by Donya Lynne
Cordray rode a Ducati. Nice. He wouldn’t mind pretending to be a Ducati if she ever wanted to straddle him and take a ride.
“I feel sorry for it,” he said, following her.
“What? My Ducati?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t imagine a more vile place to be than between your legs.”
She stopped and spun around, her expression one of utter irritation. “For God’s sake, don’t you ever turn off?”
Not when I’m having so much fun. “Nope.”
“Well, how about you tone it down a notch?”
Before he could respond, a loud clang sounded behind him. He jumped instinctively and lifted his right hand as he spun around. Cordray slapped it down before he could send a charge at whoever had startled him.
“Cool it, twitchy fingers,” she said as two toddlers burst from the back door of the house and charged onto the deck.
“Coco!” The children tumbled down the steps, blond curls flying as they rushed toward Cordray. “Coco! Coco!” Their tiny arms flew out, their stubby, unsteady legs kicking as they ran.
Cordray dropped her duffel and knelt, arms outstretched, then scooped the little girl up and tossed her in the air as she screeched with laughter.
“Me! Me, too!” The little boy hopped up and down as he reached for Cordray.
Trace stood back, unable to do anything but stare, curious how Cordray could be so welcoming to these two small children yet so callous and gruff toward him and everyone else. Surprising even himself, he realized he actually enjoyed seeing this side of her.
She set the little girl down and lifted the boy, who laughed as she spun him around. It was as if she’d forgotten Trace was even there. The little boy shrieked and laughed, begging for more.
“Did you two miss me?” Cordray said, still pirouetting the boy while the little girl danced and skipped a circle at her feet.
Their bubbling laughter sang infectiously through the morning air, warming his insides as the sun’s first light heated the back of his neck.
Trace wasn’t even aware he was smiling until the little girl caught sight of him and stopped. She sucked in her breath, her plump cheeks bright pink, and stared up at him. Her light-blue eyes popped open wide, and her tiny pink lips formed an O before she slid behind Cordray and grabbed her leg.
“Hi,” Trace said to her, trying to sound friendly. He wasn’t known for his warm fuzzies, though. More often than not, people shied away from him because of his scary disposition, so he had no idea how a two-year-old would react to him.
He sure hoped this went well.
Cordray looked down at the little girl, then up at Trace. “Don’t worry, Aiden. He won’t hurt you.” Cordray issued him a stern, warning glance to drive her point home. “This is Trace. Trace, that’s Aiden.” She nodded toward the little girl. “And this little guy”—she set the boy down as if presenting him—“is her brother, Nelek, but we all call him Null. They’re fraternal twins.” She knelt between the two children and wrapped her arms around their tiny waists. “Aiden? Null? Trace is . . .” Cordray caught Trace’s eye, clenched her jaw, and then continued. “Trace is a friend of mine.”
That must have been hard for her to say, because it was extremely hard for him to hear without laughing. Her friend?
Was hell freezing over right now?
Biting back the urge to laugh, Trace knelt in front of them. “Hi, Aiden.” The little girl ducked against Cordray’s shoulder, hands shyly covering her face. He turned his attention toward the little boy. Maybe he’d have better luck there. “Hi . . . Null, is it?”
The little boy nodded and grinned, cheeks flushed, but he didn’t shy away like his sister. “Hi,” he said softly. His blue-eyed gaze landed on Trace’s head, and he took a cautious step forward. “What happened to your hair?” His voice was soft, gentle, the r lilting a bit like a w so that hair sounded like haiow.
Null took another tentative step, his eyes fixed in fascination on Trace’s head as he lifted his small hand. Trace could have fit five of Null’s hands into one of his.
Out of the corner of his eye, Trace saw Aiden’s luminous blue eyes peek curiously out from between her fingers.
Trace grinned. “I shaved it off.” He leaned forward. “Wanna feel it?”
Null drew in an enthralled breath, and his eyes, which so perfectly matched Aiden’s, grew wide as saucers. “Why did you shave it off? Did you have lice? This kid I knew once. He got lice. His mommy shaved his head, too.”
