To Fight A Fate (Southern Sanctuary - Book 11)

by Jane Cousins

  Riya’s lips pressed together tightly. Pulling harder. She would not let go. The man was still hurting and clearly concussed. And continuing to ramble. He probably had no idea what he was saying. So it would be pointless to engage him in a discussion. Besides, she kind of agreed with him. Charming and her? The very idea. They so did not make sense.

  Marcus chuckled under his breath. “Like we could ever work. Woo-woo, I make clothes. I help people decide what skirt to wear to go to the grocery store. Help them make the right choice between milk brands. Clothes of destiny… what a waste.”

  Riya knew it was petty, but she released her hold on Marcus, the sound of his head smacking the hardwood floors for a second time kind of satisfying. And the only reason she didn’t follow up with a good swift kick to his exposed belly was that she was afraid she might break a toe on all that hard muscle. That and her too kind hearted soul. Idiot.

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure if she was referring to herself or not-so Charming sprawled out on the floor.

  Chapter Six

  Growing up with eleven rambunctious brothers, Riya had dealt with a lot of concussions over the years. Since she didn’t have a handy cow bell to clang in Marcus’s ear at ten minute intervals, she settled on the next best thing.

  “What are you doing to me?” Marcus blearily looked around the living room of his apartment. “Why am I tied to this chair?”

  “So you won’t fall off and smack that thick head of yours.”

  Marcus groaned softly. “It feels like I’ve already gone a couple of rounds with the floor. Or did I imagine that?”

  Riya gave him her best innocent look, which involved two carefully choreographed blinks and a half smile. “You must be imagining it. You said there was an explosion, I’m pretty sure you’re suffering from a concussion. And some chemical burns. You should have put something on those immediately, nasty.”

  Marcus frowned. Okay, things were starting to make sense. Yes, there had been a chemical explosion gone wrong when he’d tried to destroy the five chaos rubies earlier this morning. He could still taste burnt metal coating the back of his throat which was now warring with the pungent aroma of lavender and herbs.

  “I found some of Nell’s healing ointment in your bathroom and liberally applied it.”

  Snip. Marcus jerked to the side. “What was that?”

  “Stop squirming. I’m trying to give you a haircut here.”

  “Seriously?” Marcus finally focused on Riya, standing only inches away, looking gorgeous and summery in a red dress. Holding a pair of lethal looking scissors close to his eyes. “Um… why?”

  “Because I couldn’t just sit still waiting for you to heal, and your hair was driving me bonkers.” She ran a comb through the thick mass, lifting a lock up and cutting off half an inch.

  Marcus jerked his head away. “Do you have any idea what you are doing?”

  “Yes, now keep still.”

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “Goddess, we’ve discussed those control issues of yours before, haven’t we? Just sit there and let me do all the heavy lifting.”

  Marcus glanced down at the small towel draped over his shoulders and the big silk navy bow in the middle of chest, tying him to the chair. Riya had obviously grabbed the tie from his robe while she was in his bathroom. It would be a simple matter to pull the bow undone and get up… but for some reason he wasn’t moving. “I should get back to work.”

  “Not in your current condition. You need some serious healing time and a good night’s sleep… once your concussion has cleared up. So, you want to tell me about this explosion you got caught up in?”

  “I’ve been trying to find a way to destroy the rubies that Eli and Rafe stole. Sek and Mot need them to restore their father’s chaos mojo, so they can in turn betray him, suck it all down, and reign in Apep’s place as the Gods of Chaos.”

  Snip. Riya leant in, running the comb through Marcus’s thick hair. Snip. “And you’ve been working on this project for what… six months now?”

  “Closer to seven.” Marcus grit out. He despised admitting to failure but it wasn’t like it was a big secret or anything.

  “Seven months?” Riya hummed under her breath, working her way around to the base of his neck. “You must be getting increasingly… creative?”

  Marcus chuffed a laugh. “You can use the word frustrated, and I am. The recipe for rocket fuel I put together this morning should have been effective. But the damn fire ruby just soaked it all up and then decided to spit it all back out again.”

