by Dee, Bonnie
“Mark?” Donovan’s voice was disbelieving.
“No, the Destroyer.” Though having never met this Mark, she had to wonder. But if Donovan had complete trust in him, who was she to argue? “Such malevolence has to take a while to build for it to be so pervasive. It’s probably a good thing Jenalee was entertaining.”
He nodded curtly and placed his hand on the small of her back as they descended the stairs. The gesture warmed her in a way no words could have.
They hit the street and stood beside the Jag.
“So now what?”
“My house, I guess. Given what’s happened so far, it’s a good thing I’ve been living at an apartment down on the waterfront for the last few months because we were so busy. No one will think to look for us at my ‘real’ house, at least not for a day or two. Our speed run accomplished that much, at least. I’m looking forward to sleeping in my own bed again.” He smiled, and it was a slow, smoldering thing that made her tingle from head to toe. “With you.”
“Hmmm,” she answered noncommittally, despite the hum riding through her, and slid into the passenger seat. She’d been easy last night because it was what she’d wanted at the time. Predictable wasn’t something she wanted to add to her repertoire.
Donovan reclaimed the driver’s seat and sent her a bemused look, but said nothing. It was probably just as well. She could think of nothing better than spending the night in his arms, but having him wonder about it would make the sex all the sweeter.
They slid through the gloaming, leaving the lights of the city behind. Brenna gaped as they crossed the Golden Gate, her eyes drawn to Alcatraz, to the stubby Coit Tower, to the soaring signature of the Transamerica Building. The sun lowered into the Pacific, setting the cloud-streaked horizon on fire. How different this was from Boston and the Atlantic, with its storming fury and wintry nights.
She was so lost in the beauty of the skyline she barely noticed as they drove into the seaside town of Sausalito, then into the driveway of an unremarkable cottage.
“Yours?” she asked, pulling her attention from the seascape to the absolute last place she would have ever imagined a superficial, money-loving Terran living. They got out of the car and she looked around the lot with interest.
“Yeah. Surprised?”
“A little. I don’t know, when you told me you were a corporate bodyguard I guess I expected something a little ritzier. Like maybe the apartment you were describing.”
“Huh,” he grunted, giving nothing away as he unlocked and opened the front door.
“I like it,” she murmured, her gaze skipping over the wall of framed family photos, the comfortable living room, the entrance to what looked like a homey kitchen. “This is your place, not some pre-fabricated designer’s dream.”
He looked at her, one eyebrow raised in question.
“What? Just because it’s not what I expected doesn’t mean I appreciate it any less.”
He shifted on his feet, and the uneasiness of the movement was endearing. Yeah, she was beginning to like Donovan Callahan a whole lot.
“I need to call my family, let them know we made it.”
“Oh, yeah. Phone’s on the table over there. Are you hungry?”
“Ravenous. You’ve got food?”
“No,” he grinned, at ease again, “but I have an extensive library of take-out menus. Chinese sound all right?”
“Damn straight. Tell you what, get the food first, then I’ll check in.”
“Deal.”
Brenna followed him into the kitchen, appreciating the clean lines, but a bit surprised by the veritable forest of herbs thriving on the windowsill.
“So you don’t cook, but you’ve got an herb garden?” she asked. The dichotomy was … interesting.
“Earth Element genes. I’ll show you the backyard tomorrow.” He picked up the phone, rattled off an order, then broke the connection and handed the receiver to her.
A Terran Protector with a green thumb? Now she’d heard everything. It, for no other reason than curiosity, made her want to meet his family. If Donovan was any indication, it would be an interesting experience.
“Hi, Dad. We made it safe and sound to San Francisco. Is everything okay there?”
“We’re eating lobster.” His voice smiled. She could picture the family together and felt a pang. This would be the first Christmas she’d ever missed.
* * * *
“Happy Christmas Eve, Brenna.” Donovan toasted her with a stein of Anchor Steam. At least he’d had beer in the fridge. After all, to him, it was a food group.
