Page 27 of Curses & Keys (Curses & Gods #1)

PHAEDRA

J ust when I think I’m getting comfortable with my choice to stay, the doubts start to pile up again. I shove my hand in my pocket and finger the gold key inside. It would be so easy to slip away and do this on my own. Safer for everyone else too.

Gatlin steps up beside me. “Still want a tour?” His gruff voice is softer than usual, and when I look up at him, there’s a warmth to his golden eyes that wasn’t there previously.

I hesitantly nod. “Sure.”

He stares at me for a second, then grasps my hand in his. “There’s not much more.” His muttered sentence makes me wonder if he’s talking to me or reassuring himself.

I stifle the laugh rising inside me.

At the top of the stairs, he waves a hand. “Three guest bedrooms with en suites.”

I pull my hand from his and wander from one to the other.

Each one is beautifully appointed and almost identical to the others.

Four bedrooms. A lot of space for one person.

When I return to the hallway, I notice the double doors at the end of the hall and glance at Gatlin with a raised eyebrow.

He gives me a curt nod, but there’s tension in his shoulders that makes me pause.

“I’m good,” I inform him, ignoring the doors and walking over to him.

He stares into my eyes for a second, then walks over and flings the doors open. “It’s a room. That’s it.” Standing at the threshold, he waits for me to join him.

I slowly walk past him and into the room.

Unlike the rest of the home, this room is full of dark earthy colors and masculine tones.

The deep brown paint drenching the walls and ceiling lends a dramatic appearance to the room that is only lightened by the sky outside the large floor to ceiling windows.

Heavy velvet drapes hang on each side as if waiting to shut out the world. Dark tufted leather chairs surround a massive fireplace, and overstuffed bookcases line the wall beside it. Unlike the neat shelves in the living room, these ones have books shoved into every nook and cranny.

I drift over to study their spines. Flight in the Modern Age.

Myths and Legends. Auto Repair. War Strategies.

There are a lot of books on war tactics and weapons, but that’s the only consistent theme.

Most of the topics vary across the large collection.

Worn spines tell me they’ve all been read, some several times.

My gaze finds his, trying to see past the gruff exterior to the layers underneath, but his expression remains blank as if he’s unwilling to let me in. Instead of deterring me, though, it makes me more curious.

Knowing it isn’t what he wants, I move past him to the rest of the room.

The massive four-poster bed on the far wall catches my eye.

Pillows and blankets are piled high in its center, and large velvet drapes are tied haphazardly to each post. It resembles a luxurious nest. I silently groan as the image of him lounging in that bed pops into my head.

The man obviously likes his creature comforts.

Slamming doors intrude on my naughty thoughts.

He rushes past me to the window and looks out, then swears loudly. “We’ve got company.” Hurrying to the bookcase, he trips a hidden lever, and it silently swings open, revealing a small room full of weapons.

Curious, I walk over to the window. Familiar men in camoflauge are pouring from several SUVs. “How the hell did they find us?”

Instead of answering, he slams a cartridge into a 9mm pistol. “Do you have a preference?” He waves a hand toward the wall of guns in front of him.

I quickly scan the choices. “I’ll take the Glocks. Think they’re around back too?” While he prepares our weapons, I run to one of the guest bedrooms to check and find men pouring into the small yard. I return to him.

Taking the guns and extra cartridges from him, I slide the ammunition in my back pockets and grip a Glock in each hand. “We’re surrounded. Tell me there’s another way out of here.”

He grunts. “Several. Do you have the key?” When I nod, he motions with his hand. “Follow me.” The sound of glass shattering below us makes his jaw clench in fury. “They’re going to fucking pay for that.” Stalking off, he strides to the staircase and peers down the stairs.

Smoke rises from the flash bombs. Holding my breath, I move to take a position on the other side, but he stops me and jerks his head toward the second set of stairs behind us.

I shake my head. His jaw tightens, but before he can say anything, he raises his arm and shoots the man coming up the stairs.

A barrage of fire is returned, and we both duck down behind the wall.

I point back and forth between him and me, silently telling him we’re in this together.

He glares at me in return, but I refuse to leave without him.

The gunfire continues for another minute, and his scowl gets darker and darker.

He knows we have to leave. His gaze flicks to mine, and he gives me a curt nod.

I mimic walking up the stairs with my fingers, and he jerks his head. The gunfire ceases for a second, and he crawls to the bottom step, then points up. Staying out of sight, I slide over to him.

He mouths “roof,” and I nod and take the stairs halfway up. Once I’m in the middle, I turn and raise my guns to provide him with cover as he follows me. We continue to frog leap each other until we reach the door at the top.

Instead of reaching for the knob, he taps on the keypad next to the doorframe. The sound of metal gates closing surprises me. Gunfire erupts, but it’s the ding of bullets ricocheting off metal that carries up the stairs.

