Dancing with the Devil (Wild Beasts Series)

by Birmingham, T.

  His chuckle against her mouth was the sound that made her heart soar as she came down from her high.

  “That was quick, Red.”

  “Long night,” she said. Because it had been, but Devon made it all better. All the time, he made it better.

  But he couldn’t fix what had happened.

  None of them could.

  Alexia and her Man Bear made love in their bed and he held her as their souls mingled and reknit and their bond brightened. Every time they were together, their bond deepened. Made her feel stronger, more herself and still more a part of a team as well.

  She fell asleep against the midnight chest of her fated mate.

  But she still dreamt of carnage and of death and of beautiful women with short, black hair lying in pools of blood.

  Four

  Wake

  It hadn’t taken long. Three weeks, and Gem was standing in the middle of her vision. Well, not in the very middle. She’d gotten her large tree trunk, after all. Made of various pieces of driftwood, it was a mangled, well-fashioned, unique centerpiece for her new café, Bean Me Up, Butterscotch. She smiled as she looked at the sign above the unique barista station, pulling out a tissue to blow her nose once again. Goddamn cold was persistent.

  She’d spent the past three weeks painting, overseeing the work being done by Devon and the other contractors, and looking at barista recipes and techniques. It had taken her the first week just to figure out all the machinery. YouTube videos were the enemy, but an enemy she kept close. Because without them, she’d have never known what the hell to do with the fancy espresso machine or the milk frother she’d bought. Milk frothing. Jesus. If someone had told her a couple months ago that she’d be worrying about frothing milk, learning how to work espresso machines, finding employees, and opening a café in Montville, New York, she would have called them crazy.

  She’d had the doorway expanded a few feet and instead of the two wood doors that had been there before, she’d installed three glass doors with French door shutters that she could close them up when winter hit full out. Today, though, she’d been blessed with a beautiful sunny day and 65 degree weather. Not LA, but she’d take it. She walked out one of the open glass doors, touching it as she stepped through and letting the warmth of glass heat her cold fingers. She stepped onto the brick patio, the front entrance to her café, and she sat on one of the outdoor furniture pieces Devon had made for her. Dark and light wood benches, hand carved tables, hammocks, and knit cushions from a local shop owned by a young woman and her mother. Colors and natural wood and so much comfort she thought her heart would burst.

  The cushion below her bum made her feel like she was snuggled into a new couch, and the bright sun as it beat down on her was like the warmth from the warm hearth of home. She’d had that on occasion while traveling, and she suddenly wanted a warm hearth, a home, a place where she could light a fire after a long day.

  She wanted to settle.

  And she smiled, her eyes closed, and her heart and mind at peace.

  “Hey, Trouble.”

  “Hey, Garrison,” Gem replied with a slight smirk as the strong voice of her new favorite bar owner coasted to her on the breeze. Still no sparks. Damn.

  She kept her eyes closed, but she felt his movements and the vibration of his chuckle as he sat close by. Damon had that presence about him. And if she believed in mind reading, which would be kind of cool, she’d have said the man had a talent because he always seemed to laugh at something she left unsaid.

  They were quiet. That was his way. Damon was the big brother sort, calming and steady. But also a bit dangerous, the way a good brother should be. He might call her Trouble, but she liked that they were so relaxed around each other. Gem wouldn’t admit to him out loud, though, that she’d come to think of him as a big brother these past few weeks.

  “You’ve got a lot of changes coming, Trouble,” Damon said. Gem opened her eyes and looked to the mysterious man next to her. His statement was said casually, but there was a darkness to him that made her stomach seize slightly in that age old pattern of gut instincts. Damon had both dark and light, reflected right there in those deep golden brown eyes that she’d rarely seen in her travels. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, her friend and honorary big brother had the good and the bad in him, and she couldn’t help but want to understand the many facets that made up Garrison Damon Trappe.

  “Wh-what kind of changes, Garrison?” she asked and her voice shook a bit. Now that she’d asked, her gut clenched in anticipation of his answer.

