Behind the Veil 3
Chapter One
Was he done playing games now? Had the lying bastard finally decided to kill her?
Sheridan dove behind an outcropping of rocks, cursing and choking on a mouthful of snow and ice as she pushed herself to her knees and checked for damage. She wasn’t hurt, but the sight and smell of the charred material on her sleeve made her snarl. The jackass had ruined her favorite leather jacket. That was real enough.
“Son of a dragon-scaled bitch.” Fireballs? Seriously? If she’d been a heartbeat slower, she would have been hit head-on. She could have been killed.
That is the point. Are you surprised he is like the others? Did you believe him when he said he was willing to bring you to his home, to train you to fight and then asked nothing from you in return? A predator will appear beautiful as he asks for your trust. Demands it. But you will always be his prey. Haven’t you learned that by now?
She shook her head, refusing to agree with the oily voice experience had taught her only she could hear. She couldn’t listen to it. Even if the words sounded right. Sounded true.
Her grip tightened instinctively on her heavy staff as another explosion rattled the ground. That was too close.
She looked down at the weapon. It was decent enough for a big stick, she supposed. And once she’d gotten strong enough to hold the thing, to swing it, it had proven capable of inflicting a satisfying amount of damage in hand-to-hand. But unless this baby was fireproof, it wouldn’t do her much good today.
She couldn’t help wishing for her gun. It would even the playing field a bit. At least the playing field in her old, normal, human life where there were laws she could enforce with her badge and her gun. Where there were rules she had to follow and lines she could make sure no one crossed. That was the life she understood. The one without magic.
They’ve taken that away too. Robbed you of all that made you strong. All you knew.
“Shut up already,” she whispered harshly, swearing as she watched her breath rise in the frosty air to give her location away. They hadn’t taken everything yet. Her sanity might be in question, but she still had plenty of fight left. She still had strength enough to survive this.
She listened for the light crunch of sandaled feet on the icy ground. No easy task, since her enemy moved with a supernatural grace, not hindered by the cold the way she was. Not hindered by anything the way she was. Not human.
But you have rage to warm you and aid your focus. You could kill him before he kills you.
Yes. Before he killed her.
She swore she could hear his heartbeat over her own, slow and calm and confident. Bastard. He expects a victory. Her body tensed, ready to swing low and catch him off guard long enough to hold the dagger in her belt to his throat. To win. To shatter his serenity the way hers had been shattered over and over again this past year.
The sudden unexpected tingle up her spine made her gasp. A new arrival. She remembered that feeling. It only came with one particular Fae. The one she’d vowed never to speak to again.
Finn was here.
Her instincts, her body’s reactions, told her that he had to be. Her heart began to race for reasons that had nothing to do with the fight, her blood heating in spite of the cold.
Adrenaline and arousal. No. She wasn’t aroused. Didn’t have any desire to rub up against him like a cat until she was drowning in his scent. To finally know what it felt like to touch him. To taste him.
Her teeth dug into her lower lip, tasting the coppery tang of her own blood instead. It was anger. That was all she felt for him. It was the only thing she could allow herself to feel, and by far the safer emotion.
Sheridan growled. Usually fighting eased her sexual frustration, exhausting her until the only thing that ached were her muscles from overuse. But exhausted as she was, it was now all she could think about. Just because he was here.
Damn it.
“Dirty pool, Sparky,” she called out tauntingly, desperate for distraction. “Too afraid to fight me alone? If you needed reinforcements, you should have called on the Wolfman instead of Tinker Bell. You’d have better odds.”
“You sensed that?” The beautiful male voice floated over the rocks and down into her hiding place, sounding surprised and oddly pleased. “More importantly, you sensed who? I believe the sensation I’m now feeling is akin to parental pride. Among your many other gifts, including that amusing ability to trash-talk, we now know you have an internal Fae detector.”
He made a noise that sounded insultingly like a snicker. “And when you got here, you thought you had no special abilities.”
Pompous jerk. She held her staff defensively and walked around the large granite outcropping that had concealed her. Stopping a few feet away from her tormentor, she glared. “When I got here, I thought a lot of things.”
