by L. C. Son
This can’t be good.
I lean my head against the seatbelt post, allowing the cool air of the evening to bring relief to the light-headed bout of nausea slowly forming. The streetlights all seem to combine into one long white stream of light while the twinkling stars shimmer blinding light into my irises. My senses are also all over the place. With the next full moon so close I’m used to a bit of lycanthropic overload—but this feels different.
Strange.
Thankfully, I don’t have long to try to shake off the lingering effects of the alcohol as Tye’s racecar-like driving has us at my place in no time. Still, my legs feel like gelatin when I rush myself to stand to get out of the car. Once more, Tye is a welcome companion and at my side in an instant. I pull my key out of my pocket and hand it to Tye, and we proceed down the walkway.
While I’m rather sure there are no more than five steps to climb to the landing of my townhome porch, tonight it looks like the stairway to heaven. I try one step, but my legs flail with just the bend of my knee.
“Perhaps we should just go around back,” Tye suggests. My head nods in agreement before I have an opportunity to speak and Tye laughs slightly as he leads us to the backyard. I’m sure he’s quite amused. No one has ever seen me intoxicated before. Not even me.
I hate doing things in excess just for the heck of it. Even more, being the Type-A admitted guy that I am, always used to being in control, this is not my norm. But hey, I guess if there were ever a night to take a break from the norm, tonight is the night.
We’re in my basement in an instant and Tye helps me to Damina’s favorite chaise lounge chair. Tye offers to get me some water and rushes upstairs before I can remind him there’s water at the bar. Again, my lips are too slow to respond.
Laying on the chair, Damina’s fragrant scent of vanilla and Eucalyptus is woven into every fabric rising to meet my nostrils. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, thankful for just the aroma of her presence. In a flash, a replay of our passion earlier today sparks through my mind and my heart races with both excitement and desire. Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.
As I reminisce, I hear a lilting chuckle that sounds familiar but is hard to place. I call out for Tye, wondering if someone else is here, but he doesn’t answer.
I open my eyes and see Tye’s shadowy form in front of me. It still feels like someone else is in the room with us, but I don’t see anyone through the now murky coating of my eyes.
Crap! What was in that hooch?
“Here’s your water,” Tye says in a low and slightly gruff tone.
“Thanks, man,” I answer, gulping the water down to cool the heat rising within me. “Is there someone else here?” I question, trying to ignore the salty taste of the water which does little to sate my thirst.
“You—um—do have a visitor I suppose.”
“Who?”
“Well, I hope I’m more than just a visitor,” a soft feminine voice calls to me from behind. As an hourglass silhouette rounds the chaise, Damina’s scent glides past my nose in the wind carried from her movement and the chair.
“Damina?” I question trying to discern through the muffling sound of my own breathing. Tye places another tray on the lounge in front of us and quickly leaves my view. I squint and wipe my eyes, trying to see through the veiling of my own intoxication, but I cannot. It doesn’t matter, I’d know her sweet tone anywhere. Though her footsteps sound heavier than usual, all I can think of is having her in my arms again.
Desire sweeps over me as it did this afternoon the moment she places her hand in mine. But this time is different. I don’t think I have the strength to let her go. Perhaps it’s the alcohol having its way with me, but I don’t care. I don’t even know what brought her here. I’m just glad she came.
Pulling her into my embrace she straddles my lap, pressing me down into the chaise and our passion rekindles just where we left off this afternoon. Strength rises in the seat of my pants once more and I now have no doubt that waiting another day to make her my wife is no longer an option.
She is mine tonight.
Dalcour
Chasing the remaining Scourge from the premises isn’t my idea of a night on the town. We barely had a moment to relish in the fact that Brian saved the baby before four other vipers made their presence known. However, they were easily beaten when Cedric’s wife Abigail and her companions surprised us with their aid.
