Shine (Mageri Series: Book 5)

by Dannika Dark

  “You won’t even consider it?” Adam cursed beneath his breath and stared out the window, shaking his head. “She might also resent the hell out of the fact she’s getting old while everyone else stays the same.”

  Novis pushed the bottle of brandy to the side and studied him carefully. “Do you love this woman?”

  “I hardly know this woman,” Adam countered.

  Novis smiled broadly and touched his lip. “I have known men to fall in love in the hour of meeting a woman, so speak truthfully. Do you love her?”

  Adam’s voice lowered. “I care for her.”

  “I will make this bargain with you, Learner, as you have done a noble deed for the Shifter by saving his life. You have also impressed me with your acceptance to work with the Relic, and I want to give you something in return to show my appreciation. Allow this mortal to live in our world. If she still cares for you and continues to live in our world, then when she reaches the age of thirty, I will make her the offer. The caveat is that you must not reveal to her my intention. If you do, I will rescind my offer and she will live out her days as a human. You must love her as a human and she must love you as a Mage. She will soon come to understand the dangers of our world, and there is a chance she will decline my offer. If she accepts, she would become my Learner and be required to live within my home. If animosity exists between you two, it would displease me. I do not wish for you to sway her with the allure of immortality and guilt her with love. If you are uncertain of her feelings toward you, then be prepared she may not love you at all. You might feel differently by the time she is thirty.”

  “I would still want this for her. She’s a remarkable girl, and damn if I’m going to sit aside and watch someone like her die.”

  “If I discover she is aware this offer is coming to her, I will remind you again that I will renege. She is much too young and unseasoned to bring on as a Mage. This much I know, as I myself was far too young. We’ll see where things lie when she is thirty. Remember, she may not accept the life of a Mage. Be careful how freely you wish to give your heart. Don’t start a relationship thinking she’ll become immortal; that may not be the fate that plays out, and you would be left loving a woman who will perish in a short time. I would advise you keep a respectable distance and retain a friendship. Let’s revisit this conversation in six years. Do I have your word you will adhere to my conditions?”

  Adam felt a mix of fear and relief as his shoulders relaxed and he stopped clenching his jaw. It was stupid to think he could love a woman right out of the gate, but damn if he didn’t have strong feelings for her. There was just something about Sadie that felt effortless, like they’d always known each other. Adam wondered if humans could also have kindred spirits. Knox once told him that he’d known he wanted to marry Sunny from the moment they met in the bar. Adam sure as hell didn’t feel he deserved a woman like Sadie, but that’s the kind of thing that gave a man hope.

  Maybe Adam’s feelings would erode with time, or she would find a man who had more to offer—like wealth and children. The one thing he wouldn’t be able to give her was a family.

  But it was a shot. It’s the least he could do for a girl who had saved him without even realizing it—saved him in the best way that you can save someone.

  He stuck out his hand and grinned. “It’s a deal.”

  Novis just stared at his hand, as shaking hands was not a Breed custom.

  “Won’t kill you,” Adam offered. “At least I didn’t ask you to spit on it. The human in me doesn’t feel like a deal is made unless two men shake hands.”

  Novis reached out and took his hand. “Then we have an agreement.”

  “Deal.”

  ***

  “How did I become so fortunate to end up riding with you?” I glared at my reflection in Simon’s aviators.

  He revved the engine to his Maserati as we tore down the freeway, heading to the coast. “Because luck be a lady, and you must have shagged her.”

  Justus was driving ahead of us in his Aston Martin because I’d taken too much time getting ready and he had a thing about punctuality. Leo had offered Adam and his brothers a ride in his spacious SUV. That didn’t leave any room, so I’d agreed to ride with Simon. For the first thirty minutes, he blasted the Beastie Boys on his stereo and flirted with women he passed on the highway.

  I glanced out the back window and watched a motorcycle in the distance get swallowed up by the fog.

  “What are you looking at?” Simon asked, turning down the radio.

  “Christian.”

  I hadn’t seen him since our last conversation, and once again, he’d returned to skulking in the shadows. Only now his presence hardly seemed necessary after my display of power in front of the higher authority. Word had spread and to my surprise, for the better. I felt sympathy for Christian. Below the surface of brash words and indifference was a man. Unfortunately, the blood-sharing between us had confused his feelings toward me. I hoped in time it would fade, but I wasn’t so sure.

  The car slowed and I looked at Simon, who was rubbing lip balm on his mouth while making a right turn.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Fueling up,” he said. “I skipped breakfast this morning and I refuse to stand by the bloody Atlantic Ocean with a growling stomach. We still have a few hours before kickoff.”

  “It’s not the Super Bowl. Sunny isn’t going to punt his ashes into the water. Can you show a little respect?”

  Simon rolled the car up to a greasy spoon and muttered, “Yummy.”

  “You don’t eat this crap. Keep driving,” I said with a laugh.

  “Afraid not, love. I have a few enemies in the city and don’t want to risk running into any of them. Lard and heartburn it is.” He stuffed his glasses in a middle compartment and got out.

