To Shackle a Shrew (Southern Sanctuary Book 7)

by Jane Cousins

  Devon nodded, tapped out two painkillers and chased them down with some chardonnay, not the most sensible thing to do, but she wasn’t driving and honestly, if she were stone cold sober at this moment she’d be shredding Merrow hides. Though probably having something in her stomach wasn’t a bad idea, maybe she should get some fries for the table. That should cover the dining stipulation Alma had instigated for these dates. Hmmm, yes, salty fries and maybe a plate of salt and pepper calamari. Suddenly she realised silence had fallen over the table, four sets of blues eyes were trained her way, all filled with purpose and intent. “What? Is it my turn?”

  “Who would you pick?”

  “Which one of us is the best?”

  “You’d pick me, right?”

  Devon was a hair’s breath away from demanding one of her police escort for the day, Mac McKenzie or Tanner Bright, loan her a gun so she could put herself out of her misery. No, that’s what the Merrow would want, they wanted to wear her down. Straightening her shoulders, Devon snatched up her cards. “I pick the one who ends up walking away from this table with the most money.” She forced a mocking smile to tease the edges of her lips upwards as she glanced around at four suddenly very pale men. Hah, take that, assholes.

  The rest of the card game was like a bad comedy as the four brothers threw away high cards, folded with flushes and proceeded to bluff so obviously a toddler could tell when they were lying.

  By the time their ninety minute date was over, Devon’s pile of money was quite substantial and more than one of the brothers had turned their pockets inside out to prove they had no more cash on their person.

  Which just left one last chore, as she pulled out four envelopes from her clutch bag and placed them on the table in front of each of them. “I’ve subtracted the cost of today’s lunch from each of your money owed.”

  The Merrow Princes eyed the envelopes with longing. Each of them though hesitant to reach out and take what had been promised them for turning up today for lunch on time.

  Simon was the first to move, leaning over to push his envelope of money back towards Devon, though she could tell the action pained him as his hand visibly trembled. “Why don’t you donate my money to your favourite charity?”

  Devon accepted the envelope gracefully, with a small nod of appreciation, biting back a full blown smirk. “Well, I guess that counts you out Simon.”

  She’d barely finished the sentence when three more envelopes were thrust into her hands. All the brothers insistent that she keep her money.

  “So…” Devon looked at the four men, noting that three of them were smirking Martin’s way.

  Martin froze instantly, sweat popping out on his forehead as he tried to work out why his brothers were looking so triumphant. Something must have clicked as he quickly thrust his hands into his pants pocket and came out with several crumpled bills. He stared at the money as if he was holding a poisonous snake. “Um… er, a tip! Someone should leave a tip.” He threw the money down in to the middle of the table and shot to his feet. “Guess I’ll be walking home, huh?” He joked, though his voice was strained as he stared longingly at the pile of money in front of Devon for a split second. “Nice meeting you Princess, bye.”

  Chairs screeched back and the table wobbled for a moment as the remaining three brothers shot to their feet, mumbling farewells whilst studiously avoiding eye contact with her and headed speedily towards the door.

  Devon smiled, watching them race out. She figured between the four of them they might just have enough money to carpool to the Brisbane airport, so not her problem anymore. Carefully, she leaned back in her chair, very aware of how tender her back was still. Even though as Nell had promised there was no visible scar left of her injury, she was guessing it would take a little time before the internal damage was completely healed.

  “Which one are you going to choose, Devon?” A male voice questioned from the back of the bar.

  “Number three, he had nice eyes.” An older female voice shouted out from off to the right.

  “Nah, his ears were too large, number four.”

  “Come on Devon, give us a clue.”

  Devon noted several betting books being opened, money already beginning to change hands. Obviously the locals were over their disappointment that she had organised a secret day with three of the suitors earlier in the week and had forgiven her for paying good money for the last remaining four to turn up today, on time. Honestly, she wondered what they would all do for entertainment when she was gone… funny, a small niggly part of her was actually sad at the thought.

