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

by Becky Moynihan

  And in that pause, she looked up and met my eyes. Only for a moment, but one was enough.

  Then she moved.

  Throwing her arms around my shoulders, she buried her face in my neck.

  A shuddering sigh shook my entire body and I clutched at her, fumbling, grasping, until she firmly rested in my arms, going nowhere. Ever again.

  We stayed that way a minute.

  Two.

  I would stay for however long she wanted.

  The soft sizzle of bacon filled my ears. I leaned my hip against the stove and casually poked at the long strips of meat with a pair of tongs. A soft pop made me jump, shaking me from my thoughts. The burn never came, though, and I narrowed my eyes. There were small benefits to clothing, even if I would never admit it to a certain Fae.

  Bacon for breakfast was Tarik’s idea; when Akeno and Nevaeh ran for supplies this morning, Tarik had asked them to grab a package. The moment I woke up he asked me to cook it, saying the others needed to try the glory that I had introduced him to.

  Now he sat, shooting glances at me in between slowly prodding Sebastian’s glass of orange juice closer and closer to the edge of the table they occupied.

  While I waited for the slices to darken, I pulled my cigarette case from my pocket, gripping the end of one between my teeth before I tucked the case away. I hadn’t shifted since we left the penthouse, and the feeling was starting to gnaw at me; we needed to shift regularly or the animal might pop out, regardless of what we wanted.

  Maybe this afternoon I could slip outside and shift for a few minutes—I didn’t need to accidentally become a lion in the Safehouse and terrify the innocent Fae. I flicked my lighter to life. The end glowed bright as I inhaled, slowly releasing the smoke. Better. The shifting tension eased.

  A second later, the cigarette was plucked from my mouth.

  “House rules,” Tarik said in my ear, tapping the cig end on a paper towel. The towel started smoking and he jabbed the cigarette against the kitchen counter several times, swearing softly. “Besides, all that smoke isn’t good for your body.”

  My wings pressed hard against my spine, white hair spilling into my eyes. I shook my head and inhaled, focused on stopping the transition. When blue and black strands fell over my shoulder again, I smirked. “You know what’s not good for your body? Taking a cigarette from an edgy shifter.”

  He looped a strand of my hair around his finger and tugged. “I’ll risk it.” Then he was gone.

  “What are we risking?” Caspar asked. He leaned against the door frame, the electronic chirp of an arcade game blaring out of the handheld his eyes were locked on.

  “Entire limbs, if Tarik’s not careful.”

  “Do you have to play that noisy thing so early in the morning?” Tarik grumbled from the table, adding, “It’s not natural.”

  “Yes,” Caspar shot back. “Just to annoy you.” He grinned, but dropped into a chair and rested the device on the table. “So when do we eat? And what are we eating?” He sniffed the air. “Smells good, whatever it is.”

  “Something that’ll change your life,” Tarik said. “And put hair on your chest. Or, in your case, more hair.”

  I nudged a strip of bacon, deeming the piece finished, and dropped it onto a paper towel beside me. Tarik was there in a flash, snatching the piece even as I warned him he would burn himself. He rounded on his first target, Sebastian, who had been stoically ignoring us as he flipped the pages of his book.

  “Hey, man, you have to try this,” Tarik said, waving the strip in front of Sebastian’s face.

  Startled, the blond Fae snapped the book shut. Sniffed. “That does smell—wait, is that leather?”

  Tarik guffawed before he broke a piece off and slowly bit down with a crackling crunch. “That’s what I said too. Meat tastes a lot better than it looks, I swear. Try a piece.”

  This time, he stuck the remaining portion under Sebastian’s nose and the blond leaned away, hands raised. But Tarik was relentless, tracking his movements with the bacon. Finally, his victim shot out of his chair and inched backward. “Look, no offense to the shifters in this room, but the thought of eating meat makes me want to hurl. I’ll stick with fruits and vegetables.”

  “I’ll try your meat, Tarik,” one of the twins said, a sly grin curving his lips as he elbowed his look-alike.

  “This is an adults-only experience, Micah,” Tarik said, pointing the bacon at him. “Wait another year.” The twins protested loudly as Tarik took another bite, chewing noisily.

