by Jen Colly
Chapter 19
Balinese
After their tryst in the shower, Rollin had gone through his pre-shift routine, conscious of his audience. Bette watched him intently, as if she’d never seen a man get ready to leave his home. She’d been content to sit on the edge of the bathtub, wrapped in a towel, her damp hair dripping over her shoulder. But somewhere in the midst of his shaving, she’d suddenly become frantic, rushing about to get ready and voicing a previously non-existent desire to visit with the Lady of Balinese.
There had been a change in her the moment they stepped out his door together. Bette was more confident, her touch affectionate, and the way she clung to his arm less fearful.
Rollin held out his arm, catching Bette and blocking her progression down the corridor. “Just tell me why you’re pushing for this so hard.”
“The lady is near her due date,” she answered simply. “There must be some way for me to help.”
He curled a finger beneath her chin, tipping her face up. “And now the truth?”
“I’m not…” Her jaw dropped slightly, and her chin quivered, but after an unsteady breath, she said, “That’s a very long time to be alone.”
Rollin pulled her into his arms, hugging her close before she could see the concern that would surely make an appearance on his face. He’d hoped her fears would begin to fade, that she would come to trust he would keep her safe, but he knew all too well the grip trauma had over someone healed at its own pace, if at all.
Before he’d known her, he might have misconstrued her change of heart, suspected her of trying to inch closer to the royal family to cause harm, but he couldn’t fathom her being malicious.
A jolt of surprise whipped through him. He had every intention of walking her through that door and leaving her there. He was trusting Bette with his family.
True, she wasn’t aware of the connection, but that wasn’t the point. Rollin knew. And he knew Bette. Her fears continued to rule her when triggered, and he was still putting together the missing pieces, trying to connect exactly what it was about her that he didn’t yet understand, but what he knew with absolute certainty was that Bette didn’t have a hateful bone in her body. Unlike half his family. Even Barro had an issue or two.
“You know the panther lives with her, right?”
Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, hesitantly glancing at the door. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”
“Barro won’t hurt you,” he said, laughing softly as he steered her toward the Casteel home. “Honestly, I’d be more worried about Cat.”
Rollin opened the door, and was immediately greeted with a squealing giggle. Oriana took a running leap at him, and he caught her with one arm, tickling her as he carried her across the room.
“You are supposed to be in school,” he scolded, dropping her back onto her feet.
Fat curls flying wildly around her head and her face pink, she smiled so big her nose crinkled. Oriana charged him again, arms first and fingers wiggling. Her tickling methods didn’t work, but that didn’t stop her from trying. “And you haven’t been here in…forever!”
Holding her back with one hand, Rollin said sincerely, “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, Oriana. I promise.”
“Fine, but you still get tickle tortured,” she said, grunting as she dug her feet into the carpet and pushed forward.
“You can’t win,” he chided, and Oriana peered up at him, putting on a great show of being mad.
Then Rollin gave a shout as he jerked, his shoulder trying to meet his ear in an effort to shake whatever was crawling up his neck. Fingers? His muscles stopped twitching, and as he rolled his shoulders out, he noticed Bette standing at his side, smiling sweetly and looking far too innocent. She’d tickled him?
“I’m on her side.” Bette sent him a quick wink.
“Now, that was worth being late to school!” Dropping her voice low, Oriana mocked him, “I’m Rollin, and I can’t be tickled.” Then she reenacted his tickle-induced spasm as she headed for the door.
“Very funny,” Rollin said, booting her in the rear as she moved past him.
“I like your friend. You should bring her around more often,” Oriana said, throwing her bag over her shoulder. Then she whispered, “But not today. Mama’s in a mood.”
Oriana faked one last jerking contortion, then ducked out the door. He smiled, shaking his head at her antics.
“So, that was Oriana?” Bette said, her smile lighting her eyes.
“Yeah, she’s a good kid,” he said.
