by Laura Kaye
She visited each of the other horses and committed to memory their colors and markings and mannerisms. Chrys brought her to Rolly last.
What happened to him? Chrys asked.
Someone shot him a couple weeks ago. You wouldn’t believe some of the things people do to horses. Growing up, my grandfather was involved with rescue organizations. He always said, “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.” So I kept up his work after he died. When I heard about Rolly, I couldn’t resist.
The Appaloosa shook its head and stomped.
You never cease to amaze me. Before she could answer, he spoke again, I have never liked to see something hurting. He pulled her around to the surgical wound on the horse’s lower belly. And there’s no reason this guy has to.
What do you…
The question fell away as Chrys’s presence beside her seemed to change, focus, narrow. A warm wind blew around them, from them. She gasped as, before her eyes, Rolly’s wound started to change, too.
Are you doing that? That’s amazing.
For several long moments, he didn’t answer, but the steady healing—the kind that would’ve happened over the next couple weeks—continued right before her until all that remained was a scar. The horse nickered and trotted off a few paces as if trying out his new healthfulness.
When Chrys’s voice came, it was low and soft. If I can’t heal you, I’ll heal something you love.
Emotion overwhelmed Laney. He’d healed him, healed the thing she’d always loved most in the world. Another Kant quote came to mind: “We can judge the heart of a man by how he treats animals.” And by that measure, Chrys had proven himself in spades. Thank you, she managed. I can’t believe you just did that, but thank you.
As if the gift of her sight wasn’t enough…
If Laney had been in her body, she was sure her heart would’ve grown too large for her chest.
…
Chrysander was on full-out sensory overload.
First, there’d been Laney’s desperate embrace in her bedroom. He’d forced himself not to pull away. She’d needed him, and he’d wanted to be strong enough to be there for her in any way—in every way. When was the last time someone had hugged him? He couldn’t even recall the last time someone’s hands had surrounded or held him. The normal breath-stealing panic had been there, but he’d focused on Laney, on her warmth, on the comfort she seemed to receive from his touch.
Then, she’d dragged her fingers through his hair. Electricity had shot through his nervous system, skittered down his spine, and settled into the sudden steel of his cock. He always blocked a lover’s grasp from his face or his neck or his hair. It was too intimate, too familiar. But ever since he’d curled himself around her on the barn floor and realized what she’d risked to tend to his wounds, Laney Summerlyn had slowly but surely been slipping around defenses he’d built up eons ago.
Now, her absolute wonder at the return of her sight in this form… It slayed him. He hadn’t even thought such a thing might be possible. That he could do this for her, give this to her, and that she trusted him to share this experience with her—it might’ve been the most meaningful thing Chrysander Notos had ever been a part of.
He hadn’t planned on the detour to heal her horse, but hearing her talk about rescuing horses, and thinking of what she’d done for him as he’d laid injured in his sacred animal form, he suddenly had to do something else, just for her. The incredible gratitude that flowed through their intertwined energy? It was the greatest, most unexpected reward.
We should head out to meet my family now, if you’re ready?
Yes. I think I am.
Chrys willed them up, up above the fields, but low enough that Laney could still study all over which they passed. As they chased the westward-moving sun, Chrys swooped down to race along a train, sailed just over the slow-moving waters of the Potomac River, and weaved in and among the buildings of Washington, D.C. As they flew, Laney exclaimed, laughed, gasped. He anticipated each reaction, honored that she shared them so freely. When she asked if he could take her to see this or that more closely, he couldn’t have denied her if he’d wanted to. Which he didn’t. Each and every detour was for Laney’s benefit and pleasure.
Chrys would’ve gone anywhere. He wanted her to see everything. And he wanted to be at her side when she saw it.
And, gods, how the gratitude and the joy and the absolute delight poured off her. He’d never felt more touched—nor derived more comfort and satisfaction from such closeness with another being—as he did while they soared through the darkening summer sky toward his brethren’s home.
After all the pain he’d caused, after all the conflict and discord his very existence had wrought, learning he had the capacity to create something so good and so pure and so righteous threatened to remake him at the most fundamental level.
And it was all because of Laney.
As her energy twirled and twisted with his on the wind, Chrys wasn’t sure he would ever truly feel content without her warmth and courage and strength at his side.
It was a sobering thought, given who he was and the current crisis, not to mention that tolerating one hug was a helluva long way from proving able to provide the kind of emotional and physical support Laney required—no, deserved.
He took a moment to pull himself together, regret filling his gut at what he needed to tell her. We’re almost there.
All right. Isn’t it all so beautiful? I mean, I knew it was. But I just didn’t remember it quite like this.
Chrys pictured her face. Almost too beautiful for words.
He navigated them toward the neighborhood and brought them in along the cozy street of well-kept houses on which Owen and Megan lived. Knowing Laney would need a moment to collect herself when they returned to their bodies, he circled into Owen’s backyard and brought them down under the cover of an old tree with broad, sprawling branches.
You might be disoriented for a few minutes, but I’ll take care of you.
I know you will.
Four simple words. Her trust shot straight to the center of his being, opened his defenses to her a little wider.
