Prim and Proper Fate (Twisted Fate Series Book 2)

by Tami Lund

  “Here.” She stepped back just enough to cup his face with her hands.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Healing you. Just relax for a minute.”

  He couldn’t relax, not with her touching him like that. Not when his body was all but tingling from that few moments of full-on contact. Not when all he could think about was dragging her back to the bedroom and scratching this itch that kept getting more and more insistent with each passing hour. And with a Fate, no less. Life was pretty fucking strange sometimes.

  “Better?”

  Brandon blinked. Prim had pulled away and was back to sipping her tea. He lifted a hand and touched his face. The scratches that had been there a few minutes ago were gone. He looked at his arm. Those scratches were gone, too. He touched his ribs. No pain.

  “How the hell did you do that?”

  Prim shrugged. “All Fates have the ability to heal others, to a small degree. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there seems to be . . . some sort of connection between you and I.”

  “I’ve noticed.” His words were clipped. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to analyze this connection any further.

  “I imagine that made it easier for me to fully heal you, more quickly than I could have anyone else.”

  He considered asking if she had the ability to take away his persistent back pain, but he changed his mind. He rather enjoyed the backrubs.

  “What’s the deal with the connection?” he asked, abruptly changing his mind about analyzing it further.

  She hesitated, a sure sign she was about to lie to him, or at the very least, hedge the truth a little. “I’m not entirely sure,” she finally admitted.

  He supposed he couldn’t really fault her for that answer.

  The sound of a cell phone ringing interrupted them, and they both turned to look out toward the living room. Sydney came hurrying out of the bathroom, wiping her eyes. William trailed behind her, hovering like an oversized mother hen. Sydney dug her cell phone out of her purse, and her eyes widened when she looked at the display.

  “It’s Gavin,” she whispered, fear and pain lancing through her words.

  “Don’t—” William started, but Brandon cut him off.

  “Answer it,” Brandon commanded.

  Sydney nodded and pushed the button to connect the call. Brandon stepped up next to her, so he could listen. Not that it was necessary. His enhanced hearing picked up the gravelly, rough voice without a problem.

  “Hello, Chala.” Gavin’s rusty-sounding chuckle traveled across the phone line. “I can tell you’re turned on. All it takes is the sound of my voice? Can’t believe the little Chala is so easy.”

  “I’m not,” Sydney protested indignantly.

  “Don’t listen to him, Sydney,” Brandon said.

  “Is that the Light One? Tell him I’m going to rip his fucking head from his shoulders, when I’m done with you. I don’t take kindly to being bested.” He sounded angry.

  “What are you going to do to me?” Sydney wanted to know.

  “Kill you. I keep telling you that. You don’t believe me?”

  “No,” Sydney said firmly. “You wouldn’t. You can’t. You love me, Gavin. I know you do. This isn’t you talking.” Her voice shook with emotion.

  “You’re wrong, Chala. This is me. That shifter you’ve been fucking all this time. That was the curse. That wasn’t me. This is me. And I’m going to relish this kill all the more because of it. Tell the Fate that. Tell her I’m going to kill the last Chala on earth. All she did was delay the inevitable and make the kill so much sweeter. Goodbye, Chala. ‘Til we meet again.” The line went dead.

  When she simply stood there, holding the phone in her hand, staring off into space, Brandon grabbed the device and dropped it back into her purse.

  “Sydney? Sweetheart? You okay?” William reached out and gently touched her arm. She reacted as if he’d zapped her with a stun gun. She jerked away from him, flinging her arms out, her eyes wide and wild, until she finally focused on William and managed to pull herself together.

  After clearing her throat several times, she said, “He said he’s going to kill me.”

  “That’s it,” Brandon said brusquely. “We’re out of here. We need to move you someplace safe. Now. Let’s go.”

  Before anyone could react to his decision, his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen and furrowed his brow. He didn’t recognize the number.

  “Hello?”

  “May I please speak to Prim?”

  The feminine, slightly childlike voice sent a skitter of awareness across his senses. He offered the phone to Prim. “It’s for you.”

  “Me?” She furrowed her brow as well. He watched as a parade of emotions flitted across her face until she snatched the phone out of his hand and said, breathlessly, “Hello?”

  He blatantly eavesdropped.

  “Prim!” Prim jerked the phone from her ear as the high-pitched squeal reverberated over the cell phone lines.

  Prim glanced at him and then moved away from the group, putting the phone back to her ear at the same time. He followed.

  “Lily? Is everything okay? I told you to only call this number if it’s an emergency. How are you calling, anyway? If you’re on the island—”

  “I’m not.”

  She tried to move away from Brandon again, and he relentlessly followed her. Whoever the hell was on the line, she had Prim more agitated than he’d ever seen her, even when they were in Gavin’s apartment and thought they were about to curse the Rakshasa again.

  “Where are you, exactly?” She stood at the end of the hall, next to the closed door to William’s bedroom, unable to escape. Making no attempt to hide her irritation, she opened the door and stepped inside. Brandon’s palm slapped the door when she tried to close it behind her.

