by Sadie Sears
I could give her this much. I stood, strode to the door and into the hall because I wasn’t a guy who overstayed his welcome.
Except I was. No way was I going anywhere because I couldn’t walk away knowing someone out there wanted to hurt her. Or scare her at the very least, and that wasn’t something I could walk away from. Maybe if she wasn’t my destined mate, but probably not even then. Most especially not now.
So, back to the porch. Fine. I’d sat in tons of chairs less comfortable than the wicker set with the American flag design on the cushions. And the longer I sat, the more this whole exchange bothered me.
At minute one, I was moderately annoyed. I’d mentioned the claiming bite not to change her, but to heal her. Make her feel better. Big difference. An entire world of difference. I was certain there was no magic involved that would drive her off the deep end, and if I wasn’t, my brothers would’ve found it.
By minute fourteen, I’d simmered into a slow boil. Was it some New Age, yogi rite of passage to suffer through life? Some kind of physical suffering equaled the reward of a higher level of consciousness kind of thing? Bullshit. And hooey. Minute fourteen wasn’t one of my most productive, but it served to stoke the anger building in my gut, working its way to my chest.
But it was minute twenty-seven that brought on all the self-pity. I felt like no one cared how hard I tried to help, or the unprecedented lengths I would go. This wasn’t some grand revelation for me, either. I had years of examples to back up the poor-Leath argument.
Starting way back in the early 1900s with an ashram where I’d been assigned protector for a bunch of yogis. I’d been the guy who shielded them from mystics intent on their destruction. They repaid me by turning their coats—or their gowns if we were going to be specific. Same result no matter what we called their little dresses. They’d pitched in, abandoned their peace and love mantras, and tried to kill me.
Then there was the up-and-coming country singer and trust fund baby in the seventies. After one hit record about cowboys and broken hearts, she moved to a commune, claimed she was happy living in her community trying to reach a new spiritual plane with nothing but her crocheted clothes and hemp sandals. She turned over all access to every one of her accounts—the trust fund included—then grew a bit dissatisfied when she discovered she’d been swindled. I swooped in, like a hero, got her out of there and managed to convince the little bald-headed weasel who screwed her over that giving her money back was in his best interest. She’d ended up marrying the guru of ganja, and I was dismissed from duty.
That one was two-fold proof I was right. She’d fallen for some metaphysical twaddle and then forgot to be grateful when I fixed the problem. Apparently, telling her she could’ve used the money for a couple of voice lessons had negated any good I’d done and convinced her he was the man for her.
There were other examples, but minute twenty-seven’s pity party didn’t need more encouragement, especially since I was on her porch by dawn’s early light mumbling to myself like a fool. But a hundred and sixty plus years was a long time to wait for the one woman I was meant to be with. And she was a head case. A few bananas short of a bunch.
Why couldn’t destiny have found someone normal for me? Someone more level-headed about a claiming bite that would solve everything for her, including her stalker problem. Not only would she be pain and disease-free since dragon blood repelled illness, but she would be fearsome, fierce. No mortal man would be dumb enough to mess with her once she turned.
As I suffered through to minute thirty-one, a pair of headlights lit the porch as Sam’s truck turned into the horseshoe driveway in front of the house.
He shut off the engine, but Gretta was already out of the truck with her black house-call bag, and on the porch. She smiled but didn’t stick around to chat. I felt the same way. I needed to be with Lila. I just wasn’t allowed.
Sam, a to-go cup of coffee in each hand, not a care in the world relationship-wise, jumped onto the porch and held a cup out to me. I took it, flipped the top open and before he could sputter out a warning about how hot it was, I guzzled the scalding brew. He handed me his cup, and I repeated the process. I needed the caffeine boost; throat burn or not.
“Long night, buckaroo?”
I shot him a glare. The truth was, I needed someone to talk to before my chest burst open. Sam wasn’t just a good listener and conveniently available, but he’d had his own share of problems a few weeks ago. There was a reason I’d been going to see him the other day. Maybe his rocky start with Gretta could give me some insight into her sister. “I think destiny got this one wrong, Sam.”
