Dawn till Dusk: An Urban Fantasy Romance (Genesis Crystal Saga Book 1)

by Becky Moynihan

  The brand was Mordecai’s way of raising the stakes. What would he do if I kept sticking my nose where I was told it didn’t belong? Or if Alec, or another shifter, reported me? I lifted my hand, instinctively reaching for the sore mark, but I balled my fist and withdrew. A dragon brand. My stomach curled. A permanent mark, a visible reminder that screamed who I was, who I belonged to.

  I had been relieved when Nevaeh was the one to visit this morning, with no sign of Alec. But her words sent me plummeting further into myself and now . . . now I wanted to be alone. To wallow. To be as pathetic as I felt.

  The only reason I’d had any joy in my Enforcer position over the years was my small ability to help. I knew there was a risk to my actions, knew that if I was caught . . . But the price was too high for the little I actually did. I should have learned that lesson four years ago. A brand was small, but if Mordecai caught me again . . .

  If he caught me again, I wouldn’t be the only one to suffer the consequences. Of that, I was certain.

  My neck ached, as if reinforcing my thoughts. The mark was resisting the natural and medicinal cures I tried, and I had to wonder if Mordecai had put chemicals on the brand. Thankfully, the pain was more tolerable than it had been that first night. I had almost felt better after running—literally—into Tarik, but the feeling had been short-lived. Probably a placebo. Imagined, like I imagined I could actually make a difference.

  “Reagan. You okay?” I glanced up. Nevaeh studied me, her slender fingers sliding locks of her hair into a braid. “I think I lost you there for a minute.”

  “Sorry,” I said. I reached for my cigarette case, resting on the couch arm beside me, and watched my fingers tremble as I went to light one.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Of course.”

  Nevaeh stared at me, eyes narrowing. “I know you better than that. You can’t give up on them now. You’ve been doing this for years, and you rarely get caught. The Fae need you. And you started Tarik down a path. You can’t abandon him now.” She paused, her lips curving into a smirk. “Besides, he’s kind of cute.”

  I groaned. The last thing I wanted to think about was the dusting of freckles on Tarik’s nose, or the way his hair fell over those bright green eyes.

  No.

  Thinking about him beyond our tenuous acquaintanceship was dangerous territory. He had felt guilty yesterday when he pieced together what Mordecai had done. Guilt changed people’s minds—but the feeling would fade. The rage would return. And while the thought of strategically avoiding him made me squirm, this relationship—if it could be called that—was too dangerous.

  Even if I was making progress through the heavy facade he wore over his emotions.

  I sighed. “If I keep helping him, you know what will happen. Mordecai isn’t above murdering innocents.”

  “He’s not exactly innocent, Reagan,” Nevaeh protested. “He painted the target on himself in that interview. But you’ve saved his life twice. Can you really walk away and let him go into those mines suspecting that this job isn’t what’s advertised?”

  She was right, of course. Tarik’s troubles were only beginning. But he couldn’t rely on me—that was dangerous too, would take him off his guard. He needed to be alert. I didn’t trust Mordecai, but I couldn’t watch him all the time. And after his slip-up, the Great Dragon was more of a threat than usual. Especially if he had both eyes pinned on Tarik.

  My head was going to split in two.

  “I don’t know, Nevaeh. Maybe I can help from a distance. A great distance.”

  She shrugged, unconvinced, but I stood to retrieve a soda. The moment I did, a great thud shook the penthouse. I groaned.

  “Hey, Reagan.”

  “Alec, I am not in the mood.”

  “Unsurprising. I saw your boyfriend today.” Ah, so he wasn’t in the mood either. Fine. He continued, “Taught him a little lesson: How to stay away from things that don’t belong to him 101.”

  “I don’t belong to you, either,” I snapped. Anger bubbled in my chest. “Stay out of this, Alec, I’m warning you. What happened in that interview is between our father and me. You have a job too. Do you want me to tell him you disobeyed and attacked one of his new employees?”

  Alec leaned against the couch. His gaze flicked to Nevaeh before he crossed his arms over his chest and spoke again. “You honestly think that you don’t belong to anyone? Has Father taught you nothing about loyalty?”

  “Loyalty is given. Ownership is taken.”

