by Sienna Aylen
Skimming over her stomach, the pads of her fingers traced each of the six scar lines that crisscrossed right between her hipbones. They were faded, worn with time, but she felt them as though they were fresh marks.
Twisting around, she reached to undo her bra and her gaze was drawn to the mirror. Thirteen. That was the number of strikes. Thirteen long, jagged scars that ran across her back, still noticeable even after two millennia. They were white now, but the memory of them an angry red lingered in her mind.
She could have asked Aslynn to remove them. But she hadn’t. She wouldn’t. Emma couldn’t bring herself to erase the only evidence of her past. Nineteen scars total. Nineteen reminders why she lived the life she did.
After a quick change into the fresh clothes she’d placed on the counter, Emma inched closer to the mirror to examine her face. A bit thin with dark circles showing the lack of sleep, but otherwise it was the same face she’d seen a million times before. Her favorite feature had always been the light dusting of freckles that marked her nose and upper cheeks. They had gone in and out of fashion through the years but she adored their uniqueness.
Leaning closer, she ran a hand over her face around her eyes and sighed. Not even a wrinkle. Her face would stay like this forever. Frozen in time.
Letting out her breath with a rush, Emma splashed cold water over her face.
Back in her room, she found Gwen and Tessa perched on the king-sized bed, Gwen propped up against one of the wooden posts with her nose buried in a book, Tessa lounging against the mound of pillows as if she were the Queen of the Serengeti.
Waving an imperial hand, Tess indicated the room. “I suppose it’ll do, it has a homey feel to it. Have you seen the bathrooms? I’ll be relaxing in that tub before the day is out. The mattresses are amazing, too. I could totally get lost in this bed.”
Grinning, Emma watched as Tessa rolled around like a cat in heat. Emma swore she even heard a purr. After unzipping her duffel, she unwrapped her plush blanket and spread it over the bed on the opposite side from where Tessa was stretched out.
Gwen rolled her eyes affectionately at Tessa’s antics without bothering to take her gaze from the pages in front of her. “Well, it’s much nicer than some of the places we’ve stayed in over the years. Would you stop doing dirty things to that bed? Seriously, Tess, get a room.”
Tessa sat up with a wicked grin. “I do have a room, and if you think this is dirty, you should have seen what I already did to my own bed.” Waggling her eyebrows suggestively, Tessa sank back into the covers, her midnight hair fanning out around her in an arching wave of silk.
Gwen grabbed a pillow and threw it at Tessa’s head. It hit her smack dab between the eyeballs. “Well, maybe you’ll get lucky on this job. Oh, what? I saw you and Emma drooling over the beefcake downstairs.”
With a flounce, Tessa righted herself and arranged the pillow underneath her head. “I do not drool, it isn’t proper. I am not a dog. If anything, I resemble a cat. I have always felt a kinship with felines. I do agree with you on one point, though, Gwen. Emma did drool a tiny bit. I saw it with my own two eyes.”
Emma threw up her hands and laughed. “I tried to hide the drool, I really did. But seriously, it isn’t fair. He’s built like a brick house. It’s distracting.”
Tessa rolled over and propped her head on her hands. “You were all snuggled up to him for a minute or two there—was Mr. Alpha happy to see you?” She raised her eyebrows, her innuendo obvious.
Emma fell on top of her blanket and fanned herself with one hand. Two thousand years old and they could be reduced to acting like lovesick teenagers, mooning over men. “Let’s just say that the furniture isn’t the only thing that’s large around here.”
Tessa chuckled. “Then go for it. Have some fun, live a little. You deserve a bit of happiness.”
“You know I can’t. It isn’t professional,” Emma replied, the excuse sounding weak and forced even to her own ears.
Gwen slid a thin bookmark from behind her ear, marked the page she was on and dumped the book onto the dresser. “Honestly, take it from someone who knows…professionalism is totally overrated. Give yourself a break.”
