Gerik?
Hmm?
Is it the end of the world?
I don’t know.
Why else would something this catastrophic happen to humanity?
I have no idea why it happened. Or how. It just did, yeah?
Don’t you believe that everything happens for a reason? That everything is fated, part of nature’s grand design?
No.
No? What’s this? Gerik Hjemsäter, Gypsy extraordinaire, no longer believes in destiny?
Not since you, Trinity. You are mine in every sense of the word. Without me, there would be no you. Your life wasn’t supposed to have had any meaning or purpose until I found you. You were meant to remain in a stasis of sorts, while you waited for me. And only for me were you to blossom into the woman you were meant to become; my woman. Only to me should you have been able to give your body. Only me should you have ever been able to love. But that isn’t what happened, yeah? Instead, you turned away from me, became stronger without me than you ever were with me. You became independent and self-sustaining…and then you fell in love with someone else.
Even though I knew he was only stating facts, hearing that my life before Gerik had no meaning or purpose really stung. True, I hadn’t had any friends or any sort of social life whatsoever. I hadn’t had any goals or lifelong plans that were set in stone. And maybe I’d had the personality of a lost sock. But my parents had conceived me, right? They had wanted me and loved me; I knew that to be true. Yes, I had been born for him and yes, I shared his soul, but what about the rest of me? I had served a purpose before Gerik. My life had meaning. I had been a daughter and a sister and I had loved my family with every fiber of my being and, gods, did it hurt to think that those four amazing people, so important to me, had meant nothing in the greater scheme of things.
Trinity, I’m trying to tell you that I agree with you. After everything that has happened, I can no longer believe in a nature-controlled grand design. Nor do I believe that there is a purpose for everything. Shit just happens, whether you want it to or not, and sometimes even the most powerful of us cannot do a damn thing about it. Nature included.
Destiny is what you make of your life?
Yes. Our soul, as old and as powerful as it is, was not able to dictate our future. When all was said and done, we decided that we were going to complete the joining and be with one another. Or rather, you decided. I’d been on board from the very beginning.
I burst out laughing. I fucking love you.
I love fucking you, too.
I snorted. Jerk.
Gerik’s body veered sharply to the left and he let his wings drag, slowing down, readying to land. I watched the ground beneath us quickly rising up. Just as I thought we were going to crash, he again lifted his wings, pulling back until his feet touched the ground. He landed perfectly, without so much as jostling me.
I took one look around and burst into tears.
Leaning against a rocking ledge, Gerik watched me with a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “It’s called Hawk Mountain.”
I stared down the mountain at the forest of white pine trees below, just taking it all in, the sights and scents of blossoming life surrounding me.
It was paradise in the midst of a war zone. It was wonderful.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” I whispered.
He grinned. Anytime, beautiful.
Beautiful. My stomach fluttered. Gerik had never had a nickname for me. Beautiful was perfect. Gerik made me feel beautiful.
“I love you,” I murmured, standing on my tiptoes, reaching for him, wanting up and into his arms. He picked me up and lowered his face to mine.
While he loved me with his mouth, I pulled his braids forward, slipping the pony holders off and ran my fingers through the long, silky strands. After freeing his braids, I dropped my hands to his neck, to the smooth, hard scales there and then up over his face and onto his horns. They looked just like they felt, like polished black bone. As I caressed them, he shivered.
“Your Achilles heel,” I teased, loving his reaction to my touch. “Who knew a dragon’s erogenous zone would be in his horns.”
“And what of yours, Trinity,” he rumbled. His hand slid up my shirt and he lightly raked his claws over my breast.
I went limp in his arms, panting, “More.”
He flashed me an arrogant grin, looking so very male and incredibly full of himself.
“Don’t get too cocky,” I scolded. “There’s only one Eros in the world.”
He winked at me. “The Greek god of love and desire. How fitting. Doesn’t he, too, have wings?”
Yes, he did. I had walked myself right into that one.
“If I’m Eros, beautiful, who would that make you?”
