Of Love and Darkness (15 page)

“
Was
,” he corrected. “I was cursed two hundred years ago. And I have been fighting your fight ever since.
Our
fight. I am just as much a Light One as any of you, now. I am your Chala’s mate. I think that alone speaks volumes.”

No sound. No more rustling. Was that good or bad?

“Second, Jack and likely Nate died because the Rakshasa caught up to them. They are still chasing us, and it is very likely they have become aware of our whereabouts.” There was a great deal of rustling at that, and low murmurs. Lots of quiet cursing.

“This means they are probably on their way to us right now. To kill our Chala.” He pointed his finger at Sydney. She blushed under the unexpected attention, but he got the result he wanted: a whole lot of angry Light Ones. Nobody messed with their Chala.

“We can run again, and they’ll catch up with us again at some other point. Or we can stay and fight.” He paced before them, gathering his thoughts, weighing his words, trying to determine how best to persuade them to possibly lay down their lives to protect the Chala. His mate. No matter what William or Brandon said.

“I personally think we should fight. This is what you’ve been training for, and I believe you are there. We can do this. But we can only do it as a team. So everyone is in, or everyone is out, and we pack up and run again. What will it be?”

A near-deafening roar exploded from the pack of shifters, as they waved their fists in the air, stomped their feet, and shouted out their plans to carry on contests to see who could kill the most Rakshasa. Everyone had fierce looks on their faces. They wanted to fight. They would fight. And win.

He hoped.

Killian burst into the clearing, shouting at them, and the trash talking and cheering slowly died down to a low roar.

“Fates be damned!” the redheaded Fate yelled as he too pumped a fist in the air. “Not only are you going to lead those bloody Rakshasa right to us, you’re going to wake the dead, too! Don’t any of you understand the idea of quiet? Fates!”

After Killian left, training began. They divided into groups: those who still needed training on certain areas, those who were most integral for strategy planning, and those who were best at recon. It was time for war.

Chapter 13

Killian O’Connelly was a crotchety old Fate. Considering how long he’d been a Fate, and given the number of Chala he’d lost over the years, he figured it was no wonder. He was pretty sure he had the record for most Chala lost. Why the head Fate continued to assign him charges was beyond him.

And that damned Rakshasa who was even now whipping those Light Ones into a frenzy was the main reason for Killian’s terrible lack of success. That man had a track record better than any other shifter in history. And now he was living in Killian’s house. Living in Killian’s house, eating Killian’s food, and sleeping with possibly the last Chala in the world.

It was unnatural and a huge slap in the face to him and his kind. He didn’t understand how William tolerated it, but then again, William had always been a little
strange
. Any man who preferred dresses to pants and could belt out a Whitney Houston song like he could, well, that wasn’t natural, either.

It was easy, really, to make his excuses to leave. William knew his feelings on the subject of Gavin Rowan. Hell, everybody did, now. He’d hoped his little proclamation at dinner the night before would have stirred them to rebel against him, but no-o-o. Those damned Light Ones followed him blindly. Sometimes, Killian thought they deserved to be wiped out.

They were all so damned stupid when it came to love. To a last one, they were all born with the hope of meeting and mating with a Chala, despite the fact that even at the height of the population, there had probably only been a few hundred Chala in the entire world. Not very good odds.

Killian packed a small bag, so as not to pique anyone’s curiosity. He told William he was going down to New Orleans for a few days. Killian liked his privacy and the quiet—and a Rakshasa-free life. William had the gall to point out that he wasn’t going to find much quiet in New Orleans, but he didn’t question Killian and he didn’t stop him. William could feel the tension as well as anybody.

He drove to Little Rock and hopped on a plane, landing in New Orleans a few short hours later, where he exited and then boarded another plane, a much smaller one. Puddle jumpers, they were called. Well, all that blue outside his window was one hell of a puddle, but the humans were masters of understatement.

The puddle jumper landed on an island that was barely fifty miles in radius. From there, Killian was transported via golf cart to a marina, where he boarded a sturdy, sleek, white yacht and then sat on the deck, sipping piña coladas while the captain guided him toward his final destination.

His final destination was an island even smaller than the first. This one was barely five miles in diameter. There were only six occupants on this island at any given time.

It was paradise.

