The Shifter's Catch Page 3

  Isobel frowned. "Okay, this is weird. When did you decide to start being supportive?"

  Azalea glanced away from her. "There's something about this place. I'm starting to remember things about my life."

  "What sort of things?"

  "Just . . . vague things. Like regrets. I didn't do everything I wanted to do. I didn't chase my destiny. And you're doing the same thing. So, maybe I'm here to give you a kick in the ass."

  She was right. Destiny didn't fall into someone's lap. Just look at her and Edan. If she had waited for him to come to her, she wouldn't be here. Not that they were destined for each other. But it was very helpful to have so much money at her disposal to get what she wanted.

  Still, she should at least tell Edan that she was leaving. On second thought, why? She quickly changed and phoned the helicopter pad, ordering them to prepare her a flight. When they asked where she was going, she told them she'd tell them when she got there.

  ***

  "You sure this is where you want to be?" The helicopter pilot gripped her arm as she staggered unsteadily on her feet.

  Flying via dragon was sickening. Flying via helicopter was worse. She found her feet again and straightened, sucking in deep breaths to stop her nausea. This was going to be just fine. The cave sat down at the base of a short trail. She pulled away from the pilot.

  "I'll be back soon," she said. It was fortunate that she was able to point out the cave on a map and that the pilot hadn't known what it was. At least, she thought it was fortunate.

  "Are you certain, my lady? This is very treacherous terrain."

  Isobel smiled at him. "Of course. I know exactly what I am doing."

  The pilot looked doubtful but nodded. Isobel headed down the trail, picking her way carefully to make sure that he didn't realize she was lying through her teeth. Her heart slammed against her chest as she entered the mouth of the cave. It was like the warmth of the day was suddenly cut out. A shudder passed down her spine and she repressed the urge to turn around and run back out.

  "This is spooky," Azalea, trailing behind her, whispered.

  Isobel silently agreed but continued into the darkness. The cave was dry but smelled strongly of minerals and, oddly, of old shoes. The light from the entrance soon disappeared into a small pinprick and Isobel switched on her flashlight.

  Something whispered just beyond the light cast from the flashlight. The darkness pressed in closer around her, wrapping around her legs and sliding down her throat like a snake. Her heart stuttered as a feeling of pure hostility oozed from the rock walls. The tunnel got continually smaller until she felt that if she breathed too deeply, she might get stuck.

  "And how far do you need to go before you get what you want?" Azalea's voice made her jump. She had all but forgotten that the ghost was there. Isobel turned, shining the light on her face.

  "Grandmother always said that it would just happen. We have to be patient and calm and not freak out."

  Azalea made a strangled noise in her throat. "Okay . . . but did dear old granny ever actually come into these caves? Was she a real psychic? If she didn't, then how does she know about what goes on here?"

  "She came." Isobel shrugged. "Once."

  "Oh. Well, then I'm full of confidence. You'd better not have brought me in here when it's just a death trap."

  "You can't even die."

  "How do you know? Maybe I'm attached to you by a string and I'm in a coma and if you die, so do I!"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I don't know!"

  "Then stop." Isobel sucked in a deep breath. "You're just freaking me out and we can't freak out. We have to keep a level head."

  "No, you do. I'm outta here."

  "Wait, what about you being in a coma and tied to me?"

  Azalea put her hands on her hips. "Let's face the facts here. I'm dead already."

  "Then why—"

  "If you are really as powerful as you think, you don't need me."

  Before Isobel could say another word, the ghost had vanished. A low, annoyed hiss escaped through her teeth. How typical. Azalea pushed her into doing this and then just split. What a pathetic excuse for a ghost! It made no sense that she would get freaked out in such a place.

  Unless she had lured Isobel there so that she could kill her.

  The psychic turned, heart in her throat. She had only taken a few more steps when her feet slipped out from under her and she let out a strangled shout. The ground disappeared from under her and she dropped. The flashlight spun out of her hand, illuminating dank walls. Isobel reached for it, but as her fingers grasped the edge, it hit the wall and smashed. Everything went pitch black. She screamed as she threw her hands out, trying to stop her descent, but it was useless.

