by Lori King
“The facts before me now tell me you are a good man who has figurative demons riding your soul, as well as a literal demon sharing real estate at the heart of your very being.” A great sadness and sense of remorse radiate from my former beloved. “Sadly, I am likely one of those figurative demons that has tortured you for centuries, no?”
I nod. Fuck, there’s no sense denyin’ the plain truth. “Yes,” she agrees. “I have much to answer for in that regard.”
She turns to the bar to pick up the tumbler of whisky. After draining the glass, she slaps it down on the bar to refill it from the 21-year-old bottle of Macallan single malt Scotch whisky. I have to smirk cause she’s downing that stuff like water. Tara, master barkeep and my fellow enforcer, would be affronted at her top shelf hooch being disrespected in such a manner. After draining her sixth or seventh tumbler, she literally smacks her lips in appreciation. “Breena would approve,” she says quietly.
I wonder who the fuck Breena is, because I’ve heard Jenniene and those Spell Weavers who came to offer us support mention this woman, but I let it go for now. I have a much bigger gator to wrestle than wondering who some broad might be to my woman. My woman? Since when, Joker? She made it clear a long assed time ago, that you are nothing to her.
My anger over her past rejection returns, white hot and vicious. Over a century’s worth of futile ire spills out of my very soul and I snarl at my mate, “So what now, Jenni? What in hell do you expect from me?”
I can feel her bristle at my tone. There’s that backbone! She’s gone ram-rod stiff now. This lil’ Cajun Queen, she won’t tolerate dat shit for long. No way. My inner demon is rubbing his hands together in anticipation of a good row with our female. He always enjoyed fightin’ with my bébé jolie, because the fights always led to amazing angry sex and sweet ministrations afterward. I tell the little fucker to cool his jets, cuz there’s no way in hell that’s gonna happen now. I’m not layin’ a hand on dis woman till I am sure she’s gonna stick around. No way. No how.
Instead, I impassively watch as she calmly sets the glass down and turns to face me. “Nuthin’, JOKER. Not a gods-damned thing. I have no right to expect anything from you or anyone here. But Blood has promised to help protect the child. We can’t afford to fail the child.” Suddenly, the lines of exhaustion carve deep grooves in her otherwise flawless face. “I will remain in Tulsa until we have eliminated the threat. After that…” Her words trail off and she shrugs slightly. “I’m the one who wronged you, so tell me: what do you want, Zeke?”
I stare into her beloved face for several long moments as I wrestle with what I want and what I think I deserve. I desire a second chance with my beloved, but my inner demon insists I am not worthy. An epic struggle rages in my heart, but I know all Jenniene sees is the mask I wear for all the world to see. I suspect she only sees the male who seems to live in the moment, wanting nothing more than a good time, a chance to kick ass now and then, and chase tail. There’s so much more to me than that, but in this moment I have no words. I am mute. Frozen behind a wall of deafening silence that spells the end of all of our hopes.
After a couple of minutes of my stupefied mute routine, she moves to sit on a barstool and leans tiredly against the bar before pouring another three fingers of Tara’s hooch. After draining the glass, she meets my eyes across the distance, physical and emotional, which separates us. “Zeke, I didn’t explain myself because I was seeking your forgiveness.” She smiles sadly and I can plainly see the immense burden that’s been on her shoulders for all these years. “Don’t get me wrong: forgiveness would be nice, but I just don’t believe it’s gonna happen.” I can see she believes the words coming out of her mouth. “There’s no justification for what I did. I denied our love, I denied you, out of fear and ignorance. I was a chicken-shit bitch. That’s unforgivable.”
She stands from the stool, wobbles a bit before reaching out to steady herself by grasping the bar top. I can’t help but wonder if it’s the hooch or her utter exhaustion making her waver. I want to go offer physical support, but my pride and uncertainty keep me rooted in place. “I’ve spent my entire life seeking redemption for being a stupid and trusting girl when I met Alexandre.” She laughs harshly. “Honestly, I don’t even believe in redemption for myself any longer, but protecting those who need it has just become a way of life.”
