by Kira Nyte
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing as she examined the scratches and puncture marks on his neck.
“What the fuck does this one want?”
Malla tsked. “Language.”
The human’s eyes widened. With a Keeper in this home, did the idea of hearing thoughts truly surprise him? Perhaps he was unaware of the gem he harbored.
“What has happened to your eye?” Malla asked, drawing on a fluid husk to coax the man into talking. She glanced around the filthy space, noting the sex stains on the sofa she had crowded him against. “And the attack. Who attacked you?”
“Never saw him before,” the human said. “Lady, I need to get to a hospital—”
She held up a hand, silencing him with a faint swirl of purple expelled from her fingertips. “Do not address me as ‘lady.’ I have questions and you seem to have some answers. You have a woman here. Young. Blond. Where is she?”
The man scowled until she thought his teeth would shatter or his lip would curl in on itself. It was a hideous look. “She’s a no-good slut. The freak who threatened to kill me took her.”
Enemy or not, his reference to the woman as a slut hit home. Since women in her world were looked upon as merely procreators and objects for the use of men, this human’s opinion of the Keeper woman struck a sensitive chord.
“I need to see a doctor. That damn bird pecked my eye out.”
“Perhaps you deserved it.”
The man jerked upright, his face darkening with rage. “Bitch—”
Malla’s hand shot out and caught him by the throat. She reinforced her grip with magic, pulling the invisible cords she’d slung around his neck tighter and tighter until his uninjured eye bulged as he choked.
“Such a foul mouth, human.” She leaned in, paralyzing his efforts to fight, and stared deep into his remaining eye. “Show me what you saw.”
She’d heard about how humans saw their lives flash before their eyes in moments of life-or-death stress. She had also learned it was true, and she could steal the memories of humans by bringing them to the brink of death before releasing them back to the living.
She tightened the magical cords and the man’s face flushed a deep maroon. His mouth sputtered open and his tongue protruded as he tried to suck in air.
“Show me what you saw.”
With a small shock of magic, she connected with his memories through his eye. She watched as the events before her arrival unfolded in reverse.
She recognized his attacker immediately. Taryn. The Firestorm dragon who made New Orleans his home.
And the woman from the café. The Keeper.
The crow was a wild card, piquing her curiosity. Was that animal somehow linked to the witch she had yet to locate? Or was it the Keeper’s pet?
What significance did the crow have?
It certainly rushed in to protect the woman from this dark, soulless excuse for a human. His desire to dominate, to control, ignited her anger. When she had witnessed enough to connect Taryn to the woman as a potential lifemate, she should have loosened the binding around the human’s throat.
That she continued to choke him drew curious stares from the two soldiers.
She straightened up, withdrawing her hand but leaving the magical bonds wrapped tight. He couldn’t defend himself beneath the paralysis.
“You enjoy helpless women, do you?” she asked quietly, a cold smile touching her mouth. “How does it feel?” She leaned closer to stare into his one eye. “To be helpless? To know I control your destiny?”
Incoherent sounds escaped his lips, nothing she understood. Fear bubbled in his eye.
She stepped back. “She wouldn’t have been the last. As she wasn’t the first.”
With a twist of her hand, the invisible cord around his neck cinched. An unseen force jerked his head until a snap resounded in the cramped room of the disgusting hovel and the light of life snuffed from his eye. His limbs went slack and his body sank into the sofa.
Blood and fluid pooled on the lower lid of what used to be his right eye.
The soldiers stepped out of Malla’s way with alacrity as she left the filthy place. They trailed her, silent and wary. It wasn’t every day her father’s men witnessed her take a life with no remorse.
And as each day ticked on, she didn’t doubt it wouldn’t be the last.
Chapter Twelve
Gabby had no words for the opulence of Taryn’s house. It was rich down to every last detail. The Grecian columns inside the front entrance. The polished hardwood floors. The gilded mirrors and original oil paintings—Taryn casually slipped in that information as he gave her a brief tour. The kitchen was long and sported quartz and marble and stainless steel, things she had never imagined she’d see up close unless it was in a magazine.
