A minute later, she coughs.
“Need to breathe here, bruin.”
I shift a fraction of an inch, the effort making me groan. She gasps. “Never mind. Just hold still. Very, very still.”
I smile against the short, damp tendrils of her hair. “Liked that, did you?”
“It was pretty decent, yeah.”
I roll my eyes and force my legs to straighten so I can look down at her. Of course, she needs to lighten the moment. To push it away until she can process it properly. Fine. Two can play at this game.
“Your voice sounds kinda hoarse there, Jett. Maybe from all the screaming you did down my throat. But,” I lean in close, “it’s okay if I did most of the work this go-around. Next time, you can show me what you’ve got.”
She snorts, lips twitching as she pushes me back. “You’re assuming there’s going to be a next time.”
“There will be. Now that you know what you’ve been missing.”
“There’s that ego again, furface.” She can’t quite keep the affection out of her voice this time. And I treasure that more than the damn sex.
Well, almost.
“You like my ego, along with other parts of me.” I pull out of her reluctantly, making us both curse. Her legs are shaking as I gently set her back on her feet.
So I keep my arms wrapped around her a few minutes more, letting her get her balance again, swearing internally as her hands slide down to explore my naked ass, lingering long enough my cock starts to get ideas again.
She finally releases me with a light smack to each cheek. “Your ass is lucky I wasn’t wearing my studded boots today.”
I raise an eyebrow as I step back to yank my jeans up. “You think I would’ve cared? I can take whatever you’ve got, witch.”
She watches me button up, her eyes dark with something that makes me want to find her bedroom and spend a few more hours here. “Next time I might take you up on that.”
My hands still at the low words. She said next time. I finish buttoning up with a huge grin on my face.
Oh yeah, I’m getting to her.
By the sudden scowl Jett’s sporting, she knows it, too.
11
I’m on my way to Duluth, cursing every mile. My head aches and my eyes feel like they’ve been used for pincushions. Which isn’t a surprise, seeing as I’ve gotten jack shit for sleep in the past week. Fucking dreams.
It’s not what you call unusual for me to wake up several times a night with my dick hard and Jett in my head. The unusual part is not being able to think of anything else. I’ve been useless for the past two days, driving everyone around me, including myself, batshit crazy. Hence my impromptu urge for a morning drive. I have to see her.
Just one glimpse.
But when I get there, the tattoo shop is locked up tight. Of course, it would be. It’s nine a.m. On a Sunday. An ungodly hour even on a weekday, at least according to a certain witch. Jett is probably sound asleep at home in bed. Her bed.
My gut tightens and my cock starts to throb.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Just because I’ve been plagued with dreams about her nonstop doesn’t mean she’s been suffering the same fate. For all I know, she’s been sleeping like a baby.
Hell, for all I know, she’s found someone else to warm her bed.
With a curse that rapidly turns into a growl, I stomp away from the door. I’m nearly past T&T, too, when I notice a light glowing inside the bar. And the glint of blond hair through the window along with the soft hum of music. Some Australian band, I think.
The sign says closed, but when I check the door, it’s unlocked.
“We’re closed,” a cheery voice confirms before I’m halfway through the door. Then, almost as an afterthought— “And I have a knife.”
“Like you need it,” I say as Seph comes into view.
“Stephen?” She has an oddly satisfied smile on her face as she sinks the tip of the blade into the cutting board. A pile of decimated lemons and limes sits next to it, glowing in a dust-speckled shaft of sunlight.
“Don’t you have grunts to do that?”
“I like doing it myself.”
Control freak. Though Georg always said it wasn’t so much that Seph was stubborn as it was that she didn’t like sharing. Maybe it comes of having all those siblings. I wouldn’t know. I only had the one. The pounding in my head gets louder.
Despite the early hour, she’s reaching for the Patron before I can ask. I guess bruins are predictable like that. Our weakness for tequila is kind of legendary. And Seph is sort of like family.
