“Tea, please,” I manage to squeak out. I’m a lovesick teenager lusting after her celebrity crush when I watch him leave. I know he can feel my eyes on him because before he shuts the door, he glances over his shoulder to wink at me, knowing exactly how well he’s playing this game.
The sound of the shower serves as my background music when I let my towel pool around my feet. My clothes smell like Carrigan’s laundry soap and Hagan’s pine-soaked skin. The fabric slides over my body and I feel a wash of love and affection—two things I’d never put much stock in, and have never had hugging my curves like this. For all the plainness of my jeans and lavender V-neck t-shirt, I feel like a queen when I wind my brown waves up into a damp bun. I float down the hallways and into the kitchen on a cloud of sheer contentment.
The sizzle of bacon hits me like a bouquet of roses, and for a moment, I think I never want to live anywhere else. “How did you get bacon going in the two minutes since you…” But when I round the corner, it’s not Hagan at the stove, but Valor.
Hagan’s perched on the stool at the counter, cutting his tall stack of pancakes with the side of his fork. “Valor made breakfast already. I’m heating the kettle up for your tea. Come on over.” He pats the stool next to him.
I’m sitting only three seconds before Valor’s got a stack of five pancakes with bacon and eggs on the side plated and in front of me. He’s dapper in his pressed pants and suspenders. His black hair is perfectly parted and combed. It’s like he wakes up ready to be a professor during the day and moonlight as a sexy vampire at night. It’s the fanciest breakfast I’ve had since… yesterday, when he made us crepes suzette.
“Thank you, Valor. This looks amazing.” I address him by name because it’s the only way to get him to look at me. After he worked for Elowen for sixty years, she wouldn’t set him free unless he paid the price of letting her mute his conscience. He’s lived without remorse for so many years, killing and taking advantage at will. Now that I’m around, Elowen’s power over Valor has vanished, thanks to my dysfunction that mutes all magic when I get too near. What I’ve grown up assuming was a terrible thing about myself is the one thing that’s been able to give the missing piece of Valor back to himself. Valor’s conscience has resurfaced, and it’s clear he has no idea what to do with himself. It’s been a bumpy road, getting him to understand how to listen to the angel on his shoulder. He’s spent most of his time this week in somber meditation, reflecting over all the horrid things he’s done. Then he cooks and cleans for us, as if that’s what he feels he needs to do when his conscience reminds him of something particularly dastardly he’s done in the past.
I’m careful around this quieter version of Valor now. The first time I met him, I punched him in the face. Twice. Now, I make sure gentle eye contact isn’t too aggressive for him.
“Good morning, young one. Would you like some orange juice?” He’s so very polite now. He’s gone from vampire playboy kingpin to an ashamed man afraid to look people in the eye. When I found him in the tub contemplating taking his own life when his conscience returned and reminded him of the weight of his bad choices, I knew I couldn’t abandon him. The hollows under his eyes are a testament to his sleepless nights. I long to comfort him, but know he has to find his bearings on his own when he’s ready.
“She’s having tea,” Hagan growls, inching my stool closer. He’s an overprotective ass in the mornings before he’s fully awake, but having Valor around really ramps up the tension. I can’t really blame Hagan for being on-edge. I mean, Valor’s rap sheet is a mile long. Add being a vampire to that, and I’m actually a little proud of Hagan for not tearing off Valor’s head every time the man opens his mouth.
“Apologies,” Valor offers, dipping his head. He pours Hagan freshly-brewed coffee without meeting his eyes, and then turns back to the frying pan to flip the bacon.
The whole thing breaks my heart a little bit.
When the front door opens without any hint of a doorbell, Hagan stands. He makes it halfway to the foyer before I hear Jonas. “Down, boy. Do we have to go through this every day? If someone’s entering using a key, you don’t have to attack.”
Hagan resumes his place next to me but inches his stool so close that our thighs are mashed together, just how we like it. “Don’t you have a company to run? We don’t exactly need more people on this trek.”
