Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees and propped his head in his hands. “Goddess help me, Teresa, you don’t understand. I can’t risk touching him.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“It amounts to the same thing. If he were human, it would have been bad enough, although I’d convinced myself that I could handle the inevitable separation. But he’s . . . he’s—”
“He’s achubydd.”
“You can tell?”
“I dare say any supe could, if they looked closely enough, and although I know perfectly well what his nature signifies, I’m not certain that you do.”
“He has no idea of the consequences of—” Alun glanced at Benjamin, who sat curled in the corner of the love seat with his little plastic toys in his lap “—a relationship with any supe, let alone one like me.”
“You mean someone who loves him?”
“Someone broken. Someone with a legacy of pain too great for even the strongest of achubyddion to bear without dying.” Alun scrubbed his hands over his misshapen forehead. “Even assuming he could bear to look at me as I am now, whatever he feels wouldn’t last. He was raised as a human. Humans shy away from the disabled, the deformed.”
“I’ve seen no such aversion. Indeed, he seems a very open-minded and resourceful young man, if a tad impulsive.” She smiled fondly down at her son and his toys. “Might I remind you that he’s taught members of two of the longest-lived species on the planet that there may be more ways to look at the world, at our problems, than we had believed? Perhaps you give him too little credit.”
Alun smiled, and from the astonished looks on the Tomlinsons’ faces, the sight must have been as rare as the dragon’s breath emerald. “Who is the therapist here, you or me?”
“We can all benefit from advice now and again, regardless of our training or experience.”
Could it work? David hadn’t been schooled in the ways of his kind, and with no living mentor—let alone any written achubydd lore—he might never be. Yet he’d gravitated to the health care field, to nursing. His instincts were there, but they were framed by the context of the mundane world, the only one he’d ever known.
Could that combination of instinct and modern sensibility trump eons of belief about what was possible—not only for David as an achubydd, but for all the supe races? Could there be a chance for the two of them to be together, if Alun allowed himself to think outside the confines of his Sidhe biases?
“I don’t know, Teresa. He’s beautiful, smart, funny. The only flaw I’ve detected is that he’s possibly the worst dancer on either side of the Faerie threshold. He could do so much better than a damaged soul like me.”
“What is it you always say to us? ‘It’s not up to me to make choices for you. You must choose your own path.’ Grant him the same courtesy as you would any of your clients. Just as Benjamin made his own choice of treasure, clearly David has chosen as well.”
“My history with his race is catastrophic. If it weren’t for me, David wouldn’t be the last of his kind. You don’t know what—”
“You blame yourself for the massacre.”
Alun jerked upright. “How did you—” His brows shot together. “Mal. I’ll—”
“Your brother is not one to keep secrets, but that’s not how I know. In the early days of your curse, you weren’t . . . shall we say . . . discreet in your grief.” She dipped her chin, her eyes swirling in lazy amusement. “A number of the supe races recorded it. In our case, it was a cadre in Aberystwyth whose hibernation cycle you disturbed.”
“I’m sorry—”
“No need to apologize to us for something so long past. But shouldn’t you consider forgiving yourself?”
No. Never. How could he so dishonor Owain’s memory as to put another of his kind in the same danger?
“I fear I’ve allowed us to digress. Let’s return to the reason for your visit.” He nodded at Benjamin, who was crooning a wordless tune to a plastic figure in an improbable black cape. “I think we should discuss transitioning him out of care, don’t you?”
“Mama, look.” Benjamin held out the caped figure. “This is Batman.”
“Is it, my dear?” She stroked his hair and cast a sly smile Alun’s way. “Why don’t you tell me about him, and your other treasures too, while Dr. Kendrick considers his next move?”
David returned from washing out the coffee urn to find Jackson Hoffenberg toying with a stapler and blocking the path to the desk. Great. Just freaking wonderful. Another unscheduled appointment, this time with the universe’s gift to brown suits.
“Mr. Hoffenberg, do you have an appointment?” I know damn well you don’t.
