by I. T. Lucas
“No problem, boss. Your secret is safe with me.” Anandur winked.
“And don’t tell Bridget about Turner either. She’s going to get mad at him for drinking too much. I’m going to splash some water on his face and then have him drink lots of coffee. Hopefully, it will be enough to revive him.”
Anandur saluted. “Got it.”
Annani opened the door as soon as Kian got there. “What took you so long?”
“I didn’t know how much he could take. I didn’t want to accidentally kill him. Not even your intervention would have helped him then.” He carried Turner to one of the guest rooms and laid him on the bed.
Annani followed. “Go guard the door.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Kian got out and leaned against the door from the other side, crossing his arms over his chest.
It was his mother’s show now, and she knew exactly what to do.
About thirty seconds later, she called him in. “It is done.”
“What now?”
“Now we wait. But not here.”
“Right. It would look suspicious if both of us hovered over him. I’m going to smoke outside. Do you want to join me?”
“I do not smoke.”
“Does the smell bother you?”
“It does not. I can sit outside with you.”
Their yard wasn’t much bigger than their penthouse terrace at the keep, and the lap pool was about the same size too. Okidu had his own little house in the back that he was now sharing with his brothers, Annani’s Odus, but none of them were there now or about to return any time soon. They were busy preparing food in the commercial kitchen and serving it.
Annani sat down in one of the rocking chairs. “It’s so nice out here. The air is fresh. My place is beautiful, but it is in an enclosed dome. No crickets, no night birds. No matter how well done, it is still artificial.”
“Would you like to move in here?” It would be a security nightmare, but if Annani were unhappy in Alaska, he would do his best to make it work.
“No, my dear son, but thank you for the offer. I like having my own place. If I move in with you, Sari would be offended. I would rather visit both of you from time to time.” She smirked. “Not too often, though. I know you can only handle me in small doses.”
“I love you, but you are not easy.”
“I know. That is why having my own place is good for everyone.”
Kian couldn't argue with that, nor did he want to. Annani ruled over her stronghold and let him rule his, mostly as he saw fit. The arrangement worked well for everyone.
“You’re welcome to visit as often as you like. I can’t promise to spend much time with you, but that shouldn’t stop you from coming. Syssi is always happy to see you, and so is Amanda. You can even schedule a few visits with some of your other family members.”
Annani smiled. “I will think about it. For now, I am more concerned with Bridget’s man. I hope that what we have done helped him.”
“I wish I knew what to expect. We don’t know how Turner’s body is going to react. What if he goes straight into transition? It will be hard to explain. I don’t think people will buy the story of your proximity to him affecting the change.”
Annani laughed. “No, I do not think that explanation will work. You will need to tell them that you bit him.”
“In secret?”
“Why not? You can say that you did not want to make a big fuss out of it. The opportunity presented itself, and you decided to take advantage of it. Turner was passed out so you could bite him without scaring him.”
Kian chuckled. “Turner is not easily scared. No one would believe that I was concerned about that.”
“How about him making you angry?”
Kian shook his head. “Not good either. But I can go with the no-fuss story. I did it to see if it worked and didn’t tell anyone not to raise their hopes.”
“That sounds very noble of you. I like it.”
Pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, Kian took one out and lit it. “How did I get my venom glands going, though? What was the catalyst?”
Annani rocked on her chair. “Did it ever happen to you just from getting angry?”
“I would have to get very angry for my fangs to elongate without provocation.”
“Well, you can say that you thought about extremely annoying things.”
“It’s weak, but no one can prove that it’s untrue.”
41
Bridget
“Did you see Turner?” Bridget asked Syssi.
“No, and I can’t find Kian either.”
“Maybe he went to the house to keep Annani company?”
“I’ll go check.”
As Syssi walked away, Bridget wondered if Turner had gone with Kian but then dismissed the possibility. Although the two had looked quite chummy when she’d gone to change clothes, standing at the bar and sharing drinks, Kian would not have taken Victor to his house while Annani was there.
She made another round of the square, looking out for Victor’s bald head. After all, none of the immortals were bald, so his shiny scalp should’ve stood out. Except, Turner was shorter and not as easy to spot as Anandur or Yamanu, who towered over most of the guests.
Her own diminutive height wasn’t helping either.
Perhaps she should climb on a chair?
Or better yet, she could ask Anandur or Yamanu to point Turner out to her.
Bridget pushed her way through to Yamanu, who was closer. She tapped his forearm. “Can you do me a favor and find Turner for me? Look for the bald head.”
“Sure thing.” Yamanu stretched his long neck up and scanned the grounds. “I can’t see him. Perhaps he’s in the loo?”
“Could be. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Knowing Turner, he’d found some dark corner to hide in or was indeed using the loo, but not for its intended purpose. He was probably sitting there and reading on his phone to avoid mingling with people.
The question was whether he was using the public restrooms at the village square, or had he gone home.
Home. She wished one day it would be.
They were staying at her future house in the village, one she would one day share with Turner if all her wishes came true.