  “And in regards to our father, he holds the strings to both. You have a job to do, and I don’t recall father’s motto being ‘join the Fae in baking cookies and singing kumbaya.’”

  “Alec, get out,” Nevaeh said, sitting up a bit straighter.

  He disregarded her, instead moving closer to me. Nevaeh jumped to her feet as his chest inflated, but I waved her off. He was in my face when he said, “You’d rather have some random Fae scum than the son of the Great Dragon?”

  “Is that what this is about? You puffed-up egomaniac, I’d rather be left alone by all of you. Now get out of my apartment.”

  He grabbed my arm. His mistake. I balled my fist and decked him square in the nose. Cartilage crunched under my knuckles and he released my arm to clutch his face, anger sparking in his eyes as he took a step back. I pointed at the balcony. This time, he listened, loosing a low snarl before striding to the door.

  Nevaeh watched him retreat before she settled back onto the couch. Her eyes locked onto my trembling arms as she said, “Go shower. You’ll feel better.”

  I nodded my gratitude. By the time the water ran cold, she was gone, a text blinking at me from my phone. She understood that I needed time alone. Maybe tonight’s patrol would help. The wind under my wings, the stars glittering quietly above me. Peace—or the closest thing to peace I could find.

  But first . . . the inevitable. I needed to see Tarik. To apologize and explain. I didn’t want him to think he was a lost cause, but I couldn’t be his hero.

  I knew talking to him was potentially suicide. Mordecai would probably be watching him a bit more carefully and, if not him, Alec. But the sun was already falling from the sky and I started my patrol early all the time. Doing so now wouldn’t necessarily look suspicious. I shifted, jumping off the balcony and letting the wind catch my feathers. The gentle, familiar tug calmed my racing mind and rapid heartbeat.

  Tarik wasn’t along the borderline on the first flyover but, as I swooped back around closer to the manor, I saw the Fae employees leaving the mansion. No good. My patrol gave me an easy excuse to keep an eye on them, but Tarik would have to break off for me to stand a chance of getting a word in. I needed less eyes, especially at the moment.

  The universe had a sense of humor. Or maybe I had won a small favor. Instinct wanted to call the odds a sign, but in the pit of my stomach I knew better. Anything that worked in my favor would come back to bite me. Fate or no, most of the Fae split from Tarik before they came too close to The Pit. By the time he was parallel to the building, he was alone.

  I dropped out of the sky, rapid-shifting, worried my lion form would unnerve him. The blacktop bit into the bottoms of my feet and palms as I landed. For a long moment, we stood in silence. I scanned his face—the tired lines around his eyes, the way hair clung to his forehead. My gaze lingered on the purple bruise along his jaw. Inwardly, I flinched. Guilt poured over me in a wave, though I knew I wasn’t technically responsible for the mark. Still. If I hadn’t forced my way into his life, he wouldn’t have an arrogant, possessive dragon shifter tailing him.

  I took a step forward. And another. Then I asked quietly, “You’re okay?”

  He stared, wide-eyed and unblinking for what felt like an hour. I couldn’t stand the silence. When I was almost certain he wasn’t going to reply, I prepared to walk away. But then his mouth twisted into a sardonic grin.

  “Oh, this?” He gestured at his bruised jaw. “I’m used to this. But . . .” His expression changed ag
ain, darkened. “I’m assuming your friend Nevaeh told you about what happened this morning?”

  “Yeah.” I dropped my eyes to the concrete, staring at a jagged crack that ran between us. I didn’t miss the irony.

  “Yeah, well, your brother is a piece of work, you know that?” He leaned forward, as if to step closer, then rocked back on his heels. “But what I want to know is if you believe the crock he spouts, about Mordecai dishing out fair punishment. Do you think that”—he jabbed a finger at my neck—“is fair?”

  I huffed a small, half-hearted laugh. “If it’s any consolation, I’m fairly sure I broke Alec’s nose earlier. And adopted brother. He’s not lucky enough to share blood.” I paused, considering the rest of his words. Breathing seemed particularly hard when I said, “Honestly? If you’d asked me a few years ago, I would say the punishment was fair. But now . . . I’m not sure. I’m . . . confused.”

