Victor

by Taylor Longford

  I looked up at him and laughed. I might have been down for a really short haircut but I drew the line at a close shave from Ryan Myerson. "Nay," I told him as Ninety pushed through the girls in the doorway. "I've had enough."

  "You've had enough when I say so," he snarled, puffing out his chest and looking oddly infantile as he leaned over me in the chair.

  Alexa stepped between us and threw her arms out. "I told you not to hurt him!"

  But Ryan shoved her out of the way while Ninety hurried back into the room and slapped a razor into his outstretched hand.

  "Nay," I repeated softly. "That's enough, boys."

  But I could tell their "blood was up" as we'd have said back in my time. Nowadays you'd probably say their decisions were being fueled by testosterone. Ninety-nine and Ninety-six grabbed my arms and forced me back into the chair.

  "Let's get his bracelets while we're at it," Ninety laughed. "They'll look great on my girlfriend."

  The razor was in Ryan's hand as he reached for me and I didn't like the look of it. I didn't like the look on his face, either, which was borderline murderous. I didn't believe he was going to try to kill me but I suspected he was ready to cut me up a bit. Unfortunately, human males have a tendency to get bloodthirsty when they think they have a helpless victim in hand. Of course his first mistake was thinking I was a victim. And his second was thinking I was helpless.

  I sent Myerson a sharp smile before I shook off Ninety-nine and Ninety-six, rolling onto my feet and pulling the chair between my legs. The curved back of the chair nailed Ninety beneath the chin and he flew backwards across the room. Sensing the charge coming from behind, I crouched and let Ninety-six sail over my shoulders and into the wall. At the same time, I spun around and used the chair to sweep Ninety-nine's feet out from under him. I watched him go down with a heavy thump then whirled around to face Ryan. But he was already backing away, tripping over the crowd at the door before he turned and ran.

  His offensive line was struggling to their feet. "Nay, don't get up," I told them mildly but with enough menace in my voice that they stayed put. I found Alexa in the crowd and said, "Tell Tara I'm sorry about the mess. Hope I haven't ruined the party."

  Alexa just stood there with her mouth hanging open. Slowly, she shook her head from side to side.

  "Ready to go then?" Havoc asked, stepping back into the room as I returned the chair to its feet.

  "If you've had enough fun," I answered, and repositioned my wristbands as I smiled at the football team sprawled on the floor. "Thanks for the haircut, m'dears."

  "What was that all about?" Havoc asked once we were outside in the crisp night air.

  I made a face and shrugged as I glanced back over my shoulder through the sliding glass doors. Alexa was helping to clean up, kneeling on the floor and sweeping my curls into a dustpan. "Just a bunch of young alphas looking for a dog fight," I muttered.

  "Dog fight?" Havoc whistled softly. "I bet you gave them a surprise."

  "Aye. They weren't expecting to run up against something bigger than a dog."

  "That was a mistake," he snickered.

  "Aye," I sighed and scraped a hand back through my spiky hair. "So what do you think of the haircut?"

  Havoc grinned. "I think it's terrible."

  "Really," I asked, a wry smile tugging at my lips. "You're not just saying that?"

  "Nay." He slapped me on the back. "I think Samantha will hate it."

  "Good."

  "She won't want to be caught dead with you."

  "Oh," I murmured. I hadn't considered that possibility. That my haircut would take me too far in the other direction and Samantha wouldn't want to go out with me because I was too unattractive. Still, Alexa and the rest of the girls back in the kitchen hadn't shared Havoc's opinion.

  "Then the road will be clear for me," he taunted.

  I slanted a look in his direction. "You do know that Samantha would only go out with you if she thought you were totally unattractive, right?"

  "I can live with that," he answered cheerfully.

  I laughed and threw my arm around his shoulders, and together we headed back toward the field where we could take off for home.