Hoffenberg set down the stapler and picked up David’s coffee mug, rotating it in his hand, running a forefinger around the rim. That’s not creepy in the least. He continued his cup-porn and stared at David like a shark eyeing especially tasty chum.
“Not with Dr. Kendrick. But I hoped I could prevail on you to have that drink with me.”
Danger, Will Robinson. The last time Hoffenberg was in the office, David had felt a definite distaste, but tonight, being less than a car-length away sent warning tingles marching across the back of his neck and down his spine. Was this an achu-whatsis thingy? Because now that he wasn’t shielded by Aunt Cassie’s talismans, everything felt orders of magnitude more than before.
Take Benjy—David didn’t just want to keep him occupied, he felt compelled to make him happy. And when Benjy was happy, it made David feel freaking awesome, like a continuous joy feedback loop.
With Alun, he was almost desperate to touch him, to soothe—and face it, to arouse too, but that wasn’t his first instinct. When Alun refused to let him near, it wasn’t just annoying.
It hurt. A lot.
But with Hoffenberg, something whispered to David’s inner nutcase: There’s no help for this guy. Run like freaking hell.
David glanced around the office, searching for something to do that would let him get as far from Hoffenberg as possible for any reason whatsoever.
Except that’s stupid. The man was a lawyer, for goodness sake. What was he likely to do? Litigate David to death?
But that was (a) ridiculous and (b) impossible, so David did the next best thing. He pretended nothing was wrong, detouring to the sideboard to fuss with already perfectly arranged sugar packets and stir sticks, tracking Hoffenberg out of the corner of his eye.
The panic button. Alun had told him to push it if this guy showed up again. But, for one thing, the way Hoffenberg blocked the path to the desk, David couldn’t get to it without a dodge and leap worthy of a parkour champ. For another thing, Benjy and his mother were in there. The last thing they needed was Hoffenberg going crazy-pants on a little boy and a woman.
What the heck good was a panic button if you couldn’t reach it?
Maybe if he could signal Benjy’s bodyguards, they could— Crap. They’re not here. Unable to justify more fiddling with the coffee paraphernalia, David took a grand tour of the waiting room, shifting magazines from one stack to another, brushing imaginary lint from the chairs, angling his approach to the other end of the desk where he could squeeze between it and the credenza and get at the button.
But every time he changed his trajectory, Hoffenberg countered with seemingly random movements as he examined each of the personal items on David’s desk. He picked up a whole handful of Peggy’s pastilles, tossed them all into his mouth at once, and chomped away, the sound in the silent room like the crunch of chicken bones.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to have that drink?”
Enough of this freaking dance. David stopped about two yards from Hoffenberg and took his best diva pose. “Look, Mr. Hoffenberg. I don’t want to offend you,” oh, yes, I do, “but even if my position here,” as Alun’s lover, damn it, once the big dope stops being so pigheaded, “didn’t preclude outside associations with clients,” especially bat-guano creepy ones, “I wouldn’t go out with you. I’m afraid
you’re just not my type.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” He set the empty candy dish back on the desk. “I guess I’ll have to convince you otherwise.”
Hoffenberg lunged.
Startled, David stumbled as he attempted to dodge, and Hoffenberg grabbed his left arm, twisting it up behind his back. David tried to shout for help, but before he could call out, Hoffenberg clapped a rough hand over his mouth, his erection hard against David’s ass.
“You’re everyone’s type.” Hoffenberg’s breath was hot and moist against David’s neck, and beneath the scent of mint and apple from the pastilles lurked a stench like rotten meat. “I saw that almost right away. Luckily for me, nobody else has caught on. You’re coming with me.”
No. No-no-no. That was not happening. David thrust his right elbow back, connecting with Hoffenberg’s ribs. Ow. David’s eyes watered with the pain, but Hoffenberg barely grunted.
“Go ahead. Struggle. I’ve heard it’s better that way.”
