Defending Destiny (The Warrior Chronicles) (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

Daisy Bennett was a list maker.

For Daisy, lists were more than something helpful to take to the grocery store or a streaming of items to do for the day. Her lists were her way of creating her own glorious
reality. If they didn’t quite achieve than lofty feat, she mused, they did keep her from feeling powerless in the face of the seemingly insurmountable objects thrown at her in this cosmic game of life.

She knew she was grandiose in her thinking as well as in her list making, but that didn’t bother her. She’d chosen a life of adventure, and adventurers were prone to flamboyant displays, if only on paper.

Sometimes Daisy wrote “what I want” lists. Sometimes, “what I intend to do” lists. Sometimes, “what I love…what I hate…what I want to eat” lists. They all made her feel better. And, almost universally, they had one thing in common:
Magnus.

Her Magnus…Gus…Gussie…

Daisy smiled what she’d been told was her evil elven smile. Magnus hated her childhood name for him. He was so tall, so strong, and, even as a teenager, so
manly
, that her nickname was laughable. She’d teased him mercilessly with it when she was thirteen. To his credit, all he did in response was tickle her until she wanted to throw up. Well, he wasn’t here to tickle her now, so she could use the hated name without worry of repercussion—not that she’d ever let Magnus get close enough to tickle her again. She’d learned that particular lesson well and true. Feeling like letting her internal thirteen-year-old out to play, Daisy wrote the hated name three more times.

Gussie…Gussie…Gussie…

Still not satisfied, she sketched an evil-looking giant in the margin, à la Jack and the Beanstalk. When she caught herself giving him long, curling hair and long-lashed, soul-searching eyes, she gave the giant horns. No sense making an evil giant more appealing than he was.

Daisy had one rule for her lists: be honest. If she wanted to be instrumental in creating her own destiny, she needed to start from a place of honest reflection. Right now, it pleased her to honestly add horns to her image of Magnus. He’d earned them.

Someone at the other end of the private pool she shared with her camera man, Gerry Butler, jumped into the deep end, rocking the inflatable lounge chair she was reclining in, causing her to float closer to the edge of the pool. Daisy let herself get distracted from her list, since she didn’t much care for number nine anyway.

Gazing past her flamboyantly painted purple-peacock pedicure, an indulgence she loved, to the other end of the pool, she spotted Gerry lounging against the edge, each arm around a topless swimsuit model he’d just finished taking stills of for some glossy men’s magazine.

Daisy’s eyes narrowed. Objectively, Gerry Butler was the most blatantly handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on, and she’d seen plenty of good-looking men. Gerry was simply the most structurally perfect, and he knew it. Women nineteen to ninety panted after him. He didn’t put too much stock in his looks beyond the fact that they got him laid with ease and frequency. The fact that he wasn’t vain, along with his quick wit, hardworking dedication to his art, and his ready smile made him likeable.

That didn’t mean Daisy wanted to sleep with him. She didn’t. However, she
did
want to have sex again, with another person, she silently added, before she turned thirty. Daisy made a mental note to start another list as soon as she got out of the pool:
Top ten reasons to end my 18-month experiment with celibacy.

Gerry caught her staring his way and pried off the tentacles belonging to the surgically enhanced swimsuit models. Gerry extricated himself and quickly swam underwater to her side. He surfaced next to her floating chair, splashing her notebook and making the ink on her current list bleed.

“Hey,” she said, trying to dry the paper and salvage both her list and her drawing of Magnus. She liked seeing him with horns and she wanted to finish him off, maybe with a scowl and an eye patch. She closed her notebook before her work got completely soaked. “Stop dripping on me.”

Gerry, completely unrepentant, shook his head at her like a wet dog, soaking her more. “Wanna go somewhere more private?”

