by Tami Lund
“Why, Chala, are you ready to die already?” He released Brandon and grabbed her instead, pulling her off his back as if she were a ragdoll and flinging her across the room. She landed with a smack against the far wall, crying out in pain as she slid to the floor in a crumpled heap.
Gavin winced and shook his head as if he meant to clear it. “Damn, that felt painful. You still alive, Chala? Or can I focus on this new one now?” He looked at Lily with glowing black eyes. She shrank behind Prim. Brandon shifted into human form and body slammed Gavin to the floor.
“You just hurt your mate, asshole.” He snarled like an animal as he punctuated each word with a punch to the face, to the gut, to the face again, to the kidney. Gavin grunted and blocked the blows, but Brandon was too angry and too fast, and Gavin couldn’t get in a lick of his own.
“Leave her the fuck alone.” Brandon continued to snarl and continued to punch Gavin. “Let us fucking curse you so she can have you back.”
Gavin finally managed to throw him off. “Not a chance.” He limped as quickly as he could toward the balcony. As they all turned to watch, he flung himself over the railing. Prim rushed to the balcony door in time to see him drop to the sidewalk below. He crouched for a moment, clearly dazed, and then darted his glowing gaze around the vicinity for a moment before shifting into an animal and running away into the night.
Freddie still screamed in agony and the rest of the household was finally coming awake. Butch, who’d snored through the scuffles, rubbed his eyes and looked around. “Whasamatter with him?” he slurred, his voice thick with sleep.
“He’s–He’s–He’s—” Prim struggled with an explanation as to why the man’s friend would be scratching himself bloody and screaming in pain. If they didn’t shut him up soon, the human authorities would no doubt appear on the scene.
“Voodoo magic,” William said, rushing into the room wearing a bright pink robe and matching slippers. Prim felt a brief moment of relief at his words. Many humans who lived in New Orleans believed at least somewhat in the idea of voodoo magic. Butch was apparently no exception, as he nodded his head dumbly.
William leaned over, grabbed Freddie under the armpits, and dragged him down the hall toward the far bedroom. “You handle the wounded in there,” he said to Prim. “I’ll fix this.” And then he dragged Freddie into the bedroom and closed the door. His screams could still be heard through the closed door, but only for a moment. She could faintly hear the sound of chanting–William, she assumed, speaking the counter-curse—and then the room fell blessedly silent.
Prim looked around, trying to figure out where to start. Her gaze fell onto Butch, and she pointed at the door to Freddie’s bedroom. “Why don’t you go to sleep in there?” she suggested, using a bit of enthrallment to encourage him. Butch dutifully did as she bade him. Gaya would no doubt keep him occupied if he did not simply lie down and go back to sleep.
She started toward Brandon, who was slumped in a chair, his hand clutching a bleeding wound on his side. He waved her off. “Make sure Sydney’s okay first.” She fought against her impulse to help him and turned instead to tend to the unconscious Chala.
After ensuring Sydney was indeed alive and cauterizing Lily’s wound, Prim was utterly exhausted. Dawn was seeping over the horizon, and with it came a wave of humidity indicative of impending rain. Brandon had disappeared into the bathroom, she assumed, to see to his wounds himself. She wanted nothing more than to lie down on the bed next to the two once again sleeping Chala.
But Brandon needed her. She could feel it. Wearily, she walked over and closed and locked the French doors leading out to the balcony. The doors wouldn’t stop a determined Gavin, but the noise he would make opening them would be enough warning of his presence. She only hoped he did not make another appearance until after they were all recovered enough to fight him off again.
Then she headed down the hall to the bathroom. She pushed open the door and found Brandon slumped on the toilet seat, asleep. At least she hoped he was asleep. Her heart lodged in her throat as she hurried over and touched his throat with her fingers. He surged awake and grabbed her wrist.
“It’s me. Prim.”