  Nevaeh brushed past the small crowd gathering in the doorway, rolling her eyes and tossing her gum in the trash bin. Hopping up on the counter, she watched me impatiently as I dropped one strip after another onto the paper towel, snitching two before Tarik could beat her to them. His eyes narrowed. She shrugged. “Too slow.” Her eyes scanned the room. “Anyone else gonna eat, or are Tarik and I going to battle for the bacon?”

  A long beat of silence passed. Akeno eyed her warily, his jaw opening, then clamping shut like he couldn’t decide, when Elias said, “I will.” Sebastian lowered his hands, eyes wide. The twins fell silent, and even Caspar tore his attention away from his game for a moment. Elias looked around, then shrugged. “What? I trust Tarik. Maybe it’s time for change. Maybe we’ve been missing out on something amazing all these years.”

  An emotion flickered across Tarik’s face. His throat bobbed. I wagged a strip of bacon toward him, gripped between the tongs. He slipped the piece free and strode over to Elias, pulling him into a tight hug. “I missed you, man. Now eat this while it’s hot. It’s the only way.”

  He did, and the surprised delight that lit his face encouraged the others on. At one point Flynn passed through the room, his expression blank, utterly oblivious to the chaos of several Fae men now trying to gang up on poor Sebastian. Even Nevaeh joined in, prodding Akeno and Caspar to pin him down. I turned my back to finish cooking the last of the package when a shout rang out, and Sebastian bolted from the room.

  “Tarik, Elias, I’m warning you,” Sebastian yelled, sliding around a corner with both men hot on his tail. From the next room, he roared, “Get that thing away from me.”

  “You’ll never be the same, Seb,” Tarik practically crowed. “Just one bite!”

  —

  I shifted, laying myself out on my side with my wings tucked carefully behind me. After our eventful morning, I insisted Tarik let me go out for air; the sweet morning breeze was positively glorious after the heat of the kitchen. The sun warmed my fur enough to stave off a real chill and I stretched my claws, a low rumble of contentment rolling from my throat. My mind dimmed, falling to the cusp of a nap when I heard the door snap shut.

  Someone gasped dramatically and I raised my head enough to see Tarik approaching, hand clasped to his chest. “You gave me a fright. For a second there I thought you were a real lion. Then I reasoned, no, lions aren’t usually so pigment challenged. You’re getting the hang of it, though. But be careful not to stay out too long or you’ll get sunburnt.”

  I lowered my head to the grass, loosing a growl.

  “Really?” A huff. “Fine.” He plopped down next to me. My side twitched where he rested his head, then adjusted himself into a more comfortable position.

  Tickles.

  I crossed one of my paws over the other, relaxing into a sun-stupor. My eyes drifted closed, breaths slowing, nap in sight.

  “I need to tell you something.” At the interruption, my eyes slid open, narrowing. “Can you shift?”

  Another low growl vibrated out of me. I swatted him lightly with a paw, my tail flicking in annoyance. Shhh, Tarik, nap time, I wanted to say.

  “Reagan.” I ignored him. “Reagan, this is important.” Another tail flick.

  All went silent and my mind switched off. A light caress ran the length of my rear paw—my leg jerked. The tickling continued and I batted at the intrusion. Warm air blew in my ear, making it flick back and forth. I groaned.

  “Come out, Reagan. I
know you’re in there.”

  With a huff of frustration, I shifted. The moment my vocal chords were human, I scoffed, “What do you think happens when I shift? A lion flies in and eats me?” With a frown, I added, “I’m not a common house cat you know. I am fierce. Fierce.”

  He smirked down at me. “Sure you are. And my tiny Fae brain has a hard time understanding how a large cat is curled up inside your little—” His words cut off as his gaze trailed over my naked body.

  I reached out a finger, tilting his chin up. “It’s skin. Focus. You interrupted my attempt at a nap. This better be important.” I considered, then added, “And I mean, shifting doesn’t tickle. Having your bones extended and snapped into new locations is actually kind of painful. If you wondered.”

  Grimacing, he said, “I wondered, but now I have a clear visual. Thanks for that.” He shuddered. “So does your brain become a lion’s too when you”—his finger twirled in the air—“do that thing you do?”

