No one knew who they were or what their talisman was, nor how dangerous they truly were. But they were still out there and Rysa just dragged those memories to the surface. Emotions puked from the bottom of Daisy’s brain and made her body want to puke, too.
Aiden poisoned her. He stole her money and took advantage and if her dog hadn’t brought her father and the dragons, he would have murdered her, too.
Maybe he’d had a hand in Rysa’s torment as well.
So Daisy shouldn’t be acting this way. She shouldn’t freeze up and pull away and do what she did out front. No matter how old Ladon was, or what he’d experienced in his life, Daisy probably understood what Rysa went through better than he did.
But…
Ladon rounded the corner of the house. Gavin must have told him about Rysa.
“She’s in the garage.” Daisy pointed. “I sent in the boys, figuring she needed breathing room from people.”
Ladon made the strange faraway “talking to my dragon” face she’d seen from both him and his sister. Unlike some of the other Shifters at The Land, she’d never been frightened by it. The look reminded her of someone concentrating too hard on listening to a cell phone conversation. But unlike a mere normal, Ladon and AnnaBelinda never tripped over their own feet or ran into a table while listening to their beasts talk.
Hinges squeaked and the side entry to the garage swung open. Brother-Dragon must be making his way inside.
Ladon stood about ten feet away in a shadow that consumed his black jacket and jeans. His face and fists floated in the gloom, a full complement of big brother body parts that could—and would—rip the heads off the three scary fucks who hurt her.
And the head clean off that morpher, Vivicus, if the son of a bitch were still alive.
“Make sure she’s okay.” Daisy nodded toward the garage. Gavin had told her about Rysa’s ADHD and the anxiety that went along with it. How she did a pretty good job of keeping it under control in normal circumstances.
But Vivicus wasn’t normal in anyone’s world. Ladon and Dragon were probably the only people Rysa wanted to see right now.
Ladon nodded yes but the tension visible in his shoulders and back didn’t loosen. “Thank you,” he said.
Both her dogs bounded out of the garage door, tongues lolling and tails wagging. They circled Ladon, stopping only when he rubbed their heads.
It took her German shepherds to loosen the tension obvious in his shoulders and back. He breathed a little easier and his scent calmed, shifting away from angry and the piercing, icy emotion that, to her, smelled like righteous observance.
Every living creature made non-calling-scent smells. They hung in the air like a landscape of olfactory textures. Some, like the scents of just-opened flowers or well-watered grasses, formed a tent over a natural area. Her yard had a smell fence and a smell roof, the inside of which she called home.
It gave her a sense of place and safety. And, now, she wanted to extend that sense to the man she thought of as her brother and to the young woman who, because of the time Daisy had spent nine years ago with Rysa’s father, felt like a long-lost half-sister.
Ladon patted the dogs once more before directing them toward Daisy. They walked over, both sniffing along the ground as if hunting for scent trails left by bugs and ghosts.
Ladon glanced at her one last time, his face flat, and turned toward the garage. He walked silently, as was his way. The golden glow of his skin picked up the evening’s final rays but the controlled tendrils of hair on his semi-shaved head mixed into the flittering shadows thrown by the neighbor’s big oak tree.
When he pushed open the door, he didn’t look back. Ladon never looked back. But, she knew, he never felt free of the whispering shades and wispy, clouding smells that followed him everywhere.
Chapter Nine
The door slammed behind Gavin, loud and vibrating and as unhappy as he felt. Outside, Ladon stomped toward the back of the house. In the kitchen, Daisy slammed cabinet doors.
Behind him, the television hissed, on but not set to an input.
Gavin turned off the porch light, figuring a parade of trick-or-treaters probably wouldn’t help matters, nor did he feel like putting on his costume. Dressing like a wizard right now seemed stupid.
