Rogue Spotter Collection

by Kimberly A Rogers

  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  Lauren

  Mathias hadn’t come back around where I could actually see him for nearly three weeks, if I had my dates right. Keeping myself entertained without going crazy had resulted in a lot of naps and digging out my yarn and crochet hooks, which I bought impulsively at several different stops when we were still in the States. Mostly, because I was going stir crazy riding the train from California to Texas with nothing to do. If nothing else, I could make a lot of smaller projects with the yarn I currently had and one bigger project.

  I had also done my best to make the cottage a little homier by setting out more blankets by draping them over the chairs, and even putting my figurines in the center of the table. Sitting at the table now as I waited for the food to cook, I ran a fingertip over the three little figurines. The wood carving of a stylized loon made an oddly fitting companion to the jade deer and fox. I supposed part of the reason I kept the loon was because it had been the first trinket I bought for myself after going to work for Halliman’s. My fingers moved from the loon to the deer . . . swift, cautious, and smart enough to flee from danger. The fox . . . oh she was always clever, but also accustomed to slipping away from the hunting hounds.

  The smell of baking bread reminded me of my current task, and I limped over to the fireplace and pulled the pan off the raised cooking rack. The bread was a nice golden brown with a split at the top. Perfect. That only took ten days of constant practice to remember the correct way to bake in a fireplace. Thank goodness for the family of Brownies I fostered with at twelve . . . they had loved cooking and cooking without modern conveniences even more. The eleven months I spent with them was proving extremely useful.

  After depositing the bread on the table, I limped back over to the fireplace to check the chowder. It was done as well. Swinging the pot out so it no longer hung directly over the glowing embers, I hurried to finish setting the table. My stomach growled in anticipatory appreciation of the meal, but I paused before sitting down to eat. I had only set out tableware for myself.

  I hesitated a moment, feeling torn and a little ridiculous that I was even considering it, and then I limped over to the shelf with the extra tableware. I grabbed another setting and limped back to the table. A task that was much easier now since I wasn’t using the crutches. My ankle gave a little twinge, which seemed to be a reminder that I was not yet ready to abandon the crutches entirely. I finished setting the second place at the table and then fixed my bowl of chowder before settling in my chair. Mathias hadn’t been around in so long I wasn’t even sure why I bothered, but there was always a little hope.

  There was a boom in the distance, and I lowered my mug as I listened. It had been almost dry the last two weeks with some snow, but not nearly as much rain. There was another clap of thunder directly overhead and I jumped, nearly spilling my drink. Lightning filled the room as the main door swung open and Mathias stomped inside. He shut the door with a low curse and dropped the hood of his slicker. He gave me a look like he was going to run back out despite the sound of rain catching up to the thunder and lightning. I could almost see him considering it.

  “You could join me,” I said softly. “I just made it. And,” I lifted the mug, “I made your tea.”

  When he didn’t respond, I decided that perhaps showing no interest in him would be the best route. However, I was acutely aware of his presence in the room. I heard the sound of his steps and it took all of my will not to look back at him, to confirm he was actually coming closer. I raised the mug to my lips and drank the tea without really tasting it. Then, Mathias lowered himself into the chair opposite of me. His blue-green eyes were a pale blue due to the cream-colored wool sweater that clung to his lean frame adding emphasis to the existence of his muscles. I yanked my gaze away and prayed I wasn’t blushing.

  Mathias was quiet as he filled his bowl with chowder except for the nearly silent thanks he offered when I poured his tea. I kept my gaze fixed on my bowl, and when I reached blindly for the bread I had sliced my fingers brushed against his. I yanked my hand back and looked up to find him watching me. His mouth had firmed into a line and then he quietly asked, “No questions?”

  “No,” I whispered. I quickly picked up the slice of bread I had wanted and resolutely turned my attention back to my bowl, pretending the momentary contact hadn’t sent a fresh zing of awareness through me.

  “I was hunting.”