He blew out a breath, released his hold on her wrist, then groaned and slumped forward again. “Thank the Fates. I’m not sure I can fight him off again right now.”
His T-shirt was torn to shreds. Deep wounds covered his back. There were bite marks on his neck. A long gash ran from his knee to his ankle, and blood poured freely from it and pooled on the floor at his feet.
“Oh Fates,” Prim whispered, and then she felt a surge of adrenaline, spurred by the need to take care of him. “Come on, Brandon. Let’s get you into the tub.”
He grunted when she slid her arm under his armpits and struggled to move him from the toilet seat to the tub.
“Prim, honey, I love having sex with you, even if we always seem to do it in the bathroom. But I just can’t right now. I’m sorry, baby.”
She rolled her eyes and used her weight to push him the rest of the way into the tub. “Don’t apologize, Brandon. You saved our lives out there. I screwed up again, and if it wasn’t for you, we’d all be dead.” Well, all the non-Fates would be dead, anyway.
The Fates would be left to mourn them, and Prim would be one step closer to spiraling over the edge of insanity, and would thus be unable to do her job any longer. Of course, if Sydney and Lily both died, there would no longer be a job for Prim to do, so maybe it would be best if she went insane instead of living for the rest of eternity with the guilt.
“Didn’t screw up,” Brandon slurred. “Just missed. Curse worked. Did you see that human?”
Yes, she had seen him. And she felt a fresh wave of guilt for making him go through that agony. Humans’ brains were not strong enough to handle magical curses. Especially one of the magnitude she’d used tonight.
“We have to get these clothes off you, Brandon.” She struggled to pull his ruined shirt over his head. “I hate to do this to you, but I think it’s best if we cleanse these wounds before I heal you. It’s going to hurt,” she warned him.
“Damn,” he muttered, allowing her to undress him. “And here I thought you wanted me.”
“I do want you,” Prim said, pausing a beat before adding, “healed.”
“I want you, too,” Brandon replied, obviously not hearing the last word. “It’s weird. I used to think I hated you. Now I think I lo—” Prim gave his jeans an unnecessary jerk, and he hissed in pain.
“Whatever you think you feel for me, Brandon, it isn’t real.” She managed to finally peel off his blood-soaked boxer shorts. His body was torn to shreds, and it still made her insides warm to look at him. It was the first time she’d seen him completely naked, she realized. She’d had sex with him twice, and now she was looking at his naked body from the perspective of a healer, not as a potential lover.
What a shame.
Brandon was shocky, in pain, and exhausted. There was no way he could stand by himself in the shower, and Prim didn’t trust herself to climb in there with him. He was in no condition to act on the obvious physical attraction between them, and Prim was afraid she’d become the wanton harlot he was always able to turn her into and not give him the option. Death by sex with a lust-crazed Fate. Probably not the best way to go. Besides, Brandon was their only protector for the moment. And Lily needed a mate. He couldn’t die.
She settled for allowing him to lie in the tub while she gave him a sponge bath. Despite his many wounds and all the pain, his body reacted to her touch, and Prim was able to see how truly . . . impressive he was. No wonder she’d been a little sore after their tryst earlier in the evening. The term ‘hung like a horse’ came to mind, and she wondered how in the world any other man had ever managed to pleasure her before. And she wondered how in the world she’d ever find pleasure again after she pushed
him into Lily’s arms.
Her lucky Chala.
The pain was apparently too much for Brandon, and he passed out part way through the bath. Which was just as well. His erection deflated, making it marginally easier for her to concentrate. And with his mind shut down, she could push the healing magic through his system far more quickly than if he’d been lucid and his mind had instinctively fought against the mental intrusion.
By the time his eyes fluttered open again, he was mostly healed. All he needed was a solid twelve hours of sleep, and he’d be good as new.
“Can’t do it,” he said, grimacing and using the wall to support him as he climbed to his feet in the tub. Blood-tinged water swirled around the drain when he flipped it open. Prim handed him a towel, and he quickly rubbed it over his body. “Where are my clothes?”