They sat on the floor of his living room, the ancient seaman’s chest that acted as his coffee table between them.
“And to you,” she clinked glasses with him and drank deep. When she pulled the mug away a fine mustache of foam covered her upper lip.
Gods, how he wanted to lean across and lick it away. But she’d kept a firm bit of distance between them since this morning, and he thought he knew why. Their coupling last night and this morning had been fast and furious, and a woman like Brenna wasn’t something to be gulped in one sitting, but sampled and savored over the long haul. Experimented and played with until they were both too weak to breathe. Which is exactly what he planned on doing over the next seventy years or so.
He snagged a spicy shrimp from the take-out container with his chopsticks and thought about the vagaries of fate. How strange was it he’d be mated to a fiery Warden and not a biddable Terran like Jenalee? Bringing Brenna around to his frame of mind was exactly the kind of challenge he’d relish. And if decoding the Sorhineth made the task easier, then who was he to argue? It was almost amusing … the thing that had driven him to Boston in the first place was now a distant second to wooing the woman who would share the rest of his life. How bizarre was that?
“Penny for your thoughts.” Brenna popped a piece of Kung Pao chicken into her mouth, then slid the chopsticks slowly out, catching the spicy sauce on her tongue.
Every bit of blood in his body shot straight to his dick. “Huh?”
She smiled at him, a bit of witchery in the expression. “I said, penny for your thoughts.”
“You really don’t want to know.” He angled his glance at the chopsticks, then at her mouth, and licked his lips. “Or maybe you do?” He made the statement a question.
She laughed and Donovan was shocked into silence. He’d never heard her laugh before, and it called every base urge to the forefront. He wanted her laugh wrapped around his cock, the way it had wrapped around his heart.
“Maybe later. We’ve got work to do tonight.”
“Uh, yeah, work,” he mumbled, gaze still locked on her mouth, brain fully engaged in his little head.
“I’m serious. We’ve skimmed enough of the Sorhineth, but after what we felt at Jenalee’s, I’m worried.”
She got his full attention. “You know I’ll protect you.”
“I have no doubt, but this Destroyer is stronger than the two of us combined.”
“What?”
She shrugged, a graceful move of her shoulders that shifted her blonde hair around her like a cloud. “I’m not sure why I get that impression. It’s not like I’m schooled in this whole lore thing either. It’s just something I feel, especially after Jenalee’s place. I don’t suppose there’s anyone here in San Francisco who can help us?”
Her statement was a cold dash of water on his ardor. He’d never really considered exactly what to do with the Sorhineth once he got his hands on it, but now he knew exactly who to go to. “Yeah, I have someone in mind.”
“And who might this someone be?”
“Claire Galliardi.” He saw the miffed expression that crossed Brenna’s face at the mention of another woman and hastened to qualify his statement, even as it warmed him inside. She was jealous, maybe only just a little bit, but it was a start. The woman was going to be a handful—one he was looking forward to … handling. “She takes care of our IDs now, took on the job from her father. If anyone
knows about the history of the Terrans, she will, especially since she’s a Keeper herself. She’s also someone I trust implicitly. If you’ll remember, I mentioned her briefly in Boston.”
Brenna appeared mildly mollified. “That’s right. So much has happened since then I forgot. But why do you need IDs? Can’t you just get the usual?”
Donovan shifted. There were obviously many things they needed to learn about each other. “Do you have any idea how old I am?”
She frowned. “No. I assumed you were close to my age, maybe a bit older. I don’t know, thirty?”
He laughed, but took care to make it gentle, not mocking. “Your grandmother never wrote about our aging qualities?”
“No.”
Now her tone was short, and he wondered if she thought he’d been laughing at her. So he chose his words with care. “Terrans are longer-lived than humans, and because of that, have a need to recreate themselves every twenty or thirty years to blend into the population. While I may appear to be in my late twenties, I was, in fact, born in 1900.”
