by Lisa Ladew
She decided right then to go out with the next man who showed interest in her. She would NOT rummage through his mind, his thoughts of himself and his being, just so that she could judge him. She would smile and nod and say she would love to, then act like a normal person and let him have a chance, see who his actions said he was. Now that she’d left Serenity once, maybe she could convince someone to take her out to the abandoned amusement park outside of the town limits. She had been dying to go for years, but not by herself.
She tingled with excitement, as her new state of mind brought certain knowing to her. Something big was coming. This was her time. For now, she only needed to put one foot in front of the other. Go about her day. Let whatever was coming, come.
A thought stopped her cold as she walked past the large fridge where they stored flour bags big enough to stack and play on. What if her angel had already come for her and found her lacking? What if the game she played was the wrong one, her judgment all a fallacy?
Willow shook her head. It didn’t feel right, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t so. Nothing had felt completely right since her twenty-fifth birthday, her boring birthday that had passed without incident or mention.
Ah, but things were feeling right again. Ever since she’d made that decision at the crossroads. The one to live. To stop waiting. That had felt right, did feel right. This evening, after the restaurant closed, she would head back out over the town line. Maybe drive all the way to the next city. She’d heard Spring Valley was small, backwards, but what did that matter? She’d never been anywhere, never seen anything. She would look at it with innocent eyes and make her own decisions.
Willow let the thread of her thoughts go as the smell of breakfast muffins and pancake mix greeted her in the warm and familiar kitchen of the Honey Depot. She smiled and greeted the two employees who were already there, then moved through the kitchen to the dining area beyond, aware again in the front room of the restaurant of the sound of that revving engine swelling close, then cutting off. Someone in her parking lot, but she didn’t give it much thought. She had men on the brain. Next man she saw, she would do it. Men liked if you asked them out, right? She would make something happen, prime fate’s pump, starting today.
She smiled at her thoughts and headed for the front door and out of it to check the mailbox, but a man was walking up the steps, his steps sure, his emotions ablaze.
He was a tall man, but rangy. A businessman wearing a dark suit and a hat she didn’t even know the name of because she’d never seen someone wear one before unless it was on the TV. It was like a hat Cary Grant would wear in some black and white film. The man’s silver hair spilled out to his shoulders from both sides of the hat, somehow looking more manly than a buzz-cut would have, his wide silver moustache and dark brows catching her eye. And when he spoke? He might have been old enough to be her father, but that deep voice still caught her female attention, reminding her so quickly of her promise to herself.
“Good morning, Miss, I was hoping you could help me.”
Miss? Who called a woman Miss, anymore? Willow stopped on her way down the stairs as he stopped on his way up, rummaging in his business satchel using one hand, but seeming unable to look away from her.
Willow fluttered a hand to her breast, trying to catch her suddenly racing heart. Something about him was wrong and right at the same time, and she couldn’t quite tell what it was. She didn’t need to block him, because his energy was up and he was blocking her, something she hadn’t known was possible. His block was like an invisible wall between the two of them. His emotions and thoughts leaked around the sides of the wall, because that’s what energy did, travel, but it was so far away from her she couldn’t catch anything before it dissipated. “Yes?” she asked politely, on autopilot, her brown eyes held spellbound by his hazel ones, as he fumbled with his bag.
He smiled at her, and some of his block shifted. She felt a yearning from him, and an absolute confliction that threatened to tear him in half. She’d been starting to wonder if he could possibly be her ‘angel’, the one who was supposed to come for her, but he was so much older than she’d thought, and what angel was conflicted about anything? No, he couldn’t be. He was definitely something special, though. Something different than… than what? She didn’t know.
He finally pulled the folder he wanted out of his bag and held it in one hand, while he held out the other to her. “My name is Soroush Blakely, and I am looking for someone important to me.”
His every word was a lie, and she did not know how to react, because even though he was lying, he held no ill intent toward her or toward whoever he was looking for. In fact, he meant to protect the one he sought. That emotion was so strong it pulsed straight at her, straight through his own block.
She nodded expectantly, using the moment to study him, to pull in more thoughts and feelings, anything she could get that was attached to the thought about who he was searching for. Which was quite a lot. Side roads and in roads and loop de loops swirled behind the emotion and she grabbed a few. She was given this empathic ability for a reason and she had to stop shunning it and trying not to use it. Refusing to use her ability made as much sense as being able to sing a sweet soprano, but instead refusing to speak at all.
After only a second of digging through his thoughts, she knew his name was not Soroush Blakely, and he did not know why he had chosen it for whatever scam he was running. His cover story was supposed to be that he was a private investigator doing work for the woman’s mother, who happened to also be a close friend of his. His plan was to flash a fake badge and a picture and find out if anyone here knew where she might be staying, but he was having doubts.
She very clearly caught that he didn’t want to lie to Willow, because he thought she was beautiful and worthy of a gentleman’s truth.
Willow rocked back on her heels at that thought, seeing him see her catch it. He frowned and his hand slipped, showing her the picture in the folder he held. A dirty blonde beauty with a sharp expression, seen from far away. Willow recognized the woman, but her mind couldn’t place from where.