She looks at something behind me and says, “So, as long as there is breath in my body, that’s what I’m gonna do. I promised a dying mortal girl dat I would protect le bébé. So that’s what I am a gonna do.” I smile at the Cajun I hear in her speech. She’s like me in that way, strong emotion brings out the old way of speaking. “When le enfant is safe, I go home. Back to my bayou to chase rogue demons and vamps. I’ll darken your life no more.” Her words carry the weight of a promise, and I long to speak out, to say that’s not what I want. But pride, anger, and hurt have frozen my tongue.
“Come along, Mistress Jenniene. Sunny is awake and I think she is looking for you. Besides that, girl, you need to rest if you are going to help us keep the little cub safe.” Blood’s booming voice coming from behind me damn near makes me jump outta my skin. That ancient muther-fucker is spooky as hell. Not many can sneak up on me like he just did. But then again, all of my attention was on Jenni.
Jenniene searches my face for a long moment, but when I don’t even twitch, she gives me a resolute nod before wobbling away to join my boss and mentor. I watch as he offers his arm, which she accepts graciously. My anger is on a slow simmer as I watch my friend assist my exhausted and intoxicated mate up the stairs to her room. The rising territorial feelings that are stirring around in my gut make me want to push my friend away from my woman.
Fuck, dumbass, there ya go again. She’s not your woman. She made that clear as fine crystal over a century ago, and she sure as fuck didn’t deny it tonight. Dat female, she don’ belong to you. Not then, not now, not ever!
6
Jenniene
Once I have kissed the baby goodnight, whom the MC members have begun calling Sunny, I stagger to my room to sleep off the expensive whisky I had swilled like water. After I strip out of my fighting leathers and boots, I flop across the bed wearing nothing but my bra and panties. Deep sleep, the kind which only truly exhausted bodies experience, quickly overtakes me, but not before I take a moment to appreciate the fact that Tara’s fine whisky kept me mellow while I bared my blackened soul to Zeke. It was worth it, even if it will cost me one helluva hangover in the morning.
Bold rays of mid-morning light sneak between the slats of the ancient blinds that cover the windows. The persistent glare filters through my closed eyelids, and the call to meet a new day pushes the slumber I crave just out of my reach. No! I wanna sleep. I know I am behaving like a lazy child refusing to leave dreamland, but I know once I open my eyes, it’s the beginning of the end. If we are victorious tonight, I will go home – alone. If we fail, no one has a chance at a happy ending. Either way, today will be my last day to be happy in Zeke’s presence. Yeah, being awake right now really sucks ass.
Deliberately keeping my eyes closed, and breathing evenly to avoid the painful onslaught of a new day on what promises to be an epic hangover, I slowly open myself to wakefulness. Immediately, I am filled with the certain knowledge that I am not alone in my room. The big unanswered question, Is my visitor friend or foe? After a tense moment awaiting an attack, a peal of genuine feminine laughter surrounds me as it fills the entire room with very unwelcome cheerfulness.
“I know you are awake, demon girl.” Tara’s sultry voice and taunting tone send prickles of annoyance down my spine. I groan my irritation at being awakened in this manner. This chick is so not who I want to deal with on top of a hangover. I’m pretty sure I know exactly what awaits me when I open my eyes. Tara is either going to attack or give me the “Get the Hell out of Dodge” speech. Either way, she’s only looking out for Zeke, so I fully intend to let her do whatever she needs to do. It’s obvious after Zeke’s reacti
on last night that no one truly wants me here. Once I know the child is safe, I’m gonna high-tail it back to New Orleans. I may not have much of a life there, but at least back home, only the bad guys despise the very sight of me.
I sigh softly, dreading what’s coming, but knowing it’s inevitable. The realization that this female will likely spend centuries living and working around my male, my fated mate, yet I will not even be a fond memory, is disheartening. Jeez, Jenniene, just let the vamp have her say, or get her licks in. Whatever she needs to do to you to feel like she’s doing her duty as friend to your mate.
No matter her intent, my path is set. Once Sunny is safe, neither Zeke nor anyone else here at the Twin Ravens will ever have to give me a second thought. Maybe it’s time to take Breena up on her offer to hang out at a villa on the Italian Riviera. Maybe spending my days with Breena’s amazing family and my nights with some random, sexy Immortal Enforcers is just what I need to get over losing my last thread of hope for a life with my one true mate.
