by Jane Cousins
“Will you and your posse be remaining in the area long?”
“We’re enjoying the delightful hospitality of the Hidden Cove Caravan and Camping Ground. Rustic. As for how long we intend to stay? That’s up to Aengus.”
“Well, there he is.” Darcy jerked her thumb towards the back of the room. “I’m not his manager, or gatekeeper.”
“You release your claim on him?” Rowan looked surprised.
“No, I’m just saying you should go directly to the source.”
Rowan’s nose wrinkled slightly as she glanced over in time to see Declan throw his head back with abandon and laugh loudly at something Nate was saying. “He has a rightful place. And it is not here. He will be favoured, worshipped… adored. Want for nothing. A bevy of women to command and grant his every wish. They… I, will not be denied. We’ve been patient long enough.”
Darcy didn’t like Rowan’s possessive tone. “Yeah, about that. You’re going to have to keep a tighter rein on the biker babes, or someone is going to get hurt.”
The edges of Rowan’s lips quirked up, a triumphant smirk as she surveyed the bruises around Darcy’s neck pointedly. “Looks like someone has already been hurt. Just release all claim on him. We’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
Hair? How apt.
The Southern Sanctuary never turfed family out, no matter how wacky, crazy or unique. Besides, if Rowan wanted Declan to leave with them, she should be trying to convince him. Not go the political route and try to threaten or back the Special Liaison into a corner.
Darcy shook her head, channelling her number nine smile. The – I know you think you won this round, but just think about it for a second – smile. “These little love-bites? Nah, what you should be asking yourself is, if I’m here, walking, talking, socialising, just where are your two back-alley betties?”
Rowan’s eyes narrowed as she glanced around the bar.
“You let them off the leash again.” Darcy’s ice blue eyes amped up to glacial. “And next time I’ll be dealing with the owner.”
“We won’t stop coming for him.” Rowan ground out, her teeth clenched, complexion pale.
Darcy had always excelled at show and tell. Certainly her classmates had thought so, perhaps not so much her teachers. Who always had a look of distinct dread in their eyes when it was Darcy’s turn.
Leaning down, Darcy picked up the large clear evidence bag she’d placed at the foot of her stool when she first sat down. Sliding the bag across the bar so that Rowan could get a good look at the contents. “The Locks of Love Charity will no doubt want to thank you for the donation.”
Rowan growled in frustration as she stared at the two thick plaits of hair in the bag. One glossy raven, one lustrous blonde. “We won’t stop coming for him.” She re-iterated.
Darcy considered all her reply options. Elijah and the Enforcers would fight to the death for Declan. Every man, woman and child in the Sanctuary would shelter him. Hadleigh would go ballistic on anyone who threatened her apprentice, and happily drag her meld mate, Vaughn, and all of his Elite Warrior pals into the fray. But the answer that was the most obvious, the most right, was the one that Darcy went with. “And I’ll never stop defending him.”
Rowan tossed down the whisky in her glass and got to her feet, shooting Darcy a hard, menacing look. “This isn’t over.”
“Oh, look at me shaking in my gorgeous boots. Face it, Rowan. You picked the wrong town to dump your baby when you considered him nothing but an inconvenience. What did you think would happen? That we wouldn’t make him one of us? That we wouldn’t take him into our hearts and homes? What the fuck were you thinking, just abandoning him here like that?”
Rowen’s blue eyes sparked with high emotion. “He was meant to embrace his nature. He is Aengus, God of Love and Inspiration. He is beauty and hope manifested in a human vessel. He was meant to conquer. To rule. Instead he acts like some tame pet, dancing to your tune.”
Darcy didn’t blink, didn’t even let her heartbeat change rhythm. Rowen had said it earlier, but Darcy had interpreted her words to mean that Declan was a descendent, a lesser god offspring, but if what Rowen was saying was true… then Declan actually was Aengus, the God of Love. Walking on this earth. Drinking a beer and laughing not twenty feet away.
Shit, she loathed not having all the facts.
