
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Sweet
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Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Under His Wings

ISBN 9781419941634

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Under His Wings Copyright 2013 Naima Simone

Edited by Violet Hughes

Photography and  cover design by Syneca

Model: Ryan

Electronic book publication January 2013

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