Gwen stalked to the window and gestured to a pair of bears ambling through the trees, nudging each other affectionately with their noses. “We’re supposed to be finding our Fated, but the chances of actually finding them after two millennia are, statistically speaking, slim to none.”
If she were honest, Emma didn’t think any of her sisters, herself included, would even know what to do if they found their Fated. As far as she knew, each of them had had short flings and the occasional one-night stands over the centuries, but actual relationships? Emma didn’t think that even Gwen, with all her knowledge on everything, would know where to begin.
She certainly didn’t.
“How would we even know if we did find them?” Emma asked. “For all we know, we could have missed them somewhere along the way, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d already lived and died and we just missed it.”
Tessa sat up and rubbed her eyes while stifling a yawn. “I wouldn’t doubt it. I don’t even know if I want someone to be tied to me just because fate decreed it. Half a millennium ago, I would have said yeah, sure, bring it on. But now, I’m not whole anymore. Let’s face it, none of us are. The visions are all-consuming, and half the time I have no control over when or how they’ll show up. I don’t think I have much to offer anyone, let alone my Fated.” Spreading out her hands, she dropped them to the blanket. “How is that fair? Here’s your soul mate, but by the way she’s gone completely nuts. Have fun!”
Gwen sat on the edge of the bed and pushed her glasses up with one finger. “We might not be whole anymore but neither was Lexandria when she was about to jump off that cliff. We know we aren’t going to be alive much longer at the rate we’re going, anyway, so why shouldn’t we have a bit of fun before we kick the inevitable bucket? I’m just living with the assumption that I lost my Fated somewhere along the way. If I’m right, then whoever he was or might have been…I think he would want me to enjoy life. I know I wouldn’t want him to have waited around for me forever and been miserable.”
The first cycle of the Council had been led by a woman named Lexandria. The legend went that Lexandria had gone quite insane from using her gifts on the populace with such frequency. Minds had been her playground and she had taken one too many trips on that particular merry-go-round. Legend told she had left the rest of the Council on an unexpected trip to the Americas where she went to the cliffs overlooking the ocean. There she’d stood, debating whether or not the fall would kill her, when a warrior from one of the local native tribes came upon her. He had been smitten at the sight of the crazy woman with violet eyes. The moment he’d touched her, her insanity had vanished. The voices that had taken over her thoughts had been silent for the first time in centuries.
He had been the first Fated.
Six cycles of Council members later, and here they sat. Fated-less.
Looking away for a moment, Tessa spoke in a thoughtful tone, “If a hunky warrior like Lexandria’s came and wanted to help me out, I might go for it. Who knows, Emma? Perhaps we all might find a bit of happiness here, at least for a little while, even though it’s technically a job.”
Emma pulled Tessa and Gwen into a quick hug, careful to keep her skin from making contact with their clothes. “No matter what happens, I love you guys.”
* * * *
Damien shifted out of the way as Hunter reached into the cabinet and pulled a stack of plates down. Taking the plates to the table, Hunter then set them down at each place setting with a flourish. “They look mighty fine for old crones. Being so old, I’m sure they know every possible position…”
Bleu glanced up from where he was cutting vegetables for stir fry and laughed. “Get your mind out of the gutter. If they catch you talking like that, they might just remove that part of your anatomy to make a point.” Bleu waved the knife he was wielding in Hunter’s direc
tion for emphasis.
Hunter shuddered and protectively put a plate in front of his groin. Shaking his head, he responded, “No, surely, they wouldn’t do that to such a fine specimen.”
Damien opened the silverware drawer with one hand poured some oil into the frying pan with the other. “You and your specimen can get over here and put some forks on the table.”
“Rafe looked relieved to get them out of his Jeep. I guess you were right, they must’ve put him in his place. Did you guys see how fast he hightailed it out of here?” Bleu grinned.
“I saw it, it was right after Contessa gave him the stink eye. He’s almost a foot taller than her, but she gave him the same stare Mom used to give us when we were teens. The one that meant we were about to get our asses handed to us. On her, though, it was totally hot. She’s definitely a feisty one.” Hunter grinned unrepentantly while placing the cups at each setting.