Rowen began walking backwards, away from Darcy. “If you won’t willingly give him up, then you leave us no choice.”
Darcy’s glacial clear blue eyes turned bleak ice age. The champagne left in her glass froze solid in an instant. “You harm one hair on his head, if you even think of using violent means to convince him to join your little gang or leave here-”
A mocking smirk lifted the edges of Rowan’s lips. “Violence? Tsk. We are the acolytes of Aengus. Love is our weapon. Persuasion. Coercion. Seduction. Temptation. We’ll see just how tame your little pet is very soon when he faces my Priestesses’ charms. Should we have a little wager on how long it will be before we wake the slumbering God within? No? Then until we meet again.” Rowan turned and twitched her leather clad ass as she made for the door, all her similarly clad followers falling into step behind her.
Darcy wanted to demand Rowen take her Pagan babes and leave the Sanctuary. But the guest rules were clear and sacrosanct. Rowen wasn’t even offering a threat of violence. She was threatening to sick her minions on Declan to seduce him. And just why did that thought catapult Darcy past Ice Age angry into Planet Hoth - Ice World, kill off all life - levels of seething rage?
* * *
Declan was just about to exit the men’s room when the door burst open and he found himself propelled several steps back, his shoulders hitting the red brick feature wall with a dull thud. He quelled his Enforcer instincts, instantly recognising that scent; dark berries, black lily and honey. And he was all too familiar with the knives, one pricking his jugular, the other the inside seam of his jeans.
He’d like to say the second knife was threatening his balls, but embarrassingly, the moment he recognised his attacker he’d gotten more than a little excited. And things had rearranged themselves pretty darn rapidly in his jeans. Awkward.
“If it’s a choice between my money or my virtue. Take my virtue, please.”
“Shut up.” Darcy hissed from between gritted teeth.
“You appear to be a little upset.” Declan managed to comment, grinding the back of his skull into the brick to avoid having his skin punctured as Darcy leaned a little more menacingly into him.
A growl erupted from the back of Darcy’s throat as she pressed up hard against him. That sound was directed at Declan for keeping secrets and herself for descending to a dangerous and rare ice encrusted anger level. Frost misting the blade of her knives. Waves of cold emanating from her.
Declan seemed unconcerned by either the threat of being punctured or by the brutal cold. He just looked slightly bemused, if not a little amused. And… shit, honestly, the man could get excited in a category five Cyclone. “I’ve just been speaking with your mother.”
Declan’s amusement fled, though not his erection. Darcy was pressed up against him, promising violence and dark things, of course he was rampant and good to go. This was kind of a fantasy come true. Except for the part where his long lost mother featured in the conversation. “Did she do that to you?” His gaze zeroed in on the bouquet of different coloured bruises ringing her pale throat.
“No, two of her more exuberant followers, it’s nothing, they’re sporting new haircuts, courtesy of yours truly.”
Declan swiftly assessed Darcy for any other injuries, but found nothing. “You have a gift for violence.”
“Quit it with the flattery and let’s get back to what your mother had to say.”
“You let her get into your head?”
“I can sort the lies from the truth… Aengus.”
“That is not my name.”
“Maybe not.” Darcy peered into those dark violet depths. “But he’s in ther
e somewhere, isn’t he?”
“Look, Darcy, it’s not like-”
Darcy’s leg shot out, her boot slamming closed the bathroom door as it was about to open. “Use the Ladies, this one is busy.” She yelled.
“Hey-” A deep male voice protested and was abruptly cut off.
“Don’t be stupid, Troy.” A second male voice sounded. “That was Darcy. Come on.”
Darcy turned her attention back to Declan now that the interruption was over. “I believe you were telling me what it is like to be the living embodiment of the Pagan God of Love and Inspiration. Have you been playing us this whole time? Laughing behind our backs? Plotting and planning to enslave the Southern Sanctuary so you could add magical minions to the numbers of your mindless flock of devotees?”