I am so deeply involved in my mental pity party that at first the words coming out of the vampire’s mouth don’t even register. “Blah, blah, blah…” Tara’s mocking tone is jarring, but not really hateful. I groan loudly and roll over to face her where she sits in the bedside chair. “You need to learn to erect better mental shields before you go to sleep, little girl. You are easier to read right now than a Dick and Jane reader.”
I roll my eyes and sit up slowly, fully expecting the hangover to hit me like a ton of bricks just any second. Tara’s musical chortle captures my attention. “I always charm my good whisky to prevent hangovers.” She smirks knowingly at me. “So, you’re welcome.”
I can’t help but smile in return at the snarky vamp sitting in my room as I move cautiously to sit cross-legged on the bed. I’m not feeling any symptoms of a hangover yet, and the vamp said I won’t, but I haven’t lived this long by taking things at face value. “What can I do for you, Tara?” After a few seconds pass, I realize I am truly experiencing zero hangover symptoms. I grin happily at my visitor and say, “Thank you. By all rights, I should be hugging the porcelain throne right about now.”
Her answering giggle is truly infectious and wholly unexpected. Oddly, I find I am caught up in the vamp’s apparent good mood. But I do need to pee something fierce, so I realize I need to find out what the vamp wants so that I can go take care of that little matter without being overly rude.
She laughs again and says, “Go answer the call of nature. We have a few very important things to discuss, and I do not want your attention on your neglected bodily functions.” She shudders as though experiencing a deep sense of revulsion. “I can honestly say I do not miss that part of being human.” I can’t help but grin when she makes air quotes as she says the word human. With a nod, I slide off the bed and head for the bathroom to give nature her due and brush my teeth. Spelled whisky or not, my mouth still feels like Sherman marched to the sea across my tongue and gums… several times. YUCK!
Upon my return, I am pleasantly surprised to find a tray containing a steaming carafe of coffee and a light breakfast of toast, scrambled eggs, and sliced fruit on a tray waiting for me. I tuck into the repast with vigor and don’t address my guest again until I have drained my first cup of coffee and eaten half of my breakfast. Once I have taken the edge off of my morning hunger, I face the vamp and say, “So I gather you went digging around in my head while I slept?” The sexy vampire witch only grins contentedly and nods. I don’t like it, but what can I say? I was the one who was dumb enough to get so wasted that I forgot to set my shields before sleep. I already knew what she was capable of and had no reason to believe she would respect my right to privacy. “And?”
The tiny dynamo rises from the chair and joins me where I am again sitting cross-legged on the bed. “Yours wasn’t the only mind I snooped through this morning.” Honestly, I am blown away by her blatant admission, but I wait patiently to hear what else she has to say for herself. “I also paid my pal, Joker, a visit. And you might as well know I listened in to your little heartfelt confession-fest last night.” I open my mouth to let her know exactly how much I despise eavesdroppers, but her next words shut me up, instantly.
“Yes, little girl, you still have a soul. A vibrant, beautiful, loving, and strong soul of a born guardian. The heritage you gained from your mother is rich in earth magic, and has made you quite powerful as the years have passed. However, you are bound to that demon.” I feel sickened at that confirmation. Tara smiles indulgently and says, “But that’s not entirely a bad thing. Demons are hard as hell to kill. The most we can hope to accomplish on this plane of existence is to send them back to whatever hell realm they were spawned from.”
She pauses a moment to let those little morsels sink in. A wave of sick dread washes over me because I feel as though she has just confirmed my worst fear. I am bound to that demon – I am a part of him, our lives forever connected. I shudder in revulsion. Obviously, the witch is still reading my thoughts. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, lil’ sista, he has no power whatsoever over you.” Her words are reassuring, but I wonder what our connection means. “The only way that demon can affect you is if he meets his true death. At such a time, you, too, will die. But until that happens, you are in the driver’s seat of what is likely to be a very long life.”