Daisy pulled the short towel she had from around her neck, wiped off the plastic cover of her notebook, wrapped it in the towel, and tossed the whole thing onto the concrete pool deck right next to a chaise lounge. When she looked back at Gerry his grin was gone, replaced with a somewhat less naughty smile. He was fun to be around, so she smiled back. Daisy was willing to bet his smile, which oozed sensuality, was well practiced and usually got him exactly what he wanted—a satisfying but ultimately meaningless roll in the hay.

He was standing now, the water hitting him just above the navel. She wasn’t going to sleep with him, but that didn’t stop her from looking
and
thoroughly enjoying his raw male beauty. Daisy let out a small sound of appreciation and then winked at him. She enjoying playing with him, secure in the knowledge that they both knew it would never lead anywhere carnal. Not now. Not ever. Daisy liked Gerry too much to screw it up by screwing around. Especially when nothing about him was serious except for his work.

Daisy shifted her gaze from Gerry’s sculpted torso, one Chris Hemsworth, whom she thought was perfectly cast as Thor the God of Thunder, would be envious of, to the two disgruntled swimsuit models across the pool before she looked back to Gerry. When she did, something in his face changed. It was only there a tenth of a second or so, and then it was gone, replaced again by the ready devil-may-care smile he wore like armor.

“So, are we going to go somewhere more private?” he asked again.

“No thanks, Gerry. A party of four is two too many for me, and two too few for you.”

His eyes narrowed as his expression turned, and that was all she registered before she found herself upside down in the water. Pushing up from the bottom, Daisy broke the surface, sputtering. Gerry pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist. She slid easily against him, slick with water and the remnants of sunscreen from the day’s shoot.

“It’s just you in my arms now, darlin’. Wanna ride the waves with me awhile?”

Daisy laughed, then groaned as his arms tightened around her. She brought her hands up to his chest to push away from him, the words
no thanks
on her lips, when her feet went out from under her and she slid. Gerry pulled her tighter, holding her upright, which she was grateful for. She’d swallowed enough water the first time he dumped her. Daisy laughed again, pushing away from him.

That’s when she heard a deep, decidedly masculine throat clearing. She looked toward the source of the noise when a pair of black, oil-tanned engineer boots blocked out everything else. She knew those boots.

Daisy stopped trying to get away from Gerry. Choosing to fight one battle at a time, she relaxed in his arms and closed her eyes before turning to the more dangerous of her two opponents. She told herself to breathe slowly while she focused on calming her rapidly beating heart.

That’s what you get for trying to shape your destiny by making that list. Draw the devil and he appears. Way to go, idiot. Now open your eyes, take a deep breath and face the man you conjured.

Daisy opened her eyes and turned to face him. Starting at his boots, she took in his frayed jeans, clinging tightly to what she knew were well-defined thighs, past his narrow waist to his black Dropkick Murphys concert t-shirt that fit way too well. She continued from his shoulder-length ink-black curls to his tightly set jaw ticking with irritation, past his sterling-silver gray eyes more stormy now than clear to the top of his head.

Daisy stopped there and giggled. Her eyes widened as his narrowed. She slapped a hand over her mouth and couldn’t
stop herself from giggling again. She wasn’t prone to fits of childish laughter as a general rule, but all the rules flew out the window when Magnus walked into her life. The unrestrained emotion bubbled inside her and she couldn’t stop her shoulders from shaking with her mirth.

No horns. The devil forgot his horns.

Magnus lost all of his narrow-eyed emotion, crossed his arms over his chest, and said with the patience of a tired parent dealing with a misbehaving toddler, “Get out of the pool, Daisy. Now.”

His exaggerated patience bothered her, as did his flat tone. He-who-must-be-obeyed had spoken, and it was up to her to snap off a salute and an emphatic
Yes, sir.
Not going to happen, big guy.

Massive hands shot under her arms, yanking her unceremoniously out of the water and depositing her on the pool deck a foot or so in front of Magnus. The moment her feet found the concrete, he let her go. Daisy was struck once again by how formidable Magnus was in person. He was tall and he was large, and he moved with the efficient grace of swimmer or a ballet dancer. There was no wasted movement, no trudging about like giants were supposed to do. Never one to be intimidated by size and summoning a bravado she didn’t feel at the moment, Daisy moved a step closer to him. Magnus raised a brow. A nod to her courage? Perhaps. Or maybe he was just letting her know he was toying with her before he decided to pounce. Did nothing rattle the man? His demeanor suggested not.

