by Montana Ash
The first few days after her arrival, Max had been terrifyingly overwhelmed. The emotions bombarding her were so intense and incessant they felt almost physical. It hurt. Boy, did it hurt. The only time she felt any real solace was when Cali had placed her little miracle in her arms for the first time. Max had fallen in love with the adorable little dude instantly. Maxwell’s emotions were sweet in their simplicity; he craved warmth and love, food for his tummy, shelter and sleep. That was pretty much it. Exactly the things I need too, Max realised. You’re so smart, she thought, silently, talking directly to the baby in her arms. Maxwell’s eyes sparked with interest and she swore she felt a tiny breeze brush over her face. Max grinned; magic was seriously cool. Baby Maxwell was an air elemental.
A warm weight against her leg had her looking down to find another little guy, strong with a different kind of element; beast. The adorable dog, Zombie, was her constant companion and Max couldn’t be more grateful. Like the baby, he was also a creature of basic needs and wants, his affections and emotions were easy to read and soothing to feel. He loved her – pure and simple.
Reaching down, she gave his unique-looking fur a good rub and was rewarded with a blast of warmth and appreciation. A doggy groan met her ears and she chuckled. “Sucker,” she accused with affection. But unfortunately, Zombie was unable to hold her attention for long.
Her eyes tracked to the right, some unnamed thing demanding her focus – yet again – and she unconsciously rubbed her chest at the ache that bloomed there. She had no idea why her attention was being drawn in that particular direction but it was doing so with alarming frequency and regularity. Since her arrival on the beach, she had felt drawn to many things; the occupants in the house being the main offenders. Three individuals took up more of her focus than the others. One was obvious even to an amnesiac like her.
Ryker.
Max physically ached every time she looked at him. And it wasn’t due to the pain he radiated like a bonfire. No, it was as if her heart were bleeding. The pain in her chest often woke her up in the dead of night and she would bolt upright, skin covered in a cold sweat, her body throbbing like it was missing a limb, hands automatically reaching for something that wasn’t there. She had no doubt that something was a six-foot-four, heavily muscled, achingly scarred soldier.
The other two who seemed to resonate with her were Beyden and Jasminka. Again, with Beyden she figured she knew why. The man was in pain – both physically and emotionally. She wanted to help him so badly, her second sight able to see the true depths of the wonderful man buried beneath all that pain. But she simply had no idea how. She was slowly but surely learning what she was capable of, but other than being able to see pretty colours, she was pretty much useless at the moment. And even if she wasn’t, she had a feeling the job was not destined to be hers. No, some gut instinct told her that job was at least partially reserved for a tall, dark beauty.
Forcefully ignoring the pull from the distance, Max thought about her supposed powers and had to admit she found her abilities to see souls and life-threads fascinating. Seeing the connections between people and places, seeing the complexity and beauty of people’s souls – it was humbling. And a huge responsibility, she added silently. What was even more interesting was that nearly every person in the house had a tether to each other. Some were light and shimmery, flexible and adaptable. But others were bolder, more tangible, and completely unbreakable. She figured those were the threads that bound people together. Darius and Diana had a particularly spectacular gold thread, and though Cali and Dex’s link was the colour of ash, it was no less vibrant or beautiful. Lark and Ivy’s thread resonated with strong earth magic and was a vibrant green. Much to her curiosity, a pinkish-orange strand of light connected Beyden to Jasminka. Max knew they hadn’t met before he was injured, so she could only assume that the link had been created since Jasminka arrived. Or it had something to do with their possible future, Max pondered, wondering if the pretty rope of translucent colours would become more solid as their affections grew.
Both were holding themselves back – Beyden more than Jasminka. The knowledge worried Max because she had a feeling such reticence from the quiet man with the amber eyes was not his natural state. He was definitely a closet romantic. Jazz was closer to admitting her feelings and Max figured it would only take a few subtle nudges to get her there. The question was; should she do it?
‘Do it.’