  His hand touched hers in a friendly manner, and he tucked her smaller, olive-toned one into his own. He wasn’t a tall man. Maybe 5’10”. But he was imposing, and his hands were enormous, or maybe hers were just the size of a child’s. Still, his hand felt comforting, rather than the predatory feeling she’d wondered at when spending time with him.

  He looked up at her, but he didn’t say any words. His eyes said it all. She knew. She’d felt it. Felt the shift. Felt the change. But she’d ignored it.

  She shook her head.

  “How-”

  She took a deep breath, cutting herself off. She couldn’t say it out loud. She took the tissues from her pocket and wiped at her nose, and she came away with more blood.

  “Don’t, Trouble,” Damon said forcefully. “Don’t lie to yourself.” She tried to pull her hand away, but his gentle grip became a little firmer and he lifted her chin, so she was forced to meet his gaze.

  “You know it’s not a cold, Gemini Lynn Harrington.” The gold in his eyes brightened and she couldn’t look away, because he was right. Damn it all. He was so right. She felt the tears leak out of the corner of her eyes, and she felt the truth of his words brush against her mind.

  And then her world fell apart.

  Her body was wracked by sobs, sobs that tore from her gut, from her heart, from her very spirit, as she realized what she’d been dreading and running from these past ten years had finally come back for her.

  “It’s not fair, Garrison,” Gem cried, and she realized she was crying into his shoulder, curled into his body like he was a raft she needed to hold onto in this dark time. And hell, maybe he was. Because she’d need a raft when all was said and done. “It’s just not fair.”

  “I know, Trouble,” Damon said, shushing her and rubbing her back while intermittently kissing the top of her head in a gesture of solidarity. She didn’t know how she knew this, but she felt the action in her soul. “I know.”

  She let herself cry like a baby in her new friend’s arms as the life-giving sun was absorbed by her exposed shoulders. She pulled away slowly when she realized she’d not be able to cry forever. She’d need to at least go to take care of things.

  “How did you know, Garrison?” How did he always know? What she was thinking. What she was feeling. Hell, what her body was experiencing even before she’d had the wherewithal to acknowledge it herself. He always seemed to know.

  “I think you know that, too, Trouble,” Garrison said, with a chuck to her chin. He gave her a kiss on the top of her head again, and backed away. But he didn’t leave.

  They sat in the sun for a bit, quietly. No words were needed. He could apparently read her thoughts, and now they both knew the truth.

  The cancer was back.

  The illness she’d fought for over twelve years had returned to wreak its havoc again, to tear apart her insides, to break her-

  She sucked in a haggard breath and blew it out, and Damon’s hand grabbed onto hers again in comfort. She held that hand with all the strength she could muster. She’d use that strength while she could. Because it would be gone soon enough.

  He left a little while later, and Gem made her way into the café, doing one last sweep of the tables. She had two interviews coming in this afternoon after school was out for the day. One college student from Montville University and a high school girl who had popped in a couple days earlier when Devon had been finishing up the tree. Gem felt bad now tha
t she hadn’t really paid attention to the girl, but damn, that tree…

  Gem looked at the twisted, knotted, beautiful piece of art. Why had she wanted it again? As a reminder that there was power in discovery? Well, some discoveries were heartbreaking, back-breaking, soul-breaking truths that wrapped around your spirit like barbed wire, weren’t they?

  She shook her head of the negative thoughts. She couldn’t afford to think that way. She knew what her treatments would be like, and she knew she’d need to have all the positivity she could muster.

  It was a good thing Marilyn had left her some money in a trust for the café, though. Once she’d chosen to open the travel agency as a café, she’d discovered the $150,00 left to her was actually for her to use on whatever she desired. Gem had used half as an initial investment for the café, but she now knew where the other half would be going. She tried not to think about the fact that she’d need at least four times that amount. The last time she’d been sick, George had paid for her treatments and he’d also had some of the best insurance. She wasn’t so lucky this time. She’d been blessed to have her job as a freelancer, and she was well known in the freelance community, but freelancing did not pay for health insurance.

