by Mary Calmes
My head was tipped sideways. A wet tongue slithered from shoulder to ear, tasting, licking, lips pressed to my skin before teeth. Even the bite did not move me, infuse me with the will to fight. The tug of skin, the first swallow—even then, I was frozen from what I had just witnessed.
My family had been taken from me by a blood demon, by a pack of them. The warder of the city I lived in at the time, I had grown up in, Knoxville, Tennessee, had found them and killed them. I was twelve when I went to live in San Francisco with my Aunt Gail. At sixteen I met Jael. One of his warders was sent to Paris, and he needed a replacement. I felt the call, his call, the stirring inside the moment I saw the man. He was like a surrogate father to me; I didn’t want him worried that a kyrie wanted to drink my blood. I kept it to myself and hunted Raphael down alone. I would have killed him, but then I saw Frank.
“Is your heart so broken that you would gift me with all your blood?”
I would have tried to kill him at least. Kyries were preternatural bounty hunters; they were not the easiest things to dispatch.
“Tell me your blood is mine to take, warder.”
His question brought me from my thoughts.
“You think you found me, but the truth is… I let you.”
Let me?
“Of the two of us, I’m the true hunter. You protect; I hunt.”
I couldn’t think. His tongue slid over my punctured flesh, soothed it, and eased away the sting, the heartbeat of raw, pulsing pain.
“I wanted you to find me,” he said softly. “I hoped.”
Hoped?
“You taste like heat and life, warder.” He breathed the words in my ear. “I will devour you, and you will be mine. I’ve never ached like I do now. Only speak the words, and I will take you from this place, from this pain. Only speak the words.”
“What words are those?”
“‘Take me’. Tell me to take you, and I will.”
I shivered hard because it was tempting. Death and oblivion sounded okay. “You want me to let you kill me?”
“No, warder,” he breathed over my skin, his nose slipping down the side of my neck. “You mistake my desire for you as a desire for your death. I don’t want to kill you; I simply want you to be mine.”
The darkness in him was the only thing I understood at that moment, but I wasn’t ready to tumble into the abyss. Not yet. “Go away. Please,” I begged him, screwing my eyes up tight.
When I opened them moments later, I was alone on the roof in the howling wind. I sat there even when the sky opened and poured down icy rain. I couldn’t move. I was rooted there to the spot where everything I knew had come to an end.
“Jacks.” Marcus bumped my shoulder and brought me from the past back to the present.
I turned to look.
“Have you even talked to Frank at all?”
“I have,” I told him, coughing.
“And?”
What was I going to tell him? That Frank had said I was selfish and I had agreed that I was? That Frank didn’t want to be the custodian of our relationship anymore? That the man I loved wanted and needed more than I could give him? “He wants to be happy.” I shrugged. “Who can blame him?”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means that he should be able to count on me listening to him, not just the other way around. He said that all I ever did was take, that I never gave anything back.”
“I don’t follow,” Malic told me.
“He wants more.”
“More what?”
“Caring. I was dragging all my shit home to him day after day and never letting him vent, never listening for what he needed.”
“And so fucking around on you, that was the way to clue you in?”
“He said he tried talking to me and I just never heard him.”
“That’s bullshit,” Marcus growled. “When Joe wants my attention, he makes sure he gets it. And think about that for a minute. Joey is quiet and composed… but if he’s unhappy, don’t we all know it?”
There was no argument. “He hit me with a book the last time because he thought—just thought, mind you—that I wasn’t listening to him.”
Marcus smiled. “I always tell him I’m thinking so he doesn’t poke me. But the man’s blind, so he can’t see you and check.”
“Blind my ass,” I grumbled. Technically Marcus’s hearth couldn’t see, but he was one of the most perceptive men I knew. Just by things I didn’t say, he could assess my mood.
“Yeah.” Marcus sighed.
Five, almost six years, and he still got the dopey look on his face whenever he thought about the man he loved. Not that Joseph Locke wasn’t in the same boat; theirs was a love I actually still believed in, as I saw it all over both their faces whenever I saw the two men together. And the banter that went back and forth was a treat to hear. I liked walking places with them. I liked to watch them hold hands, see Joe reach for Marcus, not tentatively but knowing full well that his partner would be there. I missed it, the faith and the certainty. It was a blessing to walk through the day knowing that you belonged to someone else. To be let go was something I had never hoped to be.
“I should go home,” I told my friends.
“Come with us.”
“I’m shitty company,” I assured them, “and I’m drunk. I need to go home.”
“Hey.”
The three of us turned to find Julian Nash leaning on the bar, gifting us with a smile that translated warmth and interest at the same time. The man looked like home, and I wanted one of my own.
“Julian,” Marcus greeted him. “How are you?”
“Good,” he said as he put a hand on Malic’s back.
Most people were not brave enough to touch the man without being asked. He was scary, plain and simple, and just from looking at him, I could tell that Julian was not intimidated in any way.
“What’re you guys up to?”
“Just checkin’ on drunk as shit here.” Malic tipped his head to me, not saying a word about Julian crowding him or touching him.
“Jackson.”
