Andre flowed around the two men, fluid and breathtaking, no wasted motion whatsoever. Teagan felt as if she watched a brutal dance of death, primitive and savage. She shouldn’t have been caught up in the beauty of Andre’s every move. She should have been horrified—and terrified. She wasn’t.
There was no anger at all. He didn’t hurt Keith and Kirt out of a personal vendetta. They came after him and after his woman. It was a logical conclusion. At the same time, he could use them to keep the vampires from invading the village and murdering an innocent. She knew all that because she was still in Andre’s mind and she saw his strategy.
There was nobility in how Andre lived his life. He had honor and integrity. She saw the warrior, the true warrior, willing to put his life on the line for others—always. He was a fierce fighter yet absolutely cool and calm. She moved through his mind and couldn’t find one single thing that might raise his blood pressure. No fear.
No fear. He had told her he hadn’t felt fear in centuries. Not since he was a seventeen-year-old boy. He hadn’t been exaggerating. He was telling a strict truth because he really didn’t feel fear. Not in battle. Not when he knew two vampires were coming—that he was luring them to him in order to keep them from a village of innocent men, women and children.
She could never have explained how she felt to anyone, not even her beloved grandmother, but the moment she saw Andre in action, moving so fast, his body in motion, as graceful as any ballet dancer and as lethal as any tiger in the wild, she knew she would always love him. The moment she realized she had been the one to bring fear to him after so long on earth, there was no way to resist him.
She fell hard. She would always crave him. Always belong to him. Always, always love him. Maybe it was wrong to be so madly in love with him, when he was killing someone, but it was the sheer poetry of it. She couldn’t take her eyes from him. She almost didn’t see the two men staggering around, or the blood running down their necks while Andre stood to one side, not looking at them, but keeping his attention on their surroundings.
Deep inside the body of the owl, she suddenly felt a pull. A tuning. A discordant note out of place. There was harmony in nature and at that moment she realized she was always aware of it, aware there was music, a symphony, everywhere she went. She needed that symphony and she sought it out, climbing and hiking around the world so her body became part of nature’s orchestra.
Now, that jarring note hurt. Sickened her. She nearly shifted to her own form in order to press her hand to her stomach in an effort to fight the bile rising. She forced herself under control, but used the owl’s superior range of vision to look around her. She saw nothing out of place. Not one thing, but the note became jangled. Insistent. The owl went utterly still. A strange clicking noise, one with an offbeat pattern began in the trees surrounding them as if the branches were rubbing together in the wind. She knew better. That clicking was the drumbeat to the harsh, inharmonious notes that jarred in the beauty of the symphony nature created.
She pushed further into Andre’s mind, a gentle flow, conveying the information to him. He didn’t look her way, but she felt him stroke a caress through her mind.
My woman. Looking out for me.
She would have bitten her lip if she had one. The words. The tone. That caress. She shivered. He still took the time to make her know she was his and he was watching over her. She didn’t consider herself shy, but she couldn’t find the words to answer him back. When it came to relationships, she didn’t have the first clue, only that she was determined to have his back. She wanted him to know that. To feel it, just the way he made her know he would be there for her under any circumstances.
The branch the owl rested on shivered. Teagan’s stomach did a somersault, and not in a good way. The large, very thick trunk shuddered. Sickness spread through the tree. She felt it—disease—as if some mutant parasite had entered through the roots and moved through the veins and arteries of the tree, spreading a dark acid through the sap. Branches trembled. Shuddered. A few leaves curled on the lower branches.
Now the note became several. The clacking noise continued, providing a jarring beat behind the malevolent notes. The musical symphony of the night—of the mountain itself—changed into something altogether different. Teagan tuned herself to the notes, separating the sounds until she knew there were two of the undead stalking the night. Now she simply had to trace the path back to them.
Do not.
She winced. That was nothing less than a command. Seriously, Andre, I can help. Kirt and Keith may be bleeding profusely, but they’re still alive and they could be dangerous to you. I can find the vampires and tell you exactly where they are.
She ignored his warning, because it was the only thing she could do to help him. It might have sounded like she was joking when she told him he could handle the undead, but there was no way she was getting close to one of those creatures. Well, not unless it was a dire emergency.
Teagan stretched her senses, allowing them to flow out of her, listening to the music in her body. To the tone. To the . . .
Everything in her stilled. Inside the owl she went rigid. Paralyzed. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t reach out to Andre, let alone anyone else. Panic hit her hard. Something had taken over her mind. Shut her down. She couldn’t shift. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t warn Andre. The vampires had found her.
You are perfectly fine. Sit there quietly. The vampires have no idea of your existence and we are going to keep it that way.