Loren snickered. "It's for decorating cakes and I can pick it up on my next run to the store."
"Oh. Well I can do slicing and dicing but baking is new to me. See you later?" Cullan got up and cuddled the cat in his arms as he left.
"Absolutely, cat man," Loren said and patted the empty seat next to him. "Help me finish off these sandwiches."
At the sight and scent of food, Reed's stomach rumbled. Yeah, he could use the calories to replace the ones he'd blown off yesterday. Who said sex wasn't great exercise?
"Are you two mated?" he inquired before he could stop himself, eying where Cullan had walked off to.
"No," Loren said, sputtering a laugh. He frowned, his gaze distant for a moment. "No, we're just friends."
"I would think it's hard for an alpha and omega to be friends," he murmured, and selected a sandwich from the platter.
"It is." Loren took a big swig of his iced tea. "But I'm happy to have him in my life. That's all that matters. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here."
Reed nodded as he chewed, not really wanting to go into heavy territory. "Have you known Crixen long?"
"No, not really. Until recently, he come to Sanctuary every now and then, but other than that, I don't know him. Cullan speaks very highly of him though," Loren said and slid the ice cubes into his mouth. He crunched them, his gaze off in the fields. "Goddess, I love these summer days."
"Yeah. I'm not used to the heat. For me, summer was always on the cooler side," he muttered, watching as omegas worked in the fields.
"Can I ask, where that was?"
Reed mulled over the omega's question for a long moment. He settled for simplicity. "North."
He hoped one day to be able to talk about his former life, to share in his joys and sorrows of who he used to be and lost. Maybe he'd become friends with Loren. For now, he needed to take things slow. Long minutes passed in silence, Reed finding that he was enjoying the company.
Chapter 18
Crixen lost hours making phone calls to all his teams, rotating his warriors and generally keeping the system in check. He spent the rest of the afternoon placing orders for supplies. The organization went through more clothing and boots than they did ammunition. Blades had always been preferred over firearms, however. Guns had their place, certainly, but there was nothing like the up close and personal nature of a blade. Besides, the kind of things they hunted demanded privacy and firearms tended to be messy and make noise.
As he hung up with the supply company that shipped them endless amounts of water-proof gear, he sighed. Most of the important shit was out of the way, which meant he could rejoin Reed at Sanctuary. As he left his office, his insides tumbled in excitement. It had been a few days and already he missed his omega. He needed to see him safe and happy, feel him against his body. He made a mental note to get Reed a cell phone so that they could keep in contact. For now, he needed to get back to his omega before he went crazy.
He had a few more things to take care of, however.
He mosied down the long hallways of the Magistrate's Keep. As he passed by one of the dojos, the sound of alphas getting their asses kicked by an omega made him stop. He leaned against the jamb and surveyed their newest recruits. They were all the young alpha sons of Ro'an members. Everyone had that glimmer of excitement in their eyes. He'd been the same way back in his youth, but his excitement had been borne out of revenge.
The training master ordered two to spar and watched closely as they moved. He chastised one for poor balance and the other for mismanagement of energy. They thanked the master for correcting them and saluted him with respect. Crixen chuckled. It appeared Wren had broken them already. Every time the recruits were introduced to Wren as their training master, they underestimated him because he was an omega. Wren quickly and painfully corrected their assumptions. Wren had been master trainer for several years now and had sent many skilled warriors Crixen's way.
Wren noticed him and shouted, "Hail your High Guard."
The recruits lined up and saluted him in unison. He nodded to Wren and came to inspect the young alphas. Most were in their teens and twenties and hadn't filled out yet, but Wren would put a good bit of muscle on them. The omega was strict in his training which only came from dedication and experience.
Crixen took the jaw of one and looked at him side to side. Mismatched eyes of blue and green looked in his direction, but not at him.
"Who are your parents, recruit?" Crixen inquired.
"Jorin and Ben, High Guard."
"I know them. Good warriors. Who do you take after?"
The recruit offered him a quizzical look. "If you mean which form I inherited, wolf, High Guard."