They entered the dining room to the sound of Barro’s tail thumping the carpet. Though interested in Bette, the panther showed no signs of leaving his cozy spot on top of Cat’s feet.
Cat was a comforting and familiar sight sitting at her glass table, though she appeared deceivingly sweet in her satin, mint-green maternity clothes. With a steaming mug before her, and another at an open chair, she waited as patiently as she was able, though not for him.
“You’re welcome to sit, Bette,” Cat said, her gaze sliding to him. “I can offer you tea. It tastes like wet socks, but I’m told it’s good for me.”
“I, uh, need to get to my shift,” Rollin said, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck, uneasy with the focus being on him.
“We wouldn’t want you to be late.” Cat smiled, all sugary sweet, reminding him of all the times he’d chastised her for running late.
Rollin placed a quick kiss on Bette’s cheek. It had been impulsive. He shouldn’t have kissed her, especially in front of Cat, but Bette needed reassurance, and that was the best he could do in the moment.
Rollin sent Cat a look, scolding her prematurely for anything she was likely to do. “Behave.”
Bette turned and gaped at him. “You think I wouldn’t?”
“I didn’t…” Rollin couldn’t tell her he was dictating how the lady of the city should act in his absence. “Never mind.”
Spinning on his heel, he left the dining room before he could dig himself any deeper, but as he reached for the handle, Cat spoke.
“I’m only allowing you, a stranger within my city, to enter my home because Rollin asked.” The lady’s voice carried to his ears.
“You two must be close,” Bette said, a wistfulness to her words. “I can see you trust him a great deal.”
“Rollin is dear to me, so naturally, I need to ask what your interest is in him?”
“Rollin is well aware of my interests in him,” Bette said, answering and yet dodging the question.
“You’re much older than him, aren’t you?” Cat asked.
He should have known it wouldn’t take Cat long to become combative. Rollin turned back toward the dining hall to defend Bette. This was a bad idea. He should have known Cat had her own reasons for letting him bring Bette here.
“A great deal older, I should think,” Bette answered.
Rollin stopped dead center in the living room. Once again, Bette was dismissing hostility, twisting the situation with diplomacy to work in her favor. What would happen when Cat decided she didn’t like her sidestepping around answers and became belligerent? He could already hear Cat ramping up to an all-out war. Could Bette handle her then?
“Move out of his home,” Cat said with all the authority and finality of her position as lady.
Rollin hung suspended in that moment, holding his breath and waiting for Bette to speak, and when she did, she didn’t disappoint.
A cup was set on the glass table with a slight clink, then Bette said, “I find it touching that you care deeply for the well-being of your citizens, but with all due respect, my lady, Rollin is a grown man capable of making his own decisions. He’s said I can stay, and for as long as he wishes me to remain by his side, I shall.”
“Tread carefully,” Cat warned. “I haven’t decided if I like you or not.”
“Wo
nderfully put,” Bette agreed with enthusiasm. “My sentiments exactly.”
Rollin shook his head, stealthily slipping out the door with a grin on his face. He didn’t have to worry about her at all. Bette was surprising and refreshing, and for as long as he didn’t screw this up, completely his.
His. Rollin let the word roll around in his mind, and he couldn’t deny that it sounded good. Hell, it felt good, too. So, yeah, he was walking with his chest puffed out and pride in his step. He’d never been able to pinpoint exactly what it was he wanted in woman, and now he knew why. There was no one like Bette.
Ahead, Tarmon leaned lazily against the corner of a wall, speaking with someone down the hall out of eyesight. Heck, just knowing Bette was coming home with him after shift made working with Tarmon somewhat tolerable.
Hearing his approach, Tarmon looked over his shoulder. “You’re never late, man.”
“What can I say, I’m having a lot of firsts tonight. Let’s go.”
“Can’t,” Tarmon said. “I’m not the only one waiting for you.”
As Rollin approached, Navarre stepped into the corridor. “I need a word.”
