Heart of the Warrior

by Donya Lynne

  With a groan, he peeled his face off the leather cushion. It stuck where it made contact with the cowhide, and his mouth felt as if it had been swabbed with cotton then dried with a hair dryer.

  Moan.

  And what bunch of house trolls decided to take up residence inside his head to pound from the inside-out with pick-axes?

  Blinking repeatedly, he looked around the dimly lit basement. His bed on the other side of the large room remained made since he had slept on the couch, and only one lamp was on in the corner where he painted.

  Why was the lamp on? Had he painted last night? He painted when he was upset, stressed, or just needed a break, but he couldn’t remember painting last night, although he had certainly been in the right frame of mind.

  He glanced at the canvas on his easel and his stomach rolled. Ari’s face stared back at him. Okay, so he had painted last night. Funny how he couldn’t remember. He looked at the empty bottle on the floor. Well, maybe not so funny.

  His gaze lifted back to the small canvas of Ari’s perfect face. Even when he was drunk off his gourd, he could paint better than most sober people, but shit, that thing had to get out of his house. Like the ten other portraits of Arion he had painted in the last six weeks, he needed to get rid of it so he didn’t have to look at it day in and day out and be reminded of what he couldn’t have.

  And after last night, it was clear he couldn’t have Ari. Ari had been into that female. Maybe he was plundering her right now. The thought made his stomach turn again, and Sev stumbled his way to the bathroom before he messed up his floor. Not that his stomach contained a lot to upchuck, but still.

  After the coughing and retching stopped, he turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face and neck. Over and over. Splash-splash. The cool moisture felt good. He cupped his hands and caught the running water then lifted it to his mouth. Sucking it in, he swished and swallowed. Aaahh.

  Luckily, as with a cobalt high, hangovers didn’t last long in vampires. By the time Sev downed a pain reliever with a mug of black coffee, showered, and dressed, he was feeling much better. So he whipped up some eggs and toast for breakfast and snarfed it down before calling his mother and inviting her over for a visit, as well as to take Ari’s portrait.

  "Hey, Mom."

  "Hi, Sev. How are you?" His mom's voice sounded concerned. It was amazing how she was able to read his mood so easily.

  "I'm okay. Hung over." He sipped his coffee. "Can you come over for lunch today?"

  He could almost hear her compassionate smile through the phone. "You have more paintings for me, don't you?"

  Sev sighed. "Just a couple." He looked down at his mug of coffee. "But I also thought it'd be nice to get together." Sev needed to talk to his mom. She always kept him grounded, and right now, he needed to be grounded in the worst way. Otherwise, he was going to float away in a hot air balloon of despair.

  "I'll bring a pot of chili."

  Yeah, Mom knew he was hurting. She only brought him chili when he needed comforting. The last time she'd made him homemade chili was when Gabe died.

  "That sounds perfect, Mom. I'll see you in a couple hours."

  "I'll be there. I love you."

  "Love you, too, Mom."

  His mom was the reason he had moved to Chicago. She had come here years ago to open an art gallery. Sev hated being away from her, so when his undercover spec ops gig in Atlanta had come to an abrupt end a year ago, he'd packed up and moved here. Before that, he had fought in the human military Special Forces.

  Sev had been born to be a warrior in one way or another, but under his hard exterior, he possessed an uncanny eye for art, hence his talents with paint and brush. Being that his mom was an artist, he often wondered if his artistic ability had been as much a gift from her as his iron skin had been.

  Of course, then there was the matter of his talents with hand-to-hand combat and weapons. That would have been his dad’s gift to him, right? Yay for Dad. The prick. Sev rolled his eyes.

  After hanging up the phone, he cleaned the kitchen, which he hadn't done in a few days, then started the laundry. Sev had just thrown in his second load when the doorbell rang. He rushed to open it and his mom’s smiling face stared back. She was holding a large pot, and the heavenly smell of chili instantly calmed him.

