Destiny: A Fantasy Collection

by Rachelle Mills

  At length, she said, “I was really tired of being what was expected of me. Even though I’m younger, Daphne has always been the wild child. Everyone in my family expected me to do better, to go further. I’ve done the smart thing my whole life. But it didn’t get me anywhere I wanted to be.”

  “That’s not very original.”

  She leaned away from him. “Excuse me?”

  He might be right, but who said shit like that?

  “But I respect it,” he continued, holding her gaze, “and as you’re likely aware, I can relate.”

  Her heart beat a clumsy staccato in her chest. She didn’t know how to respond.

  “You need to stop doubting yourself so much, though,” he added. “Hell, we’re both still learning, and you’ve been doing a great job.”

  A blush suffused her cheeks. “Thank you. I really like working with you.”

  It shouldn’t matter so much to her that he said that, but booking that room seemed appealing again. She wanted to push him up against the back of the door and do terrible, wonderful things to him.

  Emma gritted her teeth. This entire night had been one step forward, one step back, like an incredibly unproductive foxtrot. And now, these emotionally honest confessions were driving her crazier than the lust.

  “I’m going to get some water. Do you want anything?” she blurted, stepping back from him.

  Instead of waiting for an answer, she turned around and made a beeline for the bar. Huge mistake. She gasped, feeling buckets of ice water pass through her as she walked.

  “Great, I’m walking through dead people,” she muttered.

  The floating candles above flickered. She was pissing off ghosts, but she couldn’t see them, so how was she supposed to avoid them? Emma took several calming breaths and finally reached the bar. She helped herself to the pitcher of water sitting at the edge of the bar and poured herself a glass. She quickly downed it and poured herself another to sip more slowly.

  Lust is one thing, but stop feeling feelings for the ancient man who signs your paychecks.

  ***

  Henry watched her walk away and straight through a crowd of dancing ghosts. He winced as they started yelling at her to watch where she was going. This had been a bad idea. He should’ve walked her home or called her a cab immediately after finishing at Krueger’s. He was a scholar. And now he was eating cereal on a dance floor and accidentally provoking ire in ghosts he didn’t know. Grant would’ve been overjoyed to see this long-forgotten side of him, but once again, Henry felt foolish.

  Over and over, he’d told himself that the point of this night had been to network. When he’d seen her with a bloodstained mouth, all he’d wanted to do was drag her into a corner, bite her neck, and make her come around his cock. His tongue scratched against one of his fangs—how long had they been down? He hadn’t even noticed. Closing his mouth, he took a deep breath and sucked until they retracted. He was being idiotic. He didn’t want to take advantage of her.

  Henry started to make his way off the dance floor so he could catch up with her and get her out of there. Then a fairy with bright blue wings stepped into his field of vision, glossy black hair tumbling down her shoulders and a smirk on her face. Relief coursed through him. Maybe he could leave and remove himself from temptation. Every minute he spent with Emma felt like he was getting drunker and increasing his odds of trying something risky.

  “Nice to see you again, Daphne. Emma’s been looking for you all night—”

  She lifted a finger to her lips to silence him.

  “Are you sure about that?” she asked and looked at the ghost of a heavily tattooed man who was apparently keeping her company. “I got one text from her when she left the house and that was it.”

  Henry frowned. “She said you were supposed to call her about where you were.”

  Daphne dismissed him with a wave. “Whatever. I’ve been doing my job and telling all my friends and my friends’ friends about my super smart sister who’s working with the vampire lawyer and the amazing work you do to help the Underworld stay safe.”

  Henry cleared his throat as he tried to accept the compliment without getting embarrassed. “I appreciate it. Do you want me to go get Emma? She’s at the bar and probably ready to go home.”

  Daphne shook her head vigorously. “Nope. I just wanted to say ‘hi.’ I’m glad you and Emma are having fun.”

  That raised his hackles. She seemed to mean what she said, but that taunting grin on her face irritated him.

