by Jami Gray
The spicy bite of pepper and cumin rose from the pan as Cheveyo let the taco meat mixture simmer. He grabbed two plates from the cupboard and began putting the tacos together, moving on autopilot. Arguing with Natasha was a pointless exercise in frustration, but since he wasn’t a chaos-loving demon, he warned her to prepare for disappointment since he had no intention of using Tala. The Demon Queen’s response had been a teeth-grinding, canary grin and a murmured, “Never say never, Cheveyo. It’s not good for you.”
Maybe not, but a man had to draw a line somewhere, and, for him, it was Tala.
The shower shut off and a sudden quiet descended. It was broken by the soft click of nails coming into the kitchen. Cheveyo looked over his shoulder to see Ash sitting by the counter, eyes glued to the stove. Catching his wistful look, Cheveyo wiped his hands on the towel. “Hungry?”
Ash gave a soft chuff and flicked a glance his way before going back to staring at the stove, as if will alone would bring the deliciousness to him.
The very telling response made Cheveyo grin. He folded his arms over his chest and stared down at the wolf hybrid. “I don’t think you’re allowed to eat at the table, Ash, no matter how good your manners are.”
That earned him a disgruntled shift of ears.
“C’mon, show me where she keeps your stash, and I’ll get you fed.”
Casting one last mournful look at the simmering meat, Ash reluctantly got to his feet, head and tail down, heaved a heavy sigh, and led the way to the small pantry off to the side of the kitchen. A little snooping confirmed his food and bowl were inside. A few minutes later, Cheveyo set the bowl on the floor.
Tala came in from the hall, braiding her wet hair. She took in the scene as she flicked the end of her braid behind her. “I see someone couldn’t wait.”
Cheveyo straightened and moved back to the kitchen sink, where he washed his hands. “He tried to convince me he had reservations, but alas, I had to inform him we were booked for tonight.”
Tala’s laugh was soft. “It smells good.”
“Thanks.” He finished the tacos he started. “Take a seat, I’ll bring your plate over.”
The sound of chair legs scraping over the floor came a few moments later. He brought both plates over and set them on the table. “Drink?”
“I can get it.” She half rose, but he gave her a stern look, and she settled back down with a frown. “You don’t have to wait on me.”
“I’m not waiting, I’m offering to get you something while I grab a drink.” Recognizing she was pushing for an argument, he kept his voice patient and level. “So, drink?”
“Tea, please,” came the ungracious response.
Turning, he hid his grin. Some things never changed. Drinks in hand, he set hers down and then took his place at the table. The tension from earlier still lingered, but wasn’t as heavy. They ate dinner in a relatively companionable quiet. He finished before her and pushed his plate to the side. Sitting back, he propped his sock-covered feet on the empty chair to his side, content to sit there with her.
With Ash curled at her feet, she finished off the last of her taco and licked her fingers cleaned, before using her napkin. When she caught him watching, a tint of blush hit her cheeks. “You’re staring.”
“I am,” he agreed.
She set her elbow on the table and put her chin in her hand. “Why?”
Recognizing the achingly familiar exchange from years before, his answer came out husky, “Because.”
A small smile peeked out, and her eyebrows rose. “Because why?” Her question held a teasing undertone.
And there she was, the young woman he’d fallen so disturbingly fast and hard for, hidden under the years of responsibility, but there. Memory-tangled emotions flooded him, adding undeniable weight to his voice, “Because I want to.”
Her soft smile faded, and she blinked, her internal barriers coming up as she retreated. But not before he caught the flash of fear she tried to hide. Regret wound through him. Looked like their reprieve was over.
She looked away. “Cheveyo, you can’t—”
“I can,” he stopped her, his tone implacable. “But you don’t want to. Why?”
“Stop it,” she snapped. “Why are you so intent on pushing this?”
“Because you refuse to address it,” he shot back.