  Her leg crumpled beneath her when she landed. Bright spots flashed before her eyes and she reached for them before she realized it was because of the pain. Sweat broke over her face as bolts of agony shot up her leg. She had landed in a puddle of water and she shivered as the damp seeped into her skin.

  "Nope," she gasped. "Not happening." She attempted to stand and collapsed again with a cry of pain.

  A hand grasped her arm. Isobel jerked back, but the grip only tightened. The whispers from before returned, louder this time, like nails skimming over her eardrums. Her heart slammed into her ribs and up into her throat. She couldn't even see her own hands as she clawed at the darkness, fear overwhelming her.

  "Stop!" she finally shouted to herself. Her voice echoed in the small space and she tried to drag herself from the puddle. "Just stop it."

  Silence. Then, a voice spoke in her ear: "We've been waiting for you."

  Bile rose in her throat as the whispers started again. This time, she could hear each word clearly. Each one called, demanded, or cried for her to come to them. They shouted her name over and over and over and she screamed, pressing her hands over her ears.

  Hands clamped over her arms. Long-fingered, with sharp nails and iron grips. She threw her fists out every way but there was no one there. The hands gave a mighty jerk and she felt her feet dragging against the floor. She kicked, a white-hot flash jolting up her spine. It was too hot and too cold. Her head spun and her throat felt dry. She tried to shout, but her tongue swelled until it filled her whole mouth.

  A burst of flame lit the tunnel. She yelped weakly as the red flames shot over her head. Shrieks surrounded her and, in the painful light, she saw dark shadows scurrying away. The light stabbed her eyes, but she sucked it up greedily, not wanting to be left in the dark again.

  In the light, a face appeared. An angel's face with eyes as deep brown as rich loamy earth and skin the shade of the wood from a walnut tree. She moaned as she reached for him. His arms wrapped around her waist and he lifted her. The darkness closed in again, but his warm, strong arms surrounded her. His heartbeat pounded in her ears and she let it close in around her, safe and peaceful.

  The next thing she knew, she was lying on her back in the sunlight and a strange man bent over her, letting water trickle down her throat. Just behind him was Azalea, her arms wrapped around her middle.

  Isobel groaned, feeling oddly weak. A hand slipped into hers and she turned to see Edan, his warm brown eyes wide with worry. A rope was tied around his waist. Shoot. She should have thought about that. Maybe then she would have been able to find her way back.

  Wait.

  "No," she growled. She pushed the water away. "You ruined it! I was going to find my grandmother. She was going to tell me what to do. Now how am I supposed to talk to her? Take me back in right now!"

  "Back?" Edan's eyes widened. "Are you crazy? I just barely got you out in time. I'm not letting you back in there."

  "You’re not my boss," she growled at him. "You don't get to ask for the . . . No. I meant you don't get to tell me what to do."

  Her head spun and when she tried to sit up, she found she couldn't. Darkness spun over her and she clenched her eyes shut, trying desperately not to be sick. Pain radiated
from her leg and she gripped Edan's hand despite herself.

  "You were in that cave for three days," the prince whispered. "It's a miracle that I even found you. I lost your scent quickly, but I heard you screaming . . . "

  "Three days?" That didn't seem right. She had only been in there a couple of hours, hadn't she?

  "My lord, we need to get her to the hospital."

  "I wasn't in there for three days," she argued. "I couldn't have been. Azalea . . . ?"

  "Who?" Edan's brow furrowed.

  Azalea crouched beside her and nodded. "It has been three days. I've been out here waiting. The dragon kept going in. Every day and night. They kept giving him a longer rope. He was quite desperate. I think he really wants you. You ought to bed him at least once . . . Look at those muscles, I'm sure he'd be fun."

  Edan smoothed her hair. "Who is Azalea?"

  "Nobody. I'm just confused." She smiled weakly. "Being in a cave for three days will do that to a girl."