“This should trap them in the house for a few minutes.”

I wince. “I’m sorry. I can see how much you love this place.”

His eyes glow golden in the dark. “It’s a house. It can be rebuilt.” He punches in a code, and the door opens. “Go. I’m right behind you.”

A bullet hits the doorframe above his head. A ferocious expression crosses his face, and he swiftly turns and kills the shooter. He takes a step down, but I grab onto his arm.

“We’re both going, or we’re both staying,” I remind him, knowing he’s dying to take this battle to them.

Knowing they likely heard me, he swears and shoves me through the door, but he follows close behind and slams it shut.

Hands on his hips, he glares at me. “I was only going to send a message.”

Too busy scouring for the exit, I roll my eyes. “How the hell are we going to get off this roof? Is there a secret tunnel? A rope nearby?”

Bullets hit the door behind him, and I flinch, but he doesn’t turn around. “It’s bulletproof.” He looks up at the sky. “You’re a good flyer, right?”

My eyes dart from one corner of the large roof to the other. “I don’t see a helicopter. Or a hang glider. And I sure as hell don’t have wings.” Shouting comes from the ground below us. “We don’t have much time.”

“Good thing I’ve got wings,” he informs me with an arrogant smirk, handing me his phone. “It’s been a long time since I carried anyone else, but all you have to do is hang on and carry my phone. Can you do that?”

I stare at him and realize I never did figure out his animal. Dread fills me. “What kind of shifter are you?”

Broad shoulders straighten with pride. “Gryphon. Big one.” A bullet pings off the lip of the roof. “You ready?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I thought gryphons were extinct? Why didn’t I ask him sooner? “Wait.” I pace back and forth. “If I fall, promise me you’ll pick up my body.” Or what’s left of it.

I cringe. It’s not like I’ll die forever, but damn, falling would totally suck. The landing would be the worst part, but it would be over in an instant, right? Poof. Dead. While I’m contemplating the worst-case scenario, he begins changing.

Talons appear first, razor sharp with huge claws that could shred me in seconds.

My eyes widen, then I look up and see golden eyes staring menacingly down at me.

Mesmerized, I find myself staring back even as I internally scream at myself to look away.

For the first time in ages, fear makes me freeze.

When his back half begins to change, I tear my gaze from his and watch him half shift into the paws and body of a lion. He finishes, and I study the point where his body changes from lion to eagle. It’s almost seamless. Brown feathers meet brown fur over a cluster of massive muscles.

“Am I supposed to climb up?” The tremor in my voice tells him how I feel about this idea.

A shrill sound emits from his beak, and he extends a wing toward me.

In three thousand years, I thought I’d seen and done it all.

A hysterical laugh escapes as I flip the safeties on and shove the guns into my waistband.

I guess not. Aware of the urgency, I grab onto the feathered appendage and crawl up to his neck, then straddle him. “I’m on.” My voice is barely a whisper.

Bullets pierce the air around me. Some of the shots go wide, making me wonder if they’re even aiming at us.

Muffled sounds follow. His body shudders as it takes a few hits.

He launches into the air like a rocket, high in the sky with me clinging to him in sheer terror.

Pausing for a second, we peer down at the small army surrounding his house.

There must be thirty men outside. Plus, however many inside.

They really want this fucking key.

He banks sharply, and I bury my face in his neck.

The spicy scents of myrrh and juniper fill my senses, reminding me of the Middle East. Shifters have scents, but they vary based on their origin or the type of animal inside them.

In human form, the juniper comes across but not the myrrh. Interesting.

Gripping his stiff feathers tightly, I wait until he levels off before I open them again and see all of London spread out below us. Shit! Supernaturals aren’t supposed to show themselves to humans. How are we going to hide this?

A few minutes later, he sets us down in a nearby park. Not one person looks over at us. Puzzled, I slide carefully down his wing and peer at their faces. They return my gaze, but every time one of them tries to look in his direction, their gazes skip and move on.

He silently changes form while I keep watch. As he finishes, he groans and falls to one knee.

I swivel around and see holes and blood all over his golden body.

He turns his backside toward me, and even as I hurry toward him, I can’t help but admire every hard line and hollow stamped into his golden skin.

A part of me wishes he would turn around so I could see the other half of his magnificent body.

Clearing my throat, I gesture to the wound on the back of his thigh. “Do we need to find a doctor?”

Pain strains his deep voice. “If you can find me some clothes, I’ll work on healing myself.” Reaching back, he grips his thigh, and I watch as the muscles contract to get rid of the bullet. He pushes it out through the entry hole, and it closes a few seconds later.

He throws me a sharp glance. “Clothes?” He pauses. “My phone too.”

“Right. I’ll be back. In a second. With clothes,” I stammer like an idiot after handing him his phone. Pivoting, I shake my head to clear the vision of him in all his glory.