“So, what?” She shifted back in her seat and threw her hands in the air. “What’s in the past, stays in the past.”
“Like hell it does.” He dropped his legs and leaned across the table, ensuring she couldn’t avoid his gaze. “Every time you forget to be angry with me and let me in, I catch a glimpse of what we once shared. It’s still there. But there’s something you won’t let go of, and you’re using it to keep me away. Why?”
Her gaze slid from his as she worried her bottom lip and folded her arms over her chest, leaning as far back as the chair would allow. “This won’t work between us.”
“Because you won’t let it,” he said. She was so damn stubborn, but then so was he. “Why?” If she would just answer his damn question, maybe they could untangle this mess.
Her jaw tightened, and she met his gaze. He was thrown by the mix of anger, grief, and love staring back. “Because you won’t stay.” Her sharp accusation could cut glass.
Heeding his instinct to tread carefully, he circled her answer, knowing it hid her real reason. “It was different before, Tala. Not only did I need to solidify my hold on my house, you needed to grow into your position. We couldn’t do that together, not then, not without creating cracks others could exploit.” Her chin lifted, but he kept going, “But it’s not the same now. Our houses are ours, our positions are set. Things are changing, and if we want to pursue a relationship—while challenging—it is possible.”
The militant line of her jaw softened, the turbulence in her eyes receded, and, for a moment, he thought he’d gotten through. “No, it’s not.” Her answer was soft and carried a pain that hurt to hear. She dropped her gaze and her arms to the table, her hands curled into fists.
Unwilling to give up, he reached out and covered one of her fists, gently stroking her knuckles. “Tell me why.” When she lifted her gaze, he added, “Please.”
“If I tell you,” she choked out and looked back down at the table. “I’ll lose you for good.” She lifted her gaze, and he was stunned by the agony staring back. “I don’t know if I can live with that.”
His stomach pitched, and the recently ingested tacos threatened to rebel. He swallowed hard, bracing for whatever she was hiding—because, regardless of what she thought, he couldn’t imagine any secret that would leave him walking away forever. He searched for the right thing to say to ease the deeply entrenched fear staring back and came up empty. Instead, he took a chance and laid himself bare. “I love you, Tala. I’ve loved you for a very long time, whether it was right or not. Rest assured, there’s not much you could do to destroy it.”
“You can’t promise that,” she whispered, pulling her hands away and tucking them in her lap.
His hand curled into a fist, and he drew it back. “Actually, I can.”
She lifted her head, her voice a curious mix of wistful and bitter. “Love doesn’t conquer all, Cheveyo.”
“Trust me, I know.” A lesson he learned the first time he walked away, and not something he wanted to repeat. “If it did, you and I wouldn’t be here now. I may have screwed up by leaving you, but at the time, I couldn’t see any other way to give you a chance to be who I knew you were destined to be. Hurting you was the last thing I wanted, but if it meant you would grow into the power lodged deep in your bones, I’d do it a thousand times over, just to ensure you would always survive.”
“But I didn’t.”
Soft though they were, he caught her words and frowned. “Didn’t what?”
“Survive.” She met his gaze and visibly braced. “When you left—” She stopped, cleared her throat and started again. “When you left, you broke more than my heart.”
<
br /> Gods, it hurt to hear, hurt even more not to be able to ease her pain. He wouldn’t lie to her—he couldn’t do it then, and there was no way in hell he was going to start now. A lump settled in his throat, making it ache and his heart beat with a heavy ache, his voice came out choked, “Please, awéé, find that trust you once gave me and just tell me how to fix this.”
“This isn’t something you can fix, Cheveyo.” The finality of her answer sliced through his heart, but before he could recover, she kept going, desperation making her words ragged. “I lied to you that night when you came to me.”
Uncertain of where this was going, he cautiously felt his way through, like a blind man in a minefield. “About what?”