  Hmm, maybe she was more fatigued from her near death experience yesterday than she’d initially thought. Time to go home, with her police escort, and rest… and think… she now had twenty-four hours before she had to make her final decision and choose a husband. A part of her balking at the idea, as she recalled what Nabha had said about being brainwashed since birth to honour the Makura ideals. Ideals that were more self-serving to the reigning Queen than to the well-being of their race. The well-being of the individual involved.

  Hadn’t she always thought in the back of her mind that her marriage contract was the price she had to pay to keep her freedom and distance from the Makura court? But what if her grandmother truly had been manipulating her from the cradle? She’d obviously seen something in Devon’s nature that she felt threatened by. Fearing that one day Devon might try to usurp her, the devious old sea cow had instigated the Merrow betrothal contract, but she hadn’t stopped there, had she?

  She thought back to her childhood, how every year her grandmother would hiss and snarl over the idea of Devon spending two months with her father. How Gellai would broadly hint that she was thinking about refusing letting Devon go. Eventually, after much begging and pleading, her grandmother would grudgingly give in, once she deemed Devon had debased herself sufficiently.

  But looking back now with the hindsight as an adult, Devon realised that her grandmother had never had the power to refuse her father access. After all, it had been a stipulation he’d insisted upon adding to the betrothal/spawning contract he’d signed with her mother. Yet her grandmother had used her annual visit as a tool to control Devon. She felt sickened now at the memory of how grateful she’d been to her grandmother for giving her permission.

  Just like she’d been so very grateful when after months of arguing and pleading her grandmother had consented to let her study medicine in Sydney Yet, all along, the Royal bitch’s plan must have been to get Devon as far away from the Makura court as she could for as long as possible. The same could be said for the way her Queen had so graciously consented to Devon’s plan to stay and practise in Sydney. She could clearly recall being so grateful, so thrilled at being allowed to follow her dreams.

  Allowed? It was a funny word. As if she needed to seek permission for her actions. But hadn’t she? Hadn’t they all? Her cousins? Her aunts? Her mother? She’d been taught since birth that the Makura were mighty, proud and independent.

  Yet they weren’t, not really. How could they be when their only ties to the outside world were carefully managed and sanctioned by their Queen?

  The gall of the woman, she’d deliberately managed Devon, played her so that felt she had to honour the marriage contract in order to repay her Queen, her people, for all the kindness they’d shown her over the years.

  Kindness, Yami, she’d been played a fool from day one. Her grandmother setting up situation after situation, withholding the carrot, beating Devon about the head with her queenly hesitations and her refusals. Then, when Devon had all but given up hope, Gellai would suddenly be all kindness and benevolence.

  She’d been played for a patsy, and to think she’d held such contempt for Sienna Groves, thinking she was such an easy mark. Rivers and Lakes, she was the patsy poster girl if there was ever one needed. Talk about self-deluded. It hurt her heart to think that her own flesh and blood could manipulate her so completely, so uncaringly.

  It was tempting to r
ace back to court and steal the throne, tear her Grandmother down and enlighten her fellow Makura as to how their Queen behaved. But to what end? Then she’d have to remain and rule. And whilst she’d spent her earlier years feeling hemmed in by the court’s isolation and restrictions, her family had seemed to revel in the fact, in some misguided belief that their segregation meant they were superior, not cut off, as Devon had always felt.

  All these revelations only served to make her thoughts churn like a storm tossed ocean. Should she go through with the marriage contract? Should she announce in twenty-four hours who her future husband was to be? Devon reached into one of the envelopes stuffed with money and added a wad of notes to the tip that Martin had left. Hopefully that would cover the ten deep gouge marks she’d left in the table top.

  * * *

  “How was your date?” Liam tried and failed not to sound slightly peevish.

  “Good… fine.” Devon didn’t look up from where she was lying face down on one of the comfy sofas in the living room.

