Eostre's Baskets: Stacking the Deck

by Selena Illyria

  He took in the flowering bushes, the spring-green leaves on the trees, the bright sunshine, and the scent of fresh-cut grass and a light hint of flowers. He shoved his hands in his pockets and enjoyed the feel of his muscles working and the calmness of the day. This was a lovely change of pace from hunting down a wet dog in dank forests and damp grasslands in cold temperatures.

  As he took in his surroundings, he let his mind tumble over the problem at hand. He had to reconnect with Carrie, get her to stay somehow. Losing her would be like losing part of himself, half of his soul. Just leaving the house made him feel prickly and antsy to get back to her. The last two months had been hell. Talking to her over the phone had helped but not by much. He had hoped returning home would reestablish their bond. He was wrong. There had been more old wounds between them, most of which he didn’t understand. How could he get her to open up when he couldn’t even do the same? Quagmire indeed.

  Main Street came into view, and he slowed down to read the signs. The florist was the first shop he saw. He entered the store and began to stroll through the aisles, taking in which flowers they had on sale. Not seeing what he wanted, he went to the counter. “Good morning. Do you have any red tulips in stock?”

  He hoped so. Those were her favorite flowers. And maybe they’d give him an opening with her.

  “Of course. How many do you want?” the florist asked.

  “A dozen, please.” He leaned a hip against the counter and took in the store. It was a quaint little shop he’d never been in before. In fact, he’d never explored the town they lived in. He wasn’t around long enough to get to know the locals. At least they hadn’t come at Carrie and him with pitchforks and torches for taking up residence in their little slice of heaven. Hunters were considered bad news since they brought a lot of issues with them. But this paranormal slice of heaven didn’t seem to care, even though they understood what he and Carrie did. So far it had been smooth sailing for them. Carrie would tell him if there were issues; that much he knew. At least he hoped she would tell him if there was trouble. He looked over at the florist to watch what he was doing. Fuck, now I’m doubting her. Anger flared up again at himself and this fraying bond. I’m shit out of luck here.

  “You okay?” the clerk asked as he wrapped up Dean’s flowers and tied them with a wide white ribbon.

  Dean gritted his teeth. No way was he going to talk out his troubles with a stranger. “Fine,” he got out.

  “Hey, hey. Not trying to start anything here. Just making conversation, and you seem a little…tense. Let’s try this again. You’re new here, aren’t you? Haven’t seen you around town.” The florist gave him a wide smile that lit up his eyes.

  Dean took a cleansing breath and tried to let go of some of his anger. “Yep. Lived here for over three years, but I’m mostly out of town. My girlfriend holds down the fort for me.” There, neutral answer. Dean continued to peruse his surroundings. The frustration with Carrie was left off.

  For the first time he detected the light scent of gnome musk on the air. Dean shot a glance at the clerk. The clerk looked like a regular human, but there was just a hint of earth magic that all gnomes carried. Dean turned on his dragon senses and looked at the clerk with new eyes. A faint grass-green glow clung to the young man. Dean would guess the guy was between twenty-one and twenty-five. Huh. I really don’t know my town. Maybe that’s why bad shit hasn’t followed me back home. Too many earth magic wielders. Too many earth magic users in one place created a kind of barrier to keep out any negative energy, which was a good thing. It would do more than keep Carrie safe. Hell, they could probably leave their doors unlocked. Okay, maybe not, but it was a thought. Dean allowed himself to smile. He really did have to check this place out more closely. After he fixed things with Carrie. Maybe a date night once they settled their emotional divide.

  The clerk handed him his tulips. Dean paid. “Thanks. I have to come back here again.”

  The clerk beamed at him. “You’re welcome, and have a wonderful day.”

  “You too.” Dean left the shop in an even better mood but couldn’t forget why he was here in the first place. As he walked down Main Street, he spotted more and more earth magic wielders and a few werewolves. He passed by a bar called the Dirty Dragon’s Eye and smirked. For a moment he thought of going in but didn’t. There was no time for a drink or to see if there were any dragons around the place. Another reason bad shit hadn’t followed him into town. Dragons equaled crispy barbecue. Unless a person had a death wish.