  “Look, you don’t have to worry. Nothing’s going on between us. I’m trying to get her acclimated to the Underworld,” he said, not liking how defensive he sounded.

  Daphne glanced at her dead biker companion again, and they both laughed.

  “Look, I don’t know you well, but from what I’ve seen and heard about you, you and my sister both tend to be buzzkill lawyer types. Now you’re hanging out, and instead of both of you being buzzkills together, you’re dancing. Dancing. Emma doesn’t dance. She has no rhythm. But there you two are, being awkward and adorable together.”

  How long had Daphne been there? He knew the allegations were true, but that didn’t mean he wanted to respond to them.

  “Not to mention the fact that she’s wearing a cape,” she continued. “My sister hasn’t enjoyed playing dress-up since she was a kid. Why would she wear a cape? And why aren’t you wearing a matching one?” Daphne asked. She didn’t sound accusatory so much as…thrilled.

  Ignoring her questions, he said in his most rational tone, “I’m trying to show my very mortal employee a good time so she can feel more comfortable and knowledgeable working with our clients. In the long term. Without any awkwardness.”

  Daphne continued to smirk then waved her finger around her face a couple of times. “This is my ‘I believe you’ face. Bruce believes you too.”

  The tattooed ghost raised his brows and gave a curt shake of his head, which caused his blue aura to blur around the edges. Henry gritted his teeth. He didn’t need flak from a thirty-something fairy and a man who no longer had a corporeal form.

  Before he could respond, Daphne continued, “My grandma turned me into a fairy. Almost all the Chinese restaurants here put lettuce in their wonton soup. Most supernats in this town have seen weirder things than friendly co-workers. Just. Saying.”

  “Yes, and judging by the sheer number of you who get arrested, most supernats in this town have the moral compass of a toadstool.”

  “You’re not nearly as much of a bowl of oatmeal as I thought you were. Be nice to her,” was all she said before she curled her finger at her companion and walked away. The ghost laughed at him but said nothing and floated after her.

  Henry scowled and worked his way through the crowd to get to the bar. Sure, he was practical, but a bowl of oatmeal? Is that what people thought of him when they first met him? When he found Emma, she was holding and staring at an empty glass.

  “Hey,” he said, startling her into dropping it on the bar.

  She set the tall glass right side up and looked up at him. She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “I ran into Daphne, but I lost her. She says ‘hi.’”

  He saw no need to relay the rest of the conversation. He didn’t need to know if Emma also thought of him as a bowl of oatmeal, nor did he want to subject her to any other embarrassment.

  Emma pushed away from the bar and glanced around the room. “Really? Why didn’t she come find me?”

  “It appears that she’s having a lot of fun with the ghost of a guy in a biker gang. She told me she’s been singing our praises around town, though.”

  She blew out an irritated breath but said, “Fair enough. I guess I can rag on her later. I’d wanted to meet some of her friends.”

  “I’m sure you will in the future. At least we got you out and about tonight.”

  He pulled out his phone to check the time; it was after three already. “It’s pretty late. Ready to head out?”

/>   Emma nodded and grabbed her purse from the bar then paused. “But I need a souvenir first.”

  Whatever was between them might be murky, but his ego puffed up a little at that announcement. The night had been good enough to merit a memento. Henry lifted a cocktail napkin bearing the hotel’s logo as a suggestion. When she shook her head, he raised her empty water glass. She started to shake her head again but then laughed and held up her hand. It was impossible not to smile back, even though he had no idea what she had in mind. He watched as she mimed wrapping her hands around a heavy object and picking it up from the bar.

  He gave her a questioning frown, so she explained, “I’m stealing this beautiful bouquet of skulls.”

  He glanced at her empty hands again in case he’d missed something. When he gave her a blank look, she went on, “It’s invisible. You can only see it if you can see ghosts.”