As he frog-marched David toward the door, David tried to dig his heels into the carpet, only to get his head wrenched back for his pains. He flailed, and his free hand connected with the sideboard, sweeping the stir sticks and sugar packets onto the carpet with a faint patter. He called Alun’s name, but behind Hoffenberg’s hand, it made no more noise than the coffee clutter.
“I should have been the next alpha.” He jerked David’s arm with a vicious twist that sent pain knifing from his wrist to his shoulder. “I will be the next alpha. All I have to do is fuck you to death.”
“An’ David says Chewbacca shoots a crossbow with light.”
Alun surreptitiously rubbed his chest as Benjamin related the perfections of his new treasures—and David. The boy had never spoken so much in a session, but Alun wished he wouldn’t mention David quite so often, forcing Alun to think about David when he needed most to forget him.
Tomorrow he’d contact Sandra Fischer again and ask her to replace David—however this time he’d provide a glowing recommendation rather than a complaint. Can I face an office without him in it? Goddess knew Alun didn’t want to, but he had no choice.
All day long, David’s presence had taunted him, the glow of his achubydd nature tempting Alun like a campfire on a winter’s night. Somehow, he’d resisted, and he must have inured himself to the sensation, because as the day had worn on, David no longer burned as brightly in Alun’s sight.
Alun shifted in his chair and rubbed his chest again as Benjamin launched a description of how Chewbacca was like Vanessa’s husband. Why can’t I focus? It’s as if I’ve got a bone-deep itch that can’t be scratched. If he were still a warrior of the Seelie Court, he’d have identified it as a looming threat, an enemy at the gates. But here—
A muffled cry of distress penetrated Alun’s shattered concentration.
David. No!
He surged out of his chair, causing Benjamin to clutch his toys to his chest and Teresa to gather her son and her purse in the circle of her arms.
“Forgive me, I—” He rushed to the door and flung it open.
Alun’s heart leaped to his throat. Amid a litter of plastic sticks and paper sugar packets, Jackson was forcing David across the room.
“Stand down!” Alun’s roar shook the windows. “If your pack finds out that you’ve threatened a human again—”
Jackson whipped around so that David was between them, his eyes wild above Jackson’s restraining hand across his mouth. “He’s not human. Anyone with half an eye can see it.” He twisted David’s arm higher behind his back. At David’s muffled cry, Alun’s chest burned, his vision narrowing as his battle instincts kicked in. Oak and bloody thorn, if he could get his hands on Jackson, he’d rip his arms off.
“Let. Him. Go.”
“Why? This is what his kind is for. Everyone knows it.” He giggled, a truly grotesque sound coming from a man of his age and size. “You’re pissed because you didn’t have the balls to do it first.” He pulled David’s head back, baring his neck. “On the other hand, a whole clan of achubyddion wouldn’t be enough to fix your ugly face. I guess you’d know—from what I hear, you already tried that.”
“Killing David won’t activate your shifter gene.”
“It will!” Jackson’s eyes glowed red. “It’s the only thing that will. I never thought I’d get the chance, but you gave it to me, Doctor. I guess therapy isn’t as big a crock of shit as I thought. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I have an achubydd to fuck.”
He backed up, step by slow step, David still held in front of him like a shield. Alun kept pace, but couldn’t risk a tackle—not with Jackson’s arm at David’s throat.
A small figure darted out of Alun’s office.
“Benjamin!” Teresa called.
Benjamin raised his hand and threw something. It landed on the floor behind Jackson’s left heel, and in his next step he trod on it, losing his balance. As he flailed to keep from falling, he released David.
Alun wasted no time. He lunged forward and grabbed David’s arm, shoving him behind him.
Jackson fell on his arse with a grunt, and Alan tackled him, flipping him over onto his stomach and pinning him with his hands behind his back.
“Here, Al—I mean, Dr. Kendrick.” David’s voice shook as he handed Alun a length of blue silk. His bow tie. Alun used it to tie Jackson’s wrists together, and hauled him to his feet. He shoved the bastard into the nearest chair, standing close enough to block any attempt at escape.