  Chapter Three

  As you might have guessed, I was anxious to try out my new haircut on Samantha. Of course, she'd rejected all of my invitations to get together but I'm pretty determined when it comes to something I want. So Torrie and I cooked up a casual rendezvous at a Boulder coffee shop on Monday afternoon. I had to go up to Boulder to sign the paperwork for the new rental property, anyhow. So I scheduled the get together after my visit to the real estate agent with Reason and Elaina. Valor and MacKenzie had given me a lift up there the night before, heading back home after a quick dinner.

  I joined Chaos and Torrie at a booth in the middle of the restaurant. And although I sat with my back to the entrance, the long mirror on the back wall let me see everyone who walked in the door.

  "Where's Elaina and Reason?" Torrie asked as soon as I sat down.

  I shook my head. "They couldn't make it. Evidently, a last-minute art contest came up at school and they're rushing to get their entries in."

  "Art contest?"

  "I don't know much about it, but a big scientific company is opening an office in Boulder and they want to decorate the conference room with the work of local young artists."

  "That's not good," she grumbled.

  "Why?" I asked, surprised by her reaction.

  "Oh, I don't mean the contest. That's great. But it's too bad they couldn't join us. I was kinda hoping to hide you in a crowd. Now you're going to stand out like crazy and it's going to look like I'm trying to set you up with Sam."

  "Sorry," I said, reaching up to rub behind my neck. "But I guess the winner of this contest is going to get a deal for several commissioned pieces. So it was hard for them to turn down a chance like that."

  The waitress interrupted us and took my order. She lingered quite a bit longer than necessary, staring first at me then at my brother, then back at me again before she moved off.

  "She'll probably write her phone number on the receipt," Torrie predicted with a wry smile.

  "Won't do her much good," I murmured.

  "No?"

  "Nay. Chaos is taken, obviously."

  "Obviously," he inserted.

  "And I don't have a phone. Not to mention the fact that I'm not interested."

  "She's a nice enough girl," Torrie pointed out.

  "She's very nice," I agreed. But she wasn't Sam.

  "Have you texted Samantha?" Chaos asked.

  Torrie looked at the phone in her hand. "I'll send it now. She should just be getting out of class." And without mentioning my name, Torrie sent a message inviting Sam to join her for coffee.

  "How'd it go at the real estate office?" Chaos asked while we were waiting for Sam's reply.

  "We're all set up," I answered.

  "When can we move in?"

  "Two weeks," I told him.

  "When does Elaina's lease end at the apartment?"

  "Not 'til the end of May, but they're going to move out early," I explained as Torrie received a text message saying Samantha had an hour before her next class.

  "She'll be here in five minutes," Torrie warned me with a conspiratorial grin.

  "While we're waiting," I started tentatively, "maybe you can tell me what she has against me."

  Torrie shook her head impatiently. "It's not you. It's Nils."

  "Nils?" I questioned her.

  "Samantha's ex. She went out with him for two years in high school. Then they broke off right after prom. She was still crying at graduation."

  "What happened?" I asked.

  Torrie shrugged. "I don't know. Sam won't talk about it. But whatever it was, it must have been pretty traumatic."

  "So Nils is…fairly good looking?"

  "Way good looking. Almost as hot as you guys. And crazy popular."

  "Do you have a picture of him?" I asked.
/>   "Maybe," she answered, flipping through the photos on her phone until she found the one she wanted. Turning the phone on the table, she showed me an image of a young man with thick blond hair…not too unlike my own.

  I frowned down at the picture. He looked like a nice enough guy but you really can't tell from a photograph or even a video. Images like that always seem a little flat to gargoyles, like something's missing. Like…most of their soul. I don't know how to explain it, but I knew Nils would look different to me in real life. Either better or worse depending on if he was a nice person or a basic jerkoff.

  "Is he still in Boulder or did he go to school out of state?" I asked.

  Torrie grimaced. "Still in Boulder," she answered. "Attending CU like Sam. But at least it's a big school. I don't think she runs into him very often."

  "I hope not, for her sake," I murmured.

  Of course, I could sense Samantha's presence a few seconds before I actually saw her in the mirror. She pushed through the door, smiling across the room at her sister before her curious gaze snagged on the back of my head.