The truth was out. Declan had been dreading this day since he was a small child and realised that he wasn’t alone in his own head. Deduced that the beautiful, seductive voice that spoke only to him, promising untold riches, unheard of power and a Harem of a thousand of the most gorgeous women in the world who would make every fantasy he could imagine come true, wasn’t his imagination. He’d instinctively known that the voice belonged to a God that somehow lived in his head, inside of him.
It was a frightening realisation. But the knowledge, the understanding of the situation… it was like it had been hard-wired into his genes. He had a divine purpose. He was a Vessel, designed and made to carry a God. And to gain all that promised wealth, power, those devoted women… all he needed to do was surrender himself. Become Aengus and let Declan melt away.
It might have been a decision beyond most children. But Declan had a rare sense of awareness starting the day he was born, had understood that he was different and now the reason why was obvious.
The thing of it was, that beautiful, seductive voice had a lot of competition for Declan’s attention.
His Dad and his Papa had wept with joy when he’d been given to them when he was only a few days old. They’d pondered long over what to name him. Sang to him. Read to him. Praised him when he took his first steps. Shed tears with him when he fell and badly scraped his knee.
They loved him. Purely. Unconditionally. Even though it was readily apparent that he was different. That he could enchant people with no more than a small gurgling laugh or a flutter of his deep violet eyes. And they hadn’t run or abandoned him when they realised that that enchantment could quickly lead to smothering devotion and sometimes dark, dangerous possessiveness.
Dad and Papa had changed their world to protect him. Never for a moment considering him a burden. They provided him with a safe haven. Supporting him. Loving him. In action and deed, his Dad and his Papa had shown Declan what love meant. It wasn’t wealth, power and the mindless devotion of followers. It was strength, sacrifice, and it was being there… day in day out, even when things got dark or scary.
Saying no, to Aengus, had not required much thought on Declan’s part. He wanted this body, this life for himself. Problem was, he could readily say no to Aengus. But he didn’t have any way to kick the deity out of his head.
Having the God of Love as your co-pilot had made for a very interesting childhood. Aengus was always there, trying to get Declan to change his mind. Always laying traps for when he wasn’t on his guard. Until he was eight. When Declan had a surprising conversation with a clearly unimpressed Darcy who had suggested if he couldn’t create his own shield to hold off the bad things, then he should find someone who could do it for him.
Damn, he’d fallen hard and fast that day.
And now here he was. Balls to the wall. Or should that be knife to the balls, to the wall? Declan laughed. He couldn’t help himself. It was funny. And a sad comment on his infatuation with Darcy how sexy he was finding this situation. He’d been dreading the truth coming out, but now that it had. A surprisingly heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
“Do you remember when I was five, hiding out in the garden during Cousin Maybelle’s Winter Solstice party and kicked over that bee hive and was stung like thirty times? Or when I was thirteen, and Axel was sitting behind me, burped, and set my hair on fire? I was blistered and bald for like a week. And when I was sixteen and almost drowned playing with Caine’s relatives? Or when-”
“Your point?” Darcy growled.
“Do I act like a God, Darcy? I get hurt. I get my ass kicked occasionally, most memorably a few short months ago by Brodie, Valkyrie Princess. I get wet when it rains. My cheeks ache from where the Aunts, Great-Aunts and Great-Great-Aunts are always pinching me. My Dad still scolds me. My Papa still bemoans loudly that I can’t tell the difference between Merlot and Shiraz.”
“Maybe you’re just a really shitty God.”
Declan laughed again, almost disappointed as Darcy took her weight off him, disappearing one knife and pulling back the knife aimed at his jugular a few inches. “I’m just me. I’m not saying I don’t have a grumpy, whiney God on board. But he knows who’s in charge.”
No matter what Aengus offered him, even when it was the girl of his dreams, Declan had always said no. Would always say no. If he couldn’t handle a Hellcat on his own, then he didn’t deserve her.