  Liam frowned down at her, where was her usual snappy tone? He watched concerned as a wan curl lifted from the mass cascading down her back and gave him a half-hearted wave. Something was definitely up with his Princess. “Was the date that bad?” He found his own mood perking up.

  “Meh, same old - same old, though I did walk away from the table with more money than I started. Which I suppose could be considered a win.”

  “Or a miracle.” Liam offered.

  “True, Merrow parting willing with their money is pretty rare. Just goes to show how scared they are at the idea of being chosen as my bridegroom. I told them whoever had the most money in their pockets by the end of the date won the post.”

  “And that’s got you depressed?” Liam wondered out loud.

  “No… and I don’t want to talk about it.” Absently she swung her bare feet back and forth, a finger tracing the cushion seat she currently was resting her cheek against. “Ever…”

  Yami, she knew she sounded like a small petulant child but she was weary to her very bones. Her back no longer hurt but somewhere did inside she felt knotted and stalled. It was an unfamiliar feeling. She always knew what she wanted, which direction she wanted to head. Until today. Now she felt like she was standing at the edge of a precipice, and whatever choice she made next would send her spiralling down to shatter into small pieces.

  Suddenly she became aware that a few minutes had passed and that Liam still stood over her, staring down. She turned her head slightly to peer up at him. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  He sounded way too innocent. She really looked at him, taking in the faded, tight denim jeans that did great things for his muscular thighs and the white t-shirt he was wearing with the beer slogan splashed across the front, his blonde hair looking windblown and sticking up in all directions. “Don’t give me that. You’re staring at my butt, aren’t you?”

  Liam shrugged, a wicked leer crossing his face. “Not at all.”

  “I hope you realise the whole town knows you bit me on the ass.”

  Liam chuffed out a laugh. “Why would you tell people about that?”

  “I didn’t! It’s in the police report. Nell noted it down when she did her assessment of my injuries.”

  “Ah, that might explain a few of the looks the guys were sending me today.” Liam took a step forward. “Move your legs for a second.”

  “What…” Devon issued a put upon sigh as Liam lifted her legs, plonking himself down on the sofa next to her, somehow managing to turn her over in the manoeuvrer, recapturing her legs and bringing them down to rest on his lap. She attempted to move away but he was having none of it. With another sigh she grabbed a cushion, placing it beneath her head. “So, did you find Sienna’s body?”

  “No… it was gone, someone must have got there before we did.”

  Devon studied Liam closely, he looked tired and there was faint colour across the bridge of his nose and cheeks where he’d caught some sun. She regretted taking her own bad mood out on him when he’d spent all day with the police chasing down answers trying to keep her safe. “Why would anyone want to take Sienna’s body?”

  Liam ran an absent hand up and down Devon’s bare calf. “I can only assume that if we had a chance to study it, that it might provide us with a clue. Either to Sienna’s background or to which one of my prick half-brothers’ is behind all this.”

  Devon scowled, plucking at the dark blue yoga top she’d changed into after her date. “Like what sort of clue?”

  “I don’t know. Can you think of anything she said, anything she did that might give us a direction to look?”

  “The woman was bat shit crazy, Liam. She was completely totally all out bonkers in love with… the fake you.”

  Liam’s index finger traced the edge of her skin tight three quarter length yoga pants. “Chief Hughes ran a back ground check, there is no Sienna Groves, so let’s assume it’s a fake name. But she wasn’t faking those symptoms of hers when she came into the hospital to check up on you, was she?”

  “No, not unless she willingly sucked on a flame thrower.”

  “Okay, so which underwater clans can breathe fire… green fire that’s almost impossible to put out?” Liam leaned his head back against the cushion, it had been a very long fruitless day. Finding the underwater cave, moving all that rock, searching for a body that it took them a while to work out was long gone.

