by Cari Z
His stomach was probably turning somersaults by now. Devon wanted a shower, coffee and food, in that order. First task: getting his ass over to the bathroom again. He’d already done it once, how hard could it be?
Pretty fucking hard, apparently. Of course, Devon had the brilliant idea of getting into his bag and rummage for new clothes, and from the sound he made as he awkwardly crashed down to his knees on the hardwood floor, he expected Rio to be up and swinging. But he slept on, oblivious, more relaxed than Devon had ever seen him before. Devon grabbed a pair of designer jeans and a t-shirt that looked amazing on him, then staggered to the bathroom.
One long hot shower, a shave (he resolved to thank his fathers for keeping his old electric razor) and a toothbrushing later and Devon felt about as normal as he could. Very, very carefully, he opened the bathroom door and headed out to the hall, keeping one hand on the wall but not stumbling nearly as much as he thought he would.
Ren and Jamie were in the kitchen, Ren at the stove cooking what smelled like grilled cheese sandwiches, and Jamie playing with his tiny portable keyboard. The kid had a gift for music, and even at three he played better than Devon could ever hope to. Jamie saw him first.
“Dev!” He climbed down from the chair and padded over to Devon, hugging him around one leg. Devon couldn’t feel it, but from the way Jamie was biting his lower lip he was putting a lot of oomph into it, and so Devon figured he’d better play along.
“Wow, Jamie, what have you been eating? You’re almost as strong as I am!”
The little boy exhaled explosively. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Jamie looked momentarily buoyed, but then his face fell. “But I can’t pick you up yet.”
“Well, I’m very heavy,” Devon consoled him. “Trust me, in a little while, you’ll be able to lift me no problem.”
“Okay.” Just like that Jamie was happy again. Devon couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d been so genuinely innocent and easy to please. Not even when he was younger than Jamie. This kid was going to grow up different, though, grow up better. His dads would make sure of that. Speaking of dads…
“Where’s Dad?”
“Almost home,” Ren said, sliding one perfect grilled cheese sandwich onto a plate and setting it in front of Jamie. The boy accepted it eagerly, grabbing the bottle of ketchup on the table and spraying a massive red lump of it next to his sandwich.
Ren watched Devon struggle for a moment with the distance from the door to the nearest chair before abandoning his task and helping him to sit down. Jamie looked at them curiously, but they both pretended everything was fine. “Would you like a sandwich too?” he asked.
“I’d love one, but you should probably feed Chloe first,” Devon said.
Ren rolled his eyes. “Chloe’s going through a phase where she only eats Lunchables, except at breakfast. She should come and eat, though. Chloe!” he called out the kitchen window. “Lunchtime!”
“She’s in the pond?”
“Up to her knees. She wants to be the next Crocodile Hunter or something, she’s always bringing home tadpoles in jars and salamanders in little cages.” Ren put new pieces of bread into the pan. “She writes down what she sees and takes gigs of pictures. Her parents are taking her to Hawaii next week and she wants to be prepared.”
Devon frowned. “The Mayhews are taking her away?”
“Just for a few weeks, but yes.”
“When did they decide this?”
“We talked to them two days ago. It was a surprise decision on their part, apparently.” Ren turned around and eyed Devon. “You think it has anything to do with the business you’re working on right now?”
“Maybe,” Devon said. He’d have said more but suddenly Chloe was there, her pants rolled way up her legs, her hands and feet both wet but clean. Daisy and Maggie were right behind her, and neither of them was anywhere near as clean.
“Oh no.” Ren looked at the dogs and gestured sharply. “Out!” he commanded. They both left immediately. Chloe looked embarrassed.
“Sorry, Dad, I forgot to clean them off too,” she said, then ran over and kissed Devon on the cheek. “Hi!”
“Hi. What are you hunting for today, Miss Biologist?”