Julian, who had not been assigned village lodging yet, was staying with them for the double celebrations. She spotted him standing in line for the buffet and chatting with Robert.
She was about to head his way and ask him whether he’d seen Turner when Syssi waved at her. “I found him!”
“Kian?” Bridget walked toward Syssi.
“And Turner. They are at the house.”
“Turner is with Kian while Annani is there?”
Syssi winced. “Technically, but not really. He passed out from drinking too much, and Kian took him home to lie down.”
Bridget’s gut twisted. Victor wasn’t a heavy drinker—his self-control was too strong to allow for excessive consumption of anything. The man even didn’t eat bread, for fate sakes, because he was watching his carb intake. And he wasn’t the type to succumb to peer pressure either—too smart and too individualistic.
Something else must’ve caused him to pass out. “I’m going to check up on him.”
“Yeah, that was why I came to get you. I told Kian you should make sure Turner was okay.” Falling in step with Bridget, Syssi shook her head. “I’m telling you, men are sometimes so obtuse. Kian said that I was overreacting, and that I shouldn’t get you because you’ll get mad at Turner. I told him you’d get doubly mad if no one bothered to tell you and you ran around looking for him, imagining the worst. Right?”
“Absolutely. I was starting to get worried.”
“Yeah, I would’ve been worried too. I found Kian sitting outside with Annani and enjoying his cigarette, not at all concerned about the man passed out in our guest bedroom.”
As they reached Syssi and Kian’s house, Syssi led Bridget directly to the bed
room Turner was sleeping in.
And he was indeed sleeping, not unconscious. Just to be on the safe side, Bridget checked his pulse and heart rate. Everything was normal. When she nudged Victor, he groaned and turned to his side, cradling his head in the crook of his arm.
Bridget let out a sigh of relief. “He is fine.”
“I thought he was, but I wanted you to make sure,” Syssi said. “Do you want to come outside with me and say hello to Annani?”
“Of course. It would be rude of me not to.” What she really wanted was to give Kian a piece of her mind.
“Good evening, Clan Mother.” Bridget bowed. “Kian,” she acknowledged his presence.
“Bridget.” He puffed out a ring of smoke.
“Hello, Bridget,” the goddess said. “Are you enjoying the festivities?”
“Very much so, Clan Mother. May we always meet on such joyous occasions.”
Annani smiled. “Indeed.”
Was the goddess even aware of the human sleeping in the guest room? Had Kian brought Turner in, while his mother was enjoying the crisp night air outside?
Syssi sat on the outdoor couch and beckoned Bridget to her. “Come sit with me.”
Following Syssi to the sofa, Bridget sat down and asked, “What happened?”
Kian might’ve not wished to discuss Turner in front of the goddess, but Bridget’s question was general enough for him to divert the conversation in another direction, letting Bridget know that now was not a good time.
“It’s my fault. Don’t be mad at Turner.”
Okay, he’d given her the green light to talk freely in front of Annani. She lifted a brow. “Did you force him to drink?”
Kian took another puff from his cigarette. “Pretty much. I challenged him to keep pace with me.”
“Why?”
Annani laughed. “Men, mortal and immortal, are all boys at heart no matter how old they are. They have an instinctive need to compete with each other. And it is especially true for the strong-willed leader types.”
“The alpha males,” Syssi said.
“I did not want to use the term because humans, as well as immortals, do not have real alphas. But that is the general idea; the highly competitive leader types.”
Bridget crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Kian. “Smart men should know to resist those primitive urges.”
She still couldn’t believe that Victor had let himself get carried away by Kian’s goading. But then Kian might have given him the impression that it would offend him if Victor refused. Insulting the guy who held his future in his hands was not something Victor could’ve done, and he might have chosen to get drunk to appease Kian.
“Yeah, but sometimes it’s fun to give in to them.” Kian stubbed out the cigarette in a large porcelain ashtray. “Life is about more than duties and responsibilities. There is nothing wrong with having a little friendly competition from time to time. I’m sure Turner will have a good laugh over it when he feels better. I sure as hell will.”
Syssi and Bridget exchanged knowing looks.
“Hopeless.” Syssi shook her head.
“As long as no one gets hurt in what you call friendly competitions, I agree that it’s a good way to let off some steam. But you’re a powerful immortal, Kian. You shouldn’t have goaded Turner into competing with you. You know he is not well. And you shouldn't smoke around him either.”
Kian lifted a brow. “I’m smoking outside.”
That was true, but Bridget wasn’t done being mad at him. “Cigarettes stink. If you want to smoke, you should smoke cigars. They smell much better.”
“I know, but they also take much longer to finish. I don’t have the patience.”
“I can get you small ones,” Syssi offered. “I saw cigars that are the size of cigarettes.”
Kian waved a dismissive hand. “They are not as good as the big ones.”
“I agree,” Annani snickered.
42
Turner
Turner woke up in an unfamiliar bed. Lying on top of the covers, he was still fully dressed, but someone had removed his shoes.