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "I will take care of you. I promise."

  The other man put a hand on his shoulder. "My lord."

  Edan nodded. He moved Isobel onto a stretcher. She tried to turn her head to keep looking at him but her neck was too stiff . . . No. She was wearing a collar. His hand remained in hers, though. He stayed close as he began to wheel her towards the helicopter. Azalea trailed after, her expression actually guilty . . .

  Isobel ignored the ghost for now. Edan had gone into the cave repeatedly after her. Why would he do that? There were other women he could pursue. What was so important about her?

  Her eyes drifted closed and she pushed the thoughts away. It didn't matter. He was here with her. That was all that mattered.

  Chapter Five – Edan

  The palace's hospital wing was equipped for everything from hangnails to major surgery. There were several doctors on call at all times in case of emergency. They were regularly rotated out to be sent to conferences and other places where they would have practical experience to ensure they remained the best in the kingdom.

  Isobel's leg was badly sprained and bruised from ankle to thigh. She was severely dehydrated and her body was malnourished, but otherwise, she was fine. She just needed bedrest, medication to manage the pain, an IV fluid drip, and a few good meals. Edan stayed with her as she healed, even holding her hand as she drifted off to sleep.

  The next morning, however, he let her have it.

  "How could you do something so dangerous without even telling me?" he seethed after she had eaten breakfast. "I told you that cave was dangerous. You knew that people die in there all the time and yet you went anyway? You didn't even take any precautions! You had no spelunking equipment, not even a flashlight—"

  "I had a flashlight," Isobel interrupted. The blanket twisted between her hands but her jaw was still set stubbornly. "I just lost it."

  Edan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? I thought you were dead. I thought—"

  "That you were going to have to find some other woman to be your bride?"

  "It's not that at all."

  Isobel folded her arms. Her eyes blazed as her jaw tightened further. "I think that's exactly what it is. You've spent a few days wearing me down and you've spent a small fortune convincing me to be your bride. You were worried you'd have to start the process all over again."

  Edan shook his head. He tried not to rise to her bait. Clearly, she wanted him to get angry. Whenever strong emotions were present, rational discussion was impossible and he'd be forced to drop it. He wasn't going to let that happen. "That's not it and you know it, Isobel. I wouldn't have gone into that darkness again and again if all I was worried about was an investment."

  She scowled.

  "So, I am going to ask you again. Why did you do it? Knowing the dangers, why would you go ahead with something like that?"

  Isobel turned her face away.

  For the love of God, just answer me! He sucked in a deep breath to calm himself. "Isobel, I don't believe you would have done this on a whim. You said something about your grandmother. Did she get lost inside the cave?"

  "No." Finally she looked at him. "She was one of the few people who made it out. And I would tell you why I did it, but I don't think you'll believe me anyway. So why don't you just take back all the fancy jewels and drop me back off at my apartment, huh? I'm going to have to work twice as hard to get my clients back after this long of an absence."

  "I'll leave when you tell me why you went in there. Is it because you're psychic?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. He couldn't help it. He could wish to be calm all he wanted, but when it came down to it, she could have been killed and he couldn't figure out why she would put herself in such a position. Why would she leave without even telling him?

  "Yes."

  Edan started. His eyes widened. "What?"

  "I'm psychic. A medium, to be more precise. I went to the caves because I have a damned ghost hanging around me and she convinced me to go. I wanted to know the extent of my abilities, so I went. Happy?" She glared challengingly at him.

  For a long moment, he wasn't sure whether he should laugh or resume yelling at her. He'd fallen for that line once before, so it was no surprise that she was trying it again. But would she really think that he would believe it again? His frown increased as he studied his bride – no matter what she did, he still intended to marry her – and eventually shook his head. Whatever she was trying, he wasn't going to let it go just for that explanation.

  A flash of disappointment crossed her face. "Yeah. Didn't think you'd believe me."

  "You have to admit . . . " He let himself trail off.