Psyche, I thought, remembering the story my daddy had told me. She was Eros's human lover that was eventually made immortal so they could be together forever.
“Psyche…” he murmured. “It’s Greek for butterfly, you know. Always transforming. Kinda like you.”
“Maybe I’m Medusa instead,” I said, giggling. “And can turn you to stone with just one look.”
“You have no idea how right you are,” he murmured, slipping his tongue back inside my mouth. “I’m rock hard right now.”
Pervert.
Your pervert. Always, only ever, yours.
I marveled at his words. That someone as simple as I was had a hold over this magnificent creature. Full of strength and power, looking like a warrior god of old, both fearsome and beautiful.
“Trinity,” he laughed, grinning down at me. “You scold me for being too cocky and then you compare me to a god.”
I huffed. “That’s different.”
******
That night we slept deep inside the forest and made love on the soft, earthy-scented ground, surrounded by the sort of magic that only nature in her purest form could create: life so colorful, so magnificent and peaceful, that one couldn’t help but be affected by it; to be pulled inside of it, to die within its sweet caresses; and be reborn anew, greater and stronger than before; all because nature’s lingering presence has been burned forever into your soul.
At sunrise, I picked wild flowers for hours. I was in my element here, a place I had never known existed but recognized instantly as a home.
Sitting amid a pile of flowers, my body, my magic, connected to Earth, was how Gerik found me. I had two chipmunks in my hands. Birds of all colors perched on the trees surrounding me and a family of rabbits stood only a few feet away. Several doe and a few fawns had begun approaching me but were wary of Gerik and kept a good distance away.
Gerik burst out laughing.
“What?” I asked, feeling a blush creep up my neck.
He grinned. “You’re goddamn Cinderella, Trinity. All you need is a fairy godmother, yeah?”
“Whatever,” I said, “Besides, I liked Belle better…or Ariel. Ariel was a mermaid. It just doesn’t get any cooler than that.”
He snorted and smoke billowed from his nostrils, sending my posse of wildlife scattering in fear.
“Now what’s funny?”
“Belle.” He laughed and pointed first at me, and then himself. “Beauty and the Beast.”
I shook my head. No way could Gerik ever be considered a beast. Even in beast form, he was by far the most beautiful male I had ever seen.
“So what you’re trying to say is I’m beauty?” he asked, “And you’re the beast?”
I laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes. Holding my belly, I fell backwards on my bed of flowers and rolled around, laughing louder and harder than I had in all my life. The joyful sounds bounced off the surrounding rocky ledges and echoed all throughout the valley below. It seemed as if the mountain was laughing with me.
“Oh gods,” I breathed. “Enough with the comparisons. We might be powerful and you might have horns on your head but we are still just plain old Trinity and Gerik, not mythological gods or fairytale creations.”
“Yea
h?” He smiled at me. “I like the sound of that, beautiful.”
He lay down beside me and stared up at the bright blue sky, his eyes crinkled with happiness. “Trinity and Gerik,” he murmured softly. “Just plain old Trinity and Gerik.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Xan awoke in the middle of the night to someone taking a jackhammer to his front door.
“Coming,” he bellowed.
He had just barely pulled on a pair of sweats and flipped the lock when the door swung wide open. Gunnar shoved him deeper inside the trailer and kicked the door closed behind him.
“What the fuck is going on,” he growled, pissed off that he had been woken up only to be manhandled by a pothead.
Gripping his forearms, Gunnar stared at him with wild, red puffy eyes.
“She told me not to tell you, she told me not to tell anyone but you’ve got to see her, Xan! She didn’t come home last night, so I went looking for her and found her out by the wards! Someone fucking beat her half to death, and she won’t—”
He shoved Gunnar aside and took off running for the Horváth’s RV. Barefoot and shirtless, he tore through camp running faster and harder than ever before.
Bursting through their front door, he found Ritsa and Mags huddled on the couch, sobbing hysterically.