She disappeared from the bathroom and returned with his duffle bag.
“Thanks,” he said, pawing through the contents. He pulled on a fresh pair of boxer shorts, another pair of jeans, and yet another T-shirt, this one a pale blue that matched his eyes. Prim wondered if he owned anything but jeans and T-shirts, but then she decided he looked so damn good in that uniform, it didn’t matter.
“He knows where we are. We have to get the hell out of here. How long was I out of it?”
“Just a couple hours.”
“Shit,” he said, once again back in control. “It’s time to move. Wake everyone up. We need to get this place cleaned up, make sure the humans are still clueless, and then get on the road. I want to get back to the pack. I can’t take many more of those beatings. I need help if we’re going to get a hold of him long enough for you to curse him.”
As the fear rushed through her system, he reached out and cupped the back of her neck, massaging gently. “You can do this, Prim. I know you can. And when this is all over, and he’s back to normal, we’ll go back to your island. Just you and I. We’ll run around naked all day, and have sex in every room in the house. How does that sound?”
Heavenly. But she knew she wouldn’t be the one who got to run around naked with him. Lily was the one he’d be taking to the island. With any luck, when they returned to the mainland, Lily would be pregnant with her first child. And Prim would be gone from their lives forever.
It took them three precious hours to wake everyone and clean up any indications of a supernatural fight inside the apartment. William doused Freddie with a strong sleeping spell, which he said ought to keep the human out for at least a day or so. It should be long enough for any remnants of the curse to work its way out of his system. He was confident the human would not recall anything that happened, as his brain would refuse to deal with it, which was what occurred when most humans were faced with something so impossible to believe. If he did, no one would believe him anyway, and he would undoubtedly soon convince himself he’d either been drunk or under the influence of some sort of mind-altering drug.
Gaya cleaned up the blood in the bathroom while the two Chala straightened the living room. Brandon refused to lie down while everyone else worked, and since Prim refused to let him help clean, he set himself to making breakfast instead. It was heavy on protein and meat products.
Finally, they were ready to go. After thanking Freddie’s roommates for their hospitality, the six non-humans piled into a rental car, and soon they were on the freeway heading north. William drove because he was by far the most lucid of all of them, and Brandon finally gave in to the inevitable and snoozed in the passenger seat. Gaya, who was the smallest, was perched in the middle of the front seat, and Prim smartly smacked her hand once, when she saw it creeping across Brandon’s thigh.
Despite Brandon’s complaints, they stopped in northwest Louisiana in a city called Shreveport, a few hours south of their destination. The only way they were able to convince him they needed a break was by William guiding the vehicle into the parking lot of a local steak restaurant.
“Hurry up and eat,” Brandon muttered in-between bites of rare steak. “I want to get back on the road. I can’t relax until Sydney and Lily are surrounded by well-trained Light Ones.”
Prim was torn about his sentiment. Gavin cut Lily during the scuffle, and a Chala’s scent was released when her blood was spilled for the first time by a shifter. For most Chala, this happened naturally when they were children, since most lived within a pack of shifters.
But for Sydney and Lily, neither had lived a conventional shifter life, so neither had been exposed until Gavin did it for them. He’d been cursed and had saved Sydney from another Rakshasa when she’d been cut for the first time. The result was that Light Ones from all over the country, and even further in some cases, had found their way to Sydney’s side, subsequently forming the pack that Gavin had led until Killian took away his curse.
Now she’d have to deal with the same thing with Lily. Except Lily did not have a mate who already claimed her, which meant the pack was about to become as antsy as a pack did when a female in heat was thrown into the mix. Lily wasn’t technically in heat, but the scent of an unmated Chala was equally as euphoric for male shifters.
