Dark Warrior's Legacy

by I. T. Lucas

  No, he wasn’t.

  He’d been part of an organization that wasn’t doing anyone any good, apart from itself, that is, and he’d had no problem with it. As long as someone else took care of the killing, he’d been content to be part of the Brotherhood. If not for Carol, he wouldn’t have left. He’d despised Sebastian, that’s all.

  The most he would’ve done was request a transfer to another unit.

  “If you say so.”

  “I know so. You saved me, risking your own life. If not for you, I would be as good as dead by now. Catatonic. My mind would’ve snapped.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that and grabbed another piece of bread, then chewed it slowly to buy himself time to think.

  “Come home with me, Robert. I owe you, and I don’t mean the three months I promised. You saved my life by sacrificing yours, and I need to give it back to you. I’ll find you a good job, and you can live with me for as long as you need.”

  Live with her… as if he was a mere roommate, then as soon as he had a job and earned enough to rent a place of his own, he was supposed to vacate the premises and get out of her life.

  He would be all alone in the world.

  If he thought he could go back to the Brotherhood without getting executed on the spot, he would’ve been on his way already.

  Or the moment after he finished his damn meal.

  An angry growl escaped his throat. “Where the hell is our food? Waiter!” He waved the guy over. “We’ve been waiting here for over half an hour.”

  The guy bowed politely, his voice trembling a little. “I’m sure it’s coming out any moment now, sir. I’ll go check.”

  “You do that, and if you’re not back with our orders within the next five minutes, we are out of here.” Robert saw himself fisting the guy’s shirt and lifting him up—just to drive the point home. But he didn’t. His self-control won.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Carol hissed when the waiter scurried in the kitchen’s direction.

  “I’m hungry.” He took another piece of bread and shoved it in his mouth.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and pushed her chin out. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But don’t lie to me.”

  With a grunt, he grabbed another piece of bread and then did some thinking while chewing and swallowing until the last piece in the basket was gone.

  If she wanted him to come with her to Los Angeles so badly, he could use it to his advantage.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you what. I’ll come home with you on two conditions.”

  “I’m listening.”

  He lifted a finger. “One, you marry me.” He watched her eyes peel wide open. “Two, you tell me the name of the Doomer who supposedly crossed over and was accepted by your clan.”

  Carol swallowed visibly, then leaned toward him and whispered, “Why on earth would you want to marry me? We don’t follow human customs, and you don’t love me.”

  “If I marry you, an American citizen, I get a Green Card, and I can work legally at whatever job I’m qualified for.”

  Carol’s expression relaxed, and she slumped in her chair. “I see.” She leaned toward him again. “I can get you papers that are scrutiny-proof. The best money can buy.”

  “I want the real thing.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know that it’s not enough to get a marriage certificate. For at least two years, we actually need to live together, have a joint bank account, and whatever else married people do.”

  Robert smiled. “I know, Don told me.”

  “Shit,” was all she said.

  “You said that you owe me and that you’re going to give me a new life. Were those empty words?”

  “Sir, I apologize for the wait, but here are your orders.” The waiter put the plates down. “Would there be anything else?”

  “No!” Robert motioned for him to get lost, picked up his knife and fork, and attacked his steak.

  The fish on Carol’s plate remained untouched.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “I lost my appetite.”

  Ouch. “Is being married to me so disgusting that you cannot eat?”

  “No, it’s not you, it’s me.”

  Right.

  He arched a brow and cut another big chunk of the steak. She was killing him, but unlike her, he found solace in good food.

  “Don’t give me that hurt look. I mean it, Robert. I like you, you’re a good man, but both you and I know that we are not each other’s destined mates.” She glanced at the neighboring table to check if anyone was listening on their conversation.

  Pushing her plate to the side, she leaned closer to him. “Eventually, I will want to hook up with other men, and I know it’s not going to work while I’m married to you and we are sharing a house.”

  No, it was not going to work.

