“I know.”
He blinked at me. “Did you know that Garrett won’t be the only one who wants to grab you?”
“Figured that one out too. My DNA is everybody’s wet dream.”
“You can’t just go walking around like you’re safe. You have to protect yourself.”
“I know that too. But I’ve lived my whole life to suit somebody else’s psychotic ideas about me, and I’m not doing that anymore. Somebody wants to come after me, they’ll find out I won’t go quietly. I’m not giving up my life.”
“Beck,” he started.
I held up my hand to cut him off. “Is that why you stayed up drinking instead of cuddling up with me?”
He flushed and swallowed jerkily. “You’ve been through hell. How was I supposed to tell you it’s just beginning? And your families don’t to want me around. They’re going to do everything they can to pry me away so they can bring you into their folds.”
“Yeah? Well, it is what it is. Haters are going to hate, and I’m going to have to deal with it. Presupposing you aren’t giving up on me?” I had to admit the possibility had me worried.
“Not a chance.”
He pulled me into a gentle embrace, his lips brushing butterfly soft against mine. It hurt but I didn’t particularly care. I leaned into his heat, delighting in the hard strength of his chest and the way his arms held me as if I were the most precious thing on the planet. I opened my lips and our kiss was crazy hot. Delicate, tender caresses ignited a fire in my belly and made me want to throw myself into his arms. My fingers tightened on his shoulders where I’d grabbed him for balance. I lifted myself on tiptoe, but he still wouldn’t give in to the harder kiss I craved.
By the time he pulled away, I was panting and all my girl parts were aching to be touched and fondled. The lack of a bra only increased the sensitivity of my breasts. He’d run his hands along my back and discovered my secret. I was pleased to see he was breathing just as hard as I was.
“A walk,” he said and I couldn’t tell if that was a reminder or a question.
“Or?” I asked, standing on tiptoe to run the tip of my tongue along the top of his collar. His pulse jumped and danced beneath the caress, and his arms tightened convulsively. It hurt but I wasn’t about to let him in on that secret. He’d just push me away, and I really didn’t feel like stopping this right now.
“Or I take you back into the bedroom, strip you naked, and make you feel really, really, really good.”
He punctuated the reallys of that statement with hot little kisses along the sensitive tendon of my neck. I shivered and gasped.
“If that’s an argument against walking, it’s a good one,” I rasped as tremors started running down my legs.
He sighed and rested his forehead against mine, his hands sliding down to settle on my hips. “As much as I want to have my wicked way with you, I’m pretty sure you’d regret it, and I don’t think my heart could stand that,” he said.
God, did he have to put it that way? I couldn’t even get mad, even if he was right. Well, maybe right. Just now, I wasn’t certain about anything except I had aches that I knew he could make feel a lot better and I desperately wanted him to play doctor with me.
“You’re probably right,” I said but made no effort to push away. “But then again, you could be wrong.”
“Don’t tempt me, Beck. My control is very, very thin.”
I decided that we both probably should step back from the precipice. When we went over—when I went over—I wanted to choose it and not let my hormones do it for me.
Sometimes I hated me.
We took Ajax over to the park where I’d met Ben. I wondered how he was doing. I was glad he had gone home before Garrett went Norman Bates. He’d certainly have killed Ben and chalked it up to collateral damage. I’d been shielding myself since I learned how and made a mental note to send a big thank-you to the young doctor-to-be for teaching me. I’d have to get Damon to teach me to anchor it to something so it would work 24/7.
We stopped at a coffee cart and then walked around the park.
“We missed our dinner date,” I said.
“We’ll make it up tonight.” He glanced at me. “Or whenever you feel up to it.”
“I’ll feel up to it,” I said, determined that I would. “How’s Mason doing?”
“He’s good. It took a little work to counter the mesmer dust, but no long-term effects as far as I can tell.”
“That’s good news.” I was getting to like Mason. So far, anyhow. It’s not like I knew him all that well.
We kept walking and I deliberately went for small talk. Just about every conversation we’d ever had focused on my family or magic or some other crisis. I barely knew anything about Damon. I asked where he’d gone to school, his favorite foods, hobbies, dream travel vacations, all the while veering away from any discussion of the contract-baby system or any other landmines.
Damon seemed just as happy to keep it low key, asking how I’d met Stacey, Lorraine, and Jen, and how I’d learned to cook and my favorite foods.
We strolled around the park twice, with Ajax sniffing and peeing and watching squirrels skipping across the ground and barking at him. On the way back, I noticed a new exhibit display for my favorite local museum. They tended to get eclectic and unusual exhibits that were always fascinating. This one was the history of oil drilling in California. The display board had photos and captions describing some of what could be seen in the exhibit.
“Wow. There are tons of working oil derricks in L.A. In people’s backyards, even. Look, there’s one in a shopping center.”
I continued to examine the photos and read the captions. I’d just looked at several similar photos when a realization struck me.
“Oh my God! I know where they are! Come on!”
I whirled and started running back toward the hotel. Every jolting footstep sent a spasm of pain through my chest and head, but I didn’t care. I wanted to hurry to see if I was right.
