Storm's Fury Read online

  “So,” Tempest said, turning to Stormy, “what size are you?” Her voice was a mother’s kiss and a father’s loving hands.

  Stormy found herself wanting desperately to like Tempest. She wanted to talk to her and tell her things she’d never told a soul. Stormy moved to the window nearest her and away from Tempest. “I-I don’t know. The last time I bought clothing it was a medium sized T-shirt and a pair of jeans that I had to grow into.”

  Tempest’s head tilted to one side as her eyes roamed the length of Stormy’s body. “I’m not a seamstress, but you look like a size three or four to me.”

  “It’s possible.” Stormy tugged at the ends of the shirt she wore and shuffled her feet. “You don’t have to give me anything. I have money back at Fury’s place and I have clothes at my motel room. I just need to get to them.”

  “Well, while you’re here, you can’t walk around looking like that, now can you?”

  Stormy blushed. The images of exactly how she got to this state of undress played through her mind, and then she heard Fury’s proclamation, “I can read minds.” Anger rose within her, a small fire burning and growing with each tick of Father Time’s Casio. He lied to me. He used my memories of Iya to lure me into a false sense of security. I can’t believe I almost freaking fell for it.

  Stormy didn’t doubt he could read minds. No, that thought hadn’t crossed her mind because he could do so many other mysterious things she couldn’t explain. But the knowledge that he could read minds explained so much more.

  It has to be how he knew my first name. And his behemoth, Brutus. That’s how he knew where to find us. She growled, the small blaze burning within now an inferno. It’s how he knew exactly what to say to me while…when he was…he was…Her fists clenched and she bit down on her tongue to keep from screaming. That son of a whore!

  “Honey, you look like you’re ready to tear the head off the Sphinx.” Tempest rested a hand on Stormy’s shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Most of her anger receded immediately at the gentle tone of Tempest’s voice, leaving Stormy staring in near bafflement at the woman. “I need your help to get home.” She didn’t have a home. She didn’t have anyone waiting on her or missing her, but she couldn’t stay here with Fury and allow him to continue brainwashing her.

  “What’s wrong, did Fury hurt you?” Concern filled Tempest’s eyes. “Did he hurt you?” she asked again.

  Lie and say yes, you idiot. But she wasn’t a good liar. “No, but I don’t belong here with him. I need to go home. He kidnapped me.” She swallowed past the lump rising in her throat and the feeling of trepidation building within her. She tried to shake it off, to move past it to get to her end goal: to persuade Tempest to help her get back to civilization. “He’s been saying these crazy things. He tells me I’m not a prisoner, but yet when I try to leave, he won’t let me. He’s calling himself my chosen-mate?” Stormy grasped Tempest’s shoulders and shook her. “He’s insane. Please, please believe me, he’s crazy. You have to help me.”

  “Honey?”

  Stormy shook her head and backed away as if putting distance between them would shake the apprehension off. But it only grew, spreading out from her spine and into her arms and legs. Her head spun, her stomach lurched, and her palms grew cold and clammy. She forced herself to remain standing. “Please, can you help me? Will you help me? You stood up to him. You’re not afraid of him. Please, Tempest, help me.”

  “Are you afraid of him? Is that what you’re telling me?” Tempest’s eyes seemed to push through to her soul as she reiterated, “When you look into the core of who you are, Stormy, are you afraid of Fury?” A moment of silence passed as they stared at one another. “If you are, I’ll do everything I can to get you away from him.”

  Relief washed through Stormy. “You would help me?”

  “Of course, I would.” Tempest smiled at her, her bronze colored eyes shining. “Once upon a time, I was where you’re at now, sweetie. Confused, scared, uncertain. I definitely know how disconcerting this all can be.” Her smile faded as she asked again, “Deep within your heart of hearts, are you afraid of Fury?”

