Evans, Gabrielle - Reckoning [Fatefully Yours 9] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever ManLove)

by Gabrielle Evans

  “I’m not ruling anything out. If they were wiped, that opens a whole new can of worms and brings up a lot more questions, though.”

  “As in why it was important to conceal those thoughts in the first place.” Eyce propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. A drink sounded pretty fucking good at the moment.

  “I’ll second that.” Syx stood straight and jerked his head toward the door. “I say we get shitfaced and deal with this crap tomorrow. My damn brain hurts.”

  “I won’t say no to a beer, but drowning our sorrows in booze isn’t going to help anything.” Fiero stood from the sofa and marched over to the office door. “This shit isn’t going away just because we don’t want to deal with it. I suggest you put your big girl panties on and get the fuck over it.” Then he wrenched open the door and disappeared down the hallway.

  “I’ll go.” Eyce was on his feet and moving before the words even left his mouth. He didn’t have to search far to find the warrior.

  Fiero leaned against the kitchen counter, beer bottle in hand. He wasn’t drinking it, though. The cap wasn’t even off. He just stared at it as though it had morally offended him. Then he opened the refrigerator door and replaced the bottle. “We drink too much.”

  “We fight and swear too much as well.” Eyce eased into the room cautiously. “What’s going on, man?”

  Eyce didn’t expect an answer, so when Fiero started talking he had to quickly school his features and erase any trace of shock.

  “It feels like everyone is giving up. We just came back from our little escape from reality. One conversation later and Syx wants to get plastered and forget about all of this. We can’t keep putting it off forever.”

  “We’re not giving up.” Eyce crossed the kitchen until he stood right in front of his lover. He crowded Fiero back against the fridge and rested his hands on the man’s hips. “Syx is scared.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m fucking scared, too. That doesn’t mean I’m just going to roll over and take it up the ass, though.”

  Eyce thrust his hips forward to rub their groins together. “I bet you would.”

  Fiero wasn’t amused. He shoved at Eyce’s chest and glared. “This is not some goddamn game, Eyce. You do realize that one or more of us could end up dead, right? What if Ares takes Hex? What if he actually succeeds in offing Echo this time?”

  “We’re not going to let that happen. We’ll find the answers, kick Ares’ ass all the way back to Olympus, and live happily ever after like in the fairy tales. Is that what you want me to tell you? I don’t know what’s going to happen any more than you do. Being a dick to everyone isn’t helping, though.”

  Fiero spun around and retrieved his beer from the refrigerator. “Well, it makes me feel better.” Then he pushed past Eyce and left the kitchen.

  Eyce hung his head and groaned. “That went well,” he told the empty room. He wouldn’t go after Fiero just yet. He’d give the man a little time to stew before he tried to talk to him again.

  They’d all been at each other’s throats for weeks. Sure, they had their good times, and it wasn’t like they constantly bickered night and day, but tempers were running high. They said things they didn’t mean—or at least didn’t mean to say out loud.

  How much more strain could their relationship withstand before it finally broke?

  Chapter Seven

  Syx had passed Buzz Landing, climbed over Drunken Hill, and was well on his way to Smashedville. He stared at the shot of tequila clenched between his fingers and shrugged. “Down the hatch,” he mumbled before tossing it back.

  The stuff didn’t even burn anymore. He also couldn’t think any longer, which was exactly the goal he had in mind. Eyeing the nearly empty bottle of Cuervo, he contemplated just chugging directly from the source. There couldn’t be more than two shots left. It seemed silly to leave it.

  It took a couple of attempts to pick out the real bottle and grasp the neck. Had he ever been so drunk that he was seeing not just double, but triple? He didn’t think so. With another shrug, he pulled the bottle to his lips and turned it up, downing the last of its contents.

  How pathetic did it make him that he was falling down drunk and doing it alone? Blinking several times to clear his blurred vision, he quickly gave up and slammed the bottle down on the kitchen table. Where the fuck was everyone? “Guys!” he shouted. “Get your scrawny asses in here, and someone bring more booze!”

