Chapter FIVE
–Kaia–
I HAD LONG prided myself on being good at figuring out people within minutes of meeting them, but Tréan proved tough all the way around.
Just when I thought he was getting a little too arrogant, he put my blade to his neck with me holding it and gave me permission to take his life.
Or so it appeared.
He might seem willing to forfeit his life with his hands clasped behind his back, but I’d already seen him fight.
Saw what he could do with magic.
Knew he was far more powerful than he let on.
So, even though he seemed to give me all the power right now, how could I trust that? I had known him less than an hour and already knew he was capable of deception, and playing games if it suited him.
What game was he playing now, then?
Whatever it was, I wasn’t stupid enough to think he would let me take him down.
More alarming? I don’t think I could if I wanted to.
Worse yet? Pretty sure I couldn’t do it even if he meant me harm, and that certain knowledge was more than a little unnerving.
He had some kind of hold over me I’d never felt before, and it grew stronger by the moment.
An addiction I didn’t much like, but there it was, simmering inside me like a warm, soothing balm on wounds I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in years.
Like a ray of life-giving sunshine on parts of my soul I’d long thought withered.
So instead of doing what most women in their right mind who’d been raised tough would do when faced with a man—warrior—who had claimed he owned her, I didn’t slice his throat.
Nope.
Despite knowing I was doing the opposite of what I should, I snagged the weapon he’d sheathed at his waist and tucked it alongside mine.
Sensing rather than seeing he kept a second blade in his boot, I crouched, kept my eyes locked with his, and ran my hand up under his pant leg until I found it and pulled it out.
I should have just sheathed it, but something about his warmth under my hand and, if I were to be honest, the position made me play this differently than I might have had he been anyone else.
Can you blame me? His muscular thighs were at eye level, along with a bulge that, yet again, didn’t let me down.
Just like it had been when I woke, I kept my eyes locked with his yet somehow saw the whole package at once, and it was impressive.
Enough so, I couldn’t help but let my gaze drop, then trail up him slowly with more appreciation than I meant to show until I stood again, locked eyes with his once more, perked my brows, and held his boot blade between us.
“Not a good way to build trust, Tréan,”
I said, frustrated to find my voice raspier than I would have liked.
My fault, though.
I’d turned myself on with a slow eye crawl that was supposed to disarm him but only left me wanting more.
“You’re right.
It’s not a good way to build trust.”
The corner of his mouth did that sexy little curl-up thing that was starting to work for me, along with a flare of wolven gold in his pale brown eyes.
Gorgeous eyes that likely made women fall to their knees in front of him far too often, willing to do just about anything to keep them locked on her.
“But then, you’re capable of the same lack of trust, are you not?”
he murmured, his voice like sensual sandpaper on an itch that needed scratching when he crouched and mimicked my actions, running his hand beneath one pant leg.
It took everything in me to keep from groaning when he pulled two blades from my boot.
One was bigger and more obvious.
The smaller of the two, my last-ditch effort blade, had been in a secret pocket.
Now he had them both, and I didn't much care even though I should.
Generally speaking, the more weapons I carried, the better, yet it seemed my tried-and-true rules didn't apply to him.
At least not according to the beast within me.
Maybe even my human half, too. Hard to know.
All I knew was the man had my mind going in circles, and it only got worse.
He let his gaze drop just like I’d let mine drop when disarming him and ran his large, warm hand up the back of my thigh, clearly appreciating every part of me, from my calves to my thighs to the curve of my hips to the cinch of my waist.
It was the flare of his pupils that got me the most, though, when he inhaled deeply, and his knowing gaze lingered on the juncture between my legs before he slowly stood.
“You keep mine,”
he murmured huskily, inhaling along my blades as if pulling in my scent.
His pupils flared again, and he rubbed his lips together just enough to let me know he imagined tasting me before sheathing my weapons.
“And I will keep yours.”
“Somehow, I doubt that’s a good idea,”
I whispered because my voice let me down.
“Somehow…”
I trailed off when the hilt of his blade warmed in my hand in a way that didn’t frighten me but was probably the only thing in this world that could drag my gaze from his face.
“What’s going on?”
I exclaimed, frowning when it morphed into a different dagger.
Though smaller now, it suddenly felt monstrous as the metal turned muted gold and symbols flared to life along its hilt and blade.
“Dinnae be frightened, child,”
Adlin said softly from the doorway where he had reappeared.
He wasn’t wearing a suit anymore but long white robes.
His white hair was longer, and his beard less groomed.
“’Tis just a blade finding its way along as they tend to do on occasion.”
“Huh?”
Not so much frightened but confused, I frowned from the blade with what appeared to be a mix of Viking and Celtic symbols, along with dragons, back to Adlin.
“I don’t understand.”
For the life of me, I couldn’t toss it aside or give it back to Tréan when it clearly possessed power I might not be able to handle.
Not yet.
Maybe never.
“’Tis a blade my good friends gave me,”
Tréan revealed, his voice soft now.
Gentle.
Awed, if I wasn't mistaken.
His accent was still Irish but different. More medieval sounding like Adlin’s. “My Viking friends gave it to me in thanks. ‘Tis a powerful talisman of protection.”
“That you stuck in your boot,”
I reminded dryly.
The golden light I swore had shimmered over the blade vanished, and the weight of the dagger felt more like the weight of the blades I’d kept in my boot.
If I didn’t know better, it had adjusted to me.