“I wasn’t fine that night. I didn’t want you to leave, but I refused to keep you here, so I lied.” The tears she tried to hold back escaped and one trailed down her cheek. What she said next tore through his soul. “I was pregnant, Cheveyo, but I couldn’t keep her safe, and I lost our daughter four months later.”
Chapter Eighteen
Tala didn’t dare move, much less breathe as she sat across from Cheveyo, waiting for his reaction.
“Pregnant?” The one word came out flat. His face was wiped clear of any emotion, the only indication of fallout from her confession was the stygian darkness gaining depth in his eyes.
Unable to speak around the suffocating weight on her chest, she managed to nod.
“You knew, that night, when we spoke?”
Another nod, her body so tense she was on the verge of shattering.
He shoved back from the table with such contained violence, she couldn’t stop her instinctive flinch. He grabbed his empty plate, reached across the table for hers, and stalked into the kitchen.
As soon as his back was turned, she scrubbed shaking hands over her face, wiping away the traitorous tears. The sound of stoneware shattering jerked her head up and her eyes widened when she realized he had thrown the dishes into the sink with such force they were nothing but puzzle pieces. She swallowed, hard, while he stood with his arms braced on the counter, fingers curled into a whitened grip on the edge, his head down, and his shoulders rigid.
If she was braver, she wouldn’t be trapped in her chair. Instead, she would go over and make him listen. The wave of his suppressed anger grew, making the air heavy. She wasn’t that brave. She couldn’t even find her voice to begin explaining, so she waited. Waited for him to demand the answers he deserved.
His head lifted, and, with night playing backdrop, the window above the sink acted like a warped mirror. Roiling power seeped around the edges of his control, like a fire seeking purchase, and brushed against her with stinging nips. She reached for her magic to shield from the approaching storm. She knew the minute he realized what she’d done because his energy disappeared between one breath and the next. She didn’t drop her gaze, even as his burned. Nor did she release the hold on her magic.
“Tell me.”
It was no less than a demand, but she heeded it. In this, his anger was justified. She reached for her voice, found it, and gave him what he asked for. “I found out a few days before you left, but I was trying to figure out how to tell you. Especially since things between had been so…” She paused and frowned, trying to put the right words to that long ago scene. “…strained between us. You were pulling away, which at that point, I didn’t understand why.”
He straightened and turned, his face dark, but thankfully he stayed quiet, letting her talk.
“I thought you were bored with me, and when you told me you were going back to Portland, you were so distant.” And looking back through the lens of years and experience, she now recognized it for the protective shield it was at the time.
Her admission cut through his anger and ignited a look of disbelief. “Bored?”
The little bite of censure underlying his question eased some of the pressure on her chest. “Yes, bored. Think about it, Cheveyo.” He was her first lover and her mentor—mixing the two hadn’t been smart on either of their parts. “You were the first man I ever slept with, the first one I let into my heart. To have you tell me that I needed time to grow and stand on my own, felt like you were telling me I was too young for you, too weak to be with you.”
Some of his stillness melted and he shifted his feet before running a hand through his hair. “That wasn’t it, at all, Tala.”
“Yeah, I know that. Now.” And she did, but at the time, scared and hurt, it had been a completely different story. “You broke my heart, and, angry and hurt, I wanted to strike back the only way I knew how.” A childish reaction, sure, but she had been relatively young at the time and trying to find not only her place with the Magi, but who she was as a woman. To have the man she loved tell her she wasn’t enough tore through hopes she hadn’t even realized she carried. “So I made the decision to say nothing, to let you leave. If you didn’t want me, there was no way I was going to tie you to me with a child neither of us expected.”
“It was my child, too.” Though he kept his voice soft, the implied accusation made her wince.
She dropped her gaze, old shame coming back for a visit. “I know,” she whispered. Taking a shuddering breath, she lifted her head, determined to get it all out as the time for secrets was well and truly past. “I would’ve called and told you.” And she would have, once she worked through the fallout from his rejection. “I just never got the chance.” Her stomach clenched, and she wrapped her arms around her waist.