My eyes flicked to Julian.
“Me and my buddy Cash are meeting Ry and Cash’s wife, Phoebe, here, and then we’re all goin’ out to dinner. Why don’t you come?”
“I—”
“Why don’t you all come?”
“No thanks.” Marcus smiled, unable not to. “Me and Malic are expected at my place, but I think Jacks going is a great idea.”
I shook my head.
“Why not?” Julian pressed me.
“Because Ryan won’t like it,” I said flatly. He’d much rather spend time with you and your friends than with any of us. He hates us.”
“Speak for yourself,” Marcus told me.
“Oh c’mon,” I groused. “I don’t know a man that hates being a warder more than Ry, and because of that, he hates all of us too. You know it and I know it. There’s no way he wants any of us around.”
Dead silence.
Shit.
I leaned over and buried my face in my arms on top of the bar. I was hoping they’d all just go away.
“Actually,” Julian said, his voice low, sensual, as his fingers dug into my shoulders. “You guys are the only family he has, and he kind of likes you.”
I was going to argue, but he was kneading my tight muscles with his strong hands, and dear God in heaven, it felt good. I was used to having someone touch me. I had two years of hand-holding and hugging and leaning and quick pecks and wet kisses with tongue to get over. I was used to being loved physically and emotionally, and to go from getting a full-body hug at least once a day to nothing was heartbreaking. No one had touched me since Frank left.
“Ry would love if you had dinner with us.”
I was going to start bawling like a baby if I did not get the hell out of there.
“Maybe another time,” I said, quickly jerking up, almost knocking over Julian and the barstool as I stood. I shoved my hands down into my
pockets. “I gave the bartender my credit card to run a tab,” I told Malic. “Close it out for me, okay? And give him a big-ass tip. I’ll see ya, guys.”
I bolted around Julian, waved to his friend, Cash, who I recognized sitting at the table, grabbed my peacoat off the coat rack at the end of the bar, and was outside seconds later. Unfortunately I plowed right into Ryan Dean.
“What’re you doing?” he snapped.
“Nothing, sorry,” I growled. “See ya.”
But he held on, and even though he was shorter than me by a couple of inches, leaner, less muscular, he was just as strong. So when I went to go, he swung me around to face him.
I stared at him, into his hazel eyes, and watched his brows slowly furrow.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” he ground out, dragging me a few feet away, still under the awning of the bar so we were not standing in the rain. “You’re drunk off your ass.”
“I can’t have dinner,” I almost whined, my voice cracking. “Ry, I can’t see Marcus and Joe or you and Julian. I just…. It’s stupid but—”
“You need to shave this,” he told me, changing the subject just like I needed him to. I could have kissed him, I was so grateful. He put his hands on my face. “All this—this isn’t you.”
I nodded, and his hand slid around the back of my neck as he leaned my head down into his shoulder.
“For fuck’s sake, Ry, don’t be nice to me.”
“No, you’re right,” he said, shoving me away from him. “That would never do.”
I tried to smile, but he was great and didn’t stand there and make me. He just pulled the very confused-looking woman with the jade-colored eyes after him into the bar. I flipped up the collar on my peacoat and ran down the street to the next awning and the next until I crossed one street and then another. I saw a pub I liked and headed for it. Halfway there I saw Simon Kim, my friend Leith’s hearth, get out of a cab and hurry inside. I would have gone somewhere else, but I was out of options this far downtown. Why was I suddenly awash in hearths?
When I looked back up from the ground toward the front door, I saw another man, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Slipping into the doorway of a closed real estate office, I got my phone out and called Marcus.
“Hey, Jacks, did you change your—”
“Didn’t you get a restraining order on that guy Eric Donovan so that he had to stay, like, a hundred feet away from Simon at all times?”
“What?”
“Simon. Leith’s Simon. How many fuckin’ Simons do you know?” I asked irritably.
“No, I—oh, you’re somewhere else and—oh. Oh. Yeah.”
He had worked it out. “So if I just saw Simon go in a bar, and that guy Eric followed him, then—”
“Then tell me where you are, and me and Malic will be right there.”
I told him where I was, flipped my BlackBerry closed, and crossed the street to the pub.
It was noisy inside. The game was on—Monday Night Football—and it was hard to get through the crowd. Even though I was not small at six two, two hundred pounds, it was still slow going. Being a warder, I could have plowed through them if I needed to, but there was no emergency. I saw Simon sitting at a small round table toward the back, the pitcher of beer on the table letting me know that he, like Julian, was meeting friends, and I spotted the guy I had tailed at the end of the bar. There was an empty barstool beside him, and I took it.
I lifted my hand to catch the bartender’s eye, and he was there immediately, asking what I was having. I ordered a cognac and then leaned sideways and asked Eric Donovan what he was having.
“What?” He was startled when I bumped him and even more alarmed to have not only my attention but the bartender’s as well.
“What’re you drinking?” The bartender fired the question at him.
“I—I don’t—”
“Can’t sit at the bar if you’re not drinkin’,” I told him.
“That’s right,” the bartender agreed, smirking before turning back to Eric. “So what’s it gonna be?”