Chloe, skinned knees, dirty feet and all, had the most flair for the dramatic out of any of them. She was nine, and watched almost nothing but the Animal Planet and Discovery channels. “Todaay,” she said with an exaggerated Australian accent, “Oi’m stokkin the woily foire-bellied toad. Oi’ve caught three already, all of ‘em beauts!” She held up a little plastic box with a flourish and sure enough, inside were three small toads with orange bellies.
“Nice,” Devon said appreciatively.
“Nice,” Jamie echoed before going back to his grilled cheese.
“Thanks!” She set the toads down and hopped over to the fridge to grab a Lunchable.
“Sure you don’t want a sandwich?” Ren asked as he flipped the one in the pan. Devon was kind of hoping she’d say no, and he wasn’t disappointed.
“Daddy,” Chloe sighed as only a preteen girl could, “I have to get used to field rations if I’m going to survive in the Amazon.” She peeled back the plastic and started to pull apart the little towers of crackers, cheese and processed meat. Wisps of dark red hair fell across her face, but she ignored them.
“Here.” Devon received a grilled cheese and a mug of fresh coffee from his dad. “Eat up.”
“Thanks.”
Chloe looked at Ren. “Aren’t you eating, Daddy?”
“I already ate,” he said, and only Devon knew he was lying. Ren ate next to nothing when his husband wasn’t around. Chloe just now seemed to be noticing her other father’s absence.
“Dad’s not back yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Stupid Angelo,” Chloe grumbled. “He’s got nuclear capability.” She looked up to see a trio of confused stares. “It’s from Gossip Girl,” she defended. “It means he could go off and all that would be left are the cockroaches.”
“Leave your brother alone,” Ren said firmly. “He’s still adjusting to being with us.”
“He’d adjust better if he didn’t run away so much,” Chloe huffed. The expression on her face was exactly like one Devon had seen on her mother Elli a hundred times, and he had to choke back a laugh. “It’s not like it does him any good. Dad always finds him, always. He can find anybody.”
“True,” Devon agreed, because yeah, his father Emile really could find anyone. Devon didn’t know how he did it, but he did know that once he’d been coherent enough to tell his dads about the people he’d been chained to before he escaped, Emile had found them, and Renard had done the rest. “Hey, you’re doing a lot better with your control,” Devon said suddenly, knowing his dad wanted to change the subject. “I could barely feel your allure at all.”
“Thanks!” Chloe beamed brightly at him. “Dads have been working with me on it really hard, especially now that I’m going on a trip with Mom and Pop. I promised that I wouldn’t make them do anything for me at all if they didn’t already want to.”
“I’m sure you’ll do very well.”
“I will.” Chloe’d had a few bad incidents involving her parents when her temper had gotten the better of her as a small child, but she’d been here for half of her life now, and she’d quickly understood the importance of controlling her allure and not letting it influence others, or herself, too much. Sometimes she seemed like nine going on twenty-nine.
“I take it Rio is still sleeping in,” Ren said, looking pointedly at Devon’s sandwich until he took a bite. The cheese was a little congealed but still warm, and it was deliciously buttery. Devon chewed every mouthful carefully, not wanting to chomp down his own tongue or swallow a bite that was too large and not know that he needed to cough because of having no gag reflex.
Holy shit…he had no gag reflex. This would’ve been a fucking awesome time to go down on Rio, if only Devon could have been sur
e he wouldn’t accidentally bite the guy while he was going at it. What a waste.
“He’s big,” Jamie commented, looking up from where he was plunking out the melody of Claire de Lune.
“Yes he is,” Devon agreed wholeheartedly. “Very big. Huge.”
Chloe looked thoughtful. “Do you think he could wrestle a crocodile?”
“I think if anyone could wrestle a crocodile, he could. Heck, he probably has. You can ask him after he wakes up and has some lunch.”
“Okay.” She ate another little pile of perfectly round Lunchable food, then said, “Will you be better soon?”
Naturally she’d noticed. “Another couple of days,” Devon said.
Jamie’s eyes widened. “You’re sick?”