“David, the number for the Clackamas pack is speed dial seven. Would you kindly call and tell them that if they don’t come and pick up their garbage, I’ll see that it’s removed permanently.”
“One moment, David.” Teresa pulled her cell phone from her bag, her eyes glittering like sunlight on steel. “I’ll make that call. In case the Clackamas alpha should imagine that David is without protectors.”
While Teresa gave terse instructions to whoever was unfortunate enough to answer the Clackamas pack line, Alun glanced at David, who was standing next to his desk, his collar askew. “Are you all right?”
David nodded, but his face was pale, his lips pressed into a harsh line as if he was trying to hide their trembling. My fault. If this incident wasn’t evidence that Alun was a threat to David’s safety—Goddess, what was I thinking? I should never have let him return to work. In fact, he should have insisted David go into hiding the instant his true nature was revealed.
An uneasy silence descended on them all. Jackson had turned sullen, refusing to speak or even look at anyone—just as well. If he’d said one word or made a single move out of line, Alun would have gladly broken his neck.
Several minutes later, Hans and Joachim barged into the room, followed by two enforcers from the Clackamas pack. Alun yanked Jackson to his feet. “Let’s go.”
Teresa stepped forward. “With all due respect, Dr. Kendrick, this is a shifter matter. You must allow our councils to deal with it.”
“But—”
She grasped his forearm. “You may trust me to guard David’s interests.”
Alun nodded curtly. “Very well. Thank you.”
She followed Joachim into the hall, Benjamin’s hand gripped in hers. The boy stumbled along next to her, although he was staring over his shoulder at something on the floor. As the door closed behind them, David finally moved, retrieving the thing Benjamin had been staring at.
“What do you know?” He held it up in a trembling hand—it was the black-caped plastic toy. “Batman saves the day.”
David managed not to collapse onto the floor, but it was a near thing. He clutched the mangled Batman figure in his fist. Thank all the stars in the sky for fearless little Benjy. He glanced at Alun, looming by the door, scowling fiercely at his . . . shoes. Uh-oh. Not good.
“Thank you. For rescuing me. Although since Batman struck the first blow, I guess that makes you Robin. Or maybe Commissioner Gordon. Or—”
“Are you truly all right?”
David took a d
eep breath and attempted a smile. “Well, I—I could use a hug.”
“No.” Alun pressed his lips together and strode toward his office, cutting a wide berth around David. “It’s too dangerous. I can’t hug you or kiss you or—Goddess preserve me—make love to you again. If I do, you’ll die. Just like Owain.”
Anger chased away David’s residual shakes. He trailed after Alun, watching him heave papers into his briefcase and slam it shut. I could slam a few things right now myself—starting with some sense into Alun’s head.
“So what you’re saying is I’m not allowed to touch you—or apparently anyone—for the rest of my life? Jeez, no wonder the achu-whatchumacallem are extinct. They probably shriveled up and died from loneliness.” David took a step forward, and Alun countered with a step back, running into the corner of his desk. “How exactly did you get your PhD? Because you seriously need a lesson in causality. Owain didn’t die because you made love to him. He died because some . . . some psychopathic fairies murdered him.”
“You don’t know the whole story.” He walked past David, a good three feet away, to loom by the door.
David glared at him, fists clenched at his sides so he wouldn’t give in to the urge to pop Alun one right in the scowl. “That’s because nobody will fricking tell me the story. How many times do I have to say it? Ignorance does not equal safety. Ignorance equals ignorance, and that can get you just as dead.”
“How’s this? The first time I met Owain, he nearly died. He . . . he healed a stag that my arrow didn’t kill cleanly.”
“Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t know the whole story. Maybe animals are different than people. Ever think of that? Maybe he had low blood sugar or had just run a half marathon.” Or had taken one look at you and fallen in love, just as stupidly as I have, although he probably even passed out gracefully.
“I won’t take the chance.” Alun switched off the lights, jerking his head toward the door. “We’re leaving. Now.”
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