by Lexi Ander
A’ymon held Gabe’s hand, too long in Sūnder’s estimation. He snarled a warning, pulling Gabe back into the circle of his arms. To the High Druid, Sūnder said, “I expect an explanation before the conference, or I shall not bring Gabe near those who wish either of us harm. Having him in the same room as Tālia…” He scowled at the thought of what might happen. “I won’t allow her close enough to touch him.” He didn’t want Gabe anywhere near Tālia or her family, ever, but if it was necessary to be in the same room as they, he would insist on certain precautions beforehand.
Gabe patted Sūnder’s chest. “I’m a big boy, Sūnder. I do wish everyone would stop calling me little. I am tall for a human, you know.” Sūnder was stuck between wanting to laugh and wanting to snarl.
Paulo approached, weariness in every step and the set of his ears. “Are you ready to leave, Commander?”
“High Druid, you and I will speak in depth before the meeting.” Leaving it at that, Sūnder guided a disgruntled Gabe toward the waiting armored hovercraft. He itched to be away from this place, somewhere he could relax his guard and perhaps even convince Gabe to cuddle with him.
11
GABE HAD TO put some space between himself and Sūnder. He felt hot, as if his skin were stretched too tight. His lungs didn’t want to work. He needed room, fresh air, to be by himself. He barely waited for the guards to clear his building before he clambered out of the vehicle. Without looking back he said, “Stay here. I won’t be long.”
Taking great care, he walked into the warehouse, entered the elevator, and rode to the third floor. When his door closed behind him, Gabe turned all the locks with trembling hands. The panic attack was right there on the edge of his awareness. He fought against losing control as he tore his bloodstained clothes off, stumbling across the loft to the bathroom. Slopping toothpaste on his toothbrush, he climbed into the shower and turned on the cold water. Scrubbing his teeth and tongue, he stood under the icy spray, fighting panic and the memory of purging some unnatural thing just an hour or two before. The image of it fighting to escape the sealed bag wouldn’t let Gabe go no matter how he tried to force it into the back of his mind. That thing had been in his body.
There was sure to be video of the fight at the park, too, by one or more bystanders. What was he going to do? Where would he go? He couldn’t stay in his loft; he no longer felt safe in his own home. If— no, when he was identified, too many people would find him there. Could he go with Sūnder? Did he even belong in Sūnder’s world, where trees walked around? The sight was both awe inspiring and horrifically frightening. That was abnormal, wasn’t it? Trees on Earth weren’t supposed to talk, or understand human speech, let alone walk. Things like that only happened in books and movies. What the hell was he supposed to do?
Only when his teeth began to chatter did he turn on the warm water. The room spun. Gabe placed a steadying hand on the tiled wall, squeezing his eyes shut as he hung his head, concentrating on slow breaths. He couldn’t believe he’d clung like a barnacle, like a terrified child, to Sūnder after he climbed out of the tree. Gabe snorted. He didn’t climb anywhere; the tree put him down. Gently. And how could he pull toxins off Sūnder’s light, no, his soul? What was wrong with him that his body could process the pollution and turn it into whatever he threw up? His mind skittered away from what was actually in the bag, the dark forms that had moved. Why, when he was desperate to help Sūnder, would his whispered words compel the trees near him into action? But that wasn’t exactly correct either, because the tree had him up on its own in the first place. Without him saying anything. Why? It wasn’t like he came from another planet. His parents were human, born on Earth just like him.
Gabe washed and rinsed methodically, barely drying off before pulling clean clothes on. Grabbing the biggest duffle bag he owned, he threw what he thought he’d need into it, and then included things he couldn’t part with because he didn’t know when he’d be able to return. He’d slip out the back and use the fire escape in the alley to disappear. He could go to Ronan’s place, or maybe Ronan’s parents’. Who would think to look for him there? He wasn’t due back at work until a few days after the Festival. He could stay inside and lay low. Sūnder would go back to Slorèx, and be safe.
Or would he?
