by May Dawson
"You didn't have to change," I said. "But things did change. Didn't they?"
He wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on top of my head. "Yeah. Things definitely changed."
"I want you to talk about your feelings with me," I said firmly. "And with a licensed therapist."
"Never going to happen," he said. "On the therapist, that is. I don't think there are any prepared for my story. But I'll try with you.”
He sounded doubtful.
I looked up into his hypnotic golden eyes. "I'm a very good listener."
"That's not the problem." But he said it lightly, and then kissed the top of my head.
There was throat-clearing at the door.
"Just me," Levi said, dragging in a mattress. "I thought you might want to sleep in here, Ellis."
"You don't need to go through all that trouble," I said.
"I knew you'd say that." Levi's lips quirked up, a smile playing around the corners of his handsome mouth. "That's why I didn't ask. Unless you want to sleep in your own bed."
I shook my head. "It feels weird to leave her."
"We can sleep in the corner, out of Zane's way when he comes in to check on Ash," Levi said, dragging the mattress to the far side of the room.
"We?" Jacob asked.
The mattress flopped noisily to the floor. Levi said, "We. If that's what you want."
"It is."
Jacob shook his head. "Freaking Princess here wants her servants at her beck and call, all night long." But he said it without venom.
"Yep," I said. "Go get me some pillows, peasant."
Instead, Jacob tossed me over his shoulder, carrying me over to the new bed. He deposited me unceremoniously on the mattress.
I bounced across it, feeling light and happy again. I found myself grinning. Levi sprawled on the bed beside me. He threw a cozy blanket over my head, only to tackle me around the middle, tickling my sides. I squirmed and tried to buck Levi off. I threw the blanket at him and then made an attempt to capture his grinning face. His long hair was mussed, hanging around those broad shoulders that I grabbed after, but he moved too damn fast.
"Here's your pillow," Jacob said, just before something big and soft clocked me in the back of the head. I started to turn, but he was already throwing himself on the bed beside me, his arm tight around my waist. I pushed my butt back into him, trying to shove him off the mattress.
I put my feet into Levi's leanly muscled stomach to try to hold him off. Levi grabbed one foot and began to tickle me, his long fingers half-caressing and half-tickling. His thumbs rubbed the ball of my foot. I felt unexpected sparks of desire. He fooled me into relaxing before he resumed running his fingertips lightly down my sole. I squirmed away.
I just barely caught the movement at the door. Ryker stopped in the doorway and then turn to leave, as if he felt like he wouldn't be welcome in this rare, playful moment.
"Not fair," I said, yanking my feet away from Levi. "You two aren't ticklish."
"I'm pretty sure Levi still is," Jacob said. "When we were kids, you couldn't get anywhere near his armpits without him beginning to giggle. Didn't even have to touch him."
"I'm getting a whole new picture of Levi," I said teasingly. "Crying about dogs, ticklish—"
"Who doesn't get sad about a dog dying?" Levi asked. "I'm a demon-killer, not a psychopath."
Jacob pulled me against the warm, hard length of his body. His tickling fingers sweeping up my side accidentally brushed against my breast. A thrum of lust hummed through my body.
Just like in the tub, I had absolutely no idea how to deal with this situation, as fun as it was.
"I'll be right back." I sat up, gently disentangling myself from Jacob. "I'm going to get the quilt off my bed."
But my mission wasn't the quilt. I crossed the house, which was now dark and quiet. There were dishes still piled in the kitchen sink. The faint glow from the dying fire in the fireplace was the only light, beside the moonlight streaming silver into the expansive living room.
I went up the stairs, and my heart rose in my throat. Nerves. It was funny that I knew these boys loved me and yet I could still get so nervous around them.
The door to Ryker's room was closed. I hesitated, because I'd never felt like I had to knock before. Ryker's room had felt like my own room, even though the boys had offered me a guest room from day one.
