Tracking the Tempest

And I really need to powder my nose, my bladder chimed, much to my annoyance. I was distracted enough by my need to pee that I shuffled right around a container corner without pausing to look first.



My progress was halted by a well-known wall o' man.



“We need to stop running into each other like this,” I croaked, my nose smushed into Anyan's leather jacket. As the familiar scent of lemon wax and cardamom washed over me, my knees gave and I started sliding to the ground. The barghest caught me, swearing softly as he steadied me on my feet. At the touch of his big hands, I felt a powerful, if inappropriate, desire to jump into his arms. I knew he'd carry me to safety, and I wanted safety—at that moment—more than I'd ever wanted anything else in my life. I was so not cut out for the role of action-adventure heroine.



I managed to control my urge to fling myself on him, but I did lean forward, settling myself against his solid bulk with a sigh. Anyan stiffened, obviously surprised. But then he softened, crouching down to wrap his arms around me in a rib-cracking hug. His power followed his arms, until I was blanketed in Anyan.



“By the gods, Jane, are you all right? You scared me senseless.”



Anyan's voice was rough but his hands were gentle as he eased them over my arms, down my waist, and then up and over my back. I knew he was just checking me for injury, but I reacted to his touch like a startled horse. My labored breathing eased, my still-frantically beating heart calmed beat by beat.



“I've lived for nearly three hundred and fifty years, woman. I've survived two wars. And yet you are going to be the death of me. Did Conleth hurt you?”



“No,” I mumbled into the barghest's shoulder before raising my face to meet his eyes. “But I think I hurt him.”



Anyan smiled at that, his aura of power pulsing around us, rubbing against me like giant affectionate cats.



“What did you do? You're totally drained.”



“I pulled out a can of whoopass, Anyan. Big, strong whoopass.” My knees buckled again, and Anyan swore.



“Next time, use half the whoopass,” he chided, holding me steady.



“I don't know how to use half,” I whined, trying to get my limbs to stop trembling. “It was either use a whole can of whoopass, or make sweet love to Conleth. I chose the whoopass.”



My bravado was short-lived, however, as my legs totally gave way. Anyan's face, which had gone from concerned to horrified when I'd said “make sweet love” and “Conleth” in the same sentence, went back to concerned as he held me on my feet till I'd recovered.



“At least I got away,” I reminded his worried frown. I didn't really want to be the death of him.



“That you did, Jane. Good girl,” he said, a hint of a smile peeking from behind that big, crooked nose.



I peered up at the barghest, my forehead wrinkling in consternation. I was about to remind him that, while I was a zygote by the standards of his people, by human standards I was no “girl.” But I lifted my chin, belligerently, at the very same time that he crouched down to run his hands over my legs. We were suddenly nose to nose, and his gray eyes were as wide as mine at our predicament.



I cleared my throat, pushing myself back from him.



“Is Ryu all right?”



“Yes,” Anyan said, crouching down the rest of the way to finish playing doctor. When he was satisfied I wasn't hurt, he stood back up to tower over me. “But he'll be a lot better when he knows you're safe. Let's go find the others.”



He took my hand to lead me away and I followed, trying to keep my legs steady. We walked and walked, meandering to and fro between the walls made by all the various containers. But Anyan's nose was twitching the whole time as he sniffed out our route. There was one pressing issue, however, that I couldn't wait any longer to address.



“Um, Anyan?”



“Yes?”



“Is there a bathroom?”



The barghest stopped. “What?”



“Is there a bathroom? I really have to pee.”



“You have got to be kidding me,” Anyan said, swinging around to stare at me like I was crazy.



“No, I'm not. I really have to pee. I drank, like, a whole liter of water, and when I get stressed, I always need to pee. Getting kidnapped is stressful. Really, really stressful.”



Anyan shook his head. “Jane, I don't even know where to begin. I'm trying to rescue you from a psychotic serial killer who is apparently intent on impregnating you. And you want to take a potty break.”



“I really have to go.”



The barghest closed his eyes, mumbling something to himself. I think he was counting to ten.