Her eyes never leave my face as she pours my drink. “We had a girl from UMD almost piss herself the night of my party. She ran in here, screaming that she saw a black bear a couple blocks over.”
“Imagine that.”
“Yes, imagine that.” With an arch look she slaps the bottle of tequila down on the bar. “You shift outside T&T while you’re drunk again, Stephen, and royalty or not, I’ll 86 you for life.”
“I wasn’t drunk,” I mumble.
“Really? So you had no excuse at all?”
Goddamn it. “Unless your sister counts.”
“My sisters always count. And if you’re talking about the one I think you’re talking about, you can even have bonus points.”
“You know damn well which one I’m talking about.” I suck down the shot and motion for the bottle. She pushes it over, her expression thoughtful.
“Jett did seem pissier than normal that night. I thought it was because Merry ditched her, but you make more sense.”
My hand stops with the bottle halfway to my mouth. “What the hell was she doing with that gnome?” Again.
She shakes her head, smirking. “It’s funny how Merry brings out everyone’s jealous side.”
I frown. “What’s the appeal of a guy who barely reaches your belly button?”
“Think about what you just said. Carefully.”
I glare at her before taking a long swig of the tequila. “You’re trying to get a rise out of me. Jett’s not into the gnome.”
“Nope.” She gives me a cool, knowing look, her glasses winking in the golden lights. “But why do you care?”
“Seph . . .” I take another drink before setting the bottle back on the bar. After a moment, she breaks the heavy silence.
“You could just forgive her, you know. I did.”
“I want to forgive her. I do. But it’s . . . complicated.”
Leaning her elbows on the dark, shiny wood of the bar, Seph’s eyes bore into mine. All the Gosse sisters have big blue eyes, but Jett’s are the darkest. A rich lapis blue. Seph’s are pretty, but pale in comparison. I blink and look away.
“Why? It wasn’t your back she put that sword in.” With a wince, she picks up the knife and starts chopping again.
“It could’ve been. How can I trust a woman that would do that to her own family?”
“You got something against saving the world?”
I shrug and get to my feet. “I should go.”
She points the knife at me. “Hold up one second, mister. I’ve got something I want to show you.”
I take my seat again, watching her hustle off behind the bar and down the hallway. This is the woman who knocked death out. I’m a pretty tough guy, but if Persephone wants me to hold up, my ass is holding up. I sneak another shot of tequila while she’s gone.
It doesn’t take long. She comes back to slap a strip of paper on the bar in front of me. No, not paper. Photos. Of me and Jett. My shoulders go taut like I took a haymaker to the gut. In a way, I did.
More memories.
I touch the photo strip with a fingertip. In the first one, Jett is laughing. Really laughing, something she doesn’t do nearly often enough. I’m nibbling the back of her neck and I can taste her. Soft, sweet skin. There’s just a touch of snow in her hair, making the ends curl around her cheeks, which are pink with cold. And there is something gentle in her eyes. Something almost lost. Had
she been falling for me even then?
Had I been so busy falling for her that I hadn’t even noticed how much she’d started to care?
I could’ve loved you.
I didn’t dodge shit, you stupid bruin.
I had thought she wasn’t there yet. Oh, I’d known I was wearing her down, but the finish line had seemed a good ways off. What if I was wrong? What if she’d already been there, waiting for me to catch up?
I swallow hard. Seph slaps another shot in front of me. I jump, so lost in the memories I forgot she was there.
“Is it getting simpler yet?”
I take the shot and toss it back. Then I pick up the photo strip, take out my wallet and put it inside. Seph raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say a word.
“Where is she?”
“Hell if I know.” Then she grins. “But if you think real hard about it, maybe you’ll find her.”
I frown at her, realizing my fingers feel sticky where I touched the back of the photo. I rub them together. It looks like I dipped my fingertips in glitter. No, not glitter. Is that fairy dust?