  As he progressed, he spotted a nice Italian restaurant that would be a perfect date place for him and Carrie. A few big-name coffee shops had managed to take root and some popular pizza joints, as well as mom-and-pop stores that he wanted to try. Dragon magic drifted on the air. His own beast strained at its tether to seek out its own kind. Maybe they could explain the mating process to him or at least guide him, but after he spoke to her and found out whatever was bothering her. Talking to his mate came first and then seeking guidance from his kind, if they gave him the time of day, would come second.

  He did have to admit that Carrie had really picked a winner by having them set up shop in Citlali. She had been the one to pick the town they lived in. Excellent taste as usual. He slipped his cell phone from his jacket pocket and hit speed dial. He needed to thank her.

  “Hey,” Carrie answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, yourself. I’m walking around our lovely town, and I have to say you picked a helluva place for us to live. I love it. You and me need to make a date in town sometime.” He bobbed his head at an elderly dragon couple who passed and smiled at him. To see his own kind out and about, not hiding, sent a thrill through him; too many times dragons hid away from the world. His heart flipped. This was obviously a safe haven for them. Something they’d lacked in the past. He wanted to reward Carrie for finding this nugget of paradise.

  “A date?” Skepticism dripped from her tone. He winced. Was he so bad that she couldn’t even believe they could have a date?

  “How ’bout it be a surprise, minx?” he threw out, hoping she’d grab the line.

  She gave him a low, throaty chuckle that made his balls tighten and his cock thicken and lengthen. “Go on.”

  The hesitancy in her voice pulled at his heartstrings. “I pick the place, some little bistro you’ve never been at, and we eat, and you give me a chance.” He prayed that she’d bite.

  She fell silent. Time stopped as he waited for her to say something.

  “I’ll think about it. Are you on your way home?” A wariness remained in her tone, but there was a bit of hope in there too.

  “Yep. Just crossing the street to see what the other side has to offer, and I will head back. I’ll see you soon. Love you, minx.”

  “Okay.” She hung up without saying good-bye.

  Fuck, I’m screwed if she can’t even say she loves me.

  He dashed across the street while there was a break in traffic. The sun was shining high in the sky, and fluffy blue clouds meandered on by. A perfect day to have a picnic even if there was a chill in the air. Maybe later on in the week, after we’ve talked it out, he thought. What he would say, he didn’t know. The distance between them was growing too fast for him to catch up, and he didn’t know how to get her to hear him and his words. He did love her; he just didn’t know how to let her in.

  Frustration rose again. His dragon roared. He didn’t want to cut himself up just to make her happy. That wasn’t who he was. It wasn’t what hunters were capable of. Hunters couldn’t kill what they cared about, what they thought of as human or having a soul. Emotions had consequences; they could get you killed. Only being a stone-cold bastard could allow you to live. How could he love her so much and yet keep her out of his problems, his issues, his hunter life? He didn’t want to lose her. Fire swirled around his body in cutting ribbons that seared him to the bone. He wanted to punch something, kick the shit out of this problem, and beat it until it submitted to him, but he couldn’t. There
was no one to hurt. To distract himself he focused on his surroundings once more.

  On this side of the street there were bookstores, cafes, a few tech places, a car rental, a travel agent, and another bar, this one called the Gnome’s Mushroom. Dean snorted. Gnomes were cheeky bastards, that was for sure. He shook his head at their audacity and saw a bakery up ahead declaring a sale on brownies. Perfect for a peace offering. He went in. All the tables were taken, and the glass counters were almost empty. He strode up to the front. This time a pixie with bright purple-and-blue striped hair greeted him.

  “Good afternoon. Welcome to the Pixie’s Cupcake Kitchen. My name is Bessie. How may I help you?” She gave him a bright smile that lifted his spirits from happy to ridiculously high with hope and faith in mankind.