  “But I can see ghosts and I can’t—”

  Emma raised a finger to her lips and shushed him. “The floral embellishments really make the eye cavities shine. It’s a unique find, this skull bouquet. We better hurry up and leave so they don’t see me taking it.”

  Henry couldn’t imagine what had made her think of a skull bouquet, but it was hard to fault her logic. An imaginary vase of skull flowers would be hard to forget. His eyes widened when she opened his jacket and pretended to hide the invisible vase of skull flowers inside. Grinning, he played along and held the nonexistent vase protectively by his side.

  “Let’s get you out of here before you walk through any more ghosts,” he said over the music.

  She led the way. He stayed close, tempted to take her hand in his, but found the will to resist. He would let that little habit die with the evening. Spotting a garbage can near the exit, Henry grabbed the Krueger’s receipt from his pocket to throw it away. Emma glanced down and saw him toss it.

  “I’m sorry about your cereal. We can grab another box before we head back, if you want?” she offered.

  He pointed a scolding finger at her. “Hey, I bought that box of cereal and it died a noble death, fair and square.” He held her gaze. “No regrets.”

  Even though he knew he had to stay professional, he meant that.

  ***

  They left Hotel Congress to find the street nearly empty. It was dark outside, and she appreciated the air’s lingering warmth after the chilly, spirit-filled basement. Time and the water she’d gulped down had helped her process the alcohol, but she still felt a little loopy and her feet were killing her. She’d worn semi-practical wedges, but standing and walking for the past several hours had done their damage. Why did she always think wearing heels wouldn’t be a problem? They weren’t too far from the Barrio, so hopefully the walk would go by quickly. She was in no shape to drive to her apartment, so she would go straight to Daphne’s and crash.

  Their walk home was silent, but Emma didn’t mind the quiet. It seemed like every time she opened her mouth it was to flirt with him, so it was probably for the best if she kept her trap shut. They soon made it to Church Street, but the streetlights had started to disappear right after they crossed Broadway. The few stragglers that had been stumbling down the sidewalk downtown had gone their separate ways by the time Henry and Emma approached the Barrio.

  There was a dim orange hue emanating from an empty, mugger-friendly parking garage and the occasional drooping streetlamp, but for the most part, the streetlights were gone. Thank you, astronomers. The Kitt Peak Observatory held a lot of clout, and Tucson had decided that clear telescope views were more important than not getting raped or robbed in the dark. The Barrio itself was fine, but downtown was uneven.

  They would soon pass the police station, but the building’s lack of windows and military-like structure made it seem like it would only safeguard the people on the inside. Like a robot without cognizance of its own actions, Emma latched onto Henry’s arm for comfort. Whatever—he’d been laying his arm around her shoulder all night like some sort of sexy sloth. She would use him for stability and to make herself feel safer. Besides, it was a very good arm. Always warm and strong. She had no idea how defined his biceps or triceps were, but she found it hard to care. They were his arms, so a rather stupid part of her wanted them wrapped around her.

  Henry looked down at their intertwined arms then back at her with a smile.

  Emma laughed a little too loudly and said, “These shoes. They’re really bad for drunk walking.”

  It was sort of true. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she wanted to get closer to him and smell his cologne. She dimly realized that grabbing onto Henry’s arm as a precaution had been a mistake. The idea of pawing at him in the middle of the sidewalk was growing as appealing as it was inappropriate. Christ, what had happened to keeping her mouth shut?

  “I didn’t realize. I should’ve ordered a cab.”

  She snorted. “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to crash at Daphne’s, so I’m not that far.”

  “Do you want me to walk you there? Don’t want you to have to deal with a coyote by yourself or anything,” he offered.

  Emma groaned. “It’s absurd that that’s a thing we have to worry about downtown. Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine. Besides, don’t you still have to get home…wherever that is?”

  “I’m close by as well,” he said, not taking the bait to mention where he lived. “Are you sure?” he added. “These streets are pretty dark, and my night vision can be useful.”

