Claimed (4 page)

“And you just had to come find me.” Chiana reached Mick in a few short strides, leaving only inches between them. “You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat. It can happen to nosy partners, too.”

“And to people who leave their doors open.”

At the sound of a new voice, the trio whirled and looked into Creed’s harsh face. And at the barrel of a gun pointed directly at Chiana’s head.

“We need to talk,” he said, ignoring the men beside her.

“Oh, yeah?” she asked. “Why is that?”

“Because I’m here to save you. Or kill you. However it has to be.”

Chapter Three

“What the hell
are
you doing here, Davies?”

Mick stepped in front of Chiana, as if to protect her. Creed took his own step forward, meeting the challenge, and the tension in the room kicked up a notch.

“Taking care of this situation,” Creed said. “I’ve been invited.”

“There is no fucking situation.” Mick shoved Creed’s shoulder. “Get out of here and leave us alone.”

Creed glanced toward Chiana, taking in the woman’s agitation and Wil’s attempt to hold her back. One wrong move and things could get really ugly, really fast.

“He know?” he asked.

Wil shook his head.

“Know what?” Mick demanded.

“Nothing,” Creed replied. “Run along and play. Let the big boys handle things.”

Mick swore and swung. Creed anticipated the blow, sidestepping so Mick’s fist connected with nothing but air. He wouldn’t mind a good fight, but they didn’t have time for this. The woman was a time bomb, and if she exploded, hurt egos would be the least of their troubles.

“Stop. Immediately.”

Wil’s calm, authoritative voice slowed Mick. Before his anger could bring another swing, Wil was between them, cautioning them in a soft voice to control themselves.

“Look at her,” he urged. “Turn around and look at Chiana.”

She bounced on the balls of her feet, hands curled into tight fists, infected with Mick’s anger.

It seemed to Wil that she’d even changed physically. Her shoulders seemed slightly broader, her eyes were bluer, her honey-blond hair shone more brightly.

Maybe the new serum hadn’t worked. Maybe he hadn’t given her enough or given it too late. Or maybe the curse under which she lived was too strong for modern medicine to break.

“Hey, big boy.”

Her eyes fixed on Creed, and she was smiling. Wil suspected that in her present state, the animosity in the room brought her pleasure. He also knew that if something didn’t change right now, one or all of them would end up dead.

With her attention focused on the other man, he eased away, toward the table where his backpack lay. Maybe the dosage had been wrong. If he could slide another dose into her…

“Where you going, Dr. Carlyle?”

A chill ran down his spine as she drawled the words. She was still changing, and it most definitely wasn’t for the good. He abandoned the attempt to retrieve a syringe and spread his hands wide to show her he was no threat.

“I need to sit down,” he lied. “I’m feeling faint.”

She pointed toward the chair farthest from his pack.

“So sit. I’ll get to you as soon as I finish with these gentlemen.”

Wil lowered himself into the chair and turned his attention from Chiana to the men. Mick’s face was a study in confusion. Wil figured the man must feel the same fear at this change in his easy-going partner. He saw nothing but confidence in Creed, who stayed relaxed as Chiana strode closer to him.

She placed a hand on Creed’s shoulder, rising on her toes to whisper in his ear. Mick tensed; when she moved, he attempted to grab her. She growled like a feral creature, knocking him out of her way.

Her increasing strength alarmed Wil. Could he have so miscalculated that the new injections increased her natural tendency to hostility rather than decreased it? He looked with longing at his pack, which he’d prepared with great care. If he could grab the syringe that held the sedative and inject her…

He shoved his chair back and slid down the table, arm out, ready to grab the pack and run. Before he could touch the handle, Chiana was there, her body slamming onto his and pinning him down.

“Didn’t I tell you to behave?” she whispered in his ear. The words sent fear skittering down his spine as her hand closed around his throat.

“Leave him alone.”

Creed squatted, his face only inches from Chiana’s. Wil held his breath as the man’s big hand covered Chiana’s fingers and pulled them away, one by one. He let it out when Creed stood and brought Chiana with him. Still, Wil stayed where he was, back against the table, until he heard their footsteps moving away.

He eased closer to watch the tableau. Mick guarded the exit, watching the man he perceived as an enemy. The stranger had his arms wrapped around Chiana, holding her helpless against his chest. She began to struggle, biting at the arms that bound her, kicking at the legs behind her.

Across the room, Wil rummaged through his pack, found what he sought and ran over to the couple. When Chiana stilled long enough to scream at him to get the hell away, he jabbed the needle into her hip. Seconds later, she lolled unconscious in Creed’s arms.

“There.” Wil pointed toward a row of bunks across the room. Creed staggered slightly as he carried Chiana to a top bunk and dropped to sit on the one below her.

“Somebody want to tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Mick demanded.

“You deal with it,” Creed said.

Wil nodded and walked to the other side of the room. His voice was low as he talked to Mick, making the conversation private.

Not that Creed cared. The woman in the bed above him was a fellow agent, not an enemy. Supposed to be, anyway. Could be all that was changing faster than anyone could control.

“If you trust that bastard, you’re crazy.” Mick’s shout carried across the room. “The reason he’s on his own is that he nearly got his partner killed down in Haiti. Now you want me to hand mine over to him?”

Creed covered the space between them with lithe speed. Glowering at Mick, he said, “You’re way out of your league here, jackass. I don’t know what the good doctor here did or didn’t tell you, but I’ve got something to say. Leave. Now.”

Wil’s calmer voice echoed the suggestion more politely.