  She’d figure it out. She always did.

  She walked into the little apartment in the back, which was really a studio. Less than 300 square feet of space, but it was hers. She owned it. She took off her leggings and her tank dress and threw her hair up with a clip. Her bra felt claustrophobic, so she tore at that too, ripping it off just so she could breathe.

  God, she just needed to breathe.

  Gem leaned all of her weight against the porcelain bathroom sink, let her head drop, and took some calming breaths. When she turned around, she saw her full body reflected in the gilded mirror she’d picked up in an antique shop in nearby Colchester. A little worn, but the mirror had called to her. Gold and silver designs on the outside that looked like scales and cat eyes… although, now that she thought about it, that might be the brain tumor thinking.

  She laughed sardonically, and then hiccupped as she was hit by another wave of sobbing. Her knees hit the floor and she let herself feel the soul-deep pain of a discovery she’d never wanted to tread upon again.

  Her visage wavered in the mirror and she swallowed down her sobs, shaking her head and lifting her chin.

  She could do this.

  She could do this.

  She could do this.

  Gem stood slowly, using the mirror to help her get to her feet.

  She showered quickly and put on her favorite pair of bleached and worn Levi jeans that had been with her all over the world. Their comforting presence might be superficial, but she didn’t honestly give a fuck. She’d take any comfort she could at this time. She threw on her UCLA sweatshirt as well. Hell, throw in some hot cocoa with marshmallows, french fries, and a burger, and she’d be in full on wallowing mode. So, instead, she put on some pink lip gloss, mascara, and bronzer, and she practiced her smile in the mirror until it felt like it was at least a bit real.

  Her watch read 3:30. Her first interview was at 4:00 pm, her second at 4:30 pm. Annie and Jerome. She’d need them both. She just hoped they were reliable. Hell, she’d need someone for earlier in the day too.

  She took a breath.

  She’d find someone. She could do this.

  “You’ve got this, babe,” Gem said to the mirror. “You can do this.” The repetition bolstered her reserves of strength. “You’ve not only done this before… you’ve survived it. And you might have a new business now, but you’re making roots for yourself, and this is not going to take you down.”

  She thought of the tree trunk bar in the center of her café and she smiled.

  Roots.

  She played piano keys against her legs and walked out into the café.

  Speaking of piano keys… Gem moved to the corner of the café where a recently tuned baby grand of solid oak sat. She hadn’t been able to turn it down when she’d seen it on clearance at the local university’s estate sale for their music department. She’d taken one look at the piece and had known to the edges of her timeless spirit that this had been meant for her.

  She sat down now, and the feel of the bench against her now cushiony bum, soon to be bony bum, made her feel steady. Her feet touched the pedals and she felt a peace move through her chest, like a balloon letting out all the bad air and being filled once again with fresh and new breath. She closed her eyes and let her hands move across the keys.

  She didn’t play a particular song; she just let her hands and her heart takeover and move across the keys in a rhythm her mind understood even in its illness.

  Her tears fell from her eyes, and she let them. It was not about gut-wrenching pain this time. This experience was about her music, her own power, her own ability to still discover beautiful things even when life seemed so ugly.

  She let the music bleed out of her, let her pain go with every touch of the keys under her tiny hands. She didn’t have the fingers of a piano player, but what the fuck did that matter in the grand scheme? Music wasn’t about anatomy. Music was about heart and soul and natural vibration. And she had those.

  She breathed out as the she ended her impromptu playing. Her tears had dried up long before. And her heart felt light and free.

  When she stood up to move into the kitchen, though, Damon, Alexia, and three others sat at a few interspersed tables in her café. She could feel the blush, and she knew even the slightly olive tones of her skin wouldn’t hide the red tinge.

  “Oh, Trouble.” Damon’s voice was at once consoling and proud, and she gave him a cheeky grin to override her embarrassment.

