striding purposefully, towering over the blond female between them.
“Paenther!” the woman cried, smiling with such relief, Skye wondered if this were Paenther’s mate. “We were so worried.” But as she started forward, the largest of the men, a man with a commanding face and thick waves of golden hair, held her back.
“Lyon…” the blond complained.
“Easy, Kara. He’s caught a witch.”
Kara’s blue eyes swung to her, flaring with wariness and no small amount of hostility. The female pressed herself back against the big man as his arm went around her protectively.
This man was clearly the woman’s mate. Strangely, foolishly, Skye was glad.
The woman’s wary gaze returned to Paenther. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thank you, Radiant.”
Holding the woman against him, Lyon reached for Paenther and clasped arms with him, his expression deep and warm and moving. “I’m glad to have you back, B.P.”
The man beside him greeted Paenther in the same way. He said nothing, but the relief in his pale eyes was clear. When he released Paenther, he looked at her, his eyes going cold as a snowy day as he plucked at his goatee.
“She’s tugging at my animal.”
“And mine,” Lyon said, pinning her with a look sharp enough to cut before lifting his gaze to Paenther. “The Shaman’s on his way. I want her locked up until he gets here.”
“Agreed.”
“Evangeline and Genovia are on their way as well. I want everyone in that car cleared immediately.” Lyon’s gaze swung to Tighe. “You and Delaney can clear one another.”
Tighe grinned as he pulled the dark-haired woman against him, the dimpled smile turninghis hard face rakish as he visibly inhaled the scent of her hair. “If I have to.”
The woman elbowed him gently, making him laugh.
Lyon’s gaze swung to the man with the cold eyes. “Kougar, you and Jag keep an eye on Paenther until we know whether he’s still enthralled.” His gaze came back to Paenther. “Get rid of her cantric, if you haven’t already.”
Skye blanched. All Mage were implanted with the braided copper circle upon maturity. The cantric acted as a magic focuser and accelerator. Usually it was implanted deep in the flesh of the buttocks, where it wouldn’t be seen except by another Mage. But hers wasn’t in her buttocks.
“You can’t,” she said quietly.
“The hell we can’t.” Lyon turned on her with eyes filled with such venom she reared back, right into Paenther. His arm went around her middle, pulling her tight against his chest.
A deep, lion’s growl erupted from Lyon’s throat. “You’re ours now, witch, and we’ll do whatever we damn please. The death of one Mage won’t upset the balance of the natural world.” Lyon lifted that hard gaze to Paenther. “Lock her up. I’ll call you and Jag when the women get here. As soon as you’re cleared, we’ll meet in the war room.”
Paenther released her, took her arm again, and pulled her down the hall to a doorway, then down a long, long flight of stairs.
“Paenther.” She swallowed hard. “I’m not your enemy. If I were, I wouldn’t have helped you escape.”
His hand tightened around her upper arm. “I don’t want to hear it.” His voice was like ice.
“I hate Birik as much as you do. More! I hate him more.”
He jerked her, making her lose her balance, but his too-tight grip kept her from falling. “Silence.”
With a mounting feeling of dread, she did as he commanded. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he led her down a long passage lit by electric sconces hung on the walls. They walked past a dark room before Paenther led her into a large, well-lit room with ultramodern workout equipment at one end.
She wondered if they’d rigged up the exercise machinery to turn this into some kind of torture chamber, but Paenther never slowed as he pulled her through the large room until he reached a glass wall at the far end. Set into the glass was a door.
Paenther pushed her through
“Paenther!” the woman cried, smiling with such relief, Skye wondered if this were Paenther’s mate. “We were so worried.” But as she started forward, the largest of the men, a man with a commanding face and thick waves of golden hair, held her back.
“Lyon…” the blond complained.
“Easy, Kara. He’s caught a witch.”
Kara’s blue eyes swung to her, flaring with wariness and no small amount of hostility. The female pressed herself back against the big man as his arm went around her protectively.
This man was clearly the woman’s mate. Strangely, foolishly, Skye was glad.
The woman’s wary gaze returned to Paenther. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thank you, Radiant.”
Holding the woman against him, Lyon reached for Paenther and clasped arms with him, his expression deep and warm and moving. “I’m glad to have you back, B.P.”
The man beside him greeted Paenther in the same way. He said nothing, but the relief in his pale eyes was clear. When he released Paenther, he looked at her, his eyes going cold as a snowy day as he plucked at his goatee.
“She’s tugging at my animal.”
“And mine,” Lyon said, pinning her with a look sharp enough to cut before lifting his gaze to Paenther. “The Shaman’s on his way. I want her locked up until he gets here.”
“Agreed.”
“Evangeline and Genovia are on their way as well. I want everyone in that car cleared immediately.” Lyon’s gaze swung to Tighe. “You and Delaney can clear one another.”
Tighe grinned as he pulled the dark-haired woman against him, the dimpled smile turninghis hard face rakish as he visibly inhaled the scent of her hair. “If I have to.”
The woman elbowed him gently, making him laugh.
Lyon’s gaze swung to the man with the cold eyes. “Kougar, you and Jag keep an eye on Paenther until we know whether he’s still enthralled.” His gaze came back to Paenther. “Get rid of her cantric, if you haven’t already.”
Skye blanched. All Mage were implanted with the braided copper circle upon maturity. The cantric acted as a magic focuser and accelerator. Usually it was implanted deep in the flesh of the buttocks, where it wouldn’t be seen except by another Mage. But hers wasn’t in her buttocks.
“You can’t,” she said quietly.
“The hell we can’t.” Lyon turned on her with eyes filled with such venom she reared back, right into Paenther. His arm went around her middle, pulling her tight against his chest.
A deep, lion’s growl erupted from Lyon’s throat. “You’re ours now, witch, and we’ll do whatever we damn please. The death of one Mage won’t upset the balance of the natural world.” Lyon lifted that hard gaze to Paenther. “Lock her up. I’ll call you and Jag when the women get here. As soon as you’re cleared, we’ll meet in the war room.”
Paenther released her, took her arm again, and pulled her down the hall to a doorway, then down a long, long flight of stairs.
“Paenther.” She swallowed hard. “I’m not your enemy. If I were, I wouldn’t have helped you escape.”
His hand tightened around her upper arm. “I don’t want to hear it.” His voice was like ice.
“I hate Birik as much as you do. More! I hate him more.”
He jerked her, making her lose her balance, but his too-tight grip kept her from falling. “Silence.”
With a mounting feeling of dread, she did as he commanded. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he led her down a long passage lit by electric sconces hung on the walls. They walked past a dark room before Paenther led her into a large, well-lit room with ultramodern workout equipment at one end.
She wondered if they’d rigged up the exercise machinery to turn this into some kind of torture chamber, but Paenther never slowed as he pulled her through the large room until he reached a glass wall at the far end. Set into the glass was a door.
Paenther pushed her through
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