CHAPTER 12
Surrendering to his need of Sherry had been dangerous.
Foolish.
It hadn’t satisfied that need, it had only intensified it. Now he couldn’t get his mind off her, and his primal side, the tiger in him, wouldn’t settle unless she was close to him. The pressing need to mate with her, to ensure that she was his, filled his waking hours and invaded his sleep too, manifesting in sultry dreams of her.
Gods, he needed her.
But it had been dangerous.
He had almost lost control when he had been kissing her neck the first time, and had stopped himself from doing something reckless and irreversible by leaving her. The second time?
Talon still wasn’t sure how he had resisted biting her.
He had felt her need, the desire that had awoken in her, and he had wanted to satisfy it.
Somehow, he had reined himself in at the last moment, finding the strength to overcome his instincts and settle for sucking on her throat instead.
Not the sort of mark he had wanted to place on her.
Still wanted to place on her.
It was one hell of a mark though, a huge deep bruise that was going to take some time to fade, and was enough to make others aware that she had a male.
That she was his.
In a way.
Talon had expected her to attempt to cover it up, or to be flushed with embarrassment when they had met up with Kyter and the others at Underworld to go over the plan one last time.
Sherry had surprised him by brazenly walking into the nightclub in a low-cut black t-shirt that revealed more than it hid.
Including his mark.
Kyter had spotted it immediately, his golden eyes going dark and questioning her. Whatever look she had given him, it had been answer enough for the jaguar. He had backed off, not saying a word about it to her, or him.
Talon wished he had seen her face.
He wanted to know how she felt.
It plagued him as he paced in the quiet park, surrounded by nature and feeling her comforting touch. He breathed deep, stilled his thoughts and let nature wash over him, carrying away his worries and allowing him to focus again.
Nature had always soothed him like this, had always made him feel connected to something greater than himself, something beautiful and miraculous, and that he wasn’t alone.
Byron wasn’t bothered about whether he lived surrounded by a concrete city or lush greenery and wilderness. It bothered Talon though and he knew it bothered his other brother and sister.
He didn’t like the human cities, even hated the fae towns if he was honest.
This was his home.
The wild green realm of nature.
He purred, letting peace wash over him to carry his troubles away as he thought about the pride village and the lake beyond the forest surrounding it, and his rock, a large flat one that jutted out over the water, standing at least six foot above it. Gods, he loved to sunbathe on it in summer after a swim, staring across the lake to the mountains and the endless blue sky. He had defended it more than once in the early days after the pride had moved there, chasing off the males and making it clear it was his place. They had soon learned to keep away from it, even when he wasn’t around.
The image of that place filled his mind, chasing away the city park.
Sherry popped into it, bikini-clad and beautiful as she smiled and waved from the shallows, luring him to her.
Gods, he wanted to take her there.
He wanted her to make it her home too.
With him.
He kept his thoughts on that dream, using it to bolster his heart and give him strength.
It would get him through the next few hours away from her.
Hours that were already testing his strength, pushing him to the limit.
He used the desire to see her again to calm his fear and give him an objective, something tangible that he could work towards, a goal at the end of the dark road that lay ahead of him.
It wouldn’t be long now.
He lifted his head and scented the night, trying to discern the hour. It was cold, the heat of day dissipated at last, and the roads were getting quieter.
Soon.
It had to be soon.
His stomach flipped and he breathed through it, trying to expel his fear on each exhale.
Fear that pressed him to turn tail and run before Archangel could find him.
Talon clenched his fists and stood his ground against its assault, refusing to surrender to it. He had to do this. He needed his revenge and had to help the others, but it was bigger than him and it was bigger than them.
The information they found in this raid might help shine a light on a darker side of Archangel.
It might save his species, and the other shifters, fae and immortals by preparing them, making them aware of what the hunter organisation was up to behind the scenes.
That was worth the risk. It was worth reliving a nightmare.
By doing this, he could be helping everyone.
Movement off to his right had him tensing, muscles coiling tight in preparation. This was it. His animal side pushed and fur rippled over his skin. He gritted his teeth and held back the urge to shift, mastering it. It wasn’t going to happen.
Not only because he had to hold with tradition.
If he shifted, they were liable to use weapons against him.
Only Emelia was in on the plan, the rest of her group were none the wiser, and therefore an unknown variable he preferred to keep nice and calm, not panicked and on the defensive.
