by Shea Balik
Claws, talons, and even sharp teeth he could handle without trouble. Spiders and snakes that he didn’t even know were there before biting him, left him glad he was immortal. Not that it would have stopped him from his objective, but it did make it easier.
“I think we should go back and see if he is still there,” a woman’s voice said as Fritjof got closer. At least Wylie’s mother had some sense. “We’re never going to find another place we can hide Tess without help.”
“What if I’m right and he’s the reason they found us?” Wylie’s voice was rising in volume as he spoke. Good thing, no one but Fritjof had been following them. “I say we get as far away as we can.”
“And go where?” Wylie’s father asked. “Tess will stick out no matter where we take her.”
That was an understatement. There probably weren’t many locals this far into the jungle, but Fritjof had to imagine there were still a few who’d come upon their little farm. He had to admit to being shocked that the locals hadn’t taken matters into their own hands.
Often, those who didn’t live in society tended to have much stronger superstitions. Tess would have challenged many of those beliefs with her glowing skin and odd eye coloring. If he were being honest, Fritjof had no clue how he was going to get her to Colorado without anyone noticing her.
“This farm was our second option,” Wylie’s arms were waving all over the place as if he needed his whole body to convince his parents he was right. “We can try the first one again. Maybe that tribe has moved on.”
“Wylie.” His mother sounded exasperated. “They tried to take Tess and throw her into a fire.”
Oooookkkkaaayyy. Fritjof wasn’t sure he appreciated that returning to that scenario was more acceptable than coming to him for help, but he bit back the hurt that tried to bubble up within him.
Not wanting to hear any more of Wylie’s crazy ideas, Fritjof stepped through the drooping branches that were somewhat hiding the foursome. “I think the best thing is to get you all to Colorado where we can keep you safe,” Fritjof said.
Safe? You’ve been attacked twice in that house.
Fritjof did his best to slap an imaginary hand over his inner voice’s imaginary mouth. The last thing these people needed to hear was that they might not exactly be protected in Colorado. Safe was a relative term anyway. Technically, no one had died. That had to count for something, right?
CHAPTER 4
“No,” Wylie said without consulting his parents. “We’ll be fine on our own.”
“Really?” That damn sarcasm he heard in Fritjof’s voice was really bringing out Wylie’s inner bitch. “Because if it hadn’t of been for me, you’d all be dead right now.”
“If it hadn’t of been for you, they never would have found us in the first place.” Wylie wasn’t sure that was true, but if it meant winning this argument, he was willing to use it.
That was especially true if it got him away from the man who was causing all sorts of problems for Wylie. It wasn’t entirely a surprise that his body was reacting to Fritjof, considering he was hot as hell. Maybe, if it had just been that, he would have even offered himself to the tall warrior.
Except, there was the fact that Wylie could feel the judgment pouring off of Fritjof. It wasn’t unusual. He’d pretty much felt it his whole life.
Oh, he knew his parents loved him, but they never had understood him. They’d never even tried. When he was thirteen and started using colored lip gloss, his father had nearly had a heart attack. Six months later, after he began using eyeliner and mascara, his father had turned red, then purple.
He’d give his papa credit though, he never said a word. For four months. Like at all. Not one, ‘good morning.’ No, ‘How was your day?’ Definitely nothing resembling, ‘I love you.’
It had been a tense time, but eventually, his papa started to speak to him again. They never discussed Wylie’s penchant for wearing makeup, nor his choice when it came to his clothes, like the pink top and cut offs he was currently wearing. Even though his father hadn’t ever yelled at him, or, worse, told him to change, he also hadn’t exactly accepted him either.
His mama hadn’t been much better. The only difference between them had been that his mama hadn’t stop speaking to him. Then again, she also had complained about the way he dressed, especially when they moved to the Amazon.
She’d claimed it was only because she didn’t want to draw any attention to themselves with Tess there. Wylie just didn’t know how to be anything other than who he was. The plain, brown boots he was forced to wear because there was no other selection when they went to town, already gave him hives. The thought of having to do the same with his clothes, or go without makeup, left him cold inside.
So having people look at him weird wasn’t new. But it didn’t make it any easier, especially when his dick was practically standing up and begging for a chance to be with this man who was too damn smug for his own good. Well, Wylie’s own good, at least.
“I didn’t bring the Fae with me.” There was a lot of frustration in Fritjof’s voice, but that only served to piss Wylie off more. “As I told you, princess, they were already coming here. They aren’t going to stop searching for you, either.”
Then those too knowing eyes turned to where Tess was hiding behind mama’s legs. “And I won’t even mention what they will do if they find out about her.”
“You mean what happened had nothing to do with Tess?” Papa asked. There was no way to describe how devastated Wylie felt when his father’s glare landed on him. “It was Wylie’s fault?”
It wasn’t easy, but Wylie wanted to believe his papa didn’t actually think he’d done anything to deserve what had happened. If only the slight sneer that twisted his lips wasn’t there, maybe Wylie would have been able to put his fears of being blamed aside.
A hand touched his lower back, but instead of startling Wylie, he felt comforted to find Fritjof right there beside him, offering him support. In a way it helped, for it was nice to have someone finally stand with him. On the other hand, it also meant his father’s obvious animosity towards him wasn’t just in his mind.