When Jonas throws Hagan a shot of his middle finger, I’m not terribly convinced that we’re all going to be best friends after this ordeal. “Good morning to you too, Donk—” Jonas catches himself before he uses the nickname Hagan loathes. “Hagan, we’ve been over this. Carrigan trusts the little witch. Fine. I’m under no obligation to trust anyone. Especially not after it was witches in the first place who were poisoning Cary and making him sicker and sicker.”
I bristle, not loving how often Jonas and I do this dance. “Hey, I took down The Sage Spa for what they did to Carrigan. That kind of thing frustrates me far more than it does you.”
“Yes, remind me of your murdering spree and tell me how that’s supposed to make me feel better about you taking off with Cary into the woods,” Jonas simpers. He’s wearing jeans, which I’ve never seen on him, replacing his suits with a casual air that still seems formal, simply because it’s him. That, and I can tell he’s ironed his green-checked flannel shirt. Jonas is the worst. I’m still not sure how he talked his way into joining us on our hike through the woods.
I duck my head and turn my focus to my pancakes at his totally valid point. I want to argue that it wasn’t my fault the witches died. Mother Nature wanted it to happen, so she used my body to enact her vengeance.
Somehow that doesn’t seem like it will get me off the hook.
The way Jonas calls me “little witch” stings my soul in a way that makes me loathe whenever he’s in the mix. I want to talk Jonas out of joining us, but whenever I try, Mother rouses from inside my chest, giving me the distinct impression that Jonas needs to be on this journey.
Mother and I don’t always see eye-to-eye.
Jonas picks up a piece of bacon from the platter, and Valor doesn’t waste a second plating him a breakfast feast. Jonas doesn’t say thank you, but munches as if he’s entitled to it all. “My stuff is outside,” he says by way of a greeting. “It needs to be loaded into the car.”
When Valor moves to comply, I stand. “No. I’ll get it while you apologize to Valor for being a prick, and then thank him for making breakfast you weren’t invited to.”
Jonas gives me a look that spells out the likelihood of that happening, but I don’t care. Valor’s life with a conscience won’t be wasted jumping whenever people snap their fingers, acting out of some sense of guilt he needs to atone for in all the wrong ways. Letting his newfound conscience turn him into a doormat is no way to spend one’s immortality.
Valor’s voice is quiet. “I don’t mind, young one. Sit and eat.”
But Hagan’s already off his stool, towering over Jonas in a way that shows off the full breadth of his stature. “My girlfriend isn’t your maid.”
Jonas makes a show of looking me slowly up and down, which we both know he wouldn’t do for any reason other than to piss off Hagan. “No, she’s more the communal service girl. Hop to it, little witch.”
I don’t do more than close my eyes when Hagan lifts Jonas off his stool by the collar and drags him toward the exit. I don’t say anything to tame the beast that growls whenever I’m insulted. Jonas brought this upon himself, and he seems determined to poke the bear until he learns his lesson, no matter how many fights he loses in the education process.
Valor and I stare at each other with wide eyes, unsure how we’re all supposed to travel through the forest together to find the elusive Elowen when we can’t even make it through breakfast without a fight.
Yes, we’re off to a fantastic start.
Chapter Three
Sophie
Jonas drives Carrigan’s car because he’s controlling, and also because Hagan and
Cary stick like flypaper to my sides wherever I go. It’s a heady feeling, being so very cherished. Hagan relaxes into his seat, pulling my knee to hook overtop his so he can spread his legs wide. I can tell he loves that he can’t shift around me. It’s given him a whole new facet to his personality—rest. It’s the same with Carrigan, who laces his fingers through mine so Hagan doesn’t edge him out. Cary’s overactive psychic ability is completely muted around me, so instead of hearing everyone’s thoughts all the time with no hope of turning them off, he can actually enjoy the silence, which he seems well-suited for.
“Good book?” I ask as we pull into the rest area where we’re going to leave the car. Cary’s been attached to this old Western paperback since I moved in. He looks like a sexy college student, thumbing pages as his eyes pour over the paragraphs with a studious air.