  I slammed the car door, my shoes crunching on tiny pebbles sprinkled across the parking lot. “This should be a memorable experience. Good thing you wore a shirt today,” I said, pointing at the sign on the door that denied service to anyone without a shirt or shoes.

  The misty weather had dampened the asphalt and fogged up some of the windows on the diner. We walked toward the door where a red light flickered, advertising they were open for business. I could see my breath, and the air was so humid it felt as if the moisture clung to my face. Most of the cars in the lot were big wheelers and white vans. The fog obscured the highway, but I could hear the cars rushing by as I rubbed my nose and followed behind Simon.

  A bell jingled when we walked inside. The welcoming smell of coffee and bacon from the morning’s breakfast rush made me take a deep breath. Heads turned.

  I watched Simon saunter up to the counter in his suit. He wore slim trousers, a white shirt rolled up to the forearm, and a grey vest. He’d kept the vest unbuttoned for a casual look and I wondered why he always dressed down when he looked so good dressed up. A smart leather belt finished off the ensemble, one I’m sure he used more often in bed than around his waist.

  He looked out of place in a diner where most men were wearing raggedy T-shirts, baseball hats, and baggy jeans. I wore black dress pants, a dark sapphire blouse, and a jacket. I took off my coat and draped it over a red barstool while Simon leaned on the counter and flirted with the middle-aged waitress.

  She was a classic beauty, bright red hair pulled back and held in place with hairpins. Her teal dress seemed to fit right in with the décor and the white apron had a small ketchup stain.

  “Why don’t we grab a booth?” I suggested.

  He dragged an irritated glance my way. “Do you really want to snuggle your arse in one of those ripped-up fart cushions?”

  I rolled my eyes at Simon’s inability to control the volume of his voice. After I took a seat to his right, the waitress placed two laminated menus in front of us.

  “Order when you’re ready. We’re still serving breakfast, but the burgers are on the fire.”

  “No need, love. Fish and chips.”

  “We don’t serve
potato chips.”

  I leaned in. “He means French fries. I’ll have a chicken salad.”

  Simon snatched my menu. “A chicken salad? Watching your weight or something?” He snorted and I lightly punched him in the arm.

  “A chicken salad,” I repeated. “Dressing on the side and if you have any crackers or something, that would be great.”

  “And to drink?”

  “She’ll have a vodka neat and I’ll take a gin and—”

  “Wait a minute, honey,” she interrupted. “We don’t serve alcohol. So if you’re trying to be funny, you can take your funny self into the parking lot and go to another diner.”

  “We’ll have two Cokes,” I said apologetically. “Sorry. We’re on our way to a funeral and he deals with grief using humor.”

  She rolled her eyes dramatically, unimpressed with my perfectly legitimate answer.

  “Simon, this is a human restaurant,” I chided. “Can you tone it down for thirty minutes and act like a human?”

  “So, you want me to spend my meal pining away over the miseries of life, wondering what I’ve accomplished and how none of it matters? Sounds cheery. Perhaps after that, we can talk about what I watched on the telly last night. It was a tough call between a movie about a giant ape and another with an Amazon goddess. The breasts win every time,” he said with a wink.

  “Oh, Jesus. Are you going to be like this the entire trip? If so, I’m going to send Levi to ride with you on the way home.”

  Simon shifted uncomfortably and pulled a sugar packet out of a slot. “I’m proud of you, Silver. Back at the jail. I think you did a real bang-up job.”

  “Thanks. Not sure if I’ll ever be able to do something like that again…”

  “Those blighters had it coming. It’s a shame they were brainwashed by that manky bastard, but the show you put on was spectacular. Justice served on a platter. I would have hated to see what the higher authority might have done on their own. Probably slapped their bottoms and sent them on their merry way.”

  “You really dislike authority. Careful, Simon. Some of your opinions seem in line with Nero’s.”

  “Corruption exists, Silver. Don’t be naïve. Disliking authority is not the same as trying to bring it down with violence and bloodshed. Don’t mix me up with those worthless pinheads.”

  “Maybe men like you are what they need. Why not work for the Mageri?”

  He laughed like a hyena and several people shook their heads and gave us an ugly stare. Most of whom looked like truckers, but especially the guy in the booth to my right who was all but snarling at us.

  “Seriously, love. You should have been a comedian.”

  “Maybe your influence is just what they need to shake things up. Why just do odd jobs for them contractually when you could get your foot in the door and really make waves? And I know how you love to make waves.”

  “Only on a waterbed.”

  I sighed and noticed the rotating display of sweets to my right. They had slices of apple pie and giant cookies. “God, look at that brownie. It’s huge. I don’t even think I could get my mouth around it.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  I elbowed him and a man cleared his throat.

  “Mind keeping it down? Some of us are trying to eat,” a voice boomed from our right.

  The jerk who’d barked the order had a full beard, orange baseball hat, and a belly that told me he’d spent a lot of time in diners like this. Mr. Beer Gut also looked like a man who enjoyed pushing people around. Perhaps Simon looked pushable.

  Little did he know.