He pursed his lips and cocked an eyebrow. I’d seen his version of the doubtful look before, and I didn’t care for it now.
“Destiny, my friend, doesn’t get it wrong.”
“We have nothing in common. She’s all chakra and feng shui, and I’m one hundred percent physical proof and scientific evidence. She’s candles and moon phases, and I’m grounded. Earth. I’m Earth.” I was on a roll and held up a hand when he tried to interrupt. “And let’s not forget the fact she wants nothing to do with me after that thing with her friend. That’s probably a hurdle destiny didn’t expect.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. Sometimes it’s rocky. Gretta and I didn’t have an easy road, but now, I can’t imagine being without her. I can’t even think of it.” He shook his head, micromovements of fearful apprehension. When he sobered again, he glanced at me.
“Yes, I’m still paying attention.” Sam liked when I focused on his ever-important words. “Even saw the girlie shiver.”
“I’m not ashamed of it, Leath. The thought of losing her is too much not to shiver.” He chuckled, and my eye roll came, even as he spoke again. “You know, there was a time not too long ago that you were all about the Eastern practices and balancing chakras, when you were all into downward dog while you sipped your herbal tea and meditated.”
Not like I hadn’t spent a few minutes this morning thinking about that very thing, but with the details in order, and I wasn’t in the mood to have him rehash every aspect of a time I wanted to forget. “Don’t remind me. I’ve worked really hard to block out that particularly dark period of my life.”
Sam chuckled, his obvious enjoyment of my pain a source for mirth and probably stories he would share with my dragon brethren later on. “All I’m saying is, you and Lila aren’t that different.”
“How do you spend so much time making observations that are clearly wrong without someone kicking your ass?” It was a valid question.
“I’m a badass firebreather. I don’t take heat, I give it.” He threw his head back and laughed at his own joke. When I didn’t share in the hilarity, he cleared his throat. “How am I wrong? You and Lila are more alike than you can see because you’re too close to it.”
I called bullshit on that one. “And you can’t see how different we are because your rose-colored glasses are fogged by all that steamy smut love between you and the good doctor.”
“Steamy smut love?” His smile spread wider, and if he wasn’t careful, an angry earth dragon was going to joyfully wipe it off his smug face.
“You heard me.”
He laughed again. This time a fake, knee-slapping ha-ha that boomed underneath the porch’s roof.
“This isn’t funny. Destiny made a mistake.”
“Because Lila believes in things you used to believe in?” He cocked a smug eyebrow and crossed his arms. Know-it-all. But this time he had it all wrong.
I shook my head. “Because anybody who believes a fortune teller can read your signs, or that you can stretch away an illness”—or nobly suffer through it when there were much better options available—“or that your qi is enough to keep their physical and emotional health in balance without the occasional aspirin or shot of bourbon is a certifiable crackpot.”
It wasn’t quite an accurate description of the traditions and beliefs of Eastern medicine, but the truest definition didn’t support my position,
and at that moment, being right was more important than being correct.
8
Lila
The image of Leath’s face when he walked out of my room stayed with me after he left. When I closed my eyes, when I opened them, when I looked at the chair where he’d sat all night watching over me. But it was his own fault. He wanted to change me, to take away a huge part of who I was because it was inconvenient for him, and I wasn’t having it.
It didn’t matter how much sunlight streamed through the window or how gentle the breeze ruffling my curtains or how the lavender and jasmine plants scented the air, I wasn’t going to just relax and rethink my position.
Before I could work myself into a bigger fuss over him, Gretta walked into my room, frown on her face, phone to her ear. She set her bag on the end of the bed and used her shoulder to hold her cell. “Tell me.”
“It’s just a regular relapse.” Nothing about my relapses were regular. The symptoms, though, always had the same names; pain, weakness, fatigue, and an inability to control my hands and legs. “I’m weak and tired. In pain.”