  “Well, Gaya says we’re in a place called New Orleans. This is amazing, Prim! I cannot believe you never brought me here before. All the people. And the colors. And the crazy outfits. Everyone is wearing colorful costume jewelry and they’re all drunk and happy. This is fabulous!”

  Prim closed her eyes and clutched the phone as if it were a lifeline. Brandon reached out and placed a hand on her arm. When she tried to shake him off, he simply wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. “Stop,” she said. “You can’t help me. Not with this.”

  “Who are you talking to?” the female voice on the other end of the phone line asked.

  “No one. Who are you with, besides Gaya?”

  “It’s just us.”

  “Neither Brokk nor Brutus came with you? What about Killian?”

  “Brokk refused to come with us, and Brutus refused to let us go. So we waited until he was out fishing. And Killian can rot on the bottom of the ocean floor, for all I care. He’s a horrible person, Prim. I cannot believe you left us alone with him.”

  “What happened?”

  “He tried–he tried—” The girl on the other end pitched her voice so low, Brandon almost couldn’t hear her next words. “He crawled into bed with me. And Gaya says he’s been sharing her bed. What sort of man shares a bed with two women at the same time?”

  Brandon felt a wave of fury toward Killian. He didn’t even know the girl on the line, but it was abundantly clear she hadn’t been interested in the Fate’s advances. He felt the shudder rush through Prim’s system, and he squeezed her tighter, trying to let her know he shared her pain, her anger.

  “Killian tried to sleep with you? That bastard Fate,” she fumed. “How dare he?”

  “He said I was too good for ‘those idiot animals.’ And he thought I ought to have a real man first.”

  Prim snorted. “If Killian thinks he’s a real man . . .” Her gaze lifted and she caught Brando
n’s eye for a few seconds before she turned away again.

  “Gaya walked in on it,” the girl went on to explain. “And you should have seen her, Prim. She went crazy on him. I didn’t know she had it in her. She zapped him with some pretty nifty spells. She said he wouldn’t be able to take advantage of another woman for a decade at least. I told her she needed to teach me that spell. I bet it will come in handy someday.”

  “Er, well, hopefully you’ll never have need for something like that,” Prim hedged.

  “So, where are you?” the girl asked, quickly changing subjects. “Are you here? This place is so cool. I want to go explore!”

  “No,” Prim yelped. “Don’t you dare. You are in grave danger, Lily. And without a Fate to protect you . . . Let me speak to Gaya.”

  A moment later, the brownie was on the phone. Gaya explained where she and Lily were located, and Prim gave her instructions about finding and checking into a hotel.

  When she disconnected the call, Brandon immediately asked, “Who’s Lily?”

  Prim sighed. “I have a situation.”

  “You mean we have a situation.” When she frowned and tried to pull out of his arms, he said, “Don’t close me out now, Prim. I’m not going to let you.”

  “You don’t exactly have a lot of say in that.”

  He stepped closer, crowding her, trying to intimidate her. She frowned up at him. He bent his head, tilting it just so, as if he intended to kiss her. He felt her heart rate quicken, saw her eyes dilate. Her back stiffened. Her nipples peaked. He got a whiff of her arousal that was almost his undoing.

  “I have a Chala,” she blurted.

  Brandon froze, a hairsbreadth away from claiming her lips. “You aren’t referring to Sydney, are you?”

  “N-No.”

  Brandon sighed and straightened. “I didn’t think so.” He met her gaze. “Let me guess. Lily?”

  Chapter 9

  Brandon was angry. Prim could tell, without him saying it in so many words. It was obvious by his demeanor, but more so, she could . . . feel it. Fates and their Chala sometimes developed such a connection, and a Chala and her mate often did. Gavin and Sydney’s connection was so deep they could sense one another from great distances, which, given their current situation, wasn’t good.

  She had no idea how she and Brandon had developed such a connection, or why. Unless . . . unless he was meant to mate with her Chala. She thought about Lily: pretty and feisty, with long, dark hair, big, brown eyes, and an attractive hourglass figure. 170 years old, she was as book smart as any human, shifter, or Fate, and as innocent as the day was long.

  Prim had purposely raised her that way, figuring it would be easier to keep her tucked away on the island. If she didn’t understand the intricacies of humanity, the horrors of the world, the realities of relationships with the opposite sex, Prim had hoped she would never feel the urge to want to leave. If she didn’t know what she was missing, she wouldn’t miss it. The problem with this scenario, of course, was that she also had no earthly idea what sort of danger she was in by leaving the island. Especially on her own, with only Gaya as protection. Gaya, who loved a good time more than anyone else Prim knew. She nearly groaned, and gripped the armrest of the airplane seat as fear washed over her again. Gaya was tough, for a little thing, but she was no match for a shifter, and Rakshasa often traveled in pairs or more. If they accidentally stumbled upon a Rakshasa . . . She firmly shook her head, refusing to even consider it.

  “She isn’t going to die.” Brandon spoke to her, finally. Other than to bark orders about their planned departure earlier in the day, he’d been unusually quiet. Too quiet. That, combined with the intense feeling in her chest, told her he was furious.

