To Fight A Fate (Southern Sanctuary - Book 11)

by Jane Cousins

  Goddess, no, no. They were supposed to be keeping things light. No commitment. No tomorrow. And no feelings. Damn.

  What the hell was she supposed to do now? Quit? Run away before things got totally out of control? No, Riya wasn’t a quitter or a coward. She could deal with this. She just needed to lock everything down. She chanced a glance Marcus’s way, stomach clenching and places low in her body melting as he grinned with unabashed delight at her brothers’ antics.

  Crap. Hold on… her brothers. Her crazy, over-protective, interfering brothers. Huh, she wouldn’t have to do a single thing. Not that she couldn’t have, if she put her mind to it. She was an independent woman who owned her actions. She could totally stop committing mistake after wonderfully satisfying mistake with Marcus.

  But why should she have to lift a finger when she had her brothers available to bring everything that was going on between her and Marcus to a crashing halt?

  Marcus was a control freak. He hated chaos and uncontrollable variables. And her brothers were nothing but mayhem and madness times ten. They had an uncanny knack for uprooting Riya’s life and meddling where they shouldn’t.

  Riya wouldn’t have to do anything but sit back and watch Marcus reel in horror. He’d put an end to their sexcapade mistakes faster than the speed of light.

  And why was there suddenly a yawning pit in her stomach at that thought? It was just sex. Okay, sex with Marcus, which had been a lot of fun, way hot and very, very satisfying.

  And big deal, so she’d developed a few itty bitty feelings for the man. Liked seeing him smile. Liked making him laugh. Found it funny to listen to Marcus work all the ridiculous amount of information and facts he’d gathered over the years into a conversation.

  Enjoyed watching him squirm when she surprised him, zigging when he thought she was going to zag. Laughing when he thought she’d be angry. Teaching him that knowing everything didn’t mean you were right when you failed to factor people into the equation.

  And then there was her… their, future unborn baby to consider. Except, Riya didn’t know anything of the sort. Just because Fate had led her to Marcus didn’t mean he was the future father of her unborn child. She might have been sent to Atlanta for any number of reasons.

  Why, if she hadn’t pushed Dimity aside the other night at the Montague those Imps would have sent the younger girl crashing into the secret passage. And that faulty chute door might have done some real damage. Alternatively, maybe she was here to help Hadleigh and Vaughn get their love life back on track, those date nights sure seemed to be doing the trick.

  See, Riya didn’t need to factor in her future baby into the equation with Marcus. Future baby daddy was probably still out there somewhere. It wasn’t Marcus. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t daddy material. He was too fixated on work and stream lining his existence in order to find time to work more. So not the right man for her or her future offspring.

  The crowd roared again, surging to their feet. Through the dust and smoke Riya couldn’t see what had set them off. All she could see was Marcus’s denim clad butt. It was the first time she’d seen him in jeans, and damn… just damn. They were faded and fit the man like a glove. His taut ass was only a few inches away from her right this second and she had to fight the bizarre urge to lean over and take a bite out of it. Shit, that was her territorial dragon half rearing its head.

  Crap, why did Marcus have to look so damn edible tonight. Faded jeans, shit kicker boots and thanks to the heat, he’d donned a loose white shirt, rolling up the sleeves and leaving the top four buttons undone. This relaxed, smiling, casual Marcus, it was just another facet of him that she found herself inexplicably drawn to.

  Parched suddenly, Riya finished off her beer and picked up a fresh one. Seriously, this show couldn’t end soon enough for her liking. She needed to introduce the Ten to Marcus immediately. The one thing Riya could count on her brothers for was to scare off any male in a four hundred foot radius that might be the slightest bit interested in her.

  As Marcus sat back down beside her, his arm grazing hers, scalding welcome heat cascaded through Riya’s body. Damn. Come on Ten, she prayed silently, don’t fail me now idiot brothers.

  * * *

  There was a definite advantage to walking into the after party accompanied by three Maat Elite Warriors. For one, they cleared a pathway to the bar like a knife easing its way through warm butter. And then, thanks purely to the sheer breadth of their shoulders, they managed to secure themselves some breathing room in a snug little corner, along with a bar stool for Riya to sit down on.