He hunkered down and rubbed at the wound on his side, irritating it with his short claws so it began to bleed again, and smeared the crimson over his stomach. If he looked as if he was already injured, there was a chance he would get through this without anyone shooting him.
The group halted and he focused his senses on them, picked out the female and four males just beyond her. His vision sharpened, the park becoming as bright as day around him, and his fangs lengthened as he called on his primal strength, his true nature.
Better make this look good.
Talon looked over his shoulder at them and bared his fangs in a silent warning to keep away.
Emelia stared at him through impassive green eyes, her face schooled to hide her emotions, a mask of calm and control. While the males at her back had chosen to pair black t-shirts with their black combat trousers and boots, she had opted for a long-sleeved roll-neck sweater. Her deep brown hair had been tied back into an all-business bun.
He kept his breathing slow and steady as he waited, his eyes fixed on her, monitoring her closely as his senses kept tabs on the others.
He wasn’t sure how this was going to go down.
Sable had neglected to mention that part.
Emelia slowly moved her left arm, holding it out at her side with her palm facing the others. A warning to stay back?
He glanced at the males, weak creatures, ones he could easily defeat in his current form and would butcher in his tiger one. He turned and rose to stand in one slow fluid motion, coming to face them.
A hiss of air was all the warning he had.
He flinched as a fierce sting pierced the left side of his chest and his eyes leaped there. Numbness swept across his pectoral and over his shoulder, crept down his arm and spread along his stomach. He blinked hard as fogginess invaded his head, slowing his thoughts, and stared at the tiny dart sticking out of his chest, white feathers bright in the slim moonlight.
Fuck.
On a growl, he tore it from his body, and tried to toss it away as he collapsed to his knees. It fell from his lax fingers and he struggled to focus on them, couldn’t make them obey him no matter how much he tried moving them. His hand fell to his knee, a weak growl escaping him as that cold numbness continued to spread across his body.
This wasn’t how he had imagined it going down.
He roared inside, mad with a need to shift and escape, but no matter how fiercely he battered the cage the drug formed in his body, he couldn’t break free of it. He slumped forwards and grunted as his cheek hit the dewy grass, his breath coming faster as panic mingled with the numbness to take hold of him.
It screamed how weak he was, how easily Archangel had overpowered him, and that he was now at their mercy.
And he had no reason to trust them.
He had foolishly expected to be lucid when they took him in, his faculties all in order.
Emelia did another complicated signal and her team broke up, two males circling one way and the others rounding him on the opposite side. She edged towards him, right hand still gripping the damned dart gun she had used on him. He weakly bared his fangs at it as it wobbled in and out of focus.
She twitched it upwards. Once. Twice. A third time.
A signal?
He fought the heaviness in his head and his body and managed to get his eyes off the gun and up to her face. Her lips moved silently, small motions that the others wouldn’t see in the slender light.
He frowned, struggling to make out what she was telling him on repeat. Three words. No. Two.
His head turned, and he waited for the darkness to swallow him as it had that awful night all those months ago, the last time he had been exposed to this drug after a long bloody fight and taken into captivity.
He shook that memory away, a pressing need to know what she was telling him as she closed in demanding his focus more.
Two words.
Play.
Dead.
The four males were suddenly on him.
Talon’s first instinct was to fight them with all the strength he had left.
He fought it and closed his eyes, gave a pathetic growl and did as the huntress had ordered.
He played dead.
Or at least, unconscious.
But he was aware of them as they shackled his hands behind his back. Aware of them as they hauled him onto his feet, struggling with his dead weight. Aware of them as they dragged him through the park and loaded him into the back of a van.
And aware of the fact the huntress had messed with the dosage of the drug in the dart, only giving him enough to weaken him rather than knock him out.
Maybe she was on his side after all.
He sat quietly with his head hanging forwards, bent over his legs, lolling around as the van manoeuvred through the city streets. Whenever he bumped into one of the males, they huffed and pushed him away. Weak little things. He wanted to snap their necks with his bare hands. Might have given in to that dark urge if his hands hadn’t been shackled behind his back.
Talon thought about the others who were waiting for him, and Sherry, using them to keep his head and their plan on track. If he lost it now, chances were he would wake in a cell heavily guarded and the others would be forced to fight when they mounted a rescue, placing them all in danger.