Damon overtook me in just a few strides. He didn’t try to stop me to question my sanity or anything else. He just kept up.
“What are you doing?”
I was out of breath. My ribs refused to let me breathe, so I could barely talk. “Aunty Mommy’s house. I know where she hid them.”
Damon didn’t ask any more questions. When we got to the hotel, he asked the valet for his truck and then gently rubbed my back as I continued to wheeze.
In a few minutes, we were spinning down the road. But not headed toward the Wicked Bitch’s house.
“Where are you taking me?” I decided not to be mad yet and to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’d proven himself more than once in the past few days alone.
“Going to make a stop at the sanctuary. I know,” he said as I started to protest, “you don’t want to go in. That’s fine. I’ll go grab some water and bring it back. You’ll be glad I did, and it won’t take more than twenty minutes.”
It took twenty-five, but who was counting? By the time Damon returned to the truck with several sport-sized bottles of water, I was climbing the walls. Wordlessly he handed me one.
“You too,” I said. “For your hand.”
He took a breath as though about to argue then shrugged and started drinking. I followed suit. When I was done, he held something out.
“Here. The buddha sent this for you.”
On his palm was an orange-red rock about the size of a runt walnut.
“What’s that for?”
“I don’t know. He just said to give it to you. He likes you. Wants to protect you.”
I frowned at it and then took it. It was cool but almost instantly warmed. It turned to liquid and then circled my middle finger and hardened into a ring. It continued to radiate warmth. I went to take it off, but Damon wrapped my hand with his.
“Leave it on. Maybe it will help you heal along with the water. The buddha has been very worried about you.”
I remembered that night in the pool,
listening to the buddha talk and decided Damon was right.
We headed in the direction of Aunty Mommy’s. This time Damon wasn’t content to be silent.
“Where do you think the gargoyle females are?”
Excitement sparkled inside me. “Hiding in plain sight. Did you see how they built towers and buildings around the pumpjacks in L.A. to hide them? That one by the high school was all covered with pretty flowers. That made me think about the Wall. It’s big enough, and plenty close.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a possibility. Close but the magic it would take to keep the gargoyle males from sensing their mates would be astronomical.”
“More than Aunty Mommy was capable of?”
He shrugged. “Hard to say. There’s always the possibility that she had outside help to set a containment spell. Mason’s sure she had help to create the dimension bubble for her secret office. I want to warn you we need to be very careful about getting inside the Wall. That kind of magic could do a lot of damage if improperly released.”
“Bring it on. I’m done letting the Wicked Bitch do damage,” I said. “She doesn’t get to fuck with me or the people I care about anymore.”
“Unfortunately, dead or not, she may not agree.”
“Good thing I’m not asking her, then.”
There were five cars parked out front of the massive house when we pulled in. I recognized the gray BMW Mason had been driving, but none of the other four. Damon parked behind a lemon-yellow Jaguar. We got out and Ajax went and peed on the Jag’s rear tire.
“Who else is here besides good ol’ mom and dad?”
“An attorney, a few others.” Damon kept his gaze on the house.
“What’s wrong?” He’d clamped his teeth so hard, he might break them. “Damon?”
“Everything’s fine.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. I can tell.” It irritated me that he didn’t want to share, but I didn’t push. He was entitled to a few secrets. I’d certainly kept plenty from him, and he had little reason to trust me. It still hurt, though.
“Let’s get this over with,” I muttered and stalked toward the grand entry.
Damon strode along beside me, and I could feel his tension rising. He’d squared his shoulders and thrust his chin out, the muscles in his arms and chest tightening. He had all the bearing of a man walking into the middle of a war zone. What was he expecting?
“Do my parents get along?”
“I don’t think getting along applies,” he said cryptically.
I stopped and turned to look at him, my hands on my hips. “What the hell does that mean? And this time, how about a straight answer?”
He considered his words, obviously trying to sort out an answer. “Their relationship came about because of a birthing contract. They conceived swiftly and lived together non-romantically or sexually until the birth. The participants in a birthing contract never think of each other as man and woman or friends or anything else. They are simply short-term business partners. I doubt they’d met each other more than a few times before the contract was signed, and after Osterraven’s shenanigans, I doubt they’ve had any since then. Under ordinary circumstances, they would be neither friendly or unfriendly. However, given all that’s happened with your birth and kidnapping, there is tension.”
The way he said the last word was loaded with meaning that I couldn’t understand. “I don’t suppose you want to clarify? Because my head hurts and all this birthing contract crap is making it worse.”
He pursed his lips. “The politics at play between the families means that their friendliness or lack thereof is not a matter of personal choice but politics. You’re about to step into the world of the ruling families, Beck, and you’re going to hate it.”
“Tell me something I didn’t already know.” I folded my arms over my chest, wincing as pain spiraled down my rib cage. “Are you suggesting I can’t handle this?”
For the first time since we’d left the sanctuary, he cracked a smile. He reached out and brushed a few loose strands of hair from my face. “Oh, no. You will handle this. You’re just going to come out feeling like you bathed in horse shit.”
“Better than dog shit, any day of the week. Come on. Let’s go get this over with.”