Cordray choked back a laugh. No doubt she had an insult sitting on the tip of her tongue she was dying to let rip.
“Nooo,” Trace said, drawing the word out. “I didn’t have lice.” He raised an eyebrow at Cordray to warn her not to bring this up later, but he doubted she would heed it.
Aiden blinked her big peepers at him and took a tiny step his direction. “Do you have cancer?” Her expression turned sad as she dropped her hands from her face.
Who were these kids? How did they know about things like lice and cancer at such a young age?
“How do you know about cancer?” Trace said.
Aiden glanced down at her feet and spoke quietly. “Mommy had it. She died.”
Cordray gave him a look that made it clear she would tell him more about Aiden and Null later.
“I don’t have cancer,” Trace said, turning a gentle smile toward Aiden. “I just don’t like hair. Never have. The less the better, so I shaved mine off.”
Null shuffled closer and patted his small hands on the sides of Trace’s head. Tap-tap-tap. His palms made quiet slapping noises against Trace’s skull. “Then why do you like Coco?” He kept patting as he glanced curiously between him and Cordray, his blond eyebrows scrunched over his nose. “She’s got lots of haiow.”
Trace’s voice caught in his throat as he looked at Cordray. With her kneeling as she was, the tip of her long black braid brushed the ground. “Uh . . .” He frowned, not sure what to say.
“The things that come out of the mouths of babes, right?” Cordray said with an air of dismay as she averted her gaze. “And if you haven’t figured it out, yet, they call me Coco. Cordray was a bit too much for their young mouths to handle.”
“Um, yeah. I kind of got that.” Trace locked eyes with her for an instant before glancing back at Null. “And you ask too many questions, little man.” He tapped Null’s tiny nose with the tip of his index finger.
“Nuh-uh.” Null jutted out his bottom lip as he fought not to smile.
“Uh-huh.” Trace poked him in the stomach, making him giggle and grab his tummy like the Pillsbury Dough Boy.
“Nuh-uh!” Null stepped forward almost daringly and poked Trace in the chest, then jumped back, giggling.
“Uh-huh!” Trace grabbed the little boy and shot to his feet, lifting him into the air.
Null squealed in laughter as Trace plopped him on his shoulders. His little arms flung around Trace’s head, halfway over his eyes, and his sneakered feet hooked under his armpits.
Trace trotted in a small circle, giving Null a pony ride as he secured his tiny legs in his grip so he didn’t fall. Null screeched and let out another peal of bubbly laughter.
Cordray lifted Aiden and set her on her hip and shook her head at Trace. “You’d better be careful. He’s not yet—”
“Uh-oh.” Null stopped laughing, and Trace felt wet warmth trickle down the back of his neck and shoulders.
Trace froze. Uh-oh was right.
Cordray started laughing. “As I was about to say, he’s not yet got full control of his bladder.”
“I’m sowwy,” Null said.
Trace lifted him off his shoulders. Null hung his head and tears welled in his eyes as Trace set him down and knelt in front of him.
Poor little guy looked like he was about to cry.
Trace ruffled his hair. “Don’t sweat it, little man. I won’t melt.”
Null didn’t look convinced.
Trace lightly pinched his button nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying to get him to smile. “It takes a lot more than a little pee to upset me.” He grinned as Null cracked a smile. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll pee my pants, too, and then we can make Coco clean it all up. What do you think of that?”
Null scrunched his face and giggled like he’d just been told an incriminating secret.
“Um, no,” Cordray said. “How about no one pees their pants anymore today and Coco won’t have to kick Trace’s butt any more than she’s already going to kick it?”
Null and Aiden giggled, but the look Cordray gave Trace was laced with a silent warning. He smirked wickedly at her, knowing she wouldn’t do or say anything foul in front of the kids.