  The downside? Having to listen to Dash and Flynn rave about the stunt show.

  “That last act was-”

  “Amazing.” Flynn finished Dash’s statement. “The trampolines-”

  “The hoops on fire.” Dash completed.

  “Chasing each other with water guns full of-”

  “…accelerant. Brilliant.”

  Riya took a sip of her sauvignon blanc. Hmm, Oyster Bay, all the way from New Zealand… yummy. At least the arena management wasn’t skimping on the free bar for this party.

  The rooftop of the NYLO hotel was packed. The warm summer evening meant it was the perfect place to quaff some alcohol, admire the lights reflecting off the nearby infinity pool and contemplate the surrounding Dallas skyline. It wasn’t a huge hotel, only 6 storeys, as the Tong brothers preferred quirky and intimate lodgings rather than big and anonymous.

  Tonight had been their fifth and final performance in Dallas, and this party organised by the arena management in thanks was buzzing with pretty people and the social movers and shakers of Dallas.

  Riya eyed the twins, both drinking beer since they had to fly them all back to Atlanta in a few hours. “You know how annoying that is, don’t you? Finishing each others sentences.”

  Dash and Flynn flashed her dimpled grins. “We know.” Sing-songing in unison.

  “Cut that shit out.” Marcus leaned over and cuffed the two of them up the back of the head. “Go. Mix. Mingle.”

  Riya smiled. The three tall gorgeous Warriors were attracting a lot of interest from the female contingent at the party. She was surprised it wasn’t cooler up here, considering all the fluttering eyelash action going on around them.

  “We are under strict instructions to watch your back, Brains.” Dash’s gold edged hazel eyes scoped the party crowd.

  “Yeah, the last thing Drum said to us before we headed out was to make sure that big brain box of yours remained firmly attached to those scrawny shoulders.” Flynn’s green rimmed hazel eyes surveyed those closest to them. Despite the half smile and relaxed stance, Flynn was ready for danger, wherever it might come from.

  “Scrawny?” Marcus drawled, flexing his shoulders and easily managing to elbow both his fellow Warriors in the gut.

  The dimple in Dash’s cheek flashed as he grinned. “Come on, man. You have contract killers on your ass wanting to give you an all access information lobotomy. Until we neutralise the threat, we’re not going anywhere.”

  “Maat, give me strength.” Marcus rolled his eyes.

  “I wouldn’t be calling on Maat, if I were you, buddy. Last I heard she was learning to knit and renewing her infant CPR certificate. Even if you fell off a cliff, unless you took Hadleigh and the baby with you, she wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

  “Sssh, don’t say shit like that.” Dash leaned over, punching Flynn on the arm, rocking him sideways. “You know how she loves to multi-task interfere. Do you want Maat turning up here? Offering advice?”

  All three Warriors quickly scanned the surrounding crowd, their shoulders relaxing as they failed to find their Goddess.

  “She can’t be that bad.” Riya shook her head at their antics. “She’s your Goddess. You’ve sworn oaths of binding loyalty and devotion to her.”

  “You have-”

  “-no idea.” Dash finished Flynn’s sentence.

  “I’m on board with the Flyboys on this one.” Marcus raised his
glass of whiskey and took a slug. “Just imagine having someone pop in an out of your life constantly. Giving you advice, but never really telling you anything. Constantly hinting at trouble, pain, and chaos on the horizon but refusing to give you details because it might impact your free-will somehow. It’s beyond annoying.”

  Riya found herself nodding. “I’ll raise you a Fate-fixing Time Agent for a brother and let’s see who turns out to be the most annoying.”

  “You have a brother who travels through time?” Flynn’s eyes were wide with intrigue.

  “And fixes Fate? That is so cool.” Dash contributed.

  “No, it’s complicated and annoying. Trust me, very annoying.” Riya could tell that the twins had a million questions between them to ask but thankfully at that moment the crowd went silent for just a brief second before erupting into wild applause, the Ten had arrived.

