by LeAnn Mason
Awesome.
Deciding to nip infatuation in the bud, I withdrew my hand from his and smoothed my pants. They didn’t need it. They were jeans.
He knew that. A questioning lift to his eyebrow asked if I would try to play it off.
“All right then, Your Highness, please lead the way to your preferred… person.” Target would have sounded a bit callous.
“I don’t have earbuds on me.”
“Okay, run and get some.” I refused to meet his eyes, swishing my hand in a shooing motion to punctuate my indifference.
A growl punctuated Rory’s split-second invasion into my personal bubble, forcing a shocked gasp from my lungs before they stalled, forgetting that breathing was vital to living. Beneath the flimsy shirt, his chest heaved against my own, making my body even more aware of the giant’s proximity. Every breath he dragged in, an attempt to reel in the lion, pushed his body into mine. My chest heaved in answer, needing to brush against the wall of muscle every cell in my body lusted for. Those parts not in contact grieved while my chest tingled with each momentary touch.
“Don’t dismiss me. I know how you feel better than you do,” Rory finally ground out, possibly as distracted by our current stalemate as me. Did he war with himself as well? I knew a battle raged within him, but was I adding to that upheaval?
“Forget the earbuds. Let’s just turn the music up loud,” I mumbled with a concerted effort to withdraw from the contact. Taking a step to the rear, I felt the lustful cloud begin to dissipate. It still lingered, probably always would, but at least it was no longer all-consuming. With a push to my glasses, I wove around the specimen of a man that brought to mind that of Adonis. “Let’s go see if music can keep you human in the face of a magical fox girl.” Determinedly, I stalked past his rigid frame and toward the mansion that housed who knew how many Shifters who secretly wanted to harm me. I needed to be around more people. Being alone with Rory Leone was hell on my hormones, and one of those moments, I would crack and do something… regrettable.
CHAPTER 21
Rugs dampened the echoes of our footsteps as we made our way through the halls of Rory’s royal family home toward where I assumed the foxy girl to be. I would hear nothing and then a step or two of click click before they were muted again by the next ornate piece of carpet to adorn the wood floor of this particular hallway. Tapestries and framed portraits lined the walls intermittently. It was all very… formal. And linear, like it was telling a story…
“Where are we going exactly?”
“To the library,” Rory answered without looking back or breaking stride.
Normally, I’d be ecstatic about visiting a library, especially one sure to be full of entirely new information for me, but I couldn’t shake the worry weighing heavy on my limbs. What if I was wrong? What if a song couldn’t force a detachment in his animal? What if this poor girl paid the price of my experiment? What if the library did? A horrified gasp slipped past my lips at the thought.
“Don’t worry,” Rory soothed. He appeared perfectly at ease, a complete departure from what I knew of him.
“You seem very… eager,” I spoke carefully. Didn’t want to offend as I’d been known to do.
“I need to move forward. If this works, my life can resume in more than just grief and anger. I’m rooting for that.”
“Maybe we should queue the music. You know, let it permeate before you attempt contact. You may need a few moments to get the full effect.” Now I really hoped this worked. I’d feel horrible if someone paid the price of my tutelage. Not to mention I had a pretty good idea that the queen would not be happy at my failure. In any other matter? Probably, but not in getting her son squared away. She was very invested in that outcome. “Maybe you shouldn’t just… walk right in, either. Maybe let me go in first and explain the situation?” Would that offend him?
The slow build of melody punctuated with bass and rhythmic clapping built to a chorus that reminded me of an iconic musical. It was upbeat and catchy, lyrics about a man trying to get “locked up” by a girl. I looked sideways at the big Shifter, taken aback. I hadn't expected a song by that particular group to escape his speaker…
He gave a challenging look before sweeping his hand toward a door just ahead of where we'd paused. “Go and warn the woman if you must,” he challenged.
