by Lund, Tami
“Do you approve?” Gavin asked the Fate. He wasn’t sure he particularly cared about the Fate’s opinion, but William cared about Sydney, and Gavin figured the Fate would sleep better at night if he knew Sydney was left in capable hands.
William watched the snowball fight for a few minutes. “He isn’t you,” he said after a while.
Gavin shrugged, feigning indifference.
“What will you do? When you let her go?”
Drown myself in a pool of misery. The thought was so ridiculously poetic, he almost laughed.
“There’s a girl, down in Detroit. I’ll probably let her help me forget, for a while. Then . . . who knows?”
“You think you can ever forget?”
“You think I have a choice?”
Before William could respond, if he intended to at all, Sydney rushed up to them, with Brandon walking sedately behind her, a slight smile on his lips. It wasn’t a cocky smile. It was just an “I’m in a good place” smile.
It occurred to him that Brandon was better for Sydney than he was in a lot of ways. He had a lot of baggage, in the form of his curse that would never go away, no matter how many centuries he and Sydney got to spend together. As far as he could tell, Brandon didn’t have a single ounce of baggage.
Laughing, Sydney wrapped her arms around Gavin’s waist and swung herself back and forth, lifting her face to the sky and closing her eyes, a look of almost pure, utter bliss on her face. She was so freaking beautiful, it took Gavin’s breath away. He blinked and realized both William and Brandon were watching him intently. He cleared his throat and dislodged Sydney’s arms from around his body.
“Hey, what do y’all think about heading over to that bar, over near the interstate? We could use a break, don’t you think, boss?” Brandon’s gaze flicked to Sydney and then settled on Gavin, almost as if he couldn’t decide which one of them was the boss.
Gavin had begun to notice that a lot lately. The more involved she became in practice and training and strategy-planning, the more the rest of the group looked to her for leadership. Gavin suspected that if he did die, they would all simply turn to Sydney and wait for her to dictate the next move.
Before Gavin could give his assent, Sydney said, “Let’s ask if anyone else wants to go.”
Inspiration struck at that moment. “No,” Gavin said. “Let’s just go. Just us. You, me, Brandon, and the Fate here. Don’t you get tired of having everyone else around, all the time?”
If she wondered why he included Brandon in their small group, she didn’t mention it. Probably, she figured it was because he was standing there at the time, and it had been his idea, after all.
They piled into Brandon’s extended cab pickup truck and headed into town. Sydney sat up front with Brandon, and Gavin felt a twinge of annoyance when she dropped her arm over the back of the seat and groped around for his hand to hold. She was supposed to be getting closer to Brandon, not displaying her affection for Gavin. He glared at the Fate when William covered a laugh with a fake cough. He was getting too damn much enjoyment out of this.
The bar was a squat, rectangular building surrounded by asphalt and aging pickup trucks. A neon sign flashed, advertising a specific brand of beer, and the beginning strains of “Free Bird” could be heard drifting through the closed entrance door. Brandon’s truck was the youngest in the lot.
“I remember coming here for ice cream in the summer, when I was a teenager,” Sydney said, turning to William and smiling. She climbed out of the truck and paused, frowning.
“What is it?” Gavin was at her side in an instant.
“I don’t know. A weird sensation. Like when I met you, and when that Rakshasa attacked me, down in Detroit.”
Gavin positioned himself in front of her and immediately scanned the surrounding area. Had the Rakshasa finally found them? They were almost completely helpless out here at this tiny bar, with the rest of their crew five miles away and oblivious to the situation.
Brandon pointed at a cluster of old oak trees in the distance. “There’s a scout right there, watching us. One of our own. He would have warned us if something wasn’t right. I’m sure it’s his presence you’re feeling.”
Sydney stared at the cluster of trees for a few moments.
“Do you want to go back?”
She shook her head. “No. Brandon’s right, I’m sure. Come on, let’s go inside. We need this, just to relax and turn it all off for a little while.”
They headed inside. It was still early on a Thursday afternoon, so there were only a handful of patrons sitting at the bar and clustered around small tables near a chipped vinyl dance floor. A large mirror, etched with the word ‘Budweiser,’ hung over the bar. The standard array of liquor bottles lined the shelf under the mirror. A twenty-something woman with tattoos on her arms and a ring in her nose tended bar. Another young woman cocktailed the few tables containing patrons.
“Not the bar. I don’t like to have my back to the door,” Gavin stated when Brandon started walking that way.
“Over there, then,” Brandon suggested, pointing at a four-top table situated in a windowless corner, far from the door. The restrooms were on the opposite end of the room, down a short hallway next to the bar.
“I’m going to go feed the jukebox, find some better music,” William said as he wrinkled his nose.
Sydney laughed. “I’ll go with you to make sure you don’t embarrass us too much with your taste in music.” As they crossed the dance floor they argued over which artist and song was better.
Brandon and Gavin claimed the four-top. The bartender hung over the end of the bar, asked for their orders. Gavin ordered wine for Sydney and William, a shot of Jack, neat, for himself. Brandon ordered a beer, drawled that the bartender knew what he liked. She smiled the sort of smile that indicated yes, she knew precisely what he liked.
