Light Beyond the Darkness

by Tami Lund

  “I can’t go back,” he replied. “And it isn’t acceptable that you have no room in your life for me.”

  Was he serious? She stared at him. He certainly looked serious. If he was joking, he was doing a damn fine job of acting deadpan. Too fine a job.

  “I don’t understand,” she finally said.

  “Which part?”

  She flapped her hand. “All of it. What do you mean, it isn’t acceptable? Since when do you have any say in my life?”

  “Since I entered it and decided I want you.”

  She stared again, her jaw falling open. “You want—”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “Clearly it isn’t for your quick wit.”

  She snapped her mouth shut and stabbed her finger at the restaurant entrance. “Get out of my restaurant. You can’t have me. Get out. Now.” She didn’t wait to see if he complied. She turned and stalked back into the kitchen with her head held stiffly, refusing to turn around and look at him again. She didn’t need to, to know he was watching her. Lights above, she could feel the intensity of his stare without having to look.

  Just as soon as the kitchen door swung shut behind her, she leaned against the wall and took great, gasping breaths. Her entire body shook as if she was in shock. Hell, she probably was.

  Someone thrust a glass into her hand. The stench of bourbon assaulted her nose.

  “Drink,” Vivian commanded. Carley obediently drank and then sputtered and gasped when the amber liquid slid down her throat.

  “What did he do to you?” Vivian demanded, clearly having decided she was coherent enough to speak of the incident.

  “Nothing,” Carley said.

  “Well, what happened, then? You’re shaking like a leaf. Something scared the crap out of you. What was it?”

  Carley shook her head, but Vivian was a tenacious human being. Finally, Carley admitted, “I’ve never stood up to a man like that before.”

  Vivian looked at her as if she’d just sprouted an alien head. Carley shook her head again.

  “My father—he wasn’t exactly the most loving parent. And I ended up in a really bad relationship,” she said, conscious of the fact that she’d never spoken of this to anyone, not since the day she left the coterie, five months ago. “I never had the option to say no.” She smiled, just a little. “It sort of felt good.”

  “Hell yeah, it did,” Vivian said fiercely. But then she frowned. “Problem with those types, though, is that they generally see someone like you as a challenge.”

  “What does that mean?” Carley asked in alarm.

  “It means that I doubt this is the last we’ve seen of Mr. Rare Steak.”

  *

  At noon the next day, Reid stood on the front porch of the three-story Victorian home Carley shared with half a dozen humans, all of whom worked at the same restaurant. He never knew humans were so pack-like. Working and living with the same people, day in and day out—he couldn’t imagine it, and he was a pack-like creature.

  The dishwasher answered the door. Short, stocky guy with brown skin and thick, dark hair. His shrewd brown-eyed gaze swept over Reid’s person.

  “Stalking her isn’t going to get her to sleep with you, bro,” he eventually commented, by way of greeting.

  Reid lifted his eyebrows and gazed back at the shorter man. “Are you going to give me advice on what will?”

  The dishwasher snorted. “Hell no. Even if I did know that answer, I sure as hell wouldn’t share it with you. Stay here. I’ll see if she’s willing to give you some face time.” And then he promptly slammed the door in Reid’s face.

  Reid touched the peeling paint on the door. He felt residual magic there, although the wards were fairly old. At least a few weeks, maybe more. At some point, she’d warded the place against detection, and eventually stopped, or at least grew lax. The wards would have to be renewed regularly, as the magic, just like the lightbearer who created it, would weaken with time. He wondered who had frightened her so much that she would actually flinch away when he only meant to touch her gently, encouragingly, as he told her that he wanted to sleep with her.

  Not a past lover, she’d said. Family member, he had guessed. She denied it, but then she’d refused to tell him more. But someone had done something to hurt her. The way she’d flinched away from him—that was a learned behavior. He understood learned behaviors, and he knew well how hard it was to break oneself of a habit forced upon you by someone else.