  Fuck, what time was it anyway? He was pretty sure the sun had set by the time he’d started drinking. If he’d been human, he might worry about alcohol poisoning. Good thing he wasn’t. He could drink as much as he liked and not even have a hangover the next morning. Yippie!

  When he realized no one had answered his summons, Syx growled and pushed up from his chair. Swaying on his feet, he gripped the table to steady himself. When he felt he could walk without falling on his face, he went in search of more liquor. Or was it spirits? He never really understood the distinction. It didn’t matter, either, as long as it kept doing its job.

  He rummaged through the cabinets in the kitchen, getting more pissed off by the minute when he didn’t immediately find what he was looking for. Well, he’d just have to go assault the liquor cabinet in the basement. “Assholes!” he yelled. Who the hell decided to put the booze in the basement? It seemed like a stupid place to him.

  Stumbling across the kitchen, he tried to reach for the doorknob that would allow him access to the basement, but the damn thing kept moving on him. “Asshole,” he repeated with a slight growl. Stepping away from the door, he lifted his foot and kicked at the thing.

  Though he landed a solid blow, the door didn’t budge. Syx, however, toppled over backward, whacked the back of his head on the table, and ended up on his back on the kitchen floor. “Motherfucker!”

  Now, not only didn’t he have tequila, but his head throbbed like crazy. Touching the back of his head where it hurt the worst, he grimaced when his fingers came away sticky with blood. “This is all your fault!” He had no idea who he was blaming, but it made him feel better.

  “Man, would you shut the hell up?”

  A blurred face appeared above him, and it took several seconds of concentration for Syx to realize the face belonged to Craze. “Where are my mates?”

  “Ignoring your belligerent ass, if I had to guess. Let me fix your head.” Craze knelt beside him and began running his hands over the bleeding wound. “Dumbass,” he muttered under his breath.

  “I heard that.”

  “Good, because you’re acting like an idiot. What’s gotten into you anyway? It’s three o’clock in the damn morning, and you’re down here banging around and yelling.”

  “You were up anyway. Why are you complaining?”

  Craze glared but helped Syx to a sitting position. “Jinx and Syn are hungry, but too afraid to leave the attic. Gage is threatening to kick your ass. You’re scaring the shit out of our mates.”

  “I’m not hurting anyone,” Syx argued.

  “I’m not having this discussion right now. I’ll explain it to you when you sober up. You’re going to hate yourself in the morning.” Craze grunted as he slung Syx’s arm around his neck and hauled him to his feet.

  “I don’t get hangovers.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Where are my mates?” Syx asked again, ignoring Craze’s comment. With his brain swimming in tequila, he couldn’t make heads or tails of it anyway.

  Craze wrapped an arm around Syx’s waist to support him, and led the way out of the kitchen. Syx forgot that he’d asked a question as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

  “Bed or couch?” Craze asked.

  “I don’t know!” Syx screamed at him. “I don’t have any answers, okay? Why do I have to make all of the goddamn decisions? Just leave me alone!” His chest heaved by the time he’d finished shouting like a lunatic. Even he could hear the craziness in his voice, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I jus
t want everyone to leave me the fuck alone!”

  Craze nodded curtly and dropped Syx to the sofa like a sack of potatoes. “Try to sleep, or at least shut up for a while.”

  Syx couldn’t make his limbs work to stretch out on the cushions, so he just threw his arms over his eyes and grunted. “Go away.”

  “You’re a prick when you drink.”

  “Yep, that’s me. Now, leave me alone. I don’t have any answers for you. I don’t have anything left to give. Go fuck your little bloodsuckers, or do you need me to tell you how to do that as well?”

  “You stupid son of a bi—”

  “Enough.”

  Syx groaned at Echo’s sharply spoken command. He so didn’t need this shit.

  “Craze, thank you. Go take care of your mates. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Heavy footsteps thundered across the floor, and Syx had a momentary sense of panic that Craze would hurt Echo. Before he could force his body to move to protect his mate, he heard Craze stomping up the staircase. Relaxing back into the cushions, he sighed.

