Roark slashed out a hand, wishing there were a body to take his aggression out on. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Leave it alone or show yourself and fight me.”
“Is everything brought down to meaningless physical violence to you, young one?”
“Who are you calling young one? And it’s not meaningless when pounding on you would make me feel better.” He didn’t bother looking for the man behind the voice anymore. Instead he sank to the ground, drew his knees up and rested his pounding head on them.
For a few precious moments, no words were bandied about or insults traded as Roark let the absence of his precious Calder sink in. Damn it, why didn’t he try harder to stop her or at least grab on to her before she’d been swept away? He could have talked to her, seduced her into staying with him long enough to understand what the hell was going on inside him.
Fae never mated for life, Calder had been right on that score. What she didn’t know because he didn’t tell her was leprechauns did mate…for eternity. Without Calder, his eternity looked less and less appealing with each tedious minute ticking by.
A few truths slammed into Roark, almost knocking him over with their glaring light. His mate was a shifter…so the fuck what? Most of his people never met their soul halves in any life so why would they judge him? Yeah, his family might be considered royal by, well, everyone, but only in the Fae community. Calder wasn’t just good enough for him she was too good for him and well above his snotty bickering family. Just once he would have loved to be there to see his Liaria put them in their well-deserved place with only a word or two.
It would never happen now, not once he’d allowed her to leave believing he felt nothing for her but the passing fancy of a new fuck.
“Reality setting in there, finally?”
“Why are you still here?” he asked without his normal anger. Too tired for anger, too depressed for a fight.
“Well, I’m wanting to see if you managed to grow a set. Or if you’re going to spend the rest of your very long immortal life watching the grass not grow in limbo.”
He lay back on the cool green grass and closed his suddenly weary eyes. “How does any of this matter to a figment of my imagination?”
“Is that what you’ve chosen to call me?”
“Better than telling people the voices are talking to me again. I’m sure there’s some wing in the palace for crazy relatives. As miserable as I feel now I don’t think being confined and spelled would make me any happier.”
“What would make you happy?”
“Calder,” he replied without thinking.
“Then why don’t you go get her?”
Still not bothering to open his eyes, Roark answered, absently waving a hand in the air. “She left. She knows I’m the one who’s not good enough for her. Too little too late, oh ghost of Christmas something.”
“It’s February,” the oh so helpful voice reminded him.
“I ran out of non-insulting names to call you. Deal with it or leave. No, in fact, why don’t you just leave. Both of us will be happier.”
“If I leave you’ll wallow. And the good goddess knows no one does wallowing better than a moody leprechaun. I can’t leave so you have to get better or get over her.”
Chapter Seven
“Your face gets any longer and we’ll be able to use your bottom lip to trap catfish.”
Calder let a quiet sigh escape before turning an empty smile to her father. “Papa, my lip isn’t sticking out and there’s nothing wrong with me.”
Instead of answering her, Jean-Pierre Douget sat down, his long, jean-clad legs dangling off the edge of the pier as his bare feet swung above the tea-colored bayou water. “Bébé, lying to your papa sends you straight to hell.” He wrapped one tanned arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “You’ll always be my baby, my little girl, and little girls should never keep secrets from their papas.”
Oh how she wanted to spill everything out to the first man she’d ever loved. Her father, leader of Louisiana shifters, had shoulders strong enough to carry her burdens easily. However, the problem of sharing involved giving the man who changed her diapers details of her sex life and Calder knew neither one of them were ready for that.
“Oh Papa, I’m a silly fool and I let the mating heat suck all the common sense out of my head.”
A gentle press of lips to her forehead. “Calder, you know more about the mating heat than I ever will. The heat never came into play between your mother and I, but we still had over sixty good years together. The thing of it is, mating is different for everyone, cher, and only you can say if you were wrong or not.”
“But he’s an ass,” she protested, even as her stupid heart lurched at the mere thought of Roark and his stupid Leprechaun self.
“And he’s your ass. Now,” JP dropped his arm and his voice turned alpha, “will this Irish bastard come after you? Or will your brothers and I need to make a trip?”
“What’s the point? So the four of you can force a man to be with me? One of us will disappear the first chance we get. No, he’s better off with Nob and his own people. Besides, he’d be killed within minutes of stepping foot in our territory. Roark is definitely on the lover side of the fence.”
Her father didn’t respond and a comfortable silence settled between them as they enjoyed the peace of the bayou. The water ran swiftly beneath their feet as various native birds flew and sang overhead. Snakes and turtles plopped in the water, making the music of nature sing sweetly in her ears.
“I’ve missed this.” Calder broke the quiet to lean her head against her father’s muscled arm. “Missed you too.”
“And what about your brothers?”
“Haven’t you drowned them yet?”
“Nah, your mama, bless her soul, would haunt the both of us if we let something happen to her precious baby boys.” A hint of laughter carried in his deep voice.
“Those baby boys haven’t been babies in years. And a good dunking might help clean their brains once in a while,” she teased back. Family, she knew from painful experience, was allowed to do anything they wanted to each other just short of death. However, let anyone outside the family try to harm a hair on her head and her brothers would break out alpha all over their asses. As Tommy Walt Sawyer learned the hard way when they were juniors.
