To Fight A Fate

by Jane Cousins

  Marcus ran fingers through his short hair. “Hit the database, talk to Daniel. As our resident monster specialist he’ll probably have an idea of what kind of creature can enter other people’s dreams, and hopefully know a way to defeat them.”

  “In the meantime if you do sleep, I suggest you have a spotter.”

  Dark blue depths flared with heat. “You volunteering?”

  Riya was suddenly very conscious that she was standing in Marcus’s bedroom, and his very large bed was only a few feet away. Stomach suddenly fluttering with excitement, her heart began to race. Snap out of it, remember, you are fighting Fate here. Not going to happen. Her and Marcus? Never. Ever. Nope. “I suggest you ask one of your fellow Warriors to step up and be your new bunk buddy, after all, with their strength they’ll be able to hit you extra hard and knock you out of dreamland with no trouble.” With that, Riya twirled and made a hasty exit.

  Marcus’s gut clenched, hating the sight of Riya leaving. Damn, he’d been a little surly there… again. Riya had watched over him while he was concussed. Cut his hair. Made him lunch. The woman was a born nurturer. A mother. So not his type at all.

  Except, then Riya had gone on to trick him, drug him and even haul his sorry ass to bed. So he could add stealthy, high handed, and determined to her list of attributes. And, Marcus reached up to rub his jaw, she also had a hell of a healthy right hook. So he added one more descriptive to the list… intriguing.

  * * *

  Riya rapped her knuckles on the door to the multi-media room.

  “What?” Ah, the surly dulcet tones of her cousin could just be heard over the screams of someone dying horribly.

  “It’s Riya. Let me in.”

  There was a pointed twenty second delay before silence fell and the electronic lock clicked. Riya used her shoulder to push open the door. Blinking in the dim light, it took her eyes a moment to adjust. “Well, hello.” Riya dumped the garment bag she’d been carrying across an empty armchair, moving forward to plant a kiss on her cousin’s cheek. Wiping her mouth, Riya straightened and smiled. “You taste like cheese doodles.”

  “Don’t tell Vaughn. He’ll cut off my supply and then he’ll have to die.”

  “My lips are sealed.” Riya perched on the arm of the nearest chair. “Other than the smear of cheese on your cheek, you look good.”

  Hadleigh rubbed absently at her cheek. “I look like a whale waiting for a bunch of do-gooders to come along and roll me back into the ocean.”

  Riya fought the urge to roll her eyes. Hadleigh’s pregnancy bump was not all that large. Certainly it seemed petite when compared to their cousin Gaia’s mountainous belly. “How are you feeling?”

  “The baby is fine.” Hadleigh huffed out sullenly.

  “Not what I asked. How are you feeling?”

  “Fat. Useless. Annoyed.”

  “You add cranky, bitchy, petulant and sulky and we can re-invent the dwarves for the post-feminist age.”

  “Not funny.” Hadleigh threw a cheese doodle at Riya’s head.

  “Oh, and I think you forgot humourless.”

  “What do I have to be happy about? Do you see me? It takes me five minutes just to get out of this chair. I can’t fight. I can’t even train. I’m so sick of being pregnant.” Hadleigh issued a low frustrated growl. “Enough about me. How did it go with the spoilt heiress, did you tame the diva beast?”

  “That’s still an on-going thing. I’ll be hanging around for a while yet.”

  “I bet the guys are worshipping at your feet in gratitude.”

  Riya shifted slightly, suddenly uncomfortably warm as she pictured Marcus kneeling before her, expressing his gratitude… worshipping her. Stupid, fanciful imagination. “Some are more grateful than others.”

  “If Drum is being too dark cloud ominous, just sick Nell on him.”

  “Drum? No, he’s being a sweetheart.”

  “Right, a sweetheart. Having eleven brothers has apparently screwed with your working definition of sweetness. So, who’s giving you grief?”

  Damn Hadleigh, those Warrior instincts she had for trouble brewing were too finely honed.

  “If you must know, Marcus has been a tad surly and resistant to my methods.”

  “Marcus? What’s his problem?” Hadleigh couldn’t imagine Marcus looking up from his computer screen long enough to bother her cousin. Except to assess and catalogue her magic and analyse if he had an immediate use for it.