  As long as they were together, they would remain monogamous. What reason did they have not to? It wasn’t as if she had a lineup of immortal males to choose from, and even though he wasn’t the world’s greatest lover, he was sure as hell better than any puny, weak human.

  Did she need the extra income? Was that it? Didn’t the clan provide for its members? The rumors were that they were filthy rich, but as with everything else, the Brotherhood’s propaganda might have been misleading.

  Spearing another piece of steak with his fork, he leaned toward her. “Is this about money? Do you need to whore yourself out to cover expenses?”

  Carol pushed back as if he’d punched her in the face, and then went redder than the wine in her glass. “Why— why would you say something like that? What made you think that I—” she stuttered.

  He shrugged. “I figured it out as soon as we arrived at the first casino. You were eyeing rich men like juicy steaks, or in your case fat wallets, regardless of the attractiveness of their physiques. I’ve been around enough hookers to recognize that look.” He shoved another piece of steak into his mouth.

  She closed her eyes, breathed in and then out. Looking calmer, she asked, “And you don’t mind?”

  Robert finished chewing and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “As I said, we all do what we need to in order to survive. And if this is what helped you pay your bills, I’m not going to judge. But as long as we are together there will be none of that. I’ll get work and pay for the household expenses. You don’t need to go whoring while I’m around.”

  “I wish you didn’t use that word. It’s demeaning.”

  She was right. He’d done it purposefully. If she hadn’t made him so mad, he would’ve thought of something that sounded better. “What word would you like me to use?”

  “Courtesan. That was what it was called when I still did it to support myself.”

  That was a peculiar way to put it. “What do you mean? So you don’t need to courtesan anymore?”

  She smiled. “You can’t use it as a verb. It was a title. But to answer your question, when I held that title, the clan wasn’t doing as well as it does today, and each of us needed to work. I like sex as well as the next immortal, so why not get paid for it, right?” She ignored his grimace. “In time, however, the title lost its glamor, and I lost the taste for it. I managed to accumulate some wealth and lived off it until the clan’s finances improved. Now I do it only when it’s an emergency, or for fun.”

  “For fun? How can money be fun enough to compensate for having sex with an ugly motherfucker?” Robert gritted through clenched teeth.

  “Not all men who pay for sex are unattractive. Some are busy businessmen who have no time to go looking for it; others prefer the honesty and lack of expectation. After all, paying for it upfront is often cheaper than falling into the clutches of a cunning gold digger. And some just get a kick out of it. For me, I do it because there is a thrill in getting paid. It means that I’m beautiful and desirable enough for guys to spend a small fortune on.”

  Astonishingly, he could understand her motives, but it didn’t mean he could tolerate
her fucking other men while she was with him.

  Carol waited for him to respond, but he took his time. She watched him finish the last of his tiny, grilled potatoes, pour the rest of the wine into their glasses, and lean back in his chair.

  “Here is my deal. If you can guarantee my safety in Los Angeles, we will get married in a human ceremony, which I guess is not valid under your clan’s law. We will live together as husband and wife for a minimum of two years, and during this time you will not fuck anyone else. All the money I earn from whatever job I get will be yours and should be enough to cover the extra income you were making.”

  She arched a brow. “How about you? Are you going to stay true to me as well?”

  He didn’t miss the mocking undertone but chose to ignore it. “Of course. Why would I want inferior human females, when I have an exquisite immortal one? It doesn’t make any sense. And why would you want to screw rotten humans when you have an immortal male who can satisfy you like they never could? I get it that I’m not the best lover in the world, but I’m the best you are going to get. Unless I’m mistaken, and I’m not the only immortal male you can fuck.”

  Carol chuckled, but it wasn’t with mirth. “No, I don’t have any other immortal males to choose from. I find it funny, though, that the most I ever heard you talk was when you were berating me. I don’t think this is going to work. I will not invite into my home and into my life a man who doesn’t treat me with respect. My gratitude is not infinite.”

  Damn it all to hell, he’d blown it.