I could always feel him when he was near me, the faint charge of adrenaline that went through my body when he was near, and maybe he could feel me, too. Because as I stood there hesitating, he opened the door.
Ryker filled the doorway, tall and leanly muscled, his dark blond hair spiky. I wouldn't have chosen to stand so close to him. Now that he'd pulled his door open we were close enough for me to smell his cologne, the way he smelled like fresh grass and soap and woodsmoke all at the same time. God, he was the most delicious boy, and something in me gave a little. Because his eyes were so deeply green and so serious as they met mine. Because his lush lips above that big, masculine jaw always made my own lips tingle with the urge to kiss him. Because he was Ryker.
"What is it, Ellis?" he asked softly.
"Aren't you coming to bed?" I asked. Trying to play it cool.
"Is there room for me?"
"There's always room for you." I turned away, to head back down the hall. "It's BYOB. Bring your own blanket."
Please come. Please come.
I wasn't going to be the one who lost our argument,, but I didn't want to lose him, either.
And it just hurt my heart to think of him sleeping up here, cold and alone, instead of wrapped up in the warmth of our shared connections.
I heard his door click shut behind me, and I closed my eyes for a second, disappointment washing over me.
"I know you're just in it for my quilt," he said, his voice low and husky and sexy as ever, and right behind me.
"Absolutely." I ignored the warmth that bloomed in my chest.
"I'm not spooning with Jacob," he said.
"I think we can figure something out." I glanced over my shoulder at him. "Thanks, Ryker. I need you all. To sleep."
And every day. I needed every one of them, with their different personalities and gifts and the different ways they challenged me and loved me.
Even if, like I had said at dinner, some of them were assholes sometimes.
"Don't mention it," he said. "Please. Don't mention it in public."
But he followed me down the moonlit stairs, and as we crossed the downstairs, his shoulder bumped into mine. I leaned into him, wanting him close to me, and he leaned back into me, too.
He glanced toward me, his lips arching up slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
My heart lifted slightly.
My Ryker. No matter what.
5
It took me a while to fall asleep. The room was brighter than I like, because the door to the hall was open and the hall lights were on. The noise of the machines on the other side of the room was hard for me to block out. But I kept my eyes closed, listening to the soft breathing of the boys around me, and waited for their peace to lull me to sleep.
Softly, Ryker said, "Jake."
Jacob rolled over slightly; I could feel the movement of his body against mine, since he was close to me, his arm slung possessively over my waist. "Yeah?"
"I didn't know if you were awake."
"Think so."
"I just wanted to say. Sorry if I was an asshole before. I'm glad you're back."
"Don't worry about it," Jacob said. "You were right. I was stupid."
"Am I awake?" Ryker mused aloud. "This feels like a dream. Yep. I have definitely had this dream before."
"See, now you're being an asshole."
"I was really afraid we'd lost you, brother." Ryker's voice was husky and low.
"Can't lose me that easy," Jacob promised. "I always come back."
I expected Ryker to have some quick comeback. Instead, there was a long pause. Then Ryker said, hi
s voice low, the words quick, as if they made him uncomfortable, "I count on that."
There was another pause between them. I bit down on my lip, resisting the urge to squirm. Their gruff boy-dialogue made me restless when I knew what they were really trying to say. There was so much love between them and they wouldn't just say it. Not even when one of them almost died.
"How are you doing, anyway?" Ryker's voice had that false-casual note I'd come to know well.
Jacob groaned. "Go back to sleep."
"You've been through hell. That's all I'm saying."
"There's a whole lot wrapped up in all I'm saying."
"I'm pretty sure I'd be a mess," Ryker said, his voice boyish and blunt in the dark. "I don't know how you keep it together."
There was a pause for a second. Then Jacob said, "I'm sure you'd figure it out. We're strong stock, you and me."
"And Levi, despite the dog-thing?"
I could hear the faint exhales of their breath as they smiled in the dark.
"I'm just saying. Strong stock or not, you don't have to figure it all out on your own. You've got us."