  "Feelee." It was what he called his mom in public, because calling her mom would have raised eyebrows since she looked younger than he did. With his neighbor out working in the yard next door, Sev didn't take the chance. And being that her name was Felice, Feelee just came naturally.

  "Hi, sweetie." She stepped past him and he shut the door then followed her into the kitchen.

  "Thanks for coming over."

  She smiled at him then opened the fridge and made room for the pot. "I can't turn down my only son's invitation, can I?"

  Sev smiled. "No, I guess not."

  His mom had never had more children, so he knew she loved her time with him as much as he did.

  She shut the fridge, poured a cup of coffee, then turned and leaned back against the counter as she blew over the surface of the hot liquid to cool it. Her eyes scrutinized him. She knew him better than anyone.

  "How are you, son? You look tired."

  He smiled weakly. "I am tired."

  "Why?"

  Sev’s mind flew instantly to Ari and last night at Four Alarm. "Oh, it’s nothing, Mom. I’ll be fine."

  His mom clucked her tongue. "I know that look." She took a deep breath and sighed. "Boy trouble, huh?"

  How did she do that? Know just what was wrong with him like that? There was no hiding his sorrow from her. But wasn’t that why he had invited her over in the first place? So he could talk to someone about what he was feeling? Well, that and to get rid of the two portraits of Arion, because not only did he have last night’s water color, he also had an oil painting of Arion from last week he needed to get rid of.

  "How do I have such bad luck with men, Mom? First Gabriel, and now I’ve fallen for a guy who is clearly into women, not men."

  There had been other males, but Gabriel was the only one besides Ari Sev had considered special. He and Gabe hadn't been biological mates, but Sev had loved Gabe. He had wanted to build a home with Gabe, but shit had fallen apart before they could.

  Gabriel's death still haunted him because he could have stopped it. It would have destroyed years of undercover work, but he could have saved Gabe's life. Everything happened so fast that night, but having a year to think about all the could haves, would haves, and should haves made Sev see about twenty other ways that night could have gone down to keep Gabe alive.

  Sev's fixated commander, Jonas, who had been Gabe's former, partially-mated lover, had let his jealousy and sorrow over Gabe's death throw Sev under the bus. When questions got asked about Sev's employment with Vampire Dreck Affairs, or VDA for short, Jonas had disavowed him, claiming Sev had never been a VDA agent, which made it look like Sev was a traitor working with the drecks to build the cobalt distribution network for the entire United States.

  At least now Sev knew why he had been the only agent sent in to the factory that night. Jonas had known a raid was planned, and from what Sev had pieced together, Jonas had hoped to get rid of Severin. Only he hadn't expected such a large presence of military-grade drecks to show up to guard an outbound shipment. Big mistake. Instead of killing Severin, Jonas had ended up killing the very person he wanted to protect: Gabe.

  "Gabriel wasn’t your fault, honey," his mom said. "You need to stop blaming yourself for that."

  "I know, but I can't help it. I could have done things differently." Sev traced a pattern in the granite countertop with his finger. Gabe had never known that he worked for VDA. Sev hadn't told anyone other than his mom, because his cover was that deep. Maybe he should have told Gabe. At least then Gabe wouldn't have died thinking Sev had betrayed him, and Gabe's sister wouldn't be after his ass right now. It was obvious she had stripped Gabe's memories before he passed.


  His mom tsked. "Sure, and jeopardized your own life and the lives of so many others in the process. You did what you could, Sev. Stop beating yourself up."

  "Yeah, but my commander didn't disavow the others. He disavowed me. So, my life is in jeopardy if someone tracks me down."

  "I'm sure if anyone was going to track you down, they would have come for you by now. Let it go."

  His mom was right. He needed to let it go, but he just couldn't, especially with Gabe's sister out there God-knew-where, because he knew she was and that she was pissed off.

  "So, are you going to show me those paintings or not?" His mom tapped a long, elegant finger against her coffee mug, changing the subject as deftly as she always did when Gabe came up in conversation.

  "Sure, yeah. Come on. They’re downstairs."

