Broken (The Voodoo Revival Series Book 3)

by Victoria Flynn

  “Shall we?” he asked with an outstretched hand.

  She tentatively took his proffered palm and was escorted to her seat next to the ledge. She was hesitant at first, but the view worked miracles to calm her nerves. Arlen scooted her chair in like a gentleman before crossing to the table by the door where several courses were prepared and waiting. Scooping up two plates, he turned and strode towards her. Arlen placed a beautiful, green salad in front of her before moving around to take his own seat.

  Angie was used to knit picking the subtleties and layers within a dish. She’d been a chef for years and a connoisseur of food since she was old enough to know what she liked. It was difficult for her to hide how impressed she was once she tasted it. Fresh, crisp greens were countered by the rich ginger dressing. Shredded cabbage, avocado, and parmesan cheese rounded it out and despite its simplicity, it was bursting with flavor.

  “Did you make this?” she asked. If he had made everything himself, it was clear that he had skills that could rival her own.

  He snorted, shaking his head. “Nope, not a chance. This is the work of Commander’s Palace. I do, however, make one mean ham and cheese omelet,” he said with a wink.

  Arlen poured them each a glass of wine before digging into his plate. The pair ate in silence, admiring the food and the ambiance of the city while thunder roared in the distance.

  The entrée consisted of a perfectly seared filet mignon with smoked onions and smashed potatoes. By the time Angie had finished that off, she was very nearly bursting at her seams.

  “Tell me about yourself. I want to know everything there is to know.” The corner of Arlen’s mouth lifted slightly, betraying his amusement.

  It was a question she’d never really been asked before, at least not by a man. Maya was the only person in the world who knew her deepest and darkest secrets, and Angie knew Maya would never betray her confidence.

  “What do you want to know? My favorite color is purple and my favorite food is pizza with the works and extra cheese. I am definitely not a morning person and you’ve already met Maya.”

  He chuckled and the sound was magical, one she’d never grow tired of. “What’s your family like? Where did you grow up?”

  Angie could feel her blood pressure rising as he pressed her for information too close to home. She was on the fence about whether or not she could trust Arlen with her baggage yet.

  “Born and raised in Lafayette, actually. I moved to New Orleans when I decided to go to school.”

  “And your parents? I haven’t heard any mention of them.”

  His question was innocent enough, and for the life of her, Angie couldn’t riddle out the reasons why she decided to open up to him and let him in. Letting people in caused pain. They never lived up to her expectations and always left a permanent mark on her life. People moved on, but she never did. However, he felt different.

  “My dad split when I was two. Domestic life wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, I guess. My mother, well, she’d an entirely different story. Barb does what she wants, when she wants. And aside from the occasional drunken call, she doesn’t remember or care much that I exist.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “Oh, it is. I promise. Husband number five is spending his retirement with my mother, living in the lap of luxury. Don’t get me wrong. Jerry is a great guy, but he’s not the warm and cuddly type.”

  Arlen’s brows furrowed and she could see the sympathy in his eyes. She didn’t want pity, especially not from him.

  “I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through that. It makes for a very lonely life.”

  “Spoken as if you know exactly what I’m talking about. What about you? What’s your story?” she asked.

  Angie could see Arlen shut down. She assumed he wasn’t ready to share that part of himself with her yet. He sat up straighter, coughed, and looked out towards the river.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Sounds like our families might have had more in common than not,” Angie said quietly, almost too low for hearing…almost.

  There was a spark of passion in his eyes and she could tell he was in the moment and throwing caution to the wind, even if it was just to share something small with her.

  “My mother was a great woman, loving and kind. Her downfall was loving my father.”

  She took a sip of her wine, it was sweet and crisp like the night air. Angie was trying to work up enough courage to ask more about him, though there was something about him that made her nervous to ask. He exuded an air of power which made him near unapproachable. She thought it could have something to do with his eyes. They were such an unusual color and had an intensity that couldn’t be rivaled. She was staring again and quickly looked away, embarrassed.

  “I’m so sorry about your mom. The way you speak about her, I can tell she was a wonderful person and I’m sure she’d be so proud of you.”

  He snorted, giving a devilish and regret filled grin. “No, she really wouldn’t. She’d hate me if she were still here and she’d be right to. I’ve done things…bad things and hurt good people.”

  Angie didn’t know what more to say to him, yet she knew prying further into the secrets that surrounded his life wouldn’t end well. Especially when their tentative friendship was on unsteady ground. She ignored the tiny voice whispering for more between them. It clearly was crazy.

  Angie’s own mother was a functioning alcoholic who was too wrapped up in her own life to notice what was going on in Angie’s. She was on her fifth husband in the last fifteen years and with each new man, her number of daily glasses of wine increased.

  While her mother was a beautiful woman, she got bored easily. She’d find a well-to-do man and have a whirlwind romance and then after few years she’d leave with enough money to keep her comfortable until she found the next one. Needless to say, Angie had quit forming attachments to her stepfathers. What was the point? None of them stuck around very long. The current husband had apartments all over the United States and timeshare villas in twelve different countries.

