Read Demon Storm: Belador book 5 for Free Online Page B

him?”
    Because Storm is worth more to me than you can ever understand.
    Telling Tristan that would just encourage him to continue haranguing her about something that was none of his business. Instead, she’d give him something to think about. “Funny you say that, because Storm asked me why I’d risk my life and fragile standing with the Beladors to help a backstabbing bastard who walked away from me when I stood between him and a black ops team. His words, of course. And, why would I continue to stick my neck out to trust you after you took me to meet with a guy who turned out to be a Medb plant and why–”
    “I got it, E- valle . Give me a break.” 
    No. Tristan started this. She added, “ And Storm has come for me every time I’ve been in a jam. Every. Time. Don’t ever think I won’t turn this world upside down for him.”
    “Must be nice,” Tristan muttered.
    “What?”
    He stared off, taking a slow breath. “To have someone you love that much.”
    She felt Tristan’s despair with her empathic senses, reminding her of the loneliness he’d suffered while locked away in the jungle in a spelled cage. It was during times like this that she often overlooked how much of a jerk he could be.
    He was right. It was nice to know she was going home to someone who loved her, which she was doing just as soon as she returned to Atlanta.
    She changed the subject and told Tristan, “Work with me so all of us can have lives. We’re at the closest point all Alterants have ever been to that happening. Macha has proof that we’re not a threat to Brina, which was her major concern about Alterants.”
    Thinking on that reminded Evalle that Tristan had been given a Medb concoction that had resulted in his being able to teleport at times. He could only take one person at a time and had to rest to regain his powers when he did, but...
    “Hey, Tristan, can you still teleport?”
    “Short distances inside the Treoir boundaries, but I can’t get out.”
    “You tried?”
    “Of course I tried,” he scowled at her. “Don’t give me that look. I wasn’t abandoning my group, just checking out my resources.”
    In a way, Evalle wished he’d been successful, because now she was stuck with only the goddess to teleport her back to Atlanta, and Macha had a memory longer than eternity.
    She would not soon forget Evalle’s words only hours ago.
    But speaking her mind had felt good. Evalle was sick and tired of being told who she could or could not protect. Ultimately, she was going to give Macha what the goddess wanted by bringing a powerful Skinwalker/shaman to Treoir who could track pretty much any majik.
    Storm would have enjoyed watching Evalle stand up to the Celtic goddess.
    It had been a beautiful moment for all of the fifteen seconds it took for Evalle to realize she’d just verbally bitch slapped the only person here who could teleport her back to Atlanta–to the mortal world.
    Even so, she didn’t regret it and wouldn’t retract her words. They’d come from a heart that ached to be back in Storm’s arms. She missed him with every breath.
    Storm had constantly put himself in danger for the sole reason of protecting her or helping her with some deadly, impossible task.
    Because of him, and only him, she finally knew what it was to care for a man instead of fearing his touch. Storm was her world and her future. She would not sit quietly and wait for him to come to her while he might be fighting that crazy witch doctor.
    “Beladors!” Macha said, drawing attention to where she floated above the steps that led up to two massive doors carved with triquetras, a triangle-shaped Belador symbol. Macha might look to be in her late twenties, but she’d been around since life had taken hold on this planet. She normally showed up in a sparkling gown made of some impossible material, but today she wore a dark blue top and pants that swirled with a gauzy effect.
    Her hair usually moved all over the place and changed colors