Sherry included.
That was enough to have his tiger side calming down, settling within him. Waiting.
It was a strange unnerving sensation.
He didn’t really do patient.
He had been doing it a lot since meeting Sherry.
She was changing him already.
He just hoped it was for the better, and it would help him win her.
The van hit a downwards slope and rounded a corner, and pulled to a halt.
Some fucker had the audacity to slap his left cheek, sending him swaying towards the male on his right. He growled and flicked his eyes open, glaring at the female.
“Good. He can walk himself.” She rose onto her feet and removed the dart gun from her thigh holster. “Don’t think about getting feisty.”
He continued to glare at her.
The males on either side of him grabbed his arms, pulled him onto his bare feet and shoved him towards the rear doors. The other two were waiting on the tarmac. One of the hunters behind him shoved him in the back and he dropped to the parking lot floor, landing silently.
“Think he always lands on his feet?” The male prodded him in his left shoulder, and he obediently walked forwards, fantasising about what he would do to the bastard if his hands had been free, not locked in solid reinforced restraints.
It would be bloody, and beautiful.
Another grinned at him. “We could take him to the roof and find out.”
Talon bared his fangs at the bastard and clenched his fists behind his back, his arms tensing as he tried to break the restraints.
“Settle down,” Emelia said, and he wasn’t sure whether she was speaking to him or her unit. “Since you’re all insisting on pissing me off… you can all piss off. Go on. It’s past knocking off time.”
One of the males, a fair-haired youth who looked as if he had zero experience in the field and would get eaten alive if he crossed a non-human without a team to back him up, looked back at her. “You’re sure? I mean… he’s a lot of guy to handle alone.”
“Are you saying for a woman to handle alone?” Emelia snapped, all warmth leaving her voice. “You want me to write that up in my report, Carter?”
He quickly shook his head.
“Jesus, you’re all fucking annoying. Get out of my sight before I write you all up for that little stunt you pulled the other night. I’m sure the higher ups would love to know about you visiting that fae bar to bet on the illegal fights in the basement.”
Carter’s face blanched. The other three looked as if they might piss in their pants.
Emelia was one fiery little female.
Talon liked her.
The four males hurried into the building ahead of him.
Emelia came up beside him, grabbed his right arm and huffed. “Men. Always doing something stupid and reckless.”
Now Talon felt certain she was talking about him.
He glanced down at her.
The troubled edge to her emerald gaze said he might be wrong again, or at least he might not be the only stupid and reckless male she knew.
“Move.” Emelia nudged him forwards and he obeyed, trudging through the plain metal door in the concrete wall of the underground parking facility.
She pulled on his arm before he could shoulder the next door open, stopping him in the small space between them. He frowned down at her as she looked around, inspecting all the corners of the ceiling and then closing the door to the car park, shutting them in.
“Hold still.” She opened the pocket on her left thigh, pulled out a syringe and tugged the plastic cover off with her teeth. He eyed the needle, every instinct screaming at him to knock it away. He must have tensed, because she paused with it close to his arm and looked up at him. “It’s an antidote… but you’ll need to act like you’re still shaking off the drug.”
He nodded and turned, offering his arm.
Stung like a bitch when she stabbed him with it, but the relief was instant, the haze lifting from his mind and strength returning to his body.
Emelia capped the needle again and slipped it back into her pocket. “Sable owes me for this.”
And he owed them both.
She pulled down a sharp breath, exhaled it and sucked down another before taking hold of his arm again. He could feel her shaking, but she did well to hide the tremble as she opened the door and pushed him through it. He staggered for effect and weakly growled at a passing pair of humans dressed in white clothing.
“Fucking torturers,” he slurred in their direction and they both gave him a wide berth.
“Try to keep it more under control,” the male said to Emelia.
She nodded and shoved him again, and Talon wanted to rip the shit out of the bastard with his claws.
It?
Like fuck he was an it. He was more male than that pathetic bastard would ever be.
He shot her a black look. She hit him with one in return and pushed him harder.
“Try to remember who’s helping you here, Buddy,” she muttered and then in a louder voice added, “Keep moving or I’ll hit you again.”
He growled and stumbled forwards, finding it hard to play the role of a weak little cub now that his head was clear and his hunger to find the others and deal Archangel a blow was rising, seizing hold of him.