Seph’s laughter is ringing in my ears as the bar fades away.
Jett is not in bed.
She’s talking to a dryad in a rose garden. I blink in the bright morning light, watching them as my eyes and body adjust to the shift. Leif Erikson Park hasn’t reached its full glory yet, but color is everywhere. This early, it’s mostly peonies. Gold and purple and pink and red. Jett and her companion are half obscured by the fountain. The soft splash of water also conceals their voices. Doesn’t matter. I would recognize a forest spirit from a mile away at midnight while blindfolded.
For one thing, dryads smell strongly of damp earth. For another, despite the illusion of feet they project when around human eyes, I can see and hear their roots submerged in the earth, wading through grass and dirt as noisily as a human splashing in a shallow pool. This dryad appears to be a tall, honey-blond woman with pale coppery skin. She’s wearing a dress in spring green, the color like mist around her willowy form. It’s unusual to see one such as she within the city. Dryads can travel freely enough, though all forms of modern transportation are out for their kind. Losing physical contact with the earth would be a swift and sure death sentence.
She spots me before Jett does. Bruins and dryads share an affinity, not to mention a magically bound duty to the land. She inclines her head as I approach. “Your Majesty.”
Her voice carries an illusion as well, one to mimic human speech, but I hear her words as they truly are, the moan of wind through tree branches. The sound also gives me her name.
“Taika.”
She smiles before dropping a proper curtsy.
Jett’s jaw tightens as she looks me over. “This is a private conversation, bruin.”
Taika glances at her, dark green eyes full of concern. “Perhaps we should advise the king. Jett, I’m so—”
“You know what?” Jett interrupts. “You’re right. Why don’t you head back into the forest and I’ll advise His Majesty here on everything he needs to know.”
“All right. And you’ll tell me if . . . when you find her?” The words hold an edge of desperation that makes me frown.
Her? What is going on here? I open my mouth, but Jett steps between us, her arm going around the dryad’s slender waist as she leads her away from me.
“Absolutely.”
Taika frowns again, looking back at me for a minute, then her shoulders slump. She leans down very close to Jett’s ear, her leaves-in-the-wind voice so soft even I have to struggle to make out the whispered words. In the end, I only catch a few bits and pieces. “Julie,” “get her back” and what sounds like “the wren.”
Hold up.
My spine snaps straight.
The Ren. The legendary cure for all magic. A cleanse, if you will. One drop of that stuff on the tongue of any magical creature and their powers are gone. Forever.
Only dryads can produce it, and only with the help of naiads. The naiads water the tree of the dryad with their tears. The next morning, a silvery-green liquid can be collected off the leaves of the dryad’s tree, creating a substance known as the Ren. It is supposed to have other properties as well, but the eradicating magic thing is the pièce de résistance.
It’s the stuff of legends. Back in the day, it was used as a punishment for the guilty, or at least those the Council wanted to find guilty. Wars have been fought over the stuff. Long and bloody ones.
Finally, the dryads refused to make anymore. The shifters took their side, protecting the forest from those that would do them harm. Eventually the Council got on board, recognizing that the harm definitely outweighed the good. For centuries, the Ren has been nothing but a half-forgotten tale told to frighten FTC children into being good.
The dryad gives me another tiny, nervous curtsy before disappearing in a streak of gold and green. Forest spirits may be tied to the earth, but that doesn’t mean they’re slow.
“Advise me of what?”
“You don’t need to know.” Jett is already stalking off without a backward glance. She’s not in a good mood. Well, hell, neither am I. Before she can get two steps, I’m in front of her.
“What’s going on here? Who is Julie and why is she so important you’re being offered the goddamn Ren to get her back?”
“That’s a lot of questions. Forgive me, milord, but I seem to have misplaced my court manners. Fuck off.” She spins and takes off into the park, her spine stiff.
“Jett!” I don’t shout her name. I roar it.