Awe struck her so hard she barely realized how foolish she must have appeared with a slack jaw and wide eyes.
“It was pretty much my first impression as well.”
Gabby jerked around at the strangely familiar female voice. The instant her eyes met those of the beautiful redhead who led an utterly handsome man into the kitchen, she ducked her head, trying to hide whatever bruises Jack left on her face from the strangers.
The woman held out her hand. Gabby looked at slender fingers stained with what might have been paint. “I’m Briella Everett.” She sighed, her smile widening as she turned her hand over and looked ruefully at the paint. “I thought I got most of that off. I’m sorry.”
Gabby caught the woman’s hand before she pulled it away. “Gabriella Metz. You were at the club the other night.” She didn’t even wonder at her choice of Gabriella, Taryn’s preferred name for her, over Gabby.
The man rested a possessive hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I hope Taryn apologized for his poor behavior that night.” He inclined his head. “Syn Terravon.”
Gabby looked at Taryn. “Is he like you?”
“Yes. He’s a brother. By scales.” Taryn chuckled. “Damn man’s too serious for my liking.”
“That’s why you two love each other,” Briella interjected, her eyes flashing with humor. “Don’t be surprised if you see them acting like a bunch of frat boys. They may be a few centuries old, but sometimes I wonder about maturity.”
Gabby’s mind whirled at the couple’s openness. The woman’s warmth was unlike anything she’d been gifted with. Growing up, she never had a chance to make friends, mainly because her mother would threaten to tell anyone who got too close about Gabby’s lewd behavior.
“Think any of those girls would want to hang around you? A little whore? Oh, sure, the boys would love to get your mouth on them, but the girls? You’re wasting your time.”
Warmth prickled up her neck at the harsh memory and the sense of welcome turned cold in her chest. She turned into Taryn, trying to hide her sudden shift in emotions from Briella and Syn.
“Where’s the restroom?” she asked quietly.
Taryn lost his smile. His brow furrowed as he slipped his arm around her shoulders.
“You two going to be around for dinner?” Taryn asked, drawing Gabby close while distracting his friends. “Maybe a trip to the Garden District?”
“Anything as long as you’re not cooking,” Syn said.
“Hey, I’m not Alazar. My talents in the kitchen don’t go far. And neither do yours, brother.”
Gabby listened to the rumble of Taryn’s chuckle as he started them toward the hallway.
“I’m going to finish showing Gabby around the place and help her get settled in.”
“Of course,” Briella said. “I should probably jump in the shower and get this paint off me in the meantime.”
Gabby looked up in time to catch the feral glow in Syn’s eyes as he raked a hot glance over the woman. Taryn’s body blocked her view of the couple as he brought her down the hallway and into a spacious bedroom, closing the door behind them.
She pulled away and let out a sad sigh. “I can’t stay here.”
Taryn’s brow creased de
eper. “And why not?”
“This is way out of my comfort zone. Like I stepped into a different world.” She touched the side of her face with the tips of her fingers, wincing where her skin was tender from being smashed against the table. Her jaw still ached. “I may be this Keeper you mention, but this,” she waved vaguely at the elegant room, “is too much for me.”
Taryn watched her, his gaze as tangible as a security blanket she wanted to pull close and throw off at the same time. She could not let herself get caught up in the hope that all of this might be true. Fate was a bitch. Destiny a liar. Nothing like that existed.
Did she ever hope and dream of having a man look at her, want her, the way Syn evidently wanted Briella?
Oh, God, yes!
But she wasn’t idiot enough to lose herself to flagrant wishes and impossibilities.
“Okay. I understand your concern. I do. Can you agree to stay here a few days? Until things blow over? Until I can be assured of your safety?” Taryn asked.
She pressed her lips together. Restraint coiled in his eyes as calm smoothed over his otherwise sharp features. She sensed his small grin masked an unseen battle within him.