  His brow furrowed as his eyes shifted downward, then whipped up, as if noticing my naked state for the first time. “Here.” He reached behind him and tugged off his shirt, exposing skin free of bruises yet still littered with faint white scars. How—? “Can you put this on for me?”

  I snickered softly. “Um. Sure.” He held the shirt out and I accepted, sliding the soft linen over my head. His scent washed over me like rain. No. Like the earth after rain. Mentally, I shook myself. “I’ll never understand the Fae aversion to nudity.”

  A small smile tilted his lips, and part of me cracked at the sight.

  “It’s not an aversion—okay, maybe when we’re talking about a two-hundred-pound sweaty male shifter, yes—but it’s more a . . . distraction.” He cleared his throat, hand creeping toward his neck. “Anyway, no one deserves to be punished like that. No one. Not even—” He cut himself off and glanced away, jaw clenching. Then sighed. “You’re being abused, Reagan. Maybe you should be leaving your job, not me.”

  My breath skipped—the soft, airy hiccups that came before the wall of tears. Nope. That wasn’t going to happen, even if I knew, deep down, that he was right. I questioned the words of protest that sprang into my mind, formed them carefully, then forced them back down. If this was truly the last time I was going to speak freely with him, there were things I wanted him to know. Needed him to, for my sanity. Or maybe I simply needed to hear myself say them.

  “I moved out, you know. When I started to make my own salary. Mordecai insists on paying the rent. I understand why, now. Control. I didn’t then.” I struggled to still my trembling hands. “I thought that, as an Enforcer, I could help people. I thought maybe I could make a difference. Because I started to see things as I grew up and every time a Fae was harmed, my entire being wanted to recoil. I knew that no matter what sugar-coated reasons Mordecai and Alec gave, they were doing terrible things. But what he did to me? It’s far from the worst thing he’s ever done to punish me.” I lowered my voice. “You might be right, but if I try to leave? Tarik . . . I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  After a moment of heavy silence, he groaned, scrubbing both hands down his face. “Man, Reagan,” he muttered, gaze pinging all over the place. His next words were strained, like they hurt to say. “The thing is, I’m the last person you should be getting help from. I’m—I’m no good. I’ll only add to your troubles. I wish I could help, but . . .”

  I stepped closer, until I could barely pass my arms between us. He was so tall. I lifted a hand, gently brushing the scars on his cheek.

  “You’re not the bad, evil person you make yourself out to be, Tarik. You’ve had horrible things done to you, probably beyond what I can imagine. I can tell the scars run deep.” I withdrew, adding softly, “But I didn’t come to you for help. In fact, the exact opposite. I may want to help you, but I’m only digging you in deeper. You kept getting yourself into trouble for no reason, and you looked so lost . . . like you needed a friend. But now there’s an even bigger target on your back, and that’s my fault. If I don’t stop trying to help you, there will be no you left to help. So. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay. I have been all this time.”

  I offered a tight-lipped smile before I moved around him, taking slow steps down the alley. My heart and body ached. I didn’t know if I was making the right decision.

  Stop. Wait. Go back.

  All Tarik really needed was a guiding light; the potential was all there, hidden beneath layers of thick defenses. In the back of my mind I knew he didn’t want to be alone. That he needed someone, anyone, who could see him and pull him out of the darkness. To remind him that he mattered, even to one person. He had scars I couldn’t see and I knew that with time, I could help mend them.

  But I didn’t have time. Mordecai made sure of that.

  “You’re not okay.” The words gave me pause, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. “And you’re not hurting me. You’re saving me. You’re saving me from myself, and . . . please don’t leave.”

  I froze. Oh. Oh no. My voice cracked, tears springing free when I said, “I can’t watch them kill you. I can’t condemn you to that.”

  His voice was nearer the next time he spoke. “A few days ago, I was a dead man walking. I—I wanted them to kill me. Then you swooped in, literally. I wasn’t happy about your interference, but now . . . maybe I want to stick around a little bit longer. And I wouldn’t mind if you bugged me once in a while. On occasion. Not all the time, but . . .”

  Damnit. I couldn’t stay. I swallowed hard. “I thought you didn’t want a personal stalker.”

  The warmth from his body touched my back as he said, “Maybe this stalker thing is growing on me.”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I am a pushover Enforcer after all.” Despite myself, I laughed quietly, the sound clipped by a small hiccup.

