by Montana Ash
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he decided sleep was fruitless. Looking to the crack between his sloppily closed curtains, he noted that the sun’s rays would be brightening the pre-dawn sky any minute, so he pushed himself up, threw on some loose track pants and a tee shirt and made his way down the stairs. He didn’t bother putting on shoes, preferring to feel the earth beneath his feet as he made his way through the picturesque garden attached to the back of the house. His feet sank just as appreciatively into the cool sand where the beach met the edge of their established yard.
Breathing in deep and scrunching his toes, he felt his shoulders relax and the last vestiges of the nightmare slip away. Even though something about this last dream was niggling at him – it had seemed very centred around one chade in particular – he chose to let it go and enjoy the peace of the –
“Holy shit!” he yelled, clutching at his shirt as his heart beat frantically beneath the ratty fabric. A dark shape had come barrelling in his periphery vision before pouncing on him and taking him down to the sand. A frantic tongue licked enthusiastic kisses over every inch of exposed skin and he soon found himself laughing and patting the playful puppy instead of cursing and pushing him away.
“Zombie! Boy, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Zombie’s ever-growing paws perched on his shoulders and the dog tilted his head to the side as if he were really listening. If Beyden or Max were here, they would no doubt tell him that the animal could in fact understand him. “What are you doing out here, huh?”
“He’s with me.”
If anyone were to ask in the future the sound he made in that moment when he experienced his second jolt of the morning, he would forever say it was a manly battle cry and not a high-pitch squeal; “Max!” he reprimanded. “What do the two of you think you’re doing?” He knew it was still barely past five in the morning and even now there was only the barest hint of light emerging from the deep blue of the ocean on the horizon. “You’re up awfully early.”
“I could say the same about you,” Max pointed out as she sat down next to him on the sand.
For once, Zombie didn’t abandon ship and jump immediately to his master. Instead, he circled around a couple of times before curling up in his lap. It was no small achievement either, given the way the dog seemed to keep growing and growing. The once ankle-height, stripy and spotty, mongrel stray, was now knee-high to Max – calf-height on most of the rest of them. He was still a strange mishmash of colours and patterns and only one ear was standing up straight. His tail had recently started sprouting more fur and constantly waved like a fuzzy, maniacal flag whenever he was awake. Not even Max could tell what mix of breeds he was – not that any of them cared. He had quickly become the official, not-so-little, mascot of the Order of Aurora.
Deep, rumbling sounds had him half turning to identify the source. He wasn’t really surprised to see his Captain mumbling to himself as he tried to get comfortable with his coffee mug on the hammock strung between two large trees in the backyard. Lark was unable to discern the exact words but the pitch and the cadence let him know they were very likely curse words. He grinned; Ryker really wasn’t a morning person.
“The old man wouldn’t let you come out here on your own, huh?” he guessed.
Max sighed, running sand through her fingers, “Well, last time I said I couldn’t sleep and wandered downstairs I kind of had the life-force sucked out of me. Ryker’s still a little touchy about it.”
Lark widened his eyes comically, “That man is so sensitive.”
“Right?” Max bumped his shoulder and they shared a laugh. He still found moments like these surreal; sharing jokes and sarcasm with a goddess. But then, Max wasn’t just a goddess, was she? She was also family.
“Bad dreams?” Max enquired, presently.
He looked at her from under his lashes. She was facing forward, watching the tentative rays of the new sun breach the horizon. Her face was blank and Lark wondered how he was supposed to answer. He had told Darius and Dex about his perpetual night terrors but he had never volunteered the information to anyone else. He suspected Max knew but she had never said anything about them and he had respected her need for privacy and secrecy. This was the first time she had mentioned them so overtly.
“Yes,” he confirmed, “Bad dreams.”
Max sighed, a huge sigh that seemed to move her entire frame on the sand. “I’m sorry about that, Lark. No matter how strong my shields are when I’m awake, they weaken when I sleep. It’s my subconscious or something. I know some of my feelings trickle through to you. I –”
“Stop, Max. I don’t want your apology. I don’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s why I’ve never brought it up before. If it eases your burden in any way, then I am grateful for them,” he told her. And it was true, no matter how disturbing they were. As a sworn knight, it was his duty and his privilege to ensure his liege was protected, happy, and healthy at all times. That included when she was asleep.
Max let out an aggrieved sigh, “You knights …”
“We’re cool, huh?” he puffed out his chest, which he knew was the smallest amongst all the males in the household. He didn’t mind. His dancer’s physique more than got the job done.
Max chuckled, “Very cool,” she confirmed, humouring him. “But I’m still sorry. It’s not fair to you – even though it’s going to be an asset when you head off in search of the chades with souls.”
He frowned at that, “Is that why you asked me to go and not one of the others? Because I dream about them too?”
“It certainly factored in, of course. You’re able to see them in a different light now – with more sympathy, more compassion. But that’s not the whole reason. You’re also an amazing paladin, Lark. A real asset with your brains as well as brawn. Plus, your background gives you a unique perspective,” Max explained.