She stops like she’s hit a brick wall, looking back over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. Several morning joggers next to her on the path collide with each other. The hanging flowerpots on the lampposts shake back and forth like they’re on a ship, bright petunias trembling in the sun.
A bicyclist slams on his brakes, staring up at the sky as if looking for a passing jet from the nearby base. I don’t blame him for thinking someone broke the sound barrier. I get loud when I’m pissed.
It’s a bear thing.
Jett is shaking her head as I stalk toward her. “That’s a naughty thing to do in the city. You don’t watch your ass and the Council will be after it, Your Majesty.”
“Stop with the fucking titles and tell me what the hell is going on here.”
“Nothing is going on.” My face must convince her it would be prudent to give me something, because with her next breath she says grudgingly, “Her friend is missing. I’m working on it. No need to fuss yourself.”
“No need, huh? You’re so exhausted you’re practically dead on your feet.” Even worse than she was when I saw her at the Council meeting, I realize belatedly. For the first time I wonder if maybe it’s not just our situation riding her. Maybe something else is under her skin. Concern sharpens my already harsh voice.
She glares at me over folded arms. “Why are you here, Stephen? We’re through. I’m sure you remember the conversation. I know I do.”
The anger hides most of the pain in her voice, but not all. My stomach twists. What am I doing here? Torturing her?
Torturing myself?
Even if Jett does love me, haven’t I already decided it’s too dangerous to try and fix this thing between us? Too dangerous.
But . . .
“I wanted to see you.” I rub the back of my head, looking past her at the gleaming lake. “I had to see you. The last few nights . . . I need to know . . . Shit.” I don’t know how to explain this to her. I don’t know where to start.
Back when I found out what Jett had done to Seph, I was more than shocked.
I was devastated. Fucking reeling. I’d already known I was courting disaster with her. I’d known it. There is a reason I am so rigid about certain things, why I have a reputation for being uptight. Why I have avoided women beyond the fundamental basics for most of my adult life. But one look at her and all that control went up in flames. I’d convinced myself I could make it work. Fuck destiny. She was my mate and I woul
d find a goddamn way. Nothing else was acceptable.
I had to have her.
Then I found out what she was capable of. Really capable of.
I need a woman who understands loyalty. Given my past and what I know of my future, it’s the one thing I can’t afford to compromise on. Jett killed her sister. No matter the reason, a woman who is capable of that is capable of anything. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure I could reorder fate, that I could force the stars to align the way I wanted them to. What it comes down to is this.
I got scared.
And I’m still scared. My arm aches where that arrow is burned into the skin and I grit my teeth.
I’ve always known the margin for a happy ending here was razor thin. I thought I had accepted that. That I knew the worst life was capable of and I was prepared to risk it. But facing what she did to Seph made me realize I had no fucking clue what was possible. Not to mention, this isn’t just about me anymore. I’m the king. The lengths Jett is willing to go for her family woke me up. I was forced to make a choice.
But looking at her now, all I can think is, did I make the right one? I wasn’t sure she was capable of loving me, not the way I love her, but if she can, if she does . . .
What the fuck have I done?
She eyes me warily. “What about last night?”
“I was thinking about us.” I move closer, backing her up into the fountain. The mere fact that she retreats at all tells me what I need to know. She hasn’t let me go, not yet. I still have a chance to fix this.
The knot inside me loosens as I reach up and brush my fingers through her hair, from her temple to her nape. The dark silk is warm from the heat of the sun. She looks up at me, her lips trembling.
“Don’t do this, Stephen,” she whispers.
“What?” I bend down, inhaling her scent, her desire sweeter than the flowers around us. My lips are a hairbreadth from her skin, the swirl of fleurs-de-lis inked behind her ear. “Don’t make you want me?”
“No. Don’t make me think I can trust you again.”
Her words leave me cold. I drop my hands and step back. “You never trusted me. Not really.”
Threescore & Tequila (Toil & Trouble Book 4) Page 8