“I promise you. You’re safe here. You’ll have this room. You’ll have whatever you need while you’re here. Companionship, friendship, even family, in a sense. Food. Warmth. Clothing. Comfort. Will you allow me a chance to show you the life you were meant to live, the life you are meant to enjoy? If, in a few days, things have died down and I think it’s safe for you to leave, I’ll let you leave without argument.” He licked his lips, evidence of the difficulty he had making the offer. “I’ll let you leave without protest if you still feel this way.”
“You’re going to try to convince me to stay.” She’d seen such a scenario in movies and read about it in books. And when he shrugged, she couldn’t help the bubble of giddiness that filled her chest. What a strange sensation, this excitement. “Okay. For a few days.”
Relief flashed in his eyes. “Thank you, Gabriella.”
“Gabby.”
His grin dropped. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like—”
“It’s not that I don’t like you calling me by my full name. It’s just the way you say it. It sounds…” She waved her hand and turned way. “Never mind. Is the bathroom through that door? I want to wash my face.”
Taryn reached out and brushed his fingers along her cheek. His touch didn’t sting, as she expected with her skin well on the way to bruising. Instead, the gentle motion splintered some of the barriers she tried to erect between them before she could even attempt to reinforce them. She craved his touch as much as she craved his kiss. Two things she recoiled from when it came to any other man.
But Taryn was different. Even if she tried to convince herself she didn’t deserve him or the promised safety he offered, he simply felt right.
Her head tilted into his touch.
“I’ll draw you a bath. I have some witchy things from Amelia that might help you heal. I don’t have much power in this world to do so myself, otherwise I would’ve taken these scrapes and bruises away already.” His voice was as soft as his touch, drawing her in faster than she could hold herself back. Her eyelids grew heavy as his fingertips feathered over her jaw, her brow. “If you’d prefer to stay in for dinner, I can arrange that.”
Gabby nodded without speaking. Her body began tipping toward Taryn until she sucked in a breath and snapped herself away from his alluring touch. He lowered his arm to his side.
“Give me a few minutes. I’ll ready the bath and leave you to soak and relax.”
Gabby didn’t argue. She listened to the water filling the tub in the adjoining room. Soothing scents, most she couldn’t name, wafted into the bedroom on curls of steam. She looked around the room, noting the masculine accents, mostly in the dark wood furniture and dark leather sitting chairs. The bed was large, with a burgundy comforter and black throw on the foot.
Taryn peeked around the doorframe. “Ready?”
Gabby nodded, motioning to the room. “Is this your bedroom?”
Taryn stepped into the doorway and brushed his hands on his jeans. “Yes.”
“I’m not going to impose here.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re not imposing. I gladly offer you my room to stay in. I’ve got several rooms in this house. I’ll sleep in one of the others.”
“Why don’t I stay in one of the others, then? Instead of displacing you?” Her attempt to put more space between them was failing. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Angel, you can’t displace me. Now, I want you to make sure the water isn’t too hot or cold.” He held out his hand to her. “Come on.”
Regardless of what would happen in the next few days, right now her spirits soared at Taryn’s generosity.
A bath.
She would finally have a chance to experience a bath.
* * *
Taryn carried the three mugs of coffee into the courtyard and placed them on the wrought-iron table. Briella and Syn each took one and began pouring milk and sugar into their mugs. He was surprised to have found the couple lingering in the kitchen when he came out of his room. Damn, if he and Gabriella were on Briella and Syn terms, he would’ve carried his woman into the shower without hesitation.
Instead, Syn had been rubbing Briella’s shoulders as his lifemate worried her bottom lip until it was red and swollen.
Even now, fifteen minutes later, her lip was still dark pink. Syn’s concerned glances hadn’t let up, either.
“Is she okay?” Briella asked. Taryn sat heavily in his chair and sipped his coffee, forgoing his usual healthy heap of sugar. He hoped the strong brew would energize him enough to gain some insight into the battle he would have to fight for Gabriella.