Gabe paused in his hurried packing, his gaze caught on a couple of crimson strands of hair left on his pillow. Half the people of Sūnder’s world were afraid of him, wanting him dead because of what he was, and Gabe had an idea of what caused the darksouls among faeborn males. It seemed logical to him, but no one else had worked it out, or were even trying to. If he walked away, would anyone else step up and help? He could send an anonymous letter to Sūnder’s father explaining what might happen, what to look for. Warn him to keep Sūnder from trying to cleanse any more of that weird pollutant. But what if Sūnder thought he had to? Sūnder balanced nature, so who was Gabe to say that Sūnder wouldn’t take a chance and thus become tainted once more? Who would guard Sūnder, and cleanse him when the contaminants dimmed his light? If it poisoned his soul, darkhunters would have a valid reason to murder him.
Perhaps he should stay long enough to make sure Sūnder remained safe. How long would he have to stick around, though? From what Paulo had said, Sūnder wouldn’t lack for lovers when he returned to Slorèx.
Yes, but you’re the one who makes him happy. You’re such a coward, running because you’re scared. Just like your parents.
Gabe sat on the bed and pulled the pillow into his lap. Unable to resist, he brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. Sūnder’s scent still lingered, strong and thick. Something about the smell caused Gabe’s shoulders to relax, his frantic thoughts to smooth out. If he could bottle this smell he’d be rich. But the thought of another enjoying Sūnder’s scent made him gnash his teeth. That courtiers would be clamoring to crawl into Sūnder’s bed made him sick to his stomach, and then angry. They wouldn’t care for Sūnder. He bet none of them could make Sūnder smile, or had heard him laugh. The thought of Sūnder taking a mate who wasn’t him… hurt, much more than it should because he hadn’t known Sūnder very long. Heaven help him if he fell in love with Sūnder. He would be too vulnerable, too exposed, something he’d striven to stay clear of since he was sixteen.
You’re already falling in love with him, you fool. Why do you think you continue to make excuses to keep him around? The question is, what are you going to do about it?
What was he going to do about it, indeed.
Gabe had planned to run. He’d almost let fear make the choice for him. Even before all this had started he’d made a list of reasons to hold Sūnder at arm’s length. And yet he’d allowed Sūnder into his home, into his bed, anyway. Sūnder had gifted him with a view of nature that was beyond spectacular, even though what he’d seen frightened him. Now Sūnder knocked at his heart. And Gabe was terrified.
Sūnder was unlike anyone Gabe had ever met. For the first time, Gabe wanted more than the soft feelings of adoration he’d shared with his previous partners. He wanted to fall deeply, madly in love with someone, and he wanted that someone to be Sūnder. What would Gabe do if he fell in love but Sūnder didn’t return the feeling? What if Sūnder only wanted a couple of weeks of bedroom fun before going home?
No matter what, he’d do what he could to make sure this ‘darksoul’ business was corrected; Sūnder wasn’t the only faeborn male at risk. After that, if Sūnder didn’t want anything more than friendship, well, he would see if he could handle only being Sūnder’s friend. After he nursed his broken heart.
Taking one more whiff of Sūnder’s scent, Gabe stood and zipped up his bag. He needed to water his plants, then contact Ronan to let him know where he’d be and ask him to watch after the loft while he was gone. A panicked Ronan could get scary. Gabe dropped his bag on the couch, and was crossing the room to the kitchen when the front door gave way like someone had used a battering ram on it, the doorframe splintering and cracking, engaged locks and all, and it swung inward to bash
forcibly against the wall, the rubber doorstop lodged in the plaster. Sūnder stood in the entryway, chest heaving, arms akimbo, roaring like a wounded lion, his expression one of utter agony.
What on Earth was wrong? “Sūnder?”
“You’re leaving me,” he snarled. His lips pulled back, exposing every one of his sharp teeth.
“What? No. I needed to water the plants before I left.” Sure, he’d thought about it when he walked through the door, had actually planned to run, but he’d been panicked and afraid then. He didn’t feel much better now, but at least his mind was clearer.
Sūnder sniffed the air. “Liar. I can smell it… you… your scent. Tell me the truth!”
More terrified than angry, Gabe held out his arms, aware Sūnder was frantic. “Then come smell me and tell me what my scent says.”