  My head came up at those quiet words. Mathias was watching me closely, an unreadable gleam in his eyes. My breath caught. “Hunting? Why?” I shook my head as my mind started racing and my heart beat faster. “You shouldn’t have gone out there after them. What if Weard figures out you’re hunting their men again? What if they set a trap for you?”

  Mathias’ brow furrowed and the coldness underlying his words vanished as he asked, “You’re worried about me? Still?”

  “Of course, I am. I, umm, I care about you, Mathias.” I looked down at my bowl and frowned. “I wish you wouldn’t endanger yourself by hunting Weard.”

  “I wasn’t hunting Weard.”

  I glanced up at that. “Then who or what have you been hunting?”

  “The Fuath.” Mathias’ eyes narrowed and hardened as his gaze dropped to my throat. The bruises were long gone but he still acted as though he could see them. “I’ve been hunting the rest of the pack. They came this way after the death of the first and that was unacceptable. So, I have removed the problem.”

  “Does this mean you’ll stick around here a little?” Not sure I wanted to even know his response, I occupied myself with eating more chowder.

  The silence was cringingly long when he finally responded, “If that is your preference.”

  I didn’t trust myself to speak without revealing too much so I only offered a nod. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, but it wasn’t quite as tense between us as it had been last time. Something for which I was immensely grateful. By the time we finished eating, I almost felt as close to normal as I could get while sharing a meal with a 10.

  When Mathias stood, however, the thought of him disappearing again struck me hard. I scrambled to my feet. “Mathias.” He stopped and looked at me, raising an eyebrow. My cheeks were heating up, but I did my best to ignore them as I racked my brain for a reason he should stay. “Would you, umm, would you like to stay for dessert? There’s brownies and it won’t take thirty minutes to bake them.”

  “Brownies?”

  I nodded, warming to the idea. “Yes, chocolate seems appropriate given the day, don’t you think?”

  “The day?”

  Now I really was blushing. I limped over to the shelf, pulled down a mixing bowl, and poured in the ingredients. They had shown up last week, and I had saved them for tonight. Why had I mentioned the day? Mathias was still waiting for an answer. I offered him a little smile. “Yes, today is February fourteenth. Valentine’s Day.” When he didn’t respond, I mixed faster. Only after I slid the baking pan onto the cooking grate, did I speak. “Even a Myrmidon must know of Valentine’s Day.”

  I had meant to apologize for making him uncomfortable . . . Instead, I was taunting a 10. What was wrong with me? Had I completely forgotten how to survive as a Spotter just because I had been stuck in this cottage for a few weeks? Knowing it was better to face him than to have him at my back, I turned around. Mathias was sitting on the long bench, not even two feet away, watching me with the oddest smile. “You think I don’t know about Valentine’s Day?”

  “Well, you are a member of a species that is supposed to be extinct,” I pointed out drily. “Not to mention the fact that I’ve read more than enough books that have the hero completely clueless as to Valentine’s Day, even when he’s a relatively young paranormal. It’s an odd thing but perhaps males really are that clueless.”

  Mathias gave a low chuckle. “Let me guess, then the heroine has the excuse of showing him the pleasures of a day dedicated to love.”

  “Some more than other
s,” I murmured. “The good thing about T. L. Harkins’ books is that she actually gets more things right, and there’s none of that bizarre cluelessness. It’s a pity she’s not one of the ambassadorial species, though. Most of the writers who are tend to write the same fluff when they aren’t promoting their species as the most noble of all paranormals.”

  “How do you know Harkins isn’t ambassadorial?”

  “It would have been in her bio, which reads like a norm’s.” I limped over to the bench and sat down next to him. “If you for some reason don’t know about Valentine’s Day, then this is your introduction to the most important aspect of the holiday.”

  “Chocolate?”

  A soft laugh escaped me as I nodded. “Chocolate.” I looked over at him, smiling, only to freeze when I realized he was much closer to me than I had realized, especially when we were looking directly at each other. The idea of giving him a kiss in the spirit of Valentine’s Day crossed my mind. I had been bold before and kissed him, however. The next day had been an utter disaster with us going on the run from Weard’s hunters. Maybe it would be better for us both if I didn’t try to kiss him again.