Crixen nodded slowly and released him. The union of two different shifter species rarely produced hybrids. No doubt Vandal would find this recruit an interesting study. He came to stand in front of the young alphas. "Here is a lesson for you all, one that you may have already learned thanks to the master. Poor estimation of your foe will get you killed and quickly. Think of your enemy as the deadliest thing to walk this world. Your enemy is a God, a being of supreme power. You walk into a fight with that mind set and you won't die to your own foolishness."
"Yes, High Guard," they chimed in unison.
As he passed Wren, the omega whispered, "Take away all my fun, why don't you?"
Crixen simply grinned and left the master to destroy the recruits' delusions of self-importance. He headed for the common area where Mags and his brother tended to hang out. He was glad to find the two lounging around a television, smoking cigars. He wrinkled his nose at the cloying odor.
Blowing out a ring of smoke, Vandal grinned at him. "Arturo Fuente Opus X. 30 grand a box."
"Do they taste as bad as they smell?" Crixen sneered.
"Worse." Mags said and blew out the smoke in the shape of a puffy white dragon. It flew through the ring and dissipated into the air. He ran a hand along his mohawk of braids, looking proud of himself.
"That's cheating," Vandal said, looking amused.
"You use what you got," Mags retorted and took another drag.
Crixen shook his head. It was a miracle they'd manage to run the damn organization for centuries with a loon at its helm. But Mags was good peeps, as Vandal would say. Though he liked to show off and shroud himself in mystery, the leader of their race was like any other alpha.
"Oh, right." Mags set the cigar on the edge of a table and retrieved a scabbard. He tossed it to Crixen. "Freshly forged and carefully enchanted. Just as you requested. You downsizing, my friend?"
"It's not for me," he said and slid the dirk out of its sheath. The silver blade caught his reflection, the etched runes holding magic even his brother didn't know how to use. The dirk was of simple make, but no less spectacular. The Magistrate was a top-notch craftsman.
"Who?" Mags and Vandal asked in unison.
Crixen sheathed the blade and tipped his head in respect. "Thank you, Magistrate."
"Oh, now you have to tell us!" Mags exclaimed, coming around the table to regard him. "You only go proper when you're serious."
He frowned. "I'm always serious."
"I mean serious, serious," Mags countered.
Vandal laughed as he puffed on his expensive cigar.
"Is there a different kind of serious I'm not aware of?" Crixen inquired cluelessly.
"Yes," Mags said and looked to the ceiling in thought. "When I said I'd fry you alive if you ever lost those meat carvers I made for you--at great personal exhaustion--I was serious. But I wasn't serious, serious."
All he could do was offer the alpha a confused look as his brother giggled like an idiot. He should know better asking Mags to explain anything. It was hard to believe the guy was thousands of years old sometimes. Or maybe that was why he was a bit insane. Too much time on his hands.
"Anyway," Mags said and retrieved his cigar from the edge of the table. "About your other request."
"Wait, we never got to find out who this shiny n
ew weapon is for," Vandal cut in, looking to Crixen with curiosity. The sparkle in his eyes let Crixen know he had a pretty good idea.
"The world may never know." Mags took a drag and slowly blew it out, the smoke forming a heart. Another wisp formed into an arrow and pierced the heart. "How many puffs does it take to smother this room? In any case, I approve your request. And before you go all proper, don't."
"I'd like to do it tomorrow," Crixen said.
Mags waved him away and Crixen left the two to smoke their fancy cigars before he choked to death. As he headed for the long tunnel that would take him into the city, he handled the dirk. It was of perfect balance and remarkably light. Mags had even added some fancy scrollwork to the pommel for extra flare. All in all, it was a great beginner's piece. He couldn't wait to gift it to Reed and train him in the art of blade work.
He stuffed the scabbard in a military issue duffle bag he'd grabbed from his room. Sealing his quarters, he turned his attention toward Reed. He was desperate to have his omega in his arms. He entered a passkey into a keypad and a set of doors slid open. Before him, the tunnel seemed to go on forever as it cut through the bottom of Lake Michigan. It would have been quicker for his brother to open a portal to Sanctuary, but he needed to do one last thing before he returned to Reed.