With the same swiftness Gabe had witnessed on the battlefield, Sūnder was suddenly there before him, his hands fisted in the front of Gabe’s shirt. More worried about Sūnder than his dignity, Gabe didn’t balk when Sūnder lifted him up and buried his nose in Gabe’s neck. Wrapping his legs around Sūnder’s waist for stability, Gabe grasped Sūnder’s forearms and held on.
Sūnder trembled under his touch, his face pressed to Gabe’s skin. “I thought I could be patient and woo you. Court you, go as slow as you wanted. I want to be your friend and your lover, your mate of choice, but I’ve found I’m not that strong. I want you for my mate, Gabe. I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want to scare you away. I thought two weeks would be enough time to convince you to come with me, to stay by my side. Then I scented your need to flee in the hallway, and I thought… thought you’d be gone.”
“Then you busted down my door.” Despite the chastisement of his words, Gabe’s tone was deliberately calm, soothing. “I’m not going anywhere, Sūnder. And neither are you until someone comes and fixes it.”
Sūnder groaned, licking a line up Gabe’s neck. “Your scent… I want you to be mine, only mine.” Sūnder released one hand from Gabe’s shirt and wrapped it around Gabe’s waist.
Gabe couldn’t hold back the shiver that worked up his spine. “That’s something we’ll need to talk about, but not here, not now.” His legs straining to hold him up, Gabe wrapped his arms around Sūnder’s neck. That seemed all the encouragement Sūnder needed to wrap his other arm around Gabe.
“I’ve called for someone to come repair the door.” Over Sūnder’s shoulder, Gabe saw Paulo standing in the entryway. “We’ll leave two knights to guard the loft until it’s taken care of, but we need to move the two of you out of here soon.”
Gabe gave a nod to indicate he understood and, arms still hooked around Sūnder’s neck, pointed to the couch where his duffle bag sat. “I need to water the plants first.”
“I don’t want to let you go,” Sūnder grumbled.
Unlocking his legs from around Sūnder, Gabe pushed gently to signal he needed to be put down. “It will only be for a couple of moments, you big baby.”
Paulo coughed into his fist, then, when Sūnder turned to glare, hurried to pick up Gabe’s bag.
With a little coaxing, Sūnder agreed to help him. However, Sūnder’s tail stayed wrapped around Gabe’s thigh, and a hand remained on the small of his back as he moved from pot to pot.
The plants seemed different today; they almost hummed with happiness. Perhaps it was his imagination. Still, the calm, soothing atmosphere was exactly what he needed.
When they’d finished, Sūnder grasped his hand firmly and Gabe allowed himself to be tugged out of his loft toward— Gabe didn’t even know what. What he did know was that as long as Sūnder wanted him by his side, Gabe would stay. Whatever the future held, he would face it. No more hiding.
No more running.
He would immerse himself in Sūnder’s world, learn everything he could, so the next time someone decided they were going to purge the world of Sūnder’s “darksoul”, Gabe could hand them their ass and make them wish they’d never attempted to lay a finger on his Sūnder.
A’ymon called him “Guardian”, so that was what he’d become.
12
GABE HAD THOUGHT his clingy, overly possessive behavior with Sūnder earlier had been over the top, but after they left the loft Sūnder tucked Gabe against his side, hovered, and remained constantly in contact, as if he thought Gabe would disappear. For the moment he didn’t mind, because Sūnder’s heady scent and the feel of Sūnder’s skin against his own soothed his frayed nerves. With Sūnder filling his senses, Gabe’s frantic thoughts finished smoothing out into something more coherent. He no longer felt as if he was going to fly apart any second, despite the fact he desperately needed time and someplace quiet to absorb everything. But first they had to make their way to Sūnder’s warship, which wasn’t as easy as Gabe had thought it would be.
Barriers had been erected on either side of the street, two blocks before the gated entrance to the Chándariān embassy. The police redirected pedestrians and traffic away from the embassy; it didn’t look like they were letting anyone in. The armored vehicle Gabe and Sūnder rode in stopped at the checkpoint. Would the police turn them away, too?
