Lover Unveiled, page 14
“It’s all right.” Even though it wasn’t. “I just, well, we’ll talk about it later.”
“I like him, by the way.” The older female looked up at the ceiling as more of the heavy footfalls reverberated down. “He’s very handsome. Where did he come from?”
The gates of Dhunhd, Mae thought. To torture me.
“Tinder,” she muttered.
“You met him in a ring of fire?”
“Something like that.” Mae rubbed her aching head and then focused on the elderly female. “You look tired—”
“I am sorry that the spell did not work.” Tallah switched her cane to the other side. “And as for being tired, after a certain age, one gets exhausted with one’s failures in life. It’s not just about sleep, my dear.”
“You haven’t failed me.”
“I thought the summoning spell would work.”
“I know you did, and I’m grateful we tried.”
As Tallah put her hand on the doorjamb to steady herself, Mae went over. “How about a proper nap downstairs. I’ll keep an eye on things up here.”
“You’ll have that male stay with us, then? He’s very strong. And so handsome, too.”
Mae made a noise in the back of her throat. Which was what happened when you swallowed two f-bombs with a sonofabitch chaser.
“We’re strong enough on our own, you and I,” she said as she took the female’s arm. “Come on, let’s get you to your bed. You have a rest while I figure out everything.”
Tallah refused to budge. “What was in my yard?”
“Just a coyote.”
“It didn’t sound like a coyote.”
“Would you like me to bring you down some warm milk?” Mae asked in a pleasant way while steering Tallah toward the basement door.
“To be honest, I’m too tired to drink anything,” Tallah said with defeat. “I am so glad you’re here. I trust you to take care of things.”
Well, at least that’s one vote of confidence, Mae thought.
About ten miles away in the ’burbs, in a nice little house that had been recently renovated, Nate was sitting at a round kitchen table alone.
Okay, he wasn’t completely alone. He had a Thomas’ plain bagel (toasted, lightly) with cream cheese spread on it (not too much) and a mug of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee (homemade in the coffee machine, not the K-cups unit, with sugar). As he sipped his java and wolfed back his carbs, the heel of his right foot bounced under his chair like it was on a countdown to liftoff—and had lost all patience with how long the rocket boosters were taking to warm up.
The tip-tip-tip-tip drove him nuts, so he slapped his thigh. Then pushed down on it to hold his leg in place.
Checking the time on his phone, he looked to the sliding glass door on the far side of the table. The shutters were down still because Murhder and Sarah took no chances with sunlight. Even though it was now well past sunset, the house was still locked up tight—which was forcing him to do some mental gymnastics on the implications of him sneaking out through the garage. He knew the code to the alarm, but he wasn’t sure if there was a secondary alert system on.
Wait, everything chimed down in the cellar, didn’t it? Like, any time a window or a door was opened.
He glanced to the basement door. His parents were still down there, getting showered and dressed. So they might hear the sounds. Or get a notice on their phone. With the way the Black Dagger Brother Vishous set up these security systems, it would be stupid to think there weren’t multiple redundancies when it came to tracking the breach of any contact.
He checked the time again. There wasn’t any spelled-out rule prohibiting him from leaving before the shutters were up. Plus the sun had gone down about an hour and thirty-three minutes ago.
And twenty-seven seconds. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine—
The sound of heavy footfalls coming up the stairs had Nate putting his phone away like he’d been caught looking at pictures of Emily Ratajkowski. And as the cellar door opened wide, he got back with the bagel program, chewing like he hadn’t been planning anything stupid.
Just another normal night, in the middle of a string of normal nights, where he had a simple First Meal and went off to work at the construction site.
NBD.
“Look at you, up early,” his dad said.
“Dad” was, at least on an eyeball level, a total misnomer. The Black Dagger Brother Murhder was the polar opposite of a doughy, bad-joking, Lee-jeans-wearing, reading-glasses-sporting Zeek Braverman type. Yeah, nope. Murhder was six feet, ten million inches tall, and, dressed in his black leathers and tight-fitting black fighting shirt, with his holsters of weapons dripping off one hand, and his black-and-red hair cut short, he looked like something that belonged in a video game.
On the wrong side of the good guys.
“So how’d you sleep?” Murhder put his holsters aside and then swung by the kitchen table, laying a huge hand on Nate’s shoulder.
“Good.” Chew. Chew. Sip. “I’mjustgoingtofinishthisandheadintowork.”
“I’m glad that job’s going well.” His dad opened the cupboard over the K-cups machine and got out a mug with a snooty Englishman on it and the word “WANKER” underneath the etching. “And you’re doing a service to the race. The young males and females who’ll live there need the shelter.”
Nate tried to plug into the conversation. “I don’t get it, though. They’re going to be by themselves?”
Images of human frat houses made him wonder whether all that new furniture they were moving in was going to last long.
“No, there’ll be social workers on-site.” Murhder put the mug in the machine and fired up things with a pod of Green Mountain Breakfast Blend. “Safe Place doesn’t allow males past their transitions under its roof—which, considering it’s a domestic violence resource for females and their young, makes total sense. But there are families that need to be kept together and kids just starting out on their own. So Luchas House is going to be good for the race.”