  With so much travelling to do, Barbara had disappeared from Angie’s life a few weeks before the Cancun wedding. Truthfully, her mom had checked out when her dad had left.

  She decided to steer the conversation back to safety.

  “How old are you?”

  He watched her speculatively for a moment before answering, “Ninety-four, by your standards.”

  “My standards?” She could hardly believe him. He didn’t look a day over twenty-six, twenty-eight tops.

  “Time moves differently between the planes. A year in your world might only be a week in another. By this worlds sense of time, I would be nearing one hundred. I was born in 1924, that’s the only frame of reference I have. We don’t celebrate birthdays or keep track after reaching maturity. We age so slowly it’d be pointless.”

  Angie couldn’t imagine having a life as long as his. He didn’t have to worry about his impending death. Angie was all too familiar with how easily she could be snuffed out and the years were short. She’d be nothing more than a blip on his radar in the grand scheme of things.

  Sensing it was the end of their conversation, Angie ate silently and Arlen did the same. There was enough food before her that she’d never be able to eat all of it. However, she was determined to try everything offered. Angie sat back and pushed her plate away, looking out at the breathtaking view. It was a city she’d loved from the very beginning and she knew she’d never leave, not really.

  Arlen got up from the table and stalked back to the door. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he slipped inside.

  She followed him up from the table and turned to look at the city.

  Thunder roared in the distance, though much closer than before. It felt like the storm preparing to rage within her. She hated that she’d been ruined before she could ever meet a man like Arlen. Like the donkey and the carrot, she was chasing something out of her reach. She sighed deeply and turned ba
ck around. Arlen was standing there with a covered dish. Removing the dome lid with a dramatic flourish, he revealed the dessert underneath.

  Strawberry Shortcake.

  When Arlen placed a dish for two down, she realized just how much room she had left. There’s always room for dessert.

  He didn’t dig in right away, but sat back and watched Angie’s every move. Instead of putting her on edge, it gave her a small measure of comfort. He cared about her opinions, her thoughts and likes had weight to them which she’d never experienced before. They were things he didn’t have to say out loud; Arlen showed her with his actions as he looked after her and waited patiently while she struggled to come to grips with everything she’d been through.

  The rich and slightly sweet dish was the perfect end to the evening.

  For the first time in many years, Angie felt the weakening of the walls within her. She’d built a fortress around her soul to protect her from becoming like her mother, but witnessing his sorrow when she’d asked about his family, made her realize that she hadn’t been really living before. She’d been existing.

  What Arlen offered was so much more than simply getting by everyday, it was thriving. He was the spice to her bland life and had the promise of shaking things up even more than they already had. It was exactly what she needed. She just had to have the courage to let him in and see the real her. There was something about the strange man that made her want to let loose around him. She didn’t feel the need to hide from him and that held the potential to be very dangerous.

  Chapter 12

  Arlen

  He didn’t taste much of what he ate, too distracted. Angela was stunning and she looked so carefree.

  She stared out over the river and the corners of her lips lifted in a small smile. It was one of the first times he’d seen her so happy. How had the creator thought to bless him with such a woman?

  He found himself wanting more than he could hope for with Angela. Thoughts of what could be ran rampant through him. Their love, though young, would grow every day. She’d be the one person he could count on no matter what. She’d know his deepest and darkest secrets. He’d be everything she needed. He felt it with every fiber of his being. He wanted it more than anything.

  Every time he thought of their future, he began to feel the tiny seeds of hope sprouting. And each time, they withered with the knowledge of what his future held. Brokk had given him a gift by allowing him time, but he was bound by his duty to the Fae.

  Arlen knew it was something Brokk was taking personally. He’d likely felt betrayed by Arlen’s abrupt departure and lack of explanation. They’d been close as boys and he’d become Arlen’s second when they’d grown into men. Ultimately, he was loyal to the king and that was what had grown the fission of their rift.

  When his time was up, he’d be marched back to Aravelle, the home of his people. If he didn’t cut Angela loose before then, she’d be taken with him and her fate would be much less certain. Being human and a woman, could win her a fate much worse than a prolonged stay in the palace dungeon.

  He was so lost in his thoughts he almost didn’t realize Angela was speaking to him.

  “Hmm?”

  She glanced down as if she were suddenly shy and no longer had the courage to voice what she was thinking. Her hands twisted into the fabric of her skirt while she stayed quiet.

  “You’re different, aren’t you?” she whispered, still not looking up at him.

  He was caught off guard by her unexpected question and hesitated in answering. Normally, he’d not have to hide what he was from those around him. The only humans he tended to interact with were deeply entrenched in the paranormal world and didn’t give a second thought to the fact that he was Fae. It was the unofficial rule to keep the existence of such things away from the humans. They wouldn’t be able to comprehend it.