  Lie. Jesus, Stormy, just tell her he’s trying to brainwash you. Tell her he threatened to kill you if you tried to leave him. Say he threatened to beat you. Say he raped you, for heaven’s sake. Tell her something, idiot. Don’t just stand there looking stupid. But she couldn’t for the life of her make her lips move to lie or speak out against him. What’s wrong with me? All I have to say is he raped me. He…He…She couldn’t finish that thought. She couldn’t say it. Because she had given herself to him, not once but twice, and would have again had he not opened his big lying mouth.

  “No, I’m not afraid of him, but I don’t belong here. He kidnapped me. He took me from my life, my friends.” Stormy wanted to say family, but she didn’t have that anymore.

  “Has he explained any of this to you? About why you’re with him?”

  Stormy shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t belong here!”

  “Well, it seems like we girls have a lot to discuss, doesn’t it?”

  “There’s nothing to discuss.” Stormy pulled away from Tempest, ran her fingers through her hair, and finished, “Will you help me?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “It is that simp…” She trailed off as her hands went to her temples. Pain, so real she could taste it, flared to life like a light switch being flipped on. It was like the grip of the Reaper clawing at her, ripping through her shirt and into her muscles and tendons. It swam, moved within her like a tadpole burying itself in her mind. Lights, a million of them, flashed and dimmed, grew darker and then brightened to the point of blindness.

  Stormy dropped to her knees, a siren’s wail erupting from her as she clutched and tugged at her hair.

  Someone—Tempest?—was at her side, calling her name, but Stormy couldn’t move as the lights brightened and transformed. Like a broken old movie reel, images, a hundred images played before her.

  Rich trees surrounded a field of grass so vibrant and thick she was certain it would be soft as high-priced Indian woven carpet. Warm air twisted around her, dancing against her skin and tickling her senses.

  A man appeared at the far end of the field, his hair golden and his face the perfect depiction of every woman’s dream. He moved, walking toward her across the field, a predatory sneer on his face.

  She moved to take a step back, but another figure appeared directly in front of her, looming over her. His back straight and proud, his dark hair tied at the nape of his neck.

  “Fury.”

  The scene moved, twisted and spun. Blood was everywhere. A fire blazed in the distance. She glanced from right to left, behind and before her, and then down. Her eyes came to rest on a motionless body lying in the center of the field. Her stomach twisted, her heart raced, and fear raced up and down her spine.

  The wind no longer blew. The noise from the crickets and birds vanished. The beauty of the field was gone—it was now a putrid wasteland. She drew closer to the body and then stopped. His shoulders, his broad back, the shine of his raven hair—

  “Fury!” Her eyes snapped open and the room came back into view. Her arms were reaching, her hands clutching at air. “Fury!” She pawed at the carpet beneath her. He’s hurt. God, he’s hurt. I have to save him. There’s so much blood—so much blood.

  A hand was on her shoulders, a gentle voice speaking, saying something that sounded like pure gibberish.

  The door behind her burst open, splintering off the hinges. Fury rolled in low, looking like a man bent on murder. A man followed behind him, standing only an inch or so taller than Fury.

  Fury knelt before her as she stared at him. That can’t have been a dream.

  She’d had feelings of despair before, but never like this. Stormy reached out, touched his face, his neck and then his hair. “You were dead,” she whispered as her hand drifted down the front of his shirt to his chest. “The oth
er man…he…There was so much blood. It was on the trees and weighed down the blades of grass.”

  “What is she talking about?” the man who entered with Fury asked, stepping up on her left side.

  She was surrounded by strangers, inside and out. Her heart rattled against her rib cage, her blood rushed through her veins, and her breathing labored as she continued to stare back at Fury in astonishment.

  He reached out and grasped her hand, the one resting over his racing heart. “Ambrosia, I’m right here.”

  “The blood?”

  “There is no blood. It’s just you, me, Tempest, and Crul.” He held his hands out to his sides, and then grasped her hand within his again. “What happened?”

  She looked around, her eyes coming to rest on Tempest. “We were talking, I was asking you…” She trailed off, her attention going from Tempest to Fury to Crul, who towered over her. Stormy looked away and pushed to her feet. In the very next breath, she turned and bolted from the room.