The relief I feel upon learning I still have a soul is overshadowed by the unwelcome news that I might very well turn out to be a true Immortal. The prospect of living for eons on end without Zeke in my life is truly untenable. Hell, even the prospect of living that long with him joined to me at the hip isn’t what I would truly want for my life. Sentient beings just aren’t wired for that kind of longevity. Boredom, disappointment, regrets, pain, and loss all color our personalities and affect our actions. I wonder just how bad the accumulative effect an unbearably long life of loneliness would have on a soul. I find these countless possibilities more than I want to contemplate. I sigh softly and nod wordlessly, while I frantically struggle to come to terms with this revelation.
I am not sure how long we sit in silence while I wallow around in a putrid sludge of self-pity, worry, and regret. Tara apparently takes pity on me and says, “He loves you. He always has. Last night he was just stuck in the muck and mire of the misery that has been his life ever since you banished him from your life.”
I feel that unwelcome tightness in my throat and the slight burning sensation in the back of my eyes, that usually indicates I am about to cry. Oh, hell, no. I am not going to cry in front of this one. No way. No how.
Tara’s unbridled laughter distracts me enough to stem the unrelenting tide of deep sorrow and remorse that followed her reminder of just how badly I have hurt the man I love. “Suck it up, Butter Cup. I told ya that I went snoopin’ in his head, too.” I nod because she did indeed openly admit to entering Zeke’s mind as well. I remind myself to teach him how to protect his thoughts from powerful psychics like Tara, at some unidentified future time.
Her lovely features suddenly soften to reveal a gentler version of the woman I have come to respect over the last few days. “Give him a moment to catch his breath, Jenniene. Joker’s barely been treading water from the moment you walked through the front door of the clubhouse. As you can well imagine, it’s a bit unexpected and overwhelming to have your one true love come back from the great beyond. You were fully aware that he was alive and well here in Tulsa for some time, but Zeke reasonably believed that you were long dead.”
She dusts imaginary crumbs from her leather pants and says, “Add all the freaks that come out of the preternatural wood pile as All Hallows Eve approaches, and the mayhem these shitty Ghouls have brought to our hometown, and it’s a perfect shit-storm of misery for everyone here. Of course he needs a moment to come to terms with it all.”
She surprises me when she reaches out to clasp my hand in her own and give it a reassuring squeeze. “He will come around. He will forgive you and be willing to try again with you. I�
��d stake my entire stock of Macallan Scotch on it.” I can’t help but chuckle at that qualification. I haven’t known this female long, but I have quickly learned just how very much she values her top-shelf liquor.
The bossy little vamp proceeds to pat my knee like we are old friends before quipping, “Now hop in the shower to wash the Ghoul guts and gray matter out of your hair before you slip into that male’s room and let him know you’d be willing to stick around for him after things calm down around here.” She cocks an eyebrow at me and adds, “Last night you basically said you couldn’t leave Tulsa behind fast enough. I think you said that because you expected scorn and rejection from Joker and the rest of the MC. But I believe your Zeke will be open to other options.” She grins happily and adds, “The rest of us fools don’t matter. Just you and your man.” Before I can form any words to reply, she’s whisked the tray from my lap and left the room.
* * *
After showering, I don an old tank top and a pair of boxer shorts, both of which would probably look better on a less Rubenesque female figure, but I just don’t give a rat’s ass. This is me, big round hips, soft belly, thunder thighs, and all. Honestly, my appearance has only changed superficially since the days Zeke and I were together, so I doubt my choice of attire will prove to be a turn-off. In fact, judging by a couple of appreciative leers I received from his fellow enforcers while en route to Zeke’s room, I’d say that I rock the look these men appreciate.
But my confidence falters just a bit when I find myself standing before his closed door. I don’t hear any sounds coming from within, leaving me to wonder if he’s still sleeping or has already gone downstairs in search of food or news about the Ghoul encroachment into Tulsa. Suddenly, I realize I am not truly worried whether or not he’s out or asleep… I simply have no clue what the hell I’m going to say to the man this morning. I confessed my darkest sins to him last night, and he simply stood there impassively, like I was talking about something that didn’t even affect him directly. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
