by I. T. Lucas
By her guilty smile, he’d guessed right, and the stubborn woman had been planning to do just that. He pointed a warning finger at her, then turned to Syssi. “Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”
As Syssi nodded, her lip quivered a little. At first, he thought she was stifling a laugh, but then he saw a tear sliding down her cheek.
“What’s wrong?” He bent his knees so he could look into her eyes.
“I don’t want you guys to go. It was so much fun to have you as flat-mates. The breakfasts. The dinners. It’s going to be lonely with just Kian and me.”
A snort sounded from Kian’s direction. “A tiny hint, and you’ll have the entire Guardian force descending on us for every meal.”
Syssi laughed through her tears. “I know.”
Andrew pulled her into a quick hug. “We live twenty minutes away, not on the other side of the globe. We will see plenty of each other.”
With a soft sniffle, Syssi wiped at her eyes. “For some reason, I’m getting overly emotional.”
“Oh, oh…” Nathalie cast Syssi an appraising look. “Maybe you’re pregnant? As soon as I got pregnant, and I’m talking like right the next day, I started crying at the drop of a hat.”
Andrew let go of Syssi and gave her a look-over of his own, not that he had a clue what he was looking for.
“I wish,” Syssi said in a sad tone. “But no, I’m not pregnant. Is it so hard to believe that I don’t want to see you guys go?”
Nathalie wrapped her arm around his sister’s shoulders and walked her over to the sofa. “Come, let’s talk wedding plans. It will cheer you up.”
It did, and a moment later the two were discussing the color of the dress; whether it should be pure white, off white, or cream-colored.
Andrew couldn’t care less, but he was happy to see Syssi smiling again as he left.
Bridget’s office door was open, and he rapped his fingers on the jamb before walking in. “Good evening, Doctor. You wanted to see me?”
She lifted her head from her tablet and smiled at him. “Take a seat, Andrew. There are a few things I need to discuss with you.”
Full on doctor mode. Good.
Every time Andrew was alone with Bridget, he had an anxious moment, not sure which Bridget he was about to encounter, the doctor or the ex-lover. The thought of her bringing up their brief past together was disturbing.
Andrew planted his butt in the metal chair Bridget tortured her patients with, wondering if she did it on purpose to get them to leave as quickly as possible. “What’s up, Doc?”
“I’m not one to beat around the bush, so I’ll get straight to it. Nathalie’s pregnancy is complicating things. She can’t transition while she is carrying a child.”
Did she think him an idiot? “I know that.”
“I know you do, but did you realize the impact it will have on your marriage?”
Andrew frowned. “What do you mean?”
Bridget looked like she was gathering patience to explain the facts of life to a simpleton. “In a few months, your venom glands will become active, and your fangs will reach their full length. The urge to bite your mate will be overpowering. But you can’t. A bite may facilitate Nathalie’s transition. Do you see the problem now?”
“I’m not an animal. If I can stop myself during sex, for any reason and at any time, I don’t see why I can’t do the same with biting. I’m sure it’s not going to be easy, but there is no other way. Under no circumstances would I allow anything or anyone, myself included, to do anything that will endanger my girls.”
Bridget’s smile was sad. “You’re a good man, Andrew, and I know you believe that you’ll be able to abstain, but I’m telling you that you won’t. You’re not human anymore. I’m sure it didn’t escape your notice that although in some ways your new physiology is far more advanced than your old one; in others, it’s more primitive. The instinctive urges will be undeniable. Not only the sexual ones either. You’re more aggressive now and easier to provoke. You need to plan ahead and decide what to do when you feel like killing the next driver that cuts you off. It might be counting from one to ten, or taking several deep breaths, or whatever else works for you. You need to be careful and watch out for triggers.”
Damn. He’d thought it was temporary and that the insane urges would calm down in a few days. But according to Bridget, he was stuck like that. He’d turned into a predatory animal, and the only thing he could do was to learn to control it.
Andrew rubbed his brows between his thumb and forefinger. “What am I going to do when the time comes? And how long do I have?”
“If you’re lucky, it will take your glands six months to become active, so you’ll only have to contend with Nathalie’s final trimester. But it can happen sooner. As to what to do, I don’t have good news for you. You either use a substitute or ask Kian to put you in stasis until after the baby is born. I don’t see any other options.”
Fuck it all to hell.
“Even hypothetically, the suggestion of having sex with a substitute is offensive to me.”
Bridget raised her palms. “I know, I know. But it’s my obligation to put it out there. It’s up to you to decide what you do with it.”
“I’d rather be put away like the rabid dog I am now.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I had better news for you.”
Bridget made it sound like it was the end of the world. It wasn’t. After all, something wonderful had happened, Nathalie was pregnant with their child. And after suffering through some pain and misery—hers delivering the baby, and his rotting away in stasis—things would get to be wonderful again.
He and Nathalie would become parents.
“We still have time, and maybe some other solution will present itself. What worries me much more than my ability or inability to refrain from biting is that Nathalie must remain human until after the delivery, and in the meantime, she is as fragile and vulnerable as any other mortal.”