In the last five decades, we’ve added more women to the Guardian’s detail; much to Titan’s displeasure. His old-world charms are archaic and certainly out of touch with the times. He still believes women are for nothing more than his pleasure. While I’ve undoubtedly indulged myself with a parade of women at his side as of late, it’s not because I think of them as objects only for my enjoyment as he does. I just haven’t found my equal.
Frankly, I’ve given up hope that such an equal exists despite Jerrica’s claims.
Still, watching how Cedric and Abigail fight side by side, stealing kisses from one another all while fending off attacks in such harmony, I can’t help envying their pairing. They are happy and completely in love.
Cedric and his brother, Lux were born both half-Altrinion and half-Wolf. Born with the luxury of deciding their own fate, Lux always knew he wanted to embrace his wolf while Cedric remained undecided. That is until he met Abigail. She and Braelyn were in the same cell block of rogue Scourges that Titan found on his patrol. Braelyn was easier to tame than Abigail—probably because she never wanted to be a vampire in the first place. Abigail, on the other hand, was a different creature altogether. She embraced her nature, fearing neither death nor pain.
Titan was convinced that we would have to put her down, but Cedric persuaded Titan that he could tame her. I’m still not sure just what happened in the taming wells of the Civility Center between Cedric and Abigail. What I do know is that when they came out on the other end, they came out together.
“My lord,” Lux begins as he pulls me back when I near the edging of the Bayou Bienvenue. I’ve let my mind wander too far. Jerrica and Braelyn’s pleas for me to find love are beginning to get the best of me.
Shake it off.
“I’m good,” I snap, freeing myself from Lux’s grasp. I don’t need another person trying to save me. He stares at me as if he wants to say more but restrains himself.
“No worries Lord Marchand, the mighty duo won’t let those vile beasts get any further than the bluff,” Lux continues with a haughty laugh while proudly pointing to his brother and sister-in-law as they tear the creature’s limb from limb, tossing them into the water.
“Very well then,” I reply, squeezing Lux’s shoulder in agreement.
“We found something!” Cedric shouts, waving for us to come to him.
“What is it?” I question.
“I’m afraid it’s for you, my lord,” Abigail adds as she pulls a bloodied shirt from the lifeless creature’s hand.
Horror fills my soul as I read the words, “The Countdown Has Begun” smeared across the chest of the fallen creature.
This is no mere warning. Decaux is declaring the start of his war.
“What is the meaning of this Lord Marchand?” Lux asks as though he doesn’t understand the reason for the dread expressions now marred across Abigail and Cedric. But as the three of us stare at the bloodied lettered words we immediately understand its intent.
“It’s my brother, Decaux. He’s warning me that my time limit is nearing its end,” I reply, snatching the shirt from Abigail and stuffing it into my pocket.
“I don’t understand, the Civility Centers are thriving and your treaty with the local Dunes Pack is running smoothly. Why is he trying to cause panic now?”
“Because there is still more to fear,” I say, hardly above a whisper. Abigail clinches Cedric’s fist, squeezing it as they both exchange worried glances.
“Lux, all that matters now is that we keep these borders safe. Take some of Abigail’s company with you and let Titan know the remaining Scourge have been disposed of. Cedric, you and Abigail tend to this area for a duration and ensure no more Scourge remain near this post. I need to return and see that Brian is well. Jerrica will have my head if I don’t.”
“But my lord, perhaps one of us should go with you just in case,” Cedric says, grabbing my arm preventing my exit. I snatch my arm back without hesitation. The thought of Decaux threatening me is more than irritating. I need to be alone.
“I’ll be fine, my friend,” I respond, attempting to rein in my rage as Cedric’s fear-wrought eyes gaze back at me. Squeezing Cedric’s shoulder reassuringly, I smile, and he nods in kind. As I look up, I catch Abigail watching our exchange. I can tell she is more worried for Cedric than she is for me. And she should. My temperament hasn’t been steady as of late, but I wish to keep it without incident. Widening my smile, hopeful that it meets my eyes, I nod to Abigail and once more at both Cedric and Lux before racing back to Salvadorè’s home.