  She obviously had an unpleasant past. Or at least something terrible in her past that caused her to react to him the way she had. She clearly wanted nothing to do with him. This would be no easy conquest he could bend to his will for a brief period of time, providing short-term mutual satisfaction, before he went on his way and they never spoke again.

  So why was he here? Why was he pursuing her? Why did he feel as though he wanted her even more, despite—or because of—the issues that he really knew nothing about?

  Because I can relate, a small voice whispered in his head.

  Perhaps, he admitted grudgingly. But that didn’t mean it was a good idea.

  The door opened again, revealing a different human, this one a male with ruddy skin and strawberry-blond hair that he kept closely cropped to his head. His eyes were bright blue, and he had a sprinkling of freckles across his nose. He was clearly young, although probably not as young as he looked.

  “What’re you doing here?” the boy demanded.

  “Waiting to speak to Carley.”

  “She’s busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “None of your beeswax.”

  Charming. “The dishwasher was supposed to tell her I’m here.”

  “Roman? He did. And she said to go away.”

  The kid was lying. Reid could tell by the way his gaze darted to the side as he said the words. He started to flush, as well.

  “I cannot abide liars,” Reid said in his low, dangerous voice. The one that intimidated most humans.

  The kid flushed darker and dropped his gaze to stare at the ground. “How come you didn’t like my steak?” he finally blurted.

  “You must be Sean.”

  “Yeah. What of it?” Sean asked defensively.

  “I didn’t eat your steak.”

  “Why not?”

  “Carley didn’t make it.”

  “So? My steaks are good too, you know.”

  “They might very well be, but I’m not trying to sleep with you.”

  The kid’s face darkened until he was almost purple. Reid wondered if he would have to perform CPR.

  “You can’t have her,” Sean finally managed to say on a wheeze.

  “Your protective instincts are noble, but I hope you can understand that I really don’t care about your opinion on the matter.”

  Sean’s mouth opened and closed several times as he appeared to simultaneously try to breathe and speak, and succeeded at doing neither very well. Someone stepped up behind him, and both men lifted their gazes and looked at Carley hovering in the doorway.

  “Sean, come inside,” she ordered, and he gave Reid a nasty glare before following her direction. She held the door partially closed, neither stepping outside nor retreating into the house.

  “Why are you here?” she asked warily.

  “The same reason I was at the restaurant yesterday. Are you going to invite me inside?”

  “No.”

  “Then come outside. It’s cold, but the sun is shining, and I know you need to regenerate.”

  “I’m fine,” she said stiffly.

  “No, you aren’t. You work too hard, and those artificial lights do not regenerate your magic nearly as well as the sun does.”

  “Since when are you an expert on lightbearers?” she asked snottily.

  “The way you regenerate your magic is common knowledge, Carley. Walk with me. There’s a coffee shop a few blocks away. I haven’t been sleeping well these past two nights, and I could use a cup.”

&nb
sp; “I’m not going anywhere alone with you.” The wariness was back in her voice and her stance.

  She didn’t trust him. His initial reaction was that he did not want or need it, but he recognized that if he had any remote possibility of taking her to bed, he would have to earn her trust first.

  “Fine,” he said as he bit back a sigh. “I’ll come inside with you. Spending time with your human bodyguards ought to convince you that I mean no harm, right?”

  Carley’s eyes widened. “They aren’t my bodyguards.”

  “Human shields, then. Whatever you want to call them, you keep them close as a means of keeping other magical beings at bay.”

  Carley gasped at his suggestion. “They aren’t human shields. They are great people, and I would never intentionally put a single one into danger.”

  “Then you certainly expect your enemies to play by the rules, don’t you?”

  Just as he expected, she sputtered nonsense about not having enemies, other than himself, of course.

  “I’m not your enemy.”

  “Yes, you are. Your kind has been our enemy since the dawn of light.”