  Sliding out of the booth, I turned and faced her…and watched her smile fade just the slightest bit.

  "Hello, Samantha," I said quietly. "It's good to see you again."

  She rebooted the smile on her perfect mouth as she faced her sister. "I thought it was just you and Chaos. You didn't mention anyone else."

  "You know Victor," Torrie answered with an innocent smile.

  "Yeah, I know Victor," she said, slipping a wry look in my direction.

  I motioned her into the booth but she held her ground. "You first," she insisted. "I can't stay long."

  "You said you had an hour between classes," Torrie protested.

  "I was mistaken," she returned lightly but without any explanation.

  "How do you like Victor's new haircut?" Torrie asked as I slid to the back of the booth.

  Samantha dropped her large purse between us and gave me a quick glance. For several seconds she gazed at her sister then slowly, her eyes moved back to my face.

  "Well," I prompted her, bracing my elbow on the table and resting my jaw on my fist. "What do you think?"

  "I think what I've always thought," she answered with a light laugh. "You're way too good looking for your own good."

  "So the haircut doesn't help?"

  "No, the haircut doesn't help. Or hurt."

  "What does that mean?" I prodded her with a smile.

  "It means I'm not going out with you, Victor."

  I narrowed my gaze on her, thinking she was getting ahead of herself, even if she was a beautiful girl…and even though she was right. "And what makes you think I was going to ask?" I drawled.

  Yeah, that was the wrong thing to say. Samantha stared at me a long moment then pulled her purse onto her shoulder. "Why else would you talk my little sister into arranging this get together?" she asked before turning and stalking through the restaurant door.

  "Damn," I muttered, pushing out of the booth and startling the waitress who was heading toward our table with our drinks. But I knew my brother would take care of the bill. And I had more important things to worry about. I wasn't going to let Sam walk away thinking I was rude or conceited. I followed her, catching up to her before she reached the next block. "I'm sorry," I apologized, matching my pace to hers. "I didn't mean to be insulting."

  Samantha shook her head and picked up the pace. "Why can't you just take no for an answer?"

  "I'm pretty determined when it comes to something I want."

  "And exactly what do you want, Victor?"

  "You," I answered simply, and stuffed my hands in the front pockets of my jeans. "Just you."

  She huffed out a short breath of impatience. "And you're probably used to getting what you want, aren't you?"

  I didn't think there was a safe answer to that question so I kept my mouth shut.

  Samantha stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to face me as the wind whipped her hair around her face. "Listen Victor, if you're really a nice guy like Torrie says and if you care about me at all, you'll leave me alone."

  Somehow, I resisted the urge to tuck her hair back into place. I buried my hands more deeply in my pockets. "I'm not sure I can do that, Sam."

  She pushed out a hard sigh and squinted against the sun behind my back. "I'm trying to be firm without being mean. But I don't want you to think for even one minute that I'd ever consider going out with you."

  "And why's that?" I demanded quietly, hoping to get her talking about whatever it was standing between us. If I was going to work on a solution to the me-and-Sam issue, I needed to know what I was up against. I needed to know about the Nils-and-Sam issue.

  "Because I'm not going out with a guy who can have any girl he wants."

  Okay, now we were getting somewhere. "I'm not like that," I told her.

  "No?" she shot back. "Well, let me ask you this. How many girlfriends have you had?"

  "Wh-what do you mean?" I stuttered, sensing a trap. "In my entire lifetime?"

  "Yes, in your lifetime."

  "I…I've never counted them," I confessed while trying to act casual and offhand, running a hand back through the ragged ends of my hair.

  "Well, count them now," she insisted. "While we're standing here."

  I watched her face as I thought back through the last four years of my life. And as the images of female faces flicked through my memory like playing cards being shuffled in my brain, I realized I was screwed.

  Samantha got tired of waiting. "I've never counted up my boyfriends, either, but I know how many I've had. You don't need your fingers to count to three."