As I spoke to her, she relayed the information through the phone, then spent a couple seconds listening before she nodded, answered with a couple uh-huhs, thanked the other person then hung up and looked at me. “Why didn’t you call me last night? I could’ve taken you into Burlington.”
“I don’t need to go into Burlington. I just needed to relax and take my medicine.” A month or so of sleep would’ve probably helped also, and I didn’t mean to sound so snappy with her, but this morning had already been a rough one. I wasn’t in the mood to be treated like some kind of helpless damsel.
“Doc said to stay on the steroids here at home for a couple days. Give them a chance to work a little bit before you come in. But if they don’t work, or you start to feel worse, we need to get you in there immediately. Don’t wait to call me.” She sighed and squeezed my arm. The fear, the worry, the regret, all washed her face in emotion. She felt my illness almost as profoundly as I did, even if it was in a different, less physical way. “God, Lila. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
I nodded and moved my hand on top of hers. “I know, but you shouldn’t have to take care of me. I’m glad you have a life of your own, and I want you to keep living it.” I wanted to ask about it, to get her talking and spilling her details until I knew everything, but how the hell was I supposed to phrase that question? I started slow. “Can you fly?”
Gretta nodded and looked at me. “Yes. It’s amazing. The first time, it was like I could see everything.” There was such wonder in her eyes, a glow of happiness. “It’s like… Do you remember when we were kids and dad let us ride in the back of the truck? We would stand up and hold onto the cab with our eyes closed. Then that first second when you open your eyes and you see the world at that speed, do you remember? It’s that kind of rush.”
I remembered. How could I forget some of the best days of my life? I nodded and tried to smile, though in my weakened state, it felt wobbly and I couldn’t hold on to it. “Why didn’t you tell me you were—that you let Sam bite you?”
Gretta shrugged and cast her gaze down. “I’m sorry, Lila. I should’ve talked to you, but I didn’t know what to say.” She was right. We weren’t really the kind of sisters who talked about things like this. We mostly talked about my illness. My symptoms. My needs. Me, me, me. We used to joke more and act more like friends than caregiver and patient. She cocked her head and exhaled slowly. “When he told me we were destined… Well, it was a moment.”
A moment. Yeah. Quite a moment. I knew. But I kept my face passive and listened.
“He explained how everything worked, and I’ll admit, it was intense. There was a lot of deciding and waiting, but in the end, it wasn’t a decision. I was just stalling the inevitable.” She shrugged and smiled, the glow over her entire body now. “He’s amazing, Lila, and I couldn’t even imagine being without him now.”
“And being his destined mate?” I’d thought about it enough the terminology was less bothersome, less freaky, and I was proud that my mouth didn’t twist when I said it. “How do you know it’s real, and not like—” I couldn’t finish, but she knew.
“I won’t pretend to know what she felt, but I know how I felt.” Gretta smiled. “It’s like I was away on a trip, then I came home, and everything righted itself. I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” She patted my hand on top of the blanket. “Like he’s the love I never knew was out there for me. Bill was nothing compared to Sam. Everything else was just the warm-up, but this is the guy. He’s kind and funny, and when he smiles at me, I’m weightless.” She chewed her lower lip and smiled again.
She’d never looked or sounded happier.
If anyone deserved this kind of sappy, joyful, lovey-dovey delight in her life, Gretta did. She’d worked her ass off to become a doctor all while taking care of me, helping with Zoe, being the big sister in our relationship even though she was younger. “I’m happy for you.” And I meant it.
Gretta grinned. “Me, too.” She reached in her bag and pulled out her stethoscope. As she laid the small round pad over my heart, her other hand rested on my shoulder. “What about you and Leath? He looked appropriately miserable, but he was still here. Have you thought any more about taking the destined mate bite?”
“No.” I shook my head. I wouldn’t be changing my mind for her or him or anyone else. Gretta might’ve been lucky with Sam, but I barely knew Leath. Yes, I trusted him to protect me from a stalker, but that was it.