  While she wanted the company home, she didn’t trust herself not to invite him in.

  “I’m…Well, you…No, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  He leaned in close and said, “I can read your mind and double-check that statement, if you’d like.”

  Her eyes widened. “You mean you still haven’t?” she blurted. Shit. That was the wrong thing to say. “I mean, please don’t do that. That would be not nice.”

  He laughed softly. “I haven’t, but what gave you the impression I was nice?”

  That question genuinely surprised her. “You might be a little ornery, but you’ve been helping me since I started—especially tonight. You don’t micromanage my every move; you’ve given me enough leeway to handle cases myself, only intervening when necessary. You don’t hate Daphne for not telling me about the Underworld beforehand. And you haven’t fired Rick for practicing his magic tricks, even if they annoy you.”

  Henry shook his head. “All of that has been self-serving. I need you as a willing employee, not a servant. Much better for productivity. If I raged at Daphne, then you probably wouldn’t be working with me. Rick is damn good at what he does, which only helps me run my firm better.”

  As they passed the bright adobe houses of the Barrio, Emma thought a moment. “From bailing out your fellow supernats to helping me tonight, I’m sure it’s all to your advantage. But you’re nice. You could be a total asshole to get what you want, but you’re mostly patient. You help people when they need it. And you’ve been respectful enough to not read my mind because that would be ‘highly improper.’”

  She bit her lip. What she wouldn’t give for him to be highly improper right now, consequences be damned. They could probably make good use of that wall on the left if they avoided the cactuses. Any surface, really. As long as he pulled her close and made her forget the world around them existed.

  Henry held onto her arm and stopped walking. Emma stopped too and looked back at him in confusion. Even in the dim light, she could see his gaze rake down her body. She tried not to shiver.

  “I should amend my statement,” he said, his voice rough. “I haven’t read your mind, but you’ve gotten into the nasty habit of accidentally broadcasting your thoughts to me.”

  She swallowed hard. Oh God, what had he heard?

  “I can do that?”

  His hands lifted each side of her black cape and gently moved it out of the way. He cupped her bare shoulders.

  “Let’s just say you recently expressed a fondness for this wall fo
r some reason,” Henry commented as he slowly backed her against the side of a darkened building.

  Emma’s breath hitched. “I did? Well—” she started but realized she had nothing else to say. Her voice of reason was as quiet as the neighborhood.

  His body moved in close. Only a few inches kept them apart. She tried to look up into those perceptive blue eyes, but her own eyelids felt too heavy. She settled for staring at his lips. The bottom was a bit fuller than the top. Stubble on his jaw made him look rakish. It was unfair how transfixing a man’s five o’clock shadow could be.

  “Absolutely,” he said.

  Emma had no idea what they were talking about anymore but found it really didn’t matter.

  She knew she shouldn’t but asked, “What…what else did you hear?”

  “That you’ve wanted to do this for weeks.”

  “Do what?” she asked inanely, her heart thudding in her chest.

  Henry reached up to cradle her neck in one hand and pulled her body flush against his with the other. She gasped. The weight of him was intoxicating.

  “That is an inane question. Do you want me to kiss you or not?” His voice rumbled close, so close to her lips.

  “Please.”

  He pressed his mouth against hers. She remained motionless, too shocked that he’d actually done it, even as she’d known it was coming. Finally, the neurons in her brain fired and processed the feel of his warm, soft lips against hers. She gave in, kissing him back. He felt incredible. The overwhelming feeling of first lust with someone always did. She’d forgotten how completely addicting this initial wave of hunger could be.

  His tongue found hers, and heat rushed across her skin. She knew they were out in the open, leaning against a building for anyone to stumble upon, but she told herself it was late, it was dark, none of it mattered. Emma wrapped her arms around Henry’s shoulders and kept herself pressed against him. The kiss was as heady as any drink she’d had that night. Arousal lanced through her. She wanted more.