  I stared down at her. She had a point although she didn't understand the circumstances that had driven my numbers so high. "Well, it was definitely more than three," I admitted on a low sigh.

  "How many?" she demanded.

  "Just…give me a minute."

  "Ten? Twenty? Fifty?"

  By that point, I was probably wearing a fairly guilty expression.

  "More than fifty?" she almost shouted, and threw her hands in the air. "I rest my case."

  "But I'm not like that anymore," I argued, following her as she started back down the sidewalk.

  "Anymore?" she cut back at me.

  "I was never like that," I tried to explain. "I just pretended to be like that."

  She stopped again and stared up at me. "You just pretended? And that's supposed to make me feel better about you? You just pretended to like a bunch of girls?"

  I could have told her that it was what they wanted but somehow I didn't think that would go over well…even though I never actually took anything that wasn't pushed on me. "I…did what I had to do."

  I could tell that she was getting mad—like really mad—but she was blinking too, like she was fighting back tears.

  "Yeah, well I'm doing what I have to do," she clipped out. "I'm saying goodbye."

  Before she could turn away again, I reached out and stopped her with a hand locked on her wrist. Her pulse skyrocketed but I couldn't tell if my touch excited her or if she was furious that I'd put my hands on her.

  "So you feel absolutely nothing when you see me," I questioned her.

  "N-No," she stammered.

  "And nothing when I touch you?"

  She tried to pull away from me but I kept a tight clamp on her delicate wrist. "Try to understand, Victor. I'm doing what I know is good for me."

  I allowed a light smile to touch my lips. "That doesn't answer my question, Sam."

  "Quit pushing it, Victor. I'm not in love with you and I'm not going to fall for your golden looks or your devastating dimples. Whatever obsession is driving you, get over it!"

  Whatever obsession was driving me just got more intense at her hot words. I crowded her against the brick wall of the storefront behind her while the pedestrians on the sidewalk hurried past, the occasional passerby throwing a curious glance in our direction. "So you feel nothing at all?"

&n
bsp; Her lips parted but no sound came out.

  "What about now?" I murmured, and angled my face as I crushed my lips against hers. A second later I was lost in the delicate warmth of her mouth, her lush lips parting beneath mine like a sweet invitation to explore the silken paradise within. I accepted the invitation and went a little farther, only pulling away when I realized my barbs had surfaced. A hot line of venom was sliding down the back of my hand and curling around my wrist.

  Damn.

  And while I shoved my fists in the pockets of my jacket, she acted like it had been her idea to end the kiss. I searched her face as her pink tongue licked across her glossy lips, her breath coming in shallow pants.

  "What happened between you and Nils?" I asked.

  She tried to pull away again but I planted my hands on the wall either side of her head and blocked her escape. "Torrie told you about him?"

  "Aye. Only she didn't know much."

  "That's because I didn't want her to know much. And I don't want you to know anything because it's none of your business."

  I reached out and guided her hair behind her ear. "You know what I think?" I said softly. "I think Nils hurt you. Badly. And I think you should talk about it instead of keeping it locked inside."

  "You don't know what's good for me," she whispered, her gaze fixed on mine.

  "Maybe not. But I know that Nils had to be a jerk if he hurt you. And you know what else, Samantha?"

  "What?"

  "I'm not Nils."

  She pulled in a ragged breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she held me with her steady gaze. "And I'm not going out with you," she said quietly. "Ever. Try to get that through your head."

  I dragged in a deep breath. She was right. I was used to getting my own way. I was also accustomed to leading and knew that effective leadership was at least ninety percent determination. But my years of leadership had also taught me that sometimes you have to sacrifice your own wishes for those of others. And I told myself this was just one of those times. Samantha needed me to step back and that's what I had to do for her. Even if it killed me.

  As the pack leader, I was supposed to be the last gargoyle to give up his rune, anyhow. And it would have been impossible not to mark Samantha if she ever broke down and kissed me again…assuming she would ever want to pair up with a gargoyle of dubious descent and species. So maybe it was all for the best.