  Marcus watched Riya’s brothers enter the bar. At first glance they looked like an Asian boy band with their graceful stride, lean muscular builds and wild, colourfully streaked hair. But then Marcus looked closer, noting the way they moved, alert, ready... menacing even, if you knew what to look for.

  “Hey… up close they look an awful lot like that street gang from the last Quentin Tarantino film.” Dash commented.

  “Don’t mention that film.” Riya warned under her breath. “The Japanese Government are still trying to sue the Ten for damages, there was a warehouse fire that wasn’t exactly scripted.” Riya stood up on the rung of the barstool so she could get a better view over the heads of the crowd surrounding her brothers. As the Ten surged closer, Riya began pointing them out to the Warriors.

  Blade had a burnt orange stripe down the left side of his shaggy dark mane and hazel eyes with a matching orange ring of colour around the outer iris. Razor had spiky locks, all the tips coloured a deep red. His hazel eyes flickering with tiny red teardrops in their depths. Whip had a shock of pure white hair and matching eyes that only had the faintest rim of hazel on the outer edge of the pupil.

  Slider had a choppy mane of hair that shimmered both black and dark purple. His eyes were similar to Riya’s, hazel intersected with dark purple threads. Grind sported slicked back hair, the two dark green stripes above each ear an exact match for the colour of his eyes. Scald had a wild feathered mane of hair, one side pure black, the other, a sparkling silver colour. His eyes were dual colour, one blue and one a shimmering silver colour that matched the hair on his head.

  Vortex wore his hair military short, black interspersed with glittering gold stripes. His hazel eyes full of shimmering gold sparkles. Crash had a bright crimson slash down the side of his black hair that fell in jagged lengths to just below his chin. His hazel eyes had an inner ring of matching crimson encircling the iris. And lastly came Axel and Acid, the twins, each had a streak of sunshine yellow right down the middle of their black spiky hair. Eyes a matching bright light hazel with a starburst of yellow radiating from the iris.

  “That can’t be the names they were born with.” Marcus mused dryly.

  “Yeah, about that. Remember I said I had a brother who travels through time? According to my father, one morning he went in to check on the eggs and there was a post-it note stuck to ten of them, with those names on them.”

  “Cool.” Flynn and Dash chorused.

  Marcus’s head whipped around. “Eggs?”

  “Half-dragon, remember?” Riya grinned, she did love surprising this man. “My mother says she knew then that they were in deep, deep trouble.”

  “I would have thought twelve eggs would have been her first indicator.” Marcus postulated.

  “You don’t know my mother. It takes a lot to ruffle her. Though obviously the Ten have been trying to find her breaking point since before they even arrived in this world.” Riya tensed as her brothers, like a school of piranha fish scenting fresh blood moved in for the kill. For a brief, fleeting moment, she had to fight the urge to protect Marcus.

  No, she wanted this. It was the mess free, easiest way to quit making the same hot, hot mistake over and over again with Marcus. It wasn’t just fun anymore, it was becoming dangerously close to an addiction.

  Better, safer, for the Ten to do what they did best, and cut the ties for her. Okay, yes, it bordered a little… a lot on the cowardly. But no woman wants to tell a man their non-affair, convenient sex relationship is over and watch him nonchalantly shrug and saunter away like it’s no big deal.

  A sharp, hot pain sliced through her gut. Riya gulped down some more wine, unwilling to even acknowledge the raw sick feeling that had suddenly engulfed her. Marcus and her so did not make sense on any level except a horizontal one. And besides, it was too late now to change her mind, as the Ten descended upon her for kisses and greetings. Somehow mysteriously sensing who their prey was without even trying.

  Marcus found himself faced with a wall of backs, Riya had disappeared amidst her crowd of siblings.

  “Hey.”

  Marcus looked to his left as a hand descended on his shoulder. White hair? Whip. Noting another of Riya’s brothers had sidled up to his right side, crowding him. Green hair made him Grind. Marcus fought his innate instincts which were to knock the two Tong brothers to the ground. Not the kind of first impression he wished to make on Riya’s siblings. “Evening. Whip and Grind, right? I’m Marcus, a colleague of Riya’s.”

  “A colleague?” Whip looked dubious, inhaling sharply, his hazel rimmed white eyes narrowing.