Damien smiled to himself. His cousin was always after things he couldn’t have. It was almost an addiction. He loved the chase, even more so when it was a difficult one. A Council member would be a strenuous challenge to say the least. Damien looked forward to watching him fail miserably. It would be the first time any woman rejected his cousin’s advances.
“How much were you able to dig up on our new guests, Bleu?” If he was going to have the upper hand in this, he needed information about the women. If they could be trusted. If it was safe to leave them unattended.
Bleu wielded the knife he held with the same skill that he wielded a keyboard when he was on a computer. If there was anything to be found on the women, anything at all, his brother would be the one to find it. Bleu shrugged. “There wasn’t much. Different species have different legends about them. All spooky and cautionary. Some are completely outrageous, like the one where Gwen supposedly seduced Hitler. Who would believe such crap?”
Bleu ran the knife through the pepper he was cutting with practiced skill, the slices identical in size and shape. “They’re definitely old. I would put them at somewhere around two thousand years, and they’ve been idolized by some as avengers of sorts. They have impeccable track records, if all the legends are to be believed. Defending the innocent and eradicating the evil. Voodoo mind tricks and all that aside, if they’ve done even half of what the legends claim, then they’re pretty impressive. Though they somehow manage it without leaving any technological footprint that I can find.”
“That’s so badass. Do you think they wear spandex too, and have tool belts like Batman?” Hunter piped up from where he was setting out the last of the silverware.
Damien ignored him. The information on the women was rather vague, to say the least. He didn’t like walking into this blind. There was only one question that mattered at this point. “Can we trust them?”
Bleu seemed to consider his words before he answered, “From what I’ve read, the conversation I had with their eldest member over the phone when I asked them to come and how they’ve behaved so far…I would tentatively trust them. I’m sure we’ll find out if they can do their job soon enough, anyway.”
“I can always coax the information out of one of them. My means of interrogation are quite pleasurable,” boasted Hunter.
Bleu frowned. “It’s probably not the smartest move to have a one-night stand with a Council member.”
“Who said anything about it just being one night? Who knows, they might be here for an entire month,” Hunter replied, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Damien couldn’t stand it anymore. He turned, moving forward to brace his hands on the island. “Okay. Let’s assume for a moment you could actually convince her to sleep with you. Do you think you could satisfy a woman who’s slept with hundreds, if not thousands, of men before you and who knows everything there is to know on the subject?”
Even as he said it to Hunter, his own bear bristled at the idea that Emma might have been with hundreds of men. Her age rivaled that of the Roman Colosseum—even if she’d just slept with one man every year, it still added up. He tried not to be judgmental. He wouldn’t have had her alone and miserable for two millennia but neither did he like the idea of her with hordes of men. He had no reason to be possessive of a woman he’d just met but his bear seemed to have other ideas. Damien sighed and admonished his bear. Stop pacing, you overgrown furball, she isn’t ours. Who cares if she’s been with thousands of men?
I want her.
You can’t have her. Remember what happened last time? I won’t go down that road again. I won’t be blinded by her looks.
Damien’s bear snarled in opposition, raking claws at him. This was the first time his bear had ever voiced an outright opinion about a woman. The animal half of him always gave the impression he didn’t care one way or another about any of the previous relationships he’d had, but he sure was voicing his opinion now that they had three Council women in the house.
He wasn’t going to lie. He wanted to find his mate just as much as his bear did. He wanted it more than anyone could imagine, but a Council member? That would be a bit of a stretch. Not just a bit…it would be a giant stretch. A nice, gentle woman was what he needed, not an avenger who would never stay in one place for more than a few weeks. She’d be easy-going and nurturing, not have the mouth and temper of a sailor.
The last relationship Damien’d had, he’d tried to convince himself the woman was his mate. Beauty and beguiling smiles had distracted him from the underlying personality of a devious viper. He’d attempted to outsmart fate and it had been a waste of time. She’d only wanted him for his status and money. When he’d made it clear she wouldn’t have access to any of it, she’d split and left destruction in her wake.