  A moment later, he felt his boots being pulled off his feet, and then his legs were lifted to the sofa. Forcing himself to move, Syx groaned as he found a more comfortable position. He lifted his arm away from his face, but didn’t open his eyes. He knew he was being a huge dick, and he couldn’t stand seeing the disappointment in Echo’s eyes.

  The cushions dipped, and a warm body molded to his chest. His eyes snapped open, and he stared down at the top of Echo’s blond head. “What?”

  “Hush.” Echo cuddled closer, resting his head on Syx’s shoulder. “Don’t say a word. Just go to sleep.”

  “Echo, I…” Syx trailed off, unsure of what to say. What could he say? He was wrong, and he knew it.

  “I said shut up and go to sleep.” Echo rested his hand on Syx’s chest, right over his heart, and sighed. “Goodnight, Syx.”

  He didn’t deserve this, but he felt too needy to pass up the chance to hold his mate. Draping an arm over Echo’s waist, Syx pulled him close, rested his cheek on the top of his lover’s head, and fell asleep within seconds.

  The next time he opened his eyes, the sun was spilling in through the window, the house was unnaturally quiet, and he was alone. Resigned to the inevitable ass-chewing he’d get—and knowing he deserved it—Syx went in search of his mates.

  As predicted, he didn’t have a hangover. His mouth didn’t feel sticky or dry. Nothing about him said he’d spent the night getting sloshed and making an ass out of himself. Nothing, that is, except the fact that he was alone. How badly had he screwed up?

  He’d known it was a bad idea, but damn it, he just wanted to forget for a while. Just one night to escape the constant and unpleasant thoughts inside his head. No one would understand, though. They couldn’t understand. And how did he tell them that they’d contributed to his mini breakdown?

  No matter how hard he tried, or how many barriers he constructed, his lovers’ thoughts, fears, and doubts slipped into his mind. Maybe it was because he was so connected to them. Maybe it was because he was weak and his shields sucked. Whatever the reason, he was losing his fucking mind.

  Climbing the stairs, he steeled himself for the confrontation to come. He knew he wouldn’t be lucky enough for everyone to just ignore him and act as though nothing had happened. It just wasn’t the way they did things. Or hell, maybe it was. So much shit had changed so quickly, Syx still felt like he was spinning half the time.

  He checked Echo’s room first and found it empty, so he moved on to the next. Working his way down the hall, he finally found his mates gathered in Hex’s bedroom. They were all huddled around the bed, talking in hushed whispers. The minute Syx stepped into the room, all conversation ceased.

  “Good morning,” Echo said hesitantly. His salutation lacked its usual warmth, and there was no cheery smile on his face.

  “He looks like shit,” Myst thought. “That must have been one hell of a bender.”

  “We really don’t need him losing his head right now.” Hex eyed Syx uncertainly as his thoughts penetrated Syx’s shields. “What the hell is eating at him anyway? We’re all feeling the stress, but we’re not going to find answers at the bottom of a bottle.”

  “I wish he would have just came and talked to me. Why isn’t he talking to me?” Vapre’s thoughts held just a hint of sadness.

  “Maybe it’s too much,” Eyce thought. “Maybe he can’t handle it. We shouldn’t have asked so much from him.”

  “We should probably just leave him alone for a while. He looks like he’s about to fucking lose it. I really don’t want to be on the receiving end of that shit either.” Fiero scooted a little closer to Echo as though Syx would suddenly explode and hurt the man.

  “Someone should probably say something.” Onyx shifted uncomfortably where he knelt on the floor beside the bed. “He’s looking at us funny. I wonder if he can hear what I’m thinking.”

  On and on the thoughts pushed at him, each of his men questioning his sanity and his ability to hold up under the strain. One night of drinking, and he was suddenly labeled as a liability. Good to know.

  “Dude, he’s creeping me out. Why does he keep looking at us like that? It’s not like we don’t have valid concerns.” Myst opened his mouth to speak aloud, but Syx cut him off by doing exactly what they expected.

  He exploded.