“You know, I don’t even care if it is,” Cary admits. “I can read a whole book without anyone spoiling it for me when they see the cover and think of the ending. You have no idea how much I want to read, but the constant stream of voices in my head makes it hard to focus on fiction.” His mouth lifts up at the corner. Gotta love a man with a lopsided smile. “You’ve given me whole worlds, Sophie Mae. Thank you.”
My cheeks color at the unreserved sincerity in every compliment he gives me. I was taught my magic-muting ability was a bane on the community, but he and Hagan look at me as if I’m this gift from the universe they get to slowly unwrap.
I thumb his knuckle as he tucks the book into his backpack. Jonas fiddles with the parking spot, pulling in and out until he’s the right amount of too close to the curb.
I catch Valor’s eye in the rearview mirror and offer him a flicker of a smile that hopefully communicates we’re in this together. I wonder if he’s recalling the hug I gave him this morning when we were alone in the kitchen. After Hagan dragged Jonas out the front door to have a few words with him, I dashed to Valor and scooped him in my arms.
There hadn’t been many words, but it doesn’t seem we need them in order to find our way through the beginnings of a solid friendship. Valor’s entire being screams to be held while his world alters and cracks around him. I hope he finds his way to something better, but until then, I look for ways to hold him together while he seeks out his path.
“Thank you,” he’d rasped in the kitchen during our brief moment alone. “You don’t have to do that, though. I don’t mind helping. I’ve taken advantage of too many people to be offended by that.”
“No,” I told him. “Jonas will ask nicely, and eventually you’ll remember that you’re a person. You can give kindness as well as take it.”
He’d kissed my cheek with his eyes closed, as if my words ached his soul. I’d held him while his heart rebroke down its road toward the lengthy healing process. Valor had inhaled deeply, touching his nose to my shoulder. “Hagan’s marking you,” he’d chuckled once he came out of his reverie. “It won’t be long until you’re his mate. Beauty and her beast. You’ll be quite the pair.”
I’d shrugged, as if the whole thing wasn’t a huge deal at all. In truth, I’ve never known a shifter couple before. I have no idea how they behave together, how intense it can all be. If the way Hagan hovers is any indication, I can tell I’m in for a steep learning curve.
We pile out of the sedan and pull our backpacks on, standing in a circle as we all stare as one at Valor. When he says nothing, Jonas prods. “Well, hop to it, vamp. Are you going to stare at the little witch’s ass all day, or are we going? Aren’t you supposed to be our tour guide?”
The worst part about Jonas’ attitude is when Valor’s chin lowers in submission. My stomach churns at the sight and I sneer at Jonas. “Try that again. This isn’t going to work if we can’t be civil. Valor is irreplaceable on this mission because he knows how to find Elowen. You are here because Carrigan loves you. That got you as far as the edge of the woods. It’s not going to get you a step farther.” I narrow my eyes at Jonas’ curled upper lip that displays his affront. “Apologize and shape up or go home.”
Jonas scoffs and casts Cary a “can you believe this diva” look, to which Carrigan gives him a tight nod. I don’t envy Cary’s position, wedged between the two of us. But I also don’t back down. Jonas’ mouth tightens. Our stubborn natures and our love for Carrigan are the only things we have in common. “Let’s get going.”
“Not even close to an apology,” I insist, arms akimbo.
Valor holds up his hands. “It’s alright, young one. Jonas is as arrogant as I was before my conscience came back. I’ll not force him to do something he’s not capable of. And as much as you might want to, you won’t succeed either. This way,” he says, and then points into the woods.
I grumble about not getting the apology, but Jonas seems more steamed that Valor found a way to shame him with the truth. The trek starts out as a tense walk along the hiking path. It all looks innocuous enough, but there’s a chill of danger we’re all too aware of as we step over roots and duck under low-hanging branches. Valor leads the way, but there doesn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to his steps. He follows the plowed path without explanation, and all of us are too keyed up to ask.
Carrigan and Jonas go back and forth on different aspects of their business, kicking around a few personnel decisions it sounds like they need to make. The fact that they can both step away from their positions for a prolonged camping trip tells me that they have things delegated nicely. Of course they do. Carrigan is a meticulous planner.