The arrogant tone flushed all surprise from my system, and I slammed the lid on my burgeoning feelings for the royal. If he didn't care about those he could hurt, he was the arrogant prick I'd feared he would be. With a scowl and maybe a stomped step or two, I headed through the room's threshold.
“Her name's Josie, FYI.” Rory's amused baritone drifted from where I’d left him outside the room. With just a step, I knew. I was in another of those coveted spaces I could hunker down and disappear for… ever if left to my own devices. Spinning a slow and awed circle, I took in the floor to more than ceiling shelves. Each mantle gleamed, brimming with the perfect, if varying, number of books to fill it. Not a speck of dust to be seen or inhaled, the spines winked at me like twinkling stars ranging the color spectrum and lent an ethereal brightness to a space that contained zero natural light to refract.
“Can I help you?”
I spun again, this time back to my task. A woman, maybe in her thirties, stood before me. Flowing auburn hair framed green eyes and freckled cheeks. One might mistake her for cute with those features, but crossed arms and cocked hip, accentuated by the crisp white button-down blouse and creased black slacks alluded to a more authoritarian description that escaped me.
“I’m sorry to intrude. Are you Josie?”
“I am. Again, who are you?” she retorted in a voice that was crisp without being short. An oddity. She was almost… aloof in her perusal. The cock of her head toward the open doorway was so slight I surprised myself in noticing. Her eyes never wavered from mine, still demanding an answer.
“Yes, I’m sorry. My name is Mae, and I’m… here, with Rory, to see if we found something allowing him to be more… amenable.” I had no idea how to address who I was and what my function entailed. Hopefully, my explanation was adequate.
As if my words were a Broadway curtain, a masculine voice twanged into being alongside a rhythmic snapping sound as Rory swaggered, swinging his legs and hips, into the room, a Cheshire grin lighting his face. I’d never seen such a playful look about him.
Who is she to him?
Josie tracked him with shrewd eyes and lithe but coiled muscles. “Sir.” She dipped her chin slightly in deference but made no other noticeable submission. She neither shrank away nor puffed herself up. I could see why he would choose her. She might have a tighter rein on the way her magic “reached”. A trumpet announced the beginning of another song on Rory’s decided playlist. This one more my type. I sniggered quietly at my choice of words. They were the basis for this particular song. I covered my slip, bopping my head along to the upbeat and super catchy tune, throwing up questioning eyebrows when they both looked my way.
“Wow. Look at you, all functional-like,” Josie remarked with a heavy dose of friendly sarcasm. The kind delivered to a colleague, not a superior.
Not a prince.
Rory’s answering grin, the fondness in his eyes, bespoke of a solid friendship. Maybe one of only a few he’d ever had if his nature had always made things… difficult for him.
I felt myself soften toward him again. He was just too much when he wasn’t being beastly. Shaking myself loose of the Rory-haze as I deemed it, I straightened, remembering my task. “Right. Now how far are you willing to push your luck, Mister Leone?” At their askance looks, I waved my arms about in some wild semblance of a mimed hug. “Touch.”
The uncertainty written in every line and false wrinkle on his face nearly broke my heart. And then, every line smoothed, for just a second, as the diminutive Josie rushed in and crushed the much larger Shifter to her. A quick, bright smile graced her lips, a light hand lifted to cup Rory’s chiseled cheek. Just a blink, then the
wily fox was gone, leaving the flustered prince and myself in stupored silence. The deep, almost sultry country tune spouting all kinds of “what ifs” wafting from the phone still gripped tightly in his limply hanging hand, only served to punctuate the pause.
“Oh… my… It worked.” A gleeful squeal escaped my lips, hands clapping like a fluttering bird as my mouth and body caught up to the whirring excitement of my mind.
“What now?” Rory’s rich inflection broke slightly, a testament to his surprise. My glass shattering octave was piercing enough to pull a voice from him.
“We can try another,” I fished, formulating more experiments and scenarios in my jumbled head.
