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"I guess you told me," Wynter said with a laugh. She slapped her palms on her knees.
"Okay, no more pity party. Let's get to writing!"
* * * *
Kaegan was perched on a branch outside Wynter's office, watching her as she worked. In
his raven form, he could keep tabs on her from the birch tree and had been doing so since his
release from prison a few weeks earlier. Unlike the demon, he could not manifest himself inside
the house in a mist of atoms.
The Nightwind had done so the day before but was prevented now from repeating the
trick. Both were being watched closely by the Shadowlords and Kaegan had no intention of
bending or breaking the rules of the contest. Any infraction regarding how he courted Wynter
would put him out of the running and would be dealt with harshly. The thought of being sent
back to prison made him shudder and the leaves around him quake.
"Don't let me see you here again," the Prime Reaper Viraidan Cree, head of security at
the prison had warned.
"No, milord!" he had sworn to the infamous Prime the first Reaper to set foot on Earth.
Kaegan had no intention of ever being remanded to Baybridge again. He hoped Azzin
had not told Wynter exactly where he'd been incarcerated since Baybridge was an institution for
the criminally insane and the only prison capable of holding otherworldly creatures who had
run afoul of human and paranormal laws.
The mere thought of Wynter knowing he'd been sent to the asylum sent a ripple of fear
down his spine. Finding out he had been interned in such a place would be a definite deal
breaker.
He fluttered his wings in the avian equivalent of a human man hunching his shoulders to
release the tension. It was getting late and he was hungry. He'd almost made his mind up to fly
away when he saw Wynter get up from her desk and come to the window. He froze, hoping
she'd notice him on the branch.
How many times over the centuries, he thought, as he stared at her face had he watched
this woman in her many reincarnations? Each time he had gone to her and taken her to mate not
long after her fortieth birthday. Why the goddess had set that particular time of her life, he
wasn't sure, but it was a rule set in stone. Not once in all those rebirths had she known the hand
of any other.
Until now.
The thought of other men touching what he considered his sent spirals of black rage
through Kaegan Cree. He had known, had felt, had endured every single liaison she had
experienced from her fortieth birthday until the night before when she had lain in the arms of the
demon.
Knowing, feeling, enduring Azzin's hands on her had ripped the heart from Kaegan's
chest just as he knew the Nightwind realized it would.
It had been bad enough with those mortal men who had seduced and later abandoned her.
He had wanted to kill each of them as he had Kory Kline, the co-worker at the newspaper where
she was working.
WINDS THROUGH TIME Charlotte Boyett-Compo 35
Kline. The sick bastard had followed her home one evening with the express purpose of
torturing and raping her. Kaegan had read it in his mind. Had he not intervened, the pervert
would have carried out his sadistic plan. Though the authorities had no idea what had happened
to the murdered man, the Shadowlords knew exactly what the Reaper had done. He had been
tried, found guilty and sentenced struggling violently against the incarceration for fear
something would happen to his beloved Wynter while he was unable to protect her.
"We will see no harm comes to her," High Lord Kaleb had sworn.
The Shadowlords had not pledged that Wynter would not be subjected to the whims of
men who would use then toss her aside. Men who would break her heart and leave her an old
maid with a cat as her only companion.
"I should have been with you all those years, lhiannon," he thought at her and saw her
eyes shift to the place where he was perched. He watched her smile.
"Hey, little buddy," he heard her say. "Aren't you a pretty boy?"
He cocked his head to one side knowing it would make her laugh and when she did, it
made his heart soar. He had always loved her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled when the
dimples in her cheeks appeared.
She watched him for a few moments as he preened for her, hopping along the branch to
amuse her. Her palm was splayed against the windowpane, her forehead resting on the cool
surface as she observed him. There was wistfulness in her eyes that bespoke the desire to be as
free and unencumbered as he. He could almost hear the sigh of regret as she turned from the
window.
"I love you," he thought at her. "With all my heart and all my being, I love you, and
always will."
Never could he allow the Nightwind to win her. Surely there were other McGregor [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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