“I’m just a little sick,” Devon reassured him, and for a moment it even felt true. “I’ll be okay.”
“Sure?”
“Sure I’m sure.” Because the other option is a fit of rage that would probably end with me injuring myself.
“Pssht, he’s gonna be fine,” a new voice said from the door, and they all turned and looked at Rio, who wore cargo pants and a dark blue Henley and looked absolutely edible. “Nothing and no one can keep your brother down. A few days and he’ll be right as rain.” Rio sniffed the air and looked at Ren. “Mind if I use the pan while it’s still hot?”
“Yes, I mind. You’re a guest. Sit down, I’ll feed you. Grilled cheese okay?”
“Sounds great,” Rio said, and took the seat next to Devon. Devon could smell his own aftershave on Rio’s cheeks, which was a sweet, deliberate touch from the other man, one more way to engage Devon’s remaining senses.
Rio leaned close to Devon’s ear. “I called Maria, checked in. She was still working on Grey’s location, but managed to find camera footage of him in the city, so. At least that much of the intel’s good.”
That felt like way more of a relief than it should have been. Devon guessed that if Lynlis’s part of the deal was working out, it was that much more likely that she wasn’t bullshitting him about getting his body back to normal.
“Hello,” Chloe said, holding out her hand. There was some dirt under the fingernails. “I’m Chloe Elizabeth Mayhew-Harper.”
Rio shook her hand. “That’s a lot of name,” he said. “I’m Rio Pagani, but call me Rio.”
“I shall.” Oh, there was that arrogant nod, like she was a queen in her swamp-smelling clothes and bare feet. “So, I need to know something.”
“What’s that?”
“If you can wrestle a crocodile,” she said matter-of-factly. “And if you can, then you need to teach me, because my show will be much better if I know how to wrestle a croc. In the interest of science.”
“Riiight.” Rio rubbed a hand over his bare head and stared assessingly at Chloe for a moment, but she was dead serious. “As it turns out, I do know how to wrestle a croc.”
“Really?” Chloe’s eyes went wide. “How?”
“Well, it depends how big they are. The bigger ones are actually safer to handle, ‘cause the little ones are more flexible, so they can spin around and bite you easier. Anyhow, you have to grab them by the tail, then pull them back between your legs in one smooth motion.” Rio demonstrated with empty hands as best he could. “Then you jump on their backs and tuck your feet in front of their hind legs, so they can’t get any traction. You reach under them and lock your hands around their neck, and then you lean back and pick the front half of their body up off the ground.” Rio mimed the motion in the air. “The really big ones, there’s a spot at the back of the upper jaw with no teeth that you can lift up easier than the whole front of them.”
Chloe was starstruck, almost literally. She couldn’t even speak for a second. When she finally did, she actually seemed kind of shy. “Want to see my toads?”
“He’s eating lunch, sweetheart,” Ren reminded her as he set a plate and a mug down in front of Rio. “No playing with amphibians until you’re back outside.”
“Will you come look later?” she persisted.
“Sure,” Rio said, and he might as well have promised to string the moon on a necklace for her, because Chloe sighed and actually perched her face on her hand with a smile.
Then Emile and Angelo got home, and the mood was broken.
Chapter Fourteen
Devon heard Em’s old Subaru wagon pull up to the house and then cut out, and a moment later the car door slammed shut. Angry feet stomped up the steps, the front door banged open, and the footsteps continued down the hall. Angelo appeared in the kitchen door, his face set in a scowl, but his forward momentum halted abruptly when he saw the group of people sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes lingered on Rio—it was understandable, everyone’s eyes did—before they moved on to Devon. The scowl dropped away.
“Dev!”
“Angelo.”
“When did you—” It was clear he wanted to say more, virtually bursting at the seams with eagerness to talk to Devon, but he clearly didn’t want to do it with an audience.
“You missed breakfast and lunch,” Chloe chided him.
The scowl came back immediately. “Shut up, squirt, I can find my own food.”