Killian stepped off the yacht wearing a floral print shirt, baggy khaki shorts, and leather flip-flops. He paused, took a deep, cleansing breath of the salty air, and then turned at the sound of bare feet slapping against the boards of the dock.

She’d come to meet him at the marina. She was a stunning woman, with chestnut hair the sun had streaked with red. She had wide, almond-shaped dark eyes, high, plump cheekbones, and big, lush, red lips. She wore a red sarong with a muted black design scrawled across the front. The hem of the dress whipped around her legs as she walked, barefoot, up the dock to meet him.

Killian opened his arms wide and waited for her to walk into his hug.

“Prim! How lovely to see you again!”

Chapter 14

“It sure is more relaxed without Killian here.”

William frowned at the shifter who made the comment.

Gavin grinned and leaned back in his chair far enough that the front two legs came off the ground. About a dozen of the pack was left, sitting around the dining room table, eating the last of their dinner and chatting amicably. Killian had been gone for two days. Two days without blustery complaints and grumbled comments.

Two days without a Rakshasa attack.

“Killian can be a bit . . .” William struggled to find the right word.

“Abrasive?” Sydney suggested. She sat at Gavin’s side, right where he wanted her. Well, he wanted her under him—or maybe sitting astride him—but that would come later. During waking hours, he wanted her within grabbing distance at all times. She’d made a rude comment earlier in the day about not even getting five minutes of peace to go to the bathroom, but he didn’t care.

The enemy was out there, and he’d be damned if he’d let them get to his woman.

“That’s as good a word as any,” Gavin agreed. “My suggestions were far less polite.”

William’s frown deepened. Gavin could feel the Fate’s unease, which ratcheted up his own sense of foreboding. Something was about to happen, he could feel it. Make that double, since for some unfathomable reason, he had developed a strange connection with Sydney’s Fate.

It was weird, really, that Gavin could summon him, and that Gavin could sense William’s emotions. When he’d broached the subject with the Fate, he’d come up against a solid brick wall.

“I have no idea why you have the ability to summon me,” William said coldly. “And I can tell you right now that you certainly do not share my emotions. If you did, you would not still be here. Release her, so she can see to her duty as a Chala.”

Gavin had ended that particular conversation by walking away. Why did the Fate think it was so damn easy? Surely he’d fallen in love somewhere along the line of his incredibly long life. Fates were human before they died and were bestowed the honor of eternal life. Hadn’t he loved in his human life? And if not then, surely there had been someone in the past thousand years. He fawned over Quentin enough to make Gavin suspicious.

And if nothing else, he loved Sydney. That much was abundantly clear. William doted on her as if she were his own child. Gavin had made a snide comment about the fact that if he actually did let her go, William would have to let her go too, and the pained look that had come across the Fate’s face made him almost wish he could take it back.

Love. What a fucked-up emotion.

It was never convenient, although, in truth, this was the first time Gavin had ever come close to feeling anything like this for another being, so he supposed he couldn’t really say that for certain. But still. It would have been so much more convenient if Sydney had come into contact with one of these other assholes first. Any one of them would . . .

. . . never work for her. Sydney was determined and independent and sweet and innocent and stubborn and not afraid to dish out whatever he served and so freaking amazing in bed . . .

Yeah, Gavin couldn’t give that up if his life depended on it. She was his, damn it. His to love and cherish and all that shit mates did together. So nature didn’t necessarily agree with them being together, so what? With him at their helm and Sydney by his side, they’d figure out a way to destroy the Rakshasa and preserve the Light Ones.

There was no other option.

The sound of car tires crunching on gravel caused him to drop the front legs of his chair to the ground with a thud. Gavin stood, snagged Sydney’s hand and dragged her along with him while he went to go see who the hell had found their location out in the middle of the mountains of central Arkansas. He wasn’t worried it was the Rakshasa. They certainly wouldn’t pull up to the front door and announce themselves.

“Killian’s back,” Sydney commented, as they watched the Fate climb out of his all-wheel-drive station wagon.

“Yeah. He brought someone with him. Does that strike you as strange?”

Gavin caught his first glimpse of sun-streaked chestnut hair and his breath lodged in his throat. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water as he struggled to remember how to breathe again.