Was he done playing games now? Had the lying bastard finally decided to kill her?
Sheridan dove behind an outcropping of rocks, cursing and choking on a mouthful of snow and ice as she pushed herself to her knees and checked for damage. She wasn’t hurt, but the sight and smell of the charred material on her sleeve made her snarl. The jackass had ruined her favorite leather jacket. That was real enough.
“Son of a dragon-scaled bitch.” Fireballs? Seriously? If she’d been a heartbeat slower, she would have been hit head-on. She could have been killed.
That is the point. Are you surprised he is like the others? Did you believe him when he said he was willing to bring you to his home, to train you to fight and then asked nothing from you in return? A predator will appear beautiful as he asks for your trust. Demands it. But you will always be his prey. Haven’t you learned that by now?
She shook her head, refusing to agree with the oily voice experience had taught her only she could hear. She couldn’t listen to it. Even if the words sounded right. Sounded true.
Her grip tightened instinctively on her heavy staff as another explosion rattled the ground. That was too close.
She looked down at the weapon. It was decent enough for a big stick, she supposed. And once she’d gotten strong enough to hold the thing, to swing it, it had proven capable of inflicting a satisfying amount of damage in hand-to-hand. But unless this baby was fireproof, it wouldn’t do her much good today.
She couldn’t help wishing for her gun. It would even the playing field a bit. At least the playing field in her old, normal, human life where there were laws she could enforce with her badge and her gun. Where there were rules she had to follow and lines she could make sure no one crossed. That was the life she understood. The one without magic.
They’ve taken that away too. Robbed you of all that made you strong. All you knew.
“Shut up already,” she whispered harshly, swearing as she watched her breath rise in the frosty air to give her location away. They hadn’t taken everything yet. Her sanity might be in question, but she still had plenty of fight left. She still had strength enough to survive this.
She listened for the light crunch of sandaled feet on the icy ground. No easy task, since her enemy moved with a supernatural grace, not hindered by the cold the way she was. Not hindered by anything the way she was. Not human.
But you have rage to warm you and aid your focus. You could kill him before he kills you.
Yes. Before he killed her.
She swore she could hear his heartbeat over her own, slow and calm and confident. Bastard. He expects a victory. Her body tensed, ready to swing low and catch him off guard long enough to hold the dagger in her belt to his throat. To win. To shatter his serenity the way hers had been shattered over and over again this past year.
The sudden unexpected tingle up her spine made her gasp. A new arrival. She remembered that feeling. It only came with one particular Fae. The one she’d vowed never to speak to again.
Finn was here.
Her instincts, her body’s reactions, told her that he had to be. Her heart began to race for reasons that had nothing to do with the fight, her blood heating in spite of the cold.
Adrenaline and arousal. No. She wasn’t aroused. Didn’t have any desire to rub up against him like a cat until she was drowning in his scent. To finally know what it felt like to touch him. To taste him.
Her teeth dug into her lower lip, tasting the coppery tang of her own blood instead. It was anger. That was all she felt for him. It was the only thing she could allow herself to feel, and by far the safer emotion.
Sheridan growled. Usually fighting eased her sexual frustration, exhausting her until the only thing that ached were her muscles from overuse. But exhausted as she was, it was now all she could think about. Just because he was here.
Damn it.
“Dirty pool, Sparky,” she called out tauntingly, desperate for distraction. “Too afraid to fight me alone? If you needed reinforcements, you should have called on the Wolfman instead of Tinker Bell. You’d have better odds.”
“You sensed that?” The beautiful male voice floated over the rocks and down into her hiding place, sounding surprised and oddly pleased. “More importantly, you sensed who? I believe the sensation I’m now feeling is akin to parental pride. Among your many other gifts, including that amusing ability to trash-talk, we now know you have an internal Fae detector.”
He made a noise that sounded insultingly like a snicker. “And when you got here, you thought you had no special abilities.”
Pompous jerk. She held her staff defensively and walked around the large granite outcropping that had concealed her. Stopping a few feet away from her tormentor, she glared. “When I got here, I thought a lot of things.”