They reached the main cellblock and he staggered to his right, trying to lead the way to the service lift he had used to escape.
Emelia pushed him in that direction, fielding a few questioning looks from several hunters as they passed her by with other prisoners. She glared at them all, her green eyes fierce and full of fire, a dare for them to speak to her. A few of them saluted, revealing the female was above them. He supposed it made sense as they followed the white-washed corridor around a corner. Sable had mentioned Emelia was due to take over her squad.
The little human acted like a pro as she spotted the service lift ahead of them near a branch in the corridor. She struggled with him, pretending he was misbehaving, and shoved him against the wall next to the panel beside the lift doors.
A flicker of nerves showed in her eyes as she pressed the button and waited, keeping a watchful gaze on the people coming and going along the corridor. One of the science types slowed, a female with greying hair.
“You brought him in?” The female looked him over and he had a flashback of her standing outside his cell, watching him for the first few days he had been in their hands.
She had been the one responsible for deciding what course of study he had been subjected to, and had been responsible for all the tests and torture they had inflicted on Jayna.
He snarled at her through his emerging fangs.
“Keep back.” Emelia held her palm out in front of her, towards the other human, and pressed her other forearm against his chest. She pushed his back against the wall and held him there, her weight hardly anything, and definitely not enough to restrain him. He played along though. Emelia lowered her hand and reached for her gun. “He’s coming around quicker than we expected.”
The lift to his left pinged and the doors slid open.
For a heart-stopping moment, Talon thought the scientist would demand to know what Emelia was doing going down the service lift with him, how she knew about the secret facility, and would call others to take both of them into captivity.
The grey-haired female withdrew a small device from her pocket, swiped across the screen several times and then typed something.
When she was done, she looked up at Emelia.
“What are you waiting for? If he’s coming around, I want him contained as soon as possible.” The female pocketed her device, and relief swept through him, but it lasted only a second. “I’ve notified the others. We’ll be ready to continue our research on him before the hour is up. Well done, Commander Emelia.”
No.
He wasn’t going back into the cage.
Fur rippled over his skin and he launched forwards, knocking Emelia into the opposite wall. The scientist backed away, narrowly avoiding his fangs as he snapped at her.
“Damn it.” Emelia barrelled into him and he grunted as another hiss sounded and cold spread across his left side.
Talon staggered backwards, hit the wall and sagged against it, breathing hard as he fought the drug again and cursed himself for being so stupid and forcing Emelia’s hand.
Sound warbled in his ears as the corridor spun, and then he was moving, falling downwards. He shook his head, trying to clear it. The light around him dimmed as he was marched forwards, into a familiar gloom.
The facility.
Voices swam around him as he stumbled forwards, Emelia’s hands a constant pressure against his arm and back. Bile rose up his throat as he tried to breathe but kept catching the scent of blood, vomit and bodily fluids.
He couldn’t be back here.
He couldn’t.
He struggled but Emelia said something, lightly patted his back and guided him onwards, and he thought he caught a word in there.
One that brought light into the darkness of his heart and soothed his primal side.
Sherry.
Talon focused on her, conjuring an image of her in his mind. He could almost feel her, knew that she was close, and that meant the others were close too. He wasn’t alone this time. He had been an idiot, had forced Emelia’s hand so she’d had to drug him again, but everything would be alright.
He would escape this Hell again.
And this time, he wouldn’t be alone.
Familiar scents reached his nose as the gloom brightened to white and his vision started to clear, the fog in his head lifting with it as the remains of the antidote in his system went to work, purging the drug all over again.
The sickening whoosh of a glass panel lifting had his instincts firing again, and he fought Emelia as she pushed him into the white-walled cell he had called home over the last seven or eight months. She jerked on his arms as she unlocked his restraints and then backed off.
His knees gave out as the barrier dropped and he looked over his shoulder at the brunette huntress.
Her green eyes issued an apology and asked him to be patient at the same time.
He slowly dipped his chin, just enough for her to see that he understood and would somehow do as she had asked, but not enough that the people watching the feed from the cameras positioned around the cellblock would pick up on it.
The witch held in the cell opposite him, a diminutive female with platinum hair that faded to black, wearing a dull black dress that had seen better days, came to the front of her cell opposite him.
“Talon, what the hell were you thinking?”