  Stormy barreled down the hall, nothing but the sound of air rushing from her lungs and her feet pounding against the floor as her company. She rounded one corner and then another, knocked over a lamp, and stubbed her toe against the corner of a table, but she didn’t allow it to slow her down. Her track continued until she collided with something immovable and warm.

  Hands flailing, she reached out clawing at the thing in a fit of rage and desperation. She needed to escape, to get away. If she didn’t, what sanity she had left would be taken from her. Fury would succeed in brainwashing her.

  A hand came down on her shoulder, another around her waist, and cool air rushed over her as her stomach lurched.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fury came to an abrupt stop near the front door. “She couldn’t have gotten out the damn house without me knowing.” He ran his hand down his face in exasperation. He’d given her a few seconds, maybe a moment longer, but he was certain he hadn’t heard a door open or close, nor did he sense anything out of the ordinary. “She couldn’t have just vanished into thin fucking air.”

  “Are you sure she has the mark?” Crul came to a stop a few feet from Fury.

  “Would I be standing here if I weren’t?” Unlike Tempest’s ankh birthmark, which was on the inside of her right ankle for everyone to view, Ambrosia’s was located obtrusively. He had licked it, suckled it, and reveled in the sight of it.

  “Where in Anubis’s black hell could she have gone?” He tried reaching for her mentally, but all he found was darkness. It was like something or someone was blocking her, or like they were blocking him. He was well accustomed to the feeling, given his time with Dr. Marstow. It was one of the reasons why his pack hadn’t been able to locate him and he couldn’t reach out to them.

  “Well, she’s not in the house. I’m certain of that,” Tempest said.

  Fury paced the length of the living room before stalking to the window. He was missing something important, of that he was certain. “How did she get out of the house without me knowing it?” He sighed and closed his eyes as he sent mental fingers through the house and out into the night once more, searching out any trace of Stormy. He couldn’t feel her. Hands shoved in his pockets, he scowled out the window.

  “Why haven’t you explained what’s happening to her in more detail, Fury?” Tempest rested a gentle hand on his bicep. “Talking to her for the short amount of time I did, it seems she’s more confused and scared of the things she doesn’t know than of you and what you can do.”

  “I was trying to wait.”

  “While I applaud you for trying to have patience with her, I think in this case, not being forthcoming with her from the beginning has had an adverse effect. I think she wants to belong somewhere, maybe even with you…for whatever the reason.”

  “Well, that’s good to know, Sister-kin. The moment I find her, I’ll be sure to spill my guts.” He tried not to sound facetious, but he knew he failed miserably.

  Oh, you’ll do more than that. The voice and any connection to it were there and gone within a fraction of a heartbeat, but Fury knew the owner.

  He turned from the window to face Crul. “Terroar has her.”

  “What? How?” Tempest asked, her hand going to her throat.

  Crul turned from Tempest to him, his brows drawn. “How do you know?”

  “He linked with me. It was quick, but it was him, the bastard son of a bitch.”

  “That makes sense,” Crul stated as he paced the area between them. “Outside of his ability to control ice, his one power that none of us had was the ability to hide his aura and scent at will. But even so, there’s no way he could’ve gotten past the barrier or the dogs.”

  “Could he extend his ability to hide his aura to others?” Tempest linked her arm with Crul’s, halting his pacing.

  “I don’t know, but he was working on it before he betrayed me,” Fury grumbled.

  “Okay, let’s assume he’s succeeded. That doesn’t explain how he got past the barrier,” Crul said.

  “Where’s Hatrid?” Fury looked from his brother to Tempest.

  “You can’t think he would give the barrier reducer to Terroar, can you?” She ran her manicured nails through her hair and sighed as she looked from Fury to Crul. “We’re family, for heaven’s sake. He wouldn’t have done that.”

  “Jealous men have been known to do much worse, sweetheart.” He brushed his lips over her brow and pulled her to his chest as he turned his attention back to Fury. “Hatrid isn’t thinking straight right now. Try locating him. If you find him and he’s with Terroar or Stormy, then we’ll have our answer.”

