by Julia Mills
It was nice to know someone cared. She felt her spirits lift. “He’s a good friend,” she smiled and then added, “and a hell of a poker player.”
“I have been known to play a hand or two if the stakes are right,” he winked at her, all traces of the warrior gone.
“We usually play for shots. Can you handle your liquor, dragon man?” she joked, feeling more and more like her old self.
“You just wait, little witch, just wait and see.”
He grabbed her duffle bag and exited the tent ahead of her, being sure to stop and hold the flap to keep it from falling on her head. She thought a lot about all they had discussed as she rode back across the ocean on the back of his noble royal blue beast. Only her night vision allowed her to see the ribbons of green strewn throughout that added depth and reminded her why his family’s clan was called Blue Thunder.
Leaning forward to rest against the base of his neck, she let her eyes slide shut. No matter how hard she tried, she could not banish the hope that Rory was right, that she would still be his and Rian’s sister. That Royce would accept their fate. One thought followed her into her slumber; hope was a scary bitch.
CHAPTER FOUR
He and Rian stayed another day after Rayne and the others had headed back to make sure the younger Guardsmen were prepared to defend their lands until the conflict with the traitor was over. The Elders came to see them off, his Uncle Stefan among them, and looking none too pleased. After all the pleasantries were dispensed, he and Stefan moved to the side to speak privately.
Royce was the first to break the awkward silence, “I’m sure you heard about the newest development in Fate’s plan to ruin my life?” Royce asked.
“Ruin your life? Royce, my boy, you need to stop focusing on everything that is wrong and instead look at what is good. You have never been one to back down from a fight, nor have you ever been the bringer of doom and gloom…quite the opposite. You are the one that searches for the truth. You make others see reason, find the goodness, see the quest to the end. Now, because you are faced with a real challenge, one that hits at your heart for the first time, you are giving up, accepting an unfulfilled life without a fight. What a pity.” His uncle shook his head just as he had done when he was a boy and failed at learning some valuable lesson.
The shame Royce felt caused him to lash out, “I have not given up! I have accepted what is. You taught me that the Universe does not make mistakes, that Fate will not be denied. Did you ever think that might be a load of bullshit? That sometimes, something somewhere, just gets fucked up? That it is up to us to set it right? We were given free will to choose our path. I cannot find a way around the fact that she is a witch, a witch from the same coven as Ilsa. Remember her? The witch that murdered my mother? Then shoved a dagger into a baby before she even had a chance to draw her first breath? Do you remember, Uncle?” He spat the last words out with enough venom that Stefan actually flinched.
Several moments later, as Royce felt his temper begin to subside and the guilt of what he had just said began to rush in, his uncle spoke, “Yes Royce, I remember. But I remember so much more of your mother and of Ilsa than that one day. Don’t you? Don’t you have any happy memories to draw from, or are you so focused on your own guilt over what happened that you can’t remember anything else?”
Stefan could not have inflicted more pain if he had run Royce through with a sword. The truth of the Elder’s words rang throughout his entire body, and pointed out a fact he’d never realized. When he thought of his mother, he did only think of that day, of what he found when he entered that room, and he did feel guilt. Not just your garden variety, ‘oh shit I better never do that again’ guilt, but real, bone-deep, almost debilitating guilt. Sure he had family memories and his mother was always in them laughing, smiling, loving them all, but sometime between entering that room, finding his mother, and returning to the outside world, he had tucked every other thought of Riona away and replaced them with remorse that he could not save her and his sister and a need for vengeance against a woman already slain.
His head dropped forward and for the first time in his life he felt one hundred and fifty-six years old. Stefan laid his hand on his bicep and Royce could feel the Elder pouring healing energy into him. It was his Uncle’s gift, to be able to help heal the soul, and one of the many reasons he was so incredibly valuable to their kin. Royce finally raised his head and met the eyes of the man that was like a second father to him and the recrimination he expected to find was surprisingly absent, all he could see in the Elder’s light green eyes was forgiveness and hope.
