by Michele Hauf
“We can try again.” He looked up and held her head between his palms, their foreheads touching. “This one wasn’t meant to be. Maybe. I don’t know. Bea, I hurt, too.”
“I know you do. I’ve been so thoughtless. Sitting about, moping. I can see how hard it’s been on you. You don’t walk with your shoulders thrust back proudly. You shiver in the middle of the night when you’re sleeping.”
“I didn’t know I did that. I admit, I’ve been having some white nights.”
“I know, because I’ve lain beside you watching.” She stroked his hair. “How...how can I make it better?”
“Just hold me?”
She beckoned him onto the couch and they entwined in an embrace that, at first, hurt her heart desperately. She wanted to push him away and hide her face and cry to herself, scream that it was so wrong. And then all she could do was cling, pull him closer and let the pain seep from her pores to mingle with his.
Tucking his head against her shoulder, her strong, proud werewolf husband sobbed in her arms. His body shook against hers and soon she found her tears had stopped and she cooed reassurance to him. Touching him softly on his cheek, kissing him there. Stroking the line of his nose and admiring its straightness. Tears wet his cheeks and she kissed the salty pain. She kissed his mouth and their pain sealed something neither of them could name, but both knew would forge their bond stronger.
And when they clasped hands, the bond mark glowed so brightly that the room, which had darkened with twilight, was brighter for it.
“We will have a child,” she whispered. “When it’s supposed to happen.”
He nodded and pulled her in. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
“No matter what happens,” he said, “I will never stop loving you. You’ve gotten into my heart, Bea.” She wiped the tears from his eyes. “You made a nice little nest in my heart and I’m too much of a softy to kick you out.”
“I like it here in my nest. Cozy. But do you really love me?” Bea’s heart thundered with anticipation. “You’ve...never said it to me.”
“I haven’t? By the gods, Bea, I love you. So much.”
This was the first time anyone had ever said that to her. And it felt so real. Perfect. And it could have only been said by her loving husband. “I love you, too. I loved our baby.”
He bowed his forehead to hers. “I did, too. Philipe,” he whispered.
“Huh?”
“Our child. I wanted to name him Philipe. Is that okay?”
She nodded. “Yes. Philipe. He’s ours, Kir. In our hearts.”
* * *
Bea leaned over her husband’s shoulder, intently watching as he worked the small metal tool across the surface of the leather vest. Each tap of his hammer impressed in the soft leather, forming a design with the curved tool. The rhythmic taps of the wood hammer against the tool composed a song.
She reached down and traced a finger along the curve embedded within the soft, oiled leather and, without even considering whether or not to ask, imbued it with faery dust. “Is that okay?”
“Yes,” he said softly, his attention divided between the work and talking. “I like that. A part of you infused into my clothing. Will you trace it all?”
“Of course.” She moved around and he pulled her onto his lap. With Kir’s direction, she traced the design.
He’d stayed home with her for two days, saying the work would get done without him. He’d mentioned something about having to question a demon in custody, but that she would keep.
“Do you want to head out to the cabin tomorrow?”
“Oh, yes! I’ve desperately wanted to go back there.”
“Me, too. We need the break from the city. You could let your wings out and fly to your heart’s content.”
“Oh, my great goddess, I can’t wait!”
“Thought you’d like that.”
“Let’s finish this before we go,” she said. “I want to see you wearing it.” She drew his hand up and, taking one of his fingers, used it to trace the design and seal the dust she’d placed on his handiwork. “This is my knight’s shining armor.”
* * *
Bea woke to her husband’s kiss. The warm, musky scent of him coaxed her to tug up her knees to her chest and coo a satisfied chirp amid the tangle of sheets and pillows.
“I got a call from Jacques,” he whispered, setting the cell phone aside on the nightstand. “My dad just walked into the compound and confessed involvement in the sale of V. I have to go in.”
“Of course you do,” she murmured, still half-asleep. “Will it be hard for you?”
“Yes.”
She clasped his hand and kissed the bond mark. “I love you.”
He kissed her mouth. “You give me strength, lover. Thanks for that. I haven’t forgotten our plans to head out to the cabin. Pack some things. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Love you.”
Another kiss to her forehead and she felt him slide his hand down her bare stomach. His fingers glanced over her thatch of soft hairs and tickled the tops of her thighs. A moan clued her he was having a time of it getting out of bed. But she wouldn’t keep him from family.
“You had doubts your father was involved,” she said. “You’d better go. He may need you.”
“Right. Later, Short Stick.”
“I’ll be ready.”
She nuzzled under the warmth of the sheet and listened as her husband dressed and, in the bathroom, brushed his teeth. Down in the kitchen he made some toast, and it sounded as if he took it with him, because the front door closed soon after the toaster had popped.
“I love that wolf,” she whispered, and drifted back to sleep.
* * *
Kir was determined not to repeat his father’s betrayal. And the only way to do so was to be there for his father now. To show him that he held family in regard. That it meant something.
That he could not, and never would, be like him.
When Colin should have gone directly to Kir, he’d instead turned himself in to the pack. Fortunately, Jacques had taken him in hand at the compound and had placed him in a semi-secure office before Etienne had gotten word of the surrender. Not in the dungeon behind bars where the principal would have put him.