“Don’t call me squirt!” Chloe screeched, her volume going through the roof. “Jerk!”
“Stop.” Ren’s voice didn’t leave room for argument. He looked at Angelo. “If you’ve already eaten, then you can go to your room.”
“Know what? You’re not my father,” Angelo informed him viciously. “I don’t have to listen to you.” His allure was all over the place, pulsing anger and frustration. He wasn’t even trying to control it. Jamie looked close to crying, and the feedback from Chloe wasn’t helping things.
“Go upstairs, Angelo.” This was a new voice, softer and soothing, and yet there was no way for any cambion to gainsay it. Angelo’s jaw tightened with anger, but he turned around and stomped up the staircase as ordered. The door slammed nearly hard enough to crack the frame.
“Daddy!” Both Chloe and Jamie immediately ran to the man in the doorway, Devon’s other foster father. He was a little shorter than Ren, with a kind but unremarkable face and the sort of flaxen blond hair that was rare adults. For Devon he meant comfort, while Ren meant safety. Devon glanced over at Rio and was shocked by what he saw.
Rio had gone utterly pale. His skin was normally Mediterranean dark, but the blood had leeched out of it, leaving him grey. His eyes were wide and his mouth was open in astonishment, and if Devon hadn’t known that there was practically nothing that this guy was afraid of, he would have called the expression fear. Not just fear; there was an odd blend of awe mixed in with it that Devon didn’t understand. Rio looked like he was about to fall to his knees and beg for mercy, and Devon had no idea why.
Emile finally looking up from his children, and noticing Rio only exacerbated the strangeness of the whole thing, because his eyes went similarly wide, and he immediately said, “This is a refuge of the homeless and the wanderer, and thou art welcome here. Be at peace.”
Rio relaxed back into his chair but his hand twitched up toward his chest, as though he’d have liked to cross himself, maybe. Devon had no idea what was going on, but it seemed to mean something to the two of them. Ren just watched, quiet and wary, but not interfering.
Eventually Emile redirected his attention back to the kids. “Chloe, could you please take Jamie for a while to go and play outside?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Thank you.” He kissed each of their cheeks, and the kids scooted out past him. He glanced at his husband. “Well, that could have gone better.”
“You brought him back,” Ren pointed out, “I’d call that a success. Did he have time to do it?”
“No. Angelo’s virginity is still very reluctantly intact.” Em chuckled, then walked over to Devon. He cupped Devon was face in his hands and frowned. “You don’t feel right, sweetheart.”
“I know.” Damn it, were those tears welling up in his voice? He couldn’t feel any
of the indicators, like the tightening of his throat or a pricking in his eyes. Devon desperately hoped he wasn’t crying. “I can’t feel anything.”
“Physically, or…”
“Just physically,” Rio said. His voice was normal enough, but he wouldn’t lift his eyes to meet Emile’s.
Emile sighed. “You made a deal with a witch or a demon.”
“A witch,” Ren informed him dryly. “He’s riding out the last two days of his three day deal with us.”
“Why didn’t you call and tell me when they arrived?”
“You had enough to worry about,” Ren said. “You need to eat.”
“So do you.”
“I will.” Ren stepped forward and put a hand on Em’s shoulder. “Sit down before you fall down.”
“Right.” Emile sat next to Devon, but on the side that was across the table from Rio, giving Rio plenty of room. “And who is this?”
They went through introductions again, and the kitchen was fairly quiet while everyone finished lunch. Devon could hear Chloe and Jamie out in the front yard, and Angelo’s music was playing loud enough to seep down through the floor. Devon had all sorts of questions, most of them revolving around whatever had just happened between Rio and Emile and the rest of them about Angelo, but he didn’t want to break up the calm. He ate his lunch more slowly than anyone, savoring every flavor. He wiped his mouth carefully, not able to tell if he had crumbs on his cheeks or cheese dangling from his chin but not willing to take the chance of looking more helpless than he already felt.