  Maybe he had been naive to believe her when she approached him in that café, but the feeling he had gotten when she spoke was undeniable. It had felt like the vibrations of the universe pinging against his brain. It was the reason he kept her around even after she revealed the truth to him. There was something about her that made his fires roar, flooding to the ends of his fingertips.

  If she was going to be his mate and give him children, then there had to be some trust between them. He couldn't just dismiss what she said out of hand, no matter how unbelievable it was.

  "Okay," he said softly. "You're a psychic. Why did you tell me you were trying to con me before, then?"

  "Because I was."

  Smoke trickled from his mouth. "So you're a psychic but you were trying to con me. Which is it?"

  Isobel crossed her arms over her chest. "Both. I can't see ghosts. I can see one ghost. I can't communicate with the universe through vibrations, but I do think there is more to me than even I know. I just . . . "

  Edan nodded at her to continue.

  "I was raised by my grandmother. She was always there for me because my parents didn't want anything to do with me. My father said I didn't have the power and my mother . . . She just took off and never came back." She glanced away briefly. "But Gran always told me that I was special, that I had untapped potential that would one day come to fruition. I— Yes, I'm going to tell him everything. That's the deal."

  Edan's brows shot up so fast it was a surprise they didn't shoot off his face. "Isobel?"

  "If you don't like it, then leave." She huffed. "Sorry. It's Azalea. The ghost that's attached to me. She makes no sense. Now she's saying that you think I'm crazy and you'll lock me away."

  Apparently I need to buy her that new car, he thought, then shook his head. No. She wasn't crazy.

  "Okay. So, Azalea. How did you get her?"

  "I don't know. Shortly after my grandmother died, Azalea appeared. At first, I thought that she was Gran, but it quickly became apparent that she wasn't. Azalea's nothing like her. Ever since then, though, she's been sticking around." Another narrowed glance to one side, then Isobel turned slightly. She focused on him again. "I've never told anybody about her. Sometimes she's helpful, but most times, she's just annoying. That's why I went to the cave."


  Edan nodded as though he understood. "To get rid of her."

  "No. Not exactly, at least. I never believed my grandmother when she said I was special. I didn't think I could be. I was just me and I'd never shown any magical talent from the day I was born. If I had . . . " A haunted look flashed over her face. "But she was very powerful. She navigated the cave successfully and always told me that she’d one day take me through them. But we never had the money, and then she died."

  Lie or not, Edan's heartstrings were tugged. He placed his hand over Isobel's and she jerked, as though startled. Her shoulders tensed until he removed his hand.

  With a sigh, she slipped her hand into his. "Sorry. I'm not used to being touched anymore."

  "A lonely life," he murmured. "I understand."

  Isobel leaned forward slightly, then suddenly snapped back. Her cheeks flushed and she yanked her hand away so suddenly it made him jolt. "Stupid ghost."

  "What did she say?"

  The blush increased. "I've been saving my money for years to try to get to the cave to try to contact her. And I heard voices. They said they were waiting for me . . . " A shudder. "I would have died in there without you. Or maybe Gran would have found me and helped me out."

  He wasn't sure how to respond to that. Looking at her, though, he couldn't believe that she was lying. Slowly, he moved closer, twining his fingers through hers. For a long moment, he just stared at their joined hands before he sighed.

  "My brothers and I . . . Clint was always like a second father to me. Our parents were old when they had me and he was already married to Zoelle. I never knew what life was like before. He was good-natured, if stern, and was always there to teach me what I needed to know. Brant was my big brother in every sense. My nemesis, my best friend, my tormentor, my protector."

  He paused to gauge Isobel's reaction. She squeezed his hand and nodded at him to continue.

  "Zoelle and Brant don't really get along, and I know that Brant has been . . . disappointed in Clint's choices at times. But I never thought it would end up like this. One brother trying to kill the other. Sometimes I wish that I had been killed in that explosion rather than Clint being hurt. It would be less painful." He swallowed hard, having never voiced that thought before. His body shook, uncertain of whether or not Isobel even cared.