  “That may be so, but I’m pretty certain the war is ending. Last I heard, the heir to the lightbearer throne has mated to a shifter.”

  The look on her face told him the rumor he’d heard was true.

  “Tanner Lyons has indeed taken the lightbearer heir to mate, then? You do know he is the legitimate heir to his own shifter pack as well, don’t you?”

  “He doesn’t want it,” Carley said with a surprisingly fierce pride. As if she personally knew Tanner and his opinions on the matter. Interesting.

  “I believe they’ve gathered as much. Those who were not dispersed to other packs are trying to re-form some semblance of a pack as we speak. Unfortunately, the former pack master did not do a good job of training them to be leaders, so the process is not going well.”

  “Really?” Carley asked, clearly intrigued despite herself. “The pack master died almost a year ago.”

  “Eight months, actually. So what is your connection to the errant pack master’s son?” he asked, hoping to catch her off guard, so that she might actually give him a tidbit of information. Tanner had left the pack almost eleven years previously, but Reid remembered him as nothing at all like his father. He wondered how Tanner was faring, living amongst the lightbearers.

  Her chin lifted in defiance, telling him she was no easy mark. “There is no connection,” she said haughtily. He wondered at her tone, but knew better than to ask. Instead, he deliberately took a step forward, closing the space between them. As he anticipated, she instinctively took a step back, leaving plenty enough opening for him to push his way into the house’s foyer.

  “Was it a shifter who abused you, Carley?” he asked softly, his gaze intent on her face.

  “Get out,” she whispered, her voice almost a hiss, as she glanced around and no doubt counted how many humans were within shouting range. He could tell by their breathing that each and every one was attempting to eavesdrop on their conversation.

  “Tell me.”

  She ground her teeth, and then finally answered him. “No.” The word was clipped, short, firm. But it was enough.

  Reid deliberately raised his voice. “It’s cold outside. I could have sworn you offered me a warm drink, since you refused to go with me to the coffee shop.”

  “Just made a fresh pot,” someone shouted from somewhere.

  Reid flashed a grin at the frustrated lightbearer. “Excellent,” he said, and he followed his nose in the direction of the kitchen, knowing full well she would follow in his wake.

  *

  Sean was in the kitchen, making himself a ham and cheese sandwich. He scowled at Reid as he entered the room.

  “Get out,” Reid barked, and the younger man scurried away.

  “Don’t bully my friends,” Carley snapped. She watched him open and close cabinets until he found the one filled with mismatched glasses and mugs. He pulled out a chipped coffee mug with the words Cooks Do It Better scrawled across the side in blue print. He filled it with dark liquid and then lifted it to his lips while he propped his hip against the counter.

  “I wasn’t bullying him. I just wanted a few minutes alone with you.”

  “We’re hardly alone here,” she warned him. Don’t try anything magical, buddy. Not unless you want to break magical cardinal rule number one.

  He sipped at the hot coffee. “I’m not going to hurt you, Carley.”

  “You keep saying that. The thing is, I don’t believe you.”

  “What will it take to convince you?”

  Her gaze shifted to the side, and she ran her hand through hair that was still damp from a recent shower. “I don’t know. Not be magical, I guess.”

  “We both know that isn’t an option. So what else will work?”

  “Nothing,” she snapped, as her gaze darted to the nearest door again, checking to ensure no humans were lurking too closely. “You’re a shifter, and I’m a lightbearer. We aren’t meant to be together.”

  “I believe we just clarified that a pack master’s son mated with your king’s daughter. Last time I checked, Tanner was a shifter, and I assume your king’s daughter is a lightbearer.”

  “They’re an exception to the rule.” As were Cecilia and Finn. She’d also heard rumor that Dane Metaldyne was keeping house with that slightly scary female shifter, Lisa. But that did not mean Carley would ever consider it. She had no intention of considering any sort of liaison with anyone, ever again.

  “And I believe we also clarified that whoever hurt you in the past was not a shifter.”