Whatever he saw on her face dulled the edge of his anger, the harsh lines softening. “What happened?”
“At first the pregnancy was going along just fine, and I didn’t share it with anyone. I wasn’t ready.” For their questions or their whispers, and there would have been both, in spades. The young, newly instated Magi being seduced by the charming and powerful older witch, was not a story she could afford to have bandied about when she was trying to establish her position. “When I finally did tell someone it was Hadley, and eventually Teagan and Danny. I made them swear not to say a word, not until I had a chance to tell you and make sure I could protect my baby.”
“We could have protected our baby.” His correction was strangely gentle.
And that possibility haunted her even now. The damn tears were back, but she refused to let them fall and dipped her chin in a jerky nod. “I knew the minute I told you, you’d be back, but—”
“But reaching out for help might make you look weak,” he replied, saying what she couldn’t, grasping the merciless truth of the situation.
“And I wasn’t ready to make the announcement.” Young though she was, she hadn’t been blind to what having a newborn meant in regards to her position as the head of the Magi house. “I was four months along and making plans to call you and tell my house what was happening, when I got this twinge in my back. At first, I thought I pulled something, a muscle maybe. Then, that afternoon, I started bleeding. Hadley took me to the hospital, but by morning, the baby was gone.” Even now, years later, the agony of that morning clenched her heart and she couldn’t even begin to try and explain it to him. She drew her legs up, wrapped her arms around them, and buried her face in her knees, unable to fight back the memories or the sobs.
When his arms slipped around her, she uncurled enough to turn, wrap her arms around his neck, and press her face into his chest as hot tears seared her cheeks and dampened his shirt. “I tried to keep her safe, I swear,” she choked out, her voice muffled.
“Shh, bił hinishnáanii.” He kept moving, taking her to the living room. He settled on the couch, keeping her in his lap, one hand gently stroking her spine. “It’s not your fault.”
But it sure as hell felt like it, and it chased her into nightmares—that something she’d done, the choices she’d made, cost her their child. It didn’t matter how much therapy she underwent, that guilt remained, and would probably always do so. Keeping it from Cheveyo hadn’t helped, and after his visit last year, that guilt grew to choking proportions
. It was the same caustic mix of shame and guilt that drove her to blackmail Raine into saving his life from the Soul Stealer, regardless of the cost. She couldn’t face the possibility of losing him, too.
As the minutes passed, he continued to hold her. Exhaustion took over, replacing tension’s hold and softening her locked muscles. Her tears finally stopped, and her ragged breathing evened out, but under her cheek she could feel him, coiled and tense. She finally looked up to find him staring out into the room. Cupping his jaw, she nudged his attention to her. “Cheveyo?” A hundred questions spun in his name.
His dark gaze drifted over her, harsh lines adding an unforgiving cast to his face. He traced a line along from her temple to chin, his touch butterfly soft. “You said, ‘she.’”
Needing to give him something after taking so much, she managed a shaky smile. “A little girl. The doctor tried to say it was too early to tell, but I could sense her, just a couple weeks earlier, like a fragile butterfly. I named her Aponi.”
He traced her fading smile with a gentle finger, his eyes turbulent. “Aponi,” he repeated softly, grief seeping through his harsh control, “is a beautiful name.”
His gaze continued to search her face, while his thoughts remained locked behind an impenetrable mask.
She could no more stop her doubts and insecurities from rising than breach his mask. Tension crept back in, creating a distance touch couldn’t bridge.
He dropped his hand and began to shift her off his lap. As he set her aside, she swore she could feel him shutting down on a level she couldn’t reach, leaving her off-kilter and unsure. “Cheveyo?” She pressed a palm against his chest in feeble protest.
He covered it with his hand and gave a careful squeeze, before drawing it back to her lap. “I’m going to go for a walk.” He pushed up from the couch and stood.