  Riya did not want to talk about her recent run ins with Charming, and his lack of respect for her or her magic. Let alone the fact that she’d just spent an amazingly restful two-hour period napping in his arms not that long ago. Before she had to punch him awake, that was. All of which was kind of difficult to explain and not why she was here.

  “Oh, I think the bill I gave him for the wardrobe I made for Dimity might have irritated his frugal soul slightly, nothing more.” Riya smiled, remembering the delightfully sour expression on Marcus’s face when he’d seen the amount. Definitely past time she changed the subject. “You know Vaughn would be here in a split second to help you out of that chair.”

  “Vaughn. Vaughn.” Hadleigh hissed her meld mate’s name from between clenched teeth. “That man. I’m in here hiding out trying to save his life. But does he appreciate it? No, of course not. He keeps tapping at the door, leaving me healthy low-fat, low-salt, no sugar, tasteless trays of food. And texting me questions about my heart rate, and asking me when was the last time I pooped.”

  Riya winced. “You can’t condemn him for caring about you.”

  An arc of lightning flashed through the depths of Hadleigh’s clear grey eyes. “It’s too much. All he does is talk about the baby. Loud noises are bad for the baby. Long walks are good for the baby. How I should be listening to classical music all the time because it will make the baby happy.”

  “I’ve heard that one too.” Riya volunteered.

  “Do not be on his side.” Hadleigh levelled a killing glare in Riya’s direction.

  Yikes. “I’m not, I’m on your side. I swear.”

  “And if it’s not music, then we should be reading to the baby. Talking to the baby. I swear, he hasn’t made direct eye contact with me for the past two weeks. Every question is addressed to my navel. I… grrr…” Hadleigh held out a hand, a sharp deadly k-bar knife magically appearing and then disappearing just as quickly.

  “He’s just concerned, that’s all.”

  “Everyone keeps saying that, how concerned Vaughn is… but he’s smothering me. He’s acting…”

  “Scared?” Riya offered.

  Hadleigh’s eyes widened in surprise. “Vaughn, scared? I don’t think so.”

  “Scared. Terrified. Take your pick. I’m guessing he’s feeling incredibly helpless when it comes to you having this baby. It’s a first. And he can’t do anything about the outcome but stand on the side lines and make sure you eat well, poop regularly and that the baby is content and happy.”

  Hadleigh shook her head, tucking a dark red short curl behind one ear. “But it’s Vaughn.” A golden god of a man. With burnished gold eyes, and skin that shimmered with hints of the sun. Seven-foot-three-inches of chiselled muscle and sculpted lines.

  “Who is totally, beyond in love with you and is completely terrified that something might go wrong. That’s why he’s hovering constantly. And probably treating you like fragile china.”

  “Well, he has to stop. It’s pissing me off.” Hadleigh growled again.

  “And how is you hiding away in here, shovelling cheese doodles into your mouth and playing video games all day going to get him to stop?”

  “If I go out there he’ll just rub my belly, force a glass of milk on me and insist I take a nap. Do you know, I can’t even remember the last time he kissed me on the lips. Oh, sure, he’s happy to kiss, croon and sing to Lump, but he and I haven’t had an adult – non baby-centric – conversation in almost a month. How in the hell do I get Vaughn to chill and start treating me like his wife ag
ain and not some fragile baby incubator?”

  Riya grinned. “I can’t believe you sometimes. You are so freaking dense.”

  “Lovely, insult the heavily pregnant woman.”

  “Oh, woe is me. So you haven’t beheaded anything in a few months and you’ve had to cut back on your training. You have a gorgeous, highly over-protective meld mate and a baby on the way. Suck it up and go out there and seduce your man.”

  “Sex?” Hadleigh shook her head. “I wish. Vaughn won’t even let me take the stairs, let alone give me a tumble between the sheets. And who could blame him, have you seen the size of me?”

  Riya suppressed a smile. For all her cousin’s prowess on the battlefield she still had self-esteem issues when it came to her looks. Clear grey eyes, a cascade of fire-lit dark red short curls, wide mouth and major curve appeal. Hadleigh was without doubt beautiful, unfortunately, she appeared to be the only one who didn’t know it.