The back door opened, and a female with long, sandy-blond hair, wearing jeans and a peach-colored, oversized tunic, stepped outside, bringing the scent of pancakes, bacon, and hot maple syrup with her. She smiled at Cordray. “You made it just in time for breakfast.” The female’s gaze met Trace’s, and she acknowledged him with a wary nod. “Hi. Are you joining us?”
“Trace, this is Brenna,” Cordray said. “Brenna, Trace. He’s going to be working here for the next few months.”
Brenna’s eyes narrowed as her gaze shot from Cordray to him. “I see. Well, you’d better eat before you get started.” Her words were welcoming enough, but her gaze was still guarded.
Apparently, Brenna wasn’t the type to trust easily. Good for her. That was a good skill to carry in this world where it was sometimes hard to tell who your enemies were.
Cordray set Aiden down and gave her rump a pat. “Go on in with Brenna and get ready for school.” Aiden glanced at Trace, waved shyly good-bye, and then awkwardly darted up the steps to the door—almost tripping on the top step—and disappeared inside with Brenna.
Cordray took Null’s hand. “You come with me. We’ll get you into a fresh change of clothes.”
She motioned for Trace to follow her as she headed toward the building behind the main house that looked like a cross between a dorm and an apartment building. Her gaze flitted to his soiled T-shirt. “You can change while I take care of Null. Then I’ll give you the thirty-second tour and have Brenna toss your shirt in with the laundry before she starts class.”
“Class?”
She took the prefabricated concrete steps up to the small porch and twisted the door handle. “Yes, class. She’s one of the teachers I have on staff.” She pushed the door open and led him inside.
They entered what appeared to be a large community room. The space was filled with beanbag chairs, a couch, a couple of desks, a table, two recliners, and bins for toys. On the far wall hung a large flat-screen TV with a boss gaming console on the entertainment unit underneath. These kids lived in style.
He followed her past the room toward a set of stairs. Null toddled along beside her.
“This is where the kids go to school.” She waved her arm as if to encompass the entire first floor. “There are six small classrooms, even though we only use two of them right now.” She started up the stairs. “The kids’ rooms are up here. Brenna and Mya sleep up here, too.” She let go of Null’s hand and patted his rump. “Go up to your room and grab a clean change of clothes, okay? Hurry up.”
His tiny feet pounded on the stairs as he darted ahead of them.
“Mya? Who’s Mya?” His gaze was level with her firm, round ass, and his eyelids slid like silk over his eyes as he grinned at the thought of giving her a little hello squeeze.
“Mya’s the other female who helps me out full time around here. Asylum relies on volunteers for most of the labor, but Mya and Brenna are always here. They take care of the kids when I’m gone, and they run the school.”
At the top of the stairs, she directed him into the bathroom, where she wet a washcloth and grabbed a towel out of the linen closet. “You can change in here. Meet me back downstairs when you’re finished.” She briefly eyed his chest then turned and hurried down the hall. A few seconds later, he heard her say, “Okay, little man, let’s get you out of those clothes and clean you up.”
Trace shut the bathroom door and set his duffel on the counter before peeling his soiled shirt over his head.
He grabbed a washcloth of his own from the closet, wet it, and brushed it over the back of his neck and shoulders as he blindly stared at his reflection in the mirror. But it wasn’t his adult self he saw. It was the child he’d once been.
Scared, hungry, and cowering in the dark, cold forest. His mother was dead. He’d thought his father and brother were dead, too. Like the kids Cordray looked after, he’d been alone. An orphan.
Luckily, a tribe of Choctaw Indians had found him on their way west to Oklahoma. The tribe’s prophet, an elder named Holahta, said it was a great honor to save him. That he would grow to be powerful and do good deeds for mankind. For a short time, Trace had found a place with the tribe and hadn’t felt like a complete freak, even though many in the tribe kept their distance.
But his time with the Choctaw, while comforting and educational, had been short-lived. On his twenty-sixth birthday, fully transitioned into his adult vampire body, Holahta passed away, and the tribe’s chief told him it was time for him to make his own way. That his path didn’t lie with the Choctaw. And so he was cast from the nest.