  She followed him down the stairs and he clicked on the overhead lights.

  "Oh, that’s lovely." Her eyes fixed on the canvas resting on the easel.

  Sev’s heart broke as he looked at the painting and remembered the night before and Arion kissing that woman. Lucky girl.

  "So, this is who you were talking about, right? This is the one who likes women that you’re in love with?"

  "I’m not in love with him." Sev skulked to the opposite side of the room and crossed his arms as he tried to look casual.

  "Uh-huh." His mom didn’t sound like she believed him. "But this is him?"

  He nodded and looked at the floor, letting his long, blond hair cover his face so she wouldn't see his anguish.

  "Thought so. Not that it was hard to figure out with all the portraits you've been painting of him and handing off to me."

  Sev had a feeling she'd already figured out the four-one-one on the sitch by now. After all, Arion was all he had been painting for weeks. And each painting was as tragic to his heart as the last one. No doubt his mom had figured out a while ago he was fixated on the male.

  He cleared his throat and stepped forward to pull the oil painting away from the wall and set it on an empty easel. "This one, too."

  He averted his gaze uncomfortably from the painting of two men standing together, arms around each other, their foreheads touching. It hurt Sev to look at it. It was a pose he now knew would never become reality.

  "You’ve captured the moment perfectly," she said.

  His mom paced to one side then back, one arm across her torso, the elbow of the other pressed against it as she rested her chin against her thumb and forefinger as if in contemplation. Her eye was all professional, while his only saw the personal component of his work.

  "I can tell you were personally inspired. I can feel the emotion." She leaned toward the oil painting then stood back again. "I feel the love between them, but the dark colors show the pain."

  His mom turned compassionate eyes on him, and she smiled warmly.

  "Don’t look at me like that, Mom."

  "And how am I looking at you?"

  "Like you want to give me a bowl of ice cream as if that will make it all better. But it won’t. It won’t make it all better." He turned away so she wouldn’t see the tears of frustration well in his eyes. "Damn it, Mom! I hate this. I fucking hate this!"

  His mom’s hand touched his shoulder. "I knew it. You love him."

  If only she knew. What was happening between him and Ari – at least on his end – went way beyond mere love. But he wasn't ready to reveal to his mom that he was forming a mating connection to the other male. He didn't want his mom to worry.

  With a quick swipe of his hand, he wiped away a tear and chuffed sarcastically. "Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter if I love him or not, because he doesn’t love me back, okay. So, I just need you to take those paintings out of here so I don’t have to look at him every day."

  "You know I will, Severin."

  They stood silently for a moment then his mom said, "Have you told him how you feel?"

  He frowned with contempt. "No, but he should know."

  "Why is that?"

  "Because I kissed him, and, well…" Sev chuffed again, not wanting to go into all the details about the other stuff they had done. "And he kissed me back, but it was obviously just homo-curiosity, because it’s clear he isn’t interested in me like that."

  His mom pulled back and stepped around to look at him. "When did this happen?"

  "Over a month ago."

  "Okay, and then what?"

  "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He hasn’t brought it up again, and we’ve hardly said two words to each other."

  "You work with him?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, maybe he’s afraid this will affect your work. You say he hasn’t brought it up since you two kissed. Well, have you?"

  Sev shook his head. "No."

  His mom tsked. "Well, for Pete’s sake, Sev, why not? Maybe he’s just waiting for you to make a move?"

  "Doubt it."

  "Oh, and it’s better to just be miserable than to actually take a chance at happiness? I see."

  "Huh?" Sev frowned at her. What exactly was she saying?

  "Well, it sounds to me like both of you are waiting for the other to make a move and neither one of you has the damn balls to do it. How about you try actually talking to him about how you feel, Knucklehead?"

  His mom had a way of making him feel like such an idiot sometimes, but he couldn’t fault her for it. She was usually right, even when he didn’t want to admit it.

  "What’s the point? I already know how he feels. He was lip-locked to a woman last night at some club we all went to after our shift."