“Will he follow you here?” Her father, damn his stubborn Southern pride, never let an issue drop until he’d squeezed every last drop of information out of it.
She shrugged and tried not to let the idea of seeing Roark in her home go to her head. “I doubt it. All he knows is I’m from Louisiana and I’m a lioness. Good luck tracking me down with so little to go on.” If he’d wanted to know more the man would have asked, right?
Calder inwardly winced as her conscience reminded her how little time they actually spent talking. Roark had tried, but she’d been more interested in sating her mating heat. Though in those few days she’d gotten to know him even as she’d been trying to avoid it.
Shifters and Fae weren’t known to mix well or happily. There were no records in their Mystic library showing a union between the two actually working out. Then again, none of those had been results of both mating heat and the Liaria bond. Something Nob tried to explain while she’d stuffed clothes in her suitcase. Ignoring him and his logic had been so much easier than ignoring Roark and his logical debates.
“Then maybe you made a mistake about the mating? Those blessed by the bond are incapable of not learning about each other. It’s almost a compulsion to be there for the other in any way they might need. Or so I’ve always heard.”
“Yeah, well, there are others ways to spend your time,” she muttered before getting to her feet. The warm, weathered boards under her feet grounded her to the here and now, making her time in Ireland seem like a distant but perfect dream. “Come on, let’s get to the house. Gumbo’s been simmering long enough, don’t you think?”
Moving with a grace usually found in
men much younger, JP rose to his full height and pinned tawny eyes on her. “Just because you think the conversation is over doesn’t mean it actually is. If you are indeed mated, you’ll need your man around before your next cycle hits.”
“You would send me to a man just to prevent a few fights?” Mating heat wasn’t pretty when the female was unwilling, toss in mated with no mate in sight and things were bound to get ugly.
“Don’t be a brat, Calder. Your brothers and I will die to protect you from any outlaws roaming, but unless you agree to house arrest then one day we won’t be there when you need us.” The heavy weight of guilt in his voice sent her heart spiraling. How could she ever think for a moment that her family would send her away? The Douget family held this land since before the upstart renegades dumped tea in the Boston harbor over two hundred years ago.
“I love you, Papa,” she said softly. Then quickly lifted to her toes and pressed a kiss to his beard-scruffy cheek.
“You are my heart, cher. Make sure you keep yourself safe.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” she responded as they walked arm-in-arm down to the dock and back to the big house sitting uphill. Delicious scents of gumbo wafted to them as a breeze teased them with the promise of colder weather.
“All you can do, Calder, is your best. Anyone who asks for more is a greedy fool.” JP stopped, lifted his nose to the air and positioned his much larger frame in front of his daughter. “Get to the fishing cabin,” he ordered curtly.
Calder lifted her nose but she smelled nothing but the familiar scents of home and bayou. “What’s going on, Papa?”
“Now, Calder,” his voice stern as the alpha emerged. “Don’t think to disobey me. Go now and don’t return until one of us comes to fetch you.”
The power and will of her father and alpha pressed down on her. If she hadn’t been a strong lioness in her own right, Calder’s knees would have buckled beneath the sheer weight of his command. “Yes, Papa.”
Then she turned and ran for the small boat kept for quick maneuvering through the tricky water. Without bothering to look back, she untied the light aluminum boat, shoved off shore and flipped the key. The powerful engine turned over with a rumble, and with a heartfelt prayer, Calder smoothly maneuvered her way out of the shallows. Before long the familiar tangle of moss hid her retreat from even the most discerning eyes.
* * * * *
They attacked all at once, an attack he expected so Roark had plenty of time to throw up a defensive shield. Fighting was natural to a man, but these creatures roaring and clawing at his invisible barrier might be part of Calder’s family and he could take no chances if he intended to win her back.
“Stop being fools, ya canna get to me. Back off, tell me where my Calder is and I won’t hurt ya.” Reasonable, yes Roark felt very reasonable considering he wanted to collapse to his knees and beg his way back to the woman haunting his every waking and sleeping moment. Not to mention he hadn’t had a decent meal or clean clothes since Calder left his home. Nob in revolutionary mindset was a scary thing indeed.
“Boy, don’t toss out promises your ass can’t cover. You’re in the middle of my pride. We could wait you out, your barrier wouldn’t hold forever, then we’ll dispense with your remains and feed the gators at the same time.”
“You have got to be related to Calder,” he said flatly.
“Lord love a nutra,” the tall, heavily muscled man groaned. “You must be the Irish bastard who broke my daughter’s heart and sent her home with her tail between her legs and her pride all but gone.”
Oh this wasn’t going well at all. Originally he’d planned to sweep in, locate Calder, seduce her into forgiving him then when she was weak from passion explain his bonding to her.
Instead he’d landed knee-deep in the lion’s pride with one of the largest men he’d ever seen glaring daggers at him. Not to mention questioning his parentage.
“Bastard’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” he questioned while still holding his barrier against the large, growling group looking at him as though he were a midday snack. “I’m the proof of my parents’ loving devotion to each other.”
