The Matchmaker's Mark

by Black, Regan

  Marching back to her blanket and book only turned her own mood black. Her one day to treat herself to balmy weather in the dead of winter was ruined by that beauty with a bad attitude swimming off shore.

  Her hands slowed in the process of packing up. She'd fought Dare too hard to be driven away by some bitch with fins and a tail.

  Moving her blanket a bit closer to the dunes, she and Guinness got comfortable once more. But she couldn't follow the story. The words skipped and twisted as her thoughts zigged and zagged through her mind.

  Mythical creatures she'd read about and forgotten were obviously populating Charleston. Hateful mermaid, bossy elf bodyguard, pissed off werewolf, and grieving ghosts. Sure they were different than fantasy description, but still they were more real than a normal person would expect – or accept.

  She'd blame her star burst eyes for making her see things, but she knew it was a lame excuse.

  The women of her mother's family loved to tell stories of the 'old world' as they called it. Tales of magic and lands beyond the range of normal vision. Legends of courageous men and women. Fairy tales to anyone with more sense than imagination.

  Her family was steeped in imagination. Well, the female side of her family anyway. In light of recent developments, she shuddered to think what secrets might lurk on her father's side of the family tree.

  Charleston was apparently the vacation destination for creatures of myth. The ghosts liked it so much, they never left. And just as Dare had implied, not everyone was friendly.

  If she believed him, many of these other creatures were here for her – for the Matchmaker. She snuggled deeper into her jacket just as a sparkle and flash of coral hair broke through the waves several yards out.

  Well, too bad for Miss Fin and the rest of them. She was here for work – her real work – and for play. Damned if she'd be sent packing by anyone or anything. She'd enjoy the beach today and tonight she'd review a few of Camille's old letters she'd stored on her computer. Then she'd make a decision and a plan of action that suited her. Not Dare, not the impending arrival of a mysterious book, not a wispy threat of a werewolf. Just her.

  ~*~

  Lily moved through her day in two minds. As a retailer, she prepped the daily order for the hospital and dealt with the drop-in customers. As a woman and an elf, she worried for her brother while she considered how best to rid herself of the werewolf loitering in her back room.

  Glaring at him was useless, except for the marginal emotional satisfaction. Ignoring him was easy enough, but it didn't really fix anything.

  Clearly his pack wasn't big on manners if her attempts to be rude didn't faze him. Unless she just wasn't being rude enough. Maybe she was going about this all wrong. If she engaged him – bad choice of words – if they talked she might learn details to help Cade track him down. Because there was no way Cade would let this insult on their house go unanswered.

  She walked by him again on her way to the cooler for a salmon pink rose sure to please the customer waiting in the store.

  "Never knew an elf so big on nature's destruction."

  Remembering her new intention, she forced herself to smile. "I work with responsible growers and a little magic." As if she had oodles of power she was saving for the right moment. "My flowers give joy longer than most. Plus I encourage recycling."

  "Uh-huh."

  She was grateful for the dark cooler where she could roll her eyes without getting caught. She came back out, salmon sweetheart roses in hand and a bright smile on her face. "All females like pretty things."

  He curled his lip, exposing a fang, but she decided it wasn't a setback. He couldn't possibly be reformed within a few seconds of one conversation.

  "You may be female, but you're no elf."

  As insults went, that one had been overused before she'd started kindergarten. "Then I'm perfectly qualified to educate and assist males in their amorous pursuits."

  There, let him chew on that. Shoulders back, gentle smile in place, she returned to the man waiting at her counter.

  She'd been right about the perfect color and she worked up a corsage and a matching hand-tied bouquet of the sweetheart roses while he waited. Murmuring a charm for health and happiness, she rang up the total and sent another smiling customer back into the world.

  "Wow. You enthrall them to boost your bottom line. I was wrong. You really are an elf."

  She spun around, and seeing him dominate her doorway, her shop, her day, she gave up on gaining information and insight. With a snarl that mirrored his, she snapped. "I don't need to 'enthrall' anyone."