She had an irritating little talent, one that the suppressors installed in the cells couldn’t quite negate.
She could read minds.
He shrugged, pushed on to his feet and moved to the glass wall of his cell. “Who said I was thinking at all, Aggy?”
She scowled at him.
It hadn’t taken him long to figure out that the way to get her to stop probing his head was to call her Aggy rather than her given name. She always quit poking around his thoughts in exchange for him calling her Agatha instead.
“Your funeral,” she muttered and walked over to the right wall of her cell, and gave it a hard kick. “Hey, Grognak… have you seen what cat just got dragged back in?”
The demon mercenary that Agatha had termed Grognak due to her inability to speak the demonic language, something which Talon had repeatedly picked her up on since she hated it when anyone shortened her name, grunted in response and muttered something.
Talon had figured out that his name wasn’t Grognak, and that Agatha called him it because she had a problem with demons in general. Most witches residing in the fae towns did, but Agatha’s issue with them seemed to run deeper than the usual clash between demons and witches over trade rights and the apparent stealing of business.
He had also discovered in one enlightening conversation that Grognak was a fictional barbarian in a video game.
Agatha apparently preferred playing those to socialising with other witches, all of whom she deemed boring and dull, and lacking the excitement and adventure she craved.
When he had mentioned leaving the fae town and finding some real adventure, she had clammed up and hadn’t spoken to him for almost a week. Apparently, leaving home was a definite no for her. He didn’t think it was because she lacked the courage either. He had seen her give Archangel hunters and those bastards they employed to torture captives with their studies absolute hell.
Something else was holding her back.
“I might have got caught on purpose. I have a plan.” Talon looked both ways along the corridor, and focused on the exit to his left.
Klay, the big shifter in the cell to his right, the one he was sure was a bear, let out a low whistle. “Let’s hear it then.”
He focused and frowned when he counted only three with his senses. “Where’s the wolf?”
Everyone tensed, and he sighed as he hung his head, not needing to hear them say it.
“He went out fighting… after he heard about Jayna… he just flipped when they tried to take him from his cell and attacked them. Managed to kill one of their hunters before they—” Agatha cut herself off.
Talon lifted his eyes, met hers and forced himself to keep looking into them as tears lined her dark lashes and pain shone in their lilac depths.
This was his fault.
He should have come for the others rather than escaping alone.
But what good would he have been to them?
He had been injured, weak from blood loss before he had even made it out of the secret facility. Getting out as quickly as possible had been imperative. He had been in no condition to fight his way through the hunters that would have come down on him if he had lingered long enough for someone to raise the alarm.
They would have had him overpowered and back in the cell in no time, and Jayna’s sacrifice would have been for nothing.
The demon said something. Talon liked to think it was complimentary, a sort of ‘don’t beat yourself up about it’, but it might have been derogatory. He only knew a smattering of words in the demon tongue, and he was doubting those since meeting the merc. The male hadn’t used any of them, and when Talon had attempted to speak with him, he had simply given Talon a disinterested look and moved off to the other side of his cell where Talon couldn’t see him.
“So I hate to break it to you… but you’re in a cell again and they’ve doubled the guard since your escape… I really don’t think you’re going to be escaping anytime soo—” Agatha fell deathly silent as a roar sounded above them, followed by the muffled grunts of humans.
Talon sharpened his senses, straining to hear through all the layers of stone, steel and wood.
“What’s happening?” Klay hissed and he felt the big bear move closer to him.
He shut him out and focused harder, closing his eyes to block out any distractions.
A familiar female voice. Dim, but it was up there.
And it wasn’t Emelia.
Another roar. Something broke, several hunters let out garbled cries, and the female shouted again.
Ordering the hunters to back off and hurling an insult at her foe.
A demon apparently.
Talon flicked his eyes open and grinned at Agatha, relief sweeping away all the doubts that had been trying to sink their poisoned teeth into him. “We’re getting out of here.”
She looked sceptical.
Until the lights suddenly went out, dropping the cellblock into pitch darkness. His eyes rapidly adjusted, revealing Agatha’s stunned expression.
Talon looked up to his right, at the camera mounted there, and his grin stretched wider. The red light was off. Someone had disabled it.
“Ready to get out of here?” he said.
“Fuck, yes,” Klay muttered, sounding more relieved than Talon felt. “Just tell me I get to rip the bastards a new arsehole on my way out.”