Now or never, Gavin decided. He didn’t think Brandon held any feelings for the human bartender, but just in case, he wanted to nip that relationship in the bud. And tear out his own heart in the process.
“I want you to mate with her,” Gavin blurted before he lost his nerve. The words felt like glass, scraping his throat as he said them.
Brandon gave him a blank look. “Who?”
“Sydney.”
The blank look morphed into confusion. “The Chala?”
“Yeah, but I recommend you not call her that, at least not to her face. She doesn’t appreciate it the way you and I do.”
“What the hell are you getting at, Gavin?” Confusion morphed into anger. Why was he angry? Wasn’t it every Light One’s dream to mate with a Chala?
The bartender placed their drinks on the end of the bar. Gavin stood and transferred them to the table and waited for her to walk far enough away that she could not overhear their conversation. A quick glance told him Sydney and William still stood near the jukebox. William’s flapping arms indicated they were arguing over the playlist. Good. He clearly needed a little time to persuade Brandon.
Which was weird. Why did Gavin need to persuade him?
“You can’t tell me you don’t wish to mate with a Chala? You are a Light One, aren’t you?” Of course he was. Gavin’s senses didn’t lie.
“Yes, I’m a Light One, and no, I don’t want to mate with the Chala.”
Gavin stared at him. “I thought the urge to mate with a Chala was inbred or some shit. I’m not even a real Light One and I felt the urge when I met her.”
Brandon gave him a funny look. He picked up his beer and took a swig. “I thought you and the Chala were . . . you know.”
Gavin turned away from his companion and watched Sydney and William, still standing in front of the jukebox, still arguing over which songs to play. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, a golden cloud around her head. Her cheeks were still fl
ushed from the chill air outside. She wore a red wool pea coat—a gift from him, since he’d ruined her Pillsbury Doughboy coat—and a simple V-neck shirt with a pair of gray yoga pants. She wasn’t even trying and she was beautiful.
“We were.” He choked on the words. “We are. We . . . can’t.”
“Can’t?”
Gavin shook his head and did not take his gaze off the love of his life. How quickly he had fallen. How devastated he would be when she left him to mate with Brandon.
“Regardless of this curse, I am still Rakshasa. And Rakshasa cannot mate with Chala.”
“You can’t mate with her?”
Gavin sipped his drink and shook his head.
“Does she know this?”
“No.”
“If Chala and Rakshasa can’t mate . . .”
“She might be the last Chala on earth.” His voice cracked. “I can’t let down the Light Ones like that.”
“You love her,” Brandon said as if he were shocked by the revelation, as if he had not guessed it until that moment.
“What did you think? Why else would I be here, hiding her, protecting her? Surrounded on all sides by Light Ones. Training you all so you can defend her against my kind.”
“And now you want to give her to me? She doesn’t strike me as the type to appreciate being given away, like a prize.”
Gavin lifted one corner of his mouth in a sardonic smile. “Not in the least. You would do well to remember that. She doesn’t like to believe she is the last hope of her kind, of your kind. She refuses to do as she’s told. She is as stubborn as the day is long.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a catch.”
Gavin chuckled. “She is also the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. She is loyal and loving and sincere and honest and passionate as well. You could not choose a better mate.”
Brandon gave the Chala a dubious look. “I’m not sure we see her in quite the same light.”
“I don’t get it. Every other Light One who has shown up on our doorstep fawns over her as if she was a goddess. You are the only one who seems . . . Immune, I guess is the best word. Why is that?”
Brandon raked one hand through his hair while he used the other to lift the beer bottle to his lips. He seemed agitated. Gavin’s senses suddenly went into suspicious mode. He narrowed his eyes and studied the Light One. With his dark-blond hair and pale, pale eyes, the sharp line of muscle underneath his thin sweater, the well-groomed almost-beard on his face, he was the sort of male women of any species would find attractive. While Gavin wasn’t exactly an expert on the attractiveness of the male sex, he suspected Brandon was the best-looking of the bunch of shifters who had joined their cause. With a little bit of effort, he could easily have been the front-runner in the bid to win the place of honor in Sydney’s bed.
“Some things happened,” Brandon’s voice was stilted. “When I was a baby. Too young. Left a bitter taste in my mouth. I’m not interested in mating to a Chala or anyone, but especially a Chala.”
Gavin leaned forward. Something in what he said . . . “What happened?”
Brandon’s gaze darted to the jukebox, to the bar, back to Gavin, and then slid away again. “Shit. You really do love her, don’t you? You love her so much you’re willing to give her up in order to save my kind. Fuck.” He swore viciously and swiped his hand to the side, sending the half-empty beer bottle skittering across the table. It slammed into the wall and shattered, spraying both of them with beer and glass.
“What the—” Gavin did not get to finish the sentence. Several things happened at once. Brandon shouted at the bartender to, “Get the hell out of here.” Then he leaped from his seat and ran across the bar toward the jukebox, where Sydney and William had stopped arguing and were staring at Gavin with wide eyes.