Bridget smoothed a finger over the tablet’s glossy surface. “Nathalie is a healthy young woman. The chances of something going wrong are really minimal. You shouldn’t lose any sleep over it.”
Easy for Bridget to say, she wasn’t in love with a mortal, her entire life didn’t depend on that one, perfect mortal’s survival.
“Logically, I hear what you’re saying, but it doesn’t make it any easier for me, or give me the peace of mind to sleep well at night. I have a feeling that the only time I will relax between now and the delivery will be when Kian puts me in stasis.”
Chapter 20: Anandur
Twenty-eight hours had passed since Lana’s call, and Anandur’s phone hadn’t left his palm the entire time. He’d even slept with it tucked under his pillow.
Damn, he hoped the girls were okay. The surly Russians had grown on him during his short affair with Lana, and he prayed to the merciful fates that Alex hadn’t discovered their plot. A guy who sold women into slavery for money would have no problem killing the entire crew if he’d gotten a whiff of their mutiny.
As he walked down the hallway to Kian’s office, Anandur wondered what could have possessed Alex to sink so deep into the darkness. He was a relatively young immortal, just a little older than Amanda, which meant that he’d grown up when the clan had already accumulated enough resources to ensure a good life for all of its members.
It hadn’t always been like that, and during most of their history, everyone had to work to support their family. But other than the few who for some reason had gone crazy, like the infamous Vlad, Anandur couldn’t remember any of them doing something so vile. There had been quite a few instances of clan members abusing their powers for personal gain, and some internal scuffles when tempers flared and men fought over this or that, but that was about it.
Since the beginning, Annani’s teaching had drilled the sanctity of life, human and immortal, into their heads. The other thing she was unrelenting about was the importance of consent.
Alex was violating both in
the most despicable way.
“Come in,” Kian called when Anandur rapped his knuckles on the glass door. Ever since Syssi had come into his life, the guy was obsessing about everyone having to knock before entering.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Anandur said before taking a seat next to Onegus.
Kian cocked a brow. “Did you hear from them again?”
“No.”
“I asked Onegus to join us for this because Andrew has enough on his plate right now. We can either make a plan ourselves or outsource it to Turner.”
Anandur scratched his beard. “I vote for Turner, but I want to be there with the rescue team.”
“The problem with Turner is that he doesn’t work with anyone other than his own people or subcontractors he’s thoroughly vetted. We need to apprehend Alex and bring him to trial. Humans can’t do it.”
Getting his hands on the scumbag was incredibly appealing, but Anandur was more concerned with Lana and the other girls. “My first priority is the crew,” he said.
Onegus nodded. “Of course. They come first. But we don’t want Alex to slip away and start the same disgusting operation somewhere else.”
“Do you have an idea for a plan?” Kian asked.
Usually, Kian was the strategist and Onegus the implementer, but the head Guardian had no doubt learned something from his boss over the many years he’d served under him.
“We need to take the boat at sea. We will cause an international incident if we attack while it’s moored in a Mexican harbor. Given enough time and resources, we could’ve arranged a cooperation with the Mexican authorities, but we have a narrow window of opportunity here, and we can’t afford the delay.”
Kian pushed up to his feet and began pacing, which he claimed helped him think. “All we need from Lana is the boat’s location or that of their next stop. We can launch a drone to follow the yacht, so we know when it’s in the optimal position for a takeover.”
“We will need a fast boat,” Anandur stated the obvious. “And, naturally, we need to get it there.”
“Not a problem. You and another Guardian take one of the larger jets and fly to the nearest port city. I’ll arrange for a boat to wait for you there. You use the boat to board the yacht, take Alex into custody, and put him under if needed. The crew gets the yacht to the nearest harbor. I’ll have a local crew ready to take it back to Marina Del Rey. From there, all of you fly to our airstrip, where someone will take Alex off your hands. You refuel and continue with the girls to Hawaii. Case closed.”
“Not a bad plan. One problem, I don’t know how to drive a yacht or use its navigation systems. The last time I took a boat out, we were still navigating by the stars.”
Kian stopped and glared at Onegus. “Add it to the list of skills your guys need to know. We will have to bring along a civilian. And if we can’t find one who knows what he’s doing, I’ll have to come with you.”
“You know how to drive a boat?”
“And I also know how to fly a plane or a helicopter, drive a tank and any other vehicle. And I know how to operate a submarine.”
Anandur’s caught Onegus smirking down at his boots. So he’d known all along that Mr. Control-freak had learned how to operate all possible vehicles.
“A real life 007, aren’t you? What I want to know is when and how did you manage to learn all of this, without Brundar and me knowing about it? You’re not supposed to go anywhere without us or another pair of bodyguards at your side.”
Some of the arrogance leached out from Kian’s expression. “On a simulator.”
That was an interesting piece of information. “We have a simulator somewhere in here, and I don’t know about it?”
“Not that kind of simulator—just the software without all the bells and whistles of the real thing. William designed it for me.”
Anandur had known Kian for almost a millennium, and it had somehow escaped his notice that the guy was certifiable. “And you think that’s good enough? Are you nuts?”
“You’ve flown with me, did you notice anything lacking in my piloting skills?”