Every curse and expletive in every known tongue erupts from my mouth like a volcano. My feet can’t move fast enough against the wind to catch flight. I need to soar above the city just enough to shed myself of the weight of it all. My mind is a crammed cluster of rage and fury tinged with a grain of hopelessness.
As much as I want to put an end to my brother’s schemes once and for all, I am becoming doubtful such a feat is possible. Every time I think I’ve gained ground; I realize I’m far from the goal.
Too far indeed.
I scan the city from as far as the Quarter to the Tremé in a blink all while I do my best to quench the torrent brewing within me. The last thing I need is to draw too much attention to myself and bring more Scourge out from hiding. Hovering over the city I inhale deeply and try to detect the putrid smell of either Scourge or Skull and am relieved to find neither. But my relief is short-lived when the aroma of drying blood fills my nostrils causing a twinge of nausea to ripple through me.
The smell leads me straight to Salvadorè’s courtyard. While I’m thankful the onslaught is contained to just this location, seeing Brian’s grim expression sends a barreling pain straight to my gut. With the baby still wrapped in his blazer in one arm and the tattered body of Mr. Abahana in the other, terror strikes the core of me seeing Brian is such a grisly state.
Approaching slowly, I walk through the puddles of drying blood and human remains, trying to discern Brian’s disposition. The most troubling part is since he is a wolf, I can’t read his mind or hear his thoughts. I don’t know what he’s thinking right now. And I dare not ask.
As I get closer, I see the baby wiggle a little in his arm and Brian responds with a firm yet gentle sway, calming the child back to sleep. The baby is small—too small to survive without medical treatment for long. I would guess the newborn is no more than four pounds at most.
“We should get the baby to a hospital, Brian. I can compel the doctors to treat him immediately.”
“There’s no need,” Brian responds in a grim tone.
“Brian, just let me help you,” I answer, kneeling to meet his eyes.
“Can’t you smell it?” Brian’s eyes are dark as he glares back at me.
“Smell what? What are you talking about, Brian?”
“Death. It’s all around us.”
I watch as Brian’s whispered words echo like the wind through the courtyard and his golden eyes blaze with both fury and sadness. Looking around the courtyard all I see are corpses. Mostly human, a few wolves and vampire but mostly human. From the looks of the cracked pinata and festive décor I now see the violence interrupted a party.
“Brian, we must get the child out of here and to the hospital,” I plead once more, hopeful for Brian to regain his focus as his hand caresses Abahana’s entrails and his open body.
“There’s no need. He’s already gone,” Brian responds, now squeezing the hand of his mentor.
As I part my lips to protest, Brian swings his other arm around and places the baby in my hands. My mouth remains open as I watch in horror as the baby squirms, taking one last breath and his now bluish body goes still.
One lone tear falls from Brian’s eye but his gaze pierces straight through me. And while I can’t read his mind, one thing is clear: He blames me for it all.
Chapter 5
Jackson
If the sound of glass crashing into a thousand pieces against the wooden floors of my basement was my only problem tonight, it wouldn’t be a problem at all. Instead, it’s the shattered pieces of Damina’s broken and bleeding-heart laying before me now that plummets my soul to its reckoning. Seeing the pain, hurt, and fury in her eyes lets me know that I am no longer the broker of her heart’s joy.
I am the death dealer of her heart’s soul.
I am her enemy.
Her heart, the one thing I claimed was most precious to me—the one thing I vowed to protect with my very life is the one thing I have destroyed.
I care not for the perpetrator now laying at my feet. The moment Damina crossed the threshold I watched in disgust as the changeling before me was released and Kyra’s duplicitous form was revealed. Throwing her from my lap to the cold floor was the nicest thing I could think to do. With my bride-to-be before me, I dare not show further cruelty by enacting on Kyra something more fitting of her treachery.
Even still, I sincerely doubt I could look any worse in the eyes of my beloved.