  I turned forward again and cleared my throat. Was I blushing? I really hoped I wasn’t blushing. Blowing out a breath, I leaned forward to study the brownies. They were rising nicely and they smelled heavenly.

  Mathias broke the silence. “Why is chocolate the most important?”

  “Chocolate doesn’t care if you’re single,” I countered out of habit.

  “So you have never celebrated Valentines’ Day . . . properly?”

  “If you mean with a dinner and actual relationship, that would be a no.” I tugged the brownies off the grate and then limped over to the table. “Like I told you before, it was too much risk for a steady relationship. I’ve spent more time with you than any other date combined.”

  When he didn’t respond, I focused on cutting up the brownies and placing two fist sized pieces on the plates he had set out. I turned to offer him his and found myself studying his face. “And you?”

  “Me?”

  I let go of the plate and quickly grabbed my own before answering. “Yes, you. I find it rather difficult to believe a man like you has never had a reason to celebrate Valentine’s Day.”

  Mathias headed back to the bench without responding right away. But as soon as I limped over and took a seat next to him, he muttered, “You should be using your crutches.”

  “I need my hands and a little practice won’t hurt.” I took a bite of the brownie and hummed as it nearly melted in my mouth. “Mmm, this is good. You’re trying to deflect, by the way. You don’t really expect me to believe that you have never celebrated Valentine’s Day, especially since I’m sure I’m the only woman you’ve ever met who knew you were more than the hot guy with a British accent. The accent alone should’ve gotten you plenty of dates, if you go by what the other secretaries at Halliman’s were saying when you showed up.” Now, I was babbling . . . about his delicious accent. I took another bite of my brownie to shut myself up before I embarrassed myself further.

  “I celebrated Valentine’s Day properly once and that was because she insisted even though the flirtation hadn’t been going on for very long.”

  The words startled me. I hadn’t expected him to ever talk to me again much less actually continue the conversation about Valentine’s. Yet, the comment about him having a relationship before . . . well, just before . . . It sent hot needles through my gut and my heart wrenched. How in the world had she let him get away?

  I ate the last decadent bite of my brownie before I risked a glance at him. His gaze was fixed on the crackling flames, and he looked almost haunted instead of nostalgic or pining after a lost love. “And, you didn’t like it?”

  “I was young and stupid. And, completely careless in exploring the relationship, so naturally I liked it very much.” Mathias’ mouth turned down into a frown as he added softly, “In doing so, Amber lost her life.”

  “What happened?”

  “I hadn’t completely put my past behind me. There were still some who knew what I was . . . Myrmidons don’t have the best control if they allow themselves to become attached. The person they form a bond with . . . they can become a weakness. They thought my flirtation with Amber meant she was my weakness. So they killed her two days after our Valentine’s Day celebration.”

  “I’m sorry.” The words slipped out instinctively, but I knew they probably sounded empty. On an impulse, I reached over and took his hand. Giving a light squeeze, I quietly said, “So you stopped paying attention to Valentine’s.”

  “It is too great a risk.”

  “Because your heart might attach,” I finished for him. When he looked at me, I offered a slight smile. “Why do you think I stayed alone, purposely avoiding friendships? When I was eleven, I spent time fostering with a family of Sprites. They had all girls who were a little older than me, starting to notice boys, and Sprites are highly emotional so it’s easy for them to become too attached too soon. Mama C used to lecture all of us about the dangers of falling too easily or allowing attachments to form without thought or intent.” My smile turned wry as I added softly, “Even then I knew getting attached meant I would trust my secrets to someone and that was a deadly thing to do as a Spotter.”

  “More deadly for a Myrmidon,” Mathias quietly countered as he slipped his hand from mine.

  “I have no doubt.” I hesitated a moment, not sure if I should ask the question niggling at me, before plunging ahead. “What did you mean about your past? How did people know you were a Myrmidon?”

