The Reluctant Amazon (Alliance of the Amazons) Read Free Page A

full of concern were now full of annoyance, yet she felt no true
fear of harm from him. With the notable exception of the dipshit who had just
abandoned her at the altar, Rebecca was usually a great judge of character. Her
gut told her Artair wouldn’t hurt her. She hoped to hell her gut was right.
    Getting to her feet, she turned to walk back to the church.
When she found her Aunt Kay, they could take the limo on a nice tour of New York
City and drink the mini-bar dry. After all, the damn thing had already been paid
for. She didn’t make it three steps before Artair’s strong arms wrapped around
her waist and he picked her up. Her feet dangled as she struggled against
him.
    “You can’t leave, lass.”
    She tugged at his arm, raking her fingernails across the skin,
feeling them dig deep enough to excise a layer or two. “Fire! Rape! Murder!
Someone help me!”
    She was shouting to a street full of nothing but parked
cars.
    “Pull in the talons, my wee hawk. ’Tis a trait for Fire, nae
Earth.” Artair carried her back to the van as if she weighed nothing at all,
chuckling all the way.
    Fire? Earth? He was talking in
riddles. “Put me down, you big bully.”
    Rebecca fought him, hardly able to breathe with his arm so
snuggly wrapped around her. The smell of trash and human waste suddenly hit her
nostrils. A light breeze blew, and the already disgusting odor quickly
intensified, becoming so strong and foul that it made her gag.
    She stopped fighting. “Oh, my God. What’s that sm—”
    “Sparks! Revenants!” Artair tossed Rebecca in the back of the
van, reached inside and jerked up a piece of the floorboard. Fishing around in
the compartment, he grabbed an enormous sword.
    Growls came from just outside the door, the sounds sending
shivers up her spine. The smell grew stronger. Rebecca fought back a retch,
pulled herself to her feet and steadied herself by holding on to the door.
    A cold, gray hand seized her wrist as fingers dug cruelly into
her skin. When she tried to pry them away, one of the putrid fingers snapped off
and fell to the ground. She gagged. A strong yank nearly jerked her out of the
van.
    She came face-to-face with a corpse.
    One eye hung from its socket. The lips were all but gone,
revealing yellowed teeth. A snarl rose from its chest. This—this— thing couldn’t be alive. A scream built from deep
inside her and poured out her mouth.
    “Get down!” Artair wrenched the hand away from her arm, shoved
the creature back and raised his sword.
    Rebecca landed hard on her ass and scooted farther inside the
van. The driver’s-side door opened and slammed shut, and the woman he’d called
Sparks shrieked what could only be called a battle cry.
    The compartment Artair had revealed was filled with swords,
knives and a couple of enormous hammers that reminded her of pictures of old
railroad workers. Who in the hell carried around those kinds of weapons?
    After only a few moments, the sounds of the fight died. Rebecca
startled when Artair popped his head into the van, dropped his sword back into
the cache and tugged the lid into place. He jumped inside and slammed the door
shut as the driver took her seat again.
    The woman tapped something against her hand, which was followed
by the distinct flick of an old-fashioned Zippo lighter. Cigarette smoke began
to drift to the back of the van.
    “Who were those people?” Rebecca hauled herself up and took the
passenger seat to get away from Artair’s intense stare.
    “Just a couple of class-three revenants, newbie. Nothing to get
your panties in a twist over. I’m Sparks, by the way. The Celt didn’t have time
to introduce us.”
    The woman appeared to be in her forties. Several gray hairs
fanned from her temples to blend with the vibrant red that didn’t look to be
from a bottle of dye. Her long hair was pulled into a ponytail and tied with a
forest-green scrunchie. She had a cigarette pinched between lips heavily
accented with crimson lipstick. She was