“Who said that?” Max squeaked. Stupidly she looked down at the three-week old baby in her arms, “Maxwell?” she whispered.
The five men flanking the nursery rushed in, making her their sole focus as everyone tried to question her at the same time. Max barely refrained from rolling her eyes; being a legit goddess was a little claustrophobic. She wondered if the feeling was something new or if the old her had felt the same way.
‘Same.’
Max yelped upon hearing the strange voice answer her in her head. It was soft and filled with amusement and affection. It was also monosyllabic – and panting. Wait ... panting? “Holy shit! The freaking dog can talk? That’s a thing? Talking dogs?” she demanded, into the stunned silence of the room. Tilting her head, Max contemplated the notion of talking animals, “It doesn’t seem like a thing,” she concluded, shaking her head and addressing the dog. “Are you a real zombie? That makes more sense than a talking dog.”
“How do zombies make more sense than talking dogs?” Aiden asked, sounding a little incredulous and a lot amused.
Max really liked the Captain in Mordecai’s Order. He was friendly, kind, easy-going and attentive. Aiden held an underlying affection for her that she didn’t quite understand. In fact, the entire Order of Valhalla did. But it wasn’t creepy or sleazy, so Max wasn’t bothered. Probably something to do with the fact that they serve my father, Max thought. Not that the man acted like much of one. “Zombies are supernatural so the laws of physics don’t apply to them the same way they apply to canines,” Max responded to Aiden, primly.
The paladin snorted, “You’ve been reading your graphic novels again, haven’t you?”
Busted, she thought. She had thought reading her own work would perhaps jumpstart some memories, but the attempt had been fruitless. She still recalled nothing of the woman who drew those pictures and plotted out those worlds. Although, she was pleasantly surprised because she actually really enjoyed the colourful novels. She idly wondered if that made her a narcissist.
“Back to the dog; you can really hear him talking?” Madigan asked, looking curious.
Max shifted the baby deeper into the crook of her arm, peering down at Zombie. “It would seem so. And apparently our four-legged friend is a matchmaker.”
‘Beast. Friend. Pack. Mate.’
Though the words that came through were simple and erratic, Max had no problem computing them – nor the sentiment behind them. “Bey is affiliated with your domain – beast – and is your friend. He’s a part of your pack and you want him to have a mate?”
Zombie’s tongue lolled out and he gave her a doggie smile, ‘Beta.’ He informed her, before licking her hand. ‘Alpha.’
That made her laugh, “I’m the Alpha, huh? And Bey is the Beta?”
“Beyden is the Beta?” Tobias asked, following the conversation with amusement. “I would have thought that was Ryker.”
Max was about to respond when Zombie spoke again; ‘Daddy!’
Max felt her mouth open in shock before a genuine laugh bubbled up, “Daddy? Really?”
The thought of the bi-coloured-eyed dog calling Ryker daddy was enough to loosen Mordecai up and Max watched as he threw his head back and laughed. “Daddy? Zombie calls Ryker daddy? Oh, I am going to have so much fun with this. The possibilities are endless.”
Max thought he looked well-pleased with having fuel to torment his son-in-law. And that was exactly how Mordecai thought of Ryker, she knew. Because she was his daughter, and Ryker was her soulmate. Other than the immense pain she felt, Max had been pointedly
ignoring the fact that she and Ryker were clearly lovers in her past life. She could admit she often wondered if full body contact of the naked variety might trigger her memory. One day soon, she figured she might pluck up the courage to find out.
Apparently realising he was acting like a real person, Mordecai abruptly stopped laughing, looking awkward as all fuck once again. Max rolled her eyes. “Is this where you shove that stick back up your arse?”
Mordecai’s mouth dropped open, “Excuse me?”
Max finally had Mordecai talking but she knew their time was limited now. Cali and Dex could only stand to be away from their son for so long before the need to be close to him became too much to bear. Max didn’t blame them one bit. She didn’t want Mordecai to go back to passively ignoring her, so she decided to be blunt; “You’re my father, right?”