  “No, but he was male.” She felt like a cornered animal. She did not like that he was pressuring her. Although she had pushed back once, and there had not been dire consequences.

  “Look, Reid, I’m not interested, okay? I don’t know what it will take to convince you, but you aren’t my type.”

  “What is your type?”

  “I have no idea,” she admitted before she could stop the words.

  “I’m not that type.”

  “What type?”

  “The one who abused you. I don’t abuse women. I’ve always tended more toward worshipping them. I think, if you give it half a chance, you’ll discover that I am, in fact, exactly your type.”

  “You’re overbearing.”

  “Yes, I am,” he acknowledged with a small nod. He continued to sip coffee, looking as casual as he pleased.

  “And obsessive,” she added, thinking that insult would put him off.

  “True. A trait inherent to my species, I’m afraid.”

  Her mouth dropped open for a moment. She hadn’t expected him to agree with what she meant to be an insult.

  “I’m not leaving, Carley,” he murmured, so low she knew no one else could hear, even if they were listening at the door. “You’ve been hurt, and I recognize that means you need time. I can wait. But I won’t leave.”

  Chapter 3

  He held true to his word. Sort of. He did leave, each evening, but then he was back again the next day. He ate at the restaurant every day, and then he was there at closing, to escort the group of restaurant workers to their shared home. Soon enough, her roommates began inviting him inside for a nightcap, not that Carley ever participated. She could barely make it to her bedroom before passing out. If she had a drink first, she’d no doubt fall asleep wherever she was seated at that moment.

  She suspected he checked on her while she slept, too, which was a little unnerving. She often slept in the nude, but had recently attempted to modify that habit. One night she woke up because she’d sensed something. She could hear her own heart, beating madly, but as she lay there, listening intently, the only sounds were of someone snoring in a bedroom down the hall, and someone else—two someones, actually—doing something other than sleeping in the room next door.

  Still, she scrambled under the covers, and the next night, she’d been sure to tug a nightie over he
r head before collapsing onto the bed. Just in case.

  During the day, he simply…hung out at the house. It was obvious most of her roommates liked him. He had fast become a fixture. There was always a place setting for him at lunch, and Roman and some of the other guys had taken to asking after him, if he wasn’t there by a certain time each day.

  No one disliked him, except perhaps young Sean, who’d had a massive crush on Carley since the day she hired him into her kitchen. But even he grudgingly accepted Reid’s presence, and Carley noticed that he began to dress like the shifter, and she’d caught him practicing Reid’s smooth, casual gait in the upstairs hall.

  One week after their first encounter at the restaurant, Carley stood in the kitchen, making grilled chicken and avocado wraps, while Reid leaned against the counter and kept her company. He was dressed casually in a pair of worn jeans and a thin sweater, and he was a safe enough distance away, yet close enough that his proximity increased her heart rate and caused her to feel slightly warmer than normal. It was the middle of April in Chicago, and she wanted to open the window. And she was certain he knew it.

  “What is that green stuff?” he asked as he watched her progress with the sandwiches.

  “Avocado,” she replied. With an impish grin, she added, “Trust me, you’ll like it.”

  He looked doubtful, but said, “If you make it, I’m sure I will.”

  Her impish grin turned into a silly, ridiculously pleased grin as she placed the finishing touches on a plate and slid it across the counter toward him, before piling the rest of the sandwiches onto a large platter to offer up to the rest of her roommates.

  As he took a generous bite of the sandwich, she asked, “Do you work nights or something?”

  After he swallowed the bite in his mouth, he took a swig from the can of Coke sitting nearby and said, “Why do you ask? This is delicious, by the way. I never thought I’d actually say that about something green.” He took another bite.

  Carley chuckled and said, “Because you’re always here, whenever I’m not at work.” And then she frowned. “Although you eat at the restaurant practically every night too. So when do you have time to work? What do you do? For a living, I mean?”