How could I be so stupid? How could I be fooled by the oldest trick in the lycanthropic lore? There isn’t enough wine and spirits in this world or in the world of men that would make me succumb to Kyra’s tempting. I never wanted to bed her before, and the thought alone sickens me now.
And she knows it—that’s why she used a changeling.
Yet as much as I want to understand the how and why of it all it doesn’t matter. I only want her out of my sight—before I kill her.
There’s little I can do to quench the alpha within me from rising as a vicious, “GET OUT” roars through me. Kyra trembles at my feet—as she should. But she dares not cross Damina’s fiery-eyed path. I don’t blame her. Fear strikes a chord within me as well, but I know I must endure whatever pain necessary before this night meets its end.
As Kyra retreats, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and notice my wolf-form piercing its way through as my muscles protrude and my stride lengthens. Clinching my jaw tight, I do my best to calm myself. I don’t want to phase in front of Damina like this for the first time. That would be too much to bear.
“Damina, please let me explain. Please,” I plead, softening my stance to meet her pain-staked face. She instantly steps back, wary of my touch. As she stares at me through flame-filled eyes, I know with all certainty that my touch is the last thing she wants.
She quickly turns away from me and runs to the patio. Her body immediately convulsing as she steps into the grassy area and vomits. Watching tremors rage her body with the aftershocks of nausea caused by my betrayal crushes my pride and I rush to her aid, giving no thought for the broken glass piercing my feet as I race to her side.
Even with the pain of glass fragments piercing my flesh, I wrap my arms around her, hoping to steady her as she sways back and forth. The only thing that matters to me is her. Damina’s body feels hot like a furnace. A flame-like glow emanates through her reddened pores and I’m almost afraid to touch her, but I press my body forward, cradling her into my chest.
There’s no injury too brutal that I wouldn’t endure just to have her in my arms right now.
But alas, I’ve spoken too soon.
With a thunderous bolt of power, Damina sends a hurling energy through my body, shoving me hard with her hand clear across the yard, knocking me into the nearby pergola. Thankfully the hammock at my back takes the brunt of my impact.<
br />
“Jackson!” I hear Gregory shout from the fence with Dacari at his side. I’m not sure just how long they’ve been here or how much they’ve seen, but with the daggered-eyed gaze Dacari is giving me I know she’s seen enough to hate me too. This won’t end well.
Gregory speeds across the yard and is at my side in an instant. Dacari keeps her sights on me as she walks cautiously toward Damina, obviously wary of her cousin’s newfound and luminous form.
“Where is Tye?” Gregory asks, propping me up against a lounge chair. Hunching my shoulders, I nod with uncertainty. It’s a good question, but not the most pressing. I need to find a way to calm Damina before she explodes. Sophie mentioned that Damina sparked a little fire earlier at Sonfries when she first saw Kyra. This pales in comparison.
“What did you do to my cousin, you jerk?” Dacari shouts with a bright golden hue flickering quickly in her eyes. Her eyes too reveal a deep wound as tears freefall down her cheeks, but I don’t have time to concentrate on it. Gregory squeezes my shoulder, and we both stare at one another fearful that both women might induce their supernatural form for the first time tonight.
Delia will be pissed if that happens, but she is the least of my concern.
Gregory signals to Dacari to calm her temper as he points to the neighbors beginning to take watch from their windows. Crap! Now we’ll have to smooth this over if they see too much. I gaze at Damina and am hopeful to see the flaming light around her fading.
“If you laid one hand on my cousin that will be the last thing you’ll ever touch, you moron! I’ll kill you if you’ve touched her. Even just once!” Dacari’s venomous words shoot clear across the yard as if she stabbed me in the chest. The thought that I would ever willingly hurt Damina is unconscionable.
But I did hurt her.
“I didn’t touch her, Dacari!” I contend. Though I know I should keep my voice down, any suggestion to the contrary pains me to my marrow.
“Hey, everyone needs to settle down. Let’s go in the house and stop giving these people a show,” Gregory says in a tone softer than I’ve ever thought my hardline ally capable.