He hadn’t expected a full-blown anxiety fest from Rysa—or, if he was honest with himself, the full-blown badass response from Ladon. Which was dumb. He’d had his feet in their world long enough, and had dealt with Daisy’s father enough times, to understand that they were more… barbaric about life? More… extreme? Old school, perhaps, as in ancient world old. But hearing Ladon toss out an “I’m surprised he didn’t gut you” in a tone that said he literally expected Gavin and Daisy to have been gutted had been… frightening.
Rysa told him that being inside the energy between Ladon and Dragon helped her control the worst of her issues by calming the randomness and the hyperactivity. But how could they help her if they reacted to every possible threat with a battle posture? To Gavin, they looked as if Ladon was about to smite anyone who dared breathe in Rysa’s general direction.
Perhaps the “whine” of all the cell phones in the area, and the hints of the neighbor’s wifi routers that leaked into the house, were worse than they let on. Maybe the noise caused pain closer to a migraine than a headache, but Gavin didn’t think so. Perhaps they were all tired. Or, perhaps, what he and Daisy just witnessed was indicative of much deeper problems.
Gavin walked through the shadows toward the bright patch of light flowing through the door between the kitchen and the hallway. The fixtures cast a warm glow throughout the entire room but they stripped the space of a lot of its nuance. One could not hide in a kitchen lit like the bridge of a spaceship.
Daisy didn’t turn around when he walked in. A hand-washed bowl clanked into the drying rack by the sink and soapy bubbles ran down its edge. “They went through a worse hell than we did.”
Her words had become a sort of mantra over the past three months as if one person’s bad shit could win the bad shit blue ribbon and suddenly invalidated everyone else’s problems.
Gavin had seen enough bad shit in his life to recognize it for what it was. “Are you okay?”
Her fingers swiped a towel off the counter as she turned around. She wrapped the fabric around her hands and it bunched up, a tight wad between her fists. “I’m fine.”
But her eyelids fluttered when she said it, and the corners of her mouth pulled down.
Seeing Rysa upset made Gavin’s upper body tighten the same way it always did—fear for his friend contracted his chest muscles while annoyance that it was happening again tightened his back. Seeing the burst of anger from a guy he’d known for two months and who, according to both Rysa and Daisy, was a good man, made his throat tighten with surprise. But seeing Daisy upset trumped it all.
Every fiber of his being wanted to push away Rysa and Ladon—and his new, fascinating friend Dragon—and scoop Daisy into his arms. She didn’t need this. She’d done so much for everyone and the deep parts of his brain did not want her punished for it.
Gavin walked around the island. Radar and Ragnar sat attentively next to Daisy’s legs, both alert and both looking as perplexed as Gavin felt. “What do you need?” He waved at the back door. “Do you need me to talk to Rysa? Establish new ground rules? Ask if they will house hunt again? Because I will, Daisy. You don’t need to take on everything yourself.”
Her brows pulled together and her mouth opened and closed. Then she shook her head and smiled. “And they say chivalry is dead.”
An unwanted, nervous chuckle worked out of his throat. Did he just offend her with his offer to help? How stupid could he be?
“Hey.” She touched his forearm. Lightly, but her fingers stroked his skin. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Pulling his attention from the warm tickle of her caress took effort. “I will do anything for you.” He didn’t mean for his words to pour out in a rushed stream. Or to speak in a
way that would put her in a new, tighter spot than the one her house guests just thrust her into.
They were friends and she’d made it clear that friends would be how they stayed. So they were only friends. Because he’d rather be her friend than completely lose her from his life. “I didn’t mean to—”
Daisy stepped close and wrapped her arms around his waist, but she stopped just shy of pressing her front against his. “I’m a bloodhound enthraller, Dr. Bower. I smell exactly what you meant.”
“Um…” He didn’t move. Didn’t pull her into a tight embrace and lay the kiss on her lips that he’d wanted to give her since that first moment when she saved him from the Burners. Because they were friends.
Slowly, gently, Daisy laid her head on his shoulder.