  “Okay, enough.” Riya hopped up and swept up the garment bag, undoing the zip she pulled out the dress she knew Fate had played a major role in creating. “I’m providing you with the ammunition. It’s up to you to go out there and get your man.”

  Hadleigh stared at the dress. “But what if…”

  “Nope.” Riya held her hand out, palm up. “I don’t want to hear it. Suck it up. Wear the dress. Don’t wear the dress. I’m leaving it up to you. I have enough Divas on my plate to manage at the moment.”

  “I am not being a Diva.” Hadleigh muttered from between clenched teeth.

  Riya started backing out of the room. “Hmm, on the scale of Diva to Warrior? Guess which direction you are currently tipping the scales in, Cheese-breath.”

  “You…” Hadleigh’s eyes narrowed.

  Riya turned and grabbed the door. “Oh, colour me scared. At least I know I have a five-minute head start. Good luck with getting out of that chair.”

  Hadleigh gave up the struggle, collapsing back onto the cushions, staring at the closed door through which her cousin had just bolted. Vaughn, scared?

  Could that really be what was behind all his over-solicitous hovering? And she was supposed to seduce her own husband to reassure him? Hadleigh’s gaze flicked to the dress that Riya had left behind. Dare she?

  Sighing, Hadleigh placed a hand on her belly as Lump moved slightly, elbowing one of her major organs out the way to make more room. Hmmm, just because she was having a baby it didn’t have to define her. Just like she wasn’t purely a Warrior, but a wife, daughter, sister and friend.

  Her gaze slid back to the dress. So really, the only question was, how did one go about seducing one’s own husband? Especially when she was lousy at girlie stuff. Beyond bad.

  Hadleigh couldn’t simper to save her life. And her attempts at flirtation were beyond atrocious and bordering on being against the terms of the Geneva convention when it came to applications of torture.

  Her come hither smile had been known to make lesser men turn pale and run away at depressingly fast speeds. Except… Vaughn never ran. He thought her come hither smile was sexy as hell. And that her sad little attempts at flirting with him were the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Glancing down, Hadleigh frowned at her protruding belly, well, Vaughn had thought those things… before Lump turned her middle section into a Hobbit home.

  Releasing another frustrated sigh, Hadleigh picked up the controller and hit the play button, swinging her sword upwards and gutting her virtual enemy effortlessly. Damn, why couldn’t male - female interactions be that easy. Her gaze flicked to the dress once more. How would she approach this if it was a battle? Tactics. Well, at least she had the ammunition. The dress really was stunning.

  Now all she needed to do was come up with a plan to seduce her man. Grrr, she watched as her avatar sunk to the snow, bleeding and dying. That’s what she got for getting distracted. Hitting the re-start button Hadleigh’s mind began churning. She needed a plan. A plan to seduce Vaughn.

  Damn, he was the one good at seduction. Hmmm… maybe what she needed to do was put herself in his shoes. Hadleigh recalled their early interactions, and the dating rules Vaughn had made up. Okay, why re-invent the wheel?

  All it would take is a little planning. A little subterfuge. A lot of luck. And if things grew very dire, if she failed miserably, she’d put her husband in a headlock and beat the caring out of him.

  Okay, that didn’t sound quite right. But Hadleigh was determined, if nothing else, the two of them would talk this out.

  If Vaughn had fears, she wanted to hear them. Share them. That’s what meld couples were supposed to do. Sweet Lady, somewhere in all this pregnancy hoopla they had forgotten to communicate. Hiding their fears and insecurities from one another. In a bid to protect each other they’d only succeeded driving a wedge in, pushing them further apart.

  It had to be the Warrior training. Sure, you could vent your emotions on the battlefield easily enough. Decapitate. Gut. Destroy. Annihilate. But Hadleigh had never been taught how to express when she was afraid. Glaring at her belly, Hadleigh pondered the very real possibility that this might be potentially the biggest mistake ever. Her, a mother? It was bound to go wrong in so many ways.

  Though it went without saying that Vaughn was going to be an amazing dad.

  Hadleigh released another deep sigh, Vaughn, she missed him. Missed talking to him. Laughing. Holding his hand. Looking into his eyes and seeing banked heat and desire. So what did she value more, wallowing in her own misery and dread, or Vaughn?