“She’s locked in her room,” Mags cried out as he sprinted down the hallway. Fifi’s door was locked and he wasted an entire minute kicking the shit out of it until it cracked down the center. Shoving his fist through, he found the lock and yanked open the door so hard it came off its hinges. He took one look at her and had to fight to stay standing.
Aside from a pair of dirty white socks, she was naked. From her face all the way down to her ankles, her bronzed skin was mottled with deep purple and black bruises. It looked as if someone had systematically punched their way down her body, not even an inch of skin had been safe from the brutality she had suffered. Her lips were split in several places, puffy and bleeding, her nose was broken and one of her eyes was swollen shut. Blood trickled out of one ear and down the side of her, disappearing into her mud-encrusted hair.
Seeing him, she tried to curl in on herself but it was obvious she was in far too much pain to move more than a few inches at a time.
Breathing hard through his nostrils in an attempt to tamp down his rage, he approached her, making sure he appeared as non-threatening as possible.
“Fi,” he growled, trying to keep his voice soft. “I’m gonna take you home with me. Okay, baby?” Her attempt at nodding ended with her flinching in pain.
Using the dark pink comforter she was lying on top of, he wrapped her up, shifted her into his arms and lifted her up as gently as possible.
He found Gunnar crying just outside her door.
“Gunnar,” he growled as he passed by him. “Go get Maisera, send her to my place, and neither of you –” He pointed at Ritsa and Mags. “Tell anyone about this!”
He leveled his glare on Mags, one of the biggest gossips in camp.
“Do you understand me, woman? NO ONE IS TO KNOW! Or I’ll rip your goddamn heart out through your throat!”
“I would never!" she cried out.
“What are you going to do?” Ritsa whispered.
He gave her a hard look. “What I do best, fată.”
She swallowed thickly, nodding.
“Good,” Mags whispered. “Good.”
He took the long way back to his trailer, keeping to the edge of camp, moving quickly and staying unseen. Back in his trailer, he lay Fifi down on his bed and covered her with a few more blankets.
He wanted to scream.
Cry.
Hold her close.
Beat the living fuck out of something…someone. Someone. He already knew who, but he had to be sure.
“Who did this to you, baby?” he asked, stroking the palm of her hand. Aside from her feet, her hands were the only place on her body that he could touch without causing her an ungodly amount of pain.
Her eyes overflowed and her bottom lip trembled. “Nicu,” she whispered hoarsely.
Fire spiked his blood and sweat dotted along his forehead as his body clenched with fury. A fine tremor rippled through him as he fought for the control he’d lost the second he’d laid eyes on Nicu’s handiwork.
“Did he rape you?” Even his voice shook with rage.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Gunnar burst through the front door, Maisera and Tobar were right behind him. Maisera rushed toward Fifi and gently lifted the blankets to assess her injuries.
“Who?” Tobar demanded as he stared in horror at Fifi’s battered body.
Ignoring him, he went to the storage cupboards under the sink. Grabbing his duffle of weaponry, he pulled his 380 Smith and Wesson, his Glock and then, just because, he grabbed a serrated edged dagger.
“I’m nowhere near as good as your mamă was, Xan Daniel. You’ll have to get Nadya to help me heal her,” Maisera said, eyeing him warily as he finished dressing and strapped on his weapons.
Tobar glanced back and forth between his grandmother and Xan.
“Bunică? Înțelegi?” Tobar asked her.
“Din păcate, da,” she said grimly.
“I’ll get Nayda,” Tobar offered, glancing at him.
“Good,” he said and then turned to Gunnar. “Stay here with your sister.”
He’d expected Gunnar to argue with him, but surprisingly he didn’t. Instead, he crawled up in bed beside Fifi, took her hand in his and placed it over his heart.
“I’m so sorry, surioară, I’m so fucking sorry. Doamne iartă-mă Îmi pare așa de rău.”
Tobar followed him outside. “Xan…”
He spun around. “What!”
“Who did it?” Tobar hissed.
“Nicu!” he hissed back.
They stared at one another.
Then Tobar nodded, just a slight dip of his head. “You have my permission,” he said somberly.