  Alexia and Damon stood to the side with the other strange man, but she avoided them for now. She knew her face was a bright pink, and she felt the warmth to her toes. She’d always loved getting lost in her music. The notes were her escape, and she’d needed to be somewhere else for a bit.

  She instead took in the other two – the darker boy with the dreads who looked about twenty and the girl with the most beautiful face she’d ever seen who also just happened to be a veritable Amazon. Tall and muscular and built. She was slightly larger than society would have called beautiful, but Jesus, Gem wouldn’t hesitate in labeling the young woman ‘gorgeous’. She smiled at her interviewees, quickly remembering their names.

  “Jerome and Annie, right?”

  Jerome nodded his head, and shook the hand she offered.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and she loved the contrast of the rough exterior with the manners he’d clearly had bred in him. It was refreshing.

  “Hired,” Gem said and winked at him. “I left your paperwork on the back table over there earlier. Go fill out the highlighted areas, will you?”

  He gave her a look that said she was crazy, but Gem knew people. And she knew he’d be good business. Dark looks. Bad boy appearance with a good man’s heart. His speed as he rushed to fill out the paperwork only made her feel better about her decision. A diligent, fast-paced, hard worker as well. Perfect.

  She turned her gaze to the young Amazon who stood, smiling shyly, a full eight inches taller than her. Annie was easily 5’9”, and Gem returned Annie’s smile admiring the contrasts between them.

  “Wow, Annie,” Gem said, on a loud exhale.

  The girl ducked her head like she was about to get criticized and Gem’s heart squeezed. She stepped toward the girl slowly, showing her that her height wasn’t intimidating. Gem had had taller girlfriends over the years, and they always seemed to try and shrink themselves. She waited until Annie met her gaze again, and Gem marveled at the girl’s unique blue eyes that looked like shards of ice and glass. So, instead she asked the one question she wanted the answer to.

  “Tell me, Annie. Why do you want to work at Bean me up, Butterscotch?” She held her smile, let it draw Annie in, hoped it comforted the girl. Because Amazon she might be, but she was also a child.

  Annie’s smile grew, mirroring
Gem’s and then she laughed a bit. Her laugh was short, quiet, stunted, but throaty and deep in a very feminine way. Gem wanted to hire her on the spot, but Annie needed to know she’d earned the job. She needed to know this wasn’t being handed to her out of pity.

  Then, her smile slipped as she looked around at the others in the café, and a nervousness snuck into her eyes. The shards of glass in her gaze brightened to a deep blue in some areas.

  “I-I-I-”

  She cut herself off and took a breath, but Gem was patient.

  Annie lifted her chin higher, stopped hunching in on herself, and looked Gem in the eye. There was something about her. That something different she’d sensed in Damon and Alexia, that something she’d seen in others during her travels. Annie was special. Instead of being frightened, though, she was comforted by that thought.

  “I need the money. I’m leaving this Spring. I hope that’s not a problem. But I need the money. I need the work. I need something other than-” Annie looked around and lowered her voice. “I need something,” she whispered pleadingly, and Gem got that.

  “Any experience in a café?”

  “No,” Annie answered quickly, “but I have excellent grades, I’m a hard worker, and I’ll stay as late as you need.”

  “We’re only open until nine and you’re under eighteen, so you’d need to be out at close.”

  “That’s fine.” Again, her answer was quick.

  Yes. Yes, she needed this.

  Gem looked her over once more, and although assessing, she tried to keep her gaze as comforting as she possibly could.

  “Annie-”

  “I need this job, Gemini- I mean Ms. Harrington. I need this. I’ll do anything you need me to. I’ll clean the floors. I’ll scrub the toilets. I’ll make the best Caramel latte with milk frothy shit you’ve ever tasted…” Her voice trailed off and her gaze lowered.

  Gem burst out laughing.

  “Caramel latte with milk frothy shit, huh?” Gem could barely get the question out, she was laughing so hard.