She’d go to her death protecting the world.
He’d have hunted her down no matter what.
She’d raided his dreams every night since he’d first set eyes on her, to the point he woke up exhausted. His body searched for her when he was awake. Thankfully, she’d allowed him to mark her with his scent, though she hadn’t exactly realized what he’d been doing with the majik.
But why had the majik altered her aura from silver to gold?
Gold, silver or no aura, she was . . . exceptional, a fiery emerald you found tucked into a tight spot.
A gemstone that had to be lifted gently and held carefully, but when it glowed there was no equal.
He could accept lusting after a woman, but wanting more with any woman wouldn’t fit in his plans. Not with his unfinished witch doctor business.
But he’d be lying to himself if he called this intense desire for Evalle merely physical.
And if she knew how much he wanted her she’d run faster than a gazelle chased by a lion.
She tapped one hand against her thigh in a sign that she was churning mentally on something that aggravated her. “You never answered my question about this woman you’re after.”
Guess he’d have to give her something.
“My father met her when he went to South America to help remote tribes, sort of a Navajo missionary, if you will. He was a shaman, but he felt many in his tribe had abandoned the old ways and lost touch with their rituals. He wanted to help other tribes preserve their ways.”
“Why did he choose South America?”
Storm mentally picked through how much to share. “He had a friend who had started outreach-type programs for more primitive tribes to show them how to hold onto their culture while accepting aid to survive. My father decided to try it for six months, but he ended up staying. The Ashaninka welcomed him and treated him well . . . all but one. The woman I’m searching for repaid his kindness by stealing from him and causing his death.”
She’d tricked his father and stolen his soul, then killed him. When Storm had found his father’s cold body, he’d been out of his mind with wanting to find the killer. She’d used Storm’s grief to convince him she could show him the face of his father’s murderer.
She had, right before she’d taken control of Storm’s soul.
But he was more powerful than his father and had attacked her before she’d been able to turn him into her personal demon. She’d escaped, but he would find her.
How would Evalle react if I told her I had no soul?The few who’d known that about Storm back in South America had called him a demon and tried to kill him.
“What did this woman steal?” Evalle asked.
“We both have secrets. I don’t push you to share yours,” he said as gently as possible. When Evalle nodded, he changed the subject. “Let’s find your three Alterants, then we’ll look for my target.”
“FourAlterants now that Tristan is free.”
“He might not make it back to a cage,” Storm added darkly.
She cut eyes loaded with warning at him. “He’s the only one who knows where the other three are hiding. You can’t kill him.”
Yet.Storm nodded his understanding, not his agreement.
He held Tristan responsible for the trouble Evalle was in with the Tribunal. Tristan clearly intended to use what she’d shared about her chance for freedom to cut his own deal with the Tribunal. Tristan should have thought about his future when he’d teamed up with the Kujoo.
Storm tracked Tristan’s scent up and down the tunnels. After a while he started thinking Tristan had taken precautions in case Evalle had found a way to follow his teleporting. By late afternoon Storm was sure of it. He literally hit a wall in tracking, a concrete one where Tristan’s trail ended, meaning he’d likely teleported away or to the other side.
Why had he spent the time leading them on a chase? Why hadn’t Tristan just teleported again in case he could have lost her at some point?
“That’s it for his scent,” Storm announced. “What do you want to do?”
She brushed loose hairs off her face with an absentminded move. Her sunglasses hid any signs of exhaustion in her eyes, but no matter how often he’d adjusted his speed for her, she’d limped and lagged behind most of the last hour.
She finally admitted, “I’m beat and hungry.”