"Go to sleep." Jacob said. "Jesus."
But there was no ire in his voice.
Jacob rolled over, burying his face in my hair. I felt his warmth all along my body. Levi slept with one leg thrown over mine, as usual.
Ryker had insisted on slipping a mattress in at the top of the bed, and he slept there. As he fell asleep, he threw his arm out, and it fell against my arm. His fingers curled against my naked wrist so that we, too, were touching in our sleep.
And so, warm and safe with these rough angels of mine, I fell asleep.
6
The lute music haunted me in my dreams.
It was strange that I could tell the lute apart from the guitar. I'd never heard a lute before. It was the Lilith in me who knew, who had heard Samael's quick fingers pluck the lute's many strings.
The lute had a clear, sharp sound. It was brighter than the sound of a guitar being strummed, and every bar of melody seemed to strum some memory of mine, too. Samael when I loved him, walking ahead of me through the tall, waving green grass of an enormous field, where small animals chittered their greetings to us. His delight when he bit into a plum and then handed it to me so the fruit could burst open on my tongue in all its lush, sweet deliciousness. The way he used to play for me, the music floating in the still air of a summer night, as we lay naked and unafraid under the wide expanse of perfect golden stars.
And then, of course, the rest of it: Samael's anger that seemed to vibrate between us; Samael turning his back on me to walk away through the garden for some slight I couldn't remember now; Samael straightening from the lush grass, and the rough edge of the rock in his palm that I saw without understanding what he would do next.
My eyes snapped open in the dark. I felt sick with the memories, and I didn't know whether I should try to remember them—the precious secrets of the first woman who had lived since the dawn of time—or if I should do everything I could to leave behind the wispy fragments of my nightmares.
The room was quiet around me. The boys were breathing softly. The machines were still pumping.
And then I caught the faint strains of lute music, clear and bright even at a distance.
My heart beat too quickly in my chest, but at the same time, I knew it was Nimshi. Somehow.
And I thought of Ryker's promise to kill him when he saw him again.
Gently, I eased up Jacob's arm and slipped out from underneath. I sat up carefully to avoid disturbing Ryker's outstretched arm, and slowly pulled my calf out from under Levi's. I scooted in careful, quiet inches across the bed, and then, moving quickly and quietly across the room, I stole out of the room.
I could see down the hall, to Zane sleeping on the couch with one arm thrown over his face.
I slipped my feet into Wendy's motorcycle boots before I hesitated. I had no intention of being stupid; if I hadn't been afraid of the boys' murderous intent, I never would have gone out there alone. I would have turned back to wake them and tell them I heard something strange.
But I could feel a tug toward every one of the brothers I was fated for. More than anything, I feared that Ryker or Jacob or Levi would make a terrible mistake, killing their own kin, and never be able to recover. We were supposed to be five, and I wouldn't give up on any one of them quite that easily.
Nimshi, who couldn't bear to hurt me in the demon's case, wasn't going to hurt me here, either.
I stepped onto the front porch, closing the door softly behind me. It was warm out here; a Virginia summer evening felt sweltering outside of air conditioning.
"What do you want?" I asked.
But I couldn't see Nimshi. The lute music seemed to be coming from the other side of the house.
I crossed my arms over my chest. "Tell me this isn't a kidnapping attempt. I am in no mood for that nonsense today."
The music turned ominous for a second, several plucked low strings vibrating like something in a horror movie, and then returned to playful, bubbly notes, as if to overrule my fear.
I sighed out loud. Carefully opening the front door, afraid I'd be caught, I slipped inside and grabbed one of the swords. Then I set off in search of the music.
I followed bright notes around the house, past the deck still lit with strings of twinkling lights, and down the running trail. The sword I carried was heavy in my hand, the scabbard brushing the smooth-packed dirt every now and then when I didn't notice a rise in the terrain. I bit down on my lip as I walked. Stupid, Ellis. I had a hunch, but I shouldn't bet my life on a hunch.