After being duped by her, he wasn’t too keen about rushing into anything. Though his bear seemed to have other opinions, but they both quieted when the smell of vanilla and honey drifted down the staircase.
Chapter Four
#xa0;
The men had just finished placing everything on the table when Emma and her sisters entered the room. For a brief moment, Emma’s gaze met Damien’s. She grinned as his polite smile turned into a questioning frown when he heard what they were arguing about.
Tessa waved her arms around emphatically. “Are you kidding me? There’s no way Napoleon would be able to defeat Attila the Hun in a mud-wrestling contest. Seriously, Napoleon was practically a toothpick. Attila would just sit on him and squish, Napoleon jam.” Tessa smacked her hands together for emphasis.
Emma rolled her eyes. “Fine, I concede to your argument. Napoleon was a skinny twit. You’ve won this round but the war continues.” She sneaked glances at Damien as she placed her personal set of dishes on the table.
Gwen turned the page of her book but didn’t pry her gaze from the pages as she spoke, “Considering this war has been dragging on for the past millennium, I’ll finish it for you. Attila beats Napoleon, Attila then takes on his own mother. She boxes his ears and beats him with her wooden spoon, the end.”
Emma watched as Hunter sauntered up to Tessa and asked, “What’s this war about, Contessa?”
Tessa flipped her hair behind one shoulder with a delicate, manicured hand and answered, “A war of wits, to see who would be the ultimate fighter-slash-badass, besides ourselves, of course. We’re the queen badasses, so including us in the list of potential winners wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the competition. So far Attila is winning. He was the quintessential douchebag of his day and age.”
Emma chuckled as Tessa and Gwen took their seats. Taking an appreciative whiff of the food, she felt her mouth water in response. “Smells good.”
Bleu grabbed a roll and plopped it onto his plate next to his salad. “You can thank our mother for that. She was determined each of us learn to cook. She still swears it might be the one redeeming quality that will endear us to our future mates.”
Setting out her own cup, Emma then opened a small fabric pouch to reveal the bamboo fork and spoon she always carried with her. As she reached for her n
apkin, the sleeve of her shirt rode up, baring the delicate skin of her inner wrist to the thick wooden edge of the table.
One touch. That was all it took.
A thick cloud of memories swarmed into her mind. Cloying, they swirled and shoved until they took center stage. The cutting mass stretched until it surrounded her on all sides, blocking out her vision of anything else. Fragments crept into the farthest reaches of her mind and grabbed on tight, puncturing her already fragile psyche with clawed tips.
Images of people moved across her mind with blinding speed as she saw the world through the table’s perspective. Two giant bears. Being dragged through the snow to a small workshop. Chopped into pieces and put together in another form. Rambunctious cubs wrestling. Family dinners, holidays, birthdays. A frisky couple getting into it on top of the table. Karaoke. Hunter, Bleu. An older couple, different faces from the Clan… but no Damien. Not even a hint of his face anywhere in the memories.
What the hell? Why isn’t he there, this is his house—
Before the thought could finish taking hold, the world disappeared. Emma was unable to do anything besides experience the scenes before her. The memories were like hungry toddlers, always demanding her attention. They were never satisfied. Never quiet.
A whisper of a touch penetrated her senses as the memories wound to a dull finish. Determined not to embarrass herself any further, she started making her way back to reality. With one final shove, she pushed the mist back into the corner of her mind where it resided.
Tessa nudged Emma’s arm. “Emma, are you okay? Damien has been asking you a question for the past few minutes. Here, hon, your nose is bleeding.”
As the gray mist subsided, Emma was able to make out the shapes of the others at the table. Blinking to clear her vision, she took the napkin Tessa handed her and dabbed the trickle of dark crimson blood that meandered down over her lips. “Sorry, I zoned out for a second.” Delving into her mind, Emma reached out to Tessa with her senses, speaking to her telepathically.