Every moment that he’d wanted to touch her over the last five months—every desire to wrap his arm around her shoulders as they talked about her work at the Small Animal Clinic on campus, or to squeeze her fingers when she tensed while talking about his final year of undergraduate study, or to offer a hug when she talked about her plans to move back to Branson and take over her father’s animal operations, or…
Or the silly desire to kiss her cheek when she made scrambled eggs. Or his desires to touch her hip when they talked about the boys’ preferred dog food. Or how he wanted to swing her into a dip when they talked about their favorite movies and how she didn’t like going dancing because of all the smelly horny people. He’d take her dancing in her living room, if she wanted.
All his desires to be close flooded in on the back of profound confusion.
She glanced up, her body stiffening, and she inched back. “Will you stick around tonight? After we have them settled? So we can talk?”
He wanted to curl his arms tight around her waist and not let go. To kiss away her agitation and experience what he suspected would be the deeply satisfying taste of her lips. But the back door opened.
Chapter Ten
Ladon pushed open the side garage door. Rysa had turned on all the lights and the brightness of the space made the lines of the van and the tools on the walls stand out in high contrast. Daisy had cleaned the space before they arrived, shoving lawn chairs, a mower, and several bikes against the side-door wall to make room for his van. Her sedan sat outside now, under what looked like a newly-constructed overhang, in the accessible open.
Inside, though, the building barely held his van. The vehicle’s nose pressed against the front wall and when he closed the door, he needed to turn to the side to walk around the back. The top had no more than a foot of clearance between the handholds circling the roof of his van and the drive of the garage door opener.
Yet, somehow, Rysa had managed to climb on top of the van, as had Dragon.
The beast flattened himself to fit between the ceiling, the roof, and the door mechanism, and looked extraordinarily uncomfortable. “Beloved?” Ladon called. “I have your talisman.” Is she okay? he pushed to Dragon.
The dogs demanded petting and I believe they distracted her. She climbed after Daisy called them. Dragon snorted again. I am uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to stay with me, you know.” Rysa’s voice echoed through the closed-in space. “It’s hot up here.”
The light bulbs are bright but they are the new kind that do not give off heat. Yet another uncomfortable snort rolled out of the beast and he shifted as much as he could in the confined space. I am fine.
Ladon wiggled between the back of the van and the door. I thought you were uncomfortable.
The beast shimmied around and his head appeared on the other side of the van. I will not leave Rysa.
Neither would Ladon.
He held out her talisman. She frowned again but snatched it off his hand. Carefully, she pulled the cord over her head. “Thank you.”
“Why did you leave it?”
She looked up at the too-close ceiling. “Sometimes I don’t want to be a Fate.” Then she shook her hand and looked away, her signal that she no longer wished to talk about it.
Sometimes she didn’t want to be a healer, either. Sometimes, he saw her fatigue in the slump of her shoulders when she offered him a calming healing. But she never pushed him away and she never spoke of it. She continued to wrap her hands around his temples and lay kisses on his forehead, and he continued to pull her close.
What she offered far outstripped his contribution to their relationship. The least he could do was be the good, vigilant husband she needed.
Ladon rubbed her calf. She had the most spectacular legs—long, smooth, and strong, like the rest of her. After Vivicus’s attack and her healer found her balance, her body didn’t lose her graceful sweeps and arches. If anything, she became curvier. Her calves became stronger and rounder. The muscles of her hips and buttocks thickened and grew tighter, accentuating the already glorious sweep of her waist. Her chest muscles tightened also, and pulled her breasts higher. Her shoulders strengthened, as did her arms, and she now enjoyed strenuous sex.
Long nights of intense lovemaking made him feel as wanted and as steady as he knew the time between him and the beast made her feel.
And, maybe, as safe. His beautiful beloved used her seers and looked at the world, and decided that it was safe for them to ignore, at least for a few hours, everything and everyone else.
He could use a little safety right now.
Rysa smirked and looked up at the ceiling. “Are you going to be like this fifty years from now?”