  “I was captured and forced to fight for a group of rogue dragon shifters who were going to war against their kin.” The statement was devoid of emotion and he wasn’t looking at me. Unable to even think of a reply, I could only sit there as Mathias continued speaking. A thread of emotion entered his voice as he said, “My family was discovered somehow or betrayed, and we were attacked. My mother was separated from my two brothers and me. Our little sister was killed because she was only a toddler, too young to be used in the fighting. My brothers didn’t last past the first year, but I was . . . driven. I survived five years before I was found.”

  “How old were you?” I asked, mind already spinning from the horror of his story.

  “I was seven when we were captured.”

  I took a shuddering breath as my mind conjured the picture of Mathias as a child soldier separated from his mother and losing his brothers. It was too horrible to even consider. “How, umm, how did you escape that life?”

  “My father tracked me down.” Mathias rubbed his hands together, still staring hard at the fire. “He went into a rage and took down the rogue shifters. It was the first time I knew the cold burning through me whenever I fought was something unique to us. My father freed me and ordered me to run. He died that day. My uncle was the one who found me and lectured me on the dangers of being known as a Myrmidon.”

  “Mathias, I . . .” The words trailed into nothingness as I struggled to think of something to say.

  Mathias didn’t even seem to notice as he kept talking. “You were worried about my being a berserker but I’m not. Myrmidons have a battle rage, yes, but my people have a different name for it. The original name wouldn’t mean anything to you, but it roughly translates into Biting Ice. More fitting than a berserker’s rage given I don’t feel heat, only ice and cold. To lose utter control like a berserker, like Achilles did, to simply go on an unchecked rampage was to lose our honor. It was the ultimate fall for a Myrmidon.”

  I stared at Mathias, everything in his coldness and his distancing himself from me was suddenly making sense. He was trying to protect me, but somehow struggling with this Biting Ice. Without thinking, I touched his shoulder. Tension knotted his muscles and my heart clenched for him. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. For any of it. It was no more your fault that your family was captured and made to suffer for your heritage as a Myrmidon than it was my fault that my
parents abandoned me. We are not responsible for the actions of those older and more powerful than us.”

  * * *

  Mathias

  Lauren’s touch burned through me. She should have turned away, left me alone, when I told her of Amber and of my past. Instead, she was attempting to comfort me. Did she still not see I was a monster too dangerous for her to care for, much less show empathy?

  I looked at her telling myself that her eyes would show her true feelings, the shock and disgust I deserved. But her dark eyes were filled with . . . empathy, compassion, and so much heart that I struggled to remain detached. I needed to remain detached. Lauren was studying my face, but the emotions in her eyes never slipped. Her tone was hesitant, gentle, and a little contemplative when she asked, “Is it this need for control that’s been keeping you away?”

  “It is part of the reason,” I admitted before I could stop myself. Her hand slipped away from my shoulder and I felt the loss of her warmth keenly. “If I am to protect you, I need my control. I can’t lose myself to the Biting Ice. It is . . . too dangerous.”

  “Is that what happened in Edinburgh? When you . . . started killing the hunters, I mean.”

  I almost denied it, claimed to be in total control. But as I stared into her eyes, I found myself incapable of deceiving her. “Yes . . . It is growing stronger, but I won’t let it win.”

  “What’s the other reason?”

  The words were so soft I almost didn’t hear them. “What do you mean?”

  Lauren’s lips parted and a faint blush crept into her creamy tan. “You said the need for control was only part of the reason you’ve been staying away. What’s the other reason?”

  As my fingers brushed against her cheek, I realized her skin was as soft as it looked. Unable to resist the compulsion, I slid my fingers into her thick hair cupping her face. Lauren’s eyes widened and her hands wrapped around my wrists as my thumbs brushed against the underside of her jaw. But she didn’t tug on them or try to push me away. I leaned closer, still staring into her luminous dark eyes, as I breathed, “You. It’s you.”