There are so many variables! I mean, was it the song? The woman? Would any music be effective? Would it be enough if a situation became tense or unpredictable? The biggest question:
Is music a viable… cure?
“While I'm truly happy that I did not shift, I don't want to push my luck by running headlong into another meeting. Josie is exceptional at keeping things close to the vest and discerning the best course of action in a situation. It's why I chose her. I don't know who else would be as… controlled?”
I conceded his point and brought myself back down to Earth. We couldn't push this, him. Slow and steady, gain as much information about the situation and possibilities which could arise before proceeding. “Okay, let's head back to the garden and go over our results. The next step will be to repeat and see if the result is the same, but maybe we wait until tomorrow for that, huh?”
“Yeah, sure, tomorrow.” Brow crease renewed, I guessed he worried about being able to duplicate this result. He was still very concerned.
“Hey, you did great. I have complete faith that we're on the right track. Soon, you'll be so calm and collected no one will doubt your control. You'll be a magnificent king.”
“If I can function under stress. Then, one day, I will succeed my father. Which is exactly why I need him to wake up.” I didn’t think the part about waking up was meant for my ears. Said low and more growl than words.
The grief I was beginning to become acquainted with flared at his words. A reminder of what I wasn’t telling him, of all that I'd lost.
I wasn’t his savior. I was the reason he’d gone off the rails.
CHAPTER 22
“What happened to the Vampires?” I asked Marie, hand raised like a good little student. A habit I hadn’t broken, but I suspected Marie would. I rubbed the back of my head in an attempt to extinguish the sting from where her palm had contacted. The librarian had wicked-fast reflexes and no qualms about correcting.
“A long time ago, the Vampire royal clan and the Fae queen had a falling out. The Rose clan’s oldest daughter, and heir, Nera was poisoned. Knowing the clan would seek vengeance, most of the Fae fled Grimm Hollow and have stayed away.”
She said it so succinctly. No sympathy. Just fact. Which made me wonder…
“How long ago did it happen?”
“Nera has been asleep for nearly one hundred years,” Marie answered steadily from her spot in front of the long desk Allya and I sat at. We did our supernatural learning lessons at the foremost table in the line spanning the back of the ground floor. There was a little green lidded lamp with golden, or, more likely, brass accents in the center, which did a great job of lighting the rectangular swath of gleaming table where it perched. But only said swath. The edges were bathed in darkness deep enough to make tomes hard to read.
Or, at least, that was my experience. Allya didn’t have any trouble deciphering the ink-laden pages from her spot on my left, Ebony's assistance easily called upon.
Lucky.
We'd discovered early on in our friendship that Allya would need to sit on the left and I on the right. Any other arrangement, and we'd be bumping elbows constantly.
Lefties, always getting in the way. I snorted quietly at my mental jab.
“Did you say…”
“Nera’s still alive?” I asked, cutting over the top of Allya’s stammering. When she narrowed her eyes at me in mock reproach like she always did, I shrugged sheepishly, like I always did. We both knew I had a bit more articulation than she did.
“But asleep? For a century?” Allya asked, sticking her tongue out at me with a flirty wink.
“So where did the Vampires go?”
“Well, they have retreated to their lands in mourning.” I couldn’t tell if Marie skirted an issue or just didn’t want to give more information than we currently sought. Was she being evasive or just minimalist?
“So, there are no Vampires in Grimm Hollow? Elsie made it sound like they were still around. Only said I shouldn’t worry about them sucking me dry because they had more restraint or something.” Allya tried to pull it off like she couldn’t care less, but the restless twitching of her leg told another story. Luckily, we weren’t close enough that we rubbed. That would have driven me nuts. Instead, I noticed but wasn’t consumed by the action, leaving me free to focus my attention on the fascinating topic.
“They are still in Grimm Hollow but have been closed behind the walls of their territory. Very few venture beyond the briars, and their influence has been greatly diminished over the years. I fear they will stay reclusive until Nera can be awakened.”