  “Uh, hi, Bessie. I saw the sign for a sale on brownies.” He glanced at the near-empty display cases. “Um, I want to bring home some of your brownies for my girlfriend. Please tell me you have a few left.” He hoped her magic would calm down. Nope, she seemed to sparkle now, like a human-shaped disco ball. Great. He tried to refocus on Carrie and not breaking out his sunglasses. This was for her. Maybe this would get her to listen to him. Maybe fix part of the problem. He doubted it but needed to do something.

  Bessie beamed at him. “Of course we do, silly! How many do you want and what kind?” She picked up a menu and handed it to him. “All of our brownies are decorated for the holiday. So they’re extra cute and festive.”

  Dean was sure he’d get a sugar high if he continued talking to Bessie, if that was her real name. He doubted pixies gave their children such mundane monikers. He wasn’t going to question it, just get the brownies and go, vowing never to set foot in there again unless promised several blowjobs and a trillion bucks and his own island. He perused the menu. “Just a mixer of your most popular flavors, please, and can you gift wrap the box?”

  His teeth were starting to throb. At least gnomes were more subtle with their magic and attitude. This type of magic was numbing his pain and distance from Carrie.

  “Of course! All of our boxes are gift wrapped to make them that much more extra special.”

  He swore that he saw pink sparks when she blinked and smiled at him. Feeling uneasy, he turned away and took in the clientele. They all seemed happy enough, but not overly so. At least they aren’t spiking their baked goods. He saw more werewolves, some mountain lion shifters, a few more gnomes, and another dragon couple, younger this time.

  “Here you go. That will be ten dollars and twenty cents, please.” Bessie said from behind him.

  He turned, paid, thanked her, and left like the hounds of hell were on his ass. Once he was out in the fresh air, he felt much better, less like he’d inhaled a dozen flavored powdered-sugar sticks. He headed home rather than explore anymore. Besides, he needed to go confront his fears. By the time he arrived home, his legs ached from all the walking he’d done. He entered their home and hung up his jacket and brought the tulips into the kitchen.

  “Hey, beautiful. Got these for you for Easter.” He gave her the flowers. There was no way he was going to risk them wilting overnight, gnome grown or not.

  She glanced at the offering, her emotions inscrutable. “Thank you.” She accepted the floral arrangement and left him without giving him a kiss or an indication that she was melting a bit. He went after her. She was in the kitchen putting the tulips in a vase.

  Let’s try door number two. “Can’t forget this for dessert.” He gave her the box of brownies. “Have you ever been in that pixie’s bakery place?”

  Carrie accepted the box and put it on the counter. “Yes.”

  “It was a bit much. Okay, a lot much.”

  “Well, they are pixies. Dinner is almost ready. Go wash up.” She moved to the stove and started to stir something in a pot.

  The tether on his anger snapped. “Damn it, Carrie—”

  “Unless you can explain why you’re so distant to me while on jobs, why you wall a part of yourself off, don’t finish that sentence.” Embers of anger fell to the ground around her like cast-offs from a sparkler. For the first time since Dean had known her, she’d displayed some of her fairy abilities.

  He opened his mouth to snap back, to hurt her, to say something that would make her go on the defensive. She was tearing him apart and trying to dredge up memories he didn’t want resurfacing. Pain lashed through his heart. Why did she want this sacrifice from him? Why was it so damn important to her? Would it help her gain her powers, or was this proof of his love and devotion? He didn’t want to have this part of him yanked out or some sort of ultimatum to be forced from his soul so she could feel she truly had all of him. He wasn’t some damn performing monkey.

  “Why the fuck is it so important for you to have this? Why do you need it? You going to leave me if I don’t tell you?” He knew the answer. Could feel her trying to separate them, snipping their connections and isolating herself from his mental reach and awareness. “I’m telling you now, Carrie. I don’t do ultimatums. Let me offer up parts of myself freely, not as pawns in some emotional chess match that I don’t know the rules to. That would be the decent thing to do.”

