Chapter 1
Escape
Present-day, Papakura, New Zealand
The dinner guests—a married couple and two single men—departed with smiles of thanks and waves. Nyree Wirihana stood in the doorway to her apartment and forced a return smile, despite the ticking time bomb standing at her side.
“See ya tomorrow.” Ari Steele, her live-in boyfriend, bid a cheery farewell to his friends before shutting the entrance door with a decisive click.
“I’ll stack the plates in the dishwasher,” Nyree murmured, every instinct shouting at her to retreat and to do it now. The fresh citrus and bold amber notes of Ari’s aftershave filled her nostrils, and she lengthened her steps to escape both the overpowering scent and him.
Unfortunately, Ari followed, and the fear simmering inside her ratcheted sharply upward.
“I told you I’d invited friends to dinner.” Ari’s tone hovered near a snarl. “You promised you’d be home in time to cook a dinner to impress.” Ari’s handsome face contorted into an ugly mask of fury.
Nyree took half a step back, trying to distance herself. Her breaths emerged in frantic pants. Audible gasps that signaled her panic. “I apologized.”
“You went to the pub with your friends,” he roared.
“We had one drink after work,” she tried to explain. “One drink to celebrate getting a new client. Your friends seemed to enjoy the meal,” she added, inwardly wincing. The wrong thing to say. “I’m truly sorry, Ari. The dinner slipped my mind.”
“I’ll give you sorry,” he snarled and raised his fists.
The next day, Nyree hunched in the bus seat and waited until the other passengers stood to exit before she gritted her teeth and forced her legs to carry her weight.
Every muscle protested, and a tic in her swollen jaw jolted to life to join the painful cacophony playing through her limbs.
The reek of body odor, followed by a cloud of designer perfume, had her holding her breath, and even that hurt.
She bit back a distressed cry, and breathing carefully through her mouth, shuffled down the aisle.
A teen girl bounded to her feet and shot into Nyree’s path, jostling her without apology.
Nyree hissed, and a grunt escaped her.
The nearby passengers sent her disinterested looks, averting their gazes when they spotted her swollen jaw. The judgy whispers commenced. She’d tried to disguise the bruises and had done reasonably well, but nothing hid the swelling.
Once she’d ridden out the wave of pain, she shuffled toward the front door. The driver pulled away from the stop before she reached the exit, and tears stung her eyes.
“Wait, driver,” she called.
Nyree’s voice emerged at a normal register, and by a miracle, the driver—a skinny white man with a bald patch at the back of his head—heard her and slowed.
“Sorry, love,” he said, glancing at her with an apology on his narrow face. “Thought everyone made it off.” His expression shifted once he spotted her injuries. “Take your time.”
Heat flooded her cheeks, even though kindness tinged his words. He was judging her, and the knowledge galled because he’d be right in his assumptions.
Finally, she exited the bus.
“Thank you, driver,” she called.
He smiled and, with a nod, guided the bus into the flow of traffic.
Nyree hitched her handbag over her shoulder, not bracing quickly enough for the renewed flash of pain.
It hit every nerve ending on the way to her ribs and chest. Once she arrived at work, she’d rest. Her receptionist job would be manageable as long as she didn’t move too fast. Besides, she’d used up her sick leave.
If she’d stayed home, holed up in her apartment, her sister would’ve blabbed to her mother about Nyree’s injuries.
Her mother would sympathize and side with Ari, believing his creditable lies of illness or clumsiness as usual—if she bothered to question him.
Her mother’s view came from her background and life experience, while Ari had hit upon the perfect strategy to undermine Nyree in her parent’s and sister’s eyes.
Manipulation and charm.
Her parent would blame Nyree for not keeping a clean house and providing delicious meals.
It was a small thing, she’d lecture Nyree.
A tiny service for her man. When were they going to marry?
Living together was a sin, and each week the church ladies asked if her daughter and her fiancé had decided on a wedding date.
Ari wanted to marry, but Nyree kept fobbing him off.
Recently, he’d upped his demands to marry and start a family.
This relationship was hellish. If she agreed to wed Ari, she’d set herself up for constant punishment and perhaps death, all because she wanted to hide her taniwha heritage and keep her family safe.
Ari was handsome, successful, and used his charm as a weapon to draw in the unsuspecting. She’d fallen for his gambit, his seduction smooth and practiced. Extracting herself from the relationship was so much more challenging than succumbing to him.