And then they were corporeal again.
Laney sucked in a gasping breath. Her fingers dug into his biceps when she swayed. “I think I need to sit down,” she rasped.
He guided her to her knees, so they knelt facing one another. “How are you?”
“I don’t know yet.” She ground the heels of her hands into her eyes, resting her forehead in her palms.
Watching her, Chrys’s gut tightened. Worry clawed through his chest. Had it been too much?
Her shoulders shook. Intense emotion rolled off her and slammed into him. And then she launched herself at him, the movement so sudden and unexpected that Chrys lost his balance and toppled backward. She landed on his chest and crawled up his body. Kisses rained down on his neck and face. Her hands plowed into his hair.
Pinned down. He was pinned down. He grunted, every muscle in his body rigid with anticipation over whether his fight-or-flight response would win out.
And then her words sank into his consciousness.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” A litany of gratitude spilled from her lips and covered him in kisses and caresses that punctuated the outpouring of her affection.
Chrys’s mind froze, waited, debated. Then he groaned, his body demanding things his mind was fighting against. Taking her in his arms, he rolled them in the soft grass. His fingers found her hair. His lips found her lips. His body settled into the cradle of her thighs.
“Chrys,” she rasped around the edge of a kiss, her hands still grasping and tugging at his hair. “Thank you…for everything.”
He mentally body-checked his anxiety, and threw himself into kissing her so deeply, so completely, so thoroughly, that he forgot all the rest of the shit going on in his head. Just forgot the hell out of it.
And, was it just him, or did the sounds of her pleasure increase th
e more aggressive he got?
The question blazed through his blood and had his cock punching at his jeans. So little separated him from her intense heat. And he was so fucking tempted to will the clothing away and slide home.
An awareness of energy slid through his mind. Just as Chrys’s brain came back online, a voice called out from the back porch. “Hey, when you two lovebirds are done out there, we’ll be waiting for you.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Omigod!” Heat flooded her cheeks. What the hell was she thinking, jumping Chrys with his whole family just inside? And they were all gods, too. Like humiliating yourself in front of other humans wasn’t bad enough.
“Go to hell, Z.” Chrys stroked the side of her face. “Ignore him. He’s an asshole.”
“I heard that.”
She choked on a laugh, the good humor in Chrys’s voice easing her discomfort.
“You have any brothers?”
“No,” she managed.
“Lucky,” he groused.
“Chrysander.”
“We’ll come in when we’re good and ready, you dig?” For a long moment, his lips hovered just shy of hers. And then he kissed her. Soft and slow. “You’ve honored me, Laney Summerlyn,” he said in a low voice, just for her. As if his earlier actions hadn’t done enough to warm her heart, his words touched her further. A sudden burst of wind swirled around them. He groaned, his forehead falling atop hers. “I’m sorry. He’s not going to leave us alone.”
Disappointment had no more begun warring with embarrassment when they were suddenly on their feet again. “Holy crap! Give a girl some warning, would ya?”
He kissed her cheek. “I’ll try. It’s kinda second nature to me. Come on.”
“Wait.” His heat and light paused in front of her. “Do I look okay?” She smoothed her hands over her hair.
“By the gods, you could never look just okay. You are a beautiful woman. And they will love you.”
She blew out a breath, nerves tossing her stomach. “Okay. You’ll have to guide me, though. I don’t have my cane, and everything here will be unfamiliar.”
“So, how do I—”
“Just hold your arm straight down and walk normal. I’ll hold on and follow. Let me know if we come to any steps or doors or obstacles I need to step over.” She moved to his side and took hold of his bicep just above the elbow.
“A lot of flat grass and then three steps at the porch.”
“Okay,” she said, walking a half step behind him. Scanning her gaze over their path, Laney attempted to paint a picture of where they were for herself. She pushed away the disappointment that she couldn’t see the way she had moments ago. “Who lives here?”
“My nephew Owen and his wife Megan. And their son, Teddy.”
“Owen’s the snow god?”
“Yeah.”
“And is Megan a god, too? Er, a goddess?”
“Nope.”
“Oh.” So, a god could be with a human? Could have children with a human? Cart before horse much, Laney? “And, uh, who else will be here?”
“Just my brothers, Boreas and Zephyros.”
“Right.”
“Okay. Three steps up. There’s a handrail.”
Laney found the metal rail, forgetting until she attempted the first step about her stitches. She gasped and paused. “Stitches,” she managed.
Next thing she knew, she’d blinked in and out of the elements again, the momentary explosion of color revealing what he’d done.
“Problem solved,” he said.
She couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Z,” Chrys said.
“Chrys. Laney.”
“Hi,” she said, her gaze finding Zeph’s blue aura next to Chrys’s golden one.
“Been here long?” Chrys asked.
“No. Just got here when I harassed you.”
Chrys muttered something in that language she didn’t understand and the wind gusted out of nowhere.
Zephyros laughed. “Come on in. We have business to attend to and we don’t have all night.”
In the distance, thunder rumbled. Laney lifted her gaze to the sky. Great. Just what she needed. A storm when she was someplace she didn’t know.