I turned my frown Tréan’s way. “If this blade’s so special, why did you have it in your boot?”
“I didn't.”
He shrugged.
“It was strapped to my back the whole time, but it seems to have relocated itself so you would finally see it.”
“Yeah, right,”
I replied slowly, wondering if he was going nuts along with me because I’d been going down a rabbit hole ever since hitting Route ninety-three on my bike when I began losing time.
And things had only gotten stranger since shifting.
“Whatever you say.”
“He’s not lying, Kaia,”
Storm said from beside Adlin.
“There was a sizeable sword attached to Tréan’s back when we got here.”
She shook her head.
“And it’s not there anymore.”
She gestured at the dagger in my hand and nodded.
“Though much smaller, that’s it.
One hundred percent, that’s it.”
Closing the distance, she didn’t try to take it from me but seemed drawn to it.
Tentative, she held her hand over it in awe.
“There’s so much power in it.”
Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply.
“Love in it.”
I was about to reply when Storm’s eyes snapped open to mine and welled with tears.
“Be careful, cousin.
Watch out!”
Honestly, I was used to Storm’s weird outbursts, so I thought nothing of it until a wind whipped up outside, and the old oak tree’s branches seemed to clatter against the entire side of the house in warning.
The energy around us changed in a way I couldn’t explain.
Electrified somehow.
“Go, Tréan,”
Adlin warned when my cell phone, of all things, rang from the coffee table beside the couch.
When had I put it there? Yet another mystery in my Post Shift How Did I Get Here story.
Adlin’s eyes shined light blue when he looked at Tréan.
He might sound level, but I still heard the roar in his voice via my inner beast. “I’ll keep Storm safe. Get Kaia out of here.”
I had no time to react or to protect Storm because that was my job, not theirs, before I was flung over a broad shoulder, and Tréan moved.
Not out the front or back door but magically into the dark woodland with a muttered chant under his breath.
Normally, I would kick, scream, or even drive my dagger into his back, but instead, something about the dark forest speckled by waning moonlight calmed me.
Comforted me.
So did Tréan in a way that made no sense, given how quickly he moved and how urgent his steps were.
When he finally stopped and lowered me, wrapping what smelled like the same fur I’d woken in earlier around me and cushioned me between him and a cold, hard, waist-high rock, I realized where we were.
He’d brought me to the Stonehenge through the woods.
“Shh,”
he whispered, pressing a warm finger to my lips when I tried to question him.
“Not yet, mo maité.”
Every instinct urged me to race back to Storm and protect her, but I couldn’t move.
Not an inch.
Could not see past the urgency in his words or touch.
Even his scent, because there was the slightest trace of worry to it, wasn’t there? No, that was wrong. Not just worry but fear. Maybe even terror. And it wasn’t for him but for me. He would do whatever it took to keep me safe. Tear anyone who meant me harm from limb to limb.
For that reason alone, I allowed Tréan to keep me cushioned between the cold, hard rock and his hot body.
Relaxed against him when hours before, my blade would have already been in his gut and my ass hightailing back to protect Storm.
But no, when the cold wind shifted, and he promised to keep me upwind, I tucked the blade he’d given me into the waist of my pants and let him keep me close.
Though tempted to bury my face against his chest and breathe in his scent, warmth, and safety, it went against my nature.
I didn’t look away in fear but faced things head-on, so I scanned my surroundings but couldn’t see much.
If anything, flickering moonlight waned, and darkness seemed more cloying.
Wind gusted east, west, north, and south.
If I had a compass, I bet it would spin like crazy because that’s how everything suddenly felt.
Upside down. Inside out. My ears popped like I was in a plane losing altitude too quickly, and the cold wind turned warm then cool but not as cold as it had been.
“I can’t see anything,”
I said, determined not to panic when everything went jet black.
So dark I wouldn’t know which way to hold my blade against incoming trouble or what direction Storm was in.
How did I get back to her? Was there a way? Or had I finally ended up in hell, and it was too late?
“We will get to the bottom of your conviction that you are destined to see the devil and go to hell,”
Tréan murmured close to my ear.
His hot breath against my skin couldn’t have aroused me at a more inappropriate time.
“But we will not get to the bottom of your hell issues yet, mo maité,”
he went on.
“Because right now, I need you to take my hand and trust me.
If I carry you again, we might be noticed, and now is not the time.”
I went to argue because I needed to understand what was happening, but the darkness fell away when his warm weapon-roughened hand cupped my cheek, and his golden eyes met mine in the darkness.
Soothed me in ways I had never been soothed.
In fact, they relaxed me so much that for a few moments in time, they made all the hard years fade away, leaving me in the safety of his gaze.
For a split second, his hair wasn’t short and black but long and white-blonde like some sort of gorgeous masculine angel.
A blink later, it was gone, but he was still there.
Present in a way that felt firmly grounded.
Real. Strong and here rather than fleeting like everything besides my cousins and uncle had been in life.
More trustworthy than anyone ever.
“Will you take my hand?”
he said, yet his mouth never moved.
His thoughts seemed to be mine, his voice echoing in my mind like it had before...like it had when he wasn’t a man but a wolf.
“I will,”
I replied, or had I thought it? Either way, I meant it.
I would take his hand and trust him.
At least for now.
Little did I expect it would lead me to things I never imagined possible.
More than that? Show me just how far down the rabbit hole I was now.
So far down, I might never get out.