This wasn’t a physical battle, something he had all the confidence in the world of winning. This would be a battle of the unknown. Of shadows and secrets and intangibility.
“I don’t know,” Taryn said honestly.
How could she be okay? Amelia’d thought to punish Taryn for his behavior toward Gabriella the night they met by linking his sight to her damn bird’s, but when he saw Talib fly to his lifemate’s rescue, he thanked the Goddess for his friend’s foresight. Taryn may have stopped that bastard from raping her, but had he stopped him from hurting her? Had others hurt her? He was beginning to believe the shadows that suffocated the fire in her soul were nightmares he didn’t want to learn in great detail.
If he did, there was little telling to what lengths he’d go to destroy any person who ever hurt her.
That’s all he and his brothers needed. A bloody corpse trail, thanks to a lethal dragon with no mercy and a deadly personality when it came to his lifemate.
Taryn stared into the fountain pool beside them. Not even the gentle trickle of water or the rustle of leaves from the plants could ease the tension in his neck or the anxiety that flowed from Gabriella into him.
Anxiety. The woman was drowning in it.
He took a deep sip of coffee.
“What happened to her? The bruises on her face?” Syn asked.
Taryn leveled a cool glance on his friend. “She was attacked.”
“Baroqueth?” When Taryn shook his head, Briella’s shoulders sank in relief. “Then who?”
“Someone who won’t be bothering her again.” He set his mug on the table and frowned. “I’m not sure if it’s worse never having a lifemate or having one with the very real possibility she will leave me.”
Briella glanced at Syn, who pinned him with a hard glower. “Why would you think that?”
“She’s somehow convinced she doesn’t deserve this.” He waved toward the house. “That she doesn’t deserve me. Can you believe it?”
“And you think you can’t change her mind? This is uncharacteristic of you, Taryn, the man who can charm a snake into his bed.”
Taryn scowled. “I’m not trying to charm her.” Syn arched a brow and Taryn groaned. “Not into my bed. I’m t
rying to figure out what is going on inside her head that makes her say these things about herself. Believe them.”
“Janice.” Syn said the name as if it was the answer to everything.
Taryn stared at his friend. Maybe it was that simple. Maybe Janice was the whole reason behind Gabriella’s lack of self-worth. He well knew the damn woman was toxic.
Briella reached forward and squeezed his hand. “Give her time. Show her what you can offer her. Not the money, but the heart inside you.” Sadness crept into her expression. “Has she been abused?”
The last word, spoken with only a slight hesitation, riled his dragon. He had no way of knowing for sure, but his instincts were screaming the obvious.
“I’m no psychologist, but if she has been abused, it’s—”
A loud clatter echoed down the hallway from somewhere in the house. Taryn leaped to his feet and bolted inside. Panic and worry exploded in his chest as he burst into his room.
“Gabriella!”
He came to a sudden halt in the bathroom doorway. Gabriella stared up at him, wide eyed, only her head above the bubble-layered water. The small table beside the bathtub that had held salt and oil bottles lay on its side, the contents scattered across the floor. Only one bottle had shattered.
“I-I’m sorry. I was reaching back…for…”
Taryn closed his eyes and released the breath he had been holding. His heart pattered erratically for several beats before settling back into a sensible rhythm.
“I didn’t mean to barge in. I heard the crash. Thought something happened.” A relieved chuckle escaped him. “This is no casualty. I assure you.” He forced himself to avert his gaze, despite how tempting it was to admire her bubble-dotted hair and water-streaked face. “I, um, I’ll leave you to your bath. When you’re done, let me know so I can clean this up. I don’t want you cutting yourself.”
He turned to leave, silently cursing his fright and the sudden influx of hunger that needled his lower gut.
“Taryn?”
He paused a step away from the door. “Yes, angel?”
“Thank you.” Water sloshed in the tub with her movement. “For your kindness. It’s been a very long time.”