I took the left fork at the furthest point of the trail. We usually followed the trail as it bent to the right to head toward the graves and then looped back home. The left fork was narrow. I had to duck beneath occasional untrimmed branches that had grown across the trail. Far overhead, high branches tangled together, casting spidery shadows onto the silver-lit ground.
I emerged from the trail into a green clearing. In front of me was the shimmering waters of the boys' lake; I knew that somewhere on the other side, I'd camped with Ryker.
The lute music broke off. Nimshi sat concealed in the shadows, with his back against a tree. When his eyes met mine, his face brightened. He stood quickly and carried the lute loosely by its neck as he ambled toward me.
"Thank you for coming, Ellis," he said. "I didn't trust those ruffians you live with."
"You shouldn't," I said. "They want to kill you. They have excellent instincts when it comes to people."
"Do they?" He cocked his head slightly at me, a smile lighting his handsome face. "You're here. You don't seem to share the same sense."
"I have a dangerous sense of curiosity," I said.
"I'm not trying to hurt you," he promised. His eyes fell to the sword in my hand, and he held his hands casually out to his sides, showing me he had no weapons. "No kidnapping attempt. I just wanted to talk."
"And to show off your knowledge of ancient music."
"My father played the lute."
"Hedron, was it?"
Nimshi nodded. "I wanted to rescue him from Hell, that was the deal I tried to make, but instead they zapped Samael up into that body."
I had so many questions. But I had to stick with the most pressing. "Why did you want to see me?"
"I need your help," he said.
"I'm not sure how I could help a demon," I said.
"Half-demon," he said. "And I also wanted to know how you were doing."
"A little less-well than I was before being tortured in a demon's case, thank you for asking."
He shifted uncomfortably, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I didn't really torture you. Showed you things you didn't want to see, sure. But I didn't hurt you."
"I don't think you know how hurt works."
"I'm sorry."
"That doesn't really mean anything, coming from you."
"I hope it will," he said. "If you give me time. Get to know
me."
"I'm a Hunter now." I gestured between us with the tip of the sword. "I don't think my kind gets to know your kind."
He nodded, his dark hair bobbing into his eyes, and then suddenly knelt in front of me, sinking to his knees in the dew-damp grass. "Then kill me. If you don't want to get to know me, if you think you know exactly what I am, go ahead and kill me."
"You're being weird," I said flatly.
"Hell's freaks are on my heels," he said. "They'll come here eventually, too, looking for me. When they figure out where this is. I'm dead without you anyway. So it doesn't matter if you kill me now."
He began to unbutton his shirt, his fingers quick and nimble, exposing a leanly muscled, hairless chest. He wasn't much older than me, his frame smaller than the other brothers, even though he had a lean swimmer's body.
"I'll make it easy for you," he said, yanking his shirt down around his shoulders.
I tried not to stare at Nimshi. He was not as broad-shouldered and muscular as my boys—not yet—but his body was still chiseled. And there was always that damn magical lust thing. That must be what made it hard for me to drag my eyes away from his naked shoulders and the pendant hanging around his neck.
"Drive the blade right here." He tapped a spot on his leanly muscled chest. "If you want me dead. Have your way."
"Put your shirt back on," I said. "You're giving me the worst case of second-hand embarrassment."
"I deserve to die, don't I?" he said. "For what I did to you? Or for what I am? Which is it?"
"I don't even know what the hell you are," I said. "But I really might kill you if you don't put your damn shirt back on."
Nimshi stood easily from the ground, the knees of his jeans soaked dark from the dew. He grinned slightly to himself as he began to button his shirt back up. Clearly, that felt like victory to him.
And I guess it was, because if it was a choice between hearing out the half-demon and murdering him, I'd listen to what he had to say.
"You wouldn't have come out here if you thought I was dangerous," he said. "You're not stupid."
"Well, that's a matter of some debate," I muttered.