“Mmm.” Chew. Chew.
There was a wheezing sound as the coffee finished coming out. Then the tinking of a spoon as his dad stirred in his sugar. Finally . . .
“Ahhhhhhh.”
Funny how this was now normal, this ritual of the pair of them with their coffee. Nate had gotten used to it all so fast. This was . . . home. And Murhder and Sarah were his family.
And sometimes he felt so lucky he cried alone in his room, holding a pillow to his face so no one could hear him.
Except that was not what was on his mind tonight.
“You okay, son?”
Nate looked up, all ready with an I’m-fine. But the way those eyes were staring at him? What he was selling was not going to be bought—and there was no way he was going to go into the truth. He was so busy denying it to himself, he couldn’t imagine saying the words out loud.
But he did have something to talk about.
“Did you . . .” He cleared his throat. “Ah, did you ask Shuli to protect me?”
Murhder’s brows crashed down over his eyes. “Protect you? Like an ahstrux nohtrum?”
“I’m not sure what that is.”
“It’s a bodyguard with a lifetime contract.” Murhder put his palm out and waved it like he was erasing a bad idea on a whiteboard. “And no offense to your buddy—he’s a perfectly fine young male—but he’s not exactly tip-of-the-spear material, if you know what I mean. I’d pick a good Doberman pinscher over him any night if I was worried about your safety.”
“Oh.” Nate got up and went to the dishwasher with his plate and mug. “Okay.”
“What’s going on, son.”
Not a question. And Nate trusted the male. How could he not? But . . .
“Nothing.” He put his used stuff in with the other dirty dishes. “Shuli was just being weird—”
As Nate straightened and went to turn around, Murhder was right there.
“Talk to me,” the Brother said.
“It was really nothing. We were out at the site, working on the garage—when that bright light thing happened.”
“The meteorite that’s on the news.”
“Yeah. Well, we went to see the hole, and as we were, you know, closing in on the pit thingy, Shuli”—Nate edited out the gun part—“made this comment about how he was supposed to protect me.”
“That shit did not come from us.”
“Guess he was just being—”
“What kind of a weapon did he have on him.” Murhder’s stare was as direct as a baseball bat over the shoulder. “And don’t lie. I can see it in your face.”
“It was nothing.” Three. Two. One . . . “It was a handgun, but he—”
“Jesus Christ,” Murhder snapped. “What the hell is he doing with a piece? Is he properly trained? Of course not. So he’s either going to shoot you in the head or castrate himself—”
“No, no, listen, it’s not a big deal—”
“Any gun in the hands of someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing with it is a very big deal.”
“I don’t want him to get in trouble. Look, let’s just forget it—”
“There’s no forgetting this.”
Nate raised his voice. “It’s not your business!”
“When it has to do with your safety, you bet your ass it is!”
At that moment, the shutters started lifting from all the windows, and the cellar door opened wide. Sarah, Murhder’s shellan, Nate’s mom, stuck her head out. She was already in her white coat and scrubs to go work in her lab, her streaky brown hair pulled back, a set of clear plastic eye protectors hanging off a front pocket.
Her tentative expression suggested she was thinking about putting the safety equipment on right then and there. “Everything okay here, boys?”
“Fine.”
“Yes.”
When Nate realized he and his dad had both crossed their arms over their chests, he dropped his hands and headed for the sliding glass door.
“I’m late for work.”
“No,” Murhder muttered. “You’re not. You still have half an hour.”
Nate didn’t dignify that with a response. He just pulled open the slider and slipped out into the night. Even though he was lit, he still managed to dematerialize off the property, and it was a relief to re-form at work, off to the side of the garage.
He didn’t go inside, even though things had already been unlocked and people were moving big lumps of furniture out of a U-Haul truck that was parked right by the front door. Ducking off into the side yard, he hurried away until he was sure no one could see him.
Getting a jump start on the last bit of painting in the garage had never been the point of coming early. Instead, he headed for the fence line, pulling another over and under with its rails and striding off across the field. As he walked, he replayed the confrontation with his father.
And felt like an asshole.
After which he got frustrated with Shuli and all his shoot-’em-up bullshit.
As he approached the tree line of the forest, he breathed in, partially to calm himself and partially because he was a simp looking for a sign. Unlike the night before, there wasn’t even a trace of that burned-metal smell. No steam, either. And no people. Vampires. Whatever.
Ducking under a branch, he pushed another out of the way—and walked into a third with a curse. Then there were ground obstacles to surmount, step over, go around. He felt like Godzilla wrecking a stage set with all the noise he was making.
The meteorite’s landing pit appeared right where it had been the night before, and it looked exactly the same. But like the thing was a snowbank that was going to melt after hours of being in the sunlight?
At the lip of the impact site, he stared down into the three-foot-deep hole in the earth. Everything was scored from heat, the fallen pine needles and ground scruff burned away, the earth blackened inside the carve-out. Standing this close, he could catch a whiff of the burn-off still, though it was faint.
Where had the meteorite gone? Had it imploded on impact?