Demon merc laughed low at that, a sinister sound that said Klay would have to beat him to each hunter in order to bloody his claws.
This was going to get messy.
A shadowy figure appeared in front of his cell.
Flicked long black hair over her shoulder and curled a lip at the barrier between them.
“You may want to move back a little. Cavanaugh’s brother assures me this device has a narrow blast radius but I’ve never used one before.” Iolanthe had twisted the small black disc in her hands and stuck it to the glass wall before he had a chance to distance himself.
She teleported.
Talon hurled himself towards the back of the cell, hunkered down and covered his head with his arms.
The device detonated.
A percussion wave hit him and he grunted as his ears rang and the smell of smoke filled the room. A thousand tiny needles bit into his forearms and shins.
“Fuck,” he muttered and gritted his teeth as he emerged and saw all the pieces of glass sticking out of his skin. He plucked one out, tossed it aside and froze. “Agatha!”
He leaped to his feet and was standing in the corridor near her cell a heartbeat later, not feeling the pain in the soles of his bare feet as glass sliced into them. He waved his hand in front of him, clearing the smoke, his heart pounding as he searched for her with his senses and his eyes stinging as he tried to see if she was alright.
Those eyes slowly widened.
She stood in the middle of her cell, her hands stretched out in front of her and a shimmering pale purple-pink bubble surrounding her so she hovered a few inches from the ground.
Completely unharmed.
Her platinum-to-black hair floated around her shoulders as if she was under water and her lilac eyes shone with stardust, twinkling as she maintained the barrier with her magic.
Incredible.
“I think your friends disabled everything,” she said in a matter of fact tone and the bubble wobbled and disappeared with a faint pop, and her hair suddenly dropped to land on her shoulders as her feet floated to hit the ground.
He just stared at her. He had seen magic before, but never anything as useful as what she had performed.
Never anything defensive.
She kicked at the glass on the floor of her cell, pushing it aside as she made her way to him. When he didn’t stop staring at her in silence, she glared at him.
“Don’t give me that look. Now you know why I don’t go off looking for adventure. What good would this sort of magic be to me?”
True. If she specialised in magic that protected, she probably had very little experience of magic that was offensive. Attacking spells. Witches normally chose the offensive route, and for good reason. There were a lot of species who didn’t like them.
Odd considering those same species would visit a witch in a fae town whenever they required a spell or potion, or lotion for something.
Agatha took hold of his wrists, let her eyelids drop to half-mast and stared blankly at his chest. Her lilac eyes captivated him, distracting him from whatever she was doing as they sparkled, glowing in the darkness.
“Done,” she said just as another explosion rocked the cellblock and sent him swaying sideways.
He scowled in its direction, expecting to find Iolanthe there.
Bleu glared right back at him. “You are taking too long. I am not blowing my cover here because you cannot handle a few scratches.”
Talon bared his teeth. He wasn’t dawdling, and he hadn’t asked Agatha to heal him.
Another roar came from above.
“They’re making a bit of a show of it,” Iolanthe said right beside him and he tensed, his heart leaping into his throat.
She chuckled.
He scowled at her too, because he was damned if she was going to mention how she had got the jump on him. Elves. He was starting to dislike them. It wasn’t natural for a creature to just suddenly appear right beside someone. He preferred to be able to track everyone around him, accounting for them all so they couldn’t sneak up on him. Elves made that impossible.
“Sable and Thorne always make a bit of a show of it,” Bleu muttered. “I’ve seen them fight enough times. At least Archangel will buy it if it’s violent and a little bloody. Thorne is meant to be playing the role of a demon mate intent on bending his female to his will and forcing her away from Archangel in order to pop little demon heirs for him after all.”
The way his expression soured at that said that Bleu wasn’t in the market for heirs of his own anytime soon.
Talon doubted that Sable was either.
“We get to fight now,” Klay growled and Iolanthe looked the big brunet bear up and down.
“No.” She laid a hand on him before he could evade her and they both disappeared.
Klay was going to be pissed. Talon had to admit that even he was a little irritated. He had been gearing up to fight his way out of the building again, fantasising about taking out a few Archangel hunters along the way, and maybe seeing if he could get a peek at that room they kept under heavy guard.
Now he had the sinking feeling that escaping was going to be disappointingly easy.