His words only reinforced what his eyes already said, “You will get through this my boy. I have to believe you will learn to accept that sassy little witch for exactly who she is and have a chance at a life filled with joy and love, but she is not going to wait around forever. Kyra is strong and independent Royce, and you have hurt her. The choice is yours, it always has been, just don’t take too long to make it. I have a feeling your mate has even more determination than you to live a loveless life in place of forgiving you.”
Stefan’s last words rang in his ears the entire flight back home. As if that wasn’t enough, he and Rian entered Rayne and Kyndel’s home to find all the women crowded around Kyra, engaged in a heated debate. The sound of the door closing against the frame stopped the debate, but the glares and looks of complete disgust he got from Kyndel, Grace, and Samantha would have leveled a lesser man. They lasted for several tense moments, in which Royce prayed for one of his brethren to save his ass, but those losers simply left him to his fate.
Kyndel was the first to move, essentially ending the standoff, but he knew bigger trouble was on the way when her eyebrow lifted and her hands landed on her hips. Grace followed with the same stare he had seen her level at Aidan to win many an argument, and Samantha simply folded her arms. But the look on Kyra’s face and the way she quickly looked out the window to avoid even the sight of him was what made his heart ache. Was Stefan right? Would she leave before he could truly get his shit together? Was that what he wanted or did he want her and the promise of a future?
The glares continued and no one, not even his brothers offered any assistance. Hell, Rory even plopped his ass on a barstool and chuckled like he was watching football on a big screen. It seemed only the children were glad to see him. Jay, Rayne’s son, toddled over and grabbed his leg while Sydney, Lance and Samantha’s daughter, flew at him demanding to be hugged.
He picked up Jay and headed to the family room, a child on each hip. The conversation began again as soon as he had exited the room, and he fought the urge to use his enhanced hearing to eavesdrop. If they wanted to say something to him, they could damn well talk directly to him, at least that was what his bruised ego thought.
He knew he was messed up and knew the situation had to be fixed, but had no clue how to do it. To be honest, he needed five minutes where he wasn’t thinking about the steaming pile of shit his life had become. The kids were a great distraction. He pushed his wallowing away, and instead gave pony rides and played airplane until both children were yawning and cuddling in his lap. The thought of what it would be like to have his own children in his lap crossed his mind, but he quickly squashed the errant idea. How could he imagine children when he couldn’t imagine a life with their mother? I am truly screwed and have no one to blame but myself, was all he thought as he stood to take the children to their parents.
Samantha took Sydney and said good night while Kyndel hoisted Jay onto her hip, also saying her farewells and headed upstairs. Royce made his way to the fridge and grabbed a beer. As he leaned his butt against the counter, he realized only the men of his Force and his brothers were present. From the looks on their faces he was sure he was not going to like what they had to say. He was shocked when Lance was the first to speak, “Alright, old man, what’s up? This is your intervention. It’s obvious you feel the mating bond, hell, we can all feel it through you. You are repressing so hard, you are pushing out at us.”
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Everyone in the room nodded in agreement as Devon spoke, “I know you want to rip my head off every time I’m near her, even though you told me to watch after her. I can feel it. Your emotions are bleeding through to all of us.”
Royce looked from man to man as each nodded in agreement. Was what they were saying the truth? Had he repressed and avoided what he was trying not to feel for Kyra so much that he was projecting it to all around him? The truth of the situation was written on every face looking back at him. Not only was he screwing with his world, he was screwing with theirs.
“Shit!” He squeezed the bottle in his hand so tight that it cracked before setting it on the counter behind him. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. As soon as Andrew is neutralized I’ll head back to the caves.”