  Shit, Marcus wondered how good a sense of smell dragons, or in this case, half-dragons had? “I also work with your cousin, Hadleigh.”

  “One of Maat’s Elite Warriors.” Grind nodded, his nostrils also flaring, his dark green eyes contemplating Marcus with deadly seriousness. “We see you lot hanging around at the family parties.”

  Marcus wondered how he had failed to take note of these guys, but then he’d probably been focused on his laptop. Grind and Whip exchanged a silent look, Marcus waited for the inevitable question, the Tong brothers clearly suspected there was something going on between him and their sister.

  Whip released his hold on Marcus’s shoulder, clapping him on the back in a friendly manner. “You drink? What am I saying, of course you drink.”

  Grind grinned, leaning over to slam a hand down on the bar. “Dragon’s Breath for the Ten and our friend.”

  All the Tong boys sent up a roar of approval, more of them turning now, encircling Marcus. He supposed Dash and Flynn assumed he would be safe amidst the Tongs, who they basically considered family by extension. Unfortunately, Marcus was only just beginning to suspect that he was in very, very real danger here.

  The tray of shot glasses handed over looked innocent enough. The alcohol clear, the fumes just this side of eye watering. Marcus went to grab one but Axel, one of the twins with the yellow streaked hair, just slapped his hand down.

  “Not yet, man. We haven’t added the final ingredient.”

  Vortex, with his gold striped hair, leaned over the tray and breathed gently over the glasses. Immediately the alcohol burst into vibrant flames, flickering at first gold before turning a deep, deep red.

  “Now we drink.”

  Marcus accepted the flaming offering from Blade, aware that ten sets of eyes were glued to him. Shit, this was war. He had no choice but to rise to the challenge. Lifting the still flaming glass to his lips, Marcus swallowed the fiery liquid down in one gulp. Raising his empty glass to the ceiling and giving his companions a cool, superior smile, while internally he demanded his stomach man up and not return the vile liquid.

  The Tong brothers roared their approval and downed their own shots.

  Marcus barely had time to get over the last drink when a fresh tray miraculously appeared within their midst. Damn. What choice did he have? Technically he had defiled… was continuing to defile their sister. See! This is why he didn’t get involved with complicated women. They were flat out trouble. They came with overprotective brothers. And had expectations.

 
Except… Riya didn’t have expectations. She never talked about the future. Or tried to lock him into plans to go to the farmer’s market. Or furniture shopping. Hell, the woman barely acknowledged him unless they were alone together. And then all bets were off. But that was just sex.

  Which made Riya the perfect woman. She wanted nothing from him but sex. Nothing else, no promises, no commitments, no attachments, nothing past the moment they were in. Fuck, the woman could disappear tomorrow and never look back, not even stop by to tell him she was going.

  And the thought of Riya leaving him, going away… damn, that didn’t sit right with his gut. Though that could possibly be the five Dragon Breath shots he’d just downed in under ten minutes.

  What the hell was he thinking? His system had been working just fine for over a hundred years now. Women were great, sex was even better, but relationships, entanglements, they were a distraction. And Riya, as he caught a brief glimpse of her over the heads of her brothers looking up at Dash and smiling, she had the potential to be one hell of a distraction.

  That was if Marcus let things go any further than the casual, fun sex set-up they had established. Which of course he had no intention of doing. Still, it took a little more effort than it should have to stamp down on the sudden urge to push his way through the Tong brothers and elbow Dash away from Riya.

  Luckily Marcus’s focus was redirected at that moment as another tray of Dragon Breath shots appeared in front of him. Hmm, funny, after about the third one they had stopped burning his mouth and throat. And after the fifth, a nice steady bonfire glow had set up shop in his stomach. It was only natural that he was sweating and had the sudden urge to strip off all his clothes and sink to the bottom of the pool.

  “So…”

  Marcus glanced around as an arm settled across his shoulders. Looking to his left he blinked at the man with the purple and black hair… Snider? No. Slider. The man, like all his brothers, hovered at just over the six-foot mark so Marcus had to look down to meet those purple shot hazel eyes.