  “Sounds dangerous. Rocket fuel?”

  “What a waste of time. Two days setting up layers upon layers of shell companies just so I can order the damn chemicals and… boom, all that effort gone up in smoke.”

  Riya thumped Marcus on the shoulder. “You’re an idiot. You could have died this morning. You were lucky to walk away with chemical burns, bruises and a concussion. I bet if you’d been human you’d be dead.”

  “But I’m not human, I wasn’t seriously hurt.” Marcus was weirdly enjoying Riya standing so close to him. Feeling her breath sweep across his skin as she leaned in to comb and cut his hair. It felt intimate. Just the two of them, here alone in his apartment.

  “You’ve started on the slippery slope though; I’ve seen it with my brothers. That combination of frustration and out of the box creativity. Always aiming for the bigger bang. The hottest ignition point.”

  “Your brothers are scientists?”

  Riya chuffed a derisive laugh. “Entertainers.”

  “Aahhhh.”

  “Oh, I can practically feel the judgement oozing off of you, Charming. You have a problem with what my brothers do for a living?”

  “No, not at all.”

  Riya combed out some more of his thick, glossy, midnight hair, snip, snip. “That’s so unlike you not to have an opinion.”

  “You are holding a lethal weapon rather close to my eyes.” Marcus pointed out.

  Riya ducked to the side, leaning over, flashing him an evil smile. “Eyes? Don’t be foolish, you’d protect those, I’d go through the ear. One quick stab.”

  “That’s very reassuring.” And weirdly hot.

  “Come on Mr Bigshot-Reality-TV star, you know you want to share your thoughts.”

  Marcus couldn’t help but laugh. He’d momentarily forgotten about his own cover. “I suppose it would be hypocritical of me to sit in judgement.”

  “Yes it would. And the fact that you realise that means that there is some hope for you yet.”

  Riya made one last little snip and stepped back to survey her work. She was good. And damn, if possible, Charming looked even hotter. He was totally rocking the sleek short executive look she’d given him. There was no barrier now to hide those stunning dark ocean blue eyes. Or detract from that strong jaw or those sensual lips. Crap, she should have left well enough alone.

  “Problem?” It had been a long time between snips.

  “Not at all, in fact, I’m done.” Riya whipped the towel off Marcus’s shoulders with a flourish. “I can fetch a mirror if you’d like?”

  “I’m sure it’s fine. Thanks.” Marcus reached up, easily pulling undone the bow, releasing himself. “I should get back to work.”

  “Hey. No way.” Riya placed her hands on Marcus’s shoulders, preventing him from getting up. “You are not going anywhere, except to bed.”

  “Bed?” Marcus shot her a questioning look. Something about that word. Something about having Riya so close. Touching him. “Hey, I… we… did something happen between us earlier?”

  “Earlier?” Riya would have liked to have let Marcus go and take two, hmmm, better make that ten big steps back. But she’d committed herself to seeing him healed and rested. She would not back away now just because those hypnotic blue eyes were only inches away, suddenly banked with heat and curiosity. She needed to remember how little respect Marcus had for her, for her magic. “Nothing happened between us.”

>   Marcus looked across the room. “I vaguely remember being on the floor.”

  “Oh, that. You fell down. Stumbled over your own feet you were so out of it.”

  Marcus hesitated, with little effort he could easily dislodge her hold, but Riya was practically sitting in his lap, he’d be a fool not to enjoy the moment. “I really do need to get back to work. Write up the results from this morning’s little experiment. Check if anything has come through on the Sek and Mot hunt.” Damn, Riya smelled good.

  “When’s the last time you slept? Eight solid hours?”

  “I don’t really need all that much sleep.”

  “Which is not answering my question. When?”

  Marcus shrugged carefully, so as not to dislodge those slender feminine hands. “I don’t remember. But like I said, I don’t need much down time.” And he didn’t want to admit that lately, when he did sleep, his dreams were chaotic and disturbing. Leaving him feeling more tired than before he’d gone to bed.

  “And eaten? Something substantial and took the time to savour and enjoy it?”