“It’s not Wylie who brought them here.” Fritjof grimaced as if he realized that wasn’t accurate. “Well, he did, but not because of anything he’d done.”
“Doesn’t matter,” his papa said. “Will they come back because of him?”
Wylie’s heart stopped, he was sure of it. Never before would he have imagined his parents would ask him to leave, yet he was sure that’s exactly what his papa was getting at.
“Dùghall, stop it,” his mama chastised. “You heard the man. This wasn’t Wylie’s fault.”
Not sure if Tess understood something was wrong, or she just needed to be closer to Wylie after everything that had happened, Wylie wasn’t sure, but she suddenly ran from his mama to him with her arms in the air for him to pick her up. At five, she was getting a bit big for him to hold for long, but there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, including throwing out his back, if she needed him.
But instead of settling on his hip like she normally did, he was shocked when she reached out to Fritjof. Her silent request for him to be the one to hold her wasn’t something he’d ever expected. Because they had to keep her from strangers, she normally ran from anyone she didn’t know, like she had when Fritjof had arrived at their farmhouse.
But she wasn’t the only one who had him speechless, for Fritjof didn’t even hesitate to take her in his arms and cuddle her close as if she belonged there with him. Wylie was so damn stunned, a slight breeze could have knocked him on his ass.
“Look,” Fritjof said as Tess tucked her head against his neck, causing a twinge of jealously Wylie shouldn’t be having, giving him a vision of being tucked closer to Fritjof so he could put his head on the other side of his neck.
“Wylie and his other friends that you all used to meet with each summer, are part of this curse because their twenty-first birthdays land on one of the ritual dates this yea
r. They have to come together on Samhain in order to seal the Veil permanently and the Fae, obviously, don’t want that to happen.”
Fritjof’s mention of his friends was enough to get Wylie’s mind off of the desire to curl up next to the big man and absorb some of that strength that radiated off of him. “Ryley and Mingus will be there?”
“I’ve heard them mention Mingus, but we haven’t found him yet,” Fritjof said. “But Ryley, Kegan, Cullen, Dermot, and Teagan, as well as the rest of their families that survived, are with us in Colorado.”
“What do you mean, that survived?” His mama was eyeing Tess, like she wanted to rip her away from Fritjof up until that moment. Now she just looked downright scared.
Fritjof waved a hand in the general direction of the farm. “You saw what came after you, today. My friends and I aren’t always lucky enough to save everyone.”
All the color left mama’s face. “Who’s left? Of their parents, I mean,” she amended, clearly not caring about anyone else, which didn’t seem like her. At least not the mama Wylie always imagined her to be.
But they’d moved to this isolated place before he’d really known much about his parents. As a child, they seemed… well, larger than life. Now that he was an adult, he was beginning to realize they were human like anyone else. He loved them with everything he had, but there were some things about them he didn’t necessarily like.
“None of them,” Fritjof told them baldly. Apparently, the man wasn’t one to sugar-coat things. “Wylie’s friends and a few of their siblings, cousins, and nephews are all that’s left.”
His mama whirred on Wylie’s papa. “There’s no one left to perform the protection spell. If the Fae learned of Tess today, we’ll never be able to keep her safe.”
It was there, written in his papa’s eyes, but Wylie didn’t want to believe what he was seeing and prayed to God he was wrong. But it was hard to miss the mix of relief as well as the way his gaze was darting in the direction of the river, as if he were planning an escape.
“Then we can’t stay here,” his papa said. He looked up at Fritjof. “Are you still willing to take us to Colorado?”
There was something in Fritjof’s eyes that had Wylie wondering if he was able to see right through the line of bull his father was feeding him. It would break his heart if he was right, but Wylie just knew by the time they arrived in Colorado, his parents would no longer be with them.
“Of course,” Fritjof said, instead of calling the man out about his real plan. “Assuming it’s still there, I have a boat at the river. I’ll have to contact my friends to get us a charter plane, since we can’t exactly take Tess on a commercial flight.”
His papa’s head bobbed up and down like one of those stupid plastic dolls. Hell, even the same grin was there, though it looked like it was painted on, as if he were happy to go to Colorado.
“Come Tess,” his mama said as she held out her arms for their granddaughter.
But Tess adamantly refused to leave Fritjof’s arms. “It’s okay,” Fritjof said, his hand gently rubbing up and down her slim back. “I’ve got her.”
His mama glared at Fritjof for daring to not give her granddaughter back. Then she glared at her husband, for Wylie was fairly sure his mama knew exactly what he was planning and she wasn’t on board with it. Not in the least little bit.
If Wylie was lucky, she would either talk his papa out of abandoning them, or maybe, just maybe, Wylie read the whole situation wrong and his papa was just relieved to hand some of the responsibility for keeping his family safe to Fritjof for a while.
Yeah. That was probably it. Surviving in the Amazon hadn’t been easy on any of them and his papa had taken the brunt of it, especially in the beginning.