“Damn Killian,” Prim muttered under her breath, as they once again piled into the car and headed north, this time with Brandon at the wheel. If Killian hadn’t decided to practice that stupid counter-curse, none of this would have happened. Prim, Lily, and Gaya would be safely ensconced on her island with the rest of the world oblivious to Lily’s existence. Sydney and Gavin would still be blissfully happy together. And Brandon would be leading Gavin’s pack on their next Rakshasa attack.
And you never would have experienced the best sex of your life, Prim. Unfortunately, she was having a difficult time regretting that particular aspect.
Chapter 11
Much to Prim’s dismay, chaos reigned when they arrived at Killian’s house.
The pack was in disarray. Without a leader present, they hadn’t practiced regularly, hadn’t eaten formal meals, and hadn’t cleaned the house. A small faction had up and left, claiming they had no reason to stay any longer if there wasn’t a purpose to their lives.
Quentin had tried to keep them together, but he wasn’t as strong a leader as Gavin or Brandon or Sydney, and what little control he maintained had been fast unraveling.
Killian’s presence only added fuel to the fire. He had arrived the day before Prim and Brandon and the rest, and he hadn’t been at all happy to have a bunch of shifters still occupying his home. He bitched and moaned so much that another few left, claiming they’d rather sleep on the streets than spend another minute listening to the blustery, complaining Fate.
The pack’s relief at having them back, even if it was without Gavin, lasted only long enough for them to get a whiff of Lily’s Chala scent. Just as Prim predicted, they were reduced to a pack of wild dogs, strutting and panting and acting downright crude as they all clamored for Lily’s attention.
The Chala appeared flattered by the attention, but showed no distinct preference for any single shifter. Nor did she seem to comprehend that their attentions were sexual in nature, or if she did, she certainly was not returning their affections. She thanked them for their compliments and then followed Sydney around, helping to attempt to restore order to the pack. While Prim was a mother figure, Sydney was a confidant, another Chala, just like Lily, in a world in which there were so few. Prim wasn’t surprised the two women bonded so quickly.
Prim made a pitiful attempt to get Brandon to rest after the initial excitement died down, but he wouldn’t hear of it, and she couldn’t really blame him. He was a natural leader, and he needed to restore order before he could relax. She left him to his tasks, as he barked orders to all the remaining shifters to meet him out on the practice field in ten minutes’ time.
William was in the kitchen, pawing through the shelves and scribbling on a piece of paper on the counter. Shortly after their arrival,
he and Quentin had gotten into a heated argument that had ended with Quentin storming from the house. Apparently, the two of them had been dating, and Quentin had figured out just how much William had enjoyed himself in New Orleans. Prim wasn’t surprised to see an open bottle of wine on the counter when she walked into the room.
William nudged his wineglass toward her, and she took a grateful sip. “You and a shifter?” she asked, arching one brow.
He shrugged and turned his focus to the bare cupboard in front of him. “It’s better than the human I had been crushing on before I met him. At least Light Ones are immortal.”
“So why did you fool around down in New Orleans, if you knew you had someone waiting here for you?”
He sighed and snagged the glass back from her, draining the contents, and then refilling it before handing it back. “I adore Quentin. I really do. I just . . . Well, you know how it is. Fates often have a difficult time maintaining relationships. As much as I hated having to pretend I was straight when I was human, I still loved my daughter, and even my wife. She was far more forgiving than most were in that day and age, and we learned how to live comfortably together. She had become one of my best friends. When I died and became a Fate and was forbidden from ever seeing them again, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. And each time I lost a Chala . . . I suppose I may have, on a subconscious level, deliberately sabotaged whatever I had going with Quentin, thinking it would be easier than possibly losing him one day.”
Prim considered his confession. She sympathized more than he would ever know. Heck, she and Brandon shared some sort of emotional bond, yet she was determined to mate him to her Chala. She had always understood that being a Fate was one of the hardest jobs in the world—made worse by the fact that one didn’t have a choice in the decision to take on the position—yet recently, the career path had taken on a whole new level of difficulty.
