by Tami Lund
She counted heads: Killian sat in the seat next to Gaya, looking as sullen as ever; William sat in the bow of the boat, wearing a brightly colored scarf tied around his military-cut blond hair; Sydney sat in the back with a blond shifter.
Blond shifter? Gavin had dark hair–spiky, inky, black hair, as a matter of fact. And he was taller than this shifter, and maybe a tad narrower in the shoulders and waist. Where was Gavin? Why was Sydney huddled next to another shifter?
Had he let her go, after all, and Sydney finally decided to fulfill her destiny? This was exciting news to be sure, but Prim hardly saw how it warranted a personal visit to her island.
Unless Gavin hadn’t willingly given her up. Fates alive, was Killian bringing the Chala here to hide her from Gavin? Was he crazy? With the connection those two had, the cursed shifter would track her down, no matter how many leagues of ocean separated them. Prim’s secret hideout was suddenly in danger. Damn Killian.
She plastered on a smile and reached for the rope Gaya held in her hand. The shifter was there before she could grab it, standing next to her and expertly tying the rope to the dock.
“Um . . . Thank you,” she said uncertainly. He was terribly attractive, she couldn’t help but notice. Not an ounce of fat anywhere . . . well, maybe in one place. He wore well-fitted jeans and there was a definite bulge behind the zipper. If he wasn’t currently turned on . . . oh my.
Prim felt her face flush. She’d obviously been without a man for far too long, if she was admiring the physique of some random shifter she’d never met before. She didn’t have good luck with shifters, she reminded herself as she stepped away, giving them space so everyone could climb out of the boat.
Killian rushed to her side and embraced her far too intimately, while William walked unsteadily toward her. He wore a spring green muumuu over what looked like a one-piece swimsuit, and the color of his face matched his dress.
“Seasickness, William?”
“Plane sickness, boat sickness, you name it. I’ve never been so happy to see solid ground in my life. Hello, Prim. Thank you for your hospitality. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go freshen up. Where’s the nearest ladies’ room?”
“Er, Gaya will take you up to the house.”
William nodded and then continued walking up the dock, almost dainty in his slip-on wedge heels, despite his bulk. Prim turned back to the rest of her guests.
“Hello, Sydney,” she said, forcing her voice to remain steady and neutral. The last time she’d seen the Chala, she’d shattered the woman’s world by informing her that if she chose to stay with Gavin, she was spelling imminent destruction for her own race. And Prim had done it on purpose, in an attempt to get Sydney to walk away from Gavin and choose a Light One as her mate instead.
She’d felt mildly guilty ever since, because it was obvious that Sydney had strong feelings for her lover. Prim had loved a man once, when she had been human and still alive, but that was so long ago she barely remembered. But she had loved each and every one of her Chala charges, and she’d mourned their deaths as if they had been her own children. So she could understand Sydney’s reluctance to walk away from true love.
“Prim,” Sydney said stiffly as she stepped off the boat and smoothed the front of her T-shirt before tugging the elastic tie from her hair and securing it around a fresh, blond ponytail.
“Remember what I said, Sydney,” the shifter said, his voice practically a growl, dancing down Prim’s spine like nimble fingers, giving her a massage. She fought a shiver. What a strange reaction to the man’s voice.
“We have to play nice,” he said. “At least until she agrees to help.”
Sydney gave Prim a look that said playing nice would not be easy.
“Why do you need my help?” Prim asked. “And where is Gavin?”
Sydney flinched when she said his name. Something was wrong. Prim could feel it as strongly as if Sydney were her own Chala.
The blond shifter blew out a breath and bent over the boat, grabbing four duffle bags out of the bottom and easily lifting them over the side. Prim was glad for the sunglasses blocking her eyes, since she was blatantly staring at the play of muscles along his back and arms as he moved. She felt Killian’s disapproval as if he’d spoken out loud, which told her she wasn’t hiding her attraction very well.
“We have no idea where Gavin is,” the shifter said, pulling her out of the little fantasy forming in her head. “But we’re about to go searching for him. And you’re coming with us.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“No need to beg,” he said. When Prim scowled, he shrugged and then stabbed his finger in Killian’s direction. “Your buddy here thought it would be cool to release Gavin from his curse. So now you get to come with us to put the curse back on him.”
“What were you thinking?” Prim admonished Killian. She paused in the middle of leading the small group along a path of flat, smooth stones dotting the sandy landscape and glared at him through her sunglasses.
He at least had the decency to appear sheepish for a moment before attempting to defend his actions. “We’re all better off without him in the Chala’s life.”
“For God’s sake,” Sydney snapped, coming to a stop next to Prim. “My name is Sydney, not Chala. You’re as bad as Gavin was when I first met him. And for your information, no one is better off if Gavin isn’t cursed. Even I know that, and I’ve only been aware of this world for a few months.”
“Sydney’s right, asshole.” The massive blond Light One shouldered past the Fate, no doubt deliberately bumping into him and causing Killian to stumble and nearly fall into the sand. Prim turned her back on her colleague and followed the shifter and Sydney up the path toward her house.