“Uh ...” was all the Scotsman managed.
Max powered on; “If you’re my father, why don’t I call you dad?” He was startled – more than startled, Max thought, as she watched Mordecai choke on his own spit, head shaking vigorously.
“Because I’m not your dad. I mean, I am ... but I’m not. Bugger! I’m botching this up,” Mordecai said, running a palm over his face.
Aiden snorted, slapping his liege on the back, “Yeah, you are.”
Mordecai inflicted a furious scowl upon his commander. The men stared at each other for a full minute, their facial expressions changing but no words emerging from their mouths. A low level buzz sounded in Max’s head and she shook it, trying to dislodge the annoyance. It wasn’t the first time she had felt such a thing, but it was the first time she had understood why. “You’re talking telepathically, aren’t you? Through your Order link?”
Mordecai and his four knights all looked at her with identical expressions of surprise and nodded their heads. “Can I do that?” she asked. After all, she seemed to have no problem talking to a dog. Surely humans would be easier.
Mordecai looked uncomfortable, “You could. And I’m sure you still can. But your link to your Order is ...”
“Broken,” Max finished.
Mordecai looked sad as he nodded. “Yes. It broke when you passed from this world and into Otherworld. I have no doubt it can be mended though. All of your powers are intact. It’s simply a matter of time.”
“Wait, Otherworld? That’s where you think I was?” Max asked, intrigued and excited to finally be getting some answers after so much time feeling ignorant.
“Of course it’s where you were. I have no doubt your mother had a hand in this mess. Otherworld is where she resides,” the warden informed her.
Max pressed, “So I wasn’t dead?”
“Dead? Not hardly. What is it with your Order predicting and wallowing in your death? Such a morbid crew. I know death, Max. It’s kind of my specialty. I believe you simply shed your mortal body and became fully custodian. You then passed into Otherworld and some way you – or your mother – managed to figure out a way to send you back here intact.”
“Not fully intact,” Max poked herself ruefully in the head.
Mordecai smiled kindly, “I don’t think that could be helped. It happened last time too, when you were much younger and first placed on this plane. You had no recollection of the life you’d lived or who you were then either. I assume it has something to do with the crossing. But maybe I’m giving your mother too much credit. She could simply be disrupting your life for her own amusement.”
Max studied the handsome man in front of her for a moment, noting the way his aura flared in particular places. “You don’t really mean that.”
The four paladins behind Mordecai gave her a series of thumbs up, head shakes, and waggling eyebrows and Max knew she had read him right. She barely repressed a giggle when Mordecai spoke without turning;
“I don’t need to see you to hurt you.”
His Order didn’t appear concerned and Max knew it was an empty threat. The bond between them all was startling in its strength. Looking down, Max stroked a finger over the curve of the baby’s soft cheek, giving comfort and taking some in return. There was a part of her that knew her own bond with her own Order was just as deep and true, yet she couldn’t access it. Whenever she tried to touch it, it just moved further away. It was frustrating and something she didn’t understand. It was also something she couldn’t fix right that second. But she knew something she could.
“So. You said you’re not really my dad. Do you want to be?”
Mordecai looked startled, green eyes opening wide before they softened with an unnamed emotion. “You asked me the exact same question once before.”
“I did?” Mordecai nodded, so she pressed on, “And what did you say?”
The smile was slow in coming but filled with warmth – and dare she say – love. “I said yes.”
Zombie pressed close to her legs once again as she felt a suspicious tingle in her eyes. Not wanting to puss-out in front of her father, she said; “Good. Because I don’t remember you not being there or what it felt like to suddenly learn I had a parent after so many years of being an orphan. I may never remember.” Max held up a hand, forestalling her father’s swift denial and reassurances. “And I’m okay with that. Really. I know to everyone here I’m part of a person – incomplete – and not the woman you all knew. That person is either locked away somewhere in here,” she tapped her head, “or lost forever. If it’s the first scenario, then I may just have a chance at getting her back. But if it’s the latter ... well, the person that I am today needs to find her place in the world. And I think that would be easier with my father by my side instead of following me around like a silent, creepy, Scottish monolith.”