Looking up, he searched the sky overhead. So many stars . . . and he had a thought that maybe Earth was like a target at a county fair, celestial beings holding corn dogs aiming things at the glowing blue marble in hopes of winning a stuffed animal.
When that hypothetical made him worry about the mass-extinction event that knocked off the dinosaurs, he searched the trunks and branches of the forest. And the longer he tried to find what was not there, the more he was able to picture the female from the night before, that blond hair, the hooded coat, the darting eyes—
The snap of the stick behind him had him spinning around.
For a moment, he didn’t think what he was seeing was real. He just figured his brain had coughed up a three-dimensional version of what he’d been dreaming of all day long. But then he caught the scent.
Her scent.
And as the complex interplay of absolutely-wonderful entered his nose, he felt transported even though his body never moved.
“It’s you,” he whispered with wonder.
Upstairs, on the second floor of the little cottage, Sahvage went back to the guest room that faced out front. Lifting up the panels he’d just shut, he peered out at the overgrown yard. With the lights off behind him, he was able to see the night clearly through the old, bubbly glass panes.
Nothing was moving. Not around the maple tree. Down the lane. Through the brambles and the tangled veins.
Bending low, he tried to see if the stars—
They were back out. Like a storm had come through and passed by.
He thought of that shadow entity and knew in his bones what was going on—yet he wanted to deny it. After all these years, he had thought that that part of his life was over. Done with. Never to cross the path of his destiny again.
Sahvage rubbed his face. He didn’t want to think about the past. Revisiting that shit in his mind was not the kind of stroll down memory lane he was looking to take—
“Are you okay?”
The words, softly spoken behind him, made him want to jump. But he caught himself and turned around smoothly to face the female who was like a bad penny to him.
Then again, he was the idiot who’d shown up on her front doorstep, so who was the evil one cent’er, here? And even though she no doubt would have been offended, he couldn’t stop from checking to make sure she wasn’t hurt. Again. But nothing appeared injured: She wasn’t limping and he couldn’t smell any blood.
And she sure as hell was staring up at him with totally clear, direct eyes.
That were actually . . . pretty damn attractive. He’d never thought about what color iris he preferred in a female. Attributes below the neck had been his sole focus when he’d been so inclined. But now?
He liked hazel eyes best. Unwavering, intelligent . . . hazel eyes that looked up at him like she was expecting him to justify the space he took up and the air he breathed by being a stand-up guy. Rather than a coldblooded killer.
“Are you okay?” the female repeated as she waved her arms in front of him like she was in a crowd and trying to get his attention.
No worries there, sweetheart, he thought as he reclosed the shutter. You could be standing in the back of a hundred thousand and I’d find you.
“Everything’s great.” He nodded around the dusty room. “All locked into place.”
The female hesitated in the doorway. Her blond-and-brown hair had frizzed up out of the ponytail she had it in, and her cheeks were flushed. Her hands were also shaking, and the instant he noticed, she crossed her arms and tucked them away.
And he wasn’t surprised as she lifted her chin.
“Downstairs, too,” she announced. “We’re fine there as well.”
Sahvage would have smiled. Under different circumstances. “Just curious. What exactly is your definition of ‘not fine.’”
“None of your business—”
“I just realized something. I don’t even know your name. Considering we’ve been all about the life and death for two nights in a row, don’t you think it’s time we make a formal acquaintance? Or are you going to tell me that’s none of my business, either.”
“Bingo.”
“I didn’t figure a strong, independent female such as yourself to be so petty.”
“I’m not—”
“So prove you can rise above me,” he drawled. “What’s your name.”
The female looked away. Looked back.
“Quite a quandary, isn’t it,” Sahvage murmured. “And you screw yourself either way, don’t you—”
“Mae,” she snapped. “My name is Mae.”
Focusing on the female’s mouth, he was tempted to ask her to say it again. Just so he could watch her lips purse.
“Now, now,” he said softly. “Was that so bad, Mae?”
As she flushed and seemed to retreat into her head, no doubt to rustle up some truly creative uses of the words “fuck” and “off,” he jumped into the tense quiet first.
“Is this where you tell me to go? Because I’m not leaving.”
Man, he liked the way her eyes sparked. “This isn’t your house.”
“Yup. I know. It’s why I knocked.”
“This isn’t your problem—”
“Oh, see, that’s where you’re wrong.” He pointed to the window he’d just looked out of. “That thing nearly killed me, too. So you’re crazy if you think I’m not involved now.”
“It’s gone. It’s . . . dead.”
“You think that entity was alive. Really.” He leaned forward. “And how do you know so much about it? I sure as shit haven’t seen a shadow like that before, and I’ve fought a lot of things—almost all of which were living, at least until I was done with them. Never faced off the likes of that. But you’ve, what, shaken its hand and introduced yourself? Traded phone numbers? Do tell.”
“We’re fine, okay. Tallah and I are fine here, together. Alone.”
“You’re willing to bet your life on that? And hers?”
The female tossed her hair over her shoulder, even though it was all pulled back. “You think you’re the only one who can save us? Thanks, I’ll pass.”