  Marcus shook his head, coming up blank.

  “I’ve said it before and no doubt I’ll say it again, you’re an idiot.”

  “Now who’s being judgemental?”

  “You love quoting all those scientific studies, what do they say about the ill-effects of not getting enough REM sleep and having a healthy diet?” Riya didn’t wait for Marcus’s response, reaching out and cuffing him lightly up the side of the head. “Idiot.”

  Marcus should have pushed Riya away, marched her out of his apartment and headed for his office to get back to work. But damn it, she’d just cuffed him up the side of the head, and he found that amusing as hell. And he kind of liked the look of concern that filled those hazel green eyes of hers. Concern? For him? When was the last time any woman had taken the time or cared enough to bully him into putting his well-being first?

  “I…” Marcus frowned and looked down and then up to find Riya gifting him with a grin of pure satisfaction. Desire clenched his gut. “How did you manage that?” He glanced back down at his wrists that were now securely tied together by the navy silk belt. The effect was only marginally spoiled by yet another big bow.

  “Come on.” Riya grabbed Marcus’s bound wrists and tugged. “I’m making you something to eat. And after, if you are very clever and can say the alphabet backwards, proving you are concussion free, then I am putting you to bed.”

  Another bolt of desire shot through Marcus’s gut, targeting his cock. Perplexed, he found himself letting Riya pull him to his feet, following her as she led the way to his state of the art kitchen, set against the far wall in his open planned apartment.

  “Do you always tie up men to get your own way?” He queried, missing Riya’s touch the moment she let go of him, pushing him down on to a bar stool. Relaxing back, he watched as she rounded the kitchen island and began exploring the contents of his pantry and refrigerator.

  Riya grabbed the items she wanted, laying them down on the island bench. Marcus’s kitchen was very well stocked, though the contents could be considered a little eclectic. The man was obviously a fiend for jello, if the large tub of it in the fridge was any indicator.

  “Well?” Marcus watched as Riya flicked on the gas burners, placing a skillet over one and a wire rack over the other.

  “Hmmm? Oh, the tying up thing? Of course. Read any women’s magazine, it’s like number three on the top five recommended ways to control the wayward man in your life.” Riya smiled, grabbing some glasses, filling them with mineral water before chopping a lime in two and squeezing in the juice. “Here, let’s start on re-hydrating you.”

  “Thanks.” Marcus took the glass, his hands still bound, and drank down half the contents. Refreshing. Clearing away the lingering burnt metal taste that had been coating the back of his throat instantly. “What are the other four ways, just out of interest?”

  Riya placed an eggplant and a bright red bell-pepper on the wire rack, using a pair of tongs to position them better over the high flame of the burner. “Oh, you know, just the usual kind of stuff that any woman has in her bag of tricks. Lingerie. Positive and negative training techniques. Subliminal messaging. Sex. You know, same old, same old.”

  “Sounds like women’s magazines have come a long way from the Ladies Home Journal, and twenty smart recipes to stretch ground beef.”

  Riya laughed, placing two chicken fillets between some baking paper, she picked up a rolling pin and began whacking them until they were flat. “Definitely things have changed. Today’s article would more likely be something along the lines of, twenty ways to please the beefcake in your life.”

  “And he didn’t come back into your life?”

  Riya looked up from where she was slicing lemons. “Who?”

  “Your wayward man, or beefcake, or whatever you call him. Mr nameless? The father of your child?”

  “Oh, him.” Riya turned, adding the chicken to the sizzling skillet, squeezing lemon over each piece and watching the liquid bubble. “No, he hasn’t turned up… yet.”

  “You’re still holding out hope?” Every muscle in Marcus’s body locked as a red haze descended. His gut roiling. It was the injustice, he told himself. Riya should not be left alone with the burden of raising a child as a single mom.

  “You know me, I’m a big believer in Fate. He’ll be along sooner or later.”

  Marcus shook his head. Unable to believe that a smart, gorgeous woman like Riya was still holding out hope that her spineless, shifty asshole sperm donor ex would come waltzing back into her life and they would live happily ever after.