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” a dark-haired shifter exclaimed.
Roark shrugged. “Me, I like to think a pretty white stork delivered me to my innocent virginal mother as a reward for her pious behavior.”
“You’re not the only one about to lose their lunch,” another shifter complained. “This guy’s nuttier than Great Aunt Gertie and she talks to socks.”
“Eh, there’s nothing wrong in that,” Roark objected. For some stupid reason he couldn’t explain, he rather liked tweaking these lions’ tails. “So long as she doesn’t expect the socks to talk back.”
At his words, the rest of the four-footed warriors shifted back to their human forms, clothes and all.
The big blond leader crossed massive muscled arms over his chest, stood with his legs apart and shook his head. “Ah hell,” he muttered, his head dropping nearly to his chest before he looked up again. His tawny gaze held a world of disappointment. “We can’t kill him.”
Those around him objected, some more vehemently than others, before the pride leader hushed them with a slice of his hand. “Our pride never kills the young, the old or the mentally challenged.” He tilted his head in Roark’s direction before continuing, “I think we can all agree this one falls in the nuts category.”
Murmurs of assent followed his words even as Roark tried to work up some righteous anger. Nothing but amusement filled him instead. “I’d rather be barmy than sane,” he quietly agreed, forgetting about the super shifter hearing.
“Then I’d say you should be pretty damn happy right about now,” a younger version of the pride leader said, stepping closer to the invisible shield. “Since we’ve agreed not to kill you—”
“Yet,” another voice spoke out.
“Then you can drop your pretty shield and convince us why you deserve to live after making my sister unhappy,” the other man continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted.
Well shit, Roark cursed inwardly. Didn’t it just figure his Liaria would be the daughter of the mountain masquerading as a pride leader? Taking a chance his in-laws wouldn’t kill him without checking with Calder first, Roark called the magic back.
The bubble disappeared without a sound and the man claiming to be Calder’s brother closed the small distance between them and threw his arm around Roark’s shoulders.
“Let’s talk then we’ll have a drink, brother.” He gave Roark no chance to object and pulled the magic-wielding leprechaun in the direction of a large log house complete with wraparound porch.
“If you offer the drink first it’ll make the talking a mite easier,” Roark countered, feeling the desperate need for a drop or twelve of liquid courage.
Never in his long life had Roark ever feared anyone or any situation. However, in this time and place he couldn’t use magic to defend himself, not if he ever expected Calder to speak to him again.
“Oh we’ll have those drinks, then you’ll tell me the secret to getting my sister to close her mouth for longer than it takes her to draw another breath.”
“You think Calder talks too much?” A complete shock to Roark as he hadn’t seen any signs of her being overly talkative. They’d talked, but never too much in his opinion. “Aye, Calder’s brother, we’ll talk, but not about your sister talking too much. I think she’s perfect as is. Maybe it’s you who needs a change of mind.” He swung his own arm around the taller man, feeling lighter than he had in days.
“The name’s Trevon Douget, Calder’s older and better-looking brother.” By this time they’d reached the front door.
“Ya know,” Roark offered as he stepped through the door, “I can fix that slight eyesight problem you have.”
Dropping his arm, Trevon walked through the large open room to grab two beers out of a huge, restaurant-size refrigerator. “What eye problem would that be?”
Roark g
rabbed the beer, twisted the cap off and downed half the contents before answering Trevon’s question. “The wee problem where you think you’re anywhere near as attractive as your sister. It’s obviously not true so therefore you have an eye impairment.”
Prepared for numerous scenarios, Roark almost jumped his skin when Trevon laughed out loud instead of physically or verbally attacking him. “Your family’s a bit on the daft side, did you know that?”
Wiping tears of mirth from his tawny eyes, Trevon leaned over, hands on knees as he caught his breath. “You’re perfect for each other. My sister has no common sense either. Between the two of you you’ll give my father a grandkid warped enough to keep his attention off my brothers and I. Thanks for that.”
Not sure what to make of this change in attitude, Roark rested his hips against the dark granite countertop and took a good look at his surroundings.
Money built this room and the ones after it, but family made it home. The little touches here and there turned the kitchen from a showplace to a family gathering spot. Mismatched coffee mugs rested on a wooden tree while magnets with funny sayings or sentimental messages were scattered all over the stainless steel refrigerator.
No, not just a safe house for the alpha and his family, but a home made up of a thousand memories. Roark drew the consistency into his lungs and held the feeling there, secure for just a moment of his place in the cosmos.
Bare feet soundlessly crossed the bamboo floor as Trevon moved to hand him another beer. “Drink it,” Calder’s brother advised him. “Dad’s either waiting on us to kill each other or for you to hunt my sister down.”
Happily Roark exchanged the empty glass bottle for a fresh one, tilted his head back and took a long draw on the chilled liquid. “So which would you prefer? Killing each other or hunting you sister?”
Crossing bare ankles, Trevon mimicked Roark’s pose. “Killing each other is too damn much work. It’s too hot outside to bury your pretty corpse anyway. My vote is for you to sniff Calder out.”
GettingLuckyinGalway Page 9