Although, over the years, Wylie had begun to take over most of the chores, as well as learning to shoot a gun and wield a knife to protect them against the locals. Still, his papa had felt it was his job to ensure no one did them any harm, especially when it came to Tess.
It was the reason Wylie attributed the distance his father put between them all. Except, as he got older, it was becoming harder and harder to make himself believe that. Instead, Wylie feared his papa resented his family.
“Are you ready to head out?” Fritjof asked all of them.
Mama was still glaring at the man, but nodded. His papa didn’t bother to answer, just started walking toward the river.
Wylie felt those golden eyes land on him in question. Shrugging, he said, “I guess that’s a yes. So, this curse, what exactly does it entail?”
By the time Fritjof told him all of it, Wylie wished liked hell he hadn’t asked in the first place.
“So, you’re telling me you were born in the eight hundreds?” There were many parts of the story Wylie was stuck on. Much more terrifying parts. That was why he started with the part where Fritjof claimed he was more than twelve hundred years old.
“Yes,” Fritjof said with more than a little laughter in his voice. In fairness, it had been Wylie’s fourth time asking the same question. He had altered it a bit each time, but essentially he kept asking for the same detail over and over again.
It was that or ask things he really didn’t want the answers to – ever.
CHAPTER 5
“What does immoral mean?” Hearing Tess speak was a shock. Up until then, she’d stayed silent, at least around Fritjof. He wasn’t sure why she’d decided he was the one who needed to carry her, but he had to admit to liking the feeling of having her slight form in his arms.
Before that fateful raid he and his friends went on, Fritjof had always imagined getting married and having kids of his own. Of course, at the time he hadn’t known he was gay. Then again, to live the life his parents had, he probably would have ignored those impulses and found himself a wife to start a family.
The memories of those happier times growing up with parents who were blissfully in love were shoved back into the past where they belonged. It had been a hard lesson, but Fritjof had learned early in life that happily ever after didn’t exist.
“Do you mean immortal?” he asked Tess, smiling down at her mispronouncing the word into something completely different.
Her head bobbed as she leaned back in his arms so she could look at him. It wasn’t easy to stare into those bright violet eyes with specks of pink and blue. They were so unusual, so… strange, it made him want to either look away, or stare hard so he could pick them apart, speck by speck. Both of which would most likely make Tess feel uncomfortable, something Fritjof refused to do to the little girl, who already would have a challenging life.
“It means that I can’t die, ever,” Fritjof told her. There was no point in not being honest. She’d learn soon enough, especially when she was around Bryce and Gillie, the two youngest of their group.
“Wait a minute.” Wylie sounded as if he was about to find a way to debunk that statement. He was in for a shock, because no matter the scenario, Fritjof couldn’t die. “Are you telling me if someone shot you in the head, you’d live?”
It was impossible not to grin when he said, “Not only will I survive that, but if I was decapitated, I’d still live.”
Wylie stopped in his tracks, forcing Fritjof to turn around and face him when he hadn’t resumed for several steps. The pale face, wide blue eyes, and jaw hanging down to the ground was priceless. He couldn’t explain it but he was enjoying teasing the somewhat audacious man.
It was nice to stun Wylie speechless, even if it was short lived. “No way,” Wylie finally said, clearly not believing a word Fritjof had said.
“Yes way,” Fritjof told him. “And, yes, I know that from personal experience.”
The most wonderful sound rang out through the trees, echoing along the canopies. Wylie had tilted his head back and laughed. A real, deep belly laugh that even had Tess giggling, even though she had no clue why they doing it.
“No way,” Wylie finally said when he could finally speak. Then he waved a hand up and down Fritjof’s body.
“Clearly, you aren’t headless, so how is any of that possible?”
Fritjof reached for one of his knives. When he tried to put Tess on the ground, she started to panic, and he knelt down next to her. “I’ll carry you again in a minute, pumpkin, but I need to show Wylie something first, okay?”
Those violet eyes of hers, regarded Fritjof for several long seconds before she said, “Promise?”
Fritjof crossed his finger over his heart. “Cross my heart,” he told her.
He waited until she nodded her consent before standing once more. Then, without another word, he slit the blade of the knife across his forearm. Blood dripped down his skin in rivulets to the ground, soaking into the dirt below.
“Gross,” Wylie said, even as he stepped closer. Those blue eyes were mesmerized as he watched Fritjof’s skin already starting to pull together and close.
He’d kept the cut shallow enough that it wouldn’t take long to heal, yet give Wylie the proof he needed that Fritjof wasn’t lying. It wasn’t like stabbing himself in the heart, but then again, since they still had a long journey with unknown perils before them, Fritjof hadn’t thought that would be a good idea.
By the time the bleeding stopped, Wylie’s now ashen skin made him look like he was about to pass out. But Tess was already demanding to be picked up, going so far as to climb up Fritjof’s leg.
“You promised,” she demanded when he went to put a hand on Wylie to keep him from dropping to the ground.
“I know pumpkin, but Wylie isn’t looking so good right now. Maybe we should get him sitting so he can rest first,” he told her. “Then I can hold you again.”
Suddenly concerned for Wylie, Tess went right up to him and tapped him on the thigh. “Uncle Wylie, are you okay? Do you need to sit?”