Her house-on-stilts had been built to vaguely resemble a dogtrot home. The front entrance led into a wide, open-air courtyard, where colorful potted plants, a small koi pond and several cozy seating areas were arranged. Unless it was raining, Prim liked to take her meals out in the courtyard. The breeze off the ocean ensured it never grew too warm.
Two wings jutted off either side, and the kitchen was behind the courtyard. Each wing was like its own home. In truth, the house was more like a duplex with a shared kitchen in the middle; the only way Prim ensured her privacy, living on such a small island with a handful of other occupants.
The shifter and Sydney paused at the bottom of the wooden stairs leading up to the house. Gaya trotted down the stairs. Prim noted she’d managed to change into a skimpy sundress with a cinched waist, low neckline, and scandalously short skirt. Prim would have taken it for her own except she had almost a foot on the tiny brownie, and that hemline was short even on the five-foot female.
“I’ve made up another guest room in your wing,” Gaya said to Prim, before batting her large, brown eyes at the shifter. “I assume you wish for your own room?”
Did her tone sound hopeful? Killian, who had trailed along behind them, finally caught up and thrust his nose in the air as he swept by and started climbing the stairs, tossing over his shoulder, “I don’t suppose I could have my usual room?”
“Yes,” Prim said before Gaya could comment. It hardly mattered who had which room, and as upset as she was with Killian for lifting the curse, she had no wish to listen to him whine about the state of his sleeping quarters for however long her guests intended to stay. Which she desperately hoped wouldn’t be long.
Sydney followed Gaya and Killian up the stairs and the shifter thrust his hand at Prim. “Brandon Haines. I take it you’re Prim?”
“Yes. And I cannot leave.”
When she ignored his outstretched hand, Brandon leaned forward and snagged hers, pumping it twice before releasing it. “Nice to meet you, too, despite the circumstances,” he said.
“Are you listening to me?”
“No.” He star
ted to climb the stairs. Prim scrambled to follow.
“You don’t understand. I cannot leave.”
“Your little slice of paradise will be just fine without you for a few days.”
No, it won’t. “I cannot leave,” she repeated. He continued up the steps. When he reached the top, she said, “I haven’t used that curse since I put it on Gavin.”
He finally stopped and turned to look at her. She was momentarily taken aback by his stark, rugged handsomeness, which was startling all in itself because she wasn’t usually attracted to shifters, let alone ruggedly handsome ones. She had always tended toward men who were groomed and manicured and wore their shirttails tucked into the waistband of their pants, which were almost never jeans.
“That was two hundred years ago,” she continued. “And to be completely honest, I’ve only ever used it twice. The first time, it killed the shifter I cursed. It’s very powerful, too powerful for most minds to handle. The only reason I cursed Gavin in the first place was because I was so angry that he’d killed my Chala. Again.”
“Obviously Gavin’s mind can handle it,” Brandon retorted, a growl in his voice.
She hated that she found the growl sexy.
Brandon continued. “He’s been cursed for two hundred years and he’s not dead yet. Which Chala was it, anyway?”
“He’s actually killed a great many of my Chala. But the one whose death sent me over the edge was not even my Chala anymore. She’d already taken a mate, actually. Her name was Millicent Haines—”
“You were my mother’s Fate?” His voice rang with disbelief.
Prim stared at him. Millicent’s pretty, cherub face swam into her mind’s eye, and she compared it to the strong, masculine features glaring at her from a short distance away. Yes. She could see Millicent in Brandon’s features; in his eyes, in the way he pursed his lips, in his high cheekbones.
“Great,” he said, not bothering to wait for her answer. “Yet another incompetent Fate, and I have to rely on you to bring Gavin back into the fold. Fucking great.” Brandon strode toward the courtyard, ducking at the very last second to avoid getting beaned by a low archway, and then disappeared from sight.
With a small sigh, Prim stalked across the courtyard toward the kitchen, to discuss the evening’s meal with Brutus, Gaya’s brother, and Prim’s live-in hunter and gatherer. The brownie was an expert fisherman, and could catch whatever she requested with minimal effort, at any given time. Brutus and Brokk together created spectacular meals that, while devoid of red meat, were more delicious than anything she had eaten prior to escaping to her island paradise.
She knew shifters preferred their red meat, which meant Brandon would no doubt be annoyed upon learning he could eat nothing but seafood while he stayed on her island. Perhaps that would be enough to convince him to leave. Without her.
“Why are you so afraid to leave?”
The calm, feminine voice stopped Prim in her tracks. She hadn’t noticed the Chala slip into the courtyard. The last she’d seen of Sydney, she had gone off to check on William, who was still recovering from his bout of motion sickness.
Sydney stood there, haloed by the smooth, adobe archway that led into Prim’s section of the house. She wore a simple, pale pink fitted T-shirt, a pair of olive-colored shorts, and hot pink flip-flops. She had long legs and a willowy figure with only the subtlest curves. She looked like she’d scrubbed her face clean of any traces of makeup.