  "Did you charge him full price?"

  "Not that it's your business, but he's a local cop and a fr-"

  "Oh, so he's taking advantage of your soft spot. Your mercenary relatives would call that bad for business."

  Enraged she went toe to toe with him. "Is this a business analysis or a stake out for you?"

  "Just trying to help." His silver eyes swirled like mercury and he smoothed his hands over her shoulders. "Settle down, kitten. You know how to get me out of here."

  She wanted to shrug him off, but there was something in his touch that kept her stationary. "Who's enthralling now?"

  "Me," he confessed, a smile flirting with one corner of his mouth. "But only until you tell me how to find the Matchmaker."

  "Even if I knew I wouldn't sic you on her!" she growled.

  "Impressive." He smirked, raising his marked arm.

  She stared at his mark, horrified that it might begin to glow. "We are not matched." The declaration lost a little power since it came out as a weak whisper.

  "No. Of course not." He released her abruptly. "But as I've said, we're stuck in this together until the Matchmaker shows up."

  Lily mulled over his words and his touch the rest of the afternoon. She didn't attempt further conversation and, thankfully, neither did he.

  He ordered delivery for dinner since he'd cleaned out her fridge at breakfast and lunch. His every action proved he was resigned to stay as long as necessary.

  She wanted him out, but no excuse proved were-worthy and he offered no clue to her brother's fate.

  It was intolerable. Her only comfort was Henry, who'd wandered back in just ahead of the delivery. He hissed in the werewolf's direction at regular intervals, but otherwise ignored their unwelcome guest.

  She wished she could be as aloof, but the man – wolf – was way too overbearing.

  Petting Henry behind the ears and under the collar, she soon had him purring with his happiest, loudest rumble.

  "Can you shut that thing off?"

  She glanced at the werewolf. "Maybe. If you tell me where my brother is."

  "Where's the matchmaker?"

  Lily made the cat purr louder still and stifled a grin when her guest winced. "What's so horrible about a purr?"

  "You'll know when you're a wolf."

  She clapped a hand over the spot on her neck. "You said –"

  "I didn't bite you. Although it'd do you some good." He chuckled deep in his chest and the sound reminded her of the cat's purr. "You're fine. Unless my pack comes for me. Then all bets are off."

  "So you're important to your people."

  He scowled at her and rubbed at his marked arm. "I was once. Now I'm likely useless."

  She didn't want to sympathize, wanted nothing close to a connection with him, but too often she'd felt like the forgotten misfit destined to be alone because neither race would risk an alliance.

  Human men were often interested in her, but she couldn't get involved with them. Even a half elf would grossly outlive a human. And that was assuming a human male wanted to be caught in the perpetual crossfire of her life. As for elves, well, they were of the impression she was too fragile, too human for them.

  The human world was easier to live in simply because normal people were happily ignorant of the undercurrents of magic that surrounded them. They didn't know to scoff at her deficiencies and therefore they made her feel welcome
.

  It couldn't last forever. As her human friends aged, she'd have to move or find the glamour to mask her appearance, but for now, it was home and she was content. If she didn't count the annoying werewolf currently imposing his will on her life.

  "Pretending for a moment I've decided to help you." She ignored the smug spark in his eyes and tapped his marked arm to squelch it. "How did you get this if you don't already know where the Matchmaker is?"

  "Not your business. I found her, but before I could ah, say anything, she marked me and one of her guards drove me away."

  "Like my brother did? You're track record's not so hot."

  "Sure. Let's go with that if it makes you feel better."

  She kicked him, but he just rolled his eyes and laid a hand on her shoulder, paralyzing her. "Don't get any wild ideas, kitten."

  But she already had one thanks to him, and intended to set her plan in motion the moment she could move again.

  It was after closing before the wolf at her kitchen table was relaxed enough to let her putter around the apartment alone.