This time I grabbed his hand, linking my fingers between his. I kind of felt he needed the support. He disentangled himself.
“You probably don’t want them seeing us together like that. It could make things difficult.”
I scowled. “Why is it any of their business?”
His lips curled. “Like I told you before. They don’t want me with you. I’m not of the proper class for you to consider as a sexual partner. In case you should get pregnant.”
“And chalk another one up under ‘sentence I never imagined I’d hear said.’ I take it that means that they don’t like your mutt bloodlines and I shouldn’t be slumming?”
“Something like that.”
Anger swarmed through me. Who the hell were they to judge Damon? He was beautiful, brave, kind, generous, thoughtful and a whole lot of other things any child could hope for in a father. Not that my DNA donors cared about actually parenting. Well, they could go fuck themselves, and I was going to tell them so. That’s when I got an idea. I chuckled wickedly and grabbed his hand, dragging him forward. “This is going to be so much fun.”
I could have sworn I heard him mutter, “Oh, shit.”
The staff was still off. I opened the door, and we went inside. Somebody had cleaned up Garrett’s spell circle. The wall I’d smashed him against was still caved in. Other than that, there was no evidence a psycho had ever been planning a killing spree here.
I was more in a hurry to check the Wall than meet my DNA donors, but I didn’t get a choice. They were in the garden room with Mason and four other people. Mason pounced on me before we’d taken two steps into the room.
“Beck,” he said with a huge smile. He pulled me into a hug. “I’m so glad to see you up and about.” He stood back and looked me over, frowning. “That looks ugly.”
“Hurts too,” I said. “Worth it, though. I’m glad nothing happened to you.”
He sobered. “I’m afraid you may be less glad when I tell you what I’ve done.”
I reached for Damon’s hand. “Oh?”
He pulled a thick envelope from the breast pocket of his blazer and held it out. “I’ve signed over everything that belonged to Adriane to you.”
I stared at the envelope as if it were a cobra. I looked back up at him. Hurt and betrayal drilled through my heart. I don’t know why I should have been surprised. Or why it bothered me so much. My eyes started to burn, and I blinked furiously. I absolutely wasn’t going to cry.
Mason stepped toward me, his voice dropping. “I did this because it’s the right thing. Give it all away if you like. There are many charities that would be grateful. I know you hate this house, but keep in mind that the gargoyles are bound to this place. I know you would want them to have a safe home. You could give that to other creatures as well. You could create a rescue haven here.”
I hadn’t thought of that. I could do a lot of good, and if I sold this place to someone, if they had any taste at all, they’d pull down the gargoyles and sell them or more likely, destroy them. I couldn’t let that happen. Not until I figured out how to free them from their binding. I wasn’t convinced it couldn’t be done. Lots of impossible things happened all the time.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the envelope, and then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You are a gem,” I murmured. He looked startled but pleased. I looked at Damon. “How do you feel about being my lawyer?”
“I already dumped all my clients. I’m all yours.”
I frowned. “Seriously? All of them? Why?”
He shrugged. “Mason is—was—my primary client. He took most my time.” His hand tightened on mine, and his blue eyes were deeply earnest. “I can’t have any conflicts of interest. I need you to trust me.”
�
��I do.” I handed him my envelope. “I’ll let you handle this, then.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a wink and slid it into a pocket.
“Let me introduce you around,” Mason said. “This is Ethan Osterraven, your father, and Elena Wyler Symms, your mother.”
My mother looked a lot like Aunty Mommy, though softer and warmer. Definitely less militant. I tried not to hate her on sight, but it was hard to separate her from the woman who’d tortured me all my life. Elena dressed in flowing green designer clothing. She looked elegant, her eyes thoughtful in an oval face, her expression vaguely wistful. When I tried to meet her gaze, she averted her eyes.
My father was tall with light brown hair threaded with silver. He had a bold face, angular with a square jaw and was well preserved for his age. In fact, he was quite handsome. He eyed me with a certain amount of speculation, as though looking for flaws. He seemed to like what he saw well enough because he developed a pleased smile that was in no way fatherly. Then his gaze ran down to where Damon and I held hands. A furrow dug between his brows.
“Welcome to Hell,” I said to them. “Did Mason show you the basement? You’ve got to check it out if not.”
“My sister was not kind to you,” Elena said.
“Now you’re not giving her enough credit. Your sister was an evil bitch who got her rocks off torturing me,” I said. “But that’s water under the bridge now that she’s dead. I never did pick up her ashes from the crematorium. Was planning a grand funeral too. Something super tacky with a dash of trailer trash and a giant cherry of hillbilly on top. I was so hoping to make her spin in her grave. Well, if ashes could spin. You get the point. Anyhow, if you want what’s left of her, you’re welcome to it. Save me the trouble of flushing her down the toilet.”
I was talking a mile a minute, obviously confusing both of the ’rents. I wasn’t what they’d expected, though you’d think that my little e-mail to the Proclamation Server would have given them a hint. Maybe they’d thought this little reunion was going to be one of those Hallmark moments where the child runs into the loving arms of her long-lost parents. Not that there were any loving arms around here. Except maybe Damon’s.
Putting the Fun in Funeral Page 32