by SF Benson
I shake my head.
“Have I ever done anything to jeopardize you?”
“No.” Cherina has been the only supernatural in this town who has had my back regardless of what I do or say.
“The only thing I’m guilty of is trying to discourage you and that human from pursuing whatever this is between you,” she admits.
“Have you said something to Antoinette?” My pulse increases.
Cherina quickly turns away. She goes to a cabinet and removes two black mugs. “I went to see her before she left the hospital. Antoinette needed to know a relationship with you isn’t possible.”
Raking a hand through my hair, I ponder why it’s any of Cherina’s concern. “Why can’t you just leave it alone?”
She sets a mug before me. The smell of fresh roasted beans distracts me for a moment. I don’t bother adding the cream and sugar Cherina places on the table.
“Because I care about you.” She sweeps her hand over my borrowed body. “This is supposed to be a temporary situation.”
“I asked you for time,” I growl.
“I’m giving it to you, but eventually, you’ll need to give up this body. Then what?” She pauses for a beat or two. “You’ll return to that disagreeable soul everyone hates. Only this time your ire will be fueled by your inability to be with Antoinette. Nobody wants that.”
Neither did I. So I swallow the comment dangling on the tip of my tongue. The words might condemn me and send me into the ether much sooner than I planned. I take a sip of the dark brew, attempting to find a shade of calm.
“Next time you have doubt, Uraeleus, ask me. You didn’t need to involve Elsbeth.”
Cherina has a relationship akin to a parent-child arrangement with Elsbeth. There’s a good two hundred years between the witches. But that’s neither here nor there.
My gaze swings to Cherina. “You’re wrong. Elsbeth settled the score between Luc and me. I won’t have to worry about him threatening anyone else associated with me.”
Cherina’s hands settle around the mug, gripping it tightly. “That may be true, but now the entire coven is involved. We don’t need a war between witches and vamps over some unimportant human.”
Blood rushes through my head. The words shoot from my mouth without control. “Antoinette is important to me!”
“Why? Give me one good reason why, and I’ll drop it,” Cherina says flatly.
“Our lives are tied together.” The words spill out through my gritted teeth—frustration peals in my tone. “Elsbeth says if I die, so will Antoinette.”
“Oh.” Cherina mutters and glances away from me. “I warned you about this.”
“Yeah, you did, but I don’t think either of us knew the full extent of what might happen.”
“No. We didn’t.” She shakes her head and glares in my direction. “If Elsbeth told you those things, then it’s a done deal. She’s the most powerful witch around. If she can’t undo it, no one can.”
Undo it? The last thing I want is someone pulling me away from Antoinette. She’s who I want to be with. Period.
Took you long enough to realize it.
“First, Cherina, I don’t want it undone.” She opens her mouth to undoubtedly chastise me, but I raise my hand. “Don’t ask me to explain it, but Antoinette means everything to me. Second, Elsbeth said the Fates have decided.”
“Decided what exactly?”
I repeat the words The Red Witch told me. “Antoinette and I will be together in life and death. Nothing will break the bond between us.”
Cherina runs a hand through her long hair. “Is this why you’re here?”
“No,” I admit. “You know what happened with Delaney?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Antoinette has asked for time to deal with it. I agreed to give it to her, but…”
“You’re not so sure now.” Cherina takes a sip from her mug. “If you want my advice, you’re going to have to ride it out.”
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t matter what you say to the girl. She’s always going to have that image of you kissing Delaney in her mind. If Antoinette asked for time, she needs it. Give it to her.”
“But it’s killing me. I can’t sleep.” Lowering my head to the table, I mumble, “I barely ate anything yesterday.”
“Poor, Marcus. Who would have thought it would take two lifetimes for you to discover true love?”
My head rocks up.
Cherina smiles. “I’m not saying you’re in love or if this is a soul-mate thing. I’m just saying you sound like a man in love. If that’s the case, and if Antoinette feels the same, you’re going to have to win her over.”
“I was never good at such a thing.”
“It’s a perfect time to learn. Go home, Marcus. Think about what she needs from you, not what you want to give her. I’m sure you’ll figure out a solution.”
“That’s the best you got?” Cherina’s a witch. Shouldn’t she pull out a magic ball or some crystals and tell me what I should do? What I must do?
“You wanted to be human.” Cherina rises and picks up our mugs. “This is what mortals deal with. They don’t get answers about what they should and shouldn’t do in life. They have to figure it out for themselves. If they make mistakes, they learn to move past them.”
Rising to my feet, I study my friend. Doesn’t she realize I’ve never been good at doing the right thing? “You’re serious?”
“Yes, I am.” Cherina opens the front door. “Good night, Marcus.”
The next few days blur into each other. I go about my work like an automaton, only paying attention when someone, namely Samson, notices a blunder. I’m so grateful for him. The shifter is smart and has a keen sense of business. He’s been with the Club since it opened and has plenty of insight.
“Listen, Uraeleus…Marc… It’s your party, but I’ve seen things, and I know the people here. It’s a fine balance between the human population and the supernaturals,” he says, leaning over the bar counter.
“Understood. Do you approve of my changes?”