She could pass for a fifteen-year-old girl. Not at all Gavin’s type, if memory served. After he killed the Chala that Prim now knew had been Brandon’s mother, she’d made it her life’s mission to learn everything she possibly could about her arch nemesis. Among other things, she knew what type of female he liked to bed. Usually they were dark haired and overly well endowed, with hourglass figures and an expectation that led only to the next morning. If that.
Sydney was just about as opposite of Gavin’s typical type as she could possibly be. And yet he’d fallen in love with her just the same. Love really was a bizarre and uncontrollable emotion.
“What makes you think I’m afraid?” Prim asked. It was true, though, and she was surprised at the Chala’s intuition.
Chala were almost always born of other Chala, created for a single mission: to continue to breed more Chala and more Light Ones, in order to maintain the population. To make their jobs even more difficult, not all females born of a Chala were Chala themselves. Standard female Light Ones were rarely fertile, hence the Chala’s responsibility as a baby-making factory. Light Ones were the protectors of humanity. Without them, the Rakshasa would be free to dine on humans at will, and would eventually decimate the population. The Chala’s responsibility was an important one. For all of humanity.
Chala, although they were technically Light Ones, did not have the ability to shift. Instead, they had a small amount of magic that, when honed, could be used to help them protect themselves from a Rakshasa attack. Few practiced their magic, though, because they always had either a Fate, most of whom had a great deal more magic than a Chala, or their shifter mate to protect them.
Sydney, from what Prim understood, had not only honed her magic, but she’d trained in hand-to-hand combat as well. And she’d participated in at least one battle and had come out alive, although it hadn’t exactly been on purpose, and Gavin no doubt refused to let her do so again. She was far too precious a commodity, to him and to the pack they led. But if she had to, Sydney was prepared to defend herself, and that was what really mattered.
Too bad the Fates and Light Ones hadn’t thought of that tactic several hundred years ago. Maybe Sydney wouldn’t be the last one left, and it wouldn’t be as big of an issue that she’d chosen to mate with a cursed Rakshasa instead of a Light One.
“I can tell,” Sydney said, walking further into the courtyard. “Why wouldn’t you help us, otherwise?”
“Do I really need to go through the list of reasons again?”
“They all boil down to you being afraid. You’re afraid to leave this island. You’re afraid to go after Gavin. You’re afraid to try to curse him again. Basically, you’re just afraid.”
“I am not male, nor a shifter. Taunting me into helping won’t work,” Prim retorted.
Sydney shook her head. “I’m not taunting you. I’m just pointing out that the only reason you won’t help is because you’re afraid. And the only way you’ll actually conquer your fear is if you do help us.”
“I don’t particularly care about conquering my fears. If I have any fears to conquer,” Prim added tartly.
“Have you ever been in love, Prim?” Sydney asked softly.
Yes. With every one of my Chala.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because if you’ve ever been in love, then you would understand how I feel right now. It’s like . . . like a part of me is missing. I feel like my life is empty right now. My heart feels the most empty of all. And it’s not just me. Gavin is an integral part of our pack. He’s our leader. Those shifters are completely disorganized without him. Do you think that’s the best sort of protection for the last remaining Chala in the world?”
“I think it’s terribly ironic that your pack is led by a Rakshasa.”
“A cursed Rakshasa. One you cursed. One you can curse again. If you just stop being afraid.”
Prim pursed her lips and balled her hands into fists at her side. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said stiffly. “I need to speak with my chef and check on dinner.” She hurried through the arched doorway leading to the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder and then sagging with relief when Sydney did not follow.
William caught up with her an hour later, after she’d reviewed the dinner plan with Brutus and Brokk and then retired to her private suite, if only to avoid her houseguests. It made her infinitely nervous that they were here at all, and sh
e should be hovering over them, ensuring nothing bad happened, but she couldn’t do it. She needed a little distance, at least for a few moments. Unfortunately, William wouldn’t allow her those moments.
“Sydney tells me you are refusing to help us, Prim.”
William had changed out of his green cover-up and instead wore a bright yellow halter-top and a matching flounce skirt. An ocean of hairy, thick abdomen was revealed between the two pieces. His wig was black and straight, and his lips were coated with hot pink gloss. William was the size of a football linebacker. The result on anyone else would be comical. On William, it was just . . . William.
Prim watched as he wandered over to her vanity and inspected her makeup.
“It isn’t that I’m refusing, exactly. It’s just that I’m not sure I can help,” Prim allowed. She and William had never been particularly close, but she’d never had issue with him, either. She had a healthy dose of respect for him, because he’d been able to hide a Chala in plain sight, at least until Gavin had discovered her. Since Gavin had been cursed at the time, the discovery had resulted in the two of them falling in love, instead of him trying to kill her.
Until now. Now that Killian had reversed the curse, Gavin would come after Sydney with a renewed vengeance. And because of his connection to her, he would find her. He would kill her without an ounce of remorse.
“How in the world did Killian manage to release him from that curse? The man never studied, never read any of the reference materials the First provided.”