“Your close relationship makes you too protective,” he said. “She needs to be with someone who can make quick, unemotional decisions on her behalf.”

“So you’re choosing a man who’d sell his own mother to the devil over me.”

Ignoring the angry outburst, Wil turned Mick toward the door, still talking. Creed returned to Chiana’s bunk, watching her, watching the men. The doctor apparently had a golden tongue because after a few more moments of quiet talk, Mick calmed.

“I think I can get him out of here,” Wil said as he made one last check on Chiana. “I’m going to walk outside with him; I’ll be back once I’m sure he’s gone.”

Creed was startled when the man gave him a half-hug until he realized Wil was using the moment to slide something into his jacket pocket.

“You may need these,” he said softly.

Creed touched the syringes beneath the fabric.

“What is it?” he whispered back.

“Your last line of defense.”

Creed trusted the doc; almost every agent had worked with him at one time or another. He’d relied on the man himself to cure a damnable skin breakout caused by too much contact with troll saliva. Whatever the doc concocted, it healed the sores without a mark despite Creed’s inability to stop scratching.

Doc seemed to have a handle on keeping Chiana manageable. Still, they couldn’t stay here long. Yeah, Guardian might have the best medical facilities for someone like her, but he wasn’t letting go of her until he knew more about the woman and her bloodline. He’d hunted a wide variety of supernatural beings in his time, and bore the physical and mental scars from it. Chiana was something—someone—new.

His unexpected sympathy for her might make her the most dangerous of all.

* * * *

Rhori stood on the wide, grassy plain that had so recently been a killing field, his gaze fixed on the shimmering palace of the god Odin. The sounds of merriment rolled from the great hall Valhalla, piercing him with a longing and sorrow deeper than any he’d known before. He was a warrior. His place was inside that hall, toasting his fallen fellows with wine and boasting of his own great victories.

Instead, he lingered here, a casualty not only of battle but also of the fickle nature of a woman. Dying, he had looked into the eyes of the spear-bearing Valkyrie, begging her to send him to the palace of their deity. Her only answer had been a mournful “forgive me” before she vanished.

Only Odin himself could free him since he’d been betrayed by the traitorous Cryssa, she who traded immortality for the arms of mortal man. Rhori had prayed to his god of war, begging to be taken from this barrenness into paradise. And Odin had come, studying his spirit warrior with his one good eye.

“Do you still serve your master?” Odin’s voice was deceptively kind.

Rhori, who had fallen to his knees in respect, nodded and whispered, “I do, my lord.”

“Do this for me, then, and earn your place at my table,” he had said. “In the other world lives a woman who is my chosen. She roams the cities where men kill one another for causes far less noble than ours. Ride the streams of time and bring the maiden Chiana, daughter of Cryssa, to me, and I will take you in.”

Rhori had searched as Odin commanded, taking the shape of his god’s favored raven. After days of futility in that unfamiliar world, Rhori caught the scent of the Valkyrie and searched until he found her. Yet his weakness in that other world forced him to come back without the daughter, just as he had failed to keep Cryssa in this plane.

Odin had not been pleased.

“Why do you return without my Valkyrie?”

His voice boomed from within the mist, enveloping the plain and hiding Odin’s visage from him.

Shivering in fear, Rhori finally managed to speak.

“She was in my grasp, my lord, but I could do no more than mark her. Her blood holds something so unbearable that even the merest touch brings great agony.”

He extended his palms toward Odin to show the deep burns and peeling skin. The god stepped from the mist and, with one swipe of his long hand, sent Rhori tumbling across the grass.

“Coward,” Odin jeered, rage contorting his face. “You are no man of war. You cringe at the pain a true warrior would embrace.

“I will have the woman, and you will bring her to me. If you fail, prepare to suffer my wrath here in the middle land before you suffer the eternal torments of hell. Return to where she dwells, and this time, do not fail.”

With a great roar, Odin disappeared into the mist. The noise still ringing in his ears, Rhori fell to the ground, his arms curled around his body as his face contorted in despair.

Find the Valkyrie or be damned. Odin’s order had been clear.

Taking a deep breath, Rhori rose. The lands of the ugly time awaited him.

Chapter Four

Mick clapped a hand on Creed’s shoulder as Wil moved toward the door.

“Make sure she comes back to me in one piece,” he said in a tight voice.

Creed shrugged. “If I can. I don’t plan to kill her, but I may have to.”

“You bastard.”

Mick’s fist flew toward Creed, who grabbed his wrist and twisted hard. At Mick’s moan, Creed increased the pressure until the sound turned into a prolonged gasp of pain.

“Stay out of this. You don’t have the skills or the balls for what has to be done.”

“Stop it, both of you.” Wil’s voice, soft and urgent, dragged their attention to him. “You must calm down right now. Look at her.”

Chiana was awake and pacing the floor. She’d rolled up the sleeves of her tee and knotted the shirt beneath her breasts, revealing a flat and muscled stomach. Her pocketed pants were unsnapped to hang low on her hips, showing several inches of black satin and lace beneath them.

“She do this often?” Creed asked.

“Pull a strip tease?” Mick replied. “No. I’ve never seen her like this.”

“If she’s not usually so provocative,” Wil mused aloud, “why now? To entice one of you into sex, the ultimate act of living, to ward off the threat of death? To confirm control of the one thing uniquely hers, her body, because something out there is after her, and she can’t stop it?”

Creed sighed.

“I love philosophy, Doc, but not now.” He glanced at Mick. “I’m only saying this once, so listen close. Consider me an authority. I’ve seen a lot of bad shit in a lot of weird places.