“Is that a possibility? Couldn’t a Fae reverse the effects? How is it that her body can even be sustained for so long… One hundred years?” I marveled. Now that was something to investigate. Maybe, once I was released from beneath Queen Leone’s thumb, I could look more into the legend. Because, let’s face it, if it happened that long ago, it was history, and history had a way of being misrepresented.
“You said all the Fae left, but I know of at least one here in Grimm Hollow. Sasha, at the Coven House? I think she’s Fae, but I haven’t been able to have any kind of a meaningful talk with her. She’s never outside of the house, and Gloria is always around while I'm inside it.”
“Why does that matter?”
My question was met with a droll look from my friend. “The woman has a complex, treats the poor girl like the mansion maid service.”
“There are a few Fae still within our wards, but most left long ago and have yet to return.”
“This is all just so… fascinating.” I couldn’t help but geek out. I had only touched the tip of the supernatural iceberg, learning the types of creatures within my sanctuary city. Histories, abilities, genetics, strengths… weaknesses. So. Much. To. Learn.
“I always worry when I see that blissful smile on her face. Means she’s conjuring up some type of research. I usually end up as the guinea pig. How about we get back to our prescribed learning, Ms. Marie? Maybe we can rein her in…”
“When are you on patrol the next few days?” Released from our lesson, Allya and I meandered through town and back toward Elsie’s cottage. Our vigilant escort’s eyes roved constantly, searching the darkness between and beyond streetlamps to make sure the boogeyman—who may yet be discovered as reality—didn’t nab us. His fingers, however, were twined tightly with Allya’s; no light would shine through that weave if examined.
“Think you’d be interested in helping me to test Prince Leone?”
“What do you mean?” Jason asked, flicking his roving eyes only briefly in my direction. I knew he’d help if only because I knew Allya would, and he would want to make sure she was safe.
Rory was volatile after all.
“I’ve found a way that, at least upon original application, seems to be a reasonable method of disruption.”
“That’s her smarty-pants way of saying she found a way to keep him from going lion,” Allya translated. I pinked at my lack of social language. I’d been pretty good at layman’s terms of late, but I still fell back into old habits.
Clearing my throat and righting my glasses, I began again. “Yes. I have found a method of… diversion which may help to serve as an… outlet.” That was better, right?
“And what would you need me for?”
“Well, I’m more looking to see if Allya’s, and by extension your presence will incite him
still.”
A very wolfish smile—pun intended—split Jason’s handsome face, the slight stubble across his cheeks unable to fully hide the dimple the act created. “I’d be happy to keep him on his toes. It’s been a while since we’ve hung out. If you can give us at least twenty minutes heads up, I bet we can make it happen.”
My answering grin probably looked about as close to animalistic as a mere squirmy human could muster, but I was excited at the next step of my implementation. I had faith that Rory could master his impulses. That my friends would not truly be in danger.
As we made our final turn onto Elsie’s quiet street, Allya and Jason chittering ahead of me, I prayed I was right. Looking at the perfect picture the cottage created, I lingered. The lit windows created a warmth that spilled out to the flower boxes at their base, the vibrant primary colors distorted, but no less beautiful.
A shiver wracked my limbs as a chill swept the street, knocking the nearly bare limbs of trees behind the cottage together, forming a sound like a drummer beating his sticks to count in its bandmates, only the time was sporadic.
“Come in, child. It's getting too cold for you to be standing out on the dark street,” Elsie chastised warmly. “Allya and Jason are already stuffing their faces. Better hurry and get you some before their animals lick up every last scrap.”
She wasn't kidding either. Those two, and Shifters in general I assumed, gave voice to the saying “could eat a horse.” I loved it at Elsie's. I wasn't sure why exactly. It just always gave the impression of being warm and comfortable. Maybe it was Elsie herself, who was about the sweetest woman alive, or maybe it was knowing that through Elsie, I had a conduit with my parents. It almost felt as though I was constantly touched. Reassured.