  “And if he’s not?” Fury crossed to the door.

  “Then he has not betrayed us.” Crul released Tempest and moved closer to Fury. “Whatever you do, keep the link between us open.”

  “Fury, please be careful and remember the things Stormy said. I think she had a vision. The way she reacted, I want to say it was the first real one she’s ever experienced.” She sidled up to Fury, brushed a kiss over his cheek, and added, “Promise me you’ll bring her and you back safe.”

  “If it’s Anubis’s wish, I will.”

  With a feral snarl, Stormy’s captor tossed her to the ground.

  She fell flat on her back, her head bouncing against packed dirt. Her stomach did a flip, and then another, and she rolled to her side clutching her middle.

  Only in my life would things actually go from horrible to worse, she thought, pushing to her knees. She glared around at her surroundings looking for the culprit—Fury, no doubt.

  A small amount of moonlight filtered in from an opening a few feet in front of her, but not enough to illuminate a damn thing.

  “I know you’re there,” she yelled, trying to sound as if fear wasn’t riding her like a jockey on a racehorse.

  Silence greeted her.

  “You son of a bitch. Do you think this will make me want to have anything to do with you?” She crawled to her left, only stopping when her hands met something cold, hard, and bumpy. Using it to pull herself up, she pressed her back against it and inched toward the small entrance.

  Her bare feet sank into something wet and gooey and she bit down hard on her lower lip. It was all she could do to keep from screaming as the ooze made a home between the toes of her right foot. She closed her eyes, tried to still her rampaging heart, and continued to the entrance that she had been certain was only a few feet from her. Now that she was moving, it appeared a million miles away.

  “Fury, this isn’t funny. If you wanted me gone, all you had to do was point me to the nearest road and call off your damn dogs, you prick.”

  There was a sound, a soft scratching. She froze as it grew louder, the source drawing closer. It was behind her, but not nearly as far as Stormy would have liked. Her head swiveled in hopes of seeking out the disturbance, but her eyes met only a darkness so black she swore she was staring into the gaping mouth of Hell.

  Stormy turned her attention back to the light and moved faste
r. Her big toe connected with something hard and she let out a stream of curses that would have made the captain of the U.S.S. Bataan blush. Pain shot up through her foot to her ankle, nearly bringing her to her knees. She fought it and instead tried to focus her attention on her surroundings.

  She could tell from the opening and from the feel of the wall behind her she was in a cave. Which meant there were bats—and bats scratched. But bats didn’t growl. Stormy swallowed and inched away from the wall as the scratching drew closer and the growls became a guttural demand that embedded itself in every pore of her body.

  Bears hide in caves. The realization sent a shiver racing down her spine.

  Stormy broke into a run. She chanced one last look over her shoulder as she bolted for the cave opening.

  Gleaming amber eyes froze her in her tracks.

  “What the hell?” She couldn’t make out the full body, but from the height of the eyes, it appeared to be more man than beast. Another snarl had her stumbling out into the cool night, but she didn’t dare turn her back on the man-thing before her. “Wh-What do you want?” She didn’t expect an answer, but it, and not Fury, had to be the reason why she was here instead of back at Tempest’s house.

  It moved within the stream of light so that its body was half in shadows. Onyx claws replaced what should have been toes. Its extremities were long and twitchy, the skin festering with pus-filled boils and open sores. The side of its neck was a gaping wound, black sludge oozing down over its shoulder to its bulky biceps. One long yellowed fang pierced the lower lip and protruded through the bottom of its jaw.

  The monster dropped into a crouch, its talons pawing at the dirt as it threw its head back and howled, drool trailing in a long wet streams out one side of its mouth.

  Her legs turned to noodles and every nerve in her body trembled at once as Stormy stared in disbelief at the creature clawing the ground at her. The thing turned cold, dead eyes on her and, in a voice born of a thousand demons from the most sadistic parts of Hell, snarled, “Blood.”

  She stumbled back, its tone washing over her like miasma, setting her hackles on edge and recreating every nightmare she’d ever had.