  Rolling my eyes, I sighed. “No. Not usually, anyway. Mordecai used to tell me stories about shifters whose animals took control when there was no other way for them to survive.” A shiver rolled down my spine. “I don’t care to find out if there’s any truth to them.”

  Tarik gave his head a small shake, then huffed a laugh. “Wow. Well, let’s hope a day never comes when you see me as prime rib.” Jumping to his feet, he reached a hand down. “And it is important. Come with me.”

  I sighed. Goodbye, delicious sunshine. Goodbye, nap. I accepted the hand that was offered, following him inside.

  A few steps in, he stopped abruptly. “Uh, wait here,” he said, dashing outside and quickly returning with the clothes I had forgotten about. “You might want to put these on.”

  Inhaling, I released a long breath. Today was exhausting already. Whatever he was up to, I seriously considered shifting and returning to my attempted nap. Let him try to drag a lion away. At least my shifter nature wasn’t trying to burst out of my skin now. But I relented, tugging the clothing on. “This better be worth the effort.”

  He chuckled. “I hope so, too. I don’t want to become catnip.”

  I turned in his direction, slowly running my gaze down the length of him and back up. “You still might.”

  His brows rose in surprise. A beat later, his lips tipped up, and he leaned in close, whispering, “Is that a promise?”

  Warmth hit my cheeks and I leaned closer. “And if it is?”

  He erased the space between us, breath tickling my ear. “If it is . . . you’ll have to catch me first.”

  I growled loudly as he disappeared around the corner. Prick. But I grinned, glancing at the empty kitchen before I stepped into the dining room. Rebel Leader had set out picnic tables instead of more traditional seating—kid-friendly and seated more people, he had said. The concrete walls were plastered with children’s art, one of the few things he encouraged them to “destroy.” Nevaeh spent hours with them when she could, teaching them to paint and draw.

  The rest of the room beyond had been made into a communal lounge—couches, recliners, and a single television dotted the space. A few Fae waved as I passed, a couple tilting their heads pointedly in the direction of the covered garden out back. I grinned and nodded my thanks before I stepped outside, pausing to admire the handiwork.

  Rebel Leader had done really well by this garden. The top was concealed so that nosy dragons couldn’t see in, but the space was still open enough that sunlight poured through. The plants grew in plethora. Despite my aversions, I couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty—even in the vegetables. I spied a bobbing head of red hair behind the tomato vines and slid around the corner. Tarik sat cross-legged and met my eyes as he took a bite out of a giant tomato.

  I gagged, turning away. “No, ugh. You’re tainted catnip now. Your loss, sorry.” I swallowed hard before I glanced back over my shoulder.

  He stopped chewing, eyes round with shock. Then burst out laughing. A thin trail of tomato juice dribbled down his chin and my stomach lurched. Finally, after a full minute of rolling on the ground, he said, “For that, I’m putting you on tomato-picking duty. Say hello to your new job.”

  “I can pick them but please don’t make me eat them.” I gagged again, sticking my tongue out for effect.

  His face turned serious. “I’m sorry, Reagan, but I can’t promise that. You see, Fae have this ritual. One involving tomatoes and shot glasses.”

  My hand fell to my fluttering stomach. “If I puke, I’m aiming for you.”

  He scrambled off the ground. “Noted. Good thing I was joking about the shot glasses. There may actually be a bathtub involved.”

  I dry-heaved, pleased when he had the decency to look slightly concerned. “What are we actually doing out here?”

  “Well, I was serious about putting you on tomato-picking duty, but more like garden duty. You said you didn’t have anything to do, so I asked if they’d let you help here. Outside seems to be your preference, so . . .” He spread his arms wide. “Here we are.”

  I met his eyes and held them for a long moment. This time when my stomach fluttered, the cause was very different. The corner of my lips rose. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

  He smiled softly. “You might not be thanking me when you pick a rotten tomato and guts splatter all over your face.”

  “Are you speaking from experience?” I considered, nose wrinkling. “How do you even pick a tomato so poorly that . . . You know, never mind.”

  He sidled over to me, grin firmly in place, and bent his head down. “Good luck. Exploding tomatoes are no laughing matter.” Then he strolled on by, whistling a merry tune.