  I felt a soft tug on my hair. Then, “You are, actually. But maybe I’m okay with that too.”

  My laugh was more genuine this time—still airy, but warmth sparked in my chest. Only for a moment. I stared at the dimming skyline, exhaling slowly. “I have to patrol. I can’t make you any promises, Tarik. But, if I can, I’ll find you in a couple days.”

  “Oh, I have faith in your stalker abilities.”

  “You haven’t even had a taste.” I grinned and turned around, still finding that my eyes wanted to look anywhere but at his. I tugged his shirt over my head. “Here, you need this. I have to shift. Sorry if it’s . . . disconcerting?” My eyebrows pulled together. “And . . . thank you.”

  I stepped away from him and closed my eyes. Felt the pressure, the tingle, the savage crack of bone. I bit back the gasp that tried to escape when my ribs widened. Why couldn’t I be a cute, small shifter? I tucked in my wings immediately, finally looking up to meet Tarik’s eyes.

  He squinted, peering into my face as if— “Can you hear me, Reagan? How many fingers am I holding up?” He lifted two digits in the air.

  I huffed, a puff of air escaping my nose. Then I growled, two throaty rumbles that bounced off the walls of the alley around us.

  With a slight grimace, he whispered, “That’s gonna take some getting used to.”

  I stepped closer, slowly, tentatively. Lowering my head, I tried to make myself seem a tad smaller. I wasn’t kidding anyone—even for a lion I was massive. I stopped in front of him, bumping his side with the top of my head.

  “Whoa,” he said, the word vibrating through my skull. His hands latched onto my ears and I shook my head, swatting at him. “Okay, okay.” He backed up, palms facing outward. “Good . . . kitty?”

  A small hum vibrated up my throat as I circled him, then nudged him backward. He moved without too much effort—wary, like he thought I might hurt him still—and when I had the space I needed, I spread my wings, stretching them to their full glory. I watched Tarik’s jaw drop and growled with satisfaction before I sprang down the alley and shot into the sky.

  —

  Could I escape Nathra City? Leave Mordecai and Alec behind?

  I spent a lot of the evening pondering the conversation I’d had with Tarik
. In my gut I wondered if I should have told him so much. Spoken so poorly of Alec and Mordecai. Guilt clawed at me, gnawed at the parts that still felt the relentless tug of blind loyalty. Still, I couldn’t deny there lay a certain relief in dropping those words into the world. Letting them fade away into the night air.

  What he had said about abuse, though . . . the words stung. I knew he was right. Maybe. I mean, I knew the rules. Right? My chest tightened. I hated that I wasn’t sure what could actually be termed abuse. Did the same terms apply when I knew the rules? If I committed an action, knowing the consequences, and was then punished . . . That couldn’t be abuse, right?

  As much of a challenge as Tarik was, I secretly enjoyed our spats, in a weird way. The challenge that being friends with him presented.

  And underneath, there’s a good man. I can feel it.

  I closed my eyes, releasing a breath. Feeling so much, wanting to feel so little—I hated every second. His encouragement was the push I needed to keep me on the right path, though. But to do that I needed to find out exactly what I was saving him from.

  Nevaeh and I spent an entire day gathering schedules from around the mansion. The Fae worked fairly long hours, but Mordecai almost never oversaw them himself. Nevaeh’s rat form was incredibly useful for this type of work—she was sneaky, and clever enough not to get caught—and the information she extracted was helpful.

  When we had gathered all the intel we needed, we formed a plan. A day later, we set it into motion.

  And even though I was reluctant to lose sleep, to leave the warmth of the sunshine above for the dark, unsettling mines, that’s exactly where we were. Currently Nevaeh was perched on my shoulder, digging her claws into my shirt as payback for the cracker I was dangling above her. She was always hungry in rat form. Always. Torturing her with snacks endlessly entertained me.

  She clamped her teeth around a strand of my hair, tugging sharply. My grin grew, but I relented, passing her the snack. Her eyes remained narrowed as she munched. Crumbs littered my shoulder—the rat shifter was intentionally making a mess. Karma, I supposed. Her fur caught a bit of light, pale lavender to match the color of her hair, a neat little trick I had always envied. She had been a rainbow of colors over the years, but the lavender suited her round, black eyes.