Kir spoke to Jacques and learned that Colin hadn’t said anything to him other than that he was entirely responsible for the V-hubs and the kidnapping of vampires by pack Royaume. Sophie was blameless.
“You believe him?” Kir asked Jacques.
“He confessed. You don’t believe him? Kir, I know he’s your father, but—”
“But the demoness is wicked and could have him bespelled,” Kir said.
“Bespelled? Can demons do that?”
He had no idea. But it was easier to believe that than to succumb to the truth—that his father had acted of his own accord. “Give me some time to talk to him.”
“That I can do. But Etienne is itching about the collar to place the man in shackles.”
“My father has never wronged Etienne. Tell him to cool his heels.”
Jacques whistled and stepped aside to allow Kir through the doorway to the containment room. Inside was an empty desk and chair and a pullout futon. A gallon jug of water sat on the desk. The only window, placed near the ceiling, was no more than a foot high, but a determined wolf could certainly break the glass and make an escape.
Colin stood when Kir entered. His father looked drawn and tired. And Kir noticed now the brown hair that he always wore clipped close to his head was strewn with gray strands. Had those been there when he’d visited at his father’s home the other day? He looked worn.
“Son.”
Kir sat on the corner of the desk, arms crossed high over his chest. “Jacques says you confessed.”
Colin nodded. “I am the mastermind behind this vicious act you’ve been investigating. Lock me up and release Sophie.”
Kir nodded. Now he knew the reason for Colin’s surrender. He wanted to save his girlfriend. Was t
he demon worth sacrificing his own freedom?
“I don’t believe you,” Kir said. “You’re lying.”
“What the hell is wrong with you, son? You get a confession and you refuse it?”
“Tell me how the V is administered,” Kir said.
“The demons drink it from a restrained vampire’s veins. Or, for a more direct infusion, the recipient is hooked up to the vamp with a tube. Instant high.”
“You’ve done your homework. But I still don’t believe you knew anything about this. You knew nothing that day I was at your home. We caught Sophie at a V-hub. What’s happened since then?”
“What’s happened is that you have kept someone I love locked up for over a week. What for? Why detain her without allowing her to contact me, a friend, anyone?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Busy? So busy that you would leave a helpless woman to rot in a cell—”
Kir growled at his father and fisted a hand, but did not approach him.
“It is unthinkably cruel,” Colin insisted. “Either question her, or release her.”
“I’ve been...” Kir winced.
The past week and a half had been horrible, but last night he and Bea had reconnected. Not completely, but they were beginning to join hands and start down the path to understanding and acceptance. He couldn’t believe he’d not told her he loved her until last night. Thankfully, that had been remedied.
Softly, he said, “Bea miscarried. I’ve been taking care of her.”
Colin bowed his head. “Oh. I’m...so sorry, son. I didn’t know. Is she...doing well?”
“She is grieving. As am I. But that doesn’t excuse my ignoring Sophie. I apologize for that. I’ll make sure matters are taken care of today.”
“But please.” Colin crossed the floor to stand before Kir. He entreated his son with a gesture of hands. “I love Sophie, Kir. I cannot bear to know she will be deported to Daemonia. What will I do without her? Surely you must understand how it is to love someone so much?”
He did. And yet, the eight-year-old in him shook his head and stomped the floor with a foot. It wasn’t going to be so easy to appease his broken heart. “The questioning is merely to affirm what we’ve learned about the V-hubs. We caught Sophie red-handed. Jacques has scheduled her deportation for this evening.”
“No.” Colin gripped Kir’s shoulders and held him firmly. “Please, son. I know she’s guilty. But...send me instead. Please. Allow me to stand in her place.”
“That won’t remove the offending party from this realm. She sacrificed her freedom when she chose to commit a heinous crime, Dad.”
“I’ll talk to her. Make her stop. I’ll take her away. Far from here. I’ll keep an eye on her. I won’t allow this to happen again. She’s addicted, son. I had no idea. And the addiction forced her to sell so she could afford more V. It’s horrible. I know!”
Kir growled in warning, showing his teeth.
Colin shuffled away and his back hit the wall, his head bowing. The old werewolf, whom Kir had once looked up to, admired even, had been reduced to begging. For a demon.
“Demons can never be trusted,” Kir hissed. “That woman took you away from your family. Now I will take her family away from her.”
Colin’s growl preceded his lunge for Kir. He gripped him by the throat but did not press hard, only warningly. “You are out of line, boy.”
Kir hadn’t had to struggle to step out of the old man’s grasp. Yet, though he was stunned beyond belief his father had lunged for him, he couldn’t bring himself to retaliate. The man had never raised a hand to him. Ever.
“You see what she has made you do?” he asked. “Always you chose her over your family.”
“Kir, no. How dare you.”
Drawing back his shoulders and looking down on his father, who now leaned over the desk, Kir said sharply, “You left me and Blyss and Mom. You just...left. For a demon.”
Colin looked up abruptly, his eyes teared. “It wasn’t that way,” he said. “Kir, no. I loved you. I have always loved you. I would do anything... Your mother twisted the truth. You only know her version of the story.”