  —

  I stepped from the shower, grateful for the removal of dirt and grime from helping in the garden all afternoon. Filling my day with work made the time go so much faster, and lightening the load of the Fae already working outside filled my soul with joy.

  “The clothing though,” I grumbled, tugging on another set of modified Fae clothes. Nevaeh had offered to retrieve a handful of mine, or to lend me hers, but on the off chance someone spotted me outside, I was much less noticeable in the Fae garb. Still, this was one part of Fae life I would never adjust to. Why didn’t they all want to run free, let the wind caress their skin . . .

  A knock broke my train of thought. The showers were loosely communal, split by curtains. Any of the women could have come in. I dried my hair a touch more and slid the towel onto a rack before I pulled the door open—and met a wide-eyed boy and an ever-silent man. I had tried to crack Flynn—told him jokes, pried into his personal life. Nothing. Stoic as ever. Benji was the one who drew my attention though, tugging at my makeshift shorts.

  “Tarik asked us to get my mom and bring her back here. Can you come help? I need to get Callie too, and”—he lifted his shoulders—“maybe you can keep her from escaping. Since you’re a cat and all . . .”

  I grinned, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Sure, Benji, lead the way. Where’s Tarik? Are you sure he’s okay with this?”

  “Rebel Leader pulled him away. They wouldn’t tell me for what. But yeah, he’s fine with you coming!”

  “Oh, okay.” I glanced up at Flynn, who lifted a shoulder and jerked his head in confirmation. “Well he probably had an important meeting, then. We’ll help you, right Flynn?” The man’s hazel eyes were locked onto my face, but he didn’t reply. My brow furrowed. “That’s creepy. Seriously.”

  He shrugged. I frowned. One day I would crack this one. Tarik told me not to get my hopes up, but . . .

  Benji had already disappeared around the corner. I cast another glance at the sullen Fae trailing me, but continued downstairs and out the front door. Lately, we had to check for Alec constantly. As the days went on with no word of my whereabouts, his patrols had become more frantic. Benji’s home wasn’t far though, and the sky was quiet. For now, at least.

  Flynn ushered us inside the small apartment, sliding over to where Haven lay on the bed. He signaled to me, hold
ing out a clean dress for her, and I nodded. While I helped her dress, he disappeared out the door, motioning for Benji to stay put. Haven glanced up at one point, her deep brown eyes the match to her son’s.

  “Where are you taking me?” Her voice was soft, weak. She seemed so frail beneath my hands, so light. I understood why Tarik felt like she was his responsibility. I didn’t know her and I already wanted to protect her.

  “The Fae Safehouse.”

  She struggled against my grip, pushing me back. “But this is my home.”

  I paused and sat down on the edge of her bed. She relaxed, relieved that I seemed to be relenting. Instead, I said quietly, “Why don’t you want to go there?”

  “I—I don’t want to become someone else’s burden. I’m fine here. Tarik checks on me at times.”

  “You’re no one's burden, Haven,” I said gently. “And if it helps, Tarik sent us.”

  “Where is he?” She tried to look past me. “Why didn’t he come himself?”

  “He’s been really busy helping the other Fae. He didn’t want you to be alone.” The sound of dragon wings caught my ear. My heart bolted to life. We needed to get back. This wasn’t safe. My thoughts flicked to Tarik, to the crystal. “Tarik might have found a way to help you, really help you. But he hasn’t been able to slip away long enough to come down here. He’ll bring you back home if you want, after he tries.”

  Haven stilled. As the booming sound passed overhead, my breaths quickened. I bit my lip, hoping against hope that Haven would come with us. She nodded. When the wing beats faded, Flynn barged through the door with Callie in his arms.

  He motioned to the sky and I nodded. “Flynn’s going to help you, Haven. I’m Reagan, by the way.”

  I traded places with Flynn, gripping Callie to my chest and grabbing Benji’s hand.

  “Have you got her?” Benji asked.

  I nodded. “Stay with me outside, okay? Flynn will take good care of your mom.”

  “Okay!”

  The second we stepped out the door, the whoosh of wings returned. Close, too close. I darted into a shadow, pulling Benji with me. Callie shrunk against my chest, as though she too knew we had to hide from that dragon.