Twenty minutes later, he arrived at another set of doors and entered the required code, coming up under the Stone building. Little did humans know, but the Magistrate owned the city, having built multiple tunnels below the busy streets of Chicago. Crixen took the private elevator up to the floor that served as a laboratory.
The two warriors guarding the door to the laboratory perked up and saluted him. He nodded to them as he passed through the doors. The lab was a relatively new endeavor, set up by a mated pair of warriors turned scientists. Backed by the Magistrate, they had everything they needed to research an antidote for bane, a deadly poison capable of killing a shifter. Crixen had seen too many of his warriors--strong and skilled shifters--fall to bane. He wanted an antidote as much as anyone.
He spotted Marx sitting at a workstation, hunched over a microscope, his white doctors coat stretching across his broad shoulders. Crixen remembered training the alpha so many years ago when he'd been master trainer. He'd been his star pupil, strong and focused and lacking in that typical young alpha arrogance. When Marx's mate had been shot up with a concentrated dose of bane, Marx had retired to research an antidote. Crixen had fought beside the pair many times and it was always a sight to watch them work together as they slayed their enemies.
Marx swiveled around in his chair. His expression brightened, his pale blue eyes crinkling in the corners. As a polar bear, he sported that typical white hair. "Crix, hey. It's nice to know you're still alive."
"Please. I didn't make High Guard because I'm pretty," he teased, feeling good.
The alpha grinned and came to greet him. "I heard the new recruits are doing well. I do miss watching Wren take them down a peg."
"It is entertaining," he said and nodded at the microscope. "How is it going?"
"It's going." Which was as about a clear an answer as Mags normally gave. Bane was a real problem as of late and the only saving grace was that it took time and many resources to concentrate the poison.
"Crix... You know I'm all about developing an antidote, but I have to formally voice my protest about testing it on others."
"You've been testing it on your mate for years," he countered.
"That's different," he growled. "Aric was already poisoned when I started tests on him. You're asking me to purposely inject bane into someone."
"The Magistrate isn't asking you to do anything," he countered. Was it cruel? Yes. But necessary. "Those two wildbloods caused a lot of trouble. They're young and the Magistrate has taken pity on them. This way they can make use of themselves and if they survive, they may have a future outside the lab."
Marx blew out a big breath and looked as if he wanted to argue further. "They're doing fine, in case you're wondering. They've behaved and I've been teaching them to speak."
"And the antidote?"
"You have no idea how this works, do you?" Marx said. "It's going to take time. Right now I'm building an immune system profile for each of them. I'm ruling out flaws and outside influences--"
Crixen cut him off. "Save the quack speak. Just keep me updated. How is Aric doing?"
"He had a few bad days last week but is on the mend. He's visiting with Braun's mate right now. Do you want to see him?"
"I have something to take care of at Sanctuary," he said. "Some other time."
The alpha nodded. "Drop by whenever you want. It would do Aric good to see a familiar face."
He bid him farewell and left before his emotions betrayed him. Aric had been his warrior, his responsibility. With the jab of a needle, everything that he was had been taken away.
He needed Reed, needed to know he was safe and happy.
Chapter 19
The morning sun warmed Reed's body as it rose over the trees. He was naked, the grasses absorbing his weight perfectly. Opening his crusty eyes, he realized he was alone, but Crixen was not far.
His warrior was in the field, naked, his muscular body standing stark against the green and yellow of the clearing. With his scimitars in hand, he moved slowly as if he were sparring with the wind. It was a blade dance and it was beautiful. Reed watched awestruck as Crixen moved fluidly, his body and the swords one. Every sweep, every gentle slash was like a ballet.
Reed's breath caught as his alpha's body glimmered from the heat of summer and his corded muscles bulged. He must have made a sound, because Crixen glanced at him. He straightened his form and twirled a blade before returning it to its sheath. Reed wanted to beg he continue, but as Crixen stalked toward him with purpose, he lost his words.