“I’ll just wait over there,” Tarmon said, starting to walk away, then he turned and pointed at Navarre, now walking backward. “You’re paying me to take a walk, and wait around doing nothing. This is why I love my job.”
Tarmon wandered away, and when he was out of earshot, Rollin turned to Navarre. This wasn’t the first time Navarre had sought him out for a private conversation, but something about his stance put Rollin on edge before he’d even uttered a word.
Now guarded, Rollin crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s going on?”
“Rollin, I signed several documents today,” Navarre said, his patient, unruffled tone a tool he often wielded when he needed to be heard. “Should anything happen to Cat and I, our child will be placed in your care. The second document will give you charge over Balinese.”
Time stopped, at least inside his head. This was a great honor, more so as he was not of Casteel blood. Truly touched by the full weight of Navarre’s trust in him, Rollin said sincerely, “I would be honored to be custodian to this city, and once your child is of age—”
“You misunderstand me, Rollin,” Navarre said, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder. “The city is yours. The line of succession begins with you and will then follow your adopted siblings by age, should they choose to accept the responsibility. But the unborn child Cat carries is last in that long line.”
“Impossible,” Rollin said, his voice above a whisper. “I’m not your blood.”
“Nothing is impossible,” Navarre said with a shrug, clearly undaunted. Though to be fair, his people trusted his judgment completely. He’d weathered little opposition even when marrying Cat. If anything would bring about protests, it should be a pure-blooded aristocrat marrying a redheaded Forbidden. Few had cared.
“I don’t want this,” Rollin said. Disappointment and anger lashed through him, the force of it like having the air kicked from his lungs. The captaincy was all he’d ever wanted, all he’d dreamed of, and everything he worked for with each breath. He hadn’t even had a chance to prove himself. “I intend to be captain.”
Navarre nodded. “This isn’t happening tomorrow, son. At least I hope not, but you need to think more than one step ahead. If you’re captain when it comes time to take control of Balinese, then your city will have a lord, but no captain.”
“It would leave the city weak, and we can’t yet factor in by what circumstances you would have been taken out of ruling,” he said, several scenarios already shifting through his head, considerations for what had happened in the past being taken into account.
“Rollin, it’s in your nature to rule.” Navarre smiled, that satisfied smile he gave when he was sure he’d gotten his way. “Do what you do best. Control the chaos in whatever aftermath arises from my death. Then, should you decide the next sibling is capable of ruling, step down. But that choice will be yours, and you will know what to do in that moment.”
“Why me?”
“You have seen your family though countless catastrophes with a cool head and sound judgment. This is what I want for my city.”
Rollin’s abilities as a Guardian were top notch, but they were expected, and as a result he was often overlooked. To be recognized and appreciated for the man he’d become was overwhelming. His voice rough with emotion, he said, “Navarre, I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing. Embrace your fate.”
Rollin let out a breath that ended on a soft laugh. He’d always embraced his fate, accepting with open arms whatever was thrown his way, including four siblings, Cat, Navarre, the adoption, and Bette. The best parts of his life existed because he didn’t fight fate.
The telltale static of the radio at Rollin’s hip broke the silence, and Briona’s panicked voice came across, “Boys, C-1! Move!”
“Tarmon!” Rollin yelled, but Tarmon was already in motion, taking two long strides before vanishing.
Rollin wasn’t able to take Spirit, so he ran, easily outpacing Navarre. C-1 was the Casteel home, and he couldn’t seem to move fast enough. Racing up the corridor, Rollin dodged citizens as he made his way to the Casteel wing.
The world around Rollin slowed as he stepped into that royal-blue carpeted hall, but when he burst into Navarre’s home, his steps faltered and time stopped.
A man—no, a demon—lay on the floor, with Barro’s teeth deep in its shoulder. Nine months pregnant, Cat gripped a knife in her hand, black blood coating the blade. She’d already gotten a piece of it, and was after more. Bette stood before Cat, arms out, a barrier between the pregnant woman and the demon.