  Scribbling a fast note on a scrap of paper, she rolled it tight and tucked it into Henry's alternate collar. It was a system her brothers had worked out as they'd each left home. Henry could come and go between human and elf realms, allowing them an easy way to stay in touch.

  If Henry was open to the suggestion of a romp. The cat could be as unpredictable and temperamental as any normal feline.

  Finding Henry, Lily lavished him with love and treats and put on his traveling collar, marveling at the clever magic her brothers applied so Henry understood what to do.

  "It's a simple beacon spell," Cade had told her once. "Laced with appropriate gratitude so the cat knows we appreciate his effort."

  "Yeah. So simple a halfling couldn't do it," she groused as she ruffled Henry's ears. "Go to it, sweetie. Climb the oldest oak and let them know what's happening."

  Henry bumped his head to hers and then turned, tail waving good bye as he bounded down the stairs and out the cat door.

  ~*~

  "What do you mean you saw a mermaid?" Dare demanded, not for the first time. Amy had been on a rant since she'd returned, but Dare had his own foul mood to deal with. He'd received a text from Gilly that left him reeling. And his trip to the flower shop had been worse.

  "Exactly what I said the first time. Bitchy sea creature with a tail rather than legs. And that hair. Oh! Are there no combs under the sea?"

  Dare had always found mermaids rather calm and lovely creatures, but he knew better than to stereotype any species. Case in point: a Matchmaker with more magic than sense in her system and a half-elf florist matched to a...

  He shuddered. Just thinking about the abomination hanging on his woman earlier was enough to have him reaching for his saber. Except she clearly wasn't his woman so it should hardly matter. But he couldn't seem to let it go.

  "What is it?" Amy asked, bringing him back to the moment.

  Dare flexed his hands in a futile effort to calm the beat of battle thrumming in his veins. "Nothing. You aren't the only one who had a rough day."

  Amy opened her mouth, surely ready to vent her spleen once more about how her careful plans were ruined, but he cut her off with a look.

  "The bitch with fins, as you call her, only proves how imperative it is we get you and the book together without further delay.

  "Despite your lineage, you need training for your new position and the book is vital to understanding the matches, reasons, and barters that Camille and her predecessors arranged."

  "But – "

  "When will you accept the truth?" Dare demanded in a terrible voice reminiscent of his commander shouting orders during a thunderstorm.

  Amy's jaw dropped and tears sprang to her eyes as her hound pressed close to her leg.

  "Apologies, Matchmaker." Gods! He'd made her cry. He leashed his runaway temper and tried to calm her. "Please. Amy. Don't cry."

  "I'm not crying." Her lips pressed into a firm line. "No apology required. Whether I like or understand the changes, they've obviously happened. The greater mystery might be why I haven't noticed the many creatures my grandma assured me still lived on the fringes of society."

  "They're damn well coming out of the woodwork lately," Dare groused.

  "Yes," Amy agreed. "Because of me?"

  "Yes." She finally understood. She had more power than she recognized and while he might offer some help or a little guidance his mind was wrestling with his own troubles.

  "Am I in any danger – real, immediate danger – from this ocean-going temper tantrum?"

  "If you enter the ocean, most definitely." A thought occurred to him. "The further you are from a major waterway, the safer you'll be." From mermaids anyway.

  Amy arched a brow at him. "You just want me back where you think the book is."

  "We both think the book is at your office!" he shouted.

  The walls trembled with the darkness of his voice, but Amy looked intrigued rather than scared this time. Even her dog lacked the sense to be afraid. The mythical realms were doomed with this Matchmaker.

  "How'd you do that?"

  He groaned. "I'll show you when you and the book are united."

  She scowled at him. "That's hardly fair." She tried to pout, but he wasn't fooled. "Aunt Camille said to trust the messenger who delivered the book."