  Angela had been through so much already, seen so much more than the average person. He couldn’t lie to her and hide what he was. She was special. Something about her had changed with the events of the past few weeks. He wasn’t sure what it was yet, but he knew that honesty would be his best option.

  “Yes, I am,” he said, not explaining further. He didn’t give her anything more than she was ready for or wanted to hear. She’d ask when she was ready.

  “Are you human?” she asked, as if it were the most normal question in the world.

  Her eyes were full of curiosity, not fear. That was a good sign.

  He shook his head. Angela’s mouth formed a tiny O.

  They both remained quiet as the tension between them grew. The fact that he was something other than human was out in the open and Arlen didn’t know what more to say on the matter. He was waiting to gauge her response, afraid that she’d reject him before giving him a real chance.

  He couldn’t control what he was anymore than she could control her species. Truthfully, they weren’t all that different. While humans weren’t magically gifted on their own, they did have something the Fae didn’t.

  They could feel.

  The Fae were a people who had somehow drawn the short stick in the emotions department. They tended to be cold and detached, with the exception of meeting their chosen partner.

  Angela was different, too. More so than other humans. Her captors had done something to her. He’d noticed that she’d periodically have episodes where she was no longer with him. When she came back around, she flinched more and stayed quiet, usually not giving more than two syllable responses.

  Arlen hadn’t had the heart to ask what was going on, but things were changing and it was information he likely needed to know. Hell, she was his and he wanted to know everything about her.

  “What are you if you aren’t human? Are you like those beasts? The ones who attacked Maya and me?”

  He could tell she was afraid he’d say he was. He was obligated to put the woman’s mind at ease.

  “No, I’m not anything like them. I’m Fae.” Arlen could almost see the relief wash over her as her features relaxed slightly.

  “Will you hurt me?” Her tone was quiet again and unsure.

  He felt the pings of disappointment and guilt deep in the pit of his stomach.

  “I promise that I’ll never physically harm a single hair on your head.” He was careful with his words.

  “Physically?” she prodded, catching the subtleties of his statement.

  “I’m afraid I can’t make a promise I’ll never hurt you in another way. It tends to be something I do to those I care about most. I hurt them,” Arlen explained, turning his gaze away from her. It was his shame to carry and he wasn’t prepared to make her witness to it.

  “You sound like you could be dangerous to me.”

  He leaned closer to her, drawn in like a moth to a flame.

  “You have no idea.”

  He breathed in her sweet scent. It held the pungent essence of desire. Like a band pulled beyond its limits, he snapped and threw caution to the wind. Arlen closed the distance between them and crushed his lips against hers.

  She responded immediately, parting her lips as he explored her mouth with his tongue. He pulled her into his lap, needing to be as close to her as possible. His hand snaked up her body, caressing her sides and loving the feel of her. She was perfect.

  There was almost no telling where one of them began and the other ended. Arlen’s member stiffened almost painfully as he ground his groin against Angela. He felt like a damn horny teenager with the way he was practically dry humping her, but he found he didn’t care much. He wanted her and there were too many layers of clothes separating them.

  Angela’s small hands gripped at his shoulders and her fingers twisted in his hair as she pulled at him desperately. Needy sounds escaped her lips in between feverish kisses.

  Things were escalating quickly. Arlen’s hand roamed over her curves and came to a stop just above her perfect ass. As much as he wanted to push forward, he wouldn’t do it against her wishes. He needed to calm down before t
hings got out of hand and something happened that one of them could regret.

  Arlen mustered the entirety of his will power and sipped Angela’s lips one last time before leaning back a couple of inches. He was silently asking permission, his gentlemanly upbringing shining through despite his attempts at covering it up. The haze she had cast over him was slowly receding, allowing a clear thought here and there to slip through.

  He was going against everything he had planned, but how could he stay away from her with her big blue eyes drawing him closer? It could very well put her in just as much danger as she’d been in before. She’d be facing the full force of the Fae, and Brokk, neither were to be taken lightly.

  Angela’s brows knit together at the space that was between them and the abrupt stop. He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb along her cheek tenderly. Her skin was as smooth as silk and reminded him of rich cream.

  “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, unsure of herself.

  Internally, Arlen wanted to kick himself for ever making this woman doubt herself.

  “No, of course not.” He didn’t know what more to say. How could he explain his internal struggle with whether or not to pursue their relationship further? She wouldn’t understand what she could mean to him, not as a human. He was afraid if he explained he’d scare her away for good.

  “Oh, um, okay then-” She started towards the door looking defeated.

  However, she only made it a foot or so before. Arlen’s strong hand rested on her shoulder and she stilled.

  She turned back to him, appearing hopeful and curious. Her lips were parted slightly and puffy from his rough kisses. He was as stiff as a steel rod and he silently prayed she wouldn’t notice. What the hell was going on with him?

  He searched her eyes. In one swift motion, she took him by surprise and closed the distance between them. She seemed ravenous like she couldn’t abide by the space between them. He took it as her granting him permission and responded immediately. Who was he to deny his woman anything? Especially himself?