She wanted to see more, but Soroush hastily shoved the folder back into his bag. “Forgive me,” he said. “I don’t mean to stare, but you’re just so…” He faltered and Willow blushed. He spoke again. “Have we met before?”
“No,” she said quickly. She would have remembered him. Another emotion snuck into her consciousness. Sorrow. Regret. He wanted to apologize for something. He wanted to make something right.
He nodded like he knew it, then smiled sheepishly, as if to say he was about to do something stupid, and would she please forgive him in advance. “I feel like we ought to know each other. I mean, what I’m trying to say is would you do me the extreme pleasure of letting me take you out sometime? Tonight even? You look fascinating, with your fresh fashion and your timeless smile. I would like to get to know you.”
Willow almost gasped. No one had ever said anything quite so complicated and complimentary to her before. She loved her clothing, always took great care to pick the flowy, flowery skirts and the simple peasant blouses, which she sometimes paired with work boots and a bohemian hat. Capris that were supposed to hit mid calf on most women stopped at her ankles, but that was never a problem with a skirt like it was with pants. Her mother tended towards jeans she would roll up at the bottom, but Willow never dressed in anything but a sun skirt. The one she was currently wearing was tan and white, with swirly dark butterflies alighting on shadow flowers at the bottom. One of her favorites, she usually paired it with a black shirt and a bright, chunky necklace, sometimes teal, sometimes silver. She looked down. Teal today.
Before she could think about it, she agreed. “Yes. But not tonight. I never date on weekdays.” What was she talking about? She never dated at all. Where had that even come from? Was she trying to give herself time to reconsider her decision?
“Friday at five? I could pick you up here.”
She nodded. His smile and his e
motions merged and she didn’t try to read any more than that from him. She’d said yes, and nothing else mattered, till Friday.
“Wonderful.” His tone was pleased, his voice, masculine and drawling. “I’ll pick you up here and take you to any restaurant you want to go to.”
Only as Soroush turned to leave did she realize he’d abandoned his questions about the woman in the picture completely, like not only did his date with her supersede them, but now they were obsolete.
Chapter 7
Bruin pulled out of the police department parking lot, where cars were streaming away like starving bees in search of flowers, all toward the farm where Heather lived. The One True Mates would have their young born at home or at a private hospital with a shiften doctor in attendance, as was shiften tradition. Sometimes the young could be born as pups or cubs or kits. It was rare, but when it happened, if a human witnessed it, there was a lot of explaining to do. There were a few Citlali alive, or at least there had been thirty years ago, who could modify a human’s memories, and that was the fallback. But the main plan had always been to not birth young around humans in the first place.
There would be ambulances on call, in case of complications, and the bearen paramedics could provide care that rivaled any hospital emergency room. They had veterinarians on call also-the finest in the state had been moved to Serenity and put on the police department payroll with a brand new, gleaming animal hospital that boasted the newest technology.
But if Heather’s baby was born as a wyrmling and did not or could not shift into human form, and there were complications… Rhen help them all. Remington would be on his own. They hadn’t been able to find him so much as a veterinary assistant who had shiften blood. After months of searching, they’d found no one who could be trusted with the secret. Remington was training Dahlia and Cerise as nurses, but they would be no substitute for the real thing. Both were considering going to veterinary school, but that took years, and wouldn’t help them in the next few days…
Bruin knew he could not help deliver the young, he had only limited medic training, so he didn’t feel bad about heading home. He had his own crisis to deal with the only way he knew how.
He drove along increasingly smaller and bumpier roads until he came to a hidden farmhouse driveway on the outskirts of town. He turned down the driveway, coasting down the hill and around the trees, then drove past the burnt out husk of a truck in the driveway, the keys of which were still in one of his pockets, like someday he might come home and find it had been a bad dream.
Bruin tried not to think about what had happened to his truck and parked his little car, ignoring the squeak of the shocks as he hauled his bulk upright.
He kept his eyes down and clomped up his porch steps, his welcome mat making him smile, but only for a moment. He unlocked his door and slipped inside. Pictures of his brothers faced him from every wall. He marked each one, then looked at his telescope near the back sliding glass door, decided no, he wasn’t in the mood for looking up the bluff, and headed downstairs to the cool and quiet master bedroom. He would shift and run and rub against trees in the forest behind his home when he woke, but for now, he needed quiet. Complete and utter contemplation time. If he fell asleep, even better. He spoke to himself openly when asleep, often waking with a complete understanding of thoughts and beliefs that had been veiled before.
He stopped on the stairs long enough to pull his phone out of his pocket and throw it onto the top step. No alarms allowed, no calls either. He wasn’t coming out till he knew what to do about the chief’s decision.
It was cool at the bottom of the stairs, cool, and dry and dark. He made his way to his bedroom without turning on the lights, ignoring the tiny bed in the corner, and heading for the partially open door of the walk-in closet instead. The thing was big enough to be a small room in itself, so that’s what he had turned it into. There were no clothes inside it, only carefully selected blankets and massive pillows piled as high as his waist. Bruin kicked off his boots and his khakis, hearing his treasures jingle in his pockets, then he stripped off his shirt and climbed into his den, his bed, whatever you wanted to call it.