“Fuck that!” was growled from every Guardsman in attendance, but it was Rayne that stepped forward and spoke, “No, you will not. You will face this like you have faced every other challenge in your life…head on. I have fought by your side for more years than I care to remember and I‘ve never seen you doubt yourself like you are now. I gave you time and space to come to the right conclusion, but obviously you aren’t going to. Either you are too hard-headed or too blind to see what is right in front of you. As your friend and your Commander, I’m ordering to you to remove your head from your ass and do what needs to be done to rectify the situation you have caused.”
He and Rayne had been friends since the Commander had been barely old enough to hold a broadsword, and Royce could not think of a time that his friend had ever spoken to him with such disappointment and anger. Rayne was not the only one pissed; the hits just kept coming.
From the corner of the kitchen Aaron spoke, “Look old man, I know your issues, hell, we’ve all got ‘em, but this is your mate we are talking about, your future…forever, you get it? You get one shot at this shit, that’s it, no do-overs, no regrouping, one shot, and you are fucking up royally!”
Never one to keep quiet, Lance chimed in again, “Practice what you preach, Gramps. We’ve all had to listen to you be right about every damn thing under the sun for so many years that your monumental screw up now took us all by surprise. Trust me, I should be happy to see you be wrong, just this once, but I’m not and I’m not letting you screw up your entire life or Kyra’s. It was you that pushed me to claim Sam, even with all that was going on around us. Yeah, I cursed the very air you breathed, but in the end, as much as it hurts to admit, you were right. That woman is the best damn thing that ever happened to me, just like Kyra is the best part of you.”
Frustrated and feeling more than a little ganged up on, he spoke before he thought, “The best part of me? How the hell do you figure? She’s a witch with more power in her petite frame than any of us can imagine. What the hell am I supposed to do if she gets seduced by the dark like Ilsa did?”
He looked at Rian and Rory for help, but they only sat looking at him like he was a lunatic, so he continued letting all his feelings of bitterness and defeat fuel his words, “What will you do, you sanctimonious asshole, if she loses her shit and comes after your family? Sacrifices Samantha and Sydney right before your eyes.”
Royce spun around and nailed Rayne with a look of pure contempt, “Or you my dear Commander hear your beautiful wife call for help, so pained and helpless, and you arrive just in time to see the dagger plunge into her heart! Tell me, fucking tell me, what you wouldn’t do to keep that from happening?” He was shouting so loud he could feel the windows rattle in their panes. He looked from man to man, but they were looking over his shoulder with complete pity and untold compassion, not the anger he thought would come from his outburst. It was then that he heard a tiny sob, almost inaudible. That one little sound reached directly into his chest and squeezed his heart until he thought it would stop beating.
His rage forgotten, he spun around so fast that he almost knocked the table over. There, standing at the entrance to the kitchen, was Kyra, looking as if it was he that wielded the dagger. Her violet eyes were as big as saucers. Her tiny hands were covering her mouth but not stopping the heart-wrenching sobs that crossed her lips, or tears streaming down her cheeks wetting the collar of her lavender blouse.
Unable to stop, the need to comfort his mate a living being within him, he took a step in her direction. In response, she threw her hands up in front of her and shook her head until he thought she would fall from the force of her actions. Royce stopped where he was and his hand reached for Kyra of its own volition, while his dragon roared with the need to hold the one who was to be theirs.
His heart beat with such vehemence he was sure it would jump from his chest. He counted twenty beats while he stood gawking at the most beautiful woman ever created, even grief stricken she was absolutely perfect, and in those seconds it didn’t matter what she was, it only mattered that she was his. He tried to take another step towards her and this time she took a step back, her eyes widening even more. She’s afraid of me, he thought, and a sadness unlike any he had never known filled him. When she spoke he felt his heart break. Her words cut deep and true and the worst part was…he deserved them. Her voice was barely above a whisper and clogged with tears, “That is really what you think of me? That I could hurt a child? That I could hurt any of the people that I have come to love as much as my own blood…maybe more? You really think I’m a monster, don’t you?”