  Riya grabbed the tongs and turned the eggplant and bell-pepper before returning her attention to the chopping board she’d placed on the kitchen island. Grabbing a cucumber, she began slicing.

  Marcus was pissed. Lifting his wrists, he bit down on the end of the silk belt and pulled, untying himself. “Now who’s the idiot?”

  Riya’s gaze shot up hearing Marcus’s terse tone. “Excuse me?”

  “You can’t seriously think that your asshole ex will just suddenly one day wake up and realise that he should do the right thing and be financially and personally responsible in helping to raise his child? You know, my offer still stands.”

  Riya grabbed a tomato and began quartering it. “Offer?”

  “To hunt him down. Make him do the right thing by you and the kid.” And if that lesson happened to involve his fists, well all the better.

  Riya blinked slowly. “The right thing? You mean you’d force him to marry me?”

  “Hell, no.” Okay, that came out a little harsher than he’d intended. “I wouldn’t want you to tie yourself to a guy who’s already proven he can’t be counted on. I was thinking more about the money. And maybe letting the kid get to know their father. And providing you with a full and complete family history for medical purposes.”

  Riya picked up another tomato and began slicing. “That’s very… kind of you. But I don’t want anyone in my life who doesn’t want to be there.”

  “Probably for the best. You wouldn’t want the kid to know what a loser their Dad is.”

  Riya turned and flipped the chicken over and then checked on the grilling vegetables. “What about you? With the first mini-Elite Warrior about to be born, do you want kids?”

  Marcus shook his head fast. He’d always been ambivalent on the question of children, leaning towards the negative. But he remembered holding the little girl in his arms the other day in the Southern Sanctuary. Feeling her heart beating against his chest. The way she smiled and smoothed his hair back. If you could guarantee a sweetie-pie like that… By The Sands, what was he thinking? How hard had he landed on his head?

  “Kids and me? We don’t really mix.”

  “Vaughn and Hadleigh must be so excited. I’m guessing they’re holed up in their apartment enjoying their final days of peace and quiet before the baby comes.”

  “You haven’t caught up wit
h Hadleigh since you arrived?”

  “No. I texted her, but didn’t get a reply. So I thought I’d leave the happy couple to their nesting, or whatever it is new - about to be parents - do.” Riya scooped up some fresh thyme and sprinkled it on the chicken, turning off the burners.

  “Uh, yeah… about that.”

  Riya deposited the grilled eggplant and bell-pepper onto the chopping board. Grabbing a paper towel, she sloughed off the burnt red flesh of the pepper and then began slicing. “What’s going on? Is there a problem with the baby? Is Hadleigh alright?”

  “The baby and Hadleigh are fine.” Marcus watched as Riya’s shoulders instantly relaxed. “It’s just that Vaughn and Hadleigh are kind of not speaking to one another at the moment.”

  “Excuse me?” Riya absently divided some lettuce and the sliced vegetables between two plates. Topping the salad with some cubes of feta cheese. “What’s wrong with them? What did Hadleigh do?” She loved her cousin but she could be stubborn, bull-headed, and just plain mean sometimes.

  “I think it might be more what Vaughn has done… is doing, that might be the problem.”

  “Oh?” Riya placed the chicken on the plates, picked up a bottle of white balsamic vinegar and splashed a little over each of the salads. “Here.” She slid the plate across the counter to Marcus along with some cutlery. “Eat. And tell me what’s up with Vaughn.”

  Hmm, Marcus took a bite, then a second and a third. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until he began eating. Already his head felt a little clearer. “You have to remember that this is new territory for any of us. A baby? And you know how much Vaughn loves Hadleigh. Between you and me, I think the Captain is scared out of his mind that something will go wrong.”

  “Oh, poor Vaughn.”

  “More like poor Hadleigh. He’s hovering over her twenty-four seven… or trying to. Hadleigh locked herself in the multi-media room about a week ago, in an attempt to save his life. But Vaughn just won’t quit it. He’s always scratching at the door, bringing her glasses of milk and kale salads. Constantly checking up on her. Essentially smothering her with concern.”