“Okay. There's no bathroom. Just go in one of the containers. Or behind one. Whatever.”



“Um, I'm really not very good at that.”



“At peeing?”



“At popping a squat. I tend to pee on myself. It's embarrassing.”



“Either pee, or don't pee. But make a decision. Before I fucking freak out.”



“Fine, jeez. What, do you never have to pee? Do they teach extreme bladder control at obedience school?” I shot back as I crept behind one of the containers and undid my pants.



“Jane, I am this close to returning you to Conleth.”



“Whatever,” I mumbled as I squatted down.



“I heard that.”



“Ew, don't listen, you pervert.”



All I got in response to that was a strangled sound. I rolled my eyes, finishing up behind the container, then stood up and put my clothes back to rights. “I was kidding, Anyan,” I said as I stepped out from where I had hidden myself…



… to see my savior dangling from the thick fist of Phaedra's spriggan.



“Oh, fuck,” I groaned, fear flooding my system with adrenaline.



“Yes, ‘fuck,’” murmured a silky voice in my ear. “ ‘Fuck' is exactly the word I was looking for.”



“Graeme,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut to try to control the panic that threatened to send me gibbering to the floor.



Hands grabbed my shoulders to pull me back, despite my desperate struggling, against the incubus's muscular chest.



“Little Jane,” he said, holding me against him with one viselike arm as he ran his other hand across my hips. “I knew I'd find some time alone with you.”



Graeme's fingers found their way between my legs, and I froze, my heart beating frantically. Anyan, meanwhile, wasn't faring much better. The huge man was being shaken by the neck like a rag doll by the nubbly gray giant. Fugwat was grinning like a little kid with a new toy. The kind of little kid who would soon be torturing the neighborhood pets.



I tried to pull on my power, but between my fear and my already depleted resources, it was completely unresponsive.



“None of that, little Jane,” my captor said, reaching up to squeeze my breast painfully. I hissed as he found my nipple to twist it with a vicious pinch. When my hiss became a whimper, he finally stopped, pulling me around to stare down into my face.



I tried to look brave, but the sight of his beautiful, soulless eyes totally freaked me out. I started struggling again, and I reached, desperately, for my depleted mojo. Graeme's reaction was swift and resolute.



His fist smashed into my left cheekbone, sending my head flying back, and with it any chance of me mounting an offensive. Graeme did not hit like a girl, and the pain was excruciating. I groaned as he hit me again, and then a third time, this time catching me right in the eye. Graeme paused for a second to smile at his handiwork and to watch as blood dripped from my previously split eyebrow down my face. He kissed me roughly, before sinking his teeth through my bottom lip. I squealed, crying salty tears that burned down my raw cheeks.



“I am going to love breaking you, little Jane,” the incubus purred, unleashing his emotional glamour. I felt his lust, and his rage, and his desire for my pain. And it was all tied up together in the big, sick package that was Graeme.



“I just adore your eyes,” he said, nuzzling my now bloody lips with his own. “They're so selkie… puts me in the mood for a good clubbing.”



I heard something crash behind me, and I prayed Anyan had gotten free of the spriggan. But before I could crane my neck to peer around, Graeme had lowered his mouth to sink his teeth into my neck. I cried out, pain coursing through me.



“I thought you'd appreciate my love bites,” the incubus chuckled after his teeth released me. “Since you are fucking a sith,” he explained, turning to throw me, with all his strength, against the hard wall of a steel container. I went flying, my breath knocked out of me as I landed smack dab in the middle of the container's wall. I slid down, struggling to gasp in air, till I was lying at the base of the container. Then something deep inside my chest really started to hurt.



My left eye was swelling shut, but I could still see out of my right. Graeme was unbuckling his studded Ed Hardy belt and advancing toward me. I rolled into a fetal position, covering my face with my hands. The first blow caught me on the forearms, and the upraised studs tore through the delicate skin of my forearms. The second was aimed at my thigh, bruising me through the thick denim of my jeans. I waited, crying in pain, for him to land a third.