  “Shut up! All of you, just shut the fuck up! I am not crazy, and I don’t need your sympathy or your concern. If you think you can do this without me, then be my fucking guest!”

  “Syx,” Echo said softly.

  “No!” Syx backed toward the doorway. “I’m sorry that I interrupted what must have been a great laugh at my expense.”

  “It’s not like that.” Echo started to climb down from the bed, but Fiero’s arm wound around him and held him in place.

  That hurt. The idea that Fiero honestly believed that Syx would do something to hurt any of them, especially the smallest of them, stabbed him right in the heart. “Fuck you,” he whispered, then spun around and marched out of the room.

  If they thought he was capable of harming Echo, they obviously didn’t know him at all—or had a very low opinion of him. He’d destroyed his sanity, lost sleep, literally made himself sick, and for what? Not a damn one of them appreciated the time and effort he put into finding answers to ensure they were all safe.

  No, now he was the crazy one—a danger to all of them. Well, they could just go screw themselves. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone. They all viewed him as weak because he was the “sensitive” one. Well, not any more. He was a warrior, a demon, and born for battle. He could be just as cold and ruthless as anyone.

  Echo came running out of Hex’s room, shouting Syx’s name. “Will you just calm down and talk to me?”

  Stopping just before he entered his room, Syx turned slowly and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m calm. There’s nothing to say, though. Apparently, one screwup, and I’ve been tried and convicted without a word in my defense.” He held his hand up when Echo opened his mouth to argue. “I’m calm,” he repeated.

  “Syx, it wasn’t like that. We’re just worried about you.”

  Syx snorted. “I got drunk, Echo. It’s not like I set the house on fire, stripped naked, and danced around it.”

  “It’s not like you, though.”

  “And what exactly am I like? Sensitive, understanding, the guy who lets everyone walk all over him because he doesn’t have the balls to stand up for himself?” Syx shook his head. “I’m done being that guy.” He was also done with the conversation. Entering his room, he closed and locked the door right in Echo’s protesting face.

  “Syx!” Echo pounded on the door. “Open this damn door. I’m not finished talking to you.”

  Stripping out of his clothes, Syx crawled into bed and closed his eyes. It only took a few minutes for someone to come and lead Echo away. The blissful quiet settled over him, and Syx sighed in relief. Maybe if everyone was
pissed at him, they’d keep their distance, and he’d finally be able to find a moment’s peace.

  Chapter Eight

  By the time the sun went down, Echo had worked himself up to the point of nausea. He locked himself in his room, refused to eat, and wouldn’t talk to anyone. Syx hadn’t emerged from his room, either. No one could get him to say a word, not even Vapre.

  The silent treatment was beginning to gnaw at Eyce’s nerves. He could understand why the men were upset, but they were acting like a couple of women. Not that Eyce knew much about women, but they seemed more emotional and prone to tantrums—which is exactly what Syx and Echo were doing. They’d had their feelings hurt, overreacted, and were having themselves a good little pity party.

  “Still nothing?”

  Eyce looked over his shoulder at Fiero. He hadn’t even realized he was standing in front of Syx’s door, just staring at the wood. Okay, maybe he wasn’t as immune to the situation as he’d like to believe. It killed him that his men were hurting, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

  They were still being immature assholes, though.

  “No, nothing. Should we just kick the door down and drag him out?”

  Fiero snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, I see that going over well. Maybe we should just leave him alone until he’s calmed down and pulled his head out of his ass.”

  Though stubbornness played a major factor, Eyce suspected there was more to Syx’s meltdown than they knew. The screaming fit the warrior had when none of them had uttered a word out loud was one clue as to Syx’s state of mind. Eyce wasn’t sure what happened after that.

  Syx had gone quiet and seemed angrier than ever. He’d also looked hurt before walking out of Hex’s bedroom. The fact that he wouldn’t even allow Echo to talk to him spoke volumes. No one could resist Echo no matter how upset they were.

  “If you’re going to think so loudly would you please do it somewhere else?” Syx yelled through the door, causing Eyce to jump.

  “Or you could just open the door so I can say it out loud and to your face,” he countered.