Crixen pulled him into his embrace and kissed him deep. It was a gesture of ownership and Reed found that he didn't mind being owned by the amazing and gentle alpha one bit. He'd waited for days for his warrior to return to him and when Crixen had strolled into Sanctuary last night with a singular purpose, Reed knew what they had was more than physical pleasure.
"I have a gift for you," Crixen said.
"Is it better than that blowjob you gave me last night?" he said heatedly. He still loved teasing and taunting Crixen, but now his jabs came from a place of affection.
The alpha simply smirked and reached into the big duffle bag he'd brought with him. He withdrew a leather belt complete with a scabbard and what looked to be a dagger of some sorts. "I had this made for you. It's of the finest quality and enchanted."
Reed gaped as he accepted the dagger. He looked to Crixen who nodded. Carefully, he slid the blade out of its sheath. The silver metal caught the sunlight, highlighting the runes etched in it. The handle was braided with fresh leather and the pommel had been stamped with the outline of a howling wolf. It was truly a work of art.
"It's called a dirk. Longer than a dagger, but easier to handle than a sword. It's the perfect beginner's weapon," Crixen said and stood up. "Come."
Reed obeyed and they took their place where Crixen had danced. His alpha came to stand behind him, his hands going all over Reed's body.
"The most important thing you need is balance. In the same way we balance our animal and human natures, the warrior requires the perfect weighing of his body and spirit. The easiest to achieve is balance of the body which is what you will work on. Don't slouch, stand tall."
"Is that why you were dancing?" Reed inquired, curious about the whole thing.
"Yes. Think of this blade not as a separate entity, but an extension of yourself. Like claws or fangs. It is a part of you." Crixen placed the dirk in Reed's hand, his touch gentle. "Don't strangle it, let it conform to your grip. The more you wield it, the more it will attune to your shape."
Reed stared at the dirk, his fist wrapped around the braided handle. Crixen guided his arm as he moved it in the air. He was mesmerized by the way the dirk seeme
d to glow, as if it were absorbing the sunlight.
"Good," he praised softly. "The dance helps one bond with their blade and in turn, strengthens confidence."
Following his alpha's guidance, he danced like Crixen had, though his movements weren't as coordinated.
"Don't forget to breathe," Crixen murmured, his lips close to Reed's ear. "With every breath you take into you the energy of life."
Reed lost time as they danced together, his alpha leading the way. Peace enveloped him, calm overtaking the shadows of his captivity. The sun peeked over the trees, bathing them in golden warmth. He felt one with Crixen and a part of the Earth in the purest of ways. He was shifter. He glanced to the side and caught Crixen's gaze, his steely eyes seeming lighter and full of joy. Crixen took his lips in a gentle, cherishing peck.
He stepped away. "I'll show you how to take care of the blade. You'll want to keep it sharp and well oiled. It must always be ready."
"Thank you," he said, meaning it. He slid the dirk into the sheath and ran his fingertip along the engraved wolf. How could he describe how much this meant to him?
Crixen sat down where they'd made their grassy bed and rummaged in his duffle bag. He pulled out some fruit and bit into an apple. Reed joined him and accepted a banana. They ate in silence, enjoying the warm summer day. It was nice not having to do anything except be with each other. No duties, no obligations, just them.
"How are the cows?" Crixen inquired.
"Ready to burst," Reed said and tossed the peel in a plastic bag that served as their trash. "Javi said he'd send me a text when they went into labor. Thanks for the cell phone, by the way."
"I'm glad you're keeping busy."
"You keep me plenty busy," Reed countered slyly.
Crixen simply chuckled.
Reed finished his banana, the dense sweetness filling his belly. A shadow penetrated the peace and he looked to his alpha who was in the process of cleaning the apple core with his fangs. "Can I ask you a question?"
To Take and Hold(Omegaverse Shifter Romance) (shifter fever Book 2) Page 8