Before his eyes, she went from a wounded pup to fierce warrior. She threw back her shoulders, scrubbed the remaining tears from her face, and bunched her fists at her sides, ready to take on whatever foe came at her. Damn shame he was the enemy. Her next words rang clear and true, “I am not the monster, Royce O’Reilly, you are. You have a black heart, incapable of compassion or reprieve. A few moments ago I would have given anything, absolutely anything to have you forgive me, to have you accept me as your mate. I was willing to forfeit the very magic that runs through my veins for a chance at forever with you.”
Her breath came fast and heavy and he knew it was the fury he felt all around him. Before he could come up with anything to say, she took a step forward and shook her fist at him, “But no more. That fucking ship has sailed. I refuse to waste one more second of my life on you! I may never know the love of a mate, but I have the love of friends and family and that will sustain me for all of my years.”
She leaned forward slightly and he saw fire dance in her eyes. When she spoke it was deliberate and each word was another dagger to his heart. “I don’t want you, Royce. Your shit can remain your shit. Keep it forever. Let it fester and rot for all I care.”
He stood completely confounded, unsure what to do or say or even think. Then her last words reached his ears as she turned to leave, and what was left of his world crumbled, “We could have had it all, but you blew it.”
The minutes ticked by as he stood watching his future walk away from him and him unable to stop it. Kyra had hit the nail on the head; he blew it. Fucked up…royally, and it took losing it all to make him realize what a grade A asshole he truly was. Devon appeared at his side and the pity on his face was more than he could take. He knew there would be more of the same and they would all have some sort of advice that he really didn’t want to hear, so he did the only thing he could…he left.
The walk home was filled with a running loop of all that Kyra had said. The look of complete betrayal on her face and the pain that seemed to radiate from her every pore was something he would never forget, and he had caused it all, every last drop was his burden to bear. It wasn’t until he heard his boots hit the wooden planks of his porch that he realized he was there. He opened the door and none of the joy he had imagined at returning met him. For the first time since building his home almost eighty years ago, he realized how empty it was, that it was a monument to all he had thrown away in his own stupidity.
Sleep eluded him. He grabbed his hundredth beer of the evening and prayed that it would at least numb some of the anguish he felt, but it remained. The wooden floors of his home had a whole ne
w groove from his constant pacing. The sun came up over the horizon and the memories of having Kyra in his arms came rushing back. He relived the short time he had been with her, the only time he would ever be with the one meant to be his. He wished for his cave by the sea, if only to have the sound of the waves to calm his grief.
He had just stepped out of the shower when he heard the front door open and close. Rian called out, “You alive back there, Bro?”
“Yeah, let me get dressed and I’ll be right out.”
“Hurry the hell up, your breakfast is gonna get cold,” Rory added.
Great, it’s family bonding time, he thought. “Be right out,” was his only response.
He walked out to find a feast covering his kitchen table. “What’s all this?” he asked.
“Kyndel and Grace were up early this morning, cooking up a storm. I guess Sam had been at it too before she headed to the hospital with Devon in tow. We were in the guest room and the smell of these damned addictive blueberry muffins woke us up.” Rory popped a whole muffin in his mouth and groaned like it was manna from heaven.
“Ya’ll could’ve stayed here. Heavens knows there’s tons of room.”
Both brothers stopped mid chew and shook their heads. It was Rian that responded, “No way, Bro. You needed some alone time after the ass kicking you took.”
Rory spit orange juice halfway across the kitchen and then continued laughing until he could barely stand. Apparently, his loss and humiliation was funny to his younger brother. Just the thought of last night had him standing and throwing his half-eaten breakfast into the sink. Regaining his composure, Rory apologized, “Dude, lighten up. I wasn’t laughing at you. Grow the hell up. I just couldn’t believe that our diplomatic big brother, who reminded me to not mention what happened last night all the way here, just let it fly like that. I’m sorry I laughed, but you gotta admit that shit is funny.”