Moonshadow (Moonshadow #1)

Between the distance and the deep shadows, she couldn’t make out many details of the newcomers. They conversed quickly in the area just inside the doors, then one ran outside again. She heard a distant shout, “Can’t sense a thing. We’re good!”

Several of the men looked her way curiously. She could identify Nikolas easily enough. His tall form and catlike grace were indisputable, as he moved through the men, bending over their hands. She knew what he was doing—he was casting the null spell—and she hoped she would have a little of the nail polish left when he was finished.

It was a good thing the land magic didn’t block magic as well as technology. Shifting to get more comfortable, she felt the Glock dig into the small of her back, but she didn’t move to set it aside.

Even though the gun was useless in the house, she wasn’t convinced that she was inside for the night. She was worried about Robin. He was expending so much energy on the storm, and even now, they had to be hunting for him.

After a lull of five to ten minutes, the men exploded into furious activity. They backed the lorry up to the house as close as they could without the engine cutting out. Then while it sat idling, they raced to unload the contents from the back, carrying heavy armloads of supplies into the front hall at a dead run.

Indirect light from the lorry’s headlights lent a sharp, slanting illumination to the scene, bleaching everything into black and white. Out the front double doors, she could see the outlines of the men’s figures working furiously in the driving rain. A couple of them gave her a nod in greeting as they came close, but nobody paused to talk. Talking could happen later.

She watched as stacks of supplies grew around her, everything from camping supplies to cases of bottled water, cans of food, boxes of pantry items, and stacks of weaponry. They even brought more fuel—cords of firewood, what looked like bottles of propane, and other things she couldn’t identify from where she sat. As large as the great hall was, it was beginning to resemble an overcrowded warehouse, especially with the Mini and Gawain’s Harley tucked against one wall.

When these men prepared for the possibility of a siege, they weren’t fooling around. She didn’t know if she was comforted by that or disturbed. The reality of their choices was beginning to hit home.

More quickly than she would have thought possible, they finished unloading the lorry. All told, she guessed it had taken them about forty minutes. The men converged again on the doorstep for a quick consult.

“I’ll get rid of the lorry,” Nikolas said. “Give me the keys. You all stay here and get dry.”

“No need, man,” one of the men said, holding up the keys to jingle them. “I got it.”

Nikolas turned to him. “Gawain, why don’t you take the bike and go with Ashe? You’ll both get back here faster that way.”

“You bet,” Gawain said.

Ashe strode outside, and Gawain ran his Harley out the front door. A few moments later, the lorry’s engine revved as it pulled away.

As she watched the exchange, her worry for Robin had grown. Where had the puck gone? How was he creating the storm, and why hadn’t he shown up by now? Pushing out of the armchair, she approached the group of men still standing on the doorstep just as one of them lit an oil lantern and held it high. As one, they turned to look at her.

Nikolas stepped to her side. “Gawain and Ashe are getting rid of the lorry on the other side of town. It shouldn’t take them more than an hour. We should be able to bar the doors well before midnight.”

She nodded as she studied the five tall strangers who were studying her with the same amount of curiosity. Like her, they were all soaked to the skin. There was a high probability that one of them would try to kill her.

Nikolas introduced them quickly, and one by one, they stepped forward to shake her hand. She received an impression of each one along with a flurry of names. Braden, Cael, Gareth, Rhys, Thorne, and Rowan.

All of them were taller than she was. Since their Power was muted with the null spell, she couldn’t get a sense of them magically, at least not yet, but every single one moved with the easy, predatory athleticism of an experienced warrior.

The last one, Rowan, was sex personified. His long dark hair fell in a wet tangle around a cynical, handsome face. He had a runner’s build, a sensual mouth, intelligent, brooding eyes, and a rock star’s innate charisma that she felt even through her exhaustion and the damp discomfort of her clothes.

His expression heated with interest as he lingered over shaking her hand.

“Thank you,” he said. “Seriously, for everything.”

“You’re welcome,” she told him. Color her crazy, and she could end up being wrong, but somehow she just knew this scamp wasn’t going to put his hands around her throat and try to choke her to death.

With a neat, decisive move, Nikolas cut between them. He slapped Rowan’s shoulder with a flattened hand, knocking the other man back a step. His hard voice carrying a warning, Nikolas said, “No.”

One corner of Rowan’s sexy mouth lifted in a grin as he looked at her around Nikolas. I could make you feel so damn good, his bedroom eyes said, while aloud, he drawled, “What do you mean, no? All I was doing was thanking her.”

This time using both hands, Nikolas knocked him back another step. “I said no.”

“All right, all right!” Laughing, Rowan held up his hands.

Was this merely discipline, or was Nikolas… actually jealous? Sophie couldn’t tell. All she knew was that she felt like smiling for the first time in hours. Hell, it felt like it had been days. She grinned at Rowan, who gave her a wink as Nikolas turned away from him.

When Nikolas glared at her, she tried to wipe the grin off her face, but she wasn’t fast enough.

What the righteous fuck, Sophie—no! he snapped telepathically. He looked genuinely infuriated as he growled aloud, “I’m putting my old-timey foot down.”

“Old-timey foot…?” one of the other men said blankly. Sophie hadn’t gotten all the names and faces sorted out, but she thought it might be Braden.

It really, truly could be jealousy. She probably shouldn’t feel so delighted since first of all that was insane. She and Rowan had barely exchanged five words together. And secondly, it was insulting.

What did Nikolas think, that she was going to instantly leap at one of his men for sex without even talking first, when they had just made love—had sex—themselves twice in the last twenty-four hours?

Rolling her eyes, she muttered under her breath at him, “You’re crazy,” and punctuated it with an emphatic nod.

For a moment Nikolas himself looked like he might be the one to choke her. Half amused, half angry, and totally exasperated, she stepped into his personal space and stood toe-to-toe with him, daring him silently with her eyebrows up to make good on the fierce warning stamped on his taut features. What are you going to do, Nik? Just, what?