“You’re shitting me. You’re eighty-nine?” She barely held onto her chopsticks.
“Yes. I was but a babe when the first big earthquake hit this city, and my parents were instrumental in bringing the city back to its original glory.”
“So, ah, how long do you usually live? Do you ever show your age?” The questions came out rapid-fire now that he’d piqued her interest.
He smiled. “Most Terrans live to be a hundred and fifty or so, but we begin to age equally with humans in our sixties. Therefore, while I look twenty-nine now, I’ll age just as you do for the rest of my lifetime.”
She digested his statement slowly. “So your parents…”
“Look to be in their early sixties, though each are decades over one hundred.”
“So that’s why,” Brenna mused.
“Why what?”
“Why no Terran has visited my family in over a century. They forgot about us.”
Donovan dipped his head in acknowledgement. “And KOTE was perfectly happy in building a power and financial base after the 1906 earthquake. Now, they don’t care for anything but the money and prestige anymore.”
“And this Claire?”
“She was raised at her father’s knee, and knows every Terran in the region, in addition to having a pretty significant library. There are more sects scattered across the world, but from what I’ve heard, when it comes to Terrans we’re it in America. Why mess with success?”
*
Brenna leaned back on her hands and considered him over the cardboard cartons and still-steaming food.
Who was this man, this Terran, who had lived through almost a century of American and world politics and news? Had he also lived a lifetime of love? Why did she care?
For the first time the chasm of their cultures really yawned before her. The Terran intrigue she’d worried about before was now so small as to be insignificant. She shook herself inwardly. She’d enjoy her time with Donovan Callahan and then return to her semi-normal family back in Boston, her semi-normal life as head librarian, and look for more with a man who was of the same freakin’ species.
Chapter Six
Claire Galliardi was a gamine pixie, looking more like a sweet sixteen than the octogenarian she probably was. And any reservations Brenna might have had about “sharing” Donovan was quickly dispelled as the Terran scampered over to the man in question and gave him a wet kiss on the cheek, then drew Brenna into a hug.
“The Warden! This is so exciting!” She was a ray of sunshine in the dark, now foggy night. Brenna warmed to her instantly, for she sensed no malice, simply curiosity.
Claire’s house was as plain as Donovan’s, at least in the dark of night, and Brenna supposed it made sense, if she made a living at falsifying documents. Pounding rock music pulsed from the monster speakers towering in each corner, decorating the air in notes that were almost visible. Metallica’s Enter Sandman. How appropriate.
They’d ditched the Jag, driving into the city in Donovan’s simple Ford pickup instead. From his house to his truck to his actions, Donovan was exactly the opposite of everything she’d been led to believe by her family.
She’d discovered once Donovan’s mind was engaged on a subject, he was damn near unstoppable. Right now his subject of choice was finding out more about Terrans, specifically the Destroyers. She should have expected it, with that marvelous brain, but he continued to surprise her at every turn.
“I’m more worried about the Destroyers than how cool it is we’ve found the Warden.” Donovan answered Claire with a straight face, but his eyes sparked with humor.
“Of course.” Claire whirled, heading to a conspicuously blank wall. With a few muttered words and a quick flash of her hands, the “wall” dissolved, revealing a passageway into a hidden room. “Come on in.”
Brenna goggled at the display of power, and Donovan leaned in, whispering “Air Keeper” in her ear. Now that made sense, given what she’d discovered over the last few days from both Donovan and the journal. Regardless of what she’d learned, it was still freakin’ cool.
Donovan had been right; Claire was true, even if she was connected to KOTE at a higher level. There was an air of rightness about her which made handing the Sorhineth to her seem perfect. So she did, careful to keep a wary eye on the precious tome, regardless of what her gut was telling her. In the tiny house, keeping her within nine feet wasn’t a problem.