  Rather than listen to her response or the way she was ignoring him, he turned on his heel and stalked upstairs. She could eat this dinner alone since she was so determined to make that his permanent scenario. When she called for dinner, he didn’t go down. He stayed in his room with his laptop. The door was unlocked, but she didn’t come upstairs. Tears burned in his eyes as he felt the cinders of their relationship break off and fall to the ground. She could have her standards all she wanted, but it was a two-way street, and he wasn’t the only one to be offering up parts of his past to be examined under the spotlight she’d tried to erect.

  Chapter Three

  Day Before Easter Day

  Carrie woke up early. She lay in bed, letting the golden light of early morning stream through the windows and over her bed. She hadn’t gone to see Dean last night, hadn’t tried to talk to him. His words rang through her head like a bell. Had she been pushing too hard? Clinging too much? Demanding he turn over something he wasn’t willing to give? The pain in his voice had lanced her heart, breaking it more than his words ever could. Dean got defensive when he felt pushed and contorted by others. He fought back with vitriol and fire. Whenever hunters crashed at their place, she’d been able to observe their behavior. It was an unusual setup they had here—hunters able to come together, have a place of safety and a home base to call their own so long as they followed the rules. Dean owned the building, but he let the hunters crash there rent free. In return, they paid her to act as their go-between if people needed to check their credentials.

  Dean normally kept to himself. In the beginning, she and Dean had been just boss and employee. As their relationship evolved, he’d been the one to seek out her companionship, invite her to eat. They never discussed the job. Not once had he opened up about what he’d seen or had to do. Whenever they had hunters in the house, she would hear cries, screams, and moans of anguish and pain, as well as pacing. Doctors would come in if the hunters had injuries. Dean never shouted or yelled in his sleep. He’d moan or roll around; that was it, no attacks or screams. And if he couldn’t sleep, he’d pace. There were times when he’d shut himself up in his room for days, only coming out to eat. She’d never asked what had happened to him. Didn’t want to intrude.

  Now, though, they were mates; he’d claimed her. Bonds had formed between them hat she’d tried to separate, snip, and tear at to give herself some space to breathe. The scars had only come back, scabbed over, and continued to bind them together. In the silence of the early morning, she searched her soul for the part that had tethered itself to him. A vague, pulsing beat there in the darkness, along with a hot button of anger and pain and indiscernible torment that she’d never searched out before. It had always been there, and in the back of her mind, she’d noticed it but hadn’t wanted to find out what it was, what it meant. She felt he shoul
d explain it. Right now it was a hardened bundle of emotions all tied together.

  She winced at the hurt. Maybe I need to approach this differently? Try a new tack? She didn’t know how to get him to open up without him shutting down and icing her out. Rather than lie in bed all day, she decided some cooking was in order. Making something from scratch always helped her clear her head and calm down. She pushed back the covers, got up, and headed for the shower. Today had to be better.

  She turned on the water and undressed. As she waited for the water to heat up, she thought over the last two days. They had been a mess of emotions and missteps. Frustration filled her. How to talk to him without making him feel like he was backed into a corner—that was the question.

  Steam fogged the mirrors and shower glass. She opened the door, stepped inside the cubicle, and shut the door behind her. As the water poured down on her, she sighed and closed her eyes. She let her mind tumble all the possible ways she could confront Dean: directly, sit him down and tell him about her family, or maybe just avoid it altogether and try to get back to the way it used to be. She ignored the last option. That would only make things worse. Her anger would only grow, as would her resentment of him keeping things from her.

  She had thought leaving would be better for all involved, but how could she walk away from someone she loved, her mate? She wasn’t sure how her parents and other people had done it to her, but she couldn’t do that to Dean. Even if her first instinct was to protect herself from pain. She knew what it was like to be abandoned. The old wound split open and began to throb all over again. After years of trying to ignore what had happened to her, she couldn’t. Not when it was screwing up her present.