  She wanted to ask him why he was so angry, but she was afraid of the answer. She had lied. She’d been lying for 170 years, but especially in the last few months, when Sydney fell in love with Gavin, and Prim informed her she had to choose between her mate and her pack because she was the very last Chala on earth.

  But she wasn’t. Lily was alive and well, and primed to be mated, if only Prim had the strength to give her up. To give her up meant to turn her safety over to another, and Prim wasn’t sure she had enough of her own strength to do it. Lily was her last chance, the entire world’s last chance. What if she died?

  Worse than that, Prim had, as usual, become overly attached to her Chala. She’d raised Lily almost from birth out on that island. Highly unusual, certainly, but it had kept her safe and under the Rakshasa’ radar, which had been Prim’s intention. Unfortunately, she was more like a daughter than any of Prim’s other Chala, and she’d grieved each of them as if they were her children. How would she ever let this one go?

  She cast Brandon a look from under her lashes. He was such a handsome shifter. So different from the others in her previous experience. He radiated confidence and virility. Sure, he cussed too much, but that was a minor annoyance, really. He was as overprotective as Prim, as strong as Gavin, and he kissed as if he’d invented the art himself. She imagined if his kisses were that good, well . . . Her face heated as she considered what might naturally come next, if she and Brandon had a little time alone together.

  No. Not me and Brandon. Lily and Brandon. Brandon was a Light One, one of the strongest she’d met. If anyone could protect her Chala, it was Brandon . . .

  “Have you ever considered mating with a Chala?” she abruptly asked.

  Brandon gave her a curious look. “I’ve only ever met one Chala, and she was already hooked up with Gavin when I met her.”

  “Yes, but as a Light One, isn’t it, you know, part of your genes? The desire to mate with a Chala?”

  He shrugged. “Never thought much about it. Didn’t think it would ever be a possibility.”

  “All Light Ones have the hope,” Prim insisted. “Look at how they flocked to Sydney when they discovered her existence. One Chala, hundreds of shifters, and yet, every single one hopes he’ll be the one.”

  “What’s your point, Prim?”

  She turned her head and looked out the window. Brandon had insisted upon sitting next to her, despite the fact that he hadn’t been speaking to her at the time. And then he’d given her the window seat, ostentatiously because he needed the aisle to stretch out his long legs. But Prim suspected he heard her comment about always preferring to sit next to the window. He was so considerate, especially when he put forth the effort, which, at some point along the way, he had made the decision to do.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she blurted, needing to put it out there. She was tired of the silence, tired of the wave of anger pushing at her. She liked the friendship she and Brandon had developed. She missed it when it wasn’t there.

  They’d caught a commercial flight from Detroit to New Orleans, but they hadn’t been able to get four seats together. Sydney and William were seated up in first class, while Prim and Brandon were seated toward the back of the plane. Brandon hadn’t liked being so far away from the Chala, yet he’d chosen to sit next to Prim instead of Sydney. She wondered at his decision, but she didn’t question it. She wanted him to sit next to her, she realized.

  He deliberately turned in his seat, as much as he could, so that he faced her. His scowl did nothing to detract from his rugged handsomeness. She wanted to ask how often he shaved, because there always seemed to be scruff on his face, but it never really grew longer. She wondered if it was soft, but she didn’t dare touch him when he was so obviously upset with her. Or maybe she should touch him . . . Maybe it would help him get over whatever was wrong.

  “Why the hell did you just do that?”

  “What?”

  “Touch my face.”

  Prim looked at her hand, cupping his cheek. “I just wondered if it was soft,” she admitted.

  Brandon stared at her. “Well?”


  “Well what?”

  “Is it soft?”

  “Very.” Prim curled her fingers and scraped them along his jaw. A muscle twitched there, and his eyes began to glow.

  “Careful,” she warned. “You don’t want the humans to see your eyes like that.”

  “You’re the one who needs to be careful here. I’m just reacting to you.”

  Prim smiled. “Flattery works on us high-maintenance girls, you know.”

  “Are you flirting with me?”

  Prim blinked in a bemused way. “I suppose I am.” She shouldn’t be. She should be telling him about Lily, listing the Chala’s positive traits, preparing him to meet her for the first time.

  “You lied to me. You lied to all of us. And your version of making it up to me is to flirt with me? I suppose if I told you I’d forgive you if you fucked me, you’d do that too, huh?”

  Prim was taken aback by his snarky comment. “I . . . I . . .”

  Brandon shoved her hand away and then pushed out of his seat and stalked down the aisle.

  “Don’t you walk away from me,” Prim called after him. When he didn’t turn around, she struggled with her seatbelt for a moment and then lurched after him. It wasn’t a long walk. They were only seated three rows from the restrooms at the very back of the plane. Brandon tugged open the door to the restroom on the left and Prim grabbed it before he could pull it closed. He gave her an annoyed look.

  “Do you mind?”

  “Yes,” she said as she twisted her body between the open door and the restroom across the narrow hall.

  “You gonna hold it for me?” he sneered.

  “You don’t have to go. You’re just using this as an excuse to get away from me.”