They followed her into a room crowded by books and bustling with high-tech equipment. Brenna’s mouth watered as she coveted the books, all obviously old beyond imagining. This made her reference library in Boston look like a bookmobile. When she reached out a hand to touch, Claire stopped her in mid-motion. “Hold on a sec, they’re all bespelled.”
Brenna snatched her hand back, moving only after the Terran mouthed a few indecipherable words and then gestured her forward.
“Normally I don’t let anyone touch my books, but since you brought me this,” Claire ran loving fingers over the Sorhineth, “I figure it’s tit for tat.”
Brenna laughed and pulled out a slim tome entitled, A Compendium of Species, 1600 to Present. Intrigued, she flipped open the fragile cover and stifled a gasp. Surely this couldn’t be true…
Donovan had settled into an armchair and was watching her with an inscrutable expression.
“Is this right?” she asked, running a finger carefully down the index, calling out the names she recognized. “Banshees, changelings, demons, dragons, fairies, incubi, djinni, vampires, werewolves, witches … so many more.”
“Oh yeah,” Claire chirped, “but we don’t see too many of them. We’ve left each other alone for a long time, and since KOTE became insular back in the thirties, after Black Monday, I doubt they’ve even contacted us.”
“But … dragons?” This was almost too bizarre to fathom.
“Last I heard there was a clutch in northern Montana and southern Canada, but they keep to themselves for obvious reasons.” Claire’s voice was distracted now as she began to pore over the Sorhineth. “I’m pretty sure there’s a sect of demons down in L.A., though, if you’re interested.”
“Ah, no. I think I’ll pass on that one.” Brenna glanced at Donovan, who’d stood and stepped forward.
“Get comfortable, lhiannan. We’re likely to be here for a bit.”
Claire’s head came up sharply at his use of the Gaelic word, and she shot Donovan a questioning glance. He shrugged and pushed Brenna down into the chair.
Brenna eyed him mutinously. He’d tell her what the word meant … tonight.
Their host dropped her head back to the Sorhineth, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like, “Dad would have loved this,” before immersing herself once again.
* * * *
An hour later, Donovan covered a sleeping Brenna with a blanket, carefully tucking it in around her body. When he straightened, Claire regarded him with a measuring gaze.
“Your mate
?”
His chest swelled with pride and ownership. “Yeah.” As if something this monumental could be summed up in one word.
“What about Jenalee?”
“What about her? It’s never been more than friendship with a little sex on the side.”
Claire hummed. “Let’s just hope she thinks the same. You know how she gets when she’s pissy.”
“Please, she’s down in Mexico with Mark right now, probably screwing his brains out. Jenalee is what she is, and the whole crew has always known it.”
“Maybe, but just be careful.”
Donovan narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Because she’s powerful as shit, that’s why. She hides it behind a ditzy ‘star’ front, but it’s there. You need to remember she’s one hell of an actress, she always has been. She’s recreated herself several times since television became a staple and still pulled it off.” She paused, tapping a finger on her chin. “So … your Warden doesn’t know yet?”
“Like you’re one to talk about the airhead act. As for Brenna, I’m trying to figure out how to break it to her. She’s not a woman who’d just blindly accept something like being mated, especially to me. I get the impression she’s not all that thrilled with Terrans as a whole, and I can’t say as I blame her.”
“Based on what I’ve seen and sensed, you’re right. Tread carefully, Donovan, otherwise you might lose both of them. Are you ready for a full-scale bonding?”
Donovan nodded, even as he wondered if she wasn’t right about both. “I intend to keep what’s mine.” He dropped into the armchair. “So what have you learned? And don’t tell me about the Destroyers being Terran, we already figured it out. It was not a bright spot in my day.”
She sighed. “I’m not surprised you didn’t know … it’s not something we brag up. Heck, I’ve never even met one that I know of, and you’d figure I would, considering my job. Just be very careful with any Terran right now, since we can’t tell the difference.”
“But we can, or at least Brenna and I can. When I went into her place I felt something ‘off’, but I really recognized it at Jenalee’s.”