Sydney tried to tug her hand from his grasp. “Gavin, stop. You’re hurting me. Stop squeezing so tightly.”

With a supreme act of will, he loosened his grip on Sydney’s hand. But he did not let her go. “Come on,” he said, tugging her through the front door and down the stairs. “This isn’t going to be pretty. Let’s meet them out by the car, where there’s some semblance of privacy.”

He caught a sound that indicated William was warming up the karaoke machine someone had unearthed while they were living at Hilde’s house. That meant William wasn’t aware of this person’s presence. It also meant the music would create a sort of shield, so most of the inhabitants of the house would not hear whatever conversation was about to transpire. Good.

Killian had gone out in search of Prim for a reason, of that, Gavin had no doubt whatsoever. His suspicions as to the nature of this visit made his heart beat uncomfortably fast and his palm start sweating where it touched Sydney’s skin.

He focused on Sydney. His anchor. His life. His reason for fighting this damned war.

Killian walked around to the passenger side of the car and offered his hand to the woman seated there. Prim stepped out of the car like a supermodel stepping onto the red carpet. Her glorious, thick, chestnut hair draped halfway down her back, and was topped with a large, floppy hat tied with a brightly colored ribbon. Her sex-and-candy body was covered by a red sarong dress that stopped four inches above her knees. Strappy red heels were on her feet. Fates weren’t really alive, so temperature fluctuations didn’t particularly bother them.

Gavin recalled the first time he’d ever met Prim, nearly three hundred years ago. He’d picked up the scent of her Chala and tracked them to a small encampment out West, in what was now California. She’d prepared to do battle to protect her Chala, but Gavin had used an entirely different tactic. Considering the Fate’s beauty, it hadn’t been a hardship.

And at the moment she succumbed, he pulled out, dashed out the door of the tent, found her Chala crouching behind a pile of rocks, and killed her before Prim had even struggled back into her dress.

No surprise the Fate held a
slight
grudge.

The last time he’d seen Prim, he had killed two of her charges, and had been biding his time, planning to kill the third. Except she’d bested him. Hatred burned through him as he recalled what it had felt like when that curse hit him. It was something he’d never forget, for all of eternity.

He’d obviously become a better man, with the curse. And without the curse, he never would have met and fallen in love with Sydney—or if he had met her, he would have killed her, instead of deciding to mate with her. He wouldn’t change that for anything, but still he felt the anger swelling, because Prim had taken the choice out of his hands.

And she’d given him this weight of guilt that never ceased, and that sometimes, he felt as if he might suffocate underneath it. For that, he was not sure he could ever forgive the Fate.

Gavin suddenly released his hold on Sydney’s hand and gave her a push toward the house. “Maybe it’s best if you stay inside after all.”

Sydney lifted her eyebrow in that way she had of imitating him without looking stupid doing it, and said, “Why the sudden change in tune? Who is that? An old flame?”

Gavin felt as if he were strangling on his own laughter. “Hardly. Trust me, our feelings for each other may be mutual, but they are definitely not complimentary. Go inside. Now.”

He had no idea why he thought she might actually listen to his command. The only time she ever listened to him was out on the practice field, and even then she was beginning to question his authority as she excelled at her fighting techniques far faster than any of the others. Just this afternoon, it occurred to Gavin that the Light Ones had been going about the whole Chala protection thing all wrong. They should have taught the women how to fight, not hide them behind a few Fates and some half-trained shifters. Probably, the population would be thriving right now, instead of in danger of disappearing altogether.

“Prim?”

Gavin glanced over his shoulder at the sound of William’s voice. The cross-dressing Fate hesitated in the doorway to Killian’s home.

“Shit.”

“Prim?” Sydney repeated the name as she gave Gavin a questioning look.

William stepped uncertainly off the porch and tottered on pink, high-heeled slippers toward the chestnut-haired woman.

“William,” Prim’s voice was practically a purr, as she opened her arms and waited for him to walk into her embrace. “As utterly eccentric as ever, I see. The passage of time has certainly made it easier for you to expand your wardrobe, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he said shortly. “Why are you here?” His gaze cut back to Sydney and Gavin and then returned to Prim.

Prim bestowed upon him her glorious, radiant smile and then lifted her gaze, locking it on to Gavin, who stood still as stone, momentarily rendered unable to move.