I feel Hagan at my back, not hovering, but also not letting me stray from his sight. He doesn’t say much, but if a branch swings too low, his long arm stretches to shield me from being whapped in the face. I love the unquenchable feeling of safety I get whenever he’s around. I never put all that much stock in it before, but now that it’s here, I see the appeal clearly.
We walk for hours with pockets of conversation swelling and cresting. I itch to get to know the guys better, but I’m unsure if my questions would be best in a private forum. I don’t know if it’s rude to ask Hagan if he’s happy to have a break from Shipwreck Tavern for a week or so until they get back up and running. I want to know why on earth Carrigan bothers being around Jonas at all when Jonas is such an acerbic ass. But these, among many other questions, remain bubbling beneath my skin.
The sun is overhead before Hagan calls for a break. “Your shoulders are tight and you’re breathing heavier, now that we’ve gone off the trail and it’s mostly uphill.”
My eyebrows pull together, indignant at being called out. “Hey, I’m not complaining or asking for a break. I don’t mind the walk.”
Hagan studies my defiance as if unsure what to do with me. “Okay. Then I’m tired and need a break. Does that work?”
Jonas makes cooing noises at me when we sit down and open our packs. His ebony fingers unscrew the lid from his water bottle. “Aw, poor baby. Not used to going for long walks? Should we have factored in a litter for your harem to carry you around on?”
I want to punch Jonas but decide on ignoring him, since that’s what Carrigan seems determined to do. Though, that doesn’t seem to be working, either.
We set our packs in the middle and gather around them, pulling out sandwiches Valor made us, along with our water bottles and some dried fruit. Valor doesn’t eat with us, and it’s then I remember that he’s going to need blood sooner or later. “Are you thirsty?” I ask him quietly while the others talk about possible upgrades that can be made to the hotel.
Valor shakes his head, but the hollows under his eyes are darker than they were that morning.
“Animal blood?” I suggest.
Valor shrugs, and I can tell his conscience has swung so hard that he’s battling himself at the prospect of killing off any living thing, even a squirrel. It’s a hard transition, going from not caring at all to caring perhaps a little too much about everything.
“It matters if you starve, Valor,” I remind him.
“Does it?” He replies with such
thick melancholy, my heart slams against my ribcage in his direction. I don’t like the sound of him in pain, especially if it’s self-inflicted.
“Who’s starving?” Hagan inches closer to me, his arm behind my body so I can lean against him. It’s clear one sandwich won’t be enough for him, so I feed him a bite of mine, earning a kiss to my cheek.
“Valor. He made us all breakfast and lunch, but there’s nothing for him to drink.”
Carrigan must sense I’m close to offering a spare vein, so he claps Valor on the shoulder. “How long has it been since you’ve had anything to drink?”
“A few days. I’m alright.”
Hagan stands. “No. That’s not alright. You’ll get too thirsty to remind yourself we’re off-limits. I’ll hunt you down a rabbit or something.”
Valor shakes his head. “No. Maybe tonight when you hunt up some game for everyone I’ll drink the blood before I cook it up for you, but not now. I’m not in the mood.”
“Not in the mood? What sort of flunky vampire are you?” Jonas says it like it’s a joke, but Valor merely turns his face to stare into the woods. He’s been doing that a lot lately—going quiet when his usual smug arrogance would have free rein of his mouth.
I move to sit next to him. At the few feet of space I’ve granted myself from my favorite shifter, I can feel Hagan watching me surreptitiously. “Hey, are you alright?” I ask Valor quietly, though, huddled as we are, there are no private conversations. I can already guess the answer, but what I’m not sure Valor knows is that anyone cares how he’s dealing with his new lease on life.
I care.
“No,” Valor admits. “None of us are alright. Elowen isn’t the sort to be dropping in on. She’s always got an agenda, and people coming to ask for favors are her specialty.” He turns toward me. “She won’t be kind to you. She won’t have mercy on any of us. Stay close to your protectors, young one.”
Savage Possessed: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy Adventure (Twin Rivers Possession Book 2) Page 2