And not at all bloody.
And he wasn’t going to get to satisfy his curiosity.
“There’s a room near the cage, I want to take a look at it.” Talon looked in that direction, and then back at Bleu.
The elf glanced along the corridor. “Are there other captives there? I only took out the power in this area.”
Meaning Bleu would have to take it out across the entire secret facility for Talon to get a look at the room beyond that door, and Bleu had made it clear during the meeting at Underworld that using his powers to kill the lights and cameras would be taxing on him.
Talon wanted to nod, just so Bleu would get him that look he wanted, but in the end forced himself to shake his head.
“I could go alone.” It was off plan, but the more he stood there thinking about that door, the more he needed to get a look.
“No way. Hunters will spot you, and I am not explaining to Sherry that curiosity got you killed.” Bleu huffed as he met his gaze. “Do not give me that look either. I am not helping you. I am sorry, Talon, but I have orders from on high not to expose myself or any elf involvement.”
Talon wanted to growl at that, but drew down a deep breath and crushed that urge, somehow found the strength to shake off his curiosity and let it go. Bleu was right. Escaping took priority, as did keeping the hunters unaware of what was happening. Hopefully Sherry and Emelia would find some information that explained what was beyond the door.
Bleu took hold of Agatha, who merely stared at him in abject fascination.
“Are you really an elf?” she said as they disappeared.
Iolanthe reappeared. “I’d better make this quick. We made Kyter stay on the roof to protect it and he’s just figured out it was a trick to keep him out of trouble.”
She grabbed the demon and teleported.
Leaving him alone.
For five seconds, the amount of time it took for Bleu to reappear and grab him.
A shiver went down his spine, lighting up his senses.
Sherry.
“Wait,” he snapped.
The elf paused and arched a black eyebrow at him. “If this is about that damned room again—”
“No… I need to find her… I need…” Talon interjected, his senses reaching out and searching for her. She was in the building now. He could feel that much. He just wasn’t sure where.
How far away was she?
Was she safe?
He needed to see her.
“You need to get to the roof.” Bleu’s grip on his wrist tightened, and then relaxed a notch as he sighed. “It will be risky… the lights are still on in the main building… but I can go.”
Talon wanted to say yes to that, to beg him to do it, but he forced himself to shake his head. He couldn’t ask the elf to risk exposing his people to Archangel, not when he had been kind enough to rescue him and his friends. The male’s hand was trembling against Talon’s wrist, and he could feel that he was weakening, that teleporting and using his psychic abilities to cut out the power to the secret facility had taken its toll on him.
After teleporting Talon to the roof and the others, Bleu probably wouldn’t have the strength left to both cut the power on the floor where Sherry was and teleport in and then out with her.
He would expose himself to Archangel, going against his orders and placing his species at risk of retaliation from the hunter organisation.
No. As much as he wanted Sherry safe in his arms, he couldn’t ask the elf to do it. He needed to think about the bigger picture, about keeping Archangel in the dark for as long as possible, unaware that the shifters, elves, demons and fae had been warned they were up to something.
“Just take me to the roof,” he said and Bleu nodded.
As darkness swept around him, Talon clung to the thread that connected him to Sherry, linking their hearts and telling him that she was safe right now.
She was strong.
Brave.
He had to trust that she could do this. He had to believe in that strength and her courage.
But if he felt a change in her emotions, even the slightest trickle of fear, then he was going back in.
They landed on the roof of the elegant sandstone building, in a shadowy corner behind a rumbling air-conditioning outlet. He glanced down into the courtyard far below, tracking the hunters moving around it, unaware of him and his friends, and what they had just done.
And what they were about to do.
His gaze shifted to the door across the roof from him.
He stared at it, his heart beginning a slow pound as he willed Sherry to hurry, to get all the information she could on Archangel and get out of there.
His limbs twitched, his animal side prowling just beneath his skin as he waited, losing patience, and he started pacing, desperately trying to work off some energy and give his tiger some release. Kyter’s steady gaze tracked him, filled with sympathy that said the jaguar knew what he was feeling, how he was slowly going crazy and it wouldn’t be long before he lost his grip on his primal instinct to protect Sherry.
When that happened, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.
He would shift and hunt her down.
He would go back into the lion’s den for her.
Even though he knew he wouldn’t come back out.