Kian.
The bastard had goaded him into drinking too much. Except, Turner knew his limits and what he’d consumed shouldn’t have made him pass out. What’s more, there was no headache. If he’d drunk excessively, he should’ve been suffering from one hell of a hangover.
Instead, Turner felt better than he had in a long time. Perhaps he’d been sleep deprived, and this short nap had revived him. Lately, worry about the future had been keeping him awake at night, and he’d been having trouble falling asleep and staying asleep.
The fatigue must’ve accumulated, and the alcohol was just the last straw.
Had the nap been short, though? Turner felt as if he’d slept for hours.
Lifting his hand, he looked at the time.
Damn, it was almost morning. He’d missed the entire party. Hopefully, someone had told Bridget where he was. She would be furious at him for getting drunk, and for passing out, and leaving her alone at the party.
He’d better think of a good excuse. Appeasing her was going to be difficult.
Blame Kian. After all, it had been his fault for pushing Turner to drink. Except, she’d be right to point out that he could’ve said no.
After using the bathroom, Turner put on his shoes and tiptoed to the living room, heading for the front door. The sound of low murmurs coming from the backyard made him stop and change directions.
He found Bridget and Kian sitting next to each other on a couple of outdoor armchairs, while Kian’s wife was sprawled on the couch and sleeping.
“Victor.” Bridget rose to her feet and pulled him into her arms. “How are you feeling? Do you have a headache?”
She wasn’t mad?
What a relief!
“No, surprisingly I don’t. I feel great.”
She leaned away and looked into his eyes. “That’s good.”
“Come, sit with us.” Kian pointed to an ottoman.
Turner wasn’t sleepy or tired at all, and he wanted to ask Kian a few questions, but Bridget was probably exhausted.
“I’m sure Bridget wants to go home and sleep.”
“I’m fine. By the way, the party is still going. I don’t know if there is any food left, but I can check.”
Not wanting her to leave, Turner was about to say that he wasn’t hungry, but his stomach chose that exact moment to rumble loudly.
She patted his shoulder. “Go, sit with Kian and give him hell for getting you drunk. I’ll go scavenging for food.”
He caught her hand. “I’ve troubled you enough as it is.”
Bridget smiled. “Don’t worry about it. You’re going to pay me back. From now until further notice, I want cappuccinos in bed every morning.”
“Done.” He would have to learn how to make them.
Rubbing the back of his head, Turner sat in the chair Bridget had vacated. “I don’t understand how I got plastered like that. I didn’t drink that much.”
Kian lifted a cigarette pack from the side table, and then put it back. “I forgot I’m not supposed to smoke around you.”
“You can smoke. I don’t mind.”
“Bridget will have my head.”
“You can be done by the time she returns.”
“Are you sure?”
Turner shrugged. “At this point, it doesn't matter, and besides, secondhand smoking from one cigarette is inconsequential.”
“True.” Kian lifted the pack again and pulled out a coffin nail. “Women are irrational creatures, though, even Bridget, who is one of the most logical ones I know.” He lit the cigarette and took a long drag. “Fuck, I enjoy this too much.”
It must’ve been nice to be an immortal who could do whatever he pleased without worrying about health consequences. Kian could afford to smoke and drink to excess.
“How many drinks did I have? I remember four martinis, but that doesn’t explain why I passed out. That’s not
enough to knock me out.”
“I made them potent. They were mostly pear vodka and just a few drops of juice.”
That didn’t explain it either. Four shots of vodka, even straight up, would have caused him no more than a buzz.
“It must’ve been a combination of things. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
Kian seemed relieved by the explanation. “That must be it.”
The guy probably felt guilty, as he should.
“Still, I’ve drunk when sleep deprived before, and I have never passed out.”
“Maybe it was something in the food? Did you eat the sushi?”
“I did.”
Kian waved a hand. “There you go. That must’ve been the culprit. None of us would get sick if there was something wrong with it, but you’re a human.”
Turner arched a brow. “Wouldn’t your superior sense of smell warn you not to eat it?”
“Normally, yes. But there were so many food smells and people smells that it was confusing.”
A logical explanation, but Kian was lying.
Turner didn’t need Andrew’s special talent to detect it. Kian wasn’t a good liar. His pupils had given him away by dilating.
But what the hell was he lying about?
“I found leftovers in the kitchen.” Bridget walked in with a loaded plate. “People are still dancing out there.”
Was it a hint? Did Bridget want to go dancing? After all, he’d practically stood her up.
“I’ll just grab a few bites, and we’ll go join them. If you’re up to it, that is.”
“Are you?”
“Yeah, I am. I feel like I could dance the night away. That nap I took was surprisingly rejuvenating.”
Bridget laughed. “There isn’t much left of the night, but I’ll gladly dance until the sun comes up.”
From the corner of his eye, Turner saw Kian’s face split into a wide grin as if he’d accomplished a major coup.
What the hell was the guy’s story?
43
Bridget
“One last dance,” Bridget said. “And then we go home.”