  "Oh, and that automatically means your time together didn’t mean anything to him?"

  Sev scowled. "Well, what else would it mean?"

  She shook her head and turned back toward the portraits and grabbed one in each hand. "Children. No matter how old they are, or what generation, they all act the same when it comes to love."

  "Oh? And how do they act?" Sev huffed at her as he crossed his arms.

  "Like idiots without brains," she said, squaring him up.

  With a guilty frown, he took one of the paintings from her and followed her back upstairs and set the painting in the hall by the front door. Was she right? Was he acting like an idiot? Could Ari just be waiting for him to make a move? The thought of talking to Ari right now made his stomach squirm like a squeamish medical student watching his first surgery, but maybe that's exactly what he needed to do: Talk to Ari.

  As long as he didn't do most of the talking with his fists. Uh-huh.

  After setting the paintings in the front hall, his mom turned and walked to the fridge. "Come on, let's have lunch."

  Seemed the conversation about Arion was over, at least for now.

  They returned to the kitchen and he pulled the pot of chili from the fridge and set it on the stove to heat while he worked on a salad. His mom sat down at the table.

  "Have you ever thought of doing a showing, Sev? I’d love to feature your work in the gallery. It’s so unique and full of emotion. Better than the work I get from humans."

  "That’s not how I paint. You know that," Sev said.

  "Maybe you should. You know, give the wars and fighting a rest and take some time off. Maybe you could use it to take your mind off this guy you’re swooning over."

  Sev looked back at the paintings in the hall and felt his heart wrench like two fists gripped and twisted it in opposite directions, wringing it like a wet towel. Time wouldn't help him deal with Arion. It would only make things worse by giving him too much freedom to dwell.

  "You know I can’t. I just started at AKM." His gaze drew away and he habitually scanned the room, noting that the door and windows were locked before he scanned the back yard.

  If a team of drecks showed up, what would I do? Would I see the danger in time to protect myself? Could I protect my mom?

  This was how his mind worked. It didn’t matter if he was home, at AKM, shopping for groceries, or on patrol. He planned for the worst, always preparing, always ensuring he had
an escape plan in case of attack.

  And it wasn’t just drecks he watched out for. About half-a-dozen military organizations around the world would have loved his head on a stake. And he was sure Gabe's sister would love his skull in her trophy case. She had been out for his blood the last time he saw her.

  "Yes, you can. You just have to choose." His mom pulled him from his thoughts and sighed. "You’ve been fighting wars for so long, do you even know how to live freely, anymore?"

  "I live freely."

  "No you don’t. You live waiting for the next attack, always looking over your shoulder. Even now you glance around your own home like it’s booby-trapped and someone will jump out from behind the bushes in the backyard. You. Can’t. Relax. Severin."

  Sev felt himself blush, realizing she had caught him casing his own home like a battle planner. "This is just how I’m wired, Mom."

  "Maybe it’s time you hired an electrician and got yourself re-wired." She stood and helped herself to a glass of water. "Maybe he can re-wire you."

  "Who?"

  She nodded toward the paintings.

  Sev shook his head. "He’s a figment of my imagination, Mom."

  "Bullshit. You make him a figment by not talking to him about how you feel."

  "It’s not that easy. Besides, it’s Dad’s fault I’m the way I am. Thank him for giving me his warrior blood." At least he knew he and his mom agreed with just how big of an asshole his dad was.

  His mom walked uneasily back to the table and sat down.

  "About your dad," she said.

  Sev’s skin prickled and he looked at her. Her gaze flicked warily to his.

  "What about him?" he said.

  "He contacted me again."

  "When?" Sev didn’t like this. His father had been trying to get in touch with his mom for over ten years now.

  "Last Tuesday."

  "And?"

  His mom hesitated and took a deep breath, held it, then blew it out. "Sev, I agreed to see him."

  Sev’s hands clenched into fists. "Why?"

  "He’s changed, Severin. Somewhere along the way, your father developed a conscience and he wants to see me to set things right. And he wants to see you, too."