She caught her breath when she saw the gash in its side and the red smear of blood on its white feathers.
“Who would do such a thing?” she whispered in horror. She took off her scarf and tried to staunch the bleeding, amazed that the swan let her touch it. It must be dazed from the injury. The wound seemed to be scabbing up, so it must have been hurt for a while. There was blood on the ground: she could see the dark stain of it but had no idea how to guess the quantity.
She bit her lip and looked around, well aware that she had no transportation now. How could she help?
The big house. Lynsay recalled that Abigail, the housekeeper, had tended the swans while there had been any living on the pond. She would have a better chance of knowing what to do than Lynsay did.
The fork in the road just ahead led to the big house. It couldn’t take her twenty minutes to walk there, even carrying a swan. Abigail had often complained to her that she didn’t sleep until the wee hours of the morning, so Lynsay wouldn’t be disturbing her. And Lynsay had walked these woods all her life: she felt perfectly safe doing it alone at night.
Her mind made up, Lynsay turned off the car and locked it, then returned to the swan. It seemed to be waiting for her.
“I can take you up to the big house,” she explained, knowing it was silly to expect it to understand. Maybe the sound of her voice would be soothing. “There used to be swans living on the pond there so Abigail will know how to help you.”
The swan ruffled its feathers, apparently waiting.
Lynsay crouched down in front of it and lifted it into her arms. For all its size, it wasn’t that heavy, and its feathers were wonderfully soft. The swan laid its wings on her arms, such a gesture of trust that Lynsay was amazed. When she stood up, it twined its neck around hers. Lynsay felt the warm soft feathers where her scarf had been and saw the swan lay its beak on her chest, right over her heart. It sighed then, as if it felt safe. She smiled as she started to walk, carrying her burden with care.
The swan was right to trust her. She would take care of it as best she could.
Hadrian felt the firestorm and in the instant before Rania appeared, his heart thundered with anticipation. He’d returned her bichuwa to her so she could defend herself, knowing the risk, but instead of taking the opportunity to pay her debt to Maeve, she’d saved him. She’d taken back the kiss of death and it had to be because she knew the firestorm was right. She was his destined mate, his partner and his complement.
They were going to be an amazing team.
She manifested on the other side of his kitchen counter, the firestorm lit to brighter radiance, and he grinned. “Rania,” he whispered, savoring the sight of her, and her eyes widened.
“How do you know my name?” she asked with suspicion.
Balthasar shook his head and went to get a beer. “I’ll never get used to that,” he muttered and Alasdair chuckled.
Hadrian didn’t worry about his fellow Pyr. He concentrated on Rania. “Your mother told me, in the realm of the dead.” He frowned as he wondered at his own words. “How did I get from there to here? Did you do it?”
“I took back the kiss of death. I hadn’t even known it was possible, but I guessed and it worked.”
“It sounded plausible,” Balthasar said but Rania and Hadrian ignored him. “Any gift can be retrieved, and it makes sense that a curse could be undone by the creator...”
“Shut up,” Alasdair muttered. “Let’s go outside.”
“In the middle of the night?”
Alasdair gave Balthasar a hard look. “Yes. I need some fresh air.” He jerked his head toward Hadrian and Rania and Balthasar sighed. He put back his unopened beer and the two Pyr left.
Hadrian thought it was about time.
Rania moved to stand beside him and he felt taut with need. Her eyes were shining and she smiled slightly as she reached up to run her fingertips over his cheek. Her touch made him simmer and shiver at the same time. “The mark is gone now.”
“Why did you do it?” he asked. “My death should have fulfilled your bargain.”
She frowned, her gaze clinging to his. “But it was wrong,” she said with quiet heat. “You were in the realm of the dead because Maeve killed you. She wanted to cheat me and keep me in her service. You were right: I think that was her plan all along.”
“So you brought me back to do the dirty work yourself?” Hadrian didn’t really think that but he had to ask.
Rania, to his relief, shook her head. “I like you being alive.”
“That’s all?”
She opened her mouth and closed it again. “I like how you all work together, how you support each other. I’ve always been alone.” Her hand stayed on his shoulder, the white sparks of the firestorm dancing between them. She moved her hand, playing with them, driving Hadrian crazy. “Alasdair offered to sacrifice himself instead,” she said, then raised her gaze to his. He saw her awe. “I can’t even imagine anyone doing that for me.”
“I would,” he said immediately.
“Because I’m your mate?”
He nodded, watching the full import of that dawn upon her. She’d never had anyone love her, but he was going to teach her that she shouldn’t expect anything less. She was already learning rapidly.
He had to tease her then. “So, you came back to take Alasdair instead of me?”
“No!” Her frown deepened. “I don’t want to kill anybody, not for any reason, not anymore.”
“You’ve changed.”
“Yes. I don’t know how and I don’t know why...”
“I do. It was the firestorm. It cauterizes and it heals. It creates possibilities and offers a promise.”
She considered this, her gaze still fixed on the sparks beneath her fingers. “The other thing is that it was my fault that she came after you.” She looked up. “I told her about the gloves, before I knew I shouldn’t trust her.”
“She appeared in my studio with one of her warriors and Kade, too.” Hadrian frowned, half-remembering something important. It was elusive, though, and he couldn’t quite grasp the memory. “They destroyed the blades, too, and set the studio on fire. I was powerless, frozen, and could only watch. It was awful.”
“I can imagine.” She shivered in sympathy, as much a fan of controlling her fate as he was.
“Kade helped her instead of me,” Hadrian said with bitterness.
“I thought he was Pyr.”
“I think he’s loyal to her now. Who knows what his price was? I don’t think I want to.”
Rania nodded and swallowed. “You said my mother told you my name.” Hadrian nodded. “What was she like?”
He smiled down at her, dropping one hand to her waist and pulling her closer. The firestorm raged between them, and he caught his breath as his heart matched its pace to hers. “Like you. Feminine but strong. Her hair was more silver, but she had blue eyes like you. She was concerned for you.”
“Why?”
“She wants you to be happy.” He lifted his hand so the ring glinted in the light. “She said this was your father’s.”
“Really?”
“Really. She misses him.” He nodded. “I think they were very much in love. They’re mentioned in the book. He gave her the ring when she got pregnant with a daughter, his daughter.”