  “It’s a pretty rare ability I would imagine.” Devon mused. “No clans automatically spring to mind. But let’s look at this logically. With magic involved, races adapt and evolve rather quickly from generation to generation. Often, when one generation initiates a frequently used magic work around, the next generation adapts that requirement, displaying a natural affinity or ability, such as being able to breathe fire underwater.”

  Liam tensed. “You know, being able to create fire under water, that’s not a new thing, not a magic thing anyway. Running cables, building oil platforms out at sea or… shit.” Liam’s whole body tensed. “Salvage operations. Breaking up ships, reselling everything for parts. One of the betrothal contracts is with the Louisiana Scaves, they own several businesses along the coast that perform salvage operations. They keep to themselves…”

  “But it fits.” Devon reached over to grab Liam’s hand. “I bet they’ve been using magic for years to break apart ships, it would be only natural for the race to evolve and adapt that ability until the current generation can breathe fire under water.”

  Liam dug his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll text Chief Hughes the information… problem is, whoever was impersonating me wouldn’t leave any evidence behind connecting the Merrow to the Scaves. Whoever is behind this would want all the blame to land squarely on Sienna, or whatever her name really was.”

  Devon frowned. “Perhaps there will be some security footage at the airport or the hotel he stayed at. Maybe… Sienna’s family knows something about him.”

  “Or.” Liam hit the send button on his phone before placing it down on the coffee table. “Maybe if we tell her family that she’s dead they’ll come looking for retribution, and since mine is the only name they know...”

  “Wow.” For some reason Devon found herself smiling. ‘You just can’t catch a break can you?”

  “And this makes you happy, why?”

  “Perhaps it’s just a little Karma for the bite sized bruise on my ass.”

  “That sucks. How come Karma is so heavily weighted in your direction? A red-necked hit squad after me in return for what was really just a little motivational playful nip to get your frozen to the rock-face butt into gear.”

  “I wasn’t frozen, I was catching my breath.”

  “Anything past five minutes is frozen.”

  “And you’d be the expert, wouldn’t you?”

  There was something in the pointed way that Devon made that statement that had Liam instantly wary. He sent her a wary questioning look.

  “You
lied to my face.” She accused, though not with any real anger in her voice. If anything it pained her to realise that injured pride tinged her statement more than anything.

  “I never lied.” Liam protested, sliding his hand down Devon’s calf to her foot. “I prevaricate, omit, suggest, deflect, evade, hedge, parry, confound, misdirect and when I know it will completely muddy the waters, I balls out tell the truth. But as to your accusation, would you care to be a little bit more specific?”

  “Your job. Sienna boasted to me all about her transcendent soul-mate’s accomplishments.” Devon fought not to squirm with pleasure as Liam began to massage her foot, usually she didn’t like people touching her feet. “You led me to believe you take girlie photos. Though I’m not sure flinging yourself out of airplanes and off mountain tops to take photos of extreme sports whack jobs is any less of an idiotic occupation.”

  Liam grinned. “I’ve won awards too. I believe I mentioned that.”

  Devon upped his grin with a smirk, she had to know if he had feelings for her. Perhaps he’d changed his mind about the idea of marrying her. “You know, with this respectable award winning job of yours, it practically makes you a shoe-in to be declared my betrothed.”

  “So you’re really going to make a decision tomorrow? Pick a groom?” He shook his head.

  “You sound disapproving.” Devon pointed out as her stomach began to churn, did his reaction mean that he was still anti marriage? Or just anti tying himself to her?

  Liam heaved a sigh. He was tempted to tell Devon he loved her, but if she was still willing to go through with a stupid arranged marriage then there was no bloody way the woman could have any feelings for him. “The only two people who win if you go through with this marriage is my father and your grandmother. You’ll be miserable, and you’ll quickly come to hate with a nail slicing passion whoever you choose to wed.”

  “Who do you think I should choose?” Yami, she couldn’t believe she’d asked that question out loud. She sounded like a teenage girl.