Now what lies would his father concoct to save the demon? Hadn’t the years of their lacking connection and communication proved how little Kir cared for his lies?
Yet, try as he might, he could not walk away from Colin, not so quickly. He splayed his hands before him. “So what’s your version?”
Colin nodded and sighed. A sigh so heavy Kir felt it enter him and settle in his gut. “I fell out of love with your mother long before I ever left pack Valoir, Kir.”
Kir crossed his arms tightly, drawing up his chin. He didn’t want to hear this. And he did.
“Madeline is a cold, hard woman,” Colin continued. “Difficult to love. But I tried and was successful for a while. I was once passionately in love with her. When you children were little, we made some lovely memories.”
Kir paced behind his father. The clear memories he had of family were the few times they had all gone to the country cabin and spent weeks there romping in wolf shape, chasing rabbits and sleeping in the wilds.
For a moment he thought of Bea, sitting at home, waiting for him. What tormented childhood memories did she have because her father could never love her?
Because of a demon.
He would never betray her love as his father had betrayed his mother.
“I left pack Valoir because I was empty,” Colin said. “And living with Madeline only carved that emptiness deeper. I wasn’t banished, but Etienne made it clear I could never return if I left. I suspect Madeline had a word with him. They had an affair, you know.”
Kir gasped. Etienne and Madeline? He couldn’t believe it. Etienne doted on his wife, Estella. They were in love. Had been for eighty years.
“I lost my love for her after that,” Colin stated plainly. “I had to go.”
“If that is so...if you really had fallen out of love with Mom...” He struggled not to raise his voice. Clasping his fingers into an ineffectual fist, he asked, “What about me and Blyss? Was it so easy to walk away from us? Why didn’t you stay for us?”
“I wanted to. But when I brought it up to your mother, she gave me an ultimatum. Either I remain married to her and stay with my family, or I had to leave and never see the two of you again. Etienne backed her up. It was a cruel threat. I couldn’t bear one moment longer in her presence. Nor could I live under the control of a principal who would cuckold me. So I left.
“And do you know? The moment I set foot outside the compound my soul lifted?”
Kir shook his head. How easy was it for him to make up such lies?
“She had brought me so low, Kir. I don’t ask you to understand or to forgive me. Just know, leaving was the only option for my sanity.”
No, he didn’t understand. And he would never forgive his father for walking away from him when he was so young. Sure, Kir understood that some marriages failed, were never meant to be and could be loveless. He didn’t want to believe that had been his parents’ case. And yet, he himself knew Madeline was a cold woman.
Bea feared her? He exhaled.
Accept his father’s choice? No. But perhaps he could sympathize.
“I always thought it was Sophie who led you away from the pack.”
“I met her months after I’d left. It was quick, I know. And it’s probably why you remember it that way. You do recall I did find ways to see you and Blyss those first few years?”
Kir nodded. Madeline had often taken them to the Jardin de Luxembourg, where he’d rent a toy boat and sail it on the pond before the former royal palace. While Blyss and his mother had been off strolling through the flower gardens and getting lemon ices, he’d sat on the shore beside his father, who had always kept one eye over his shoulder.
“None of this matters anymore,” Kir said. “I hate demons. Sophie will be deported tonight.”
Colin grabbed his wrist and Kir tightened his jaw. “You can hate Sop
hie,” his father said, “but you can’t hate the entire demon race because I fell in love with one of them after your mother annihilated my heart.”
A truer statement had never been spoken. But Kir’s eight-year-old self’s memory wanted him to cling to the hatred for them all. To punish the one responsible for his shattered childhood.
“Please, son,” Colin pleaded. “If Sophie is sent to Daemonia, she will never find her way out again. She will perish there. She’s accustomed to living in the mortal realm. Daemonia is harsh. And her absence would kill me.”
Kir tugged from his father’s grip. “Walking away from your family killed an eight-year-old boy’s sense of safety and trust.” He left the room, slamming the door, and marched down the hallway.
Jacques met him as he turned the corner and matched his strides along the quiet, dark hall that led lower, toward the dungeon, where Sophie was being held.
“You going to question her?”
“I’m going to prepare her for deportation.”
“Tonight?” Jacques confirmed. “I’ve contacted the Reckoner. He can send her to Daemonia.”
Kir heaved out a sigh. “Just give me a minute.” He stopped before the iron-barred gate that closed before the door to the dungeon. “Is she guarded?”
“No. She’s a weepy mess. I always thought demons were tougher. More wild.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, I’m not in any danger from Sophie.”
Jacques put up both palms in placating acceptance. He knew Kir was stubborn and he would not interfere.
Kir opened the gate and the steel hinges creaked closed behind him. Down two stories of twisting stone stairs he spiraled until he landed in the cool darkness. No lights? There was electricity down here. The cell doors operated on a code system. He could see well in the dark, though, and wandered forward, past two empty cells.
The pack rarely used the dungeon, but there were occasions when a pack member needed a little cooling-off time, or perhaps a blood-crazed vampire they’d rescued from the blood games needed to chill before being released.