“Hey!” Sydney protested, and she grabbed Gavin’s arm and wrenched him out of the spell.

Prim blinked, a look of annoyance rushing across her face so quickly it could have been nothing more than a trick of the light, and then she focused her attention on Sydney.

“William’s Chala.” Her voice was breathy. She walked forward, gliding as effortlessly as if she were walking on air. “What a lovely young woman.” She came to a halt directly in front of Sydney, and stood there, studying the Chala’s features rather intently.

Gavin deliberately stepped between them and Prim lifted her gaze to focus on him once again. “Don’t do it,” he warned her. “This one has her own magic and she isn’t afraid to use it.” He stabbed his thumb over his shoulder, at Sydney.

“Why in the world would she use her magic against me?” Prim asked innocently.

“Because she’s my mate,” Gavin retorted. “And she has this crazy overprotective streak. Tends to flare up when people come after me.” His voice held a faint note of taunting that caused Prim to narrow her eyes.

“You aren’t a Light One,” Prim pointed out very deliberately. “And with one snap of my fingers, that curse is gone and you’re right back where you started.”

She snapped her fingers and everyone jumped.

William grabbed her hand and thrust it down to her side, casting a nervous glance in Gavin’s direction. Gavin looked as if he’d like nothing better than to rip Prim’s head from her shoulders. Unfortunately, the only result would be that Prim disappeared, to be regenerated as Fates whose bodies were destroyed did, and then she’d come back, madder than ever. Prim angry was something to behold; Prim furious and holding a grudge . . . well, Gavin already knew what
that
was like.

“Prim, darling, that really isn’t necessary. He’s standing much too closely to my Chala, don’t you think?” William’s laugh sounded forced. And nervous.

Sydney stepped in front of Gavin and glared at Prim. “Don’t you dare take that curse off him. He’s my mate, and unless you want the Light Ones to die out, we need him just the way he is.”

“Uh, Sydney, that’s not really a good point to bring up right now,” William pointed out, watching Prim warily.

Prim widened her eyes in feigned surprise. “What in the world does this Rakshasa have to do with repopulating the Light Ones?”

“It’s time to take her inside, William,” Gavin warned.

William grabbed Sydney’s arm and tried to drag her back toward the house.

Prim grabbed Sydney’s other wrist.

“Oh no, William, don’t do that. I’m not done conversing with your Chala.”

“Get her inside. Now.” Gavin’s tone was steel.

William gave another tug on her arm.

“Gavin, what is this about?” Sydney asked, her tone belying her worry.

“We’ll talk about it later. Right now, I need you to go inside. Prim and I need to have a private conversation. This is important, Sydney. I need you to—”

“He’s right, Sydney,” Prim said solemnly. “It’s extremely important. It involves your future. Your pack’s future. Your entire species’ future.”

“Goddamn it, Prim—”

“What is it?” Sydney asked, jerking her arm from William’s grasp.

Gavin gave William a furious look. “You know, for such a big guy, you sure are a wimp.”

“Anything that involves this pack’s future involves me, too,” Sydney said with a firmness that Gavin knew well. His insides clenched with dread.

“It certainly does,” Prim agreed. “Since you are the only one who can ensure your pack has a future.”

Sydney blushed and darted a furtive look at Gavin. He couldn’t fathom why the hell she was blushing.

“I know, I know. It’s just that with this imminent attack and all, I didn’t want to try to get pregnant right away, in case I need to fight. And frankly, I never really gave motherhood a great deal of thought to begin with, so I was hoping to have a little time to grow into the idea. Plus, Gavin and I haven’t really known each other very long. We still have a few issues we need to work out . . .”

“We don’t have any issues,” Gavin said indignantly. “What makes you think we have issues?”

Sydney rolled her eyes. “Really? Do you want to get into this now? Any time I try to talk about this, we end up arguing, and then we end up making up and, well, it just seems like we should have this conversation in private.” She blushed again.

“Excellent idea.” Gavin grabbed at her arm. “Let’s go inside and talk. Right now.” He tried to turn, but Prim stopped him with one sentence.

“You certainly
do
have issues.”

Sydney turned around, her hackles raised like a dog defending her territory. Appropriate feeling, considering she was surrounded by a pack of shifters.