“Personally, I think the VIP suites upstairs are something that’s been needed from the beginning. It might discourage some of the scum that likes to slither through here. But, you still have to accommodate the gutter skanks.”
Stifling the chuckle threatening to spill out, I ask, “What do you have in mind?”
“Separate this lower level. Build a separate room with a stage for local performers. Give them enough room for a mosh pit. There’s space if you incorporate the structure next door. I checked into it for you. The place is empty and up for sale at a reasonable cost. I took the liberty of speaking to Victor about the purchase.”
“You did?” I lift an eyebrow. This beast’s proactive way of thinking is much appreciated.
“Yeah. He’s all for it and will make the purchase as long as you agree with the plan.”
Mulling over the idea, I ask, “Can we make it an extension of the current club? Give it a separate entrance with a different cover charge?”
The giant-sized shifter’s brows touch. “Sure, it’s possible. If it were up to me, I’d put some of my strongest bears on the door. Make sure folks know we ain’t putting up with shit.”
Turning around, I grab a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers. Pouring out a scant amount in each glass, I say, “I only have one issue.”
“What’s that, boss?”
“I need someone to help manage it.” Sliding a glass across the counter, I silently inventory the shifter. He’s smart, strong, and proactive. He has a genuine sense of right and wrong. Rumor has it that deep down he’s a softie, but he always protects those he cares about. Honestly, Samson is the perfect being for the job. “You down for it?”
“Me?” Samson’s head cocks to one side. “You want me to manage?”
“Yeah, assist me managing this place. I need someone who will back me up when I’m not available. Samson, I trust you. You make sure the door is always co
vered. We haven’t had one fight in the club since you started managing security.”
He extends his massive hand across the counter. Without hesitation, I shake it.
“Do you want humans or supernaturals running the extension?”
“I want both. Make sure they’re dependable and look the part. Also, find a good name for the new club. The patrons of the Temptation Club, especially the VIPs, shouldn’t feel threatened.”
Samson reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone. He taps on the screen a few times before handing it to me. Displayed is the name The Savage Spot with what looks like a tribal tattoo of a skull and a pair of wings. Nice.
“Did you draw this?”
Color rushes to the big man’s cheeks. “I like to dabble.”
“Well, I’m sold on it. The name is good too. Just work on the logo some more. Make it more cohesive. Show it to me when you’re done.”
The shifter doesn’t say a word. His face is like a plank of wood—motionless.
“Did you not hear me, Samson?”
“Yeah. I heard you.” He blows air out of his cheeks. “Just shocked.”
“Why?”
“Luc never valued me nor my ideas. The asshole has no love for shifters. He only kept me on the door because there wasn’t a vamp he trusted to guard it.”
“Well, I’m not Luc.” As a Praetorian Cohort, I ran my sector of the Guard with the utmost respect. I was never an asshole to the men who worked with me.
Samson picks up the glass and tosses back his drink in one gulp. “That’s for damn sure. I’m honored you think so much of me. I’ll get my best bears on it. If you don’t mind, I know some Dark Ones who would want in on the new place.”
He means dark angels. Perfect choice—those creatures have no love for anyone and won’t be easily corrupted.
“Go right ahead, Samson. I want to meet anyone you’re thinking to hire. You have my number. I’ll be at home for the rest of the day.”
“Can I say something, Marc? Before you go?”
“Is there a problem?”
The shifter stands straighter, forcing me to look up. “I don’t know what’s changed in your existence, but it’s a good change. Honestly, you were the biggest ass in town other than Luc Duquette. You would have been hard pressed to find one supernatural who liked you.”
“And now?”
“A lot of us are learning to respect you. If you need anything, you can rely on the Mohawk Valley clan to help you out.”
Well, damn. I guess you really do draw more bears with honey.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Antoinette
Days have passed since I witnessed Marc and the redhead kissing, but I can’t seem to forget it. The torturous image keeps playing in my mind, but that’s not the worst part. It’s the image stuck on pause. The one where Marc enjoys the gesture. It wasn’t some casual kiss. I lost use of my legs, not my eyes. Anyone could see how much he liked the kiss.
According to Elsbeth, what I saw was a scheme cooked up by a vampire with a vendetta. I guess it’s possible. Right up there with believing in the existence of supernaturals. And that’s where the problem lies for me. Accepting Elsbeth’s answer means more than my acknowledging the existence of otherworldly beings. It means accepting that someone—regardless of whether they’re human or supernatural—engineered things to make me forget about Marc. News flash: it’s not working. I can’t seem to pry the handsome man from my thoughts. Every time I close my eyes, he’s there…in my mind…tempting me. But my imagination is getting the better of me because now I see myself in his arms. He’s enjoying my kisses.
Is that something you’d like?
Confusion and frustration compete, robbing me of knowing what I want. Before the accident, I was on a solid path paved with the steps required to become a star—a prima ballerina.
“Try focusing, Antoinette,” my trainer instructs. “You can do this if you’d get your head out of the clouds.”
“Can I have a minute?” I ask, leaning on the handrails. My mind just isn’t in it today.