Like he fucking needed or cared about Tobar’s permission. “Damage control,” he growled back. “Get on it.”
Not wanting to draw any attention, he stalked silently through camp towards the Siwak brother’s RV. The short walk was enough time to get his shit together. He’d have to handle this delicately. Nicu had magic, he didn’t. Not that he hadn’t gone up against magic users before, because he had, several actually. But usually hits like this took a bit of strategic planning to pull off quietly.
Finding the front door locked, he shouldered the thick piece of plastic and threw all his weight into it, breaking it open.
The noise woke Nicu, who’d been asleep on the couch.
Nicu took one look at him and smiled maliciously. “Who’s jealous now, Deleanu?”
He gaped at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demanded.
"What’s wrong with me?" he asked, incredulous. “Fuck, Xan, you really don’t get it, do you?”
“No, motherfucker, I don’t. Care to explain?”
Nicu snorted. “We’re all dead. Every single one of us. Whether our time is tomorrow or a year from now, we’re all gonna die before we should. If you want to sit around and feel sorry for yourself, living day to day, just going through the motions, waiting to kick it, that’s on you, but I’m not gonna go out like that. I’m taking advantage of the time I got left.”
“No, asshole. You took advantage of a woman in the worst fucking way.”
He scoffed. “I’m no different than anyone else in camp. Nico wanted Becki, so he took her. Before him, Hockey took her, tied her up against her will, if I remember correctly. My own mamă was forced into a marriage she didn’t want. Even Maisera and Jericho’s marriage had been arranged. And Lyuba… Christ, she’s still unhappy.
“Hell, don’t you remember when we were kids, Marcell just up and took Edina the night of her thirteenth birthday. He was nearly forty years older than she was and no one stopped him, not even her tată and mamă. The whole camp had to listen to her screaming and crying every
night for months while he forced himself on her.”
Yeah, he remembered. He’d been so young at the time he hadn’t thought anything of it. It was just the way of things among the clans. Men from the old country, men like Marcell and Lajos, and like Jericho and his own tata mare, had followed the old ways and looked down their noses at change of any kind.
The next generation, most of who had been born and raised in America, immersed in American culture and slowly stopped adhering to the old traditions. His own generation rarely practiced them at all, and when they did, they certainly weren’t raping thirteen-year-olds.
But when it came down to it, Marcell hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d acted within the confines of Romani law and the law clearly stated that when a fată reaches her thirteenth birthday any man could claim her at any time. And said man has every right to suppose sexual relations with said wife. As a married woman, it is one of her expected duties.
Law abiding or not, in his opinion, Marcell should have taken a full grown woman as his wife instead of a fetiță that he’d purposely kept fat and pregnant just to make sure she didn’t run off. There was no denying Edina had been miserable throughout their entire marriage. Twenty-one years and eight children later, she still hadn’t been able to look upon her husband without pure hatred shining in those pretty brown eyes of hers. When Marcell was killed back in the Catskills after a group of Skins had attacked camp, Edina had burst into tears. Happy tears. She’d fallen to her knees, thanking God for finally answering her prayers.
It had been the first time he’d heard her laugh in twenty-one years.
But Nicu hadn’t claimed Fifi. As it was, Fifi hadn’t been up for claiming. He’d laid dibs on her long ago, because it was what she’d wanted, and whether he married her or not after laying claim, fata was off limits to all men except him.
“Fi wasn’t yours to take,” he growled.
“Was Trinity yours to take? You married her without her knowledge. What the fuck does that make you, Deleanu?”
“A selfish bastard,” he hissed. “Not a man who beats women into submission so he can rape them.”
Nicu laughed bitterly. “You’re going to stand there and tell me you didn’t have to force yourself upon Gerik’s soul mate? I seem to remember her crying out in pain from a simple kiss. I can’t even imagine what kind of torture she had to endure while you fucked her. I know you had to pry those sexy Gaje thighs apart, Deleanu.”
The Holy Trinity Trilogy Page 32