“Uhm, wine, I guess.”
“White wine spritzer?” I teased him.
The bartender snorted out a laugh. “Coming right up.”
“No, wait. I—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I ordered him under my breath.
His head twisted to me. “What did you just—”
“You’re so fuckin’ lucky it’s me that saw you trailing Simon in here and not Leith,” I said, leaning into him.
All the color drained from his face at once. His eyes got huge and round, and his mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“You’re not supposed to be here, Mr. Donovan.”
“No,” he agreed.
I nodded, tipped my head sideways, and studied his face. “Do you want to hurt him?”
“No, I—”
“You just need him to listen to you.”
“Yes,” he exclaimed.
“Do you have a firearm on you, Mr. Donovan?”
The look I was getting was absolutely broken. I recognized it. I wore it a lot myself.
“Do you want to gimme the gun before Mr. Kim’s lawyer, the one I just called, shows up and has you carted off to jail?”
He swallowed hard and nodded.
“Is it in your suit pocket or the pocket of your trench coat?”
“Suit.”
“Okay,” I soothed him. “Lean into me and drop it into my coat pocket.”
“But—”
“This is the last time you’re ever gonna see it. Wrap your brain around that.”
“It’s my father’s, not mine.”
“Then be prepared to explain things to him.”
“I—”
“You’re violating your restraining order, Mr. Donovan.” I let my voice go cold. “Not to mention that even though Leith Haas is one of the sweetest guys you ever wanna meet, where Simon Kim is concerned, he can be kind of territorial. I heard he can turn into a real caveman.”
His eyes, when they flicked to mine, were scared, and he didn’t even know the half of it.
Four months ago Leith and Simon had taken an unexpected trip into a hell dimension. By all accounts the siphon world had changed the normally sensitive and articulate warder into a barbarian. The only way Simon had been able to communicate with him at all was because in any form Leith took, Simon was still the heart of a warder, his hearth. Even though they had only been dating for half a year, I saw their bond becoming stronger with each passing day.
“Mr. Donovan?”
He leaned into me, slid the gun into the large pocket on the outside of my peacoat, and stood up, staring down at me. “My father will want his gun back.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Donovan,” I said evenly, my gaze fastened on his, holding him there.
“Who are you?”
“I’m your guardian angel, obviously.”
He took a shaky breath. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You need to understand that this is your last chance, Mr. Donovan.” I sighed, turning to tip my head at the bartender as he deposited my Courvoisier and Eric’s lightweight drink on the bar in front of us.
“I would never actually hurt—”
“I’m not a good man,” I confessed solemnly, my eyes flicking back to his from my cognac. “Isn’t this pretty?”
He nodded.
“I’m gonna drink mine and you drink yours, and we’ll go out the back, and no one will know you were here.”
He took the glass, and I watched him wrestle with his choice. Stay or go, fight or run, what to do, what to do….
I drained my glass, pulled out my wallet, and lifted my hand for the bartender. He was there fast, and I gave him a twenty and a ten. “Thanks.” I smiled.
“Stick around,” he told me.
I smiled my appreciation for the flirting, rose, and took Eric Donovan’s arm. I saw Marc
us and Malic outside and tightened my hand on his bicep. I suddenly wished I hadn’t called them because I had no interest in seeing them for the second time that night.
I dragged Eric after me down the short hall, past the bathrooms, and out the back. In the thick air outside, I swung him around hard and slammed him up against the wall.
He clutched at the brick at his back.
I reached into the breast pocket of my peacoat and withdrew my business card. “I am in private security, Mr. Donovan. If your father wants to know where his gun is, he can call me. This is your last warning. If you go near Simon Kim ever again, I will be forced to put you somewhere you won’t like.”
He stared into my eyes.
“I know you met Leith’s friend Malic Sunden, didn’t you?”
There was a quick nod.
“And I know you met Leith’s lawyer, Marcus Roth.”
Yes, he had, and he let me know with another nod.
“I’m different from them.” I exhaled, swallowing hard, feeling the anger well up in me. “Marcus is inherently good. So is Malic.” I squinted at him. “I used to be good too, but I’m not anymore. I will hurt you, so if nothing else will deter you, if nothing else will scare you, let it be this.”
He sucked in his breath when I put the switchblade to his throat a second later.
“I don’t care what happens to me.” I shivered, feeling how cold I was inside. “Don’t make me hurt you, okay? Please.”
My voice, my eyes, and the blade, all of it together were too much. I smelled the urine even before I saw it puddling beside his right leg. He was wearing a navy suit. He could walk away, and no one would know.
It took me a second to realize that I had him pinned against the brick wall. I stepped back, careful where I stepped, and he levered off the wall and ran. My phone rang a second later.
“Hey.” I coughed, clearing my throat.
“Where the hell are you?” Marcus asked. “I’m here, Malic’s here, and Leith just got here to meet Simon. Where the hell are you?”
“Sorry,” I told him, starting around the side of the building back toward the sidewalk. “I don’t know why I called you; I was out of it. I took care of it already.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he had a gun on him and I need to get rid of it.”
