They were true equals in spirit…and form.
For only the love of a bonded pair triggered the female hippogryph’s latent ability to access her beast.
Pria had been ripped from him so soon after their mating they’d missed experiencing this miracle and physical manifestation of their bond. Another regret that stained his soul and conscience.
Nicolai reached out to touch the sleeping female’s smooth golden cheek, but at the last second his fingers curled in on themselves. The skin over his knuckles blanched white as his fist tightened then fell back to his side. The uncanny likeness sent chills skating over his skin.
This must be the woman Evander had taunted him about the previous night. The image he’d forced into Nico’s mind.
Curls the color of wet gold haloed her head, scattered like ropes of sunshine across the white pillow slip. Though pale from her ordeal, her skin gleamed like the sweetest caramel under the harsh fluorescent track lighting. He’d been fascinated by his bondmate’s skin. It reminded him of the fields of wheat stalks that danced in the breeze of their Greek homeland. Sorrow that had been dulled by the passing of time traversed the years and settled in his gut.
This time when he reached out, he didn’t pull back.
He traced the impudent slope of her nose, the lush curves of her mouth and, finally, the shallow indent in her chin. His touch lingered there even as he stared at her closed eyes.Would they be the same hue of precious amber?
Her lashes fluttered…then lifted. And he had his answer.
Tawny eyes clouded with drugs and pain stared up at him.
“Nico,” she murmured.
His hand dropped away and he reeled back, the low whisper of his name—the name only those closest to him used—was an electric bolt that crackled and spit over his skin.
“This way, detectives. She’s in trauma one,” a firm, feminine voice echoed from the other side of the drawn privacy curtain. “But I have to warn you. The patient has suffered a head injury. She may not be responsive at this time.”
“Will she be okay?” a solemn voice rumbled.
“She should be,” the woman Nicolai assumed was a doctor assured the detective. “We’ve run a few tests. CT and x-rays are negative so far, but we’re holding her overnight for observation due to lack of consciousness when they brought her in.”
Nicolai moved back from the gurney, his feet soundless over the waxed floor of the small bay. His gaze remained pinned to the bed and the female whose lashes had lowered once more. As the curtain swung to one side, revealing a plump dark-skinned physician in light-blue scrubs flanked by two men in dark suits, Nicolai cast his invisibility net.
The doctor tugged the heavy material back in place, strode to the head of the bed and checked the confusing machines that blinked and beeped. The taller of the men stood next to her and the other stationed himself across from his partner. An almost inaudible moan sounded from Tamar and Nicolai stiffened. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, his body vibrating with the force it required not to bolt across the floor and place himself between her and the men.
The beast inside him roared in outrage, demanded he cover and protect. The primal urge to rip the detectives away from her churned and whipped like the destructive tail of a tornado. The stinging pain in his palms jerked his attention down to his hands. Or claws. The tips of his fingers had elongated and curved into black-tipped talons that had punctured his skin. Blood seeped from the deep pricks.
He hadn’t experienced fear in a long, long time—not since he’d lost Pria. But he recognized the dark emotion immediately as it twisted and coiled inside his heart and the pounding organ pumped it into his blood stream.
“Ma’am,” the shorter, older detective said softly.
The woman who wore his dead bondmate’s face and drew such an overwhelming visceral reaction from his soul emitted another moan of pain. After a moment, she opened her eyes, blinked and regarded the people around her bed with a confused frown.
Nicolai backed farther into the corner, away from the gripping need to go to her. He didn’t understand this…this intuitive, fierce compulsion to defend. He was the Dimios—it was his job to protect his people, their laws, the secrecy of their existence. Yet that didn’t explain this longing to be by her side, to be a shield between her and the world.
“Ms. Ridgeway,” the physician said, her voice a soothing cadence, “my name is Dr. Brenda Conway. You’re at Grace Crossings Memorial.”
“Nico,” she whispered, turning her head to the side as if searching for him behind the detective. Her frown transformed into a wince at the movement and his beast snapped and snarled at the leash Nicolai had used to tether it. Panic flickered across her wan features before she returned her attention to the nurse and cops standing over her bed.