Darcy stepped back. Letting Declan go completely. A small part of her surprised to find she missed the heat of him, he’d been helping to thaw the frozen chill that had gripped her. Grrr, it was her only weakness. Her patient spider trapping skills, understanding how the web of life worked, how people worked, it was her gift. But add a splash of her father’s ice magic and sometimes… very rarely, she got a little out of control. Going to a very, very cold place where it felt like her heart was nothing but a lump of ice, and nothing, no heat, no sunshine, no light, would ever bring her back to life.
“Your mother believes that she can awaken Aengus.”
“Will you stop calling her that. She isn’t deserving of the title.”
“Okay then, Rowen believes she can awaken Aengus. Be truthful, is she right? Is there a way?”
“No. He needs my consent. And I’ll never give it.’
Darcy stared at Declan hard for a moment and disappeared her last knife. “Okay. You know, it would have been nice if you’d shared all this information a lot earlier.”
Declan shrugged. “Would you have believed me? If I strolled up and said – hey, baby, I’m packing a Love God in my psyche, want me to show you?”
“Not when you put it like that, no. But still, a heads up on what we’re dealing with would have been appreciated.”
“My apologies.” Damn, he liked it when Darcy said it was their problem to deal with, not just his. “But until… Rowen and her followers turned up, it wasn’t really a secret that needed to be shared.”
“Which begs the question. Why now? She’s had twenty-eight years to come back and claim you. Find Aengus. Why is she so fired up now?”
Declan shrugged. “No idea. It isn’t something I’ve bothered to dwell on. But what ever it is, it’s the Pagan Priestesses’ problem, not mine. So, you going to keep roughing me up in the men’s bathroom until I hand over my virtue, or what?” Declan cast a hopeful look her way.
Darcy’s ice blue eyes rolled to the heavens. “Keep it in your jeans, Slick. And keep that God on lockdown.” She glanced at her watch. She had things to do and places to break into, but a small part of her, that still shivering icy part wanted to linger longer in Declan’s presence. Let the natural heat that he exuded warm her. Stupid, she was not and never would be dependent upon another person for anything. She was Darcy Montgomery, Special Liaison, feared, wicked clever and she worked best alone.
Except for this week of course. This week she had a wannabe Enforcer at her beck and call. “Say, what do your Enforcer ethics think about a little recreational breaking and entering?”
“Is it in the name of protecting the Sanctuary?” Declan looked torn, he really wanted to spend more time in Darcy’s company but the Enforcer handbook was pretty rigid when it came to upholding the law.
Darcy thought about it. Gathering medical information about the newborns… if you looked at it with her twisted logic, definitely. Her brother’s place, not so much. “One stop, yes, definitely. The other, no. But the only person who will get upset is Boyd.”
“The Spare?” Declan grinned. “Consider me on board, Partner.”
Darcy opened her mouth to correct him, they weren’t partners, but somewhere deep inside she felt one of the ice shelves break off her cold heart and float away. Weird. She should kill him now. Bathrooms were a good place for that kind of thing, convenient drains, lots of towels. But Darcy’s hand didn’t reach for her knife and it was too late to rescind the offer.
“No more of that partner shit.” She warned. Twirling in place, her mini-skirt flaring up momentarily. “Don’t just stand there staring at my ass, we have places to be.”
“Yes, Boss. I’m coming, Boss. Whatever you say, Boss.”
Damn, and now that liquid warmth was inundating her lower body. She liked the idea of Declan following her orders way too much. His cheery eagerness to please… sometimes she wondered what lengths he would go to in order to keep a woman happy.
Grrr, she was already regretting issuing the invitation to join her. What was up with her even asking? She hoped it was because her instincts were just telling her to keep a close eye on the hiding in plain sight God, Aengus, but truthfully, Declan did make things more fun when he was along. Even though she still found him completely aggravating, that was a given.
Chapter Ten
Wednesday morning their visit to the Wind Elemental Altar in search of clues regarding the whereabouts of the missing Incubus was a bust. Grrr, it irked Darcy, and now her hair was hopelessly tangled. Declan’s mane was of course merely slightly tousled in an annoyingly sexy manner. Aggravating man.