“Why are you here, Magnus?”

“To get you.” No tone, just fact.
Urrgh.

Magnus’ gaze ran slowly over her bikini-clad body with what she could only interpret as contempt. Her suit seemed so staid and downright conservative compared to what the women at the other end of the pool, who now only had eyes for Magnus, were wearing. Under the heat of Magnus’ stare she felt naked. Exposed. Vulnerable.

Daisy’s chin shot up and she pushed her shoulders back, exposing more of her less-than-impressive chest, and she cocked a hip at him, wrapping her fingers around her hipbone. How dare he look at her like a preacher eyeing a pole dancer. She didn’t deserve his disdain. Her suit was small, but tasteful. And if memory served, and it did, Magnus was no preacher wandering into a den of iniquity.

Daisy opened her mouth to give him hell. “How—”

Magnus cut her off by throwing a towel in her face. “Cover yourself.”

She wiped her face with the towel and emptied her heart of its heat. Daisy learned long ago the best way to deal with Magnus was to show no emotion. He’d surprised her, and the remnants of affection she once bore for him had flooded through her before she could get them in check. That was all, she told herself.
Really.

By the time she’d wrapped the oversized towel around her waist, she’d replaced the lava in her veins with Arctic ice. Daisy smiled up at Magnus the way she smiled for the camera: neutral, placid, and completely devoid of deep emotion. “Nice to see you, Magnus. Thanks for the visit. How’s the family?”

Magnus jerked back, almost imperceptibly, but it was enough to tell Daisy she’d chosen the right tack if she didn’t want him to think he could push her around like the child she’d once been. “Don’t push me, Daisy,” he said, not quite certain of his place in her universe this time, but hardly cowed.

“I wouldn’t think of it. I wouldn’t dream of laying a hand on you, Magnus. Not for any reason.”

Liar.

Not in this moment. In this moment, I mean every word.

Gerry emerged from the pool in one powerful motion to stand at her side. She hadn’t realized until that moment that somewhere along the way one or both of the Bimbo Twins had relieved him of his suit.
Oh boy, here comes the can of whoop-ass.

“Is there a problem, Daisy?” Gerry asked, not realizing or not caring that he’d put himself fully in harm’s way.

Daisy didn’t spare Gerry a glance. She kept her gaze lasered on Magnus, warning him without words to back off. She couldn’t tell from his expression whether he was inclined to heed her warning. “No problem, Gerry. Just an old…
friend of the family…
paying a visit. No big deal. Give me a minute and he’ll be gone.”

Magnus stared at her, his hands fisting at his sides, and for the space of a heartbeat Daisy didn’t know what he was going to do. Then he turned and made his way toward her suite. He didn’t bother to look over his shoulder when he said, “You’ve got thirty seconds.” He bent, grabbed something, then continued his long, unhurried stride to her room. “Don’t make me come back out here to get you.”

When he opened the sliding glass door connecting her suite to the private pool area, Daisy exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Gerry relaxed beside her. “Who was that?”

“The man I left at the altar ten years ago.”

Gerry whistled, shaking his head. “No wonder he’s pissed.”

Sighing heavily, Daisy bent to retrieve her flip-flops. “You have no idea.”

CHAPTER THREE

Daisy didn’t heed his thirty-second warning, but Magnus didn’t expect her to. She never took commands well. He should have known better than to issue one, but his head had been filled with images of her arms around naked
Gerry
while his body was remembering her arms wrapped around naked Gus. Little Gus and big Gus. “Bloody everlasting hell,” Magnus said, throwing the small towel he picked up from the poolside on a whim onto the rattan couch on the covered patio of Daisy’s suite.