“You okay?” Chrys whispered as he guided her forward. She nodded, nerves returning. “Okay, the door opens to the right. There’s a small step up…now.”
Laney cleared the doorway. The screen door and inner door closed behind her.
“Small mud room, then kitchen, then living room after that.”
“Thank you,” she squeezed his arm and worked to assemble a picture for herself. The dim room they entered opened into a brighter, larger space. The change in the lighting momentarily stole the rest of her sight. Ahead, Zeph exchanged pleasantries with a woman.
“Where’s Ella?” the female voice asked.
“Be here any minute.”
“Good. Chrys,” the woman’s voice exclaimed. “I’ve missed you being here all the time, eating my food.”
“Well, there’s no time like the present.” He chuckled. For a moment, he seemed to lean away, but not so much that Laney had to drop his arm. “Good to see you. That baby ready to come out and meet his uncle yet?”
Laney scanned her gaze over the woman. Blond hair. Big smile. No glowing aura.
“Bite your tongue, Chrysander Notos. I might be big as a house, but this kid can stay put for another month or two.”
There was a pause just long enough to feel awkward. Thunder cracked in the distance, but closer than before. “Megan, this is Laney Summerlyn. Laney, Megan.”
Laney extended her hand. “Hi, Megan.”
A cool hand slipped into hers. “Welcome, Laney. It’s nice to meet you. Why don’t you all head into the living room. Owen and Boreas are in there.” Something about the tone of her voice changed. She sounded…excited?
“This way,” Chrys said to her.
Zeph’s heavy footsteps went ahead of them, then suddenly stopped. Next to her, Chrys drew a sharp breath.
“Good gods!” Zeph’s footsteps continued into the room. Stopped again. “Boreas?” A weighted pause filled the room. “Welcome back, brother,” Zeph said, his tone different—more serious, almost relief-filled.
“Thank you, Zephyros,” a deep voice said. More formal than the others. His aura was a bright white. Next to him, another god, with a softer white light, stood.
“Dude,” Chrys said, still next to her. “You got a makeover.”
Everyone laughed.
Laney tried to follow the conversation, attempted to visually piece together who was who, but because of the number of glowing auras in the room and her general unfamiliarity, she was uncomfortably ungrounded.
“I’ll be right back,” Chrys said. She forced a smile and nodded. “Da-yum, B. You are totally rocking the twenty-first century.” Laughter and teasing followed.
Someone slipped in next to her. “My father-in-law completely changed his appearance,” Megan whispered. “They’re just seeing it for the first time.”
Laney smiled, genuinely this time, Megan’s kindness easing the awkwardness. “How drastic of a change?”
“From long hair and beard and, uh, outdated clothes, to short hair, shaved face, and new clothes.”
“They sound happy.”
“Yeah.” From Megan’s tone, Laney knew she was smiling. A crying sounded out from somewhere in the house. Upstairs? “Oh, darn. I’m sorry. That’s Teddy. I better go get him.”
The men all offered apologies for the rowdiness of their reunion as Megan crossed the room and made her way up a set of steps on the far side, from the sounds of it. Rain pattered against the windows and, outside, the winds gusted.
A moment later, another god—a woman, by the voice—entered the room, a new round of greetings and exclamations erupting over the surprise Boreas had presented.
Unsure of the layout of the room, Laney was momentarily trapped by her disability. Thunder rolled across the sky like a growl, u
ntil it sounded from right above them. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt this out of place, this out of control. She hugged herself and wondered if it was a mistake to have come.
…
Chrysander turned from the group to find Laney standing where he’d left her. But…she appeared different, like she’d shrunk into herself. He bit out an ancient curse and crossed the room. “I’m sorry, Laney. Come meet everyone.”
“Maybe you should just take me home. I don’t—”
“I would really like you here. With me.” Way to go, Notos. Thoughtless, much? He cupped his hand around her neck, massaged the tense muscles he felt there. The strangely intriguing desire to strip her down and treat her whole body similarly surged through him. The image was immediately appealing and so damn sexy.
“So you can protect me.”
Responses competed for air time, but Chrys dismissed all the rationalizations for the truth. “Because I want you to be here.”
Finally, she nodded.
“Here. Take my arm.” Relief flooded through him when she did. “Everyone,” he said in a raised voice. “I’d like to introduce you to Laney Summerlyn.”
One by one, Chrys said their names. Laney seemed to let her gaze rest on each person, almost like she was studying them. With this many people, would she be able to keep them all straight? If the gods all appeared to have auras to her, maybe that would help.
Chrys frowned, hating the idea that she would feel even a little uncomfortable. “Hold on a second. I have an idea.” He took her hands. “You trust me?”
She gave a small, uncertain laugh. “Sure.” He pulled her into the elements. The room appeared around them, along with its four inhabitants. Make that six—Megan descended the stairs with Ted in her arms.
This might make it a little easier. Sorry I didn’t think of it sooner.
You did this so I could see them.
Yeah. He glanced to the men, all of whom were aware of what he was doing. The approval was palpable in the room.