  "Your Aunt Camille said a lot of things." None of which he appreciated at the moment. He thought of Lily, the woman who couldn't be his, and wondered if the conflict of wanting the unattainable had caused his illness last night. It was certainly making him sick now. "Right now we should deal with the immediate crisis. Tell me everything about the werewolf you marked yesterday afternoon."

  "We've been over this. I don't know anything about him. Marking him was hardly intentional."

  "Tell me about the match you've foreseen for him."

  It would be torture, but he would listen and maybe logic would restore his composure.

  "What do you mean?"

  Exasperated, Dare swore under his breath. "I need a beer." He stalked to the kitchen and wrenched open the fridge. Thank the gods for Maeve's excellent taste and family money to indulge it. Pulling out a dark long-necked bottle, he popped the top and drank half of it down, grateful for the sweet, smooth taste.

  Behind him Amy sputtered with laughter.

  "What?"

  She covered her mouth, but the giggling continued, squeaking out between her fingers. "Never mind."

  He thumped the bottle onto the counter. "Say it."

  "The studly effect is muted," she choked, "when it's root beer."

  He studied the bottle. That explained his fondness for it and why it did nothing to dull his senses. He and Camille had spent so little time with 'normal' humans he'd forgotten many of the subtleties. "You've had your fun. Now share the vision you had of that were's match."

  Her laughter died and the quiet was unsettling. "I didn't have a vision," she said at last, reaching for her dog.

  But Dare was starting to understand how she hid her nerves behind small moves like that one. "You must have. Camille explained it to me once. You touch a person, if necessary, and open yourself to see their soul mate." Or the more necessary match as was usually the case during his tenure with her, but he kept that to himself.

  "I'm sorry, Dare."

  "Think back," he ordered. She cringed and he gentled his voice. "I know you were scared at the time, but there must have been some awareness. Maybe you didn't recognize what was happening."

  "Yeah. I'm so experienced now." She held up a hand when he would've pushed more. "Let me find some paper."

  Amy busied herself with paper and pencil and, to Dare's increasing impatience, the eraser. When he tried to look over her shoulder, certain Lily's face was coming to life on the page, she sent him such a lethal glare he was surprised his hair wasn't smoking.

  After an eternity that was in reality only thirty minutes of his long life, Amy turn
ed the sketch around for his view.

  "It's rough, but I took enough art classes that it's accurate. As accurate as I can make it anyway."

  Dare ordered his features into a bland expression when he wanted to shout for joy. Not Lily. It was in fact a woman he'd never seen before.

  Which only begged the question of why a matched werewolf was pawing and sniffing around the woman Dare wanted but couldn't have.

  "Happy now?"

  "Actually yes." He kept his focus on the more immediate issue. "This recollection bodes well." The moment she understood the power running untapped in her veins there would be no one to stop her.

  "Why did the accidental marking enrage him so?"

  "I imagine you've put a damper on his sex life." He understood the were communities put an unnatural value on sexuality and sexual prowess. "The book would have specifics, but I don't think the females of his pack will come near him for fear of being his mate."

  Amy snorted. "He didn't look that bad to me. A number of my friends would've found him attractive."

  Was Lily in that number?

  "I'm tired," Amy said suddenly. "Can we start this all over in the morning?"

  "You'll stay here?"

  "Scouts honor." She clucked to Guinness and headed toward her room.

  "Good. I'll cast some wards for your protection and we'll make travel plans in the morning."

  "Fine," she muttered.

  He waited until Amy was safely behind the closed door before giving in to his need to check on Lily. The unattainable halfling had been the focus of his young dreams. After so many years of that ethereal connection, he felt he owed her the courtesy of checking on her, just in case the were's attentions were not her idea of a good time.

  Chapter Seven

  My dearest Amy,

  Some men are simply territorial beasts. The latest client required a security plan so secretive and detailed. Oh, pure ego let me assure you. It's not like I asked him to meet in a mall the day after Christmas! I swear sometimes a man can't make up his mind if he'll be civil or give in to those primal urges and fears.