N. Walters - Pride of the Lion

The Lady shivered, chilled all the way to her soul. It was strange for her to be cold. In all the years of her existence the temperature had never affected her.

“Lady.” The soft voice was followed by a gentle touch.

“John?”

“Yes.” A blanket was wrapped around her. “What have you done to yourself?”

What had she done? For a moment, all was blank. Then it returned in a rush. She’d shifted time. Only a few hours, but it had taken an enormous amount of energy, of power. Time was not under her jurisdiction, and her actions would definitely cause ripples in other planes of existence.

“Come. You must not stay here.” John lifted her until she was standing. She was so weak she leaned against him. “I’ll carry you.” He started to lift her, but she stopped him.

“I can manage.”

He was disgruntled but allowed her to walk, keeping his arm around her waist and lending her his strength. “What can I do to help you?”

Love flooded through her, pure and clear as a mountain stream. “You’ve already done more than enough. I just need to rest and recharge.” Again.

There was still another warrior waiting to be set free.

She wished she knew what was happening with Leander. She’d done all she could for him and his woman. The rest was up to him. She glanced up at the sky and sent what little power that remained inside her spiraling off in his direction.

When she swayed, John ignored her weak protests and lifted her into his arms. And she allowed it, having spent all her reserves.

“I have camp set up. You’ll rest and eat.”

She nodded, was too tired to speak any longer. The fight was not over and would get worse before it got better.

She prayed for Roric and Marko and the women who were now a part of them. She prayed for Stavros and Phoenix, fallen warriors lost in the battle. She prayed for Arand, still trapped and waiting. She prayed that Leander might yet live. His soul had not yet passed over, not wanting to leave the woman behind.

And she prayed for Mordecai and the dark path he’d taken.

Araminta awoke to a chill that gripped her bones and made her shiver uncontrollably. Why was she so cold? An uneasy feeling filled her and she wondered what had woken her. Something warm rubbed against her face and then butted against her nose. The action was followed by a grumbling purr. Percy .

She managed to pry open her eyes enough to create a thin slit of vision. Why was it so hard? Percy was staring at her, his green eyes filled with concern, or as concerned as Percy ever got. Maybe it was time for his feeding. Percy was always worried about being fed on time. Why was her mattress so lumpy and why had she gone to bed wearing her clothing?

Her eyes started to close, too heavy for her to keep open, but Percy let out another grumble and she forced them back open. “Okay, I’m awake.” Honestly, the cat thought he was the boss of her. He was probably right, but there was no need to let him know that.

It was difficult for her to open her eyes all the way, but she managed. She blinked and stared around her at the familiar trees and shrubs, at the swing in the corner and the fence just beyond. She was outside in her backyard. No wonder she was cold. It might be late May, but nights still got cool in North Dakota.

In a daze, she lay on the grass and wondered how she’d gotten here. At first, her memory was a blank, a chalkboard wiped clean. She frowned and tried again. Like a light switch being turned on, memory rushed back, images tumbling over one another. But there was enough for her to make sense of it, to remember.

Hades. The curse. Mordecai striking both of them with his sword. Leander falling and being pinned to the ground by Hades’ blade.

“Leander.” She cried his name and scrambled to her knees, ignoring the shaft of pain that shot through her head and the way her stomach roiled when she moved. Her mattress wasn’t lumpy. She’d been lying on him.

He was lying so still on the grass with his eyes closed. Dried blood coated his stomach, side and the pants he wore, but at least the bleeding seemed to have stopped. She wasn’t much better as blood coated her top and jeans. The traitor Mordecai had stabbed them both, leaving them to die.

She swallowed back the bile that momentarily lurched up from her stomach and took a deep breath to steady herself before she touched Leander’s face. His skin was like ice. Why was she still alive? She’d felt herself die, felt the darkness overtake her. She’d been so afraid of ending up in Hell, but yet here she was. And why didn’t her stomach hurt?

She yanked up her blood-soaked top and stared at her belly in disbelief. Instead of a gaping wound, there was a long reddish scar. What had happened?

“Leander.” She released her top and turned her attention back to him, patting his cheek. “Wake up.” If she was okay then he should be too. Right?

She remembered a light and a world filled with color. So many beautiful colors she knew she could never name them all. Was that heaven?

The man still wasn’t moving, so she shook him. “Stop this. You’re scaring me.” Screwing up her courage, she placed two fingers against his neck, searching for a pulse. Nothing.

Tears began to flood her eyes, spilling over and then flowing down her cheeks. “No. You can’t be dead.” She thumped her fist against his chest in anger. “Wake up. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

She swiped at her face and studied his side in the dim light that spilled out into the yard from her kitchen. Her whole house was still ablaze with lights, the back door wide open.

He couldn’t be dead. Not after all they’d been through. Not now when the curse was broken. And it was broken. If it wasn’t, Hades would still be here or they’d be locked away somewhere in his realm.

Maybe they were in Hell. Maybe her prison in Hell was to be beside Leander’s lifeless body for eternity, never able to wake him, always mourning what she had lost.

“No. I won’t stand for it. You hear me.” She grabbed his face between her hands, leaned down and kissed him. It worked in the fairy tales, so why not in real life? “True love’s kiss is supposed to break all curses. It has to bring you back to life.” She kissed him again, ignoring the fact that his lips were cool to the touch when they were always so warm.

She broke off the kiss and stared down at him, willing his eyes to open. “I love you. I love your lion too. Please, I understand that you can’t stay with me. I just want you to live. Please.”

Desperate now, she lowered her head to his chest and began to sob. Maybe she wasn’t destined to have a happy ending like the other women had. Other women. Hope jolted alive within her. Maybe that was the key.

Araminta jumped to her feet but hesitated, not wanting to leave him alone. She pinned Percy with a glare. “You stay with him.” As though the cat understood, he settled next to the large warrior and rested his head against one gigantic biceps.

Satisfied the cat would watch over him, she raced into the house, ignoring the scorched floors and walls, broken glass, ripped books and the shattered remains of her furniture. At least the demons were gone, their bodies turned to dust and returned to where they’d come from. Not having to deal with their bodies was a plus.

Where was her cell phone? Last she’d seen it, it was on the coffee table next to her computer. She shoved fallen bookshelves out the way and tossed aside sofa cushions. She only prayed the phone hadn’t been damaged in the fight. There. Under the chair was her computer, and right next to it was her phone. It must have gotten kicked there during the fight.

She dived for it and held it carefully in her hands. “Please work. Please work. Please work,” she chanted as she pressed the on button. The cell phone came to life and she breathed a sigh of relief.