And as Tarmon raced to help her and keep Cat from clawing her way past Bette and to the demon, Rollin noticed something. Bette wasn’t afraid. Instead she stared down the demon, seeming both perplexed by its presence and determined to keep it from Cat.
“Hey, man, snap out of it,” Tarmon yelled, effectively drawing Rollin’s full attention. Tarmon and Bette were both barely holding onto Cat. “Take control of that demon before Cat knifes me in the back to get to it.”
Rollin took a step toward the demon, but Barro growled, his whiskered lips pulling back from his teeth, revealing the bloody sight of his teeth locked into the demon’s shoulder. When he took a second step, Barro adjusted his bite. The demon howled in pain, flailing as the panther drug it a short way across the floor.
Barro was twitchy, agitated, and unhappy about someone taking away his demon. He’d seen Cat pull Barro off a demon once, and there was an art to calming the animal.
Crouching down, Rollin pulled his knife, twisting it directly into Barro’s line of sight. The flash of metal caught Barro’s attention, and his wild snarls diminished to chuffs. It didn’t mesmerize, but reassured. As long as Barro thought someone would kill the demon, he could be persuaded to give up his prize.
Reaching out, she placed his hand over the panther’s neck, and when the only reaction was a twitch of his whiskers, Rollin curled his fingers, grabbing the scruff of the panther’s neck.
“Barro,” Rollin murmured. “Leave him to me.”
The panther’s whiskers twitched, and with a few more sweet words and a firm tug on the scruff of his neck, Barro reluctantly gave up his prey. Slowly, Rollin pulled the demon to stand, stepping between him and the pacing, watchful panther.
“Switch me,” Tarmon offered. “You can have your family. I’ll take the demon.”
Rollin nodded, more than willing to hand over the demon in favor of checking on his family. Tarmon stepped forward, taking hold of the wobbling demon, and Rollin went straight to Cat, checking her for signs of injury. Dagger still gripped in her hand, Cat once again tried to push closer to the demon.
“Hey!” Rollin caught her, twisting the dagger from her hand. “Not happening.”
Even disarmed, Cat was lethal, and with that glare she was sending his way, he wasn’t moving from her path. Before Cat had a chance to fight him on the subject, Navarre was at her side, arms around her, hugging her as closely as her belly allowed.
Soren and Titus rushed in, and coming to the quick realization that the situation was under control, sheathed their weapons.
Rollin finally allowed himself to focus on Bette. Wide-eyed and shell-shocked, she looked only at him. He reached out, cupped the back of her head, and pulled her against his chest. Holding her, knowing she was safe… Rollin drew in a long, deep breath. Then a second.
He hugged her tightly, relieved to have her in his arms. He hadn’t known he would fear for her life this greatly, but as he looked over the top of her head to his family inside this room, he realized why. He wanted her here with him, a permanent part of his life.
“If you won’t kill that thing now, then get it out of my home,” Cat snapped at Tarmon, who still held the demon.
Tarmon opened his mouth, stopped himself, then drew in a sharp breath and pushed on in a matter of fact tone. “Death seems a bit harsh.”
“It came into my home!” Cat yelled.
Rollin cringed. These two had always hated each other, and though Tarmon got off on confrontation, this time he wasn’t willing to slink off and cede the fight.
“With no weapon. It didn’t even bite, which is more than we can say about your house pet.” Tarmon’s gaze slid over to the agitated panther. Tarmon had a point.
Rollin had noticed the lack of weapons as well, and to take it one step further, the demon didn’t seem at all aggressive. He backed Tarmon’s assessment. “You can’t claim attempted murder. It didn’t happen.”
This was getting out of hand, and fast. Even Barro could sense the tension in the room, his tail twitching and ears flicking. The panther didn’t like seeing Cat riled, but hadn’t decided if this situation required his intervention. Yet.
“It cornered me.” Cat slid a glance over to him and pointed at Bette. “And her.”
“Cornered, but didn’t attack. What did it want?” Rollin asked.