That had been nearly one hundred eighty years ago. He’d headed north, eventually finding his way to Chicago and AKM. Then he’d found Micah, and Sam by extension.
With Micah and Sam, he was no longer a lonely freak. For the first time in his life, he fit in. He was accepted and loved.
And yet, it still wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted a mate of his own. He didn’t want to have to always borrow Micah’s during their trysts.
He desperately longed to form the kind of attachment to his own mate the way Micah had with Sam. The way Sev had with Ari, Malek had with Gina, and Io—the resident playboy—had with Princess Miriam. Hell, if Io could find a mate, surely he could.
But he hadn’t. Not yet. Maybe he never would.
Everyone around him was taking a mate, and, once more, he found himself on the outside looking in. Left behind. With a family of vampires all around him, and yet utterly alone in the one way that mattered most in his heart.
He shut off the faucet and tossed the washcloth aside before drying himself and pulling on a clean shirt. Then he zipped up his duffel, snagged his dirty shirt, and made his way back downstairs, where Cordray was waiting alone, arms crossed, ass planted on the arm of the couch.
“Where’s little man?” he said, looking around for Null.
She pushed to her feet and dropped her arms to her sides as she opened the door. “He went up to the house for breakfast.” She stepped outside. “What the hell took you so long up there? I was beginning to think you were jacking off or something.”
He scowled and sauntered down the porch steps. “Maybe I was jacking off.”
She shut the door behind them. “What you do in your own time is your business, but I won’t have that kind of shit around my kids.”
He held a palm toward her. “Christ, talk about chasing the end of a circle.” He huffed. “I was kidding.”
“Good.”
“What have you got against a little self-gratification, anyway?”
“Nothing, it’s just—”
“It’s not like beating off is a sin or anything. Unless you’re a bible thumper. Did you suddenly go all bible-thumper-crazy-Christian lady on me? Because you’re going to be no fun at all if you did.” He adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder and smirked, enjoying giving her shit. “I mean, I’d have to stop calling you Satan’s mistress. That would suck.”
“Would you just shut up and let me give you the rundown?”
“Rundown away, church lady.”
She sighed and shook her head then pointed to the barn. From here, he could see there was a chicken coop behind it, surrounded by a fence made of chicken wire. “That’s the stabl
e. We have two horses right now, but the kids want more, so . . . we’ll see.” She ushered him toward a pair of wooden boxes situated along the side of the building. She tipped the tops open and peered inside. He leaned over her shoulder and did the same. Both were empty. “Damn,” she said. “These are our cat houses. I was hoping to find a new mother in one of them.” She closed the tops.
“New mother?”
“We have a pair of females who are about to have kittens.”
“Oh.” Another thing his hands weren’t made for. Holding kittens.
As they made their way to the large deck, she quickly pointed out the open fire pit behind a wall of shrubs that needed trimming, the tennis court in the distance that had ivy growing up the surrounding chain-link fence, and the horse ring overgrown with grass now that spring was in the air and all the vegetation was coming back to life.
Then she pointed to the wing on the back of the house. “That’s the pool room.”
“Pool room?” Asylum had an indoor pool? He looked closer. Sure enough, through the large windows, he could see the pool’s decking and tiled walls, as well as a winding water slide.
“We have two swimming pools. A larger one for the older kids, and a smaller kiddie pool for the younger ones. We have pool parties once a month. The kids love them.” She gestured toward the windows as she continued on toward the house. “The windows open outward, and the ceiling retracts, too, which the kids love in the summer.”
Trace’s gaze traveled down her curves as she took the stairs to the deck. He wouldn’t mind seeing her in a bikini. A black leather bikini that showed off her tattoos. Nope, he wouldn’t mind that one bit.
“I guess you in a bathing suit is one way to scare off would-be suitors,” he said, catching the mouth-watering scent of butter and bacon as she opened the back door.
She stopped and glared over her shoulder at him. “Is it even possible for you to behave?”
“Behaving’s not in my genome, sweetheart.” He winked as he passed in front of her and stepped inside what appeared to be the mud room.