  And the answer was incredibly simple, Vaughn. Okay, so the plan was set. She would step outside her comfort zone and seduce her man. She could do this… she would do this. There was no other option. Yes, it was time to woo a Warrior.

  Chapter Eight

  The Battle of the Divas was on. Riya had a front row seat. All that was missing was a soundtrack and some popcorn.

  In one corner, out and proud as a Diva was Dimity Forrest, throwing a mini fit. Shooting blue eyed glares at anyone who got too close. Pouting furiously. Bemoaning loudly her lot in life.

  Horrified that in a few short hours the fact that she was officially a working girl would be captured on film and that by next week, when the episode aired, there was no way Dimity would be able to hide that information from her adoring online Followers. Who, she was positive, would desert her the instant they discovered her working minion status. Though anyone seeing her in the gorgeous Dolce and Gabbana purple maxi dress she was wearing would be forgiven for thinking Dimity was headed to an exclusive party and not starting her first official day at work.

  In the other corner was Belinda Forrest. Filthy rich widow, step-mother, and current co-director of Forrest Media. Only another woman would instantly recognise Belinda’s true colours. The majority of men would only see a gorgeous, waifish woman. Slender, to the point of being too skinny. Which just made her appear that much more fragile.

  Belinda had wide brown limpid eyes, full lips and long straight white-blonde hair that rippled in the warm breeze coming in through the open hangar doors. The flimsy white dress she was wearing added to the picture of genteel frailty that she emoted with every measured breath.

  Yes, any woman worth her salt would only require one look to spot a Diva. It was in the way Belinda stood, tentative and unsure. As if she was in dire need of comfort, protection or reassurance. Yet at the same time those limpid brown eyes tracked every male in the vicinity, assessing and cataloguing them into prey and not prey.

  Belinda coquettishly shied away from all the melded Warriors. Ignoring Drum, Vaughn, Rafe and Nate. But she allowed Dash to fetch her a glass of cold lemonade from the hanger kitchen. She smiled warmly at Flynn as he performed the exterior pre-check of the luxury small plane. But it was Marcus who appeared to interest Belinda the most. Given all the longing looks sent his way from under fluttering lashes

  Riya had to bite down on her inner cheek to keep from laughing out loud when Marcus, head down, focused on the tablet in his hand acknowledged Heath Gammon a
nd Belinda’s presence with only the barest of nods as he strode by with the intention of boarding the plane.

  Huh, take that, when Marcus was working some floozy in a not quite see through white dress didn’t stand a chance of capturing his attention. No matter how practised her waifish ingénue act was.

  Flynn issued a piercing whistle, giving everyone the ten-minute warning, pre-flight checks were completed they were good to go.

  Rafe walked over to Drum and Vaughn to double check that the final pieces of equipment were loaded and locked down in the belly of the plane.

  Flynn disappeared inside the sleek aircraft while Dash went about removing the wheel clamps.

  Heath Gammon, with Belinda on his arm, walked over to Dimity, giving her a few gruff encouraging words, wishing her well on her first assignment.

  Belinda looked bored, that was until her gaze settled rather obviously on Dimity’s ass. Her eyes widening in sudden clear dismay. “Oh, dear.” Her voice was soft and musical, echoing around the large hanger. “The camera adds ten pounds, doesn’t it? Well, just don’t turn your back to the camera, dear.”

  Dimity turned pale and then red. Heath stifled an amused chuckle, patting Belinda’s arm as if she’d said the wittiest thing in the world and not just completely decimated a young woman’s self-esteem. The duo heading off to their waiting limousine.

  Crap, Riya was going to have to deal with some mega fallout thanks to Belinda’s parting shot. Damn, she needed to step up now, before Dimity either splintered into a sobbing wreck or chucked a mega ton temper tantrum.

  Distract. That was her only option. Riya grabbed hold of Dash as he strode past her, heading for the stairs to the plane, whispering her plan quickly into his ear before making her move.

  “Hey.” Dimity’s head whipped around fast. “Give that back.”

  Riya smiled and held up the girl’s top of the line phone that she’d just snatched. “It’s time for your first day of work photo.”

  Dimity’s gaze narrowed, lips flattening into an unimpressed line. “No way. I want my phone back.”