Not even her flurry of thoughts, her regrets, her hope for the future cut through the thump, thump, thump of her injuries, and it took her twice as long to walk down busy Emery Street to reach the offices of George Taniwha & Son.
Once she arrived at the office building’s heavy double doors, she steeled herself to pull them open.
She almost cried when a stranger exited and held the door for her.
Nyree nodded her thanks, and even that sent a whiplash of pain through her muscles and bones.
As a taniwha, she healed faster than most humans, but this time Ari had done a fine job.
She’d go to a doctor, but imagining the pitying glances from patients and staff kept her away.
A wry laugh—a tad crazed—burst free as she pictured herself in the medical waiting room.
Immediately, she winced, and she rode out the darts of agony that reverberated down her body with stoicism.
Yep, from experience, she’d be fine in a day or two.
Nyree entered the elevator when it arrived, thankful to travel up to their third-floor office alone.
Her Uncle George and her cousin, Hone, wouldn’t believe the story she intended to tell—that she’d taken a corner too fast on her bicycle.
Normally, she healed overnight, or at least enough to avoid outright curiosity.
She’d grown skilled at hiding injuries, but not this time.
Too bad.
Ari had made it clear their relationship was private, and she couldn’t risk the consequences right now when her finances were low and escape was impossible.
The lift dinged as it reached Nyree’s floor, and she dragged in a rapid breath on hearing voices coming from the reception area.
Familiar voices.
Nyree closed her eyes briefly, then straightened her shoulders. The small action sent discomfort swooping across her chest and down her torso, almost taking her out at the knees.
A groan squeezed past her clenched teeth, and the voices ceased.
“Nyree?”
An instant later, Jack Sullivan, one of her uncle’s investigators, poked his head around the corner. His black brows squeezed together, and he cursed.
His wife, Emma—another investigator—appeared beside him and her blue eyes shifted to warrior-fierce.
Nyree forced herself to smile and keep walking toward them. Her cousin, Hone, appeared next, then her Uncle George and Manu Taniwha, another cousin, and the dragon in charge of the local tribe.
Manu spoke first, glaring at her with his deep brown eyes. “Who did this?”
Nyree opened her mouth to recite the lie she’d prepared before her mind came to a screeching halt. This was idiotic.
It was crazy to accept this as her life.
She was an intelligent woman with a job she loved and people who cared for her. Ari had been vital to her once, but each time he’d hit her, that love had died. She’d wanted to unleash her taniwha but hadn’t because to do so would put her friends and family—everyone she loved—in danger.
“Nyree,” Manu said, his voice deep and compelling. “I’m waiting.”
Nyree inhaled and groaned at the automatic tightening of abused muscles. Lord, it hurt to breathe, to smile, to expect her body to do anything normal.
Emma stepped forward and took charge. “It’s time for morning tea,” she said, sweeping a lock of brown hair away from her face. “Jack, make the coffee. Manu, you can help him.”
Four sets of male gazes fixed on Emma before they swung back to Nyree.
Without another word, the men dispersed, letting Emma boss them around. Her Uncle George returned to his office while the three younger men disappeared into the lunchroom. Doors clicked shut, silence fell, and Emma closed the distance between her and Nyree.
“Come and sit,” Emma said, gesturing at a black leather two-seater opposite the reception desk. “Before you topple on your arse. You’re shaking.”
Nyree glanced down in surprise, shocked to see Emma spoke the truth. She was trembling like a leaf in a breeze. Nyree let Emma guide her to a seat.
“You sit, and I’ll get us a cup of coffee. I won’t be long,” Emma promised.
Nyree gingerly lowered her body to the seat, another anguished groan squeezing free without her permission.
Lack of sleep hadn’t helped as she’d replayed the previous night.
She’d been late home from work and had forgotten Ari had invited his work friends for dinner.
She’d done her best with a scratch meal.
During dinner, Ari had sent her chiding glances, but she’d thought she’d done well and used her initiative.
She’d told Ari she’d had to work late, but he’d got it into his head that the wine he’d smelled on her when she’d walked in the door was because she’d spent time at a bar.
Not true.
Her Uncle George had poured them a glass of bubbly after they’d secured the contract from an important new client.
Her explanation hadn’t appeased Ari.
As soon as their guests had left, he’d started his accusations.