Aiden, Tobias, Madigan, and Bastien all laughed while Mordecai rubbed at the back of his head, looking sheepish. “What do you suggest?”
Max smiled, “How about you be my dad and the four stooges behind you can be my weird uncles?”
Mordecai grinned at her, flashing the same lone dimple she saw in the mirror every morning, “I say ... yes.”
SIX
Beyden sweated his way through yet another workout. He was well familiar with the routine of strength and endurance training. His heavily muscled, six-foot-four frame was a testament to that. But the physical therapy the human doctor had prescribed was something from the nine circles of hell. He dared even Satan himself to smile his way through it.
“Sadist,” he muttered, attempting to catch his breath.
“I’m sorry. What was that?”
Jasminka’s oval face appeared above him, her blank expression giving nothing away. That was, until he looked into her eyes and noticed the suppressed mirth there. “Are you laughing at me? Do you think this is funny?” He asked, incredulously.
Jasminka actually giggled, the girlish sound a delight to his ears even as the transformation to her face was a delight to his eyes. The dark-skinned woman really was a beauty. He knew she was older by human standards – mid-forties if he remembered correctly – but to him the extra years lining her face added character. Although he didn’t consider himself to be a cougar hawk, he had always appreciated mature-minded women and she was certainly that.
“I’m sorry. No, I don’t think your situation is funny. I just think you’re cute,” Jasminka responded.
His appreciation of her attributes took an abrupt nosedive. “Cute? I am not cute,” he said, firmly.
“No?” she asked. “What are you then?”
“Other than extremely, extremely manly? I am tired and sweaty and in pain. And if I thought my leg was a ruined mess before, I thought wrong. Your brutal, sadistic regime has left me a broken shell of a man from whence I shall never return.”
Jasminka rolled her eyes but she was still smiling. She offered him a hand up, saying, “I’m not Hitler.”
“Whatever you say, Adolf,” he muttered, eyeing the slender hand warily. There was no way she would be able to help him to his feet.
Jasminka’s smile was sweet, “There he is. The funny guy
. I was beginning to think everyone was lying about you. But you’re here.”
Bey grunted, maybe he was still there. After the talk about Max two mornings ago, he had made a concerted effort not to be a sad-sack. It was surprisingly difficult, but he was clinging stubbornly to what little positivity remained in his mind and body. If his current state was anything to go by, he calculated that there wasn’t much. Shaking himself off, he ignored her offered hand. “Thanks, but I don’t think your important doctor hands will be enough to help my dead-weight up.”
“Please. Do you know how often I have to lift, shift, and roll dead weight from one bed to another? Or from a chair? Or from the ground? I’m a surgeon, Beyden. These hands may be my pampered tools of the trade, but they’re not weak. Now give me your hand,” she added, firmly.
Bey sighed, placing his hand in hers. Her palm was warm and just as soft as he imagined it would be. What came as a surprise though, was the spark that zapped its way from where their hands connected all the way to his dick. Seriously, no movement in that region for weeks and then twice in almost as many days thanks to a human? Lost in his thoughts – and his pants – he gave an unmanly yelp when he was hauled to his feet. He teetered for a moment, afraid of losing his balance because he didn’t have his cane to rely on. But strong arms kept him grounded by wrapping around his waist, and a bracing body pressed against the length of his. Jasminka was right, he acknowledged. Her slender frame held more strength than he gave her credit for.
It also sparked more feelings than he was willing to explore and he cleared his throat awkwardly; “Ah, thanks.”
Jasminka looked up at him, a knowing glint in her eye, but she thankfully didn’t question him further. Letting go and stepping back slowly, she slipped on her professional mask flawlessly; “You good? Take it easy, remember. Re-distribute your weight slowly. It’s going to hurt – the nerves have been activated from the exercise. Breathe through it. Try to work with the pain, not against it. Not all pain is bad.”