By then, Onegus was laughing so hard that his eyes were tearing up.
Fuck. Anandur slapped his palm on his forehead; he was such an idiot. He’d never given it a second thought. He should’ve wondered when and where Kian had acquired his pilot license. But the guy always exuded such an air of command and confidence that no one ever thought to question him.
“I’m not flying with you ever again. Not until you get a real license.”
Kian shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Chapter 21: Nathalie
“Home, sweet home,” Nathalie said as Andrew switched the lights on in the shop.
She’d thought getting back home would feel good; instead, it was depressing. At night, without the hustle and bustle of customers, her shop, her pride and joy, looked dingy, outdated, and small. Especially in comparison to the elegant opulence of Kian and Syssi’s penthouse as well as the rest of the clan’s keep.
“Where are we?” Fernando asked.
“We are home, Papi.”
“Oh. I thought it looked familiar.”
Did he? Or was it one of his attempts to hide his confusion?
“Let’s go upstairs. I think one of your shows is about to start.” Perhaps his room would remind him that this was where he lived. She took her father’s elbow and led him to the staircase, then glanced back at Andrew. “You’re okay with the shopping bags?”
“Pfft, do you have to ask?” He waved her on. “Get your dad comfortable, and I’ll haul everything upstairs.”
“Thanks.” She cast him a sad smile. The real challenge would be to find a place for all their stuff. She had a feeling most of it would have to stay in the bags because there was no more storage space to be found. For a moment, she considered checking the big commercial freezer in the kitchen. It was never completely full, and maybe she could store some of their things there. Problem was, a health inspector would not find her solution amusing. Not in the least.
Nathalie cringed as she opened the door to her father’s room. His old La-Z-Boy armchair was a poor substitute for the luxurious BarcaLounger Okidu had provided for him at Syssi’s. The fabric had faded from its original blue to a dirty bluish gray, and the armrests had so many stains on them that they’d turned yellow and brown. The thing was disgusting.
Even Papi thought so. He didn’t say a thing, just sighed heavily and trudged over to the chair.
Nathalie picked up the remote from the top of the television and turned it on. After the large flat screen television her father had enjoyed in his room at Kian’s, this big square box with its pitifully small screen must’ve been another letdown.
She flipped the channels until she found the one broadcasting his show—something about truckers in Alaska. She had no idea why he found the subject so fascinating. Maybe it was all that snow.
“Are you comfortable, Papi? Would you like a blanket? A cup of tea?”
“Yes, please.” He didn’t smile at her as he usually did when she offered to do something nice for him.
“What’s wrong, Papi?”
He shrugged. “I liked our vacation. It was nice there.”
“Would you like to go back?”
“I wish we could afford to live in a hotel. But it doesn’t matter. As long as we have each other, we should thank the Lord we have a roof over our head and food on our table.”
Nathalie leaned and kissed his cheek. “I’ll get you the blanket.”
When she stepped out into the corridor, she had to plaster herself against the wall to let Andrew pass with the loads of bags he was carrying.
“That’s the last of it,” he said. “Do you want me to start putting it away?”
She shook her head. “Leave it on the floor. I don’t think anything will fit in the closet.”
“We really need a bigger place.”
She rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. I’m going downstairs to make tea for
my father. Would you like some?”
“Sure. And can I bother you for a sandwich? I’m starving.”
She slapped his shoulder. “It’s no bother, you big goof.”
Ever since his transition, Andrew’s appetite had become ferocious, and not only for food. But she wasn’t complaining, on the contrary. His appetite suited her just fine.
Going through the fridge, she was glad to see that everything was neat and organized. Jackson’s friend, Gordon, was keeping things in the same order she used to, and using her labeled containers. Made life easier when several orders came in at the same time. To stop and read the labels on the packages of cheeses and cold cuts in the fridge would’ve slowed things down.
As she made the sandwich for Andrew, her hands did the job without engaging her brain. Muscle memory, she supposed. Years of doing the same thing would have this effect. She scooped some potato salad onto the plate, then laid the roast beef on rye bread next to it.
Wondering who prepared the salad and if it was as good as hers, she dropped another scoop on a different plate and grabbed a fork. It was good. Leaning against the counter, she ate it all.
“My sandwich ready?” Andrew poked his head into the kitchen.
“Yeah, I’ll bring it out to you.” She finished the last forkful of salad and lifted Andrew’s plate.
“The potato salad is great. I think it’s even better than mine.” She put the plate down in front of Andrew. He’d already poured them both tea, but by the steam rising from the mugs, it was still too hot to drink. Too bad since the salad had made her thirsty.
“Do you want me to bring you an ice cube?” Andrew asked.
Such a sweet man. He knew her so well, was so attuned to her. She smiled at him, hoping it expressed her love and gratitude. “Thank you.”
Andrew was up and back with the ice in seconds. “Here you go.” He dropped two cubes into her tea.
A moment later, it was just the right temperature to drink, and she took several long sips. “I should call Jackson and ask him to come over. I owe him a big, fat check. Besides, he promised to go over the accounting with me. I have no idea where I stand financially.”