Scott helps me back in the wheelchair. Once I’m seated, he asks, “What’s going on?”
“You’re a man—”
“So you’ve noticed?” A smile tugs at his lips.
“Seriously. I have a question.”
He looks at me expectedly but doesn’t say a word.
“It’s kind of personal.” I wait a minute to see if Scott will offer a comment, but he doesn’t. “If you were attracted to someone and saw her kissing another man, how would you react?”
“I might want to beat the shit out of him.” He stares off into space for a moment before continuing. “Problem is, situations like those are rarely one-sided. She probably encouraged him.”
My shoulders slump. “That’s what I thought.” There’s a good chance Marc instigated the woman’s action.
Scott peers at me with an inquisitive gaze. “Is this about the man who came to see you the other day?”
“Yes,” I confess. “I saw him kissing someone.”
Scott cocks his head. “Did you see him kiss someone, or did you see someone kiss him?”
“What difference does that make?”
“I saw how he looked at you. Something tells me you saw a woman throwing herself at him. It’s happened before.”
“Yeah, right.” Welcome to the men’s club—they stick up for each other no matter what they’ve done wrong.
“I’m serious. Women have done it to me plenty of times. If I’m interested in them, then it’s a win-win.” Scott’s voice drops. “But if I’m not, it’s really embarrassing.” If Scott could blush, I’m sure his face would be a bright shade of red. Instead, he lowers his gaze.
“Did you get an…” I can’t complete the sentence.
Scott glances up. “An erection?”
I nod.
“Sometimes. Sadly, it happened with the wrong girl. I was in a relationship back then. Needless to say, it was over after the kiss.”
This conversation just became more interesting. “Were you attracted to the girl who kissed you?”
“Not really, but she was very pretty. She started rubbing up against me and well…”
“I get it.” The last thing I need is the image of another man with a swollen crotch in my mind.
But Scott’s story does paint a different likelihood. Perhaps Victor told me the truth about Marc, and I should cut the man some slack.
Scott guides my chair closer to the parallel bars. “Word of advice?”
“Yeah?”
“If you caught that guy with his lips on someone else, ask yourself if it was truly one-sided. It’s conceivable for a man to enjoy a kiss without being attracted to the woman. But, Toni, ask yourself if this is normal behavior for him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Is the guy a player? If he has a tendency to go from woman to woman, then you’ll catch him locking lips again with someone else.”
Marc did say he slept with plenty of women back in his day, but should I hold his past against him? A great deal of time has passed. Is it possible Marc has changed?
“Shit,” I mumble.
“Exactly.” Scott gets ready to help me stand. “Let’s finish this session.”
I hesitate for a minute.
“Last piece of free advice,” Scott says. “If the man is real about his feelings for you, let him come to you.”
“But I asked him for some time to think. Shouldn’t I—”
“Nope. Let him realize his mistake. If he’s innocent, he’ll come back to you. Just be patient.”
I smile thinly, but I’m not totally on board with Scott’s advice. What if Marc doesn’t come back? Where does that leave me?
Later in the day I get a visitor, but it’s not who I’m looking for. She’s the one person I’d rather not see. Ever again.
“Your mother said I could come on back.” The beautiful witch comes into my room. “Can we talk?”
“
If this is about Marc, don’t worry. I haven’t seen him,” I say sharply, rolling my eyes.
Cherina smiles weakly. “I guess I deserve your attitude. I wasn’t very nice to you.”
Understatement. She butted into something that didn’t concern her.
“So what do you want?”
I haven’t offered the witch a seat, but she sits on the chair anyway. “I’m sorry for meddling.”
Wow. I didn’t see that coming.
She continues, “I overstepped boundaries, but I only did so to protect Marcus.”
“Well, thanks for the apology.” I pause, waiting for Cherina to leave, but she doesn’t. “Look, it’s not like we’re about to be friends or anything. We have nothing else to talk about.”
She crosses her long legs. “Yes, we do. There are things you don’t know. I’m here to fill you in.”
What now? Is she about to tell me about Marc’s past? Heard it, and I don’t need to hear anymore.
But maybe you should.
As my chest tightens, I wish Mom would interrupt, but she doesn’t. I take a deep breath before asking, “What things?”
Cherina locks eyes with mine. “When Marcus saved you, he intrinsically tied the two of you together. It’s a metaphysical bond that can’t be broken. What happens to one will happen to both.”
A sudden chill curves down my spine. The sensation alerts me—my doctors say it’s an indicator I might walk again—but also scares the shit out of me.
“What does that mean?”
Cherina lifts her chin. “Simply put? If you die, so does Marcus.”
“And if he dies, I do too?” I mutter.
“It goes a little deeper than that. Marcus can only return to the spirit world as the being he was before. If that happens, you’ll join him there.” She pauses and studies me for a moment. “If he hasn’t told you, he was a wraith.”
“Not a news flash. He told me that much. I’m not completely sure why he became one though.”
“Because he killed his father. Before that he was just a ghost, but when he caused his father’s death, Marcus invited evil into his soul. His spirit darkened, and he became a wraith. Unfortunately, thanks to Marcus’s actions, the same fate awaits you.”