Shimmering, coral-toned L’fÿns lined the barrier, some flapping colorful squares of cloth, others yelling and waving, their faces tear-streaked. The dròw were stoically stony faced, but they watched the caravan of armored vehicles with keen gazes.
“Can they see in here?” Gabe asked, worried that with so many L’fÿns in one place they would attempt to overwhelm Sūnder’s knights and murder him.
“No,” Paulo said. He sat across from Gabe. “They can only speculate on who the vehicles carry.”
“Who are they waiting for? They seem really excited. Well, except for the dròw. They look like your knights, as if they’re guarding something.” Gabe leaned closer to get a better look. Were these dròw connected to the SilverHands, the same group who’d helped Sūnder earlier?
Sūnder pulled him away from the window. “Gabe, it’s not safe.”
Gabe scowled. “Why not? They can’t see us.”
Paulo cleared his throat. “Because the darkhunters who ran—”
“The ones yelling? I didn’t understand a thing they were saying.” He’d thought they were just as astonished as he that the trees were moving.
“What Captain Paulo was trying to say is that they ran away announcing the blessèd return of the Guardians.” Sūnder nuzzled the side of Gabe’s head affectionately.
That sounded weird. A’ymon had called him ‘little Guardian’, and treated him reverently. Surely the darkhunters hadn’t been talking about him. Should he be afraid?
“I don’t understand. They all wanted Sūnder dead. What does a guardian have to do with anything?”
“Not all L’fÿns are violent,” Paulo pointed out. “Most of them are peaceful, tender souls. DarkHunters are a different sort alto—”
“And the dròw, they fought with only their hands. It was vicious.” A shiver worked up Gabe’s spine as he recalled how A’ymon had twisted the head off the darkhunter who’d attack him.
“What you saw is not the norm for the general L’fÿn or dròw population. Most dròw are peaceful, although reclusive compared to L’fÿns,” Paulo continued. “You are correct, in a way: silverhands are more aggressive, fighters like darkhunters are.” He motioned to the people at the barrier. “Most L’fÿns are nonaggressive; they abhor violence, instead using other measures to enact change.”
Gabe barely kept from making a rude noise. He didn’t buy it. When he’d researched Chándariāns online after first meeting Sūnder, he’d read some seriously disturbing rantings. “L’fÿns follow superstition blindly enough to have committed multiple acts of infanticide instead of thinking logically. You can’t tell me they wouldn’t still be killing babies if the king hadn’t taken such strong steps to stop it.”
Paulo didn’t comment. Really, how did anyone go about justifying such a thing when the perpetrators were supposed to be pacifists?
A short time later, Chándariān security stopped them at the embassy gates. Paulo said the vehicles would be scanned for bombs, which surprised Gabe.
A Faelÿn guard approached Sūnder’s window, and Sūnder lowered the tinted glass. Claw-tipped, furred fingers gripped the door. “Good afternoon, Prince Sūnder.” He carefully looked Paulo and Sūnder over, and then met Gabe’s gaze.
Gabe had never seen a Faelÿn before, and couldn’t help but stare back. According to what he’d read, their society was considered primitive compared to Panthrÿns and L’fÿns, and they rarely left their homeworld, so he hadn’t ever expected to, either. Especially this close. Panthrÿns ruled all Chándariāns, and were smooth skinned with feline features: ears, tail, eyes, teeth, and retractable claws. Faelÿns leaned more toward the animal they resembled, with pelts of fur, more prominent muzzles, and sharp, feline teeth. The guard’s uniform seemed to be designed more for ease of movement than modesty, revealing that he was covered in a light golden fur all over. His nose and mouth jutted out, reminiscent of a domestic feline’s facial structure, and his oddly articulated legs would likely allow him to drop and run on all fours if he needed. Unlike Sūnder, who had to peel his lips back for Gabe to see his sharp teeth, the Faelÿn’s two eye-teeth were long enough to rest over his bottom lip. The guard’s resemblance to Earth’s large felines was broken by his lack of obvious ears and the two large, ram-like horns high on his forehead that curved to point backwards. From the thick bangles on the male’s wrists to the long, white crest of mane between his horns, the Faelÿn was fascinating.