  There were tears in her big blue eyes, and he had put them there. Robert reached for her hand, and surprisingly she let him clasp it. “I apologize. Can we go somewhere and start this over? I know we can make it work.”

  She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Because I owe you, I’m willing to listen, but I don’t promise anything.”

  Thank you, almighty Mortdh. Not all was lost.

  Chapter 12: Andrew

  Nathalie licked the last crumbs of cake off her lips, but a little smudge on her chin remained out of her tongue’s reach. “It was good. No wonder you had to fight over it.”

  Andrew pulled her into his arms and licked the smudge for her. “Now your face is clean. How about I look for other spots that need a tongue bath.” He waggled his brows.

  Nathalie shook her head. “You’re incorrigible. Let’s get out of here. That little piece of cake just whetted my appetite. I want more chocolaty goodness. Maybe some strawberries too.”

  “Of course. I’m neglecting my obligations. Before I can feast on your delectable body, I need to make sure that you and the baby are properly fed so she can grow big and strong.”

  Nathalie arched a brow. “What makes you think we are having a girl? It’s too early to know.”

  Andrew wrapped his arm around her waist, which was still as small as it was before, and walked her out of the room. “Remember Syssi’s vision? She saw me playing with a beautiful girl who had long, luxurious, dark hair; like her mommy.” He kissed the top of her head.

  “Yeah, but maybe she would be our second or third child? The fact that Syssi didn’t see anyone else in the vision doesn’t mean there wasn’t anyone.”

  “Hmm, I hadn’t considered that.” Andrew had been imagining his daughter for so long that it was impossible for him to think about the baby as anyone other than the girl in Syssi’s vision.

  When they entered the living room, Andrew was expecting to find Syssi and Kian, and perhaps Fernando. But Nathalie’s adoptive father wasn’t there. Instead, Bhathian was sitting on the large overstuffed chair across from Kian, and Bridget was sharing the sofa with Syssi.

  “Here you are,” Syssi said, “We thought you guys went for another nap.”

  Bridget smiled. “I’m glad you are taking naps. The body makes most of its repair work during sleep.”

  “Well, if it’s under doctor’s orders… Any cake left? Nathalie wants more.”

  “It will be ready in fifteen minutes. Okidu put another one in the oven. Would you like a cappuccino? And I can offer you some chocolate chip cookies while you wait for the cake.” Syssi got up and walked over to her cappuccino machine.

  “I would love some; the coffee and the cookies.” Nathalie took Syssi’s spot on the sofa. “Is my father still with William?” she asked Bridget.

  “They are watching a show in the theater.”

  “I can’t believe how wonderful William is with my dad. I need to bake him something special to thank him. In fact, I owe you all at least a year’s supply of my best pastries, for all you’ve done for my dad and me, not to mention for Andrew.”

  Bridget patted her knee. “You don’t need to get us anything.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Kian winked at Nathalie. “I’m all for it; preferably fresh and still warm from the oven.”

  Bridget cast him one of her doctor looks; the one that said “I know things that you don’t”. “Aren’t you supposed to be vegan?”

  “I don’t eat the cheese Danishes.”

  “And what do you think the other pastries are made of?”

  Even before spending time in Nathalie’s kitchen, Andrew had known what went into dough, and a lot of it wasn’t plant based.

  Kian closed his laptop and looked at Bridget. “From your mocking expression, I guess something I’m not supposed to eat.”

  Bridget chuckled. “Tell him, Nathalie.”

  “Butter, lots and lots of butter. And the better quality the butter, the better the pastries.”

  Kian didn’t seem fazed by the newsflash. “In this case, I’m willing to make an exception for your pastries. They are worth the transgression.”

  Nathalie grinned. “I’m flattered.”

  Listing to Nathalie as she kept the chitchat going, Andrew rubbed a hand over his jaw. It didn’t seem as if she was in a rush to make the announcement. They hadn’t discussed who was going to deliver the news, and perhaps she was waiting for him to do it. Or she was planning on doing it herself but was waiting for the right moment. He’d give her a few more minutes. “I’ll get the cookies if you tell me where they are.”