He couldn’t help but jolt at her mention of his past. He hadn’t discussed it with her. Hell, he hadn’t discussed it with anyone other than Ryker and that had just been superficial stuff because he figured the man should know who he was letting into his house. But he wouldn’t be surprised if Max knew every little detail of his life leading up to this moment. And not because she could read his mind either.
“What do you mean by a ‘unique perspective’?” he couldn’t help asking.
“Well, besides Dex, you’re the one who should be able to relate to pain and helplessness the best. And you haven’t been damaged by the chades the same way most of the others have. As far as they’ve come in adjusting their opinions of the chades, I’m very aware that these things take time. I can’t expect their feelings and attitudes to shift overnight. Thankfully, Dex has helped immensely. He’s walking, talking proof that some chades can be saved. But I know the rest of the gang are going to need further time, patience, and proof. You don’t need that time; you’re already there,” she stated.
He was already there, he acknowledged and he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that she knew it. He nodded his head once, “Fair enough. Can you tell me something though?” he asked, running his hand over the warmth of Zombie’s fur.
“Shoot.”
“Why am I sharing your dreams? It doesn’t make sense to me. I mean, I’m not psychic in any way or empathic. Our bond isn’t stronger than anyone else in the Order …” he trailed off.
Max smiled at him strangely, as if he should have figured out the why of it by now, “It’s because we’re connected. We were connected before we even met.”
“What?” That certainly wasn’t what he had been expecting, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“We’re so similar, Lark. That’s one of the things that ensures the connection; like recognises like.”
The further explanation still didn’t help him and he shook his head, “Alike? Max, we are nothing alike.” She was the most precious thing on the planet and he was the rejected son of a violent sociopath.
“Sure we are. Crappy childhoods, bad decisions of other’s thrust upon us,
adrift and searching for a family … But not arseholes. We didn’t let it turn us into arseholes,” she explained, causing him to laugh despite himself.
“And then there’s that other cosmic connection linking us together before we met,” Max pointed out.
“What do you mean this time?”
Max smiled, “Luna Rose.”
“Your pen name?” he questioned in confusion.
Max nodded, “I know you’re a fan – a genuine fan. That is totally trippy by the way – having fans. Anyway, you knew me before you even met me. I may use a pseudonym when I write but it’s still me. Everything I need to vent, everything I need to escape, everything I need to celebrate, I put into my writing. That’s me, right there on those pages. You connected with my books, Lark. You identified with them. Therefore, you connected with me, identified with me. I’d say that’s a very intimate connection. Wouldn’t you?”
Lark opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, unable to form words. It was a strange kind of logic that made perfect sense to him. Turning to her, he admitted, “I read them when I need to escape. Or when I need to vent. Or when I want to celebrate something.”
“See! Connections,” Max put her closed fist out and he couldn’t help smiling as he fist-bumped her liked she wanted. “Righteous!” she crowed, making a noise like an explosion as she shook her hand out.
The darn woman really is kooky in the best way, he thought.
“Oh, and there is also that other thing. It might also be helping with the whole subconsciousness mind-meld thing we have going on,” Max threw out, completely throwing him off guard.
“What thing?” he asked.
“That other thing you were born with that you haven’t revealed to your Captain or your fellow knights,” she pointed out, knowingly.
He felt himself swallow hard in nervousness and began tugging on Zombie’s ears. She knows, his internal voice was almost panicked, of course she knows. She knows everything! He scolded himself and wondered if this kind of resigned panic was how other people felt around him when he was popping off facts and information left and right, thanks to his photographic memory. He really hoped not. It was incredibly annoying. He cleared his throat;
“It’s not important.”
Max snorted, “Uh huh. If it’s not important, why haven’t you told them?”
Lark gritted his teeth and saw that Zombie had compassionate bi-coloured eyes focused on him as if he understood there was no arguing with Max. Damned if the dog wasn’t right, “Max …” he began.
She held up a hand before using it to push herself up off the ground and dust sand off her rear end. Her timing was perfect because the sun chose that moment to make its full and spectacular appearance beyond the horizon. Her curvy frame became silhouetted against the pink and orange backdrop and the bright rays of light ignited the fire in her hair. He shook his head over the sheer powerful beauty of her. She practically glowed everywhere the light touched and he wondered fancifully if perhaps the sun rose every morning just for her.
She smiled at him, a warm, tender smile and he couldn’t help but wonder if she had heard his thoughts … or had stood up at that particular time on purpose to remind him she was a goddess. Probably the latter, he admitted. The woman was darn devious. Her smile grew decidedly more wicked and he knew with certainty that she had heard him that time.
“I won’t say anything to Ryker or the others and I won’t ask you to either. You have a right to your privacy. But you need to know; it won’t change anything for them. You’ll still just be you.”
He nodded because what else could he do? She was giving him a free pass. But he heard himself seeking further reassurance as he asked; “And you’re sure just me is enough?”
Max nodded decisively, “I have no doubt you are the correct man for the job.”
“And Ivy is the correct woman for the job?” he hazarded, suppressing the warm tingle her name on his lips wrought.