He saw Sydney’s mouth form the word, “No!” She started as if she meant to run toward Gavin. Brandon caught her around the waist and kept her from doing so. Sydney began screaming his name.
At the same time, a door he hadn’t even realized was there opened and a wave of beings poured through. Rakshasa.
“Son of a—” Gavin leaped to his feet and prepared to fight. To the death, if need be.
At least he knew Sydney was in good hands.
Chapter 10
“Gavin,” Sydney screamed as she fought against the steel bands of Brandon’s arms. “Gavin!” She clawed and kicked and shrieked.
Gavin was being attacked. So many Rakshasa, she couldn’t even count. They were moving so fast, she could hardly keep track of him in the melee.
“I’ll go help,” William announced in a surprisingly valiant move. He stabbed his finger at Brandon. “Protect her,” he commanded. “With your life.”
“No,” Sydney cried as William tottered off across the dance floor, trying not to stumble in his high-heeled boots. She struggled to turn around in Brandon’s arm, so she could grab the front of his shirt and look him in the face. “They’re attacking Gavin. Why are they attacking Gavin? Shouldn’t they be attacking me?”
“Yes,” Brandon said, his face grim. “That’s why I need to get you to safety, before they realize you’re here.”
She continued to fight him as he dragged her toward the door. She was lucid enough to realize all the humans who had been in the bar when they arrived were now gone. The only beings in the bar were her, Brandon, William, Gavin, and the wave of Rakshasa surrounding Gavin and William, who stood back to back, fending them off as they attacked.
“Why are they attacking Gavin?” she asked again. It didn’t make any sense, unless someone had failed to tell her something about her existence, the existence of the Rakshasa, and the Light Ones. As far as she understood this world that was still so foreign, they should be attacking her right now.
Brandon continued to drag her toward the door, even as she fought his progress. She had to get to Gavin. She had to help him.
“It’s a trap, Sydney. They’re here for Gavin, but you’d be one hell of a bonus prize, and I’m not about to give you to them.”
She dug in her heels, keeping him from pushing her out the door. “I’m not leaving until you explain. Tell me, Brandon,” she demanded when he did not immediately respond.
Brandon’s gaze shifted to the left, toward the bar area. “They’re getting paid a hefty sum of money to eliminate him. That’s all I can tell you. Now come on, before they pick up your scent.” He took another step toward the door.
She watched as a chair was lifted and smashed against someone’s back. A beer bottle cracked against a head, and then another and another until it shattered. Fists flew, legs kicked, bodies shifted and moved, grunting and shouting and crying out in pain.
“Gavin!” She renewed her attempt to break free of Brandon’s grasp so she could rush across the room to help. Brandon tightened his hold around her waist.
“No. Goddamn it, Sydney, listen to me. You can’t go over there. Do you hear me? Are you listening to me?” She shook her head, refusing to listen. He finally resorted to slapping her.
She shook her head and glared at him. “Let me go this instant, Brandon. Gavin and William are outnumbered. I have to go help.”
“William’s a Fate, so if he dies, he just regenerates and comes back. And Gavin can take care of himself. You can’t.”
“Want to bet?” Sydney focused on his hands, the way Hilde taught her to. Of their own accord, Brandon’s arms suddenly flung away from her waist. He gave her an incredulous look just as she turned and bolted toward the bar.
There are too many of them. Gavin was acutely aware of this, as he stood back to back with William, battling wave after wave of Rakshasa. They just kept coming. Too damn many.
He’d been combating the Rakshasa who lived in the Detroit area long enough to know this was far too many s
hifters. In fact, by his calculations, he would have guessed there were no more than half a dozen left in the entirety of Detroit. He was having a hard time keeping count, but he’d definitely counted more than six. More like thirty-six, at least.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. “Duck!” he yelled at William, who instinctively followed his command. Gavin kicked out his leg and caught the attacking Rakshasa in the gut, sending him sprawling back from where he came.
“Thanks,” William said as he straightened and began swinging again. “But you know I can’t really die, right?”
Gavin blocked a punch and delivered one of his own. “Yeah, I know. But right now, you’re more help protecting my back than going off to wherever the hell you Fates go when your bodies are destroyed. Plus, Sydney would kick my ass if she knew I didn’t try to save you.”
William stopped speaking long enough to take out a nearby shifter. “I think you’re wrong, Gavin.”
“Then you don’t know Sydney very well,” Gavin said as he slammed the heads of two shifters together before kicking a third.
“Not about that, you idiot,” William snapped as he took a punch to the jaw. “About Brandon. I don’t think he’s the right shifter for Sydney.”
“What is this, some kind of Fate intuition? And why the hell are you telling me this now?”
“Because now is when I’ve just realized it.”
“Fine,” Gavin said as he continued to pummel shifters. “You pick her mate. Just make sure you get it right, got it? I swear, I’ll come back to haunt you if you don’t.”