In moments, he was out, talking to himself in the way of dreams.
Chapter 8
Mac swore as the tail end of Bruin’s sedan came into view in the driveway they had entered. “Shit, woman, you’re a genius. Remind me to buy you something pretty.”
Rogue snorted. “And shiny. I have expensive tastes.”
Mac was glad to hear her good humor had somewhat returned. He hadn’t given up on finding Amaranth, and he didn’t think Rogue had either, but she’d only now been able to jettison some of the pain they had stirred up by actively looking for her. It was regroup time, and there was so much going on it kept her from thinking too much about Amaranth.
It had been three days since they’d flown home and headed straight to Trevor’s farmhouse. Better yet, they now had their very own home in the back. Village Fucktastic, house number four, that was their new address, and it actually suited them. Rogue had warmed up to her half-sisters. Mac had even walked in on her rubbing Heather’s back and hips as Heather labored for the third day in a row, sleeping for an hour here or there as the contractions let her. Mac had asked and been told some women could labor for weeks, their body warming up for birth in a slow burn, especially when it was their first baby.
Mac had taken one look at the sheen of sweat on Heather’s forehead and the way the muscles in her torso and thighs bunched with every contraction she had and shaken his head at her stamina. Labor must be what turned a woman into the badass she needed to be once she was a mother.
No young yet. No pups, not even a little dragon baby. No one knew how the young would come out, but everyone had shifted their attention to Heather, while Ella spent her days at Shay’s bedside in the nursing home, waiting for either Shay’s babies to be born, or her own labor to start. Each evening, Trevor would drive her home, she would waddle in to check on Heather and lend her some moral support, catch a few hours of sleep, then insist Trevor take her right back to Shay’s room.
Mac didn’t blame her. The more shiften heard Shay’s story, the more there was talk about her young. What should or shouldn’t be done. Ella probably believed those babies needed her there to ensure their safety.
Mac was glad he didn’t have any say in what happened to Shay’s young. Because that was the kind of thing that could give you a headache thinking about. They were babies, the most helpless thing in the universe. But if they were Khain’s? How did you get rid of a baby? He shook his head. You didn’t, unless you were a monster.
When the young were born, there would be a DNA test. But what could it say? Would it blare NOTHUMAN. NOTSHIFTEN. And then what?
Rogue whipped off her seatbelt as Mac slowed and stopped behind Bruin’s car. “What in the hell is that?” she asked, her eyes on the burnt metal husk in front of Bruin’s car.
Mac frowned. “Looks like a truck.”
“A truck someone mistook for a marshmallow,” Rogue muttered and jumped out.
Mac threw a glance over his shoulder at Trent and Troy, but both were curled up in the back seat, sleeping. They’d had duty all night. He left them and followed his mate, sniffing the delicate ashy smell of the fire that barely lingered, as he made his way to the wreckage. This had happened long before. Months ago, probably. As he circled the car he realized Rogue wasn’t even looking at it anymore. She had her hands on her hips and was staring at Bruin’s garage. “And a garage someone mistook for a target,” Rogue said softly.
Mac jerked his gaze up. Bullet holes, five of them in the wooden garage door, splinters torn from the edges. What in the hell?
Rogue glanced at him. “Bru ever mention someone trying to kill him?”
Mac shook his head. That couldn’t be what this was. Could it? He grabbed Roe’s hand. “Maybe this isn’t his place. Maybe he’s visiting.”
They headed up the porch steps, and Mac had another what-the-
hell-is-this? moment as he stared at the welcome mat on the porch of the house they weren’t certain about.
The fire department hadn’t helped them at all. Mac had called them himself, probably not helping his case when he called the bearen on the other end of the phone ‘nothing more than a squirrel on steroids.’ But shit, that fucker had tried to claim no one with the name Bruin worked for the Serenity Fire Department, and therefore there was no way they could have an address for such a male, could they?
Mac stepped to the side of the welcome mat that showed a yellow and black bee with a human face riding a unicorn that was breathing fire as it jumped over a rainbow, then hammered on the front door.
Rogue stared at the unbelievable welcome mat and snickered. “I’m pretty sure this is his place.”
***
Bruin opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of his den.
His body was slow and heavy and hungry. He’d slept for a long time. But it had been worth it. He knew what he would do, no matter what his chief said.
The fire chief could tell him he couldn’t work as a firefighter anymore, and Rhen might say the wolven couldn’t take him on as an honorary cop, but no one would tell him who he could be friends with. He was staying. Even if he never worked another day in his life, he could live simply, with Mac and Rogue, as long as they would have him. He would guard the babies and the One True Mates, as nothing more than a guy with a little bulk to throw around who wasn’t scared to fight for what he believed in.
He could be a permanent bodyguard to whoever seemed to need it most, offering himself over fully to the new generation. No payment needed, no title needed. No clan needed, if that’s what it came to. He would do anything to help out the shiften and the One True Mates and their progeny, and further the fight against Khain, and he would not be driven out of Serenity by anyone.