“Lila, you could be better and healthy. No more flare-ups. No more lying in bed because you can’t move.” She laid her hand over mine, pointed her hopeful gaze at me, then waited.
Anger bubbled in my veins. “Am I a burden? Because if taking care of me is too much, I can hire a nurse.” I had money left in my trust fund same as she did, and I would use it for private care if she wanted to turn her back on me now.
“Jeez, Lila. I want you to feel better. It doesn’t have anything to do with me taking care of you or not wanting to.” She scoffed and shook her head. “You’re my sister. I want you to be better. To feel better. I hate watching you suffer.”
I glared. I’d already had this argument once this morning, and I was in no mood to do it again.
“Then leave. I’m not letting some dragon bite me, so you don’t have to feel obligated to me anymore. And I don’t want to talk about it with you or with him or anyone else.” If healing me was really what all of this was about for them, then they could kiss off. My mind conjured an image of Kristin’s face as she wept on the floor, working at the bathroom doorknob with knives. “While we’re at it, why don’t you take Leath back down to town with you? I’m fine. I don’t need him here.”
“Lila, he’s here for you. Doesn’t that say something about the kind of guy he is?” She crossed her arms, stared at me. But this was my life. I wouldn’t judge her for the choices she made. The least she could do was respond in kind.
“It says that he might be under the same spell and just wants to bite me.”
Gretta sat back. “Is that really what you’re worried about? Lila, if there was any kind of dark magic around either of you, Sam or the others would’ve picked it up by now.”
If it was an experiment, how could they know for sure? The fated—or destined—whatever had worked fine for Gretta, and I was happy for her, but whoever decided who was supposed to be the exact match for one another fumbled this one. “He’s a closed-minded jerk.”
“Lila…”
“No, seriously. He called my life’s work bullshit. Honestly. Looked right at me, right in my eyes, and literally said the word bullshit, Gretta.”
It wasn’t the meanest thing anyone had ever said to me, but for someone who thought he was meant for me, he was discounting and poking fun at the one thing that had seen me through when I lost my parents, had a baby alone to raise and ended up with a disease that put me on my back a lot of the time.
She sighed and
shook her head. “What you do, I think is great, but some people don’t understand it. I love that you have a career that makes you happy and makes you enough money to take care of you and Zoe, but it’s not exactly the most conventional thing. He just doesn’t understand it.”
Clearly, he didn’t, and I didn’t care because it wasn’t my mission in life to convert Leath Lane to my lifestyle or my way of thinking. I also knew there were people who thought it was a bunch of malarkey and mumbo jumbo. Even some of my own clients took a few sessions before they trusted the wisdom and the power behind it. But from someone who claimed to be my perfect mate, I expected better. And maybe to know him a little. To not just be expected to take him at his word before I let him take a medicinal nibble and be bound to him.
“I don’t expect him to pull out a mat and crow pose with me, but the least he can do is keep his mockery to himself when he’s in my house.” And as if my sentence needed punctuation, a crash came from downstairs.
Like the universe was trying to emphasize my point, Leath’s curse immediately followed the crash. Gretta glanced at me, a warning, as his footsteps on the stairs brought him closer.
He appeared in the doorway, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast, lower lip between his teeth. He had a piece of black tourmaline in each hand. It had once been a large crystal used to ground my home and clear it of negativity. It sat by the front door. Guarding me since…as long as I could remember.
“Lila, I’m so sorry.” In his defense, he looked sorry, ashamed even. “I walked in the door and it must’ve caught on my pant leg.” He tried to fit the jagged edges back together. “I’ll call Cam and he can have another one shipped today. I’ll—” He pursed his lips. “Do you have glue?”
“You can’t just replace it or glue it. That one was bound to me, to my house. It’s spiritual. You can’t just super glue a binding back together, and you sure as hell can’t run to the local super store and pick up a new one.” He didn’t belong here and shouldn’t have been coming inside, but rather in his truck on his way down the mountain.