  “How ’bout you keep your oversized mouth shut and piss off?” Simon suggested in a jovial tone, pouring a packet of sugar into his mouth. He’d lost a little of his British accent and almost sounded local. Simon manipulated his accent often. When we first met, he’d been trying hard to pass as American, but it had come out mottled. Then he’d found out how sexy women thought an accent was and totally played it up.

  “Oh shit,” I murmured as the man got up from his booth.

  “Say that again, you little pissant?”

  “Simon, no,” I whispered harshly.

  He swiveled slowly on his stool with his left arm still resting on the counter. He’d actually styled his hair nicely today with it slicked back and combed. The only thing he hadn’t bothered changing was the tongue piercing.

  Simon lifted his soft brown eyes up to the burly man who’d put his fists on his sides and scowled.

  “I said keep your trap shut,” Beer Gut growled. “This is a family place and people come here to eat in peace.”

  Simon’s brow arched. “If you want to eat in peace, go home and eat in your kitchen. If you eat in a public establishment, be prepared that others around you might be engaged in conversations, some of which you may not approve. As for a family place,” he said, glancing around, “I don’t see any tots in here, unless you count the thirty you ate for lunch.” He slowly poked his finger in the man’s gut.

  Oh God.

  “Please, sir, we’re on our way to a funeral and this is his coping mechanism.”

  “Silver, I swear to bloody hell if you say that one more time, I’m going to stop off at the nearest leather shop and show you how I’d really like to cope.”

  The man scorched me with his gaze. “Maybe you should find yourself a real man.”

  I bristled at his statement. “I have a real man. Do you have a real woman, or one of those blow-up dolls?”

  Simon howled with laughter and let out an exaggerated snort.

  Beer Gut grabbed a fistful of Simon’s vest and yanked him off the stool. “Get the hell out of here.”

  Simon shoved his hands against the man’s chest and knocked him back a foot or two. “Touch me again and I’ll mop up this floor with your hairy arse.”

  “Why don’t you two get out?” another man shouted from near the restrooms on our right.

  I felt disgusted. Just because we’d laughed a little too hard? Was this the Twilight Zone, or had I forgotten just how intolerant humans could be? I’d been so wrapped up with all the prejudices that existed in the Breed world that I’d somehow forgotten how boorish humans were.

  “We’re going to enjoy our lunch and then we’ll go,” I announced. “Everyone go back to your seat and let’s be calm, rational adults.”

  “Why don’t you suck my dick?” the guy at the table suggested quietly.

  “What did you just say to me?”

  “You’ve done it now, boys,” Simon announced, throwing his hands up in the air.

  I was sliding off my stool to confront the man—although I had no master plan after that—when the guy with the beer gut snatched my left arm. In a quick motion, I knocked it away and did a maneuver that caught his arm in a lock. He bent to the side, groaning and trying to pull away.

  “You shouldn’t put your hands on a woman. It’s impolite, and she might kick your ass for it.”

  When he reached out to grab my neck, I caught his wrist and stomped on his foot with the heel of my shoe. Then I shoved him backward until he fell against the front door, making the bell jingle erratically.

  “Go sit down and quit stirring up trouble in here,” I said. “Nobody here wants to see you throw around all your macho.”

  “What are you, some kind of lesbo?” The man at the table on the right heckled me.

  I glared at Simon. “Well, this is nice and relaxing. Thanks.”

  He shrugged and took a sip of the soda the waitress had set down on the silver counter. “Looks like you’re the one beating up all the humans,” he muttered. “I’m just an innocent bystander enjoying my drink. I can’t wait to tell Justus about this.” His tone was gleeful as he lifted his shoulders.

  “You better not,” I said between clenched teeth. “Can we just eat?”

  “Do you normally let your girlfriend do all the fighting for you?” Beer Gut bellowed, tossing his orange hat in an empty booth. When I saw the hat flying and his unwashed hair, I knew w
e were officially in deep shit.

  The kind that required knee-high boots and a paddle.

  Our heckler on the right stood up, muscles tightening in his thick arms. I noticed them when he took off his flannel shirt and showed off his wifebeater. He was tall enough to be a lumberjack, or at least the height I imagined lumberjacks to be.

  His eyes locked on Simon, who was busy wiping a small stain on his vest jacket.

  “What kind of pussy lets a woman fight for him?”

  Simon leaned toward me privately. “I just love human insults from a man who probably has more lube inside the cab of his truck than in the engine. Bet he stocked up, waiting for the pornapocalypse. Is that the best they can do? Calling me a pussy is supposed to send a shudder to my immortal soul? You should hear what a gravedigger once called me; I still have waking nightmares about that.”

  “Simon,” I said in a melodic voice.

  “Did you hear me, pussy?” Lumberjack continued.

  “’Fraid not,” Simon yelled out, leaning against the counter on his elbows. “Doesn’t seem many pussies heed to your call, does it? I can see why that would be a problem.” Simon’s eyes lowered to the man’s crotch.

  Both of the men looked like they could have been separated at birth with their scowls and scruffy beards.

  “You wanna say that again?” Lumberjack stepped closer.

  “Actually, no,” Simon said. “Let’s talk about your sheep fetish.”

  I did a mental facepalm and pinched him in the side.