  “The pantry.” Syssi pointed.

  This was Andrew’s first venture into the pantry, which he imagined would be the size of a small walk-in closet. The place was as big as his entire kitchen at home. The good news was that Okidu had it flawlessly organized and everything was clearly labeled. Finding the jar full of cookies was not a problem. In fact, it wasn’t the only one; four more jars contained other kinds of cookies, and each was labeled with a name. He took two, the chocolate chip and the macadamia.

  “Here you go, sweetheart.” He placed the two jars on the coffee table in front of Nathalie.

  Syssi gasped. “Oh, Andrew, you should have brought serving plates. You can’t just drop storage containers on the table.” She got up and rushed to the kitchen.

  Women. Who cared about stuff like that? It wasn’t as if he put a paper bag on the table. Not that there was anything wrong with that.

  “It’s fine,” Andrew and Kian said in unison.

  “Leave the jars, Syssi.” Bhathian added his voice.

  “You guys.” She shook her head but abandoned her quest for fancy serving platters. “I swear, if not for us women, you would’ve still lived in caves.”

  Andrew couldn’t argue with that. Kian and Bhathian seemed to agree, and no one said a thing.

  “How are you feeling?” Bhathian asked. “All good?”

  Damn, he was so sick of people asking him that. “As well as can be expected.”

  Bhathian nodded. “Growing pains, ha?”

  “Yeah, that, and the enhanced senses. Too much input.”

  “You’ll get used to that. In time, you’ll learn to ignore it.” Bhathian clapped his palms on his thighs. “Well, now that you’re out of the woods, it’s time for me to book that flight to Rio. I’m heading out on the first available seat I can find.”

  “Ahem,” Nathalie cleared her throat. “I think you sho
uld wait a little longer.”

  Bhathian’s bushy brows drew tight. “Why?”

  She glanced at Andrew and smiled. “We are expecting.”

  The brows drew even tighter. “Expecting what?”

  Bridget snorted. Syssi slapped a hand over her mouth. Kian looked just as puzzled as Bhathian.

  “We are expecting a baby. You’re going to be a grandpa.”

  Syssi erupted with a, “Yay! I’m so happy!” She pulled Nathalie to her feet, hugging her gently as if she was made from eggshells. “I need to be extra careful with you now.” She patted Nathalie’s flat belly.

  “Congratulations.” Kian pushed to his feet and offered Andrew his hand. They shook and then bro-hugged.

  Through it all, Bhathian didn’t respond. Not moving a muscle, he looked paralyzed.

  Nathalie frowned and walked over to him. Crouching, she took his hand. “What’s the matter? This is good news. Why aren’t you happy?”

  “I’m terrified,” he admitted. “I don’t want to lose you. I just found you, Nathalie. How could you do this to me?”

  Talk about the wrong thing to say. Any other woman would have gotten offended and turned her back on him, but not Nathalie. “Why would you lose me, Bhathian? What nonsense have you gotten into your head?”

  “You’re not immortal. And you can’t transition while pregnant. Women die in childbirth, even in this day and age and with the best type of care.” He turned to Bridget. “Am I wrong? Doctor?”

  She shook her head. “It happens. Not a lot, but it still does. Last I read, one in every five to six thousand births ends with the mother’s death, either during childbirth or shortly after.”

  Damn, that was way more than Andrew would’ve guessed, and it scared the crap out of him. And then there was the realization that Bhathian was right about Nathalie’s transition. He didn’t need Bridget’s education to know that it couldn’t be attempted while she was carrying a child. Now they would have to wait until after the delivery, and God knew what might happen during those nine months and then the birth itself.

  “Nathalie is strong and healthy, Bhathian. You’re panicking for nothing,” Bridget said with complete conviction, which eased the tight vice squeezing Andrew’s heart.