He danced his fingers over her leg and delicately stroked the pressure point on the inside of her knee. The one that made her eyes widen and a moan ride out on her breath.
She didn’t disappoint.
“Like what?” Slowly, he massaged her inner thigh.
“This distracting.”
Ladon chuckled. The inflamed, horrific thoughts Vivicus ignited flickered down to embers and a new, more favored warmth spread throughout his body. But it didn’t replace his need to make sure a fight wasn’t on the horizon. “Did you look?”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t see him in the present or future. He’s still as dead and gone as he was after he stole my talisman.”
So they were at the same level of safety they’d been at ever since leaving Portland five months ago: Clear of present danger but with no knowledge of a planned future attack.
Dmitri had sent Ladon photos of Vivicus’s burned corpse and documents demonstrating how the teeth matched the records they’d made after his capture. Not a single Fate in Praesagio’s network saw any indication that he survived. Everyone was certain that this time, he really was dead.
Dragon rubbed his neck against Rysa’s side. Please tell Rysa I wish to go in, he pushed. The beast didn’t have room to sign his frustration.
“He wants to go in.” Ladon moved his hand higher along her inner thigh. He wanted to go in, too.
Rysa looked down from her perch, her face contemplative. “I freaked out Daisy.”
Ladon shook his head. “Daisy’s fine.” Though he didn’t think she was. “She’s not kicking us out. She told me to get some rest.”
Rysa nodded.
“Are you okay now?”
She sighed. “Before we came here, we were pretty much alone.” She glanced over her shoulder when Dragon flowed off the van and through the open side door of the garage. “No freaks bothering us. No attacks. Just you, me, and our wonderful beast living in a magical cave in the mountains.”
She smirked again. “Even our trip to Portland to see my parents and to check in at Praesagio was mostly controlled. And when Anna and Derek came home with us, they left us alone.”
Sister and Derek seemed more interested in exploring Derek’s newly enhanced strength and connection to the dragons than in poking around in his and Rysa’s lives, except for wedding planning. Though Derek did ask Ladon an unending stream of questions about Sister’s also newly acquired rumbling and how best to take advantage of her increased desire for sex.
There’d been a lo
t of lovemaking going on in the cave the last few weeks before they left for Minnesota.
“I don’t think either of us was ready to be dropped back into the real world.” Sadness returned to Rysa’s face.
“We will deal with it.” They’d all deal with it.
“Yeah.” Rysa looked at the house. “Let’s go in.”
When the beast flowed through the back door, he pushed an image into Rysa’s head: Gavin holding out a tablet computer while he pointed at the big television in the living room. The image was followed by a very clear pang of a type of indignation Rysa could only call But I have a new friend!
How many times in her life had this exact thing happened? How many times had she scared off new friends because she was a goddamned spaz?
Ladon nuzzled her temple as he held open the door. “Daisy is not going to kick us out.”
He sounded confident. But then Ladon always sounded confident, even when he felt as if the world around him was about to implode into a writhing, stinking Burner mass. Then explode so violently it left only a smoldering crater behind.
Ragnar bounded into the mudroom, his claws tapping on the tile and his doggy butt as hyperactive as Rysa felt. He sniffed at Ladon’s hand and sat on his foot.
“Hey, boy,” Ladon said, and rubbed Ragnar’s head.
The dogs weren’t afraid, not of the world and not of Ladon, either. Having Ragnar happily ask for affection seemed to calm him.
Rysa took his hand. He watched her for a long moment, his gorgeous, gold-flecked eyes reflecting the bright lights of Daisy’s kitchen. “Can we go upstairs?”
Ladon nodded, and together they walked into the kitchen.
Dragon was signing with Gavin and Daisy. The patterns on his back darkened and sped up, changing from the glimmering green-golds he usually showed to cooler, earthier green-browns. The shapes rounded off as well, shifting in waves to a pattern that looked more like leaves in a breeze.
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