“Oh, yes. Absolutely. Fair warning though,” she bent down to pinch his cheek, “she’ll end up either killing you or kissing you.”
Hearing the words kissing in conjunction with Ivy had his mind nose-diving into the gutter for a split second before he gained his wits back. Max was already walking away but he couldn’t let her have the last word. Not about this. No matter what she thought she knew. “Maybe I’ll be the one doing the killing and kissing. Did you ever think of that?”
Max spun around to face him but kept walking backwards, “Please! Haven’t you men realised it yet? It’s the women around here who wear the pants.”
He heard her chuckle even as she turned back around and he watched as she gave her butt a hearty slap through said pants as she walked away.
The women wore the pants? Well, maybe he would just have to take them off.
FOUR
A couple of hours later, with the last vestiges of the nightmare still clinging stubbornly to his mind, he decided the best way to rid himself of the sticky residue was to work it off. Entering the combined kitchen-dining area, he paused so he could take in the flurry of activity. Axel was tempting fate by drinking his pulp-free orange juice straight from the carton once again. Lark knew he only did it to piss off the rather staid Darius and sure enough, the Order’s second in command snatched the juice carton from Axel’s hand, pointed his finger at the jokester and began his predictably long-winded lecture. Lark watched as Axel winked one electric blue peeper at Diana – Darius’s partner – and she returned the gesture with the addition of a huge grin.
The big table held Max, Dex, Cali and Beyden; Max was sitting cross-legged on her chair, a sketch pad and charcoals in front of her as she scribbled madly on the paper. Dex was unsuccessfully attempting to get Cali to eat the bowl of mixed fruit in front of her. The tall blonde was studiously ignoring the father of her child and instead was leaning against Beyden, sniffing his coffee like it was her personal crack. Lark knew she could no longer stomach the bitter brew but she still loved the smell. Beyden indulged the mother-to-be by tucking her under his arm and fanning the air over the mug in her direction. Cali planted a noisy kiss on Bey’s cheek and Lark saw the instant colour which infused his friend’s cheeks.
And what was their hard-boiled, cranky Captain doing throughout it all? He was leaning against the island bench, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand and a very indulgent, very paternal smile on his lips. Lark could hardly believe the change in Ryker’s countenance sometimes and he often wondered if this was how the man had been before he’d lost his first liege and Order. Although scenes like this were a common occurrence in his life now, it was times like these when he was grateful for his photographic memory. Because even as his eyes tracked everything, his brain quickly analysed it all in real-time before storing it permanently in his brain, ensuring his synapses would be able to retrieve the data in every minute, chaotic detail whenever he desired.
His eyes finally latched onto the one figure who seemed out of place in such a warm, domesticated scene. He immediately felt a twinge of guilt at the thought because he knew what it was like to be on the outside looking in and wishing for something more. Not that he could say for sure Ivy even wanted something more. Perhaps she truly was the very epitome of a ranger and had no desire to become entrenched in their little family. Perhaps the cold, distant look in her eyes and the disdain that flittered over her features as she took in the happy, boisterous scene really was the true her.
But he didn’t think so and it wasn’t because he was crushing on the woman either, he assured himself. No, Lark had seen the way her brown eyes smiled whenever she looked at her brother and the way her hands held onto him tightly when they hugged. The woman was definitely capable of warmth. Which meant, there was only other one explanation for her behaviour; she believed she wasn’t capable. He couldn’t help wondering why that bothered him so much.
*****
Ivy retained her aloof and almost bored countenance as the household went through its noisy and slightly insane mor
ning ritual. It was no small feat either, given the ridiculous behaviour of the kitchen’s occupants. Ivy could hardly believe they were all mature adults – ones who had overcome many a tragic past too. How the hardened Captain could lean down and nibble casually on his liege’s ear, causing her to bat him negligently away as she continued her frenetic drawing, she had no clue. She also couldn’t understand why Darius insisted on repeating his germ lecture every day when it was so obvious that Axel thrived on the inane biology lesson. What’s more, she knew the man would soon seat himself at the large table, proceed to rock back on the chair legs and receive yet another lecture from the second in command.
Ivy barely refrained from rolling her eyes as she noticed Cali sitting on her brother’s lap as he sipped his morning coffee so she could be closer to the fumes. A quick glance at the baby-daddy more than deserved another eye roll, Ivy thought. The former chade was watching his fiancé’s antics with an indulgent smile and a sappy, love-struck look in his dark eyes. The man practically had little hearts shining in them. Sorry excuse for a lethal warrior, she thought with disdain. Not with envy, she assured herself, definitely disdain. She had nothing to be envious about.
A feeling of being watched stole over her and she straightened her back against the wall a little where she had begun to slouch. Green eyes were focused on her and she swore she could almost see pity in their depths. She raked her gaze over Lark slowly before shifting her focus even though she wanted to quickly look away from that knowing stare. The man saw too much. No, not a man, she corrected. He was a boy, barely legal and she